Siri (she/her) ✩ 40s ✩ Writer ✩ Fangirl ✩ Stargazer ✩ Shameless Hoe Queen ✩ Prolific Ruiner of Undergarments ✩ Basement Wifing Enthusiast ✩ Lady of Perpetual Hoeing ✩ Monster Lover ✩ Panty Slayer ✩ Masterlist & side blog for new fic notifications linked in my pinned post ✩ REQUESTS ARE CLOSED ✩ 18+ blog! ✩ Instead of serial liking, reblog or comment to support writers.
Hello! I'm Siri (she/her). Welcome to my blog! I write Chris Evans characters x Fem!Reader fanfic, with a little monster loving fic thrown in. So pull up a chair, have your backup panties on standby, and settle in for some shameless hoeing 😘
🎉Join my birthday bash, August 15-18🎉
Access my masterlist here.
↠ The Full Birthday Experience (Steve Rogers x F!Reader)
↠ A Soft Touch (Andy Barber x F!Reader)
↠ Security Enabled (Steve Rogers x F!Reader)
↠ Down Time (Curtis Everett x F!Reader)
↠ Unwelcome (Ari Levinson x F!Reader)
↠ Happy Birthday (Curtis Everett x F!Reader)
↠ Unshakeable (Ransom Drysdale x F!Reader x Ari Levinson)
↠ Uninhibited (Curtis Everett x F!Reader)
↠ Guard Dog (Pete Brenner x F!Reader x Frank Castle)
↠ Tit for Tat (Curtis Everett x F!Reader)
*This work is a short riff, drabble, or hoe thought vs a longer oneshot or series chapter.
↠ Please do not serial like my work. I put so much time, energy, and love into my writing, and it’s super disheartening and demotivating to watch people breeze through my entire masterlist without dropping a single comment or reblog. Do your part to help our community thrive: support writers and their hard work that you enjoy for free! If you struggle with what to say when commenting/reblogging, check out this post. Just a simple comment or reblog with feedback goes such a long way to keep writers inspired and excited to write and post more! It’s a win win.
↠ Requests are closed, however I am happy to riff and answer questions about my stories, the CE!babes, and monsters, but please do not send me asks about medical conditions or health issues, I find that content triggering.
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↠ Please do not pressure me for fic updates or status check ins. I do not write on a schedule, nor do I adhere to deadlines because it sucks all the fun out of writing for me. I write my stories when I have the time, energy, and inspiration.
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↠ Writing resources: Need some writing tips? Check out this writing resources masterlist!
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↠ A hoe’s gotta hoe. Go on and ruin your panties with dem filthy fics, and be absolutely shameless about it! Love you! 😘
P.S. Wanna learn more about the Shameless Hoe HQ wet dream team? Read this! 😘
just thinking about men who lean their heads down to listen to what you have to say because of the height difference, humming along to your words, accidentally nosing against your cheek because he knows it flusters you before murmuring, "keep talking, sweet girl. i'm listening."
Being delivered to mafia Steve as a birthday present - with a pretty bow (and nothing else)
Oh yesssss 🥴😮💨🫠
I’m imagining you kneeling on the floor in the middle of his study, trembling and silently crying as you hug yourself and try to cover as much of your nudity as possible.
You can’t help but recoil when Steve’s fingers tickle along your bare shoulder as he slowly circles you—the penultimate predator.
He tuts at your attempted retreat from his touch as he comes to a stop in front of you. His fingers catch beneath your chin, not only to tilt your tear-stained face up, forcing you to meet his gaze, but to reel you in closer, too, so you’re only inches away from his pelvis.
“You’ll learn very quickly not to try to run away from me, sweetheart… I don’t take kindly to defiance, no matter how small the act.” His touch was surprisingly gentle as he drew his knuckles down your cheek. “And something tells me that a delicate thing like you wouldn’t be very good at enduring my brand of punishment.”
You shudder at the steel in Steve’s voice, the hard glint in his eyes.
His outright threat.
Your breath hitches on an aborted sob as he drags you even closer to him, until your face is pressed against the growing bulge at the front of his slacks.
But this time, you don’t try to pull away. Swallowing down your tears, you force yourself to go pliant and sink against him even more.
Steve huffs a quiet, delighted laugh, his voice much warmer now as he coos, “Good girl.”
This Steve has been eating away at my whore brain 🥴 So, naturally, I had this thot…
You’re perched on Steve’s lap at one of his clubs so he can steal moments of enjoying you in between business—how good you look in the dress he picked out, how soft the skin of your bare thighs are beneath his fingers, how you’re trying so hard not to curl in on yourself and risk his displeasure even though he can tell you’re extremely uncomfortable.
God, you’re just so fucking sweet.
Needless to say, Steve is enjoying himself. Until the business associate across the table from the two of you makes the mistake of looking at you. Of commenting on Steve’s pretty new toy. Of reaching out and brazenly touching your cheek.
Which is the last thing he ever does with that hand.
Or at all.
It happens so quickly, Steve shifting you off his lap, pulling the largest knife you’ve ever seen from behind his back, and stabbing it through the asshole’s hand, pinning it to the table top.
But that isn’t enough retribution for Steve. Before you can blink, he’s on his feet, reaching across the table, and snapping the man’s neck with his bare hands.
You watch in horror as his former business associate slumps across the table.
Dead.
Right out in the open, surrounded by a club full of people, very few of whom seem even a tiny bit surprised or disturbed by this display.
You’re not quick enough—or in your right mind enough—to suppress the terrified whimper that bubbles up as Steve retakes his seat and sweeps you back onto his lap.
“Shhh,” he shushes you with a gentle caress up your side. Until his big hand—one of which he just used to kill someone—is softly cradling the side of your neck and reeling you close.
Steve nuzzles your cheek with a quiet hum, breathing you in on deep breath before letting it out on a sigh.
His fingers tickle beneath your chin, turning your wide, disbelieving gaze his way, and he grins at your complete and utter shock.
“No one touches what’s mine,” he winks before running his thumb along your lower lip then reaching for his drink.
oh no i loooooove him!! i don't care how violent he is, that's a good man not letting some strange weirdo touch me 😤 i'll be so good for him i swear!!!
I’m cracking up at how we’re all so in love with him 🤣🥰 I really think this Steve would reward good behavior, and he definitely picks up on your praise kink 🫠
Being delivered to mafia Steve as a birthday present - with a pretty bow (and nothing else)
Oh yesssss 🥴😮💨🫠
I’m imagining you kneeling on the floor in the middle of his study, trembling and silently crying as you hug yourself and try to cover as much of your nudity as possible.
You can’t help but recoil when Steve’s fingers tickle along your bare shoulder as he slowly circles you—the penultimate predator.
He tuts at your attempted retreat from his touch as he comes to a stop in front of you. His fingers catch beneath your chin, not only to tilt your tear-stained face up, forcing you to meet his gaze, but to reel you in closer, too, so you’re only inches away from his pelvis.
“You’ll learn very quickly not to try to run away from me, sweetheart… I don’t take kindly to defiance, no matter how small the act.” His touch was surprisingly gentle as he drew his knuckles down your cheek. “And something tells me that a delicate thing like you wouldn’t be very good at enduring my brand of punishment.”
You shudder at the steel in Steve’s voice, the hard glint in his eyes.
His outright threat.
Your breath hitches on an aborted sob as he drags you even closer to him, until your face is pressed against the growing bulge at the front of his slacks.
But this time, you don’t try to pull away. Swallowing down your tears, you force yourself to go pliant and sink against him even more.
Steve huffs a quiet, delighted laugh, his voice much warmer now as he coos, “Good girl.”
Hi, lovey! I am hanging in there. Work is sucking so much right now, but I’m trying to just not care lol. I hope you’re well ❤️
Now for this ask!! It took a hot minute for a good idea to click in my brain, but once it did, I cackled 🤣
Because that is MYB!Andy crashing a local business networking event that he overheard MYB!Ari’s feisty handful of a Reader chatting about with a few customers while outside of her shop one day.
And Andy figured, you know what? You deserve some payback for sticking your nose in his business and throwing wrenches in his plans. The very least he can do is grace you with his unwelcomed presence.
Again.
So when Andy shows up at this networking event that you both know he would normally never go to—and doesn’t need for his kind of connections,—you are fuming. Livid. About to blow a fucking gasket.
Andy can practically see the smoke coming out of your ears. And since you’re currently chatting with a few business council members, he knows you have no choice but to behave and play nice when he walks up to you and acts so friendly and familiar with you.
Saying your name with warmth and pulling you in to kiss your cheek, just able to stifle his belly laugh when he sees your eye twitch as you paste this terribly fake and pained smile on your face.
Sensing Andy’s importance, the business council folks are all aflutter and insist you introduce them to Andy, and when they talk about how nice it must be to be new neighbors, Andy just smiles so big as he nods along.
“She was so beyond welcoming, I couldn’t have asked for a lovelier and more respectful neighbor.”
Andy does finally laugh once it’s just the two of you, and you give him the nastiest stink eye he’s ever received as you hiss, “How dare you infest a place filled with honest, humble, non-murderous business owners with your organized crime cooties.”
“You have me all wrong, you know,” Andy smiles at you, his gaze looking as amused as that first day you met.
“Doubt it.”
Andy just hums, moving to step past you but pausing close, invading your space and smirking as you squirm and death glare him.
“Have you ever considered that the best, most strategic thing you could do for your business—and its success—is become my ally?”
When you just press your lips into a firm line and give him a wary look, Andy chuckles.
“Of course you haven’t. Sweetie,” he emphasizes, grinning as you snarl at the nickname. “Enjoy the rest of the event. I know I will.”
And that gif above? That’s Andy making eye contact with you in between guest speakers, riling you up from across the room with a simple wink and smile, because he can.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1,937
Summary: You couldn’t admit that you wanted to make Steve’s birthday special, so instead, you had to put a very you spin on it.
Warnings: A/B/O AU. Explicit language. Mild sexual content. Alpha!Steve. Sassy omega!Reader. Established relationship. Omegaverse dynamic and details (like scenting, mating glands, etc.). Fluff. Feels. Being emotionally constipated. Slight dirty talk.
A/N: Surprise, my lovelies! I’m so happy to join in on @witchywithwhiskey ‘s birthday event for Steeb 🥹 Thank you for hosting and helping me choose which Steve to write, Molly! I hope you enjoy this ❤️
Pound Town Masterlist
Steve turned away from the coffee machine, jumping a little as he found you standing a few feet away, on the other side of the marble kitchen isle, staring at him in a way that was accusatory.
“Who’s sneaking up on who now?” he laughed, his smile faltering as your eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you have something you’d like to tell me, Hercules?” you challenged, your look haughty and knowing and annoyed.
“Um.” Steve frowned in confusion, his eyes glinting with concern as they flickered between yours.
After a moment, you saw something in his gaze shift, his jaw setting slightly as this look of now-or-never sort of determination glimmered in his eyes, making a surge of panic swell within you.
Because oh my god, that wasn’t what you meant!
So before Steve could open his mouth and say something you were not yet ready to hear, you beat him to it, tossing a piece of opened mail on the counter.
Steve blinked down at it, frowning once more as he glanced between you and the paper before him. “...my driver’s license renewal card?”
You huffed, leaning closer and stabbing your finger at the date of birth printed on the card stock. “Your birthday is in a few weeks! And you haven’t mentioned it at all!”
“Oh.” Steve’s big, broad shoulders lifted as he gave you a sheepish look, a rosy flush staining his cheeks and working its way to the tips of his ears. “I just… didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”
“Well what if I want to?” you glared at him. “You were just going to rob me of the full birthday experience?” You made something close to jazz hands that had Steve choking down a laugh because you did seem genuinely irritated by this. “That’s so selfish of you, Hercules,” you finished with a huff, crossing your arms for good measure.
Even though he was able to suppress his laughter, Steve wasn’t able to do the same with his smile. He grinned big, blue eyes twinkling with a very fond sort of mirth as he rounded the counter and pulled you into his arms.
“You’re right, omega, I’m the worst.”
“Truly!” you nodded in agreement, your own lips twitching as Steve interlocked his hands at the small of your back and kissed your cheek.
“Next year, I’ll be sure to set monthly reminders for you about my birthday so it’s always top of mind,” Steve murmured, kissing your other cheek. “It won’t be obnoxious at all.”
You nearly giggled, but were able to maintain your stink eye as you gave him an unimpressed look. “You better,” you hmphed, realizing your mistake a second after you spoke.
That you didn’t object to the fact that you would still be here–with Steve–a year from now.
You hadn’t really thought much about the future since you were a young omega, still brimming with hope and not yet beat down by the state of the world.
But now… after months of being in Steve’s orbit, of… whatever this was between you–because you still weren’t ready to admit that you were together–the thought of this whole thing not being temporary, of it being your future, of Steve being your future…
Well, it was an idea that you didn’t hate.
You could tell by the warmth and softness in Steve’s gaze that he was thinking along the same lines as you, but again, you just couldn’t with what ifs, and big feelings, and more.
Not yet.
“So,” you cleared your throat, pretending to fiddle with the collar of Steve’s t-shirt so you could escape his intese gaze for a moment. “What would the perfect birthday look like to you?”
Steve was quiet for a moment, for more than a moment, and you felt a swirl of anxiety in your stomach, worried that you had upset him by side-stepping the almost emotional landmine.
But when you peeked up at him, Steve’s gaze was just as warm and soft as a moment ago, and he was giving you a small, boyish smile as he replied, “I think I have an idea that we’ll both enjoy.”
A few weeks later, on Steve’s birthday, his idea came to fruition, and for the first time in a very long time–maybe ever–you really were getting the full birthday experience, even if it wasn’t your birthday.
But that didn’t make it any less perfect.
Because Steve had driven you upstate to a small lake house in the middle of the woods.
You couldn’t remember the last time you had been out of the city, and it truly felt like a slice of heaven to be surrounded by nature and quiet and have Steve all to yourself on his special day.
His special day was just part of the week-long vacation he had surprised you with, and he really had planned it all so perfectly. The fridge and pantry were stocked with your favorite prepped foods and takeout, so neither of you would need to cook. And he had gotten a cute little birthday cake, along with lots of other treats, from his favorite bakery.
And now, you were both enjoying the gorgeous tranquility around you, as you and Steve sat on the dock out back of the house, watching the sun set over the lake.
You gave a quiet sigh of contentment as you sank back in the circle of Steve’s arms, allowing your head to fall to the side as his nose skimmed up the side of your throat as he took his time scenting you.
It was actually the first time you two had ever done this–scenting outside of sex–and you didn’t hate it. You were kind of obsessed with it to be honest.
In fact, you had never been so squirmy in your life, your mind pleasantly hazy and quiet for once as you gave a soft chirp when Steve pressed a kiss to your unmarked mating gland.
“You smell so good, omega,” he murmured against your skin, inhaling deeply and purring with satisfaction as he basked in your scent. “You always do.”
Your inner omega chirped up a storm, loving Steve’s attention and admiration as you turned your face so you could nuzzle his nose with yours.
Steve kissed you gently, his eyes so soft and happy as he told you, “This really is the perfect birthday.” His lips touched yours again, lingering this time before he pulled away and breathed, “Thank you, omega. I mean it.”
As he often was, Steve was so earnest in his words and feelings, but something about the sheer affection for you that was coloring his alpha scent had you feeling shy, and a little cranky to be honest.
Because you were still getting used to how much Steve made you feel and want, even after knowing him for months. But you shoved down the minor flare of irritation that you knew was a defense mechanism, because you would not be bitchy with Steve on his birthday.
So instead, you playfully rolled your eyes, murmuring, “You’re such a sap.”
“Only for you,” Steve grinned.
Your scent spiked with your own joy–and something wanting–and he huffed a laugh.
He leaned in and kissed your mating gland, laughing again as you squealed and tried to squirm away, overwhelmed by how sensitive that part of you was, especially under Steve’s attention.
“How do you like it?” he rumbled, eyes twinkling as you huffed and twisted in his hold to glare at him.
For a moment, you just gave him the best stink eye you could muster, and then, you pounced.
Of course you knew that Steve was letting you “attack” him as he fell back against the dock and took you with him. But that didn’t make it any less silly or fun as you wrestled with him until you straddled his hips and had his hands pinned above his head, preening your victory.
“Well now that you’ve got me, what are you gonna do with me?” Steve husked, his eyes noticeably darker as you hovered over him.
For probably the millionth time, you were nearly struck dumb by how gorgeous Steve was. His skin smooth and flawless, his golden hair gleaming in the setting sun and now perfectly mussed. And his eyes–those pretty blue eyes–so expressive as he watched you, as he waited for whatever you deemed came next.
For a long, quiet moment, you just stared at each other, and then your eyes flickered down to another feature of his that you sure did love–those plump pink lips.
Those plump, pink, kissable lips.
“I have a few ideas,” you finally replied before swooping close and capturing his lips with yours.
Steve groaned into your mouth as you traded pinning his wrists for framing his face between your hands. You made your own sound of delight when you felt his touch at your hips, his fingers pressing into you, holding you tight and urging your body against his even more.
Your lips teased and tasted until both you and Steve were breathless, and when you finally pulled back enough to raggedly inhale a gulp of air, you paused for a beat, your eyes dancing as you said, “I want smores.”
“I want more too,” Steve immediately returned. His big hand cradled your cheek and tried to reel you back in for another kiss, but you pulled away.
Giggling as you sat up over him, you shook your head, lips curled into a playful smirk as you tutted, “Keep it in your pants, Hercules. I want smores. You promised we’d make them using that little fire pit on the back deck.”
For a long moment, Steve just stared up at you, uncomprehending, gaping. And it was nearly enough to make you cackle, but then he blinked owlishly, his brain rebooting, and he didn’t look disappointed at all as he said, “Oh. Right.” Instead, he gave your hips a squeeze, his grin boyish as he continued, “I’ll go set it up now.”
You couldn’t help the dreamy sigh that bubbled past your lips as Steve helped you to your feet. Because he really was so good, so perfect.
And he was all yours.
Preening for a different reason now, you looped your arm through Steve’s, pressing close to his side as you two began to slowly walk back up the dock.
You felt mischievous as you glanced over and drank in the still flushed state of Steve’s cheeks, the way his lips were still kiss swollen, too.
“After smores, then I’ll give you more,” you teased, shooting Steve a wicked grin. “You can spend the rest of my night fucking me full of your cum and keeping me on your knot, birthday boy.”
Steve tripped over his own feet, making you burst into laughter as you grabbed onto him to help steady his steps, enjoying the way his flush deepened for an entirely different reason now as he shot you a stink eye.
“You’re such a menace," he muttered, but he was already grinning again as he wrapped his arm around you and tugged you flush against him. “But you’re my menace.”
“Well happy birthday to you,” you chimed, laughing into Steve’s side as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.
He held you just a little bit tighter as he murmured against your hair, “You’re the best birthday present ever,” rumbling his content as you caught his hand with yours, twined your fingers together, and stayed tucked close as you cleared the dock and made your way back to the lake house.
—
Please take a moment to comment or reblog. It means a lot to hear from my readers after sharing a story that I put so much love into. Serial liking without engagement is the quickest way to kill my writing motivation, so please don’t do that. It only takes a moment to show a little love. Thank you 🙏🏻
I no longer do tag lists, but if you'd like to be notified when I post new writing, follow my side blog @sirisshamelesshoelibrary and turn on notifications to get pinged when I drop some new hoe fuel 😘
Please note that I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, or published anywhere other than my Tumblr. I also do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI platforms. Reblogs are most welcome and encouraged though! ❤️
As always, Omega has the correct priorities. S'mores for the win!
I absolutely adore how you write this Steve. Sure, he can be that alpha that makes your knees weak from his presence. But he's also a blushing mess, tripping over his own two feet. 🤭
Omg I’m giggling so much at your reblog 🤭 Something I’m having a lot of fun exploring with these two is how much we affect Steve 😌 So he’s not always suave, but he’s always a total dreamboat 🥹
Summary: A new king means new oaths of allegiance and
Word Count: 1.1k words
A/N: Reader is plus sized, female. No other physical descriptors used.
Warnings: Implied violence, Royal politics. Please let me know if I missed any!
After many painful years of bloodshed, Curtis has finally been crowned king of the realm. after the old king had killed his family, making an example of them for not paying their taxes, Curtis had sworn revenge. He'd even made a pact with the Spirit of the Forest, gaining the power he would need in exchange for making it illegal to hunt in the Great Glen.
The power he'd received made him part beast. Strength, endurance, senses, instincts, all we're improved upon. Especially when he let the beast take over, becoming a creature that inspired fear in his enemies. A creature with a seemingly endless bloodlust.
But now he was king and, aside from honoring his pact, he has no idea what to do.
Amongst the few people Curtis trusts, Gilliam is the only one who has anything akin to court experience.
"I would recommend you marry one of the nobles," he suggests. "The people will see it as you showing an interest in the kingdom itself and the nobles will appreciate some level of status quo. A usurper king who marries a foreign bride is seen as not interested in his own people."
"A bride..." Curtis grumbles.
A mate, the beast thinks.
"We can have each duchy bring their tribute, swear their oaths of fealty. If they're smart, they'll send their daughters to help present those gifts. I'll choose from them."
"Good plan, Your Majesty," Tanya teases. "And I can get you more information on the ladies the day before; who's polite, who can kiss my ass. That sort of thing."
"Good thinking," Curtis nods, hiding how his inner beast is practically frothing at the idea of a mate.
"You're not going!" Father orders. "The new king is rumored to be a beast, a monster! How can I send my daughter, my only child, into his claws?"
"I have to go, Father," you argue, trying to keep your voice level. "You need to stay because Duke Snyder is trying to push you out. If you go to the palace, he'll seize the opportunity. We don't know anything about this new king so we can't trust he'll support you should Snyder make a move "
Father's shoulders slacken in defeat.
"I wish your mother were here to go with you," he sighs.
Placing a hand on your shoulder, Father looks you in the eyes. "I will send the best of guard with you," he promises. "You are my greatest treasure. I will see you safe."
"Thank you, Father. I will get things ready for the trip "
Despite the risks you were far more afraid of King Everett than the journey. Father sent you along under the protection Sir Conrad, well versed in combat and loyal to his last breath. Initially you were supposed to go with both Conrad and his half brother Pine but you insisted Pine stay with Father. He will need the protection and insight of the older brother. And the journey wasn't so far that you worried about Conrad and his small squad becoming too tired to keep you safe.
For added protection you were dressed up as a young man. Should any ask, you were soldiers doing your duty and bringing your Duke's tithe to the new king. The britches are a bit uncomfortable but you're grateful for the protection from prying eyes.
As you make camp the first night you feel truly helpless. You can't assemble a tent. You don't know how to make a fire and you can barely cook. The best you can do is simply stay out of the way.
Then you notice the berry bushes. They're low to the ground, easy to miss. Perhaps you can gather some and share them with your protectors.
Kneeling in front of the bushes you ask in a whisper, "may I be allowed to pick some of your berries? My friends and I would love to try them as they taste much better than travel rations." Many would consider you crazy but you're not one to give up wisdom your mother taught you before her passing.
Several berries drop and you make sure to thank the bushes before gathering them up. Though Sir Conrad warns you against going off alone again, he does not begrudge your addition to the night's meal.
The next day's journey is cut short by a rainstorm. It's too dangerous to travel and camp must be made up early. It's slow, wet, tiring work and the rains are too heavy to light a fire to warm up with.
In the privacy of your own tent you shiver in just your undergarments as you manage to light a lamp. Your blankets are a small comfort as you force yourself to drink water and eat some of the travel rations. All you can do is wait for the rain to let up.
Amidst the thunderous rain you hear mewling cries and they're getting closer.
Carefully you take a peek through the flaps of your tent. It could be a predator luring you in, but it could also be a poor creature in need of shelter. You need to keep the light from the lantern minimal for your safety and dignity.
As the mewling gets louder you're able to make out a baby fox.
"Oh you poor thing," you gently call to it. "Please, share my tent. We'll get you to your mother when the rain stops."
Lifting the tent flap more, the kit is drawn to the light of the lamp and quickly joins you.
"Here, I have some food as well. Not as good as fresh game, I know. But you'll need your strength if you're going to find your mama."
The kit accepts the food offered, seeming to eat it too fast to taste.
"Let me get one of my cloaks so we can try to dry you off. Must be hard to keep warm when you're soaked."
After you've dried off the little fox to the best of your ability it curls up in your lap and falls asleep. You feel honored and hum it a lullaby you remember your mother singing to you.
"Your Grace! We need to get an early start on the day to make up for yesterday."
Conrad's voice pierces through your slumber and you quickly sit up.
"I'm up! Give me just a few minutes to dress!"
As you get up to get dressed you quickly look around for the kit only to see that it's gone. You're disappointed but hopeful that, once the rain stopped, it went and found its mother.
It isn't until late in the morning, well on your way to the castle, that you spot fox and her three kits. Your heart leaps at the thought that one of them was the one you shared your tent with.
I think I'll take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at 3
Warning: implied violence or roughness, fear, dark content, and all around sexiness.
I only wrote this as a teaser for @honeybee-reads
I always see this gif and wanna write something so here we go.
Hi! Please please please reblog and leave some feedback if you read! I love you 💕
You walk on your tip toes, breath bated, fingertips hot, and lip tender from anxious nibbling. Ahead, you see the set of broad shoulders straining the ribbed fabric, the chafe of newspaper pages turning, the low and long exhale of a sigh. Frank’s dark head of hair doesn’t move as he keeps his head tilted to his diligent perusal of the weeklies.
You carefully let the air out of your clogged chest as you near him. His head moves slightly and a growl rolls in his throat. The steam rising from the mug scents the air.
“Good woman.” He drawls.
His voice startles you, quiet as he is, and the porcelain slips from your fingers before you can angle it over the table. You gasp and watch the catastrophe in slow motion. The coffee splashes before the cup hits the floor and turns to shards. You gasp and touch your neck with your warmed fingers, the flesh tender still.
“Oh! I’m sorry!” You squeak. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t meaning…”
He hushes you as your tills spill without a thought and bubble in your apologies. He sets the newspaper flat and smoothes it under his coarse hands. The roughened fingers that you can feel still crawling against your soft skin.
You suck in a wet breath and pout, looking at the mess at your feet. Frank turns in his chair and stands, another silty exhale puffed from deep in his gut. He reaches for you. You quiver and he shushes you again.
He pushes through the puddled coffee and fragments of the mug with his slipper and bends to scoop you up. He backs up and sits with you in his lap. You wriggle but still as another growl climbs up his throat.
“You hurt? Any cuts?” He bends against you as he holds you sideways in his lap and examines your feet. You curl your wet toes and shake your head.
“‘At’s good,” his grit doesn’t catch the fist consonant. “It’s alright, honey. Don’t you shake like that. I ain’t mad.”
He takes your hand and unlatches it from the other. He lifts it and looks it over. He tuts and brings it to his lips. He drags his mouth along the hot spot just above your knuckle.
“What’s ‘at?” He growls as his hot breath sears the burn.
“I… I was boilin’ the water, sir, and—”
“Now I asked if you were hurt, sugar pie,” He rubs his wide thumb above the burn.
“It’s only a small one.” You mope. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Mm, now, you don’t be sorry, honey.” He guides your hand up to his cheek and has you pet his thick beard. He leans into your touch. “Now, honey,” he lets go of your hand and cradles your chin. He draws you close and pecks your lips. “You go on and try again. Coffee smells real good.” He stands, still holding you in his arms. “And I’ll clean this up.”
He puts you down away from the broken mug. You bite your lip and he snarls. You stop yourself from the nervous habit.
“But sir, I can clean it–”
“Nah, sugar. You go on. Be a good girl and get me a fresh cup. I’m gonna need it.”
Who's this and why does he find you in a bikini on the private beach?
xoxo Wetnessday anon 💦
Hi, my lovely Wetnessday Anon ☺️🩷
Cooked mermaid
Steve Rogers x female reader
warnings: Soft barely dark Steve (just a smidge dark, tiny bit). Meet cute. Bikini mishap. Cheeky Steve.
word count: 1.4k
Most people viewed seaside towns as a place to go on vacation, or to invest in properties to increase their wealth. Especially in a place like this, where the stunning beach houses studded the coastline like diamonds on a golden collar.
For you, a seaside area full of rich residences and beach attractions meant a potentially better salary in the summer season.
The money you'd make here, you planned on using to get yourself into the best cooking academy there was. You were already a gifted cook, but the title of a chef with a flourish from a distinguished institute would open many doors for you.
You just had to suffer a few months slaving in the kitchen of a popular restaurant, redoing dishes for snobbish trust fund narcissists and influencers who tended to send something back for merely not matching the color scheme they wanted.
But the money was really worth it, so you gritted your teeth and perfected each dish.
The other upside of burning your fingers for bored elites was the beach and the sea.
It took you two weeks to find a perfect spot for yourself. Not anywhere on the public beach that was overcrowded and noisy. It was a very long walk, all past the private beaches with their big signs announcing no one was welcomed there, but you finally found your little heaven.
A beach with no people, as well no warning signs telling you to fuck off before a bitchy lady of the house throws your poor ass off and threatens you with firing from your job for lingering on her pristine, rich sand.
Your tranquil spot was all sea, beach and a wide span of forest. A wild road led through the grasses and trees deep into the woods, probably made by the locals from a nearby village, who might come to this part of the beach, avoiding the town itself.
With a happy sigh, you spread out your blanket and tossed down your bag. You shimmied out of your dress and stretched happily. A few breaths of the warm, salty breeze and you ran for the water with a giggle.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Steve paused mid-step, taking a deep breath and filling his lungs with the familiar scent of pine mixed with sea salt.
He used to run across these woods as a kid, picking pine cones to later throw into the bonfire, or taking them straight to the beach and using them to adorn the sandcastles that he built.
These lands belonged to his family for decades. His grandfather built and rented the first houses along the coast, later developing them into a business that secured the family name for years to come.
It loaded the second branch of the family business, too. On the other side of the sea - darker than the deep waters, with income as golden as the sand.
Focusing on managing the business and politics of certain organizations forced Steve to stay in the city most of the time, or to travel across the continents.
It's been over a year since he took a few days to come here.
Barely after arriving, he changed his clothes and took his two dogs to once again find his peace and quiet. Baron and King ran between the trees like wild pups, losing their usual lethal intensity that matched Steve's persona in the city.
But suddenly they paused.
Steve noticed how both dogs' heads titled slightly, then they were off running down the sandy path toward the beach.
They didn't barge onto the beach barking, but they went straight for a splash of color that was someone's blanket and belongings on it. Baron snatched something into his mouth and turned back towards Steve.
King remained in place, taking watch.
Delicate, yellow fabric that Steve picked from between Baron's teeth turned out to be a short dress. Delicate, with a faint scent of sweet, juicy perfume.
Then a loud screech followed by a burst of laughter snatched his attention.
Steve already figured out someone was chilling on his beach, but he didn't expect the sight to entertain him as much.
You were coming out of the sea, wet and radiating happiness. The screeching and laughter surely came from you, and it took Steve a second to realize what caused it.
Your bikini top was untied; bubble pink triangles barely covering your breasts now that the string was loose.
When a wave hit and ruined your top, that's when you squeaked in surprise. Then you simply laughed at the situation.
You didn't bother to cover yourself with your arms. You were still convinced there was no one here, that you were all alone on this wonderful beach and thus losing your bikini top was rather hilarious, not embarrassing.
It took you a few steps onto the warm sand to notice a presence near your blanket. Two dogs that looked massive and potentially able to maul you, though they stood in place, just watching you like you were a silly spectacle.
And a man.
Taller than you, with an impressive body clad in simple sweats and a t-shirt. A change from all the pressed linen and old money aesthetic most men in the seaside town presented.
He was holding your dress in one hand, his other hand tucked into his pocket. His eyes twinkled in amusement as he looked directly at you. Not even bothering to hide the fact he checked out your boobs.
"Not only it's not a nudist beach," his voice was pleasantly masculine - deep, yet velvety, "it's also a private one. So it's a double misdemeanor."
For a few seconds you just stared at him, before your brain caught up with the situation.
With a squeak (which Steve found most cute), you crossed your arms over your chest to cover yourself.
You made a step forward, but paused when you remembered about the dogs. They still didn't move from their spots. Not a single growl came.
"It's okay, they won't harm you." Steve assured you. "Not until they're ordered to. And I don't think your little crime deserves a punishment so gruesome, pretty mermaid."
He handed you your dress without any disgusting bargaining, or lewd comments. But he did keep his eyes on you when you turned your back to him and slid it on, covering yourself.
"I didn't know it's a private beach. There's no sign." You blurted out, facing him again.
"Ah." He nodded, calm and friendly. "Rarely anyone comes so far out here. They stick to their tiny slabs of ownership. Others simply know not to go beyond the red pine."
He motioned at the characteristic tree in the forest line along the beach. Not only it was somehow a rusty red color, but also the pine was curved forward at the bottom, as if the tree was kneeling.
"You a tourist?" Steve asked, scratching Baron on the head when the dog nudged his leg.
"Not exactly." You rubbed your hands over your thighs nervously, feeling uncertain, as well realizing your dress was starting to soak up all the water from your body.
Covered or not, your nipples were going to be visible any second now.
"I work in one of the restaurants for the summer," you admitted.
"A cook?" At your nod Steve smiled. "How about you tell me which restaurant you work at, so I can come for a meal and you serve it to me yourself. As penance for trespassing."
You hesitated. The man didn't appear bothered by your presence on the beach, turning it into a harmless situation. But what if he was a vindictive asshole, who would come to your workplace and get you fired?
Studying him for a moment, you couldn't find it in yourself to be that suspicious of him. Perhaps, you were a little blinded by his stupidly handsome face, those blue eyes you could get mesmerised by, the smile that threatened to melt away your bikini bottom.
You told him where you worked, as well the fact you had a day off, but would be back there tomorrow.
Steve was going to be there, just like he said. And you would prepare his meal and bring it to his table with a shy smile. The main chef, as well as the restaurant's owner, would hear high praises about your skills.
Steve would be coming to that place every day for a whole week, asking for you specifically to make his meals and serve them. Each chunk of interaction and conversation at a time, he would be preparing a detailed plan regarding your future.
Not changing it for you, simply... capturing it in his own bubble.
Hi, lovey! I am hanging in there. Work is sucking so much right now, but I’m trying to just not care lol. I hope you’re well ❤️
Now for this ask!! It took a hot minute for a good idea to click in my brain, but once it did, I cackled 🤣
Because that is MYB!Andy crashing a local business networking event that he overheard MYB!Ari’s feisty handful of a Reader chatting about with a few customers while outside of her shop one day.
And Andy figured, you know what? You deserve some payback for sticking your nose in his business and throwing wrenches in his plans. The very least he can do is grace you with his unwelcomed presence.
Again.
So when Andy shows up at this networking event that you both know he would normally never go to—and doesn’t need for his kind of connections,—you are fuming. Livid. About to blow a fucking gasket.
Andy can practically see the smoke coming out of your ears. And since you’re currently chatting with a few business council members, he knows you have no choice but to behave and play nice when he walks up to you and acts so friendly and familiar with you.
Saying your name with warmth and pulling you in to kiss your cheek, just able to stifle his belly laugh when he sees your eye twitch as you paste this terribly fake and pained smile on your face.
Sensing Andy’s importance, the business council folks are all aflutter and insist you introduce them to Andy, and when they talk about how nice it must be to be new neighbors, Andy just smiles so big as he nods along.
“She was so beyond welcoming, I couldn’t have asked for a lovelier and more respectful neighbor.”
Andy does finally laugh once it’s just the two of you, and you give him the nastiest stink eye he’s ever received as you hiss, “How dare you infest a place filled with honest, humble, non-murderous business owners with your organized crime cooties.”
“You have me all wrong, you know,” Andy smiles at you, his gaze looking as amused as that first day you met.
“Doubt it.”
Andy just hums, moving to step past you but pausing close, invading your space and smirking as you squirm and death glare him.
“Have you ever considered that the best, most strategic thing you could do for your business—and its success—is become my ally?”
When you just press your lips into a firm line and give him a wary look, Andy chuckles.
“Of course you haven’t. Sweetie,” he emphasizes, grinning as you snarl at the nickname. “Enjoy the rest of the event. I know I will.”
And that gif above? That’s Andy making eye contact with you in between guest speakers, riling you up from across the room with a simple wink and smile, because he can.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1,937
Summary: You couldn’t admit that you wanted to make Steve’s birthday special, so instead, you had to put a very you spin on it.
Warnings: A/B/O AU. Explicit language. Mild sexual content. Alpha!Steve. Sassy omega!Reader. Established relationship. Omegaverse dynamic and details (like scenting, mating glands, etc.). Fluff. Feels. Being emotionally constipated. Slight dirty talk.
A/N: Surprise, my lovelies! I’m so happy to join in on @witchywithwhiskey ‘s birthday event for Steeb 🥹 Thank you for hosting and helping me choose which Steve to write, Molly! I hope you enjoy this ❤️
Pound Town Masterlist
Steve turned away from the coffee machine, jumping a little as he found you standing a few feet away, on the other side of the marble kitchen isle, staring at him in a way that was accusatory.
“Who’s sneaking up on who now?” he laughed, his smile faltering as your eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you have something you’d like to tell me, Hercules?” you challenged, your look haughty and knowing and annoyed.
“Um.” Steve frowned in confusion, his eyes glinting with concern as they flickered between yours.
After a moment, you saw something in his gaze shift, his jaw setting slightly as this look of now-or-never sort of determination glimmered in his eyes, making a surge of panic swell within you.
Because oh my god, that wasn’t what you meant!
So before Steve could open his mouth and say something you were not yet ready to hear, you beat him to it, tossing a piece of opened mail on the counter.
Steve blinked down at it, frowning once more as he glanced between you and the paper before him. “...my driver’s license renewal card?”
You huffed, leaning closer and stabbing your finger at the date of birth printed on the card stock. “Your birthday is in a few weeks! And you haven’t mentioned it at all!”
“Oh.” Steve’s big, broad shoulders lifted as he gave you a sheepish look, a rosy flush staining his cheeks and working its way to the tips of his ears. “I just… didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”
“Well what if I want to?” you glared at him. “You were just going to rob me of the full birthday experience?” You made something close to jazz hands that had Steve choking down a laugh because you did seem genuinely irritated by this. “That’s so selfish of you, Hercules,” you finished with a huff, crossing your arms for good measure.
Even though he was able to suppress his laughter, Steve wasn’t able to do the same with his smile. He grinned big, blue eyes twinkling with a very fond sort of mirth as he rounded the counter and pulled you into his arms.
“You’re right, omega, I’m the worst.”
“Truly!” you nodded in agreement, your own lips twitching as Steve interlocked his hands at the small of your back and kissed your cheek.
“Next year, I’ll be sure to set monthly reminders for you about my birthday so it’s always top of mind,” Steve murmured, kissing your other cheek. “It won’t be obnoxious at all.”
You nearly giggled, but were able to maintain your stink eye as you gave him an unimpressed look. “You better,” you hmphed, realizing your mistake a second after you spoke.
That you didn’t object to the fact that you would still be here–with Steve–a year from now.
You hadn’t really thought much about the future since you were a young omega, still brimming with hope and not yet beat down by the state of the world.
But now… after months of being in Steve’s orbit, of… whatever this was between you–because you still weren’t ready to admit that you were together–the thought of this whole thing not being temporary, of it being your future, of Steve being your future…
Well, it was an idea that you didn’t hate.
You could tell by the warmth and softness in Steve’s gaze that he was thinking along the same lines as you, but again, you just couldn’t with what ifs, and big feelings, and more.
Not yet.
“So,” you cleared your throat, pretending to fiddle with the collar of Steve’s t-shirt so you could escape his intese gaze for a moment. “What would the perfect birthday look like to you?”
Steve was quiet for a moment, for more than a moment, and you felt a swirl of anxiety in your stomach, worried that you had upset him by side-stepping the almost emotional landmine.
But when you peeked up at him, Steve’s gaze was just as warm and soft as a moment ago, and he was giving you a small, boyish smile as he replied, “I think I have an idea that we’ll both enjoy.”
A few weeks later, on Steve’s birthday, his idea came to fruition, and for the first time in a very long time–maybe ever–you really were getting the full birthday experience, even if it wasn’t your birthday.
But that didn’t make it any less perfect.
Because Steve had driven you upstate to a small lake house in the middle of the woods.
You couldn’t remember the last time you had been out of the city, and it truly felt like a slice of heaven to be surrounded by nature and quiet and have Steve all to yourself on his special day.
His special day was just part of the week-long vacation he had surprised you with, and he really had planned it all so perfectly. The fridge and pantry were stocked with your favorite prepped foods and takeout, so neither of you would need to cook. And he had gotten a cute little birthday cake, along with lots of other treats, from his favorite bakery.
And now, you were both enjoying the gorgeous tranquility around you, as you and Steve sat on the dock out back of the house, watching the sun set over the lake.
You gave a quiet sigh of contentment as you sank back in the circle of Steve’s arms, allowing your head to fall to the side as his nose skimmed up the side of your throat as he took his time scenting you.
It was actually the first time you two had ever done this–scenting outside of sex–and you didn’t hate it. You were kind of obsessed with it to be honest.
In fact, you had never been so squirmy in your life, your mind pleasantly hazy and quiet for once as you gave a soft chirp when Steve pressed a kiss to your unmarked mating gland.
“You smell so good, omega,” he murmured against your skin, inhaling deeply and purring with satisfaction as he basked in your scent. “You always do.”
Your inner omega chirped up a storm, loving Steve’s attention and admiration as you turned your face so you could nuzzle his nose with yours.
Steve kissed you gently, his eyes so soft and happy as he told you, “This really is the perfect birthday.” His lips touched yours again, lingering this time before he pulled away and breathed, “Thank you, omega. I mean it.”
As he often was, Steve was so earnest in his words and feelings, but something about the sheer affection for you that was coloring his alpha scent had you feeling shy, and a little cranky to be honest.
Because you were still getting used to how much Steve made you feel and want, even after knowing him for months. But you shoved down the minor flare of irritation that you knew was a defense mechanism, because you would not be bitchy with Steve on his birthday.
So instead, you playfully rolled your eyes, murmuring, “You’re such a sap.”
“Only for you,” Steve grinned.
Your scent spiked with your own joy–and something wanting–and he huffed a laugh.
He leaned in and kissed your mating gland, laughing again as you squealed and tried to squirm away, overwhelmed by how sensitive that part of you was, especially under Steve’s attention.
“How do you like it?” he rumbled, eyes twinkling as you huffed and twisted in his hold to glare at him.
For a moment, you just gave him the best stink eye you could muster, and then, you pounced.
Of course you knew that Steve was letting you “attack” him as he fell back against the dock and took you with him. But that didn’t make it any less silly or fun as you wrestled with him until you straddled his hips and had his hands pinned above his head, preening your victory.
“Well now that you’ve got me, what are you gonna do with me?” Steve husked, his eyes noticeably darker as you hovered over him.
For probably the millionth time, you were nearly struck dumb by how gorgeous Steve was. His skin smooth and flawless, his golden hair gleaming in the setting sun and now perfectly mussed. And his eyes–those pretty blue eyes–so expressive as he watched you, as he waited for whatever you deemed came next.
For a long, quiet moment, you just stared at each other, and then your eyes flickered down to another feature of his that you sure did love–those plump pink lips.
Those plump, pink, kissable lips.
“I have a few ideas,” you finally replied before swooping close and capturing his lips with yours.
Steve groaned into your mouth as you traded pinning his wrists for framing his face between your hands. You made your own sound of delight when you felt his touch at your hips, his fingers pressing into you, holding you tight and urging your body against his even more.
Your lips teased and tasted until both you and Steve were breathless, and when you finally pulled back enough to raggedly inhale a gulp of air, you paused for a beat, your eyes dancing as you said, “I want smores.”
“I want more too,” Steve immediately returned. His big hand cradled your cheek and tried to reel you back in for another kiss, but you pulled away.
Giggling as you sat up over him, you shook your head, lips curled into a playful smirk as you tutted, “Keep it in your pants, Hercules. I want smores. You promised we’d make them using that little fire pit on the back deck.”
For a long moment, Steve just stared up at you, uncomprehending, gaping. And it was nearly enough to make you cackle, but then he blinked owlishly, his brain rebooting, and he didn’t look disappointed at all as he said, “Oh. Right.” Instead, he gave your hips a squeeze, his grin boyish as he continued, “I’ll go set it up now.”
You couldn’t help the dreamy sigh that bubbled past your lips as Steve helped you to your feet. Because he really was so good, so perfect.
And he was all yours.
Preening for a different reason now, you looped your arm through Steve’s, pressing close to his side as you two began to slowly walk back up the dock.
You felt mischievous as you glanced over and drank in the still flushed state of Steve’s cheeks, the way his lips were still kiss swollen, too.
“After smores, then I’ll give you more,” you teased, shooting Steve a wicked grin. “You can spend the rest of my night fucking me full of your cum and keeping me on your knot, birthday boy.”
Steve tripped over his own feet, making you burst into laughter as you grabbed onto him to help steady his steps, enjoying the way his flush deepened for an entirely different reason now as he shot you a stink eye.
“You’re such a menace," he muttered, but he was already grinning again as he wrapped his arm around you and tugged you flush against him. “But you’re my menace.”
“Well happy birthday to you,” you chimed, laughing into Steve’s side as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.
He held you just a little bit tighter as he murmured against your hair, “You’re the best birthday present ever,” rumbling his content as you caught his hand with yours, twined your fingers together, and stayed tucked close as you cleared the dock and made your way back to the lake house.
—
Please take a moment to comment or reblog. It means a lot to hear from my readers after sharing a story that I put so much love into. Serial liking without engagement is the quickest way to kill my writing motivation, so please don’t do that. It only takes a moment to show a little love. Thank you 🙏🏻
I no longer do tag lists, but if you'd like to be notified when I post new writing, follow my side blog @sirisshamelesshoelibrary and turn on notifications to get pinged when I drop some new hoe fuel 😘
Please note that I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, or published anywhere other than my Tumblr. I also do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI platforms. Reblogs are most welcome and encouraged though! ❤️
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1,937
Summary: You couldn’t admit that you wanted to make Steve’s birthday special, so instead, you had to put a very you spin on it.
Warnings: A/B/O AU. Explicit language. Mild sexual content. Alpha!Steve. Sassy omega!Reader. Established relationship. Omegaverse dynamic and details (like scenting, mating glands, etc.). Fluff. Feels. Being emotionally constipated. Slight dirty talk.
A/N: Surprise, my lovelies! I’m so happy to join in on @witchywithwhiskey ‘s birthday event for Steeb 🥹 Thank you for hosting and helping me choose which Steve to write, Molly! I hope you enjoy this ❤️
Pound Town Masterlist
Steve turned away from the coffee machine, jumping a little as he found you standing a few feet away, on the other side of the marble kitchen isle, staring at him in a way that was accusatory.
“Who’s sneaking up on who now?” he laughed, his smile faltering as your eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you have something you’d like to tell me, Hercules?” you challenged, your look haughty and knowing and annoyed.
“Um.” Steve frowned in confusion, his eyes glinting with concern as they flickered between yours.
After a moment, you saw something in his gaze shift, his jaw setting slightly as this look of now-or-never sort of determination glimmered in his eyes, making a surge of panic swell within you.
Because oh my god, that wasn’t what you meant!
So before Steve could open his mouth and say something you were not yet ready to hear, you beat him to it, tossing a piece of opened mail on the counter.
Steve blinked down at it, frowning once more as he glanced between you and the paper before him. “...my driver’s license renewal card?”
You huffed, leaning closer and stabbing your finger at the date of birth printed on the card stock. “Your birthday is in a few weeks! And you haven’t mentioned it at all!”
“Oh.” Steve’s big, broad shoulders lifted as he gave you a sheepish look, a rosy flush staining his cheeks and working its way to the tips of his ears. “I just… didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”
“Well what if I want to?” you glared at him. “You were just going to rob me of the full birthday experience?” You made something close to jazz hands that had Steve choking down a laugh because you did seem genuinely irritated by this. “That’s so selfish of you, Hercules,” you finished with a huff, crossing your arms for good measure.
Even though he was able to suppress his laughter, Steve wasn’t able to do the same with his smile. He grinned big, blue eyes twinkling with a very fond sort of mirth as he rounded the counter and pulled you into his arms.
“You’re right, omega, I’m the worst.”
“Truly!” you nodded in agreement, your own lips twitching as Steve interlocked his hands at the small of your back and kissed your cheek.
“Next year, I’ll be sure to set monthly reminders for you about my birthday so it’s always top of mind,” Steve murmured, kissing your other cheek. “It won’t be obnoxious at all.”
You nearly giggled, but were able to maintain your stink eye as you gave him an unimpressed look. “You better,” you hmphed, realizing your mistake a second after you spoke.
That you didn’t object to the fact that you would still be here–with Steve–a year from now.
You hadn’t really thought much about the future since you were a young omega, still brimming with hope and not yet beat down by the state of the world.
But now… after months of being in Steve’s orbit, of… whatever this was between you–because you still weren’t ready to admit that you were together–the thought of this whole thing not being temporary, of it being your future, of Steve being your future…
Well, it was an idea that you didn’t hate.
You could tell by the warmth and softness in Steve’s gaze that he was thinking along the same lines as you, but again, you just couldn’t with what ifs, and big feelings, and more.
Not yet.
“So,” you cleared your throat, pretending to fiddle with the collar of Steve’s t-shirt so you could escape his intese gaze for a moment. “What would the perfect birthday look like to you?”
Steve was quiet for a moment, for more than a moment, and you felt a swirl of anxiety in your stomach, worried that you had upset him by side-stepping the almost emotional landmine.
But when you peeked up at him, Steve’s gaze was just as warm and soft as a moment ago, and he was giving you a small, boyish smile as he replied, “I think I have an idea that we’ll both enjoy.”
A few weeks later, on Steve’s birthday, his idea came to fruition, and for the first time in a very long time–maybe ever–you really were getting the full birthday experience, even if it wasn’t your birthday.
But that didn’t make it any less perfect.
Because Steve had driven you upstate to a small lake house in the middle of the woods.
You couldn’t remember the last time you had been out of the city, and it truly felt like a slice of heaven to be surrounded by nature and quiet and have Steve all to yourself on his special day.
His special day was just part of the week-long vacation he had surprised you with, and he really had planned it all so perfectly. The fridge and pantry were stocked with your favorite prepped foods and takeout, so neither of you would need to cook. And he had gotten a cute little birthday cake, along with lots of other treats, from his favorite bakery.
And now, you were both enjoying the gorgeous tranquility around you, as you and Steve sat on the dock out back of the house, watching the sun set over the lake.
You gave a quiet sigh of contentment as you sank back in the circle of Steve’s arms, allowing your head to fall to the side as his nose skimmed up the side of your throat as he took his time scenting you.
It was actually the first time you two had ever done this–scenting outside of sex–and you didn’t hate it. You were kind of obsessed with it to be honest.
In fact, you had never been so squirmy in your life, your mind pleasantly hazy and quiet for once as you gave a soft chirp when Steve pressed a kiss to your unmarked mating gland.
“You smell so good, omega,” he murmured against your skin, inhaling deeply and purring with satisfaction as he basked in your scent. “You always do.”
Your inner omega chirped up a storm, loving Steve’s attention and admiration as you turned your face so you could nuzzle his nose with yours.
Steve kissed you gently, his eyes so soft and happy as he told you, “This really is the perfect birthday.” His lips touched yours again, lingering this time before he pulled away and breathed, “Thank you, omega. I mean it.”
As he often was, Steve was so earnest in his words and feelings, but something about the sheer affection for you that was coloring his alpha scent had you feeling shy, and a little cranky to be honest.
Because you were still getting used to how much Steve made you feel and want, even after knowing him for months. But you shoved down the minor flare of irritation that you knew was a defense mechanism, because you would not be bitchy with Steve on his birthday.
So instead, you playfully rolled your eyes, murmuring, “You’re such a sap.”
“Only for you,” Steve grinned.
Your scent spiked with your own joy–and something wanting–and he huffed a laugh.
He leaned in and kissed your mating gland, laughing again as you squealed and tried to squirm away, overwhelmed by how sensitive that part of you was, especially under Steve’s attention.
“How do you like it?” he rumbled, eyes twinkling as you huffed and twisted in his hold to glare at him.
For a moment, you just gave him the best stink eye you could muster, and then, you pounced.
Of course you knew that Steve was letting you “attack” him as he fell back against the dock and took you with him. But that didn’t make it any less silly or fun as you wrestled with him until you straddled his hips and had his hands pinned above his head, preening your victory.
“Well now that you’ve got me, what are you gonna do with me?” Steve husked, his eyes noticeably darker as you hovered over him.
For probably the millionth time, you were nearly struck dumb by how gorgeous Steve was. His skin smooth and flawless, his golden hair gleaming in the setting sun and now perfectly mussed. And his eyes–those pretty blue eyes–so expressive as he watched you, as he waited for whatever you deemed came next.
For a long, quiet moment, you just stared at each other, and then your eyes flickered down to another feature of his that you sure did love–those plump pink lips.
Those plump, pink, kissable lips.
“I have a few ideas,” you finally replied before swooping close and capturing his lips with yours.
Steve groaned into your mouth as you traded pinning his wrists for framing his face between your hands. You made your own sound of delight when you felt his touch at your hips, his fingers pressing into you, holding you tight and urging your body against his even more.
Your lips teased and tasted until both you and Steve were breathless, and when you finally pulled back enough to raggedly inhale a gulp of air, you paused for a beat, your eyes dancing as you said, “I want smores.”
“I want more too,” Steve immediately returned. His big hand cradled your cheek and tried to reel you back in for another kiss, but you pulled away.
Giggling as you sat up over him, you shook your head, lips curled into a playful smirk as you tutted, “Keep it in your pants, Hercules. I want smores. You promised we’d make them using that little fire pit on the back deck.”
For a long moment, Steve just stared up at you, uncomprehending, gaping. And it was nearly enough to make you cackle, but then he blinked owlishly, his brain rebooting, and he didn’t look disappointed at all as he said, “Oh. Right.” Instead, he gave your hips a squeeze, his grin boyish as he continued, “I’ll go set it up now.”
You couldn’t help the dreamy sigh that bubbled past your lips as Steve helped you to your feet. Because he really was so good, so perfect.
And he was all yours.
Preening for a different reason now, you looped your arm through Steve’s, pressing close to his side as you two began to slowly walk back up the dock.
You felt mischievous as you glanced over and drank in the still flushed state of Steve’s cheeks, the way his lips were still kiss swollen, too.
“After smores, then I’ll give you more,” you teased, shooting Steve a wicked grin. “You can spend the rest of my night fucking me full of your cum and keeping me on your knot, birthday boy.”
Steve tripped over his own feet, making you burst into laughter as you grabbed onto him to help steady his steps, enjoying the way his flush deepened for an entirely different reason now as he shot you a stink eye.
“You’re such a menace," he muttered, but he was already grinning again as he wrapped his arm around you and tugged you flush against him. “But you’re my menace.”
“Well happy birthday to you,” you chimed, laughing into Steve’s side as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.
He held you just a little bit tighter as he murmured against your hair, “You’re the best birthday present ever,” rumbling his content as you caught his hand with yours, twined your fingers together, and stayed tucked close as you cleared the dock and made your way back to the lake house.
—
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Being delivered to mafia Steve as a birthday present - with a pretty bow (and nothing else)
Oh yesssss 🥴😮💨🫠
I’m imagining you kneeling on the floor in the middle of his study, trembling and silently crying as you hug yourself and try to cover as much of your nudity as possible.
You can’t help but recoil when Steve’s fingers tickle along your bare shoulder as he slowly circles you—the penultimate predator.
He tuts at your attempted retreat from his touch as he comes to a stop in front of you. His fingers catch beneath your chin, not only to tilt your tear-stained face up, forcing you to meet his gaze, but to reel you in closer, too, so you’re only inches away from his pelvis.
“You’ll learn very quickly not to try to run away from me, sweetheart… I don’t take kindly to defiance, no matter how small the act.” His touch was surprisingly gentle as he drew his knuckles down your cheek. “And something tells me that a delicate thing like you wouldn’t be very good at enduring my brand of punishment.”
You shudder at the steel in Steve’s voice, the hard glint in his eyes.
His outright threat.
Your breath hitches on an aborted sob as he drags you even closer to him, until your face is pressed against the growing bulge at the front of his slacks.
But this time, you don’t try to pull away. Swallowing down your tears, you force yourself to go pliant and sink against him even more.
Steve huffs a quiet, delighted laugh, his voice much warmer now as he coos, “Good girl.”
This Steve has been eating away at my whore brain 🥴 So, naturally, I had this thot…
You’re perched on Steve’s lap at one of his clubs so he can steal moments of enjoying you in between business—how good you look in the dress he picked out, how soft the skin of your bare thighs are beneath his fingers, how you’re trying so hard not to curl in on yourself and risk his displeasure even though he can tell you’re extremely uncomfortable.
God, you’re just so fucking sweet.
Needless to say, Steve is enjoying himself. Until the business associate across the table from the two of you makes the mistake of looking at you. Of commenting on Steve’s pretty new toy. Of reaching out and brazenly touching your cheek.
Which is the last thing he ever does with that hand.
Or at all.
It happens so quickly, Steve shifting you off his lap, pulling the largest knife you’ve ever seen from behind his back, and stabbing it through the asshole’s hand, pinning it to the table top.
But that isn’t enough retribution for Steve. Before you can blink, he’s on his feet, reaching across the table, and snapping the man’s neck with his bare hands.
You watch in horror as his former business associate slumps across the table.
Dead.
Right out in the open, surrounded by a club full of people, very few of whom seem even a tiny bit surprised or disturbed by this display.
You’re not quick enough—or in your right mind enough—to suppress the terrified whimper that bubbles up as Steve retakes his seat and sweeps you back onto his lap.
“Shhh,” he shushes you with a gentle caress up your side. Until his big hand—one of which he just used to kill someone—is softly cradling the side of your neck and reeling you close.
Steve nuzzles your cheek with a quiet hum, breathing you in on deep breath before letting it out on a sigh.
His fingers tickle beneath your chin, turning your wide, disbelieving gaze his way, and he grins at your complete and utter shock.
“No one touches what’s mine,” he winks before running his thumb along your lower lip then reaching for his drink.
chants at myself: Don't be turned on by it, don't be turned on by it, don't be turned on- 😳🫣
This Steve is PP!Curtis' cousin. And I'm so fucking weak and whimpery for him. Even my brat ass doesn't feel bold enough to brat, just want to be a very obedient toy.
