#Go light some things on fire again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

witchywithwhiskey · 1 month ago

Text

this time of year

pairing: friend!steve rogers x female reader

summary: you've kept your feelings for your friend, steve rogers, quiet for years—but when you're at the holiday market with your whole group of friends, some things come to light, and you don't think you can keep pretending you don't desperately want him anymore.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), fluff, light angst, smut, oral sex (m and f receiving), piv sex, protection, fingering (f receiving), nipple play, multiple orgasms, kissing, making out, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (sunshine), aftercare, happily ever after—this is probably the most vanilla sex i've written in a while but it's still porn with feelings.

word count: 11.9k

a/n: my first entry for @the-slumberparty's december daze challenge, and it's technically still december 1 where i live (just barely)!!! i used the prompt "Can I put my cold hands up your sweater for warmth?" and had an idea i really liked and just ran with it! i promise most of my december fics won't be 10k+ words—mainly because i don't think i'd survive it 😅 but i hope y'all enjoy this soft and sweet and smutty start to december!! ♡

december daze challenge masterlist

Teasing tingles of chill danced across your skin as the crisp December wind brushed against your cheeks, making you huddle deeper into the warmth of your winter coat. You pushed your hands deeper into your pockets, but it didn’t do much. You’d forgotten your mittens, and your fingers felt nearly frozen.

It didn’t help that you and your friends had been meandering through one of the city’s holiday market for more than a few hours, the cold of the evening sinking deep into your bones. Unfortunately, there were only so many cups of hot chocolate one person could consume before they made themselves sick, and you’d reached that limit.

Still, you were having fun—too much fun to complain about the cold or to try to beg off early. That was why you smiled as you watched your best friend, Yelena Belova, duck into one of the market stalls, her green eyes going wide as they raked over the vendor’s display of knives.

You trailed a little slowly behind the rest of your friends—Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers—beneath the pop-up tent, distracted by the chill in your fingers as you rubbed them against your body through the material of your coat, trying to get them warm.

The wintry wind cut through the market again and, despite the trembling of your body, you smiled as you breathed in the scent of it. Beneath the pine smell from the evergreen trees being sold at the big tent near the entrance and the swirling richness of buttery baked goods, there was a fresh scent that made you turn your face upward.

Gray clouds were rolling in overhead, blotting out the deep navy of the evening sky, and you knew, deep in your bones, that it was going to snow. A smile curled the edges of your lips and you let your eyes fall closed as you breathed in that fresh scent of oncoming snow.

You loved this time of year because you loved the snow.

Everything about it conjured up memories of sitting by a crackling fire, wrapped in a cozy blanket, watching the beautiful flakes fall from the sky and dust everything in a perfect wintry cloak. You could spend hours sitting by a window, watching the snow come down, and you were suddenly looking forward to doing just that once you got home that evening.

When you finally opened your eyes and turned away from the sky, you found Steve lingering in the entrance of the tent where your friends were browsing, an intensity in his gaze as he looked at you. He didn’t look away when you caught him staring, simply held your gaze, letting you see the heat swirling in the depths of his bright blue eyes.

That heat had begun appearing in Steve’s eyes more and more when he looked at you, and you knew it had started after a certain night at the bar your friends frequented a few weeks prior. But you’d been determinedly ignoring that look in Steve’s eyes ever since that night—just like you’d been ignoring what exactly had happened between the two of you.

As fast as the memory of that night sprang to mind, you shoved it aside, reminding yourself that there was no use in dredging it up. What you and Steve had done that night had the potential to ruin all of your relationships, and no matter how much you might’ve wanted reenact the night at the bar, your friend group was too important to you to risk it.

Even after years of knowing them, you still felt like your addition to the group was precarious because you’d joined so much later. Steve, Bucky, Nat and Yelena had all known each other since they were teenagers, and you’d only met them in your early twenties. You’d sat near Yelena at your first job after college, and it had been best friends at first sight—or, at first snarky comment, anyway.

She’d adopted you as her best friend and introduced you to the others since you were new to the city and didn’t know anyone. You’d liked Steve from the moment you met him, but you’d kept a tight lid on your crush since you were more concerned about fitting into the group as seamlessly as possible, and you figured following your feelings would unnecessarily rock the boat.

Still, despite your intention of taking your crush on Steve to your grave, you couldn’t ignore the way he’d grown into himself as you all had gotten older.

Gone was the boy-next-door blond hair and clean-shaven face of the man you’d first met. Steve’s hair had darkened and he’d recently let it grow long enough that it was beginning to curl at the nape of his neck. He’d also grown out his beard, keeping it thick but neatly trimmed.

Steve had also, somewhere along the way, learned how to dress his tall form—and do it well.

That night at the holiday market, he’d worn light gray slacks, a dark charcoal sweater that you desperately wanted to rub your cheek against to see if it was as soft as it looked, and a black wool overcoat. It was an outfit that had you nearly drooling when you’d met up with your friends, unable to tear your eyes away from how Steve’s broad shoulders and trim waist filled out the clothes.

Despite the chill of the evening, Steve hadn’t seemed the least bit cold, and you’d caught yourself thinking more than once how warm it would feel to be wrapped up in his strong arms. Your fingers would never have gotten so miserably frozen if you’d snuck them beneath Steve’s coat or in his pockets…

With a start, you realized you’d been staring back at Steve for a long, lingering moment, and heat bloomed in your cheeks. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea—though, at that moment, you were struggling to figure out what exactly the wrong idea was—so you ducked your head and pretended like you were bundling deeper into your coat as you made to move past him into the tent.

“Are you alright, sunshine?” Steve asked as you passed him, his hand landing gently on your arm. Even through your coat, you could feel the warmth of his touch; it made you pause and glance up at him.

You realized your mistake immediately. You were too close to Steve—far too close. So close you could smell the rich, masculine scent of his cologne and feel the heat radiating off his body. It made you want to bury your face in his neck and inhale deeply, to wrap yourself up in his warmth until your bones didn’t even remember what the cold felt like.

“I-I’m ok,” you said in a shaky voice, more rattled by Steve’s closeness than the December wind cutting through the city, and you dropped your gaze to the gold pendant around his neck.

It glinted in the soft light of the market stall, and you remembered it had been a gift from his Irish Catholic mother. You used the memory of Steve telling you about the pendant to ground yourself and your voice came out stronger.

“Just cold.”

“D’you want some more hot chocolate?” Steve asked, and there was a hopeful note in his tone, like he was offering to get it for you, but you were quick to shake your head.

“Any more and I think my body will be more hot chocolate than water,” you joked, trying to ignore the emotions swirling in your chest like snowflakes on a wintry gale.

When Steve chuckled, you couldn’t help but look back up at him, finding his blue eyes sparkling as he gazed down at you, affection clear in the lines of his face.

Slowly, his smile eased into something else—something heavier, an expression that was almost yearning. It made the fluttering flakes in your chest swirl more frenziedly while a warmth bloomed somewhere lower, throbbing more to life the longer Steve looked at you with those darkened blue eyes. His expression spoke of things you’d never dare give voice to.

For another long moment, you and Steve just stared at each other, standing too close just inside the canopy of the vendor at the holiday market. A tension you refused to acknowledge crackled in the air around you.

Of their own volition, your eyes dropped to Steve’s mouth, his lower lip looking so soft and pink amid the dark brown of his beard. For what felt like the millionth time in the last few weeks, ever since that night at the bar, you imagined kissing him—how soft his mouth would be, how warm and inviting, and the feel of his rough beard rasping over your cheeks.

“Hey Steve, c’mere!”

Natasha’s call finally broke the spell that had fallen over you and Steve, and you jumped back, only in that moment realizing how close you’d been. Close enough that when you ducked your head and turned away from him, making your way over to Yelena and Bucky, that you missed Steve’s warmth almost immediately.

You let out a shaky breath, trying to ease the tension and whirling emotions in your chest, and slid between your friends, who were still looking at the knives on sale. Looping one arm through Yelena’s, you rested your head against Bucky’s shoulder, taking comfort in your friends’ warmth, even if it wasn’t as soothing as Steve’s had been.

“Both of you already have too many knives,” you said by way of a greeting. Your comment made both of them snort derisively, which made you smirk since it had been your intention to get a reaction out of them.

“There’s no such thing,” Yelena scoffed, tearing her eyes away from a double-edged dagger with an engraved handle to glance sideways at you. Her gaze met yours and then slid over your shoulder.

You followed it to where Natasha and Steve’s heads were ducked together. They were standing near a display of jewelry and you figured Nat was helping Steve pick out a Christmas present for someone, though you couldn’t think of who. You frowned.

“When are you going to put him out of his misery?”

Bucky’s gruff question drew you out of your thoughts of trying to remember someone in Steve’s life who he might be buying jewelry for, and you looked at your friend. Without even seeing your reflection, you knew confusion was written plainly across your face.

“What?” you asked, a little sharper than you’d intended, but you didn’t appreciate the implication that you were making Steve miserable.

Bucky cut his eyes to you, then slid them to Yelena, giving your best friend a pointed look. You spun your head around to your other side in time to watch Yelena’s mouth flatten into a reproachful frown.

Suddenly, you got the distinct impression that your friends were having an argument about you, though you couldn’t even begin to wonder what it could be about, except that it had something to do with Steve.

It took a moment of silent arguing before Yelena and Bucky seemed to come to an agreement. Yelena looked at you, a gentle expression on her face that made your stomach drop with anxiety—which only worsened when she put her free hand on your arm that was still looped through hers.

However, before she could voice whatever bad news she clearly had to tell you, Bucky cut in.

“You know no one would be upset if you and Steve dated, right?” he asked bluntly, his eyes intense and searching when you turned to look at him. “We all know you like each other.”

If you’d been drinking hot chocolate at that moment, you would’ve spit it out all over Bucky and the display of pretty decorative knives.

Thankfully, you weren’t. But you still managed to sputter and open your mouth repeatedly while you searched for the words to address the preposterousness of Bucky’s statement.

“I do not—”

Whatever weak protest you were going to utter was cut short when Yelena blurted, “We know you kissed.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, the snowflakes that had been fluttering in your chest when you’d been standing with Steve sharpened into icy daggers of unease. You whirled on your best friend. “Pardon?”

“I saw you guys at the bar that night—I went back to get my scarf…” Yelena explained quickly, having the good grace to look apologetic, both for what she’d seen and for bringing it up. “I know you’ve liked Steve for ages, even if you haven’t said anything,” she rushed on, as if she thought if she spoke fast enough, it would make it easier to hear. “I was so excited it was finally happening that I blurted it out to Nat and she told Bucky—we were just so happy for you both.”

You floundered again, your mouth opening and closing as you processed your best friend’s words. It was almost too much to take in. Not only did everyone know what had happened between you and Steve that night at the bar, but it hadn’t changed anything. You’d told yourself for years that nothing could happen between you and Steve because it would throw off the whole balance of the group, but something had happened and it hadn’t done anything.

“I—”

Again, you were cut off, though it was seemingly Bucky’s turn, and your head swiveled back to him on your other side, feeling a bit like a broken bobblehead.

“He’s liked you too, for what it’s worth,” Bucky said. Your face must’ve conveyed disbelief because he went on. “He’s been talking about you since Yelena first introduced you to everyone, but he didn’t know how you felt,” he said, cutting his eyes to Yelena with the barest hint of a glare, “and didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Hearing that Steve liked you was officially too much for you to bear. The dawning realization that you could’ve been with Steve without risking your friendships with Yelena, Bucky and Nat was like a yawning, desolate chasm waiting to swallow you whole. You’d lost so much time because you were so afraid of losing them all, and it hurt—it hurt enough that it took you a moment to realize Yelena was talking again.

“We thought someone had finally made a move, but then you guys were pretending like nothing happened,” she was saying, and you turned back to her, your mind so overwhelmed that you no longer felt cold, only numb. “None of us wanted to bring it up because, y’know, I wasn’t supposed to have seen it.” She shot you an apologetic grimace before plowing on, her expression turning gentle again. “You know we’d never stop being your friends, even if something happened with you and Steve, right?”

Your heart was racing, the fear of change quickly eclipsing the fear of losing any more time with Steve. You’d been friends with Yelena, Bucky, Nat and Steve for so long that you couldn’t even imagine what it would be like if the two of you started dating—let alone what might happen if you broke up. Shaking your head, you refused to acknowledge Yelena’s assurance. Even if they’d still be friends with you, nothing would be the same.

“Nothing happened,” you said vehemently, even as you choked on the words, the lie tasting like ash on your tongue. But you couldn’t seem to stop. “We were drunk, it meant nothing.”

But then Bucky—blunt, too-perceptive Bucky—broke into your thoughts and pulled you up short with another simple question.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, his tone not unkind.

You opened your mouth to snap a quick answer, but the ‘yes’ died in your throat. Because of course something had happened, and of course it meant everything.

For the first time in weeks, you gave yourself permission to remember that night.

You’d tried to forget it—forget the softness of Steve’s lips on yours, forget the heat of his tongue as it slipped into your mouth, forget the pleasant scrape of his beard against your skin and the gentle way he’d held your face as he deepened the kiss.

Your first kiss with Steve Rogers had been glorious and messy and too short and too perfect—and it had meant everything to you.

But then you remembered what had happened after, the way you’d pulled away, even though you’d been the one to initiate the kiss in the first place, and panicked as soon as your mind had caught up with what you’d done.

The rest of the memory was a blur, the anxiety of the moment softening the edges, but you distinctly remembered extricating yourself from Steve—which had felt a little like cutting off a limb—before telling him it was a mistake and it couldn’t happen again.

Back at the market, you buried your face in your hands, and almost sobbed at the memory. “I’ve already ruined things,” you mumbled miserably into your frozen fingers, squeezing your eyes shut to keep the tears at bay.

Bucky made a humming noise, as if he was considering your words. “Whatever happened between you two, it hasn’t changed Steve’s feelings for you,” he said, squeezing your wrist gently until you looked at him. He stared at you for a long moment, making sure you heard him. “So my question stands: When are you going to put him—and yourself—out of this misery?”

Your friends let you sit with that question for a silent moment, then Yelena selected one of the knives, claiming it was an early Christmas present for herself and made her way over to the checkout.

Steve was also apparently buying something, accepting a small wrapped package from the cashier that he slipped into his pocket. You were too overwhelmed by your thoughts to be curious about it anymore though.

You stood with Bucky near the entrance to the tent, waiting for your friends to finish their transactions while your mind swirled. You were grateful to your friend for leaving you alone with your thoughts, though you knew it was only because Bucky was confident he’d made his point.

And he had. Oh how he had.

Your mind and heart were a mess. You’d spent so many years telling yourself that you could never let anyone catch on about your feelings for Steve, because if they did, it would lead to the end of the friend group. But they’d all known for weeks, and nothing had changed.

Well, nothing except apparently Bucky and Yelena had taken it upon themselves to play matchmaker. And you wouldn’t have been surprised if Natasha had been in on the ploy as well, distracting Steve purposefully so Yelena and Bucky could ambush you.

Still, you couldn’t fully silence the tiny voice of fear deep in your heart that insisted that if you and Steve got together, and things ended badly, you’d lose all your friends.

The rest of the group had known each other for so long and it had been more than a little daunting to figure out where you fit. Adding a romantic relationship into the mix seemed like a recipe for disaster—and if it ended so badly that everyone was forced to choose sides, you couldn’t imagine them choosing yours when they’d known Steve so much longer.

But as you watched Yelena finish paying for the knife, her words about always being your friend came back to you. She was your best friend—and you were hers. As if proving the point, she caught your eye and smiled impishly as she caught up with you, linking her arm through yours and tugging you back out into the market.

In that moment, something settled in you. Without fully realizing it, you’d always been a little insecure in your group of friends, always worried they would kick you out at the smallest infraction. But Yelena had said it plainly—they’d always be your friends, and you owed it to them to believe her, to trust her, because that was what friendship was.

That was what you had to do to have any kind of meaningful relationship.

As your group of friends wandered further down the row of stalls at the holiday market, you couldn’t help the way your eyes kept straying to Steve. Each time, you found him either looking at you already, or glancing your way within seconds, like he could feel your gaze.

When you looked at him, really looked at him, you noticed a little bit of hurt in his eyes. There was only a hint of it, like he was trying to hide it from you and everyone elese, but you could see it.

You wondered, briefly, how you’d missed it, but a part of you knew you’d been seeing it since that night at the bar. You’d just been ignoring it along with everything else swirling in his gaze.

“When are you going to put him out of his misery?”

You’d known you were making yourself miserable—of course you had. But the realization that you were making Steve miserable, even as he made a valiant effort to hide it, was what finally made your decision for you about what to do with everything Bucky and Yelena had told you.

No matter how scared you were that things might end badly, and you’d end up getting your heart broken and lose all your friends, you had to trust them when they said they’d always be there for you. You had to trust that Steve knew what he wanted—and that what he wanted was you.

The group came to another stop when Bucky spotted a specialty chocolate vendor and he ducked inside. Nat and Yelena followed him in—the latter giving you a meaningful look as you trailed behind before cutting her eyes to Steve. The message was clear and you nodded, giving her a playful shove that made your best friend cackle as she followed Bucky and Nat.

You stepped toward Steve where he hovered just outside the tent, and he shot you a knowing smile when he caught your eye.

“Still feeling like you’ve had enough chocolate?” he asked in a friendly tone, referencing your earlier joke. His beard twitched like he was trying to hold back a smile and it warmed your heart that he not only remembered the joke, but still found it funny.

The side of your mouth curved up in a lopsided grin, and you inched a tiny bit closer, just barely stepping into Steve’s personal space as you looked up at him.

“Yeah, I’ve had my fill,” you said, keeping your tone light. You took on a considering expression, tipping your head to the side and tapping a finger to your chin as if you were thinking. “For tonight, at least.”

Both of you laughed, but the December wind cut through the holiday market just then, and it reminded you of how cold your fingers were, especially out in the open. You quickly shoved your hand deep into the pocket of your coat, and Steve didn’t miss the movement, drifting even closer to you.

“Do you have any gloves, sunshine?” he asked in a low, rumbly voice that had warm tingles of delight dancing down your spine, all the way to your toes.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. Steve had moved close enough that you had to tip your head back to keep looking up at him, and you could feel the heat radiating off his larger body.

His blue eyes were sparkling in the warm, golden light of the market, and you could see the swirl of emotion in their depths that was only there when he looked at you. But there was a crease of concern between his brows, too, and you knew he was seconds away from offering to find you some gloves—or something else that would be chivalrous and perfectly friendly.

You realized, very suddenly, that if anything was going to happen between you and Steve, anything like what had happened at the bar, you needed to make the first move. Bucky had said Steve had been worried about making you uncomfortable before that night, and you were certain it had only worsened after the kiss you’d shared.

So, before he could say anything, you blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“Can I put my cold hands up your sweater for warmth?”

Steve’s brows lifted in surprise, and you had to bite your lip to keep yourself from trying to take the words back as soon as they’d slipped out of your mouth. And you were glad you did, because as the moment stretched on, and Steve realized you were serious, his brows lowered and his blue eyes darkened with interest.

“Ya sure about that, sunshine?” he asked, his voice low enough that you knew it was meant for only you. He ducked his head slightly, so he was nearly at your eye level, and held your gaze. “I wouldn’t want you doing anything you might regret.”

The words stung a little, but you knew you deserved them, especially after you’d told Steve that kissing him had been a mistake. So you held his gaze and stepped even closer to him, until there was barely any space left between your bodies.

“I’m sure,” you said firmly, letting Steve see the honesty in your open expression. “I know what I’m doing and I—this is what I want.” You were proud of yourself for only stumbling once, and held your breath as you waited for Steve’s response.

The corners of Steve’s mouth flickered in an eager grin, but he wiped the expression away, like he was worried that if he appeared too excited, he’d scare you away. You felt a pang of regret, and it doubled your determination to show Steve that you weren’t going to panic and run away again.

Pulling your hands from your pockets, you brushed your fingertips against Steve’s stomach in a silent reminder of your question.

“Can I?” you asked, your voice breathless with anticipation.

“Yeah,” he rasped, his eyes molten with heat as he stared down at you. “Go ‘head, sunshine.”

You were cold enough that you didn’t waste any more time, slipping your fingers beneath the hem of Steve’s soft sweater and pressing your frigid fingertips to the warm, smooth skin you found.

“Fuck, your fingers are freezing,” Steve rumbled, the muscles of his abs contracting beneath your touch like they were trying flee. But before you could apologize and pull away, Steve’s hands flattened over yours outside his sweater, pressing your palms against the hard-packed plane of his abs. “Good thing ya got me to keep you warm, sunshine,” he teased, his voice so full of charm that you melted into him.

“Yeah, good thing,” you echoed in a whisper, the edges of your mouth curling up into a pleased smile. You shimmied closer to Steve, watching the way his blue eyes sparkled with affection as he held your gaze captive.

He wrapped you up against him, holding you in the loose cage of his warms while your fingertips stroked idly against his smooth skin. You wanted to let them wander further beneath his sweater and explore the wonders of Steve’s bare chest, but you managed to keep the urge in check since you were in public—though it was a near thing.

“You know what I like to do most in the winter?” you asked Steve, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen over the two of you. The sounds of the market all around you were a distant soundtrack.

“What?” he asked indulgently, squeezing you slightly in his arms.

“Curl up in bed and snuggle on a snowy day,” you said with a sly smile. And then, as if a thought had just occurred to you, you tilted your head to the side. “Hey, is your bed comfy? Do you have a lot of nice warm blankets and good pillows?”

A grin pulled across Steve’s face even though he was fighting it, trying to look like he was taking your questions under serious consideration.

“Y’know, I think it’s very comfy,” he said, giving you a knowing look. He’d obviously picked up on the not-so-subtle cue that you might want him to take you back to his place, and you appreciated that he was sticking to the bit. “But it sounds like you’re an expert, so I think you should come over and be the judge of that.”

An answering grin curved your mouth and you murmured, “I’d like that.”

Then, before you could let your fear get the best of you again, you pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes, your lips brushing against Steve’s beard as you moved to whisper in his ear.

You shivered at the physical reminder of the coarse hair rasping deliciously against your cheeks when he’d kissed you and it took a moment to remember what you’d been about to say. When you did, you couldn’t hold in your smirk.

“Did I mention I do my best snuggling naked?”

“Sunshine.”

The nickname was uttered in a gruff, rumbling rasp, like the sound of a plow on snowy streets. It was so deep and delicious, your toes curled in delight and your mouth pulled into a full-blown grin.

You barely had time to pull away before Steve was wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and towing you in for a kiss.

Steve’s mouth was wonderfully soft and exquisitely warm and achingly familiar against yours. He wasted no time licking along the seam of your lips, seeking entrance that you happily gave him.

Your fingers curled around Steve’s sides beneath his sweater, digging greedily into the soft skin at his waist while you kissed him back feverishly, trying to close every gap between your bodies.

“Fuck, how does this feel so much better than I remember?” Steve growled against your lips, his hand on the back of your neck tilting your head just the way he wanted so he could lick even deeper into your mouth.

Your breathy, delirious laugh was swallowed by his all-consuming kiss, the sound turning into a helpless moan.

God, he was right, it did feel so much better than you remembered to have Steve’s mouth on yours, and you couldn’t fathom how you’d run away from him before because, in that moment, the last thing you wanted to do was stop. You wanted to kiss Steve for the rest of your life.

“I don’t know, but Steve, please, don’t stop,” you murmured when he finally let you up for air. You tried to catch your breath while he was busy pressing insatiable kisses to your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth, anywhere he could reach without straying too far from your lips.

Pulling your hands from beneath his sweater, your no longer freezing fingers threaded into the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, pulling him closer while at the same time pushing yourself up onto your tiptoes again. Your bodies slotted together even more perfectly, and you moaned softly into his mouth as you tugged him in for another kiss.

Steve kissed you harder, holding you tight to his chest like he was afraid that if he let go, you’d disappear on the wintry wind. In turn, you held him just as fiercely, your nails raking through the beard on the underside of his jaw and tugging lightly to bring him closer until he was rumbling a pleased sound deep in his chest.

“Get a room!”

The perfect bubble that had formed around and Steve abruptly popped, the sounds of the bustling holiday market rushing in along with the December chill and you pulled away, your first instinct to worry about what your friends would think. But then you caught the look on Steve’s face.

He was staring at you with such a blissed out expression, his blue eyes dark and hazy, a pleased smile on his kiss-swollen lips, that you couldn’t help but relax and melt back into him. You took your time to press a sweet kiss to his lips before turning to your friends.

Natasha, Yelena and Bucky all wore matching smug grins. Nat was even popping little chocolate candies into her mouth like she was enjoying the show.

“Oh no, please don’t stop on our account,” she called to you and Steve, gesturing with her hand for you both to continue. The whole group burst into raucous laughter.

Cracking up and shaking your head, you buried your face in Steve’s rumbling chest, feeling a little shy about being caught making out so heatedly by your friends. But you felt relief, too, that no one was upset—that all your friends were happy for you and Steve.

When you’d finally gotten ahold of yourself, you tipped your face up and caught Steve’s eye, giving him a sly smile that had his expression instantly darkening with a hunger that made you pulse with desire.

“So about that comfy bed of yours…” you murmured, just for him to hear. When he nodded once, quickly, to acknowledge he remembered it, you went on. “I’d love to see it if you’re ready to go?”

The implication of your question was clear and Steve clutched you tighter to his chest, capturing your lips for a brief, hot kiss that did more to warm you from the inside out than any of the hot chocolate you’d consumed that evening.

“Sunshine, I’ve been ready to take you home for years,” he rasped against your mouth, the honesty in his voice making you smile.

When Steve pulled away, he tugged you over to your group of friends and told them you were heading home—yes, together, he confirmed. All three of them murmured encouraging words in your ear as you hugged them goodbye, and you could tell by the pink tinging Steve’s cheeks that they were doing the same to him.

Once farewells were said, Steve snagged your hand and laced your fingers together. As you walked to the subway, he tucked your clasped hands into the pocket of his overcoat, and then your other into the crook of his elbow, where he covered it with his palm to keep you warm.

Steve held you tucked into his side the whole way back to his place while he made idle conversation, asking about the latest books you’d read and movies you’d watched. He only let go when it came time to pull out his keys and unlock his door.

There was a giddy, electric energy between the two of you as Steve helped you out of your coat and hung it up. Your gaze kept drifting back to him while you took off your boots and he hung up his overcoat. Once done, he stepped close, toeing out of his shoes next to where you’d dropped your boots.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Steve asked, his voice rough and a little uneven, like he was nervous. It made you smile, settling your own nerves to know he was right there with you.

You stepped further into Steve’s space, your fingers sneaking beneath the hem of his sweater and giggling when he sucked in a sharp breath. He’d made an excellent effort to keep your fingers warm on the way home, but the December cold had still snuck in.

It was a good thing Steve was there to warm you up again.

“I think I’d just like to see this comfy bed of yours,” you murmured, pushing up onto your tiptoes and kissing Steve.

The two of you lingered in the entryway of Steve’s apartment for long minutes, kissing and learning what made each other gasp and moan. His teeth nipped at your lower lip, sinking in hard enough to make you whimper before relenting and soothing the sting away with his tongue.

Meanwhile, you let your hands wander further beneath Steve’s sweater, finding a light trail of hair leading down to the waistband of his slacks. You raked your nails through it, and relished the pleased sound that rumbled in his chest.

Warm, wet desire was gathering between your thighs, and it wasn’t long before you squirmed impatiently against Steve, needing more.

By the time Steve broke the kiss and spun you around, his heavy hands dropping to your hips to guide you through his apartment, your panties were damp and you were aching for something only Steve could give you.

Both of you moved quickly as you let Steve lead you to his bedroom, pausing just inside the darkened room while he flicked on a light.

A soft, golden glow emanated from two lamps set on low wooden tables on either side of the massive bed. Curiously, your gaze roved over the room, taking in the earthy colors and tasteful design.

It seemed Steve hadn’t only gotten his wardrobe and appearance together—he’d also made his home a place that was warm and welcoming and entirely him.

The king-size bed was swathed in a thick, forest green comforter with dark charcoal sheets, a veritable pile of pillows at the head that looked far too enticing. The rest of the room was furnished with a dark wooden bookcase and dresser that matched the bed frame and side tables. There were even some vintage photographs of Brooklyn decorating the wall, along with some framed pictures on dresser.

Wandering over, you picked up one of the photographs. It was from the first autumn after you’d met Yelena and the others. The group had rented a car and gone to a farm upstate to go apple picking and enjoy all the other autumnal delights the state had to offer.

In the photo, you were tucked into Steve’s side on a bale of hay, ready for the hayride the group had decided to go on, with Yelena on your other side. There was a blanket draped over your laps, and Steve’s arm was wrapped around your shoulders. The three of you were beaming at the camera.

“Do you remember that trip?” Steve asked, sliding up behind you and wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. His chin rested on your shoulder while he peered at the photograph.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. Then you winced as you remembered something about the trip. “Wasn’t this the time I fell asleep on your shoulder on the way home and drooled all over your jacket?”

Steve laughed huskily in your ear.

“It is,” he confirmed, brushing a kiss to your cheek before murmuring. “I didn’t wash it for a month.”

It was your turn to laugh, though the sound was more of a surprised exhalation as you twisted your upper body so you could see his face better.

“What?”

Steve grimaced, wrinkling his nose and scuffing a hand against the back of his neck sheepishly, like he regretted admitting that to you.

“It was more because it smelled like you than because of the, y’know, drool,” he explained, his tone a tiny bit defensive. But then he looked at you, finding your face still frozen in surprise and his expression softened. “I’ve liked you since I met you, sunshine.”

It wasn’t anything Bucky hadn’t already told you, but it still felt like an entirely new revelation coming straight from Steve, and all you could think to say was, “Oh.”

You turned back to the photo, still held in your hand, and all you could think about was the fact that you had the same one tacked up on the corkboard over your desk. You wondered if Steve liked it for the same reason you did—because it made the two of you look like a happy couple, even with Yelena sitting next to you.

“I liked you too,” you confessed in a small voice.

Steve was quiet for a moment, his hold on you loosening slightly as you stepped forward to put the photograph back on his dresser. But when that was done, he towed you back in until your back was pressed to his chest.

“Liked?” he asked, enunciating the ‘d’ at the end of the word.

Your mouth flickered in a smile and you turned around in his arms. Your hands smoothed over his broad shoulders while you leaned into him, your soft curves pressing into the hard planes of his body.

“I liked you then, and I like you now, Steve,” you said, holding your breath as you stared up at him. Even knowing he felt the same way about you, it was still scary to lay your heart bare for the first time, and you waited eagerly for his response.

An exhale gusted from Steve and you couldn’t help but note the relief in his expression, even as he grinned wide.

“That’s good to hear, sunshine, because I like you, too.”

“Good,” you said with a grin, dragging Steve down for a too-brief kiss. “Now, will you take me to bed already?”

Steve’s laughter was muffled as he kissed you again, guiding you around and walking you backward until the backs of your legs hit the bed. He didn’t break the kiss as he lowered you to the soft mattress and helped you slide up the bed until your shoulders settled into the pile of pillows at the head.

Your arms wrapped around Steve and you pulled him down on top of you while he braced himself so he didn’t crush you. One of his legs slid between your thighs and he lowered himself down on top of you until his bulge pressed into your stomach. Your belly swooped with excitement and your pulse thrummed with desire.

Hiking one of your legs up around his waist, you writhed beneath Steve, grinding your hot core against his thigh through your jeans.

You couldn’t seem to stop touching him, your hands sketching the exact measure of his body, and he seemed to be doing the same. Steve’s hands couldn’t stay still, sliding up and down your sides before finally pushing beneath your sweater.

His warm, calloused fingers stroked covetously over your skin, and you felt extra sensitive wherever he touched you, his every caress sending shivers of pleasure racing through your body.

“Steve,” you whined, wrenching your mouth from his to drag in a much-needed breath. Even still, you craved more and your body rocked up into his, grinding against his thigh while his bulge pressed insistently into your belly.

“You feel so good, sunshine,” he rasped as he kissed a trail along your jaw and down to your neck. The scratch of his beard against your skin had you shuddering beneath his big body. “Can I��?” he asked, his fingertips teasing along the edge of your bra beneath your sweater.

“Yes—please,” you gasped. Your own fingers curled into the soft fabric of Steve’s sweater between his shoulder blades and you tugged on it, trying to pull it over his head.

Steve chuckled into your neck before he sat up and yanked his sweater off for you, baring the broad expanse of his chest. You caught glimpses of soft brown hair dusted across his pecs and endless swaths of golden skin before he was helping you out of your sweater.

You grumbled disgruntledly when your view of Steve was cut off as he tugged your sweater over your head, then as he leaned close to unclasp your bra and toss it somewhere in the room. You only dragged your eyes away from Steve’s perfect chest when he made a low, almost anguished sound.

He looked a little dazed, his eyes staring down at your bare breasts. Your chest was heaving slightly, making them bounce gently, and Steve looked almost hypnotized by the sight.

Snorting to yourself, you curled your fingers around his firm biceps and tugged him back down on top of you, whimpering when your nipples brushed against the hair on his chest. They pebbled as pleasure spiked through your body, settling heavily between your thighs and making even more wetness soak into your panties.

The movement had broken Steve from his trance and he began kissing from your neck down your chest. The rasp of his beard over your clavicle sent a delicious shiver down your spine, making you keen and tremble beneath him.

“Fuck, you’re so soft,” he rumbled gruffly into your skin. He buried his face in the valley between your breasts, groping your supple flesh in his big hands while pressing teasing kisses and gentle bites to your skin. “You’re so perfect, sunshine.”

You whined a needy sound, reacting to his touch as much as his awe-filled words, and threaded your fingers through Steve’s soft hair. You held him tightly to your chest, wordlessly pleading for more, and he enthusiastically indulged the request.

Steve wrapped his lips around your nipple and sucked deeply, drawing so much of you into his hot mouth, it felt like he was doing his damndest to devour you. You were already so sensitive for him that it felt like there was a direct line connecting your sensitive peak to your clit, and you cried out in pleasure, your spine arching up off the bed and pushing your chest further in Steve’s face.

He grinned, doing a poor job of hiding his self-satisfied expression in your soft tits, but you didn’t begrudge him the smugness—not when he nibbled at your hardened nipple so good, it made your hips buck up from the bed. A whine slipped from your lips when you realized you no longer had his thigh to grind against, your legs kicking restlessly at the sheets.

After giving the same torturous treatment to your other nipple, wringing even more whimpering whines and desperate keening sounds from your mouth, Steve began kissing his way further down your body. He nipped playfully at your belly before lifting his head to catch your eye.

It took you a moment to blink them into focus enough to see him clearly.

“I’ve been dreaming about your taste for years, sunshine,” he rumbled, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your jeans and tugging just enough that you knew he was asking if he could take them off. “Please, can I…?”

You were already nodding, your fingers fumbling over the button of your jeans. Steve seemed just as eager as you, gently pushing your hand aside and taking over as he thumbed it through the hole in the denim and pulled your zipper down. Then he was peeling your jeans down over you hips and thighs, taking your panties off at the same time.

In only a few seconds, you were stripped bare for the first time in front of Steve Rogers, and if it wasn’t for the shuddered exhale that gusted past his lips and the sizable bulge twitching in the front of his slacks, it might’ve occurred to you to feel a little insecure.

But before those thoughts could even begin to creep in, Steve was dragging his hands up your thighs and spreading your legs with a reverent look on his face, giving an appreciative rumble deep in his chest as he raked his eyes up the naked length of your body.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, sunshine,” he rasped, pressing his face between your thighs and taking a deep breath.

Heat bloomed in your cheeks, but you didn’t have time to wonder at how you smelled because Steve was licking his tongue into the seam of your pussy, groaning like he’d eaten something delicious.

“Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined,” he growled before diving in deeper, burying his face against your cunt and eating you out like he was a dying man and you were his last meal.

In no time at all, he had you crying out, your hips bucking up off the bed as pleasure swirled through your body. It was all you could do to try to stop yourself from humping against his handsome face.

Steve’s thick biceps banded around your thighs and he held you spread open while he feasted on you, his eyes staring up past your quivering belly and heaving chest to watch your reactions. He sucked and nibbled and flicked his tongue over your sensitive clit, paying attention to what had you writhing and moaning your pleasure beneath him.

He licked into your pussy, fucking you with his tongue until you were squirming and panting on the bed, your thighs tensing and trembling with your building release.

Needing something to hold on to, you threaded your fingers into Steve’s hair, holding his head against your greedy pussy and rocking your hips into him. You moaned loudly, unabashedly, grinding against his mouth and beard as you neared the edge.

“Oh god, Steve, ‘m so close, please—please, don’t stop, ‘m gonna come,” you babbled, your spine arching up off the bed as you threw your head back into the pile of soft pillows. “Fuck, please, please, please!”

It was clear that Steve was a quick study when it came to your body, and he put what he’d learned to good use, sucking hard on your clit and flicking his tongue over it, steadily driving your pleasure higher until, finally, it crested. And then he pushed you right over the edge.

Your fingers fisted in Steve’s hair and you humped shamelessly against his face as you came with a cry of his name—“Steve!” Your body tightened, and then loosened as wave after wave of pleasure swept through your limbs, making you shiver intensely while Steve’s mouth worked you through your release.

When the pleasure began to ebb, you melted back into the soft blankets on Steve’s bed, a dazed smile curving your mouth. Steve eased you down with gentle sweeps of his tongue and soft kisses to your inner thighs, murmuring sweet words to you about how good you tasted on his tongue.

It wasn’t until you whimpered from overstimulation that Steve stopped. He pressed one last kiss to the top of your mound before pushing himself up. His happy grin when he saw the sated, content expression on your face made your heart skip a beat in your chest. He was just so damn handsome.

“Good?” Steve asked, though you knew from the self-satisfied look in his eye that he already knew the answer to his question.

Still, you nodded. “So good,” you purred, stretching and reaching for him. Your fingers curled into coarse hair on the underside of his jaw and you tugged him up your body for a kiss.

You could taste yourself on his lips, and his beard was so drenched in your juices, it made your own cheeks damp. A groan worked its way up your throat at the filthiness of the kiss, and you pulled Steve closer, letting him muffle the sound as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

Even though Steve had just made you come harder than anyone else in your entire life, renewed desire was beginning to bloom in your core, the heat of your arousal already building again. Distractedly, you recognized that you’d never felt the way you did for anyone but Steve—insatiable, unwilling to let the night end just yet.

When Steve’s hard bulge knocked against your hip, a devious smirk curled your lips and you wasted no time trailing your fingers down his bare, golden chest to grope his cock through his slacks. He was hard and heavy in your hand, and an excited thrill raced down your spine at the thought of taking him in your mouth.

Steve groaned against your lips, his big body shuddering when you squeezed and stroked him through the thick material of his pants. So you did it again, rubbing him with your palm until you felt his hard length jump against your fingers, like his body was just as eager for your touch as the rest of him.

“We don’t have to do more,” Steve said, his voice a little breathless. “I-I mean, you don’t have to return the favor or anything. I’m good to just go to sleep if that’s what you want.”

Steve’s words were honorable, but you didn’t want to sleep.

You pushed at his larger body until he flipped onto his back. Following after him, you kissed down his chest, taking a moment to nuzzle in the soft hair scattered across his pecs before you lifted your head and caught his eye, letting him see the desire in yours.

“I bet I’ve dreamed about sucking your cock just as much as you dreamed about eating my pussy,” you whispered huskily, holding his gaze determinedly while you shifted down his body until your face was level with his bulge. You mouthed at his hard length through his slacks. “Please, Steve, can I…?”

“Yeah—yes—fuck, sunshine, you can do whatever you want,” he rasped, helping you undo his button and fly, his fingers trembling. Then he lifted his hips so you could pull his pants down.

You felt like you were unwrapping the most perfect Christmas present as you tugged his slacks and boxer briefs down his thick, toned thighs. You even let out a little gasp of delight when Steve’s cock bounced free, marveling at the sheer masculine beauty of it.

Impatiently, you pulled his clothes the rest of the way off, pausing only to kiss his thighs, enjoying the softness of his leg hair against your lips and cheeks, before returning to his cock.

Taking him in hand, you circled your fingers around the thick shaft and gave him a loose pump, watching how he bucked his hips into your fist from just that little bit of touching. Steve’s hands were fisted in the blankets on the bed, like he was holding himself back from touching you, and you decided you want to make the man—your man—lose himself in pleasure, just like he’d done to you.

You ducked down and licked the tip of Steve’s cock, humming in delight as the salty, musky taste of his precum burst on your tongue. The vibrations made Steve groan and you hid a self-satisfied smirk against his cock, before refocusing on your task.

You pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses up and down Steve’s shaft, staring up his hard, firm body while he watched you worship his cock. His cheeks were tinged pink, a light sheen of sweat dotting his brow and his eyes were so dark, his pupils blown so wide, they looked like the navy blue night sky on a winter evening.

When you ducked down further, taking his balls into your mouth and suckling greedily, Steve’s gaze widened and his cock twitched in your hand.

“Sunshine,” he rasped, the nickname sounding like a plea for mercy as he groaned loudly. “Ya keep sucking my balls and I’m gonna come way too soon.”

With a smirk, you gave his sensitive sac one last little suckle before letting it fall from your lips, then you licked up the length of his cock.

“Can’t have that,” you quipped, shooting him a smug grin. You pressed a kiss to the tip and wrapped your lips around the head, taking him into your mouth and sucking hard enough to make his hips buck up off the bed.

Another anguished sound wrenched free from Steve’s lips.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned as he settled back down, one of his hands coming to rest on the crown of your head—not pushing you down or pulling you away, just holding you like he couldn’t help but touch you.

For a moment, you focused on Steve’s cock, pulling back before taking him deeper into your mouth, using your tongue to swirl around the head and trace the veins decorating his shaft while your fist stroked him. But when you flicked your gaze up to Steve, you found him watching you with adoration in his eyes.

“You’re amazing, sunshine,” he rumbled when he noticed he had your attention, one side of his mouth pulling up in a lopsided grin. “You’re gorgeous—and you look so fucking hot with my cock in your mouth.”

The corners of your mouth flickered in a pleased smile as his praise washed over you, and you closed your eyes, soaking it in. When you opened them again, you redoubled your efforts on Steve, bobbing up and down on his length at a steady pace while you pumped him in your fist.

You lost yourself in the pleasure of sucking Steve’s cock, and before long, you could feel yourself growing wet all over again. Your inner walls clenched pathetically around nothing while your mouth was filled with his big dick, but you didn’t want to stop.

However, before you could make Steve come down your throat, his hands gently gripped your head and he pulled you up off his cock. With his considerable strength, Steve hauled you back up the bed and rolled you over onto your back beneath him, bracing himself on one hand while the other slide between your thighs. He bit off a curse when he felt how wet you were.

“Christ, sunshine, ya got this wet from sucking my cock?” he asked, a note of teasing in his tone that had heat coursing through your body. Before you could respond, though, his mouth found yours for a kiss.

You were certain he must’ve been able to taste himself on your tongue, but he didn’t seem to care. He was too determined to devour your lips and swallow your moan while he speared you open with two fingers, capturing your cry of pleasure.

“Oh god, Steve,” you mumbled against his mouth, your hips rocking into his hand and fucking his fingers. “Please, I need you—I need you to fuck me.” Your hand was fisted in Steve’s soft hair and you clung to him, your entire being straining to get closer while still taking all the pleasure his fingers offered.

“Thank fuck—I need you so goddamned bad, sunshine,” he groaned, easing his fingers from your dripping hole and rolling onto his back so he could reach for something.

A moment later, you heard the sound of a wooden drawer snap closed and he rolled back on top of you, the square foil packet of a condom held in his fingers.

“Ya wanna do the honors?” he asked, his grin so charming and so like the Steve you’d known for so many years that it took your breath away.

But there was a comfort and an ease to the moment because you were there with Steve—your Steve—and you laughed at his silly offer. You were shaking your head even as you took the packet and tore it open, tossing the foil aside and making quick work of rolling the condom onto his cock.

When you were done, you gave the base of his shaft an affectionate squeeze and Steve chuckled, capturing your lips in a kiss while he shifted on top of you, pressing his knees between your legs and spreading your thighs to make room for his big, broad body.

You opened happily for him, kissing him back while your legs hooked around the backs of his thighs. Together, you lined your bodies up until Steve’s cock lay heavily against your mound, kissing lazily all the while.

After a moment, Steve broke the kiss, pushing himself up with one hand while the other fisted his hard length and held himself away from the place where you ached for him to fill. He stared deep into your eyes and gave you a serious look, a little bit of anxiety swirling in his gaze.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his eyes roving over your face like he was searching for any hidden remnant of hesitance on your part—any sign that you might run, you realized. “Because I’ve wanted this—I’ve wanted you for so long, that if you tell me tomorrow this was a mistake…” Steve paused, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed, “it’ll break my fucking heart, sunshine.”

Steve’s voice cracked a little on the pet name and it made your heart split open in your chest. You didn’t know if you’d ever forgive yourself for hurting Steve the way you did, for saying those things you didn’t mean and trying to push him away when all you’d wanted was to pull him closer.

You decided then and there to make it up to him—and that began with being honest with him. Always.

So you threaded your fingers into Steve’s beard until you were cupping his face and you stared him directly in the eye as you answered his question.

“I’m sure, Steve,” you said firmly, certainty resonating in your tone. “I was scared before—I’ve wanted you for so long that the thought of finally having you was terrifying.” You gave him a tremulous, apologetic smile, and his expression softened. “But I’m sure about this,” you said again, your voice stronger. “I’m sure about you, and I’m sure about us.”

When you finished your confession, Steve’s eyes closed and he exhaled a long, relieved breath. You pulled him down for a kiss, and it was a gentle thing—tentative as you both savored the vulnerability you shared, physically and emotionally, thanking one another for the trust that took.

It was only when the kiss ended and Steve pressed his forehead to yours that he pushed inside you for the first time, his thick cock sinking deep into your pussy with one determined, inexorable thrust.

Your arms and legs were wrapped around him already and you clung to Steve as you cried out, tears of emotion pricking at the backs of your eyes even as pleasure radiated through your body.

“You ok?” Steve asked softly and the question—so gentle and genuine—had a tear spilling onto your cheek. He brushed it away.

“This is the happiest I’ve ever been,” you admitted in a thick voice, tugging Steve’s mouth back to yours, kissing him deeply.

Together, you gave yourselves over to your instincts. Steve pulled his hips back until only half of him remained inside, and your heels dug into the backs of his thighs, urging him to plunge deep into you again. He slid home, and both of you moaned.

Steve rocked into you with slow, thorough thrusts, but when you moaned for more, he drew back more each time and thrust harder. It wasn’t long before he was fucking you in hard, deep strokes that hit all the most perfect spots inside you, his mouth kissing your cheeks and neck and anywhere he could reach while he held you pinned to his chest, his hips working his cock deep into your cunt.

With every hard thrust, you clung more tightly to Steve, holding him with your arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers buried in his hair, thankful he’d grown it long enough that you could grip it tight in your fists. Your body writhed beneath his bigger form, using your legs draped around his thighs to meet his thrusts.

For what seemed like forever, you and Steve were nothing more than two writhing bodies trying to get closer, deeper, tighter together, like your hearts were straining to become one. And you were so consumed with pleasure that it wasn’t until you were right on the precipice of your release that you realized you were close.

“Steve,” you gasped, trying to tell him you were going to come, and just then he changed the angle of his hips, stealing the words from your lips.

He was driving his cock so deep into your cunt and grinding against your clit so exquistiely that you saw stars. Your body shook under a deluge of pleasure and the coil of tension twisted tighter in your core.

“Come for me, sunshine,” Steve rumbled, fucking you hard and deep and so perfectly you knew you were forever ruined for any other man. “Be a good girl and come on my cock before I fucking explode.”

His filthy words were your undoing.

You shattered apart, sharp, sparkling pleasure devastating your body and mind while you screamed Steve’s name as you came. Your whole body clenched tight, clamping down on Steve’s cock hard enough that he grunted into your neck, then you succumbed to the pleasure as it dragged you under its thrall, whimpers and moans spilling from your lips mindlessly.

Steve’s hands gripped your hips tightly, and he rutted into your clenching pussy with wild thrusts as he chased his own release. He found it only a moment after yours, groaning your name against your cheek while his hips stuttered and shunted forward, burying himself balls-deep in your fluttering pussy while he came, his cock throbbing deep in your cunt.

You held each other close as you came down from your releases. Your fingers stroked through Steve’s soft hair, the strands damp with sweat, and twirled around the gently curling ends. Meanwhile, his hands were petting up and down your sides, his face buried in the pillow beside your head while he rumbled muffled words of praise in your ear.

Eventually, Steve sat up, pulling his softening cock as gently from your body as he could manage, watching your face closely for any hint of pain. You were a little sore, but when he pulled free, your body mourned the loss of him more than anything else.

He quickly disposed of the condom and wrapper in his bathroom, then came back with a warm wet washcloth. He cleaned you up with gentle caresses, pressing a kiss to your hip and nipping playfully at your belly until you were giggling and pushing him away, your body too tired and sated and oversensitive for such treatment—but you were grinning all the same.

When he was done, you rose from the bed and went to the bathroom while he padded to his dresser. After you were done, you found Steve relaxing on his bed in only a pair of lounge pants, his chiseled chest deliciously bare and biceps bulging with his hands tucked behind his head.

You paused, raking your eyes over his gorgeous chest, only catching his gaze when he made a deep, rumbling sound of good-natured warning.

“You better put on some pajamas, sunshine,” Steve started, his blue eyes heated and a playful smile flickering at the edges of his mouth, almost hidden by his beard. “Unless you want me to fuck you again.”

The threat in his tone was flirtatious and you almost took him up on the offer. But you knew that if Steve fucked you again, you’d be sore the next day, and you didn’t want that. Huffing a petulant sigh, you moved to the pile of folded clothes Steve had left on the corner of the bed.

The heat in Steve’s eyes didn’t abate as he watched you pull one of his shirts over your head, tugging the hem down until it covered your ass and part of your thigh. You didn’t have any clean panties, so you crawled into bed like that, your eyes finding Steve and watching as the heat of desire softened into the warmth of affection.

The two of you slid beneath the blankets and you curled up at Steve’s side, your head on his chest. You fell asleep quickly and easily to the sound of his gentle breathing, and the steady drumming of his heart beating beneath your cheek.

The next morning, you woke to snow flurries drifting past the windows of Steve’s bedroom, the flakes having covered his neighborhood in a blanket of white while you slept. You pressed a happy smile against Steve’s sternum, the expression deepening when you felt his heart skip a beat at your closeness.

“So, is my bed comfy enough for you, sunshine?” he asked in the deep rasp of a man who’d just woken up. Using his arms looped around your waist, he pulled you on top of him, his mouth finding yours for a decadent good morning kiss before he let you answer.

“Hmm,” you hummed playfully in thought, smiling against his mouth while you pulled him closer with your fingers curled into the scruffy, coarse hair of his beard. “It could use a few more pillows—and maybe a nice throw blanket.”

“Consider it done,” he murmured, rolling you beneath his broad body and sliding his hips between your thighs. His morning wood brushed against your bare core and you moaned into his mouth. “Anything you want, you just tell me, sunshine,” he rumbled in between slow, drugging kisses, his hips rolling leisurely against you. “I want my girlfriend to feel comfortable here.”

“Girlfriend?” you gasped breathlessly, your heart beating harder with excitement while he pulled away to kiss down your neck. You could feel Steve’s grin against the side of your throat before he pressed a kiss against your thrumming pulse.

“You wanna be my girlfriend, don’t ya, sunshine?” he asked.

It was only because you’d known Steve for so long, and were so determined never to hurt him again, that you heard the tiny thread of anxiety in his tone. You squeezed him tightly in your arms and rushed to answer, eager to put his worry to rest.

“Yes!” you cried happily. “Yes, I want to be your girlfriend, Steve.” You twisted your fingers in his soft hair and tugged his mouth up from your neck. “Now kiss me, boyfriend,” you murmured and Steve, obligingly, crushed his mouth to yours in a blissful kiss.

You and Steve reveled in your new relationship, spending a long time in bed just kissing and exploring each other and making up for lost time before your growling stomachs finally made you get up.

After breakfast, Steve seemed to remember something and he padded to the entryway, coming back with the box he’d acquired at the holiday market the evening before. He handed it to you, saying there was no way he’d be able to wait until Christmas to give it to you.

You opened the present, finding a simple silver chain and a stunningly engraved sun pendant within. You were so overwhelmed with happiness that tears sprang to your eyes and you had to hastily wipe them away.

“A little bit of sunshine for my sunshine,” Steve murmured against your temple before pressing a kiss to your skin.

At your insistence, he helped you put the necklace on and you thanked him graciously—with words and kisses. Then you towed Steve back to bed, and the two of you gave in to the pleasure of your bodies until you collapsed, sated once again.

All day, you couldn’t stop smiling. You were doing one of your favorite things, snuggling on a snowy day, with one of your favorite people in the world—your boyfriend. And you were making plans for the future, talking about what you were going to get your other friends for Christmas and arguing about how to best decorate Steve’s apartment for the holiday.

The whole time, you couldn’t help but think about how Christmas would always be extra special for you from that year on. It was a wonderful holiday but, more importantly to you, it was when you and Steve Rogers finally admitted your feelings for one another and took the first step toward a forever together.

So, this time of year would always be your favorite time of year.

december daze challenge masterlist

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #navy and roo's sleepover #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers au #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #chris evans smut #witchywithwhiskeywork #december daze #friends to lovers

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brunchable · 1 month ago

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Under The Mistletoe | B. B.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x F! Reader Themes: Fake relationship, forced proximity, enemies-to-lovers(ish), rom-com Summary: When your meddling family won’t stop asking about you love life, you roped your arch-nemesis Bucky into pretending to be your boyfriend for Christmas dinner at your parents house. It was pay back for the massive favor he owes you, so he had no choice but to agree. A/N : This oneshot is part of my 4K Follower christmas themed celebration. I hope you enjoy this first one! Thank you so much for reading my stories! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The smell of pine and cinnamon wafts through the air as you adjust the cuffs of your sweater, glaring at the man currently making himself at home in your parents’ living room. James Buchanan Barnes—your nemesis, your tormentor, the human equivalent of a lump of coal—lounges on the couch like he’s been a part of your family for years. Your mom already adores him.

“James, more eggnog?” she chirps, holding out a festive mug.

“Of course,” Bucky replies with a smile so charming, you almost believe it’s real. Almost.

You, on the other hand, are clinging to your sanity by the thinnest strand of tinsel. He’s only here because he owes you. Big time. And because your family won’t stop asking when you’ll finally settle down and find someone “worth bringing home for Christmas.”

When you roped Bucky into this charade, you expected the bare minimum. A few fake smiles. Maybe holding your hand once or twice. What you did not expect was him waltzing in here, winning over your family, and actually knowing things about you.

“Y/N hates marshmallows in her hot chocolate,” Bucky says smoothly, stopping your dad mid-scoop. “She’s all about the whipped cream.”

You freeze in the doorway, clutching a tray of cookies like a lifeline. How does he know that? You never even told him that. Your dad raises an eyebrow at you, impressed, while you try to recover from the shock.

“Right,” you stammer, narrowing your eyes at Bucky. “Because you’re so attentive.”

He smirks, the twinkle in his eye more annoying than any Christmas light you’ve ever seen. “It’s a gift.”

× × × ×

The cozy living room, aglow with soft Christmas lights, feels oppressively warm. Not because of the crackling fire or the wool socks your mom forced everyone to wear, but because Bucky’s presence next to you is positively suffocating. His thigh, firm and annoyingly warm, is pressed against yours, and every time he shifts, your nerves jolt like a live wire.

“You’re twitching again,” Bucky murmurs under his breath, leaning closer so his lips almost brush your ear. “Relax. If you keep acting like this, your mom’s going to think I broke your heart or something.”

“Maybe I should tell her you’re insufferable, so she kicks you out,” you snap, voice low enough not to disturb the room. Your family is fully engrossed in Elf, but you swear Bucky’s gaze burns hotter than the fire.

“Go ahead,” he whispers back, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m her favorite now, you know.”

You resist the urge to stab him with the candy cane you’ve been holding for the last ten minutes. Instead, you muster your sweetest fake smile and clap your hands. “Well, Mom, it’s getting late, and I think Bucky has a long drive ahead of him—”

Your mom, standing with a tray of cookies like some sort of Christmas matriarch, freezes mid-step.

“What?” she exclaims, her eyes wide and full of betrayal. “You’re not staying, Bucky? But I prepared Y/N’s room for the two of you!”

The room goes dead silent.

Bucky’s head swivels toward you so fast, you hear a faint crack.

“She didn’t tell me about that,” he says, his voice strangled with barely concealed panic. He offers you a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “Didn’t know we’d be, uh, bunking together.”

You grit your teeth, your face burning hotter than the fireplace. “That’s because I didn’t know,” you hiss, shooting a glare at your mom that could melt Frosty the Snowman.

“How could you make your boyfriend drive all the way out here just to send him back into the snow?” your mom demands, hands on her hips like a Christmas tyrant. “Absolutely not. He’s staying. Come on, Bucky, I’ll show you two to your room.”

“Our room?” you squeak, but your mom is already bustling out of the room, and Bucky, to your utter horror, is rising from the couch to follow her.

He pauses just long enough to lean down and mutter, “This just got a whole lot more interesting, sweetheart.” The grin he flashes is wolfish, and you resist the urge to throttle him with your flannel sleeve.

The room is straight out of a Hallmark Christmas special. The fireplace is lit, the bed is perfectly made with a festive quilt and decorative pillows, and the faint smell of pine fills the air. There’s even mistletoe hanging in the corner, mocking you.

Bucky steps in, glancing around, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and terror.

“Wow,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Cozy.”

Your mom claps her hands together, beaming. “I knew you two would love it. Oh, and don’t worry, honey, I put the extra pillows in the closet in case you need them.” She winks at you, winks, before spinning on her heel and leaving you to your doom.

The moment the door clicks shut, you whirl on Bucky. “Don’t say a word.”

He holds up his hands in mock surrender, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrays him.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, doll,” he drawls, wandering over to the bed and plopping down on it like he owns the place. He stretches out, arms behind his head, and sighs dramatically. “Comfy. We’re gonna have a great night.”

You stare at him, horrified. “You’re sleeping on the floor.”

He raises an eyebrow, patting the quilt beside him. “I don’t think your mom would approve.”

You throw a decorative pillow at his face, which he catches with infuriating ease. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault? You’re the one who dragged me here.”

“You owed me!”

“And I’m paying you back,” he says with a grin, tossing the pillow back at you. “With interest, apparently.”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I cannot believe this is happening.”

Bucky leans forward, his grin softening just a touch. “Relax, Y/N. It’s just one night. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Somehow, that promise doesn’t reassure you in the slightest. You glare at him one last time before grabbing a blanket from the closet and stomping to the couch by the fireplace.

“Where are you going?” he calls after you.

“To sleep.”

“Suit yourself.”

You don’t have to look to know he’s smirking again. You grab another pillow and resist the urge to launch it at his stupidly handsome face.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

× × × ×

The fire had long since died, leaving the room shrouded in a cold that no amount of decorative holiday cheer could banish. You’d been curled up on the couch under a threadbare blanket that smelled faintly of cinnamon and humiliation for hours, but now you were shivering so hard you were worried your teeth might chatter loud enough to wake the whole house.

You shot a death glare at Bucky, sprawled out on the bed like a smug prince in his flannel pajamas, the quilt pulled up to his chin. The nerve of him actually letting you sleep on the couch while he hogged the bed like he didn’t owe you his very existence—or at least this ridiculous favor.

Finally, when your toes felt like icicles and you were seriously debating setting your pride on fire just to warm up, you caved. You untangled yourself from the blanket, muttering curses under your breath, and tiptoed toward the bed.

It would have been stealthy. It would have been smooth. Except your foot made direct, agonizing contact with the solid oak footboard.

Pain exploded through your toe, and you bit back a screech so feral you probably looked like a Christmas banshee. Instead, you crumpled to the floor, clutching your foot and mouthing a stream of silent profanities that would make Santa's naughty list blush.

“Mother F—!” you hissed at yourself, wincing as you hobbled the rest of the way to the bed. You crawled onto the empty side like some kind of injured burglar, trying to be as silent as possible. Your toe throbbed in time with your heartbeat, but you focused on one thing: the warm cocoon of blankets just inches away.

Finally, you slid under the covers, sighing as the heat from the quilt enveloped you. Bliss. Sweet, sweet bliss. Maybe Bucky wouldn’t even notice—

“Could’ve just asked, you know.”

You nearly launched yourself out of the bed in shock, your heart leaping into your throat. “What the—!” you whisper-screeched, clutching the quilt to your chest.

Bucky’s voice, low and laced with amusement, drifted through the darkness. “I was awake the whole time.”

“You—!” Words failed you as your face burned with embarrassment. “Then why didn’t you say anything?!”

“I was curious how far you’d go before giving up.” You could hear the grin in his voice.

“You’re the worst.”

“Debatable. I didn’t laugh when you stubbed your toe.”

“You heard that?!”

“Sweetheart, I think the neighbours heard that.” His shoulders shook with silent laughter as you stared at him, outraged.

“I hate you,” you snapped, yanking the quilt tighter around you and turning your back on him.

But before you could stew in your annoyance, you felt a hand reach over and pull part of the blanket from you, wrapping it snugly around your side. You froze as his voice softened, amusement fading.

“Relax. I don’t bite. Unless you’re still mad about the couch.”

“I am.”

“Noted.” He shifted, and his voice dropped lower, warmer. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You turned over, your curiosity finally getting the better of you. Facing Bucky’s silhouette in the faint moonlight streaming through the window, you squinted at him.

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

He exhaled softly, like he’d been waiting for you to ask. Without a word, he reached over and flicked on the small lamp on his side of the bed, filling the room with a soft golden glow. The shadows on his face softened, and he turned to face you fully, propping his head up on his hand.

“I’m not used to a soft, warm, comfortable bed,” he said simply, his voice low and quiet.

That wasn’t the answer you expected. “Why not?” you asked, furrowing your brow.

Bucky’s gaze flickered to the blanket between you before settling back on your face. “I usually sleep on the floor.”

Your jaw dropped. “The floor? Why?”

He shrugged like it was no big deal, like it didn’t hurt to admit. “I have a bed,” he said casually, “but… being uncomfortable has kind of become my normal.”

Your heart sank at his admission. The way he said it—so matter-of-factly, like he didn’t even consider it strange—made something in your chest tighten. You swallowed hard, trying to shove down the wave of sympathy threatening to show on your face.

“Oh,” you said, clearing your throat, but it came out too soft, too affected. You forced yourself to straighten up, busying your hands by tucking the quilt tighter around you. “Well, uh… this bed uncomfortably soft, so, lucky you?”

You wanted to kick yourself for how awkward that sounded. But he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he just chuckled, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners.

“Yeah, lucky me.”

The room fell into silence, save for the soft crackle of the dying embers in the fireplace. You tried to avoid his gaze, but something in the room caught your eye, and you froze.

Dangling right above the headboard, in plain sight, was a sprig of mistletoe. The ribbon holding it swayed slightly, mocking you with its festive cheer.

Your brain scrambled. How had you missed that earlier? Why on earth was it there? Did mom hang it on purpose? Of course she did! That woman was a menace.

You could feel Bucky’s gaze lingering on you, and your heart thumped louder with each passing second. You knew it was only a matter of time before he noticed the stupid sprig of mistletoe dangling above the headboard, so you needed to distract him.

“What are you looking at?” he asked, his brow quirking up in suspicion as he started to turn his head.

“Nothing!” you yelped, throwing the quilt over your face in a panic. “Nothing! Absolutely nothing. Goodnight!”

For a second, there was silence. Then, the soft creak of the bed as Bucky shifted, his voice low and amused. “Wait a second…”

You could practically hear the smirk spreading across his face as realization dawned.

“Oh, would you look at that.”

Your stomach flipped as you slowly peeked out from under the quilt. Sure enough, Bucky was staring right at the mistletoe, his lips curving into the most maddeningly smug grin you’d ever seen.

“Mistletoe,” he said, his tone practically dripping with glee. “Right above our heads. What are the odds, huh?”

“Coincidence,” you mumbled, pulling the blanket back over your face.

He chuckled, his voice warm and teasing. “You know what they say about mistletoe, don’t you?”

“Don’t,” you groaned, your voice muffled by the quilt.

“Oh, but I think I have to,” he replied, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “It’s tradition, after all.”

You peeked out again, glaring at him. “It’s not tradition if we just pretend it doesn’t exist.”

He tilted his head, mock-pondering. “Hmm. Ignoring it feels a little… Grinch-like, don’t you think? And you wouldn’t want to ruin Christmas, would you?”

“I swear to God, Bucky—”

Before you could finish, he leaned in, his face closer than you expected, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “What? Afraid you might enjoy it?”

You scoffed, your heart racing. “As if.”

You could practically feel your heart trying to escape your chest as Bucky inched closer, the infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was something else there too—something warmer, more intent.

“Oh, so it wouldn’t bother you at all?” he teased, his smirk widening. “Not even a little kiss?”

“Not in a million years,” you shot back, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, his grin softening, “you’re shaking. Maybe it would bother you.”

“Bucky—”

But you never got to finish. And just then, he leaned forward and kissed your lips. Warm, masculine lips were pressed to yours. It wasn’t rushed or teasing—it was warm, gentle, and infuriatingly confident. Like he’d been waiting for this. Like he wasn’t the least bit surprised by how perfectly your lips fit together.

Your initial plan was to push him away—firmly, dramatically, maybe even with a good shove to his ridiculously broad chest—but your brain short-circuited the moment his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. Instead, you melted into him, your traitorous body leaning closer without permission.

It was supposed to be a simple, obligatory mistletoe kiss. But the way he kissed you made the world tilt, his lips moving with a deliberate tenderness that made your stomach somersault. He felt you quiver beneath his touch, but he wanted to comfort you—his tongue delved your mouth slowly and you parted your lips willingly and welcomed him. This was enough encouragement for Bucky; he sucked your tongue sensually, and you nibbled his lower lip.

Every kiss he gave felt like a slow unravelling and intense, as if he was savouring the act as much as the reaction it drew from you. Bucky’s fingers traced along your jaw, tilting your face toward him with a tender authority that left no room for hesitation. His thumb brushed over your cheek in a soothing rhythm, contrasting with the heat and urgency of his lips. When he pulled back, his eyes locked with yours—dark with desire, soft with something unspoken—before he leaned in again, claiming your mouth once more.

You let him in, your lips parting as his tongue slipped past, tangling with yours again in an unhurried, sensuous dance that sent shivers down your spine. He tilted his head, exploring every curve of your mouth, his kisses leaving a heated trail that set your skin ablaze. Your lips found their way to his jawline, pressing soft kisses along his stubble, the faint roughness amplifying the sensitivity of your own. When you returned to his lips, the hunger in his kiss mirrored your own as you teased his tongue with yours, your movements bold and enticing.

The shift in your energy didn’t go unnoticed. You felt him tense, his restraint hanging by a thread as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing into yours. His hands gripped your waist, anchoring you in place as his kisses became hungrier, pulling quiet moans and ragged breaths from you. The sound of your pleasure seemed to fuel him, his control slipping further as he pressed closer, his arousal hard and insistent against your thigh, a tangible reminder of the tension thrumming between you. Every kiss, every touch, felt like a declaration, his desire spilling over and igniting something equally fierce in you.

When he pulled back it almost felt like he had to force himself to but he stayed close, his forehead almost brushing yours. His eyes searched your face, his smirk gone, replaced by something quieter, something more serious.

“Well,” he said softly, his voice lower than you’d ever heard it, “guess the mistletoe’s not so bad after all.”

You blinked, your breath hitching. “Have I told you I hate you?”

“And yet, here we are,” he teased, though his smirk was softer now, his thumb still brushing your cheek like he hadn’t realized he was still holding you.

You pushed his hand away—gently, because you were not going to think about how good it felt—and flopped back against the pillows, groaning into the quilt.

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Of course not,” he said with a chuckle, settling back onto his side of the bed. “Just a harmless little kiss. Totally meaningless.”

You peeked out from under the quilt to glare at him, but the way he was looking at you—soft, amused, and maybe a little too smug—made your pulse spike all over again.

“Goodnight, Barnes,” you muttered, burrowing back into the covers, determined to ignore the way your lips still tingled.

“Goodnight, doll,” he replied, his voice warm with amusement—and something else you didn’t want to think about.

The room fell quiet again, save for the faint crackle of the dying fire. But as you lay there, trying and failing to stop replaying the kiss in your head, you realized one thing: mistletoe was officially the most dangerous Christmas decoration of all time.

tags: @lomlbuckybarnes @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss @mostlymarvelgirl

@missvelvetsstuff @unaxv @carnal-vogue @bmyva1entine @wheredidiputmyfish

@thereoncewasagirlnamedjane @wanda-widow @filmologetica @awaywithtime @Thealyrs

@greatenthusiasttidalwave @winchestert101 @strawberrybisou @unaxv @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fynnwolff @veronicapaula

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shy-writer-999 · 3 months ago

Text

Summary: Luffy gets into an alluring tin of mysterious cookies. One thing leads to another, and he ends up in your room, disoriented and distressed. What will it take to help him feel better? ~5k words.

CW: Smut with a bit of plot. Afab reader, gendered language (“princess”), overstimulation, dry humping, begging, aphrodisiacs, penetrative sex.

MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

Luffy stumbles into your cabin late at night. The door is wide open and it seems like no one else on the Sunny is awake. You’re messing around on your phone, doom scrolling to pass the time and entertain yourself. You wish that you could fall sleep, but it won’t come any time soon. It’s a restless sort of night.

He almost trips over his feet as he crashes onto the chair by your desk.

“Luffy, what’s up? It’s late.”

A closer look at him reveals that he’s sweating and bright red. His eyes look off and he looks sick.

“Are you okay?” You’re worried—he looks seriously unwell.

“I feel funny. I think I ate something bad, my tummy hurts.” Luffy’s brows are bent in the middle and he’s grimacing.

You’ve seen Luffy when he has food poisoning before. He literally turns green and complains non-stop. It’s his own fault, he’s like a racoon. He’ll eat anything, regardless of how questionable it is. Old leftovers wherever he can find them, almost-rotting fruit, poisonous fish, none of it matters for Luffy. If it looks edible, he’s taking it to the neck. He frequently suffers the consequences.

But right now, he’s not green, like he usually is when he’s eaten something spoiled. He looks different.

You get up and walk over to him, placing your hand on his forehead. When your skin touches his, he lets out what initially sounds like some sort of moan, but you shrug it off—that must have been a wail of pain, right? He’s concerningly feverish and sweating bullets.

Does he have the flu? Should you wake up Chopper?

“Luffy, you’re burning up. Like, you have a really bad fever. I’m going to get Chopper.”

“Wait, I feel—I feel weird inside,” Luffy’s voice strains and he sounds like he’s in pain He’s visibly shivering. “It’s like my stomach is on fire, but I feel cold.” He continues almost babbling, so obviously in distress and discomfort, feverish nonsense falling from his lips impulsively.

You don’t realize it yet, but his hand wanders to his crotch and starts to fidget.

“Your stomach is on fire but you’re freezing cold? Did you eat something that went bad again? What did you eat?” You raise an eyebrow at him, vaguely annoyed. He sure doesn’t look like he has food poisoning. Also, there isn’t usually much spoiled food on the ship. Sanji keeps the fridge nice, tidy, and clean.

Why did Luffy come to you, instead of Chopper? He’s distracted, eyes zoning out somewhere and his face wrinkled up. He must not have heard you.

“I said, what did you eat? Luffy!”

“I ate—fuck,” Luffy’s brows furrow and he closes his eyes in anguish. “Ate Sanji’s cookies.”

“You did what? Sanji’s cookies? The ones with the huge note that says ‘do not eat’ on the tin?”

Luffy lets out another wail of pain and shifts in his seat. His fingers squeeze his crotch again. He’s hard, rubbing his massive erection, sliding his fingers over it, squeezing it and playing with himself.

“Luffy, what are you doing?!” You’re incredulous when you realize he’s touching himself. You’ve never seen anything like this before. He’s your captain, for fuck’s sake. What was he doing touching himself in your room, with a raging fever and chattering teeth?

Putting the pieces together, you remember that Sanji had devilish smirk as he brought his special souvenir onto the ship. It was a pretty box, made of metal, covered in some sort of light blue paint, filigreed with gold accents and illustrations of pretty pink ribbons. The chef put an obnoxious “DO NOT EAT SANJI’S COOKIES” sign on the box and slid them to the top shelf of the pantry, almost out of reach. It was, admittedly, extremely naïve of Sanji to expect Luffy to pay any heed to that sign.

You put two and two together. The cookies must have had something in them.

As a response to your indignance, Luffy squeezes his erection harder and gasps quietly. Sweat drips from his temples and down his cheeks. His mouth hangs open, and his pupils are huge. He’s a fucking mess, and you have no clue what to do in this situation.

“’m so cold,” he whines and shakes. “Too c-c-cold.”

This is wildly inappropriate, but… you are kind of turned on, just because he’s touching himself. You have some sort of repressed crush on your captain—how could you not? You usually push it to the back of your mind, though. Pining over him is a waste of time when nothing would ever come of it.

“Fuck,” Luffy’s voice is gravelly and his hand moves of its own accord. “Feels like it’s helping. Feels warm.”

Your heart does a flip. Luffy is palming his cock in front of you, panting with arousal, head thrown back. He can’t help but touch himself. It’s the only thing that’s relieving his discomfort, evidently. You feel awkward, but it’s almost starting to get you going. You’re blushing up your neck and frozen still.

Luffy’s eyes wander to your chest—he’s staring at your breasts, drinking in the shape of them and the outline of your nipples though your shirt. You start to turn red, matching his color rapidly.

“Luffy, what the fuck? Stop! You’re a wreck.” You divert the awkwardness for a second. “No wonder the sign says do not eat! I’m going to get Chopper. You need to rest. Go do that in your room.”

Luffy grinds his palm down his erection and a stifled sound of pleasure gets caught in his throat. You pause, against your better judgment. That sound—the sound of Luffy in pleasure—makes you feel some sort of way. You start to warm up between the legs.

“I want you to do it.” Luffy’s voice gets lower each time he talks. He’s still shaking, freezing, sweating, and unwell. But he’s touching himself, and you had imagined this before. It’s hard to look away.

“What?” You respond reflexively, caught completely off guard. Did you hear him right?

“Want you to touch me,” he whines and continues to rub himself. The friction feels electric. “I think it’ll h-help.”

Luffy’s eyes are half open and glossy, still riveted on your tits. His pupils are really dilated. His fingers grasp and stroke his hard cock through his shorts, and each sound that leaves his mouth goes straight between your thighs.

“You want me to touch you? Are you… Are you sure, Luffy?”

“Need it,” he scrunches his face up. “’m going crazy.”

You bite your lip and pause for a second. If your captain was asking you for help, you might as well assist him… Also, this didn’t feel like that crazy of a request for help, considering the fact that he’d literally die for you (and has gotten close to that on multiple occasions). And you could tell he wasn’t being malicious or predatory about his request—he was just being Luffy, asking plainly for something. If you said no, he would be fine. He may whine a bit, but he’d never genuinely pressure you to do something you were uncomfortable with.

But fuck, was he in his right mind? You shake your head. You want to touch him. But you are genuinely worried about him. It must be 2:00AM, so you need to wake up Chopper. You might want to touch Luffy, but you have to do your due diligence. You care about Luffy. If he’s sick or in danger, you have to make sure he’s okay.

“Luffy, no. I’m going to get Chopper. Just wait here.”

You speed-walk down the hallway, heart racing. What a bizarre turn of events. You didn’t expect that to happen when Luffy initially walked in your room. When you reach the door to Chopper’s cabin, you knock.

No answer. He’s obviously asleep.

You knock again. “Chopper? It’s me. Please get up. Luffy’s sick.”

Another knock. Rustling blankets. You can hear Chopper hobble to the door. He opens it and pokes his little head out, squinting. He’s wearing one of those sleeping gowns and a cute hat. “Mhm? What’s wrong with him?”

“Uh... He has a fever. He’s burning up and he’s shaking. He’s sweating a lot, too.” You figured you’d save the ‘and he’s masturbating’ part for later. Maybe you didn’t have to say it at all?

“Does he have food poisoning? Did he eat anything out of the ordinary?”

“Well, I don’t think he has food poisoning... But he ate some of Sanji’s cookies.”

“What’s in the cookies?” Chopper is shading his eyes from the dim hallway light. He’s half asleep and you feel bad for waking him up.

“I-I don’t know. Maybe there was something weird in them?”

Chopper yawns. Fuck. He looks like he’s falling asleep again. You can’t blame him, really, it’s way past his bedtime.

“Chopper, can you please come look at him?”

He yawns again. “I’m sleepy. Can you ask Sanji what’s in the cookies and get back to me? I just want to go to bed a little bit longer.”

You huff and frown as Chopper shuts his door. So now you were supposed to play telephone? If it was anyone else you would have chewed them out, but you couldn’t do that to Chopper.

Extremely aggravated, you storm down the hallway to Sanji’s cabin and knock on the door, loudly. It’s an angry knock. A fuck-you knock.

“Sanji. Get up.” Silence for a moment while the blonde jolts awake. “I said get up.”

His door opens just a tad until he realizes it’s you. Then he opens it wider. His hair is all rustled up and he’s shirtless, in boxers. If he wasn’t half-asleep, he’d be blushing and acting ridiculous because you’re seeing him half-naked.

��Oh, hello beautiful.” His voice is scratchy and he’s blinking. “How may I help you? Are you finally going to crawl into bed with me?” He flashes a cheeky grin and you almost slap him.

“No, Sanji. Luffy ate your cookies. He’s a mess.”

The cook’s half-asleep composure immediately drops. “He did what?”

You can tell he’s fully awake now.

“I said, he ate your fucking cookies, Sanji. What is in those things!?”

“FUCK. How many did he eat?”

“How many? How should I know?! He’s in my room with a fever right now. It’s Luffy, we can assume he probably ate the whole box.”

Sanji smirks and laughs out loud. “Well, there’s only one way to fix that. Good night, princess.” He winks and shuts the door in your face.

“Sanji, what the fuck!?”

You knock on his door again, but you can hear him get back in bed. You’re beyond pissed. You’re ready to kick the door down and wring his neck. But… you have a sinking feeling that you know what the cook is getting at. Fuck. The cookies have some sort of aphrodisiac in them.

You trudge back to your room, flabbergasted and defeated. Luffy is still in your chair, letting out wails of “pain” which you are now realizing are just fucking moans. Not to say that he isn’t in pain but… if the placement of his hand is any evidence right now, he’s feeling pretty good.

“Y-you’re back,” Luffy gasps as he grinds his palm on his erection for what is probably the 50th time.

“Fuck, Luffy. What did you get yourself into tonight? You can be such a bonehead. Goddamn.” Your hands are on your hips and you’re looking at him, weighing your options. You could kick him back to his room and tell him to masturbate.

He looks downright pathetic. His face is twisted up in agony and his hand is putting in work. “T-touch me,” he whines. “P-please.”

“Luffy, are you sure?” You walk over to him and place a hand on his cheek in pity.

He opens his eyes and weakly croaks out, “Not there. Lower.”

You tut and frown. “Ohhh Luffy. What am I going to do with you?”

He tries to give you puppy dog eyes and fails. Another erotic sound escapes his lips as his palm grinds on his cock particularly hard. He whispers, one last beg before he’ll do all the work himself. “Please.”

You cautiously reach your hand down and place it on his erection. Luffy throws his head back, hissing in air through his teeth, and fidgets under you.

“Fuck, that feels weird. Feels tingly, like—like it’s on fire,” he whines.

He grasps your wrist and makes you rub his cock harder, widening his thighs. His grip is so tight that it hurts. He’s forcing your palm down on his cock so hard that you can’t believe it isn’t hurting him.

Luffy’s eyes are closed and he’s actually drooling. He’s still shivering, and his cheeks are crimson. Sweat plasters his hair down on his forehead and temples.

The obscene sounds leaving his lips make you hotter between your legs—you squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to mitigate the rising heat, but Luffy’s desperation is making it worse. He’s starting to rut his cock up into your hand.

“Ah, that feels—feels so hot and—fuck—feels funny, like it, it feels good.” You can feel his cock twitching under your fingers. He’s writhing around and whimpering, and fuck, he looks good. “Need more.”

“Y-you need more?” You ask hesitantly.

“C’mere.” Luffy grabs you by your waist and effortlessly lifts you up, guiding you to straddle his lap. You freeze up. There’s no way this is really happening.

“Mmmmmm, fuck.” He murmurs in your ear and his hips buck up, cock craving friction through the layer of his pants and yours.

“W-want you to rub on me,” his voice is wretched and depraved. “Feels good.” When you lock eyes, you can see animalistic desire plainly. You’ve never seen him look like this—it’s like he’s a different person; lust is completely driving his movements. It’s like primal instincts took over the second the aphrodisiac cookies went to his stomach.

Luffy dry humps you and it’s starting to feel good. His hands are gripping your hips and he’s doing all the work, dragging you over his cock, pushing you down on it and making your hips roll while needy noises trickle from his parted lips.

As friction builds on your clit, you stifle a moan that threatens to jump out of your mouth. Luffy’s so aroused that he’s panting and slobbering down his chin.

It’s like he’s in heat, the way he humps and grinds on you. Seeing him like this is making you wetter. Your panties must be saturated by now—the friction is already making you buzz, and he hasn’t done much other than rub you on his cock a bit.

“It’s helping,” the words fall carelessly from Luffy’s mouth. He has no clue what’s going on. He’s on autopilot right now, lost in lust and barely cognizant. “Wanna be warmer, ‘m still so—so cold.” His teeth are chattering amidst his moans. Considering how hot his cheek was, he must really be freezing.

Luffy’s hands wander to grip your chest through your tank top so hard you let out a yelp. He pulls it down and starts to greedily squeeze and knead your breasts. Your breath hitches when his fingerpads move back and forth on your already stiff and sensitive nipples.

When he leans forward and wraps his lips around one, you let out a gasp. His tongue swirls around your bundle of nerves and he starts to suck on it hungrily. Luffy is making you wet beyond belief—the suction on your nipple is feeling dangerously good. You’re on the verge of losing it, totally giving in to the nagging animalistic voice in your head that’s telling you to fuck him like crazy.

His erection is huge and hard as it grinds on your core. It feels good—no, he feels good. The noises he’s letting out add to the effect. Your core is throbbing and sopping wet.

“L-luffy,” you moan, finally, as he grazes your clit and sucks your nipple particularly hard. He lets out a muffled hum in response, vibrating your nipple. “Luffy, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum.”

He goes faster. He thinks that if he sees your face contort in bliss and hears you moan some more, it’ll fix him. He’s starting to feel better already with each hump. Maybe if he sees you cum, he’ll stop pulsing and his body will stop screaming at him. Maybe if you cum from his dry humps, he’ll be satiated. Maybe his fever will go away.

Luffy can hardly form cognizant, coherent thoughts like this, though. His mind can only focus on two things. First: you. Your pleasure. Your cunt. Your tits. Your smell. He wants to devour you. Second: he’s freezing cold. He needs warmth—twenty blankets, a cup of hot tea, a heating pad, something. He feels like he’s in a vat of ice water.

“Can’t stop,” he chokes his words out with effort, somehow picking up the pace of his cock humping your cunt through your pants. “Need more.”

He grinds your clit just right and it sends you over the edge of orgasm. As you spasm over his clothed cock and soak your panties in ecstasy, he never once lets up the pace. He pushes you back and forth on his erection and doesn’t pay attention to your whimpers from overstimulation.

You collapse forward into him, resting your head in the crook of his neck while he uses his grip on your hips for leverage to rut harder into you.

“Wanna put it in,” Luffy groans and his voice is deeper than usual. “L-lemme put it in. Wanna feel you. Need it. N-need you to—to help me feel better.”

You whisper a hum of affirmation in his ear and he picks you up. Fuck it. He already made you cum. He’s begging for it. You decide to let him ravage you.

Luffy basically throws you on the bed and rips your clothes off. You realize that the door to your cabin is wide open—anyone could walk by and see this. You don’t have the willpower to care right now.

You’re lying on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. Luffy grabs your wrists and holds them over your head with one hand, pinning you down on the bed. His other hand steadies his cock flat on your inflamed, wet folds. He starts to thrust forward a bit, rubbing himself on your cunt, teasing himself before he finally fucks away the ice-cold blood in his veins and stokes that roaring heat his belly.

His cock gliding over your clit feels too good. If he keeps it up, you’ll cum a second time. “Luffy, fuck,” your whimper makes his heart pound. Reality fogs up more and he can’t think straight. He rubs his cock flat on your lips until you’re arching your back, then lines his tip up with your weeping entrance.

When Luffy pushes his cock into your slit slowly, he groans the whole time. “So fuckin’ tight, ‘s like you’re swallowing me whole, fuck. Y-you’re so warm, feels good.”

He’s shaking and shivering still. After a moment of being bottomed out, he starts to fuck you at a measured pace. He’s entranced by the way your tits bounce. He’s still drooling shamelessly, his pupils are blown with lust and he’s sweating. His free hand gropes up for your tits and plays with your nipples. Every time you moan his name, he feels like he’s an animal.

“Nnnnggghhhh, fuck, fuck, you’re—you feel so slippery,” Luffy feverishly grinds his hips into yours, hitting your deep and sensitive spots just right. “Feels weird and hot in my stomach, like s-something’s gonna happen.”

“Luffy, it feels too good,” you keen his name and squirm. “’m gonna cum soon.”

“W-wanna see,” he chokes out an answer between breathless thrusts.

He brushes your hot and soft spot, and you once again are drowning in pleasure, toe-curling and delicious. You cum, squeezing his shaft and milking out as much precum as possible.

He sounds like he’s hyperventilating. He’s truly going crazy. He keeps fucking you through your orgasm and you start to squirm. The sight goads him on.

“More,” he groans. “Please, more.”

Luffy rocks his pelvis into yours. His abs and arms are muscly and defined, his hair is sweaty, his eyes are totally dilated, and he’s looking at you like he’s going to fuck you for hours.

When he feels your walls clench down on him, he starts to cum. He seizes up and his cock plunges into your cunt. “F-fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—I’m cumming, it—feels too good, feels so good, fuck.”

His thrusts are erratic while he pumps ropes of cum into you. He pauses and looks down at your cock-crazed face, closed eyes, and slack jaw. His cum is currently seeping out of your slit, coating the base of his shaft.

But even though he just came, his cock is already starting to pulse again. That one orgasm? It isn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

He feels better than he did before, but still not back to normal. The fire and ice in his veins still runs strong, he feels like he's buzzing, like he’s an animal looking for a mate.

You think that he’s had his fill until he starts thrusting again, just as hard as before. After a minute, he shifts you. Luffy pulls out and picks you up again, maneuvering you so you’re laying on your bed with your stomach touching the covers. He gets on top of you and—fuck, he’s heavy. And his skin is boiling hot. You can feel the sheen of sweat on his chest when it presses on your back.

He has you in prone bone now, spreading your thighs wide with one of his hands. When he finally presses his cock into you, your back arches. It feels much deeper than before—is he using his devil fruit powers, or is his cock just this big?

“Fuck,” he’s rasping in your ear. His husky voice goes straight to your throbbing core—god, he sounds hot right now. You can feel his hot breath. One of his hands is braced next to your head as his cock rolls into you. He’s hitting the perfect spot and it’s starting to feel so good that you’re seeing stars. “Your pussy—feels so, so warm and good, I think it’s working.”

You lose track of time while his cock caresses your sweet spots. Before you know it, you’re cumming again. You hardly have the energy to let him know what’s happening. Is it the aphrodisiacs making his performance this good, or does Luffy just know how to fuck? How is he this good in bed?

When you squirm and cream on Luffy’s cock for the second time, he reaches a hand under you and thumbs your clit. He draws circles on it and presses it like a button. It feels like an electric shock—he has neglected it until now but still managed to coax three orgasms out of you. And while you are mildly overstimulated, when his fingers start dancing over your clit it turns up the notch of pleasure inside of you.

“Luffy, fuck that feels good,” a sort of guttural moan escapes your lips and you can’t help but buck your hips up and back onto his cock. “Don’t stop. Fuck.”

You’re keening through the waves of pleasure that he’s pulling out from you while he rams you with his cock. His heavy grunts are like music in your ears—feral, low, and ravenous. Your captain is absolutely railing you right now, and you like it. He more than likes it.

“So tight and, ah, so warm inside, like—aaghhhh fuck—like you’re made for me.” He groans and his thighs shudder. Is he cumming again? How many times is this? Second? Third?

Your mind is in a haze. He’s devouring you like a rabid animal. How many orgasms will it take to fend off his fever? How many hours until the aphrodisiac cookies wear off?

In your haze, filth starts to slip out of your mouth.

“F-fuck me harder, captain—please,” you mewl, and you can feel just the slightest pause in Luffy’s thrusts, barely noticeable. “Your cock feels so fucking good.”

After his pause, he starts pressing his weight harder on top of you, moving his hips at an angle so his cock is literally ramming into your cervix. The sensation is overwhelming, to say the least—painful but so, so good. You’re gasping for air and it’s hard to breathe because he’s on top of you. He’s literally fucking you like he’s in heat.

“Say that again,” he grunts and thrusts with each word but he’s struggling to get them out because he’s barely breathing. “Say it.”

“Captain, fuck, y-your cock feels so good. Fuck, captain.”

He’s somehow going faster, bringing you to another cliff, another ledge of euphoria from which to free fall. His cock bullies your bundles of nerves and your cunt squelches with each pass.

“C-captain, Luffy, please, fuck.” You’re spasming under him again, cumming on his cock for, what was that, the fourth time? Maybe it was the fifth. You’ve lost count. You didn’t know it was possible to cum this many times. You’ve also lost track of what words are coming out of your mouth. “Cumming, I’m cumming, y-your cock ‘s too good, captain, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He’s right after you, jerking his hips deep into yours and cumming inside again. There’s so much cum leaking out of you that Luffy’s shaft is obscured by milky white goop. There’s a sizable puddle of it underneath of you. It’s going to leave an unfortunate-colored stain on your bedsheets. You’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.

His hips are still bucking though. His cum just keeps… coming. It’s a visceral orgasm. It’s the final orgasm (for a brief refractory period). When he’s done shooting seed into you, he collapses on top of you.

It’s like you’re under a weighted blanket except its Luffy, he’s heavy as fuck, and his cock is in you. And damn, he’s sweaty.

But somehow this is the best sex you’ve ever had. And you have a sneaking suspicion that the night isn’t over yet.

When you protest and Luffy rolls off your back, you use all your strength to open your eyes and check on him. His chest rises and falls at a rapid pace, his eyes are closed, he’s still drooling but he looks decidedly better.

You bring a hand to touch his forehead again and he lets out another quiet whimper. He must be so sensitive still. Poor thing. But his fever is considerably better.

Sanji must have been right when he said there’s only one way to fix this aphrodisiac frenzy. You wonder what Sanji was saving those cookies for. The day you finally crawled into bed with him?

Pfffft. No, thank you. After round six or seven with Luffy, you’ll never look back. You truly didn’t expect your captain to fuck like this. Or to like being called captain when his cock is in you.

“Luffy, are you doing ok?”

He hums in response.

“Use your words. Luffy, are you doing okay?”

“Yeah. Feels a lot better.”

When his chest slows, he starts to sleep. You’re left on your bed with a puddle of cum under (and inside) of you, and your captain sound asleep like a rock next to you. And fuck, the door is still open.

Hopefully no one heard that. Even if they had heard, oh well. Too late now to stress over it.

You close the door and turn off the light. Then, you get cleaned up and put your pajamas back on.

Luffy may be sound asleep, but you shove him around so he’s at a decent angle. You fall asleep together on your bed, cuddling, and sticky with sweat (and cum).

Of course, no more than two hours later, Luffy is awake and his cock is throbbing again. He tries to touch himself and make the heat go away but it isn’t working. So… he wakes you up. And that’s how rounds eight, nine, and ten go.

When his fever finally goes away, he’s left with a long-lasting craving that he can only satiate one way: you.

It should go without saying, but the next day you literally cannot walk. You hobble around, trying to play it off like you slept weird or something. Sanji rubs the whole thing in your face.

“How was last night, angel?” His smirk is sly and smug, teasing and suggestive.

“Sanji. Please. Not right now.”

“Do you want me to get more of those cookies sometime? Maybe we can eat them next?” He winks and you blush.

“Fuck off, Sanji.”

The chef chuckles and saunters away. He’s never going to let you live that down.

thank you for reading!!! ive been feeling a certain way about luffy recently. its just his fucking muscles in wano that have me in a chokehold. muscle make brain go brrrrrrrrr.

here's my masterlist and my posting schedule for october!

i'm posting every day from now until halloween!

finally, trick or treat? (tumblr links)

#z’s kinktober #one piece smut #op smut #one piece x reader #op x reader #monkey d luffy smut #monkey d luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x you #luffy smut #luffy x reader #luffy x you #luffy x y/n #luffy x reader smut #monkey d luffy x y/n

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rafescvntyclubgf · 27 days ago

Text

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟: 𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝

𝙷𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚢!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙶𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: dom!rafe, possessive!rafe, softbf!rafe, pet names, swearing, dirty talk, icky “boy talk” at the beginning (not by rafe), protective rafe, boys tease the reader when she's not there, they see a picture of her in lingerie, they start a video of rafe and the reader having sex but rafe takes it from them, ownership kink, kissing, unprotected public p in v, butt plug, praise, cum tasting, wet and messy, squirting, cockwarming

All of my asks got deleted 💕😭 so I'm not sure who requested this, but thank you! After a few drinks at a hockey party, Rafe gets teased about what a good girl you are, but Rafe knows the truth 💋

Masterlist

Reader's POV:

The basement of the hockey house is alive, post-game with a rowdy crowd. Cheap keg beer spills from red SOLO cups, the packed basement wall to wall with a mix of jerseys and ugly sweaters.

Rafe kicks his feet up, relaxing on the oversized couch with the boys, half-watching some hockey game as they shoot the shit. “Damn,” Alex groans, his wicked smirk glowing in the light of his phone. He zooms in on the screen, smiles, and tosses his head back.

“Jesus Christ,” Kemper hums as he looks at the message Alex got, lifting his phone to “snap” a picture of his—just givin’ Alex hell. “Get outta here,” he shoves him away with a laugh.

“She looks better in that jersey than you,” Kemper shoots back.

“No shit,” Alex pulls it up again, adjusting himself a second later. “She stole my jersey yesterday… Sent me that pic as a congratulations, I guess,” he smiles proudly.

“Where’s Max?” Kemper asks, eyes scanning your group before looking over the back of the couch into the crowd.

“Left about five minutes ago with Lexi,” Rafe adds. “He’s gone for the night.”

“Lucky bitch,” Kemper mumbles against the lip of his can before draining his beer.

“You that desperate, Kemp?” Rafe taunts, lifting an eyebrow in his direction, half-hiding his smirk with his drink.

“Fuck you, Cameron,” he clips as he crumples up his can, tossing the empty drink at JJ. “It’s his fuckin’ fault,” he gestures to Maybank, giving him the finger. “He stole her.”

“Stole her my ass. She wanted me. Not my fault either. You're a goalie, man. Maybe you could switch positions and get pussy from time to time-”

“I get pussy!” Kemper cuts JJ off, cracking another beer open.

“Sure you do,” Rafe taunts, just stoking the fire. Attention naturally falls back to him, the boys ramping up to knock him down a peg. He stretches his big arms along the back of the couch, just waiting for the shit-talking to start.

“Yo, Rafe,” Alex calls out, and Rafe snorts out a laugh, rolling his eyes at the predictability.

“Yeah, man. Get on with it,” Rafe chuckles between sips of beer.

“What about your girl? How long has it been… three, four, five months?” Alex slurs.

“Since what, bud?”

“Since what?” He barbs, mocking Rafe like he knows the first thing about you. “Since you got your dick wet. What do you mean, ‘since what’?

The group erupts in laughter, Rafe's lips curling into an amused smile. He doesn't bat an eye— not hurrying to respond, either.

"She's perfect; that's all you need to know," he replies smoothly. He takes off his cap and runs his fingers through his hair before turning it to the back.

"Come on, man," another chimes in, clearly not letting it go. "That’s it… That’s all we’re gettin’? Is it that fuckin’ bad?”

“M’sorry, Rafey,” Kemper chuckles, shooting him a crooked look.

The teasing continues, but Rafe just leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares them down, the picture of calm confidence. “You guys have no clue what you’re talkin’ about,” he speaks, his voice calm and smug.

“Sure we don’t,” Kemper laughs. “You tuck her in after the game or what?”

“She’s around here somewhere,” Rafe smiles, glancing at his phone again before setting it on the counter. He smiles to himself, recalling how you sucked his dick on the car ride home from the game; the man fucking you five inches from your life in the shower when you got back.

As much as you loved the side he showed you when no one was watching—soft and sweet. He loved the side of you that no one else got to see as well… filthy and insatiable, your sex drive giving Rafe a run for his money. Rafe didn't need to defend you—or himself. He knows the truth.

“What are you thinkin’ about, Cameron?” JJ asks, catching Rafe smilin—your boyfriend shrugging before he takes a swig of beer.

“None of your fuckin’ business, Maybank,” Rafe laughs.

The conversation drifts back to the topic of conquests, JJ bragging about the girl he snuck on the bus on the last away game, the two fuckin’ in the backseat all the way home.

Rafe’s phone lights up, buzzing on the coffee table. The screen with your name plastered on the front of it shines like a beacon.

"Uh oh,” Kemper pipes, “lover boy's got a text?”

Rafe unlocks the screen and smiles, spreading a little wider. “What the fuck?” He clips as Alex picks the phone out of his hand.

"Let's see what kind of cute little texts your girl sends, huh?” His voice trails away as he looks at the screen, wide-eyed, his mouth hanging open as he catches you in nothing but black lace.

"What?" The others clamor, pushing towards Alex to get a better look.

”C’mon,” Alex whines as JJ plucks the phone off his hands, taking it for himself.

“Goddamn,” Maybank groans as he zooms in.

“Enough, man. What the fuck,” Rafe scoffs as he reaches for it. JJ quickly slides his finger across Rafe’s screen, skimming through the camera roll to find more.

Before Rafe can grab it, JJ lofts it to the next boy, slightly out of Rafe’s reach. Kemper flicks his fingers as well, his eyes doubling when he finds something new.

"Fuckkk, there's a video!" He responds excitedly, one hand gripping the phone, the other extended, fighting Rafe off as he tries to get the device back.

Your sweet moan rips through the phone’s speakers, sending the boys into a frenzy. Rafe's easygoing expression changes in an instant. His smile remains in place, but a razor-sharp edge of possession colors his movements as he stands up, snatching the phone back before they could play any more than a few seconds.

“You like that?” You breathe—your soft, sultry voice echoing faintly through the device before Rafe locks his phone.

The group falls silent, eating their words, struck dumb and speechless as they see a side of you they didn’t imagine existed.

"Like I said," Rafe drawls as he pops another beer, "you've got no idea what you're talkin’ about."

Before the boys can recover, a voice breaks through the haze. “Hey, baby,” you hum. All eyes shifting to you.

The group turns together, watching you step toward the party; your beautiful eyes lock on Rafe’s. He shifts slightly, extending a hand, quickly pulling you onto his lap with a smile. You drape your arm around his neck, Rafe’s arms dressing around your waist, his eyes matching yours, making your stomach flutter.

"Ready to go, baby?" You ask playfully, your intentions for the rest of the night clear in your tone.

“Always,” Rafe smiles as he wets his lip, leaning in for a kiss.

He doesn't hesitate, following you through the crowded hallway, his hand resting on the small of your back to keep you close. The two of you climb the stairs, ducking under tacky Christmas decorations and weaving around people playing beer games at the kitchen table.

Rafe grabs two Coors, popping open one for you and one for him. He sets it down and grabs you by your waist, lifting you onto the counter, moving between your thighs, tilting closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re perfect, sweetheart. You know that?” He asks, his voice low and sweet.

“So are you, baby.” You lean in, pressing a tender kiss against his lips.

“Would you kill me if I told you they saw that picture you sent me?” He asks.

“Rafey…” You laugh gently against his lips, pecking at them again. “You’re givin’ away all my secrets, baby.”

“M’sorry-”

“ I don’t care,” you smile, gently brushing your lips against his. “Let ‘em know what a slut I am for you…”

“You are, aren’t you, princess?”

“Mhmm,” you hum against his lips before sucking off the bottom, making him groan against your lips.

“… You still wearin’ it, baby?” He drawls.

“You told me to be a good girl and keep it in... What do you think?” You flirt.

“Fuckin’ love you,” he hums.

Rafe wraps his arm around you, lifting you off the counter, pulling you through the packed living room: bodies upon bodies, wall to wall, the air thick with heat and booze—music blares from the speakers, pulsing in your chest.

Rafe crashes down on his favorite chair, the two of you snuggling up in the dark corner. His big hands slide up your thighs immediately, gripping your hips as your lips meet.

“I’m the luckiest man here,” he hums as his hands shift your ass, squeezing tight. One of his hands falls lower before rising again, drifting under your skirt.

Rafe rubs his fingers over your pussy, teasing your entrance over your lace panties, soaking them thoroughly. His rough hands trace up your ass, pressing against the plug, making you whimper against his lips.

“Mmm… Good girl,” he breathes. Rafe draws back enough to meet your gaze, making chills run down your spine. "You got no clue what you do to me,” he hums.

Your fingers scratch into the hair at the nape of his neck. “Maybe you should show me.”

His eyes fall to your lips—his lusty smile spreading, matching your own. Rafe moves closer, burying himself in your neck, kissing higher and higher. His heavy breathing hits your ear, making your pussy throb. “Right here…” Rafe mumbles. “Let me put my cock in, princess.”

“You’re gonna fuck me right here?” You giggle dizzily, making him chuckle as well, pulling you in tighter.

“You gonna let me?”

“You know I will…” You coo.

“Thought so… Fuckin’ though? Maybe that's a little risky, even for us. You're just gonna keep me warm for a while…” He lies.

“That’s it?” You ask teasingly as you slip your hand between the two of you, cupping his stiff bulge, making him moan in your ear.

“What—you want more?” He taunts, giving it right back to you.

“I always want more,” you whisper. You slip out of his lap, turning around, facing the crowd, the lot lost in their own worlds. Rafe grabs your chin and turns your face, claiming your lips as he adjusts, pulling his pants down enough to release his aching cock.

His thick dick slaps against his shirt. You reach behind your back, wrapping your hand around him, stroking slowly. Rafe throws his head back on the chair, letting you work him in your fist, thumb skimming over his fat tip. You look over your shoulder, meeting his gaze as you put it between your plump lips, sucking it clean.

Rafe lifts your skirt slightly, pushing your panties to the side. You rise slightly as Rafe seizes his dick in his big hand, swirling around your soaked hole. You claw at the armrests, listening to Rafe hiss out a breath as you sink on his long cock inch by inch.

“Shit,” you whimper as you release your hands, fully sat, adjusting your skirt, feeling Rafe throb inside you.

He moves closer, wrapping strong his arms around your body, tucking himself in your neck. “Pussy’s just made for me, baby,” he breathes, hot against your neck.

You look out into the crowd, but no one is the wiser. Rafe turns your face again, pushing his lips against yours. Your clench around his cock, and he moans against your lips. His hands shift along your body, brushing over your tits, moving down your stomach, slipping just under your shirt.

He presses down on your stomach, making your thigh draw in. “M’so fuckin’ deep,” he whispers as he pushes again, making you gasp against his lips as he feels his own cock.

Rafe’s other hand moves lower, his two long fingers finding your clit over your clothes. Your eyes scan the crowd; the two of you are still in the clear as Rafe starts spiraling his fingers on your sex.

You know you should stay still, not wanting to give yourselves away, but you can help but circle your hips ever so slightly, grinding your wet cunt on Rafe’s lap with his cock buried so deep.

Rafe grabs your hips, his biceps, and forearms, flexing as he pulls you down as hard as he can, making your nails drive into his skin to keep from crying out as he splits you apart. Your head falls forward from the pressure between your thighs.

Your wetness drools from your tight hole, wetting the place between the two of you, making you both a sticky mess. He lifts your hips slightly, fucking up into your slick center, making your eyes roll back.

Rafe belts his arms around your waist, pulling you into him again as you feel your pleasure about to erupt; pussy tightening around him.

“Me too, baby. Me too,” he pants. “Do that thing you were doin’, huh? Grind f’me. Make a fuckin’ mess,” he mumbles. You roll your hips into him, panting against his lips, not caring who sees at this point, more concerned with your pleasure and his.

Your movements start to get sloppy as you lose control. Rafe grabs your hips, coaxing you to the edge. You gush around his cock, creaming and cumming with him, swallowing each other's moans between deep kisses.

The two of you breathe rapidly against each other's lips, little whimpers falling from yours in sensitivity as you feel his pulsing cock move deep in your guts, his cum and the plug making you feel incredibly full.

Rafe pulls you back on his chest, the two of you exchanging sweet kisses as you come down from your bliss. You giggle against his lips, and he smiles against yours at what the two of you just did. You’re shameless display of affection doing nothing but bringing you closer.

He helps you off his cock, buttoning up his pants before guiding you to stand. Before you can step away, he binds his arm around you, pulling you in, lips finding your neck. A sharp gasp and a throaty moan leave your mouth as you feel a loss.

“Why don’t we say goodnight to the boys and head to bed, yeah?” He asks as he tucks the butt plug in his back pocket. You feel the sensation of his warm cum slipping out of your puffy hole and your ass, dripping down your inner thigh. “I wanna be leakin’ out of you when we do, princess.”

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caelivir · 8 months ago

Text

shrimply in love | miya atsumu

synopsis. atsumu wholeheartedly prayed that you forgot how you first met, and for a while he believed that you did. that is until he finds the literal token from that day.

pairing. atsumu miya x gn!reader | wc. 2.1k | genres. timeskip!atsumu, established relationship, tooth rotting fluff, atsumu is soooo down bad | warnings. (minor?) manga spoilers

notes. outing myself as a hq fan and atsumu lover LOOK AWAY. this was inspired by a tiktok i saw LMFAO 😭. i was up until dawn, on my phone, in the drafts writing this that’s how bad it was. there's something additional to this so stay tuned, and i hope you enjoy.

“tsumu!” you call out from the couch while he’s in the bathroom connected to your shared room. “can you get my wallet? it’s on the bed.”

“sure thing, baby!” he answers back.

“thanks love!” you reply, the petname making him grin in the mirror. it gets him every single time.

after drying off his hands with a towel, atsumu doubles back to the bedroom, your wallet immediately catching his eye. he picks it up, and as he does, something slips out from the crevices.

atsumu picks it up and inspects it. it’s a folded slip of paper. curious, he unfolds it to examine its contents. reading it puts him in shock, and now he’s mildly annoyed with you.

he rushes out of the room, stomping over to you like a little kid. you raise an eyebrow in amusement when he stops in front of the couch.

“baby, what the hell?!” he whines, holding the paper out in front of you for you to read. confused, you lean closer, letting your eyes scan it before laughing out loud. it’s a guest check from the day you first met.

“what?! it’s cute!” you defend with a smile.

“it’s horrifying. do you even know how embarrassing this was for me?” atsumu pouts.

“oh believe me i know.” you giggle.

three years ago.

after a hard won victory, the msby jackals were craving a celebratory meal. meian had suggested a new italian restaurant that had opened by the arena. there was a unanimous agreement among the team, except for sakusa. however, bokuto had managed to convince him to come along with enough pestering.

so there they were, a group of guys well over six foot (with the exception of hinata and inunaki), sharing what’s probably the largest table at the restaurant. it drew tons of attention, and there were even some fans who came up to them for pictures and autographs.

then you came by, ready to take orders, and atsumu knew in that moment he was an absolute goner for you. your beauty was unlike anything he’s ever seen before. you were prettier than those models on the ads he walked by, prettier than the flowers in his mother’s gardens, prettier than sunsets on a beach. and god, your smile. his head went all fuzzy at the sight of it. it melted his insides.

you chuckled at whatever bokuto animatedly said before moving onto atsumu. you looked at him expectantly, eyes shining with so much light that it jumbled the blonde’s brain. shit. what did he want to order?

atsumu’s eyes quickly racked through the menu, and his mouth fired off an order before his brain could process what he was reading. “uh, could i get the shrimps camping?”

a silence befell amongst the table before a collective cackle filled the restaurant. realizing what slipped out of his mouth, atsumu’s face turned red. his cheeks were embarrassingly hot.

mortified. he was absolutely fucking mortified. even that asshole omi-kun found it funny. it didn’t help that you were suppressing a smile at him too. he didn’t even bother with the damage control. there was no point. he’d only embarrass himself further.

with a giggle, you made a note of it on the guest check you were writing up because at least you knew what he was referring to. atsumu buried his face in his hands. see in his head, the setter had come up with a plan to ask for your number, but now he was never even going to walk down this street ever again. his chances? consider them blown.

“alright, alright,” you said after the laughter had died down. you fire off orders to confirm everything, and then you get to atsumu. “and… one shrimps camping.”

“you’re killing me.” atsumu groaned, feeling a new wave of embarrassment now that you were teasing him.

“it’s my job.” you shrugged before walking off with a wink. the blonde felt his heart skip a beat.

“don’t sweat it, atsumu-san!” shoyo clapped his back reassuringly. at least he could leave it to the ginger to always have his back.

it took a minute, but the team had finally moved on from atsumu’s slip up. unfortunately, it was all the setter could think about. god, what if you teased him once you came back with the plates?

luckily for him, it didn’t happen. you just tossed him a knowing grin when you presented him his food. he stared down at those shrimp dancing in the sauce, knowing he’s never ordering fuckass shrimp scampi ever again, and dug in. (it’s the most delicious thing to have graced his tastebuds.)

atsumu, contrary to previous thoughts, did end up coming back to the italian restaurant in the hopes that he could see you. he realized that he wasn’t going to allow one fuck up ruin the chances of having you. atsumu miya is many things. annoying, rude, loud, but a quitter? that’s not one of them.

it was a weekly occurrence, and atsumu would try something different from the menu each time.

“no shrimp scampi?” you would smirk.

“no…” atsumu would sigh, feeling the jab in his bones before handing you his menu. “no shrimp scampi.”

conversations became more casual. he learned more about you like how you were in your final year of university and that your favorite men’s volleyball team was ejp raijin. (he was definitely going to change that.) each week the blonde setter visited you during week made him fall for you even more. all of these little things accumulated until atsumu finally got the balls to ask you out.

“what would you like today, atsumu?” you greeted, that soft angelic grin on your face, and he just knew he had to do it. he couldn’t ever let you go.

“you. me. a date.” he said casually, his eyes dripping with confidence. (interally, he was freaking out).

you tried maintaining your composure but failed so miserably. you couldn’t stop the smile that reached your eyes as soon as you heard those eyes. “i thought you would never ask.” you beamed at him.

chewing on your lower lip, you motioned for him to give you hand, to which he most happily obliged. your touch was a new heaven. so warm and so soft. he wished to be wrapped in it forever.

you held his hand steady as the tip of your pen scribbled on his skin. when atsumu looked down, he realized it to be your number, and his eyes stared at it in awe.

“text me.” you told him before walking off. then you stopped in your tracks, turning yourself back around until you’re back at atsumu’s table. “wait, shit. what do you want to eat?”

oh. he had completely forgotten about that. atsumu picked up the menu and quickly scanned for a fun dish name. “um, just the pizza napoletana and garlic bread.”

“you got it.” you noted it down. followed by, “no shrimp scampi?”

“(y/n), please. i feel like i’m flying right now, and you’re killing my mood.” atsumu’s face fell, feigning fake irritation, but you knew better.

you laughed. “alright, alright. i’ll be back soon.”

“you better be.” the setter scoffed before his face betrayed his true feelings.

and before you knew it, one date became two, then three, then four, and the rest was history, shrimp scampi along with it.

at least, that’s what atsumu thought.

“i thought you completely forgot about it.” atsumu whines.

you laugh, standing up from your place on the couch. “how could i ever forget that? i stopped the jokes because you got all sulky. besides, that’s how my little infatuation with you began.”

once you’re directly in front of him, atsumu places his hands on your waist, burying his head in the crook of your neck. without even thinking, your hand finds its way to the back of his head, stroking it with affection. “of all things? not my good looks? or my nice arms? ” the blonde murmurs into your skin.

you hum in agreement. “well that came after.” your boyfriend groans, making you roll your eyes.

“i don’t think i ever told you this, but i was having a really rough shift the night the team came in. when you guys were put into my section, i nearly lost it.” you admit. “but then you asked for shrimps camping, and i lightened up, like all of my negative energy just drained out of my body. seeing you all flustered and blushing was so adorable in my eyes.”

your boyfriend pulls back, his face scrunched. “i didn’t realize you were in a foul mood that night.”

“had to fake it. you know how customer service is.” you shrug, a smirk taking over your face soon after. “but you were too busy admiring me to even notice it.”

atsumu grins smugly. he’s not even ashamed. “that i was.”

you roll your eyes. “you’re hopeless.”

the blonde setter hums, leaning in, and you meet him halfway, kissing him gently. atsumu’s arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you closer to him until you’re pressed against his body. you feel his lips twitch into a smile.

you’re the first to pull away, but your boyfriend is unsatisfied with that. he presses his lips to yours once again before you could even get another breath in. it’s a kiss full of affirmations that atsumu can’t voice. you feel it all through him. he’s so greedy when it comes to you, but he’d definitely agree with that statement without any complaint.

to atsumu, kissing you is a new kind of euphoria, one better than any service ace, better than any cool quick that he pulls off with his hitters. kissing you is like falling in love with you again, and it’s single-handedly the best feeling in the entire world.

he pulls away first with a proud smile. he steals a quick peck against your lips, then your nose, and then the rest of your face until you’re drowning in his affection.

you giggle, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “tsumu!”

atsumu sighs contentedly. his large hand cups your cheek. the rough skin of his thumb traces up and down your face. it’s so reassuring and so warm that you can’t help but lean into it.

“i love you, angel. y’know that right?” atsumu stares at you, adoration swimming in his eyes. everyday, he can’t believe that he gets to have you. he can’t believe he gets to come home and you’ll be there waiting for him, ready to hold him in your arms and kiss his knuckles when he tells you about his day.

you adjust your head ever so slightly to kiss his palm. “i know it. you never fail to make it known.”

you’ve come to realize that that’s who he is. your sweet boy, atsumu miya, is so full of love. behind the brashness and the insults, he has so much love in his heart that some days he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“i love you so much, atsumu miya. you are my life.” you whisper, bringing him in for another soul-igniting, cavity-inducing kiss. it’s intense, hotter, but that is just life with atsumu, a blaze of passion and fierceness.

you can feel him melt against you as if this is his first time doing this with you. you can feel him reciprocating your words. you know him so well that you can guess the words that follow. “all for me. my sweet angel. what did i do to deserve you?”

a memory springs to mind, causing you to cut the moment short as much as you’d like to continue. atsumu pouts at the loss of your lips against his. such a kid. still, he looks at you expectantly.

“i have to admit,” you’re kind of excited to see how he’ll react to it. “the entire restaurant knows you as the shrimps camping guy.”

atsumu stiffens against your body, and the horrified look on his face makes you burst out laughing. “you’re lying. (y/n), tell me you’re lying.”

“i’m sorry, my love. it’s true.” you reach out for his hand, but the blonde playfully shrugs it off.

“don’t touch me. how could you do this to me, huh? i thought we were for life!” atsumu turns away from you, shutting his eyes.

you roll your eyes. you should’ve expected this. in situations like these, there is one sentence that will make him forget everything immediately. “if i kiss you, will you forgive me?”

atsumu snaps his head back to you, and his eyes fly open, allowing you to catch the light that sparkles in them as he smiles widely. he’s so beautiful. “really?!” he exclaims but leaves no room for you to respond before he’s crashing your mouths together for the fourth time. you roll your eyes in disbelief but give into him immediately.

atsumu miya is so annoying, but he’s yours, and you wouldn’t give him up for anyone else in the world.

#anime #manga #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #hq #hq x reader #fluff #hq fluff #atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #⭑ — fics ⭑.ᐟ♡#♡ — hq #♡ — tsumu

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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year ago

Text

Watchful Eyes

CEO!SteveRogers x Female!Maid!Reader AU

read Bucky's story here

summary: When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself.

a/n: So that just happened... I don't know where it came from, but please enjoy. (Please don’t be discouraged by the word count - I promise you it’s worth it and I kindly ask you to at least try 💛)

word count: 10.8k

warnings: power differences, Steve is pining, watching someone over secret livestream (is this stalking?), women being referred to as objects (not by Steve), just so much fluff, and also angst (there is a happy ending!), smut (masturbation - m, praise kink, oral - f receiving, dirty talk, orgasm control, overstimulation, unprotected p in v, size kink, breeding kink) !MINORS DNI!

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

“Can you start Monday?”

“I can start Monday.”

“Perfect.”

Holy fuckidy fuck fuck.

You had a job. A job that would crinkle some noses but it would pay money. Good money actually. Well, better than other offers in the branch.

It had been luck, really. Because during one drunken night, which had originally been dedicated to drowning yourself in self-pity over the last job that had let you go due to staff cuts, your friend Natasha had crashed your party with Chinese food and gossip from her workplace. She was an assistant for one of the CEO’s of Shield Protection Services. And during her lunch with Sharon, the other assistant, Sharon had complained about Steve Rogers and how he had fired the third maid this month because they, apparently, were taking pictures of his home or selling some of his things.

There might have been some talk about how picky and stuck up he could be but the important info was that Sharon was desperate at this point and had asked Nat if she knew anyone with the decency not to breach privacy and willingness to clean the CEO’s home.

The good thing - or bad thing, you weren’t sure - was, Nat knew you were desperate too. So she gave Sharon your number and before you knew it, you were an employed woman again.

❁ ❁ ❁

It was too early for you to be roaming the streets of New York, but you had gotten instructions and so you had gotten up at 6 and headed out to the address. And when you arrived, it felt as though it was the first time you blinked since the subway - you were that tired. Definitely not a morning person.

The building was huge, tall glass fronts stretching into the sky and the ride up to the penthouse took longer than your average elevator rides did.

The doors opened and revealed a beautiful open floor plan. A whole wall of windows brought natural light into the place and offered a view so breathtaking, it took you a moment to collect yourself. The place was ginormous - a lot to clean up - but seemed tidy enough to at least get started right away.

You placed your bag on the counter by the kitchen and took more of the place in when suddenly, a voice startled you.

“Who are you?” You whipped around, big eyes searching for the source until they landed on a tall man standing in what seemed to be a dining area - well, one of them at least. He had broad shoulders, neatly styled hair and one of those toothpaste smiles you only ever saw in magazines. He was wearing office attire, blue dress pants that slightly stretched over his muscled thighs, and when your head wandered back up his body, piercing blue eyes seemed to stare right into your soul.

Holy Shit.

Before you stood Steve Rogers, three-time Forbes Magazine cover story, young entrepreneur turned filthy-rich hunk of a man, and CEO of the most successful security firm in this country. And he was talking to you - staring at you... waiting for an answer.

Talking, you needed to start talking, you reminded yourself.

“I’m the new maid, sir. I’m so sorry I was told to come here at 7 as you leave for work before that.”

Mr. Rogers looked at you with an unintelligible stare. Meanwhile, you were nervously wringing your hands in the doorway, looking down. You hadn’t planned for anyone important to see you today. The worn-down Fleetwood Mac shirt you didn’t mind getting bleach on hanging over some pants you pulled from the back of your closet definitely wasn’t the kind of outfit you expected to greet Steve Rogers in. Great start. This was going awful.

“Well I’m here aren’t I?” His arms folded before his chest as his eyebrow raised, impressive biceps bulging beneath the white button-up, and - damn - it was hard not to stare.

“Right. Yes. Sorry. I’ll come back later.” You turned to leave again but he stopped you.

“No need. I am on my way out.” The left corner of his mouth twitched into a cheeky grin when he grabbed his bag, left the newspaper discarded on the table, and placed his coffee mug in the sink. Interesting.

“Don’t snoop.” He whispered teasingly as he passed you, a whiff of expensive cologne paralyzing your senses and you weren’t sure if he was making a suggestion or actually warning you. That damn perfume seemed to hypnotize you.

Your eyes followed his broad shoulders until they disappeared behind the corner and then the elevator doors shut. It seemed to take all the tension from your face. You exhaled long and then began to look around some more.

The place was huge, you’d already established that. But when you found the third bedroom amongst the private office and Pool table room, you knew you had to make a weekly plan to work off. You had to give Mr. Rogers credit, though. There was rarely any clutter lying around - it wasn’t dirty per se - just had the usual dust you’d expect in a place this size with only one person living in it.

You huffed, resting your hand on your hips once you completed the tour. And then you got started.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve peered up from his computer screen when Bucky strolled through the doors of his office. A coffee in hand he had most likely tweaked from his assistant's desk on the way here, he shot a grin to his oldest friend and business partner.

“What ya doing, punk?” The brunette asked teasingly when he circled the desk and settled on the window sill behind Steve.

“Just making sure things stay in order.” He leaned back and turned around slightly, just in time to see his friend nod knowingly.

“Heard Nat got you a new maid.” Bucky dipped his chin towards the laptop still open on the desk. “That her?”

His eyes wandered to the screen where a live feed of his apartment streamed you changing his bedsheets. He hummed in agreement.

“She’s pretty,” Bucky commented before sipping his coffee again and Steve felt an unfamiliar feeling bubble in his stomach. “But I bet you don’t care anyway. You’re all ‘don’t sell my stuff’ and ‘having things stolen from a security firm CEO is embarrassing’. Wouldn’t know a pretty thing like that if it climbed you.”

“Because it is embarrassing. And I highly recommend you monitor your staff to make sure they don’t do the same.” Of course, Steve knew you were ‘pretty’. Exactly his type, to be honest. He had noticed it the second you stepped into his apartment this morning. The way your hands wrung beneath you. And he had shot you a teasing remark in hopes of discovering a sassy fire in those timid doe eyes of yours. But you had stumbled over your words like a fawn.

Bucky clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Nonsense. Peggy is great - and too old to even carry anything valuable out of my place. I trust her with my life and house keys.” And then he pushed off the sill. “I think it’s time for you to get laid again. And that’s why I’m a great friend and organized dinner and drinks with Tony and Sam tonight.”

Steve fell back in his chair, hands over his eyes. “I don’t need your wing-maning me. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious, Buck.”

“You can thank me later.” He stout towards the door. “You know... after you’ve been devoured by the pretty little waitress at the Ironbar.” Bucky winked before his face disappeared again.

Steve just huffed as his eyes landed back on the weekly report on his desk and then swayed back to his computer screen.

As unwilling as he was to admit it, it had been some time since his last late-night rendezvous. And as he saw you crawl up on his bed to place the bedsheets properly along his mattress, he felt his pants tighten slightly.

❁ ❁ ❁

“We’ll get one more round of the good stuff.”

“Of course Mr. Stark.” Tony winked and patted his waitress’s butt before she stalked away on her high heels and towards the locked glass cabinet behind the bar.

Steve had designed it himself, a fiberglass shrine-like display for ridiculously expensive liquors, only to be opened by a passcode that got regenerated every week. He watched as Betty - the young and lanky waitress - retrieved a crystal bottle of whiskey and filled four glasses with the golden liquid.

“God, I love that thing,” Tony sighed next to Steve and watched Betty with a satisfied smile.

“You better be talking about that cabinet, Stark.” Steve shook his head with a frown only to receive a wink from Tony, who was sitting closest to him at the round table.

“So...” Bucky leaned over to Steve and spoke in a hushed voice. “You see anything you like?” He gestured at the bar where Tony’s carefully picked waitresses passed with filled and emptied glasses and bottles. They were all wearing tight black t-shirts and skirts or shorts that counted just as scandalous. One could foolishly mistake this place for a Hooters if Tony hadn’t made it one of the most pristine bars in all of New York City.

It was popular amongst the clientele which mainly consisted of bored rich men that came here to get something to look at without being judged for it. But Steve wasn’t feeling the girls today. When Betty shoved her breasts in his field of view, all he could think about was how he had never gotten the idea to get his maids a uniform that catered to his... liking. And when Betty swayed her hips on her way to the bar, his thoughts became clouded by the image of you in a short little skirt, riding up just a little to tease I’m about what was hidden underneath when you kneeled on his bed to get the sheets sorted.

Steve adjusted his pants at the little flashback, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Oh, apparently you have...” Bucky grinned before his eyes hushed down to Steve’s crotch and back up just as fast. “Well then,” he leaned back with a satisfied grin. “Which one is it? Samatha? Tiffany? Though I think Megan is more your type.”

“Just shut up, punk.”

“Okay you don’t have to tell me me... either way, my job here is done.” He brushed his hands off fake dust and smiled smugly. “You better be in a good mood tomorrow.”

Steve just huffed and waited for Betty to come back with ‘the good stuff’ to hopefully drown out his annoying friends for the rest of the night. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them. No, he would do anything for the people he chose to have in his life. The group he found himself in right now had been through thick and thin with him, stayed through his fame and fortune, and was just as supportive before it had all happened to either of them. He was happy having the guys because they built each other up and aimed for greatness - together, they were fucking invincible.

But sometimes, Steve felt a little out of place amongst Bucky and Tony. It was in situations regarding women most of all because he could never adapt the attitude to talk about them the way they did. And he never had the headspace to juggle as many as they did. He had tried the one-night stands. But he struggled to navigate the superficial pleasure maze New York City provided in masses. Because just as the ever-passing smiles on the streets, it wasn’t fulfilling enough for Steve. At least not in the way it was for his friends.

He wanted what Sam had. A partner, a family, something constant and beautiful. And that was, why he found himself asking for pictures of Sam’s kids and nephews rather than listen to Tony’s latest bed bunny endeavor whenever the conversations took a turn in that direction.

“Earth to Rogers,” Sam’s finger snapped in front of Steve’s face. “What this I’m hearing? You got a new maid? What happened to the old one?”

“She sold his stuff on Craigslist.” Bucky snorted and took a sip of the drink that had magically appeared in front of them.

“You aren’t serious.”

“I really liked that tie,” Steve grumbled into his cup.

“Man, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with things like that. You rich people really are a different breed.”

“You’re rich, too, Sam.”

Sam just smiled above his crystal glass, having fun with the little joke he liked to pull for ages now. He wasn’t any less successful than any of the other men at their table. But other than them, he had settled in a beautiful neighborhood - despising the concrete jungle each of the other guys lived in. His house felt like home, like a cozy place that had seen love and time and nothing like the polished and sleek man caves the rest of them owned.

“Well, anyways, my amazing assistant organized him a new one, the prettiest thing - really. But he’s refusing to see it.”

Tony chuckled. “Well, that's Rogers in a nutshell, isn’t it.”

Sam just pursed his lips and glanced over at Steve with a soft smile, ignoring the comments of the other guys. They never explicitly talked about it, but Sam was a smart man, and it would have surprised Steve, had he not already figured out that he was more of a family man than their friends were as of right now.

“To new maids that aren’t selling your clothes on the internet then.” He raised his drink and winked at Steve once their glasses clinked.

And Steve? He visibly exhaled, silently thanking Sam for pulling the tension out of their conversation.

❁ ❁ ❁

It had been a little over a week. And so far, things had been going great.

By now, you had cleaned through the entire place once and set up a plan of what to do on which day. You weren’t surprised it actually took a full 6 days to cover every single room in Mr. Rogers’s apartment. You had already figured out which tasks were going to be your favorite and which weren’t. Like his bedroom. You liked doing that. Because even though the sheets were a bitch to get on the ginormous bed, you kind of liked the smell the room had. His pillows smelled of the cologne you couldn’t forget ever since the man had brushed past you on your very first day.

You were pretty sure you would never forget that since your knees literally felt like giving in at that moment.

Today, it was bedroom day. That and the on-suite.

With a smile on your face, you entered the apartment on the top floor, each day secretly hoping you’d catch a glimpse of the CEO before he took off to work. But even though you tried to arrive ten minutes earlier (you really couldn’t spare any more sleep for your own good), the first day remained an exception in Mr. Rogers’s daily schedule.

You placed your bag on the stool at the open kitchen island, changed into some other shoes, and headed for the supply closet. Despite the size of the place, you actually got around pretty easily. Mr. Rogers was a very organized and neat man - you’d noticed that the first and only time you met him. So things were almost always where you’d think they would be. Which made your job just that much easier. But also prevented you from the advised ‘not snooping’ you desperately wanted to do.

You knew better though.

People like Steve Rogers probably had cameras installed in this place. And you would certainly not go and rummage through his underwear drawer after he had personally told you not to. Who knows what strings powerful people like him could pull. So, for the sake of not waking up on a cargo ship to Madagascar one day, you restrained yourself as much as possible.

Of course, you didn’t stop your eyes from wandering whenever you swept the shelves in his walk-in closet or closed the drawers in his office space. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. And this girl had a nosy best friend on her back that wanted to know every little detail of her new job... and was also way too invested in celebrity gossip.

Though, as always, there was nothing out of the ordinary today - there never was. Sure, it was still exciting to see how the filthy rich lived but other than that, no scandalous collection of women’s underwear, or drug lord papers lying around. You started to believe that Steven Grant Rogers was a very boring man. Not that you could properly judge in your position, seeing as you did not really know him, but the whole being in his home seemed a little too intimate not to do so.

So that day you finished the tasks for the day, packed your stuff, and made your way back home, hoping to see him in the morning or to at least find something more interesting than dust in his home.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve greeted the concierge of his building when he entered the marbled entree hall. With a little frown and a look at his watch, the man greeted him back before he resumed his work.

Yes, Steve was home earlier than usual. He regularly stayed even longer than his original work schedule intended. Today, however, he was home even earlier. But after another banter with Bucky about Steve’s non-existent sex life, he couldn’t imagine making it past five in the same building as his persistent best friend. So, he fled the office and decided to work through the rest of his papers at home.

Of course, Steve knew that Bucky only wanted the best for him. But the ways he tried to approach the supposed bothersome loneliness Steve had in his bed just weren’t for Steve. Those might have worked on Tony - hell, Tony probably invented setting his friends up with one-night-stands - but not on Steve.

He huffed and swiped some loose hairs from his forehead as the elevator dinged at the top floor. The doors opened to the window front of his penthouse apartment and Steve stepped over the threshold, immediately stopping in his tracks when he took in the scene before him.

The vacuum was running while you were kneeling on the floor, wiping up some water he only assumed came from the vase missing next to his sofa. He would have found it rather amusing if it weren’t for the way you carried yourself today. Something wasn’t right.

Steve knew that you weren’t usually this messy - that much he could tell from the livestream that had become a constant in his office by now. Your head hung low, your motions hurried and sloppy. He watched as you swiped the floor, one of your sleeves constantly slipping down your arm again until you angrily pushed it up further than necessary.

It was worrisome.

He couldn’t place the feeling he felt in his chest when he sat his briefcase down and approached you from behind. His foot carefully turned off the vacuum and then he stood still, careful not to startle you when you finally looked up at him.

He could see it in your eyes then. The panic, the uncertainty, and something else he hadn’t seen in them before.

You looked around you as if you were seeing the mess for the first time and when Steve was still watching you with an arched brow after a minute of silence, you suddenly sprung up to your feet.

“I am so Sorry, Mr. Rogers. I didn’t realize it was this late already.” You turned a full 360 until your eyes landed on his again. “I’ll have this cleaned up in no time and I'll be out of your way. I promise.”

Steve watched as you scrambled to gather the vacuum cord, struggling with it when it didn’t immediately snap back into the caster. “The subway was stuck in a tunnel for an hour because some guy decided to pull the emergency break for fun. And then this lady passed out next to me and when the fire department finally got us out and the paramedics packed her in the ambulance, I realized that I still had her purse.” You finally got the cord in turning so fast that the wet rag in your hands sprayed some water on Steve. “And do you know how difficult it is to find out which hospital they’re taking people? Because it’s so much more difficult than it looks in the movies. I didn’t know that! And then it was almost 10 a.m. when I got here. I am so sorry. This won’t happen again I promise-“

“Hey,” Steve finally stepped forward and caught your flailing hands with his and it shut you up. “It’s alright.” He spoke softly, guiding your hands down and proceeding to carefully stroke your arms down. “Are you okay? Do you need a day off?”

Your doe eyes stared up at him, round and shiny as if you couldn’t believe he was actually standing in front of you. And Steve had to admit, besides the concern breezing through his body, your face was capturing up close. He traced your lashes with his gaze, the way your lips were parted slightly, your teeth showing past your upper lip, and the way your eyebrows were raised in shock.

“No... no, I’m fine.” You finally stammered and it made Steve relax a little.

“Then take a breath for me, please.” You nodded and Steve watched as your shoulders moved when you inhaled with your eyes closed. It shook Steve out of his trance. He cleared his throat and retreated his hands from your arms, awkwardly standing up a little straighter now that there was no excuse to touch you anymore.

You were fine - that’s what you had said. But you didn’t quite seem that way.

He watched as you opened your eyes and gifted him a small smile. Then your gaze dew to the floor and the mess you were standing in. Your smile turned awkward.

“I’ll clean this up real quick and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Steve shook his head with a smile. Maybe this was a nice opportunity to do as Bucky had suggested. It was true, Steve hadn’t been interested enough before. Had he taken more time to know his former maids better, he could have probably prevented his things from being stolen and sold. Maybe it wasn’t exactly what Bucky had meant by ‘interested’, but Save decided it would do for now. “You can do what you need to and you can take as much time as you need to. I’ll be in my office for some time, so please don’t rush. I didn’t mean to freak you out by coming home earlier.”

His arms reached up to scratch the back of his neck and your eyes landed on his bicep. Those damn doe eyes. “O- okay.”

He nodded, buried his hands in his pockets, gifted you a tight-lipped smile, and then proceeded to grab his briefcase and disappear into his office at the end of the hall.

After some time, he heard the vacuum pick back up. Steve peaked through his open office door and caught a glimpse of you roaming his living room every now and then. It was relieving to know that you were functioning again. You had him worried for a second there - a feeling the successful CEO hadn’t welcomed in a hot minute. But it was kind of nice, made him feel a little more human than usual. So he didn’t mind having you work while he was home. On the contrary, actually, even though he had a huge stack of papers to go through, having to do them with a little bit of white noise was much more efficient than he had thought. He liked it when the occasional sound of items being set down snook its way to his office just to be interrupted by the vacuum again. And before he knew it, the workload he had taken home with him today, was worked through.

Steve made his way to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Though, as he waited for the machine, he found himself leaning against the counter and watching you work in front of him. You were currently bent over the sofa, arranging the cushions after shaking them out, your shirt riding up ever so slightly and exposing a strip of skin on your back.

The fresh grounding of coffee beans covered the way Steve gulped loudly at the sight of you in front of him. This was definitely different than watching on his laptop screen. He felt his pants tighten ever so slightly as he imagined walking up to you and just taking you from behind. Your face would press into the pillows as he would easily push into you, hearing your drawn-out moans through the cushions.

He couldn’t help himself, you were just so pretty.

The smell of coffee drew Steve back to reality. It wasn’t that simple. Because Steve wanted you to want him as well. But you didn’t know him well enough yet.

You pulled the vacuum around the corner and seconds later the sound of the storage room door closing echoed through the apartment. You walked back into the living room, adjusted the book on his coffee table, and then looked at your work with your hands on your hips. It was kind of cute to watch, Steve had to admit.

“Well done,” Steve praised and your shoulders jerked in surprise.

“Woah, didn’t see you there, Sir.” You relaxed again and then moved to change your shoes, before packing the other pair in your bag. You looked like you were about to leave, but Steve didn’t want that.

“Would you like some coffee?” He offered and turned to grab the mug that was just filled with the steaming hot beverage.

But you shook your head, raising your hands. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude. I’m sure you’ve got work to do...”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it were an inconvenience.”

You looked down and nodded, which made Steve smile and hand you the cup. Your hands encased it like it was a cold winter's day, timid looks roaming the room and landing everywhere but him.

“You seem uncomfortable,” he tried, cautious not to intrude.

“I’m not. It’s just that... I’m not used to,” you gestured around the kitchen, “all this.”

“I know it sounds stupid but sometimes I feel the same.” Steve took in the high ceilings and shiny surfaces, the expensive paintings and furniture he had no part in picking out.

You just stared at him again before nodding and averting your eyes once more. It seemed like you were holding back, but Steve didn’t feel like he was in the position to ask. So he just had to do with your fleeting glances and diffident presence. It was fine for now. Though he didn’t know if he could actually stand it for long.

“You got this job through Bucky’s assistant, right?”

“Natasha, yes. She’s my best friend.” Your eyes lit up and Steve celebrated the little victory in silence. He had finally found something to talk about with you.

“How long have you known each other?” He took a sip of his own coffee, acting indifferent, though his gaze hung on your lips.

“We’ve been friends since high school. But then we went to different colleges and for a moment, we lost contact. But when I called her after graduation, we reconnected. We coincidentally both moved to New York. It’s nice to have her back.”

“That does sound nice. I know a thing or two about reconnecting with old friends.” Steve smiled reminiscent.

“Right, your business partner. Mr. Barnes.” You set your mug down when Steve shot you a surprised look. “Sorry, but it’s hard not to know things about you when every tabloid in the country has covered your story.”

Steve nodded, being reminded once again how different his life was now. Not that he didn’t appreciate it... it just used to be simpler.

“Yes, Bucky is my oldest friend... we’d lost contact in-between as well. Now we spend so much time together, I sometimes wish it was that way again.”

“You don’t mean that,” you laughed and Steve swore it was the prettiest he’d ever heard.

“Of course not.” He set his cup down once he noticed that you had finished your coffee and had grabbed your bag from the stool.

“I should go,” you smiled sadly and Steve just nodded with a similar expression on his face. Then he pushed off the counter and walked you to the elevator. He caught your small wave before the doors closed, leaving his stomach feeling warm and fuzzy.

This was definitely new.

❁ ❁ ❁

The next week was pure torture.

Steve couldn’t work from home like he had wanted to. He also couldn’t go to work later to at least catch a ‘good morning’ from you.

It had only lasted a couple more days. He had managed to trap you for a conversation with coffee two times after the first one and then it all went downhill from there.

Steve’s work seemed to pile up in unusual amounts of papers on his desk. His e-mails and meetings were longer than ever and his frustrations built with every new message Sharon redirected to his phone.

It wasn’t until Bucky pointed out how unusually grumpy he was, that Steve realized, he missed you. How could that have happened? He barely knew you and talked to you even less than that. But he knew he was missing you. Because as silly as it sounded, the time he spent with you, he was more relaxed than ever before.

“I’m headed home, now. Do you need anything before I go?” Sharon popped her head through the door of Steve’s office after the knock she placed there.

Steve just sighed as he closed one of a dozen tabs on his computer. Then he shook his head. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early!” She beamed and Steve just waved her off.

The door fell shut once again and Steve moved to close a second tab. The one open beneath was the video footage of his home. It was paused because Steve had categorized it as ‘not suited for work’ once he saw you climb on his bed to straighten out the sheets and his dick reminded him just how deprived he really was.

Looking at the paused video now, his pants tightened again. There you were, on all fours on his bed, tugging the sheet under the headboard side of his mattress - ass up and struggling. Fucking hell.

His hand instinctively moved to his crotch to relieve some tension and then his eyes fell to his office door. Sharon had gone home. He was likely the only one left. His gaze wandered back to his computer screen and before he knew it, he was rubbing his hard cock through his pants.

He groaned lowly at the feeling spreading through his body, the image on his screen just intensifying the scenarios he usually imagined when he got himself off. Because now they had your face. And your perfect body. If he squinted at the screen, he could actually see a sliver of your underwear peaking out the top of your pants.

“Jesus Christ,” He pushed through his teeth when his hands worked to open his belt and pulled his rock-hard length out. He was already leaking from the angry red tip.

His thumb grazed over his sensitive flesh, spreading the beads of precum and his whole body shivered when he imagined you doing it instead. His knees spread further apart in his office chair as he squeezed the base of his cock, concentrating on his breathing to slow. And then, without thinking, his other hand moved to play the video.

Steve’s eyes never left the screen as he watched you tug the sheets tight. Your ass bounced up and down with the motion and he began to pump his shaft, imagining pushing into you from behind. Then you crawled back slowly, careful not to pull the sheet off again, but one corner came loose anyway. As you leaned forward, your new position seemed even more obscene - with your arms stretched forward and your ass still slightly lifted off the mattress.

Steve’s fist pumped harder up and down his cock, he was panting. He could already feel the orgasm building. His balls were on the edge of bursting - but he wanted to hold out a little longer.

For a second, his gaze jumped to the little speaker icon at the bottom right corner of his screen. His right hand still pumping with a tight grip, the left moved to slightly turn up the volume on the stream.

Just then, you released a frustrated groan, followed by a throatier, softer noise that could almost be mistaken for a moan and Steve lost it. His fist stroked his thick cock in hard fast motions, the tingle in his body building with every heavy breath you released. His thumb grazed over his tip when you fell forward like a fawn and it was enough to make him burst.

He closed his eyes and threw his head back on the chair. With a last firm push, he tumbled over the edge, squeezing his flesh as he felt the hot ropes of cum cover his hand. His heart beat in his ears once the ecstasy subsided, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

Steve stared at the ceiling, sighing in defeat. He was in deep now.

❁ ❁ ❁

“So... how’s it going?” Nat’s voice rang through your speaker and you pressed your phone a little harder to your ear to hear her over the street noises.

“It’s going really good. I don’t see him that often but he’s not messy at all, so it’s really not that bad.”

“Good, I’m glad!” Nat cheered on the other end of the line and you could hear her computer keys clicking beneath her fingernails. “Anything you wanna tell me?” Her tone was suggestive, and you kind of hated how well she knew you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on, we’re stating the obvious here. He’s hot!”

“Nat!” You gasped appalled. “I’m not going around asking you if you think your boss is hot.”

“Why not? I'm not ashamed to admit it. My boss is hot,” she stated plainly and shorty after a distant ‘You got that right, doll!’ was heard through your speaker.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, watching around you as if anyone could hear what Nat was saying.

“So...?”

“Okay, yes he’s super hot and I wish he would just grab me with his big muscled arms and kiss the life out of me every time I see him. Are you happy now?”

“Yes, very.”

You waved at the concierge when you reached Mr. Roger’s apartment building and then stepped into the elevator. “Good. I can’t believe I just made me say that out loud.”

“We both know it’s true. No shame in a little crush.” You could practically hear her grin through the phone and it just annoyed you even more. How could she call you out when she was a mile away?

“Great, now I’m actually imagining kissing him and running my hands down his chest,” You huffed as the elevator door opened and turned the corner just to stop in your tracks.

“I knew it!”

“Nat, I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, but-“ and then you ended the call as your eyes were glued to the kitchen counter.

You stepped closer, your eyes never leaving where they had landed upon your arrival. There, on the polished black marble, stood a vase with a beautiful bouquet of pastel flowers.

Your breath hitched in your throat as your fingers traced the colorful petals, and you leaned in to smell them. This was so sweet! A little giddiness shot through your body at the sight of the flowers. You’d never expected them from Mr. Rogers and it was nice to be appreciated.

Feeling excitement all over, your fingers reached for the little white card lodged between a eucalyptus branch. But when you turned it over, all of it fell like someone had turned on gravity again.

Happy one month!

Your mind repeated the words over and over again until they registered.

Happy one month.

You dropped the card and it made a dull clicking noise on the counter. How could you have been so naïve? Nat had put this stupid haze in your brain, getting you all giddy and excited. Of course, he had a fucking girlfriend. How could he not? He was Steve fucking Rogers.

You needed to take a step back and breathe. Those were a few too many emotions to feel in the early morning for you. Now you even felt guilty about wanting to run your fingers down his body. God, you’d even said it out loud - how embarrassing!

“Okay, girl. Relax. Nobody heard,” you reminded yourself out loud. And then you took a deep breath with your eyes closed.

“It’s not embarrassing if nobody saw. I’m the only one that can decide the level of awkwardness here.” Maybe stop talking to yourself then. You nodded and carefully placed the card back in the bouquet.

“This never happened,” you whispered, more so to ensure yourself. “Just move on with your day.”

Thank god it wasn’t kitchen day - you wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of those flowers any longer.

With your shoulders pulled back and your head held high, you made your way to the supply closet and got to work.

It’s just another day. You reminded yourself when you pulled your cleaning supplies out and into the office.

Just like any other day...

❁ ❁ ❁

Boy, had you never been any more wrong.

Your phone rang at 7.30 that evening. You had already made yourself comfortable on your sofa, ready to binge a whole season of Gilmore Girls, after a successful day of pretending you hadn’t gotten the biggest turn-down of the century this morning. You had finished your cleaning plan, you had gone grocery shopping, bought yourself some own damn flowers, and even showered all before the sun had set.

But now your phone rang and the caller ID could not mean anything good.

“Hello?”

“Good evening!” Your name echoed through the speaker of your phone, a - for your taste - way too cheery woman on the other end. “I am very sorry I have to call so late. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“That’s alright, what do you need?” You bit your lip nervously, only dreading the next words of Mr. Rogers’s assistant.

“Well, actually it is not I that needs anything. Mr. Rogers requested for you to see him. Is that possible?”

“What? When?”

“Now would be amazing.” Your eyes widened at her words. Mr Rogers wanted to see you and it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? You must have done something horribly wrong. Oh, god, had he noticed you messed with the flowers? Had he seen you sniff his pillows? All possible scenarios of wrongdoing swarmed your head when you sprung up and bolted for your closet.

“I can be there in thirty minutes,” you hurried through the speaker just to receive a satisfied hum from the other end.

“Amazing! Thank you so much.”

She had hung you before you could even answer. It didn’t matter. You looked through your clothes, trying to decide what an appropriate ‘getting fired’ outfit would consist of - probably no sweatpants, so you could find the closest bar and drink your sorrows away in connection to the dreaded talk.

You pulled out something, you could see yourself crying in and headed for the door.

❁ ❁ ❁

8.00 pm on the dot, the elevator doors opened to reveal a beautiful New York Skyline. Unfortunately, you neither had the headspace, nor the time to appreciate it properly. As soon as you turned the corner you saw Mr. Rogers casually leaning on the kitchen island.

Instantly, you felt intimidated. He had never done anything to make you feel scared or in danger, but his mere presence was so powerful, you didn’t quite know how to act around him. Especially, because on top of it all, he was the most attractive man you’d ever laid your eyes on.

“What did I do?” It just sprung out of you, your arms wanted to hug your body but you willed them still. He didn’t need to see how worried you really were.

To your surprise, however, his face scrunched up in amusement instead. He pushed himself off the counter and gestured towards the flowers still standing proud on that polished marble top.

“You forgot your flowers.”

“My... my flowers?” He nodded with a small frown, probably confused by your reaction. And to be honest, you were too.

“Yes... I got you flowers. You’ve officially been working here for a month. That’s a record.” He shook his head with a chuckle and then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m... very picky.”

His eyes met yours and a whole new wave of uncertainty washed over you. You didn’t miss the hesitation in his tone, the carefully chosen wording for something he didn’t exactly say.

“So, I’m not fired.” God, why did it take so long for you to register. You just looked so stupid right now.

“On the contrary.” Mr. Rogers took a step closer, though still keeping a respectable distance. “I think I can trust you. I’m very pleased with your work. You deserve them.”

“I do?” You looked up at him with big eyes when he took another step closer. He was so tall, you had to tilt your head up now that he was so near.

“Can I trust you?”

His chest would almost touched you, if you were to breathe any heavier. Your breath hitched in your throat when the faint remains of his perfume reached your nose. It was as intoxicating - the way his eyes stared down at you - intense and looming. “Ye- Yes.”

“Good.” His voice was a raw timbre. His gaze drifted to the side, where his hand slowly reached up to lay on your shoulder. You felt warm and tingly from the touch.

Not knowing what to do exactly, you just held your breath and stared up at his eyes. They were so blue - and up close, they were so much more captivating than any magazine photograph could ever display.

You wanted to touch him, reach out, and pull him down towards you, but he had just told you he trusted you. Were you really going to risk this perfectly good job for a heated moment?

His other hand came up to graze your cheek with a careful touch and the worry of losing your job suddenly became very small. Mr. Roger’s hands were warm, his fingers almost hot even compared to your heated face.

So you did it. Your hand reached forward and landed on the top of his chest, one of them traveled down the hard plane of his torso while the other clawed at his shirt collar. His thumb traveled to your lower lip, pulling it down and then stroking over the soft flesh, touching your teeth as well.

Guided by the heat traveling through our body, your right hand tightened around his shirt and pulled him down and onto your lips. The blonde man jerked forward until his mouth crashed onto yours, immediately moving in perfect sync with yours.

Your insides were tingling from the kiss when you felt his lips pull into a smile. His big hands roamed your body until they snook around your back, pulling you flush against his body and making you sigh contently.

Mr. Rogers chuckled and then kissed you deeper. His touch was everywhere, yours too. Your mind was free of anything that wasn’t the tall, built, blonde man in your arms as soon as his tongue traced your bottom lip - asking for you to let him in. And you did just that. When he began to explore your mouth, you melted even further into his embrace.

No man had ever kissed you like that. Which was why you dreaded the moment you had to pull away for air.

Your hand landed on his cheek, thumb softly stroking his beard, eyes locked with his.

“You’re very good at this.”

He just chuckled and pecked your lips once more. “Up.” He demanded, suddenly, he grabbed your thighs and lifted you as if you weighed nothing.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm gonna show you how good I am at this.”

Then he set you down on the bed and pushed you back until your head hit the comforter. His scent, the one you’d secretly been craving ever since you started working here, engulfed you like a big blanket. He stood above you, big and broad-shouldered, looming over you like a wild animal. But you weren’t scared.

“You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” His lips attached to your collarbone, sucking and licking bruises to your skin until you moaned beneath him and your hands clung to his hair. “I’ve been watching you,” he murmured to your neck and a shiver traveled down your spine.

“I knew it,” you gasped when he reached a spot behind your ears that sparked more pleasure. The thought of him spending his day watching you made you all excited and impatient.

“The way you stumble about this place when you clean it... How do you navigate the world being this clumsy, Bambi?” A whimper escaped you at the nickname he chose for you. “You need somebody to take care of you, huh.”

You arched your back to brush up against him. His hard cock was already straining his pants, pressing into your own deliciously. “Ah, yes.”

“Don’t worry, Bambi, I’m right here. I’ll take real good care of you.” His fingers traveled down your body until they reached the hem of your jeans and began to tug on them.

You pulled him down to your lips once more, guiding his head back to that spot behind your ear that had you squirming on the sheets. “So needy.”

His voice was so low and husky now, you barely noticed he had already worked your pants open and halfway down your legs. You kicked them off the rest of the way and arched yourself back against him just to have him grind down on your core.

“Feel so good, so big,” you mumbled through the haze you already found yourself in. God, what was it with this man - he was out of this world.

“You can’t wait any longer, can you, Bambi?” His hands moved beneath your shirt and began to massage your breasts. “But I get it. I don’t wanna wait any longer, either.”

In a swift motion, he had you flipped on your stomach, his hands traveling to your hips to pull you on all fours in front of him. Then the bed dipped and you felt his fingers press to your soaked underwear. He rubbed the drenched fabric over your entrance, only driving you wild with need when his fingers reached higher to your clit. “So pretty.”

“I need you,” you whined, “need you so bad.”

“Believe me, I need you too.” He pulled the black lace over the curve of your ass and you felt the cool bedroom air hit your wet core, only making you shiver once more.

“You’re so fucking perfect, you know that.” You could only whimper in response when his hand pushed your head into the comforter and his face suddenly pressed into your pussy from behind.

“Oh, god.” A yelp escaped you as his tongue teased at your entrance, only to be pulled back to lick a long strip from your clit back to it. His hand massaged your cheeks and the constant moaning to your core shook you from the inside out.

“This isn’t enough, is it, Bambi?” He dragged a strong finger up your spine. “You need me to fill you all the way up, don’t you? Need me to mark you, show everyone you’re mine.”

“Yes, yes, fill me up, give it all to me. Fuck me and make me yours.” You were so desperate at this point. His mouth had you squirming and aching for the promising bulge beneath his pants and you couldn’t wait to feel him raw - you’d let him do anything.

You turned your head and watched as he unbuckled his belt. Within seconds, his cock sprung free from its restraints and your breath hitched in your throat. He was thick and long, a prominent vein running along his side up to his tip, pink and already decorated by a bead of precum. Of course, Steve Rogers had a pretty cock. What wasn’t perfect about him?

“You’re so wet already, Bambi. So ready for my fat cock, aren’t you? You’ll suck me right in, I just know it.”

“Please! I wanna feel all of you.” Another whimper got swallowed by the mattress when you waited in anticipation for him to finally fuck you.

His one hand grabbed your ass and the other aligned his cock with your entrance. You could feel his head already breaching, a delicious stretch sending shocks through your body in hot and cold waves of pleasure.

He groaned lowly and it sent shivers down your spine. “Relax, baby girl. You’re so tight. You’ll be so stuffed with me.”

“I need you de-. I- ah just please!”

He worked himself forward with small rocking motions, each time reaching a little deeper into your core and when you thought he was finally all the way in, he pushed even further until your ass was pressed flush to his thighs.

You screamed into the covers and reached for something to grasp when he groaned behind you. “Gripping me like a vice, Bambi. Are you gonna be able to take it?” He shivered behind you and you could tell he was struggling to hold still until you answered him.

“I can take it. Your big cock feels so good inside me. Oh, god, please move.”

“Fuck.” Wet noises filled the room when he drew back almost all the way, just to slam back into you. In this position the curve of his cock stroked your walls perfectly, making it hard to hold back the building orgasm.

“I’m so close already, sir. I’m-”

“Fucking call me Steve,” he roared and pushed your face further into the covers. “You gonna come? Gonna squeeze my cock with your pretty little pussy already, huh?”

You could only whimper in response, the steady stroke of his body clouded your mind until you felt like you were floating.

“I-“Another scream ripped through your speech when the pleasure exploded within you. Steve slowed his motions, seemingly unable to move with the way your muscles contracted around him. And when the pulsing pleasure lessened after what felt like minutes, he picked his pace back up again.

“That was so sexy. You gonna do that again for me? I’m so fucking close.”

His hand reached around you and began to massage your clit in tight little circles and your body lifted off the bed. Steve had pulled you up flush against his chest and watched his hand work on your clit over your shoulder.

“’S too much! Ah!” You were still pulsing around his cock with every circle he traced on your bundle of nerves, making your legs quiver.

“You’re doing so good, Bambi. You can give me another. Milk my cock dry.” He kissed your neck and bit your skin. “So fucking beautiful, how’d I get so lucky?”

“Steve!” You felt another wave of pleasure approaching, just for his fingers to still on your clit, his hand now pressing into your stomach.

“I’m almost there, baby. Hold it a little longer.” His face fell into your neck and you could feel his cock twitch inside you while his hot breath licked down your shoulder. “Don’t you fucking cum until I say so.”

“I don’t know if I-“

“Yes, you can!” Steve pushed you until you fell onto all fours again and then guided your hips to meet his hard strokes. His movements became frantic and fast, making you lose your mind.

“I’m gonna fill you to the brim, Bambi. Make you drip with my cum for days. You’re mine.”

“Steve! Steve!” You couldn’t hold it any longer, it was too much. He was so big, and his movements so fast, there was no way you were lasting any longer.

“Wait. Almost there.”

“I can’t. I can’t! I’m- Oh my god!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuck.” With one last hard slam, Steve shot his hot seed in your pussy. Your walls clenched with every lewd sound he pushed through his heavy breaths. “Cumming so much for you, Bambi. All for you. Uhnggghh.” He rutted into you a couple more times and once the intense feeling faded into lazy pulses, he fell forward and pulled you into his chest.

Still buried deep within you, Steve pulled the covers over your bodies. Every little movement made you squirm and your pussy clench down again, drawing small grunts from the man behind you.

“You did so good.” His hand stroked over your hair and his face nuzzled into your shoulder. “Now, rest. You deserve it.”

And with that, you let your body fall into its well-needed sleep - warm, content, and without a care for the morning.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve woke up to the sound of his alarm. He smiled before he opened his eyes, his mind still reminiscing the night before. He felt warm and content at the thought of it. Your kiss was like nothing else.

He felt around his bed blindly after turning off the alarm only to be met by a cold mattress. Opening his eyes, he called out your name and sat up in bed. But when no answer sounded from his apartment, he got up and looked for you. After a few minutes of searching, he was sure you weren’t there. And it worried him. He had planned to order you breakfast. He wanted to talk about last night. He wanted to tell you how much it had meant to him.

A look at the clock on his wall made him frown. Maybe you’d gone home to change for work. He decided to wait and get to work a little later today. It would all resolve itself, Steve was sure.

But when seven rolled around, there was no sign of you. And even after another 25 minutes, there was no indication you’d show up soon. Steve really couldn’t push his time anymore. There was a lot of work waiting for him at the office. So he got up and grabbed his briefcase, only to be interrupted by his phone.

“Good morning, Sharon.”

“Good morning, Mr. Rogers. I’m just calling to let you know your maid just called in sick.”

“What? Until when?”

“She didn’t say. But she’ll call when she is better.”

“Do you know what she has?”

“I believe that’s private. Mr. Rogers.”

Steve just hummed absentmindedly. His brain already playing all the possibilities in his head.

“Would you be so kind so send me her number?” He asked almost hesitantly, but still demanding enough for Sharon to agree right away.

“Of course, one second.” And then his phone pinged with a message from his assistant.

“Thank you.” Sharon just hummed in response and then she hung up the phone, ever the busy assistant he knew her as.

Steve didn’t hesitate to call you right away. With every peep. His heart hammered faster in his chest. And when he was about to give up, a familiar rustling rang through his speaker.

“Hello?”

Steve took a second to breathe and then he said your name - steady but careful.

“Mr Rogers,” you sounded surprised, and Steve tried to suppress the sting in his heart at the sound of his last name. You had called him Steve just last night. Why’d you stop?

“Yes... I heard you’re sick. Do you need anything?” He cringed the second he said it. You obviously didn’t want anything from him given that you had fled from his apartment before he even woke up this morning.

“No, no. I’m good thank you.” There was an awkward tension in the static connecting the two of you. But Steve didn’t understand where it came from. Had you not enjoyed last night. Had he only imagined the affection you gifted him then?

“Well... I hope you are able to come back soon.”

You huffed into the phone. “Uh, yes. Okay.”

“Alright, then. I’ll see you.”

“I’ll see you.”

And then the line went dead. And Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that you had sounded a lot colder than before...

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve had taken the next day off. His mind was too occupied to work, anyway. He had caught himself glimpsing at his video feed several times that day, even though he knew you weren’t going to show. He guessed, somehow that you would appear anyway. It didn’t happen of course.

So today, Steve had to learn to do nothing. That included not thinking of you as well. Because as much as the thought of you distracted him from work, not working wasn’t exactly the best move to get rid of his thoughts.

First, he had tried to stay in bed until 6. That was hard enough. Then, he worked out a bit, read an article, made a smoothie - okay he ordered one - and then he sat on his sofa watching as the clock above his fireplace ticked to 7 a.m.

It was ridiculous. If every hour would pass this slowly, he’d go insane.

His fingers taped on his thigh as he watched the seconds hand tick. He had to do something, anything.

The moment this thought passed his mind, he heard the elevator door ‘ding’ at his level. And before he could even turn around, your bag hit the ground with a loud thud.

Steve stood up straighter, adjusting a tie he was not wearing, but the motion had become a habit. He was excited you’d shown up - visibly well and healthy that was.

You stared at him for a solid minute and neither of you said a word. Your stare was unintelligible to Steve. He had to admit, that he didn’t know you well enough to read into your silent conversation yet, but he wanted to - he wanted to so badly.

His hands moved to clasp in front of him and then he cleared his throat, but as he was about to say something, you moved past him, straight to the supply closet, and then disappeared into his guest bedroom.

He followed you before he could tell his feet to stop, halting in the doorway of the room and watching as you dusted off the tall shelves above the sideboard.

“What are you doing?” His voice was higher than he anticipated.

“I’m working,” you answered bluntly, moving to the next object to dust off.

“Why?” Steve had promised to provide for you just the other night. And, yes, while he might have been hazy from the incredible pleasure you had created, he had meant every word.

You suddenly turned to him with an angry stare. “I’m working because, unlike other people, I can’t just do whatever I want and not deal with the consequences,” you spat and then turned around again. The dusting motion turned a little more aggressive and Steve felt a cold shiver run down his back. Feisty.

Though, Steve couldn’t quite place your anger. Had he said something to offend you? How did the other night play into any consequences and why the hell were you working still? You’d said it yourself, you wanted to be his. And that was all he ever wanted. It just didn’t make sense.

Steve didn’t move. He just stood there like an idiot and watched you work your anger away on the poor dusty decorations of his home. You obviously didn't want to talk to him and he had no idea what to say to you. So he just watched... and watched until at least ten minutes had gone by.

You were at a completely different corner of the room by now, trying to grab a book to dust off, but couldn’t quite reach. Steve had been standing in the doorway this whole time so he just assumed he was blocking your way to a ladder. But he took it as an opportunity instead.

In three Long strides, he had walked up to you, reached for the item you stretched toward, and handed it to you. And for a second there, he could see those doe eyes return to your face, staring up at him.

Maybe he had misread the situation after all because your gaze drew him in again. He slowly closed his eyes before he could reach your lips, excitement rising in his veins when he thought back to the feeling of your lips on his–

*smack*

His eyes shot open when your hand collided with his cheek, a fire flickering in your eyes that made him take a step back, holding his heated skin.

“You don’t have to mock me, okay?! I know it’s embarrassing and it’s stupid what we did, so please don’t make this more difficult.”

“What?” Steve was baffled, hurt.

It was stupid what we did. Your words echoed in his mind until your voice penetrated the mantra.

“Just leave me alone. Don’t you have work to do?”

He shook his head with an aching heart. You really had no idea. You thought he had used you, made you a bed bunny like Tony or Bucky would - he’d never do that. “I called in sick. I was so... forget it.”

You resumed cleaning and Steve just stood in your way watching. His chest stung with every second he spent with his eyes glued to you, knowing what you thought of him. He couldn’t stand it. He never wanted to make you uncomfortable, much less convey he’d only use you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You ignored him, but he could see your movements stagger for a second. “Do you really regret what we did?”

Then you paused, your eyes trained to the surface in front of you. When you finally looked at him, Steve could see the tears shimmering in them.

“No,” you whispered softly, Steve had almost missed it had his heart not skipped a beat.

He instinctively stepped closer to you again, though cautious not to scare you away. He’d come this far and didn’t want to mess it all up again. “Then why are you ignoring me?”

“I'm not ignoring you.” It shot out of you like a bullet. You sighed, took another breath, and set the duster down. “We don’t know each other. We live in completely different worlds. There is not one scenario in which we could exist together as anything more than... this. I know that now.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re you and I’m just the maid.” You gestured to Steve and then yourself and Steve hated the way you degraded yourself just because he had a couple dollars more in his bank account. It wasn’t right.

He shook his head, his hand reaching out to you but dropping just before he could actually touch you, curbing into a soft fist instead. “And what if I told you that you are much more to me than that?” Now he finally dared to lay his hand on your cheek, tilting your head so he could come closer to you and still stare into your eyes. “I like you. And the night– ever since you came into my life, my days seem just so much less dull.”

He smiled with shiny eyes, afraid your silence would last forever. “Please say something, Bambi.”

“You like me?” There was awe and disbelief in your voice and Steve wanted to kiss it away until every last doubt was erased from your mind. Whoever had made you this insecure about affection would eat his fist.

Steve bit his lip to hide the chuckle threatening to spill. “I do.”

He slowly got lost in your eyes again. Those beautiful innocent orbs looked at him like he was a different type of special. He loved it so much.

His gaze dropped to your lips, slightly parted and full, and then back up. And before he could lose himself in them again, your hands latched onto his collar and pulled him down toward you.

The kiss was all tongue and teeth, need and desperation melting into sighs and tingles - he could feed off of it forever. His hands roamed your body and pressed you deeper into his. Your arms reached around his neck as your noses bumped against each other in eager anticipation.

Nothing ever felt this right. Steve couldn’t possibly believe you’d doubted the chemistry for a second. Not when it felt like that. But he wouldn’t need to think back on it anymore now... now that he finally had you.

🫵 You cant get enough of this character? Go check out the chatbot I made for him! This way you can explore different endlings, plotlines, or just enjoy his company for a while longer 💕

I couldn't decide which GIF to use, so here are some extras!

If you’ve read this far, I would be so happy to receive a comment or reblog. It helps writers reach more people in the community and also improve themselves. So, if you have the time, please consider giving me some feedback :) until next time ~Meg 💞

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