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.
↠ Broken Home (Frank Adler x F!Reader x Nick Vaughan)
↠ 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)
*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.
↠ I do NOT give permission for any of my work to be reposted, translated, published to any other sites or platforms beyond my Tumblr, or fed into AI machines. If you see my work elsewhere, it has been stolen, so please let me know. Thank you 🙏🏻
↠ 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.
↠ I no longer do tag lists. Instead you can follow my side blog @sirisshamelesshoelibrary and turn on notifications. I only reblog new writings there so it’s easy to keep track of new stories, drabbles, etc.
↠ Am I spamming you? If you want to filter my reblog responses, you can filter the tag “siri writes reply” so I’m not clogging up your feed with my love and appreciation for my readers.
↠ Writing resources: Need some writing tips? Check out this writing resources masterlist!
↠ Fic & writer recs: Check out my fic & writer recs masterlist!
↠ 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! 😘
Jake's younger. He always looked up to Steve, it's partially why he joined the Army too. They're supportive and protective of each other. Steve tends to call Jake to simply ask if he ate some vegetables that week 😆
My brain went somewhere you probably weren't expecting with this. Canonically Jake has to pretend he died in combat and I'm just thinking of Steve getting word that his little brother is dead.
He cries in private, wanting to be strong for their sister and niece. But at the funeral, closed casket because there was no body, he can't hold back. He was supposed to be Jake's protector, to keep his family together.
When Jake turns up again, Steve doesn't give him time to explain before grabbing him in a big bear hug and just sobbing. He doesn't let go for a long time because he was so scared he'd lost his little brother. That he'd failed his most important mission.
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! ❤️
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.
This August, prepare yourselves for some shameless hoe shenanigans: Siri’s Birthday Bash: Favorite Things Edition 🤭
The event will be August 15-18, but I wanted to post info now so writing challenge participants have lots of time to work on their stories. Writing challenge submissions will be accepted starting August 15 and through the end of August (or later if needed; I’m flexible and don’t want you to stress ❤️)
There are two ways to participate in my birthday bash (you can do both, or just one, whatever you want!):
The writing challenge
Submitting your Superior AI Custom Order
🤭 That’s right, my good hoes, since the theme of my event is my favorite things, I wanted my “party favors” to be inspired by one of my favorite verses to write! Please note that Superior AI Custom Orders are limited to one submission per person, and that submissions will only be accepted during the event dates noted.
All event details and the Superior AI Custom Order Form are beneath the cut. If you have any questions, please feel free to reach out! Thank you so much! Can't wait to have some birthday fun with you all ❤️
GENERAL EVENT DETAILS
When: August 15-18
*Writing challenge submissions will be accepted through the end of August (or later if needed).
How to Participate:
🎁 Birthday Gifts aka the writing challenge
🎉 Party Favors aka Submit Your Superior AI Custom Order
🎁 BIRTHDAY GIFTS (AKA THE WRITING CHALLENGE) 🎁
Rules for Fic Entries:
500 word minimum, 5,000 word max. (Please put your story under a cut after 150 words.)
Original works only. If your story is part of a series, it must be able to be read as a standalone piece.
Please tag me @stargazingfangirl18 when posting your story.
Include the tag #happy birthday siri 2026 on the original post of your fic (not on reblogs or reblog replies, please.)
Any genre accepted! Can be fluff, angst, smut, comedy, AU, dark, soft!dark, whatever you want.
Please stick to the CE characters listed below, and no RPF.
Reader insert stories only. LGBTQ+, BIPOC, & interracial stories are welcome and encouraged!
No toilet stuff, no necrophilia, no snuff, or bestiality. Non-con and dub-con must fall within commonly posted dark fics. (FYI: I personally don’t read daddy kink, mommy kink, spit kink, lactation kink, harsh degradation, dumbification, or anything focusing on health/illnesses/medical details/scenarios.)
Please include warnings as needed for explicit language, explicit sexual content, non-con, dub-con, dark fic, trigger warnings, 18+, etc.
Odds & Ends:
Each writer can submit a maximum of 3 stories.
Writers DO NOT need to claim prompts.
Smut writers and characters must be 18+.
Writers can also submit a Superior AI Custom Order but please keep it to one submission per person.
You do not need to write smut, I know it’s not everyone’s jam.
I reserve the right to not read or reblog anything that makes me uncomfortable.
Writing Challenge Babes & Prompts
BABES
Andy Barber
Ari Levinson
Bryce Langley
Cole Turner
Curtis Everett
Frank Adler
Jake Jensen
Lloyd Hansen
Pete Brenner
Ransom Drysdale
Reverend Drew
Robert Pronge (aka Mr. Freezy)
Steve Rogers
PROMPTS
Pick at least 1 prompt. You can pick more than 1, and you don’t need to claim prompts:
SCENARIOS:
Being a predatory babe’s prey (in a sexy way, not a hungry way lolll)
Sweet and/or Vulnerable!Reader x Scary!Hot!Babe
Being blackmailed by someone unlikely
Scary babe is only soft with you
Commitment phobe!babe is high key obsessed with you
A titillating encounter with a monster!babe
You’re an actual human disaster, but soft!dark babe finds it charming
Emotional constipation
Making a deal with the devil
Meet!oops or fail
Sacrificing yourself to a dangerous babe to save someone else
Being betrayed by someone you trust
DIALOGUE:
“I was just going to punish you, but now? Now I’m going to annihilate you.”
“Oh my god, how can someone be so fucking oblivious?!”
“You have no idea what your scent does to me.”
“That’s it! I’m done! No more adulting, no more responsibilities, no more anything! We’re just going to lay here and cuddle and hide from the rest of the world.”
“You picked the wrong man to steal from.”
“I have no idea what the future holds, but what I do know is that I want you by my side for every second of it.”
“I’ve never had someone so innocent, but by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be as corrupted as me.”
“Did you just… propose to me?”
“You know I reward loyalty and good work, and I thought she would make such a sweet, pretty gift.”
“Please, just give me one more chance. I know I can be better, for you. I would do anything for you.”
“The only thing you have to offer that’s of any interest to me is that sweet, warm place between your legs. So strip and show me just how badly you need my help.”
“I know I’m the last person you want to see right now, but we really need to talk.”
KINKS:
Breeding kink (non-pregnancy version)
Size kink
Praise kink
Somnophilia
Prone bone
Squirting
Manhandling
Oral sex (f receiving)
Anal play/sex
Overstimulation
Monster fucking
Creampie
TROPES:
Omegaverse
Mob AU
Good girl x bad boy
Biker AU
Delulu babe or Reader
Mercenary AU
Human disaster!Reader or babe
Conqueror AU
Friends to lovers
Sugar daddy/baby AU
Guard dog!Babe
CEO AU
🎉 PARTY FAVORS (AKA SUBMIT YOUR SUPERIOR AI CUSTOM ORDER) 🎉
Rules for Submission:
Submissions will only be accepted during the event dates of August 15-18. Those sent before or after those dates will be discarded.
You must submit your order by sending me an ask that answers the questions below.
There is a limit of 1 submission per person (please respect this limit, even if you request on anon; I don’t want to be overwhelmed or stressed).
Odds & Ends:
If you’re new to my Superior AI verse, you can check it out here.
Even if your babe of choice isn’t an AI in my verse, you can still request them for your custom order. Think of these resulting drabbles as AU :)
I may not get to every submission within the event timeframe, but I’ll try my best to answer all of them eventually, so please be patient.
Submit Your Superior AI Custom Order Form
Send me an ask with the following info, and I will write a (likely AU) Superior AI verse drabble starring the CE!babe of your choice! I’ve written these questions in one paragraph to make it easier for you to copy/paste, but you can space them out when you send your ask. Thank you!
Superior AI Custom Order Request: 1) Your CE!babe of choice (If you’d rather I pick the babe for you, let me know). 2) What are the top 3 reasons why you are ordering an AI? 3) Soft, soft!dark, or dark? 4) Smut or no smut?
Thank youuu. But also, happy birthday to me 🫠 lolll.
—
Tagging some fellow hoes who may be interested or want to signal boost the event, no pressure though! (Sorry if I forgot anyone, I’m awful at tagging lol.) ❤️
Pairing: Frank Adler x Fem!Reader x Nick Vaughan
Word Count: 3,217
Summary: You’re struggling in the aftermath of being caught by Omega Control; Nick’s trying his best to smooth things over with Frank; and Frank? He’s trying like hell to avoid each and every one of his alpha instincts.
Warnings: A/B/O. Eventual M/F/M. Omegaverse elements like scenting, mates, designations, etc. Pet parallels. Widower!Frank. Reference to growing up in foster care and being unhoused. Omega Control (like Animal Control). Angst. Grief and lashing out because of it. Omega being re-traumatized and going through it. Nick is the sweetest, softest boi.
A/N: Oh em geeee, it has been far too long since we last saw this trio! I think because their story is so angsty, it can be hard for me to be in the right headspace to write it, but they were recently voted the second story y’all wanted to see most, so I got it done, just for you. I hope you enjoy! ❤️
Pound Town Masterlist
“Table’s set,” Nick said as he came up behind you.
You were standing over the stove, finishing up the side dishes to go along with the roasted chicken that was thankfully perfectly cooked and keeping warm in the oven.
“It smells amazing,” Nick murmured as he slid his arms around you and pressed against your back. He kissed your cheek, giving you a soft smile when you turned to meet his gaze.
“Really? You know I’m not great at this kind of stuff, but I really wanted to show Frank what it could be like if…” you faltered, swallowing thickly then taking a breath as Nick pressed another kiss to your cheek. “If he gave us a chance.”
“You’re much better at cooking than you think,” Nick assured you. “And it really does look and smell and taste amazing.”
“Taste?” you echoed, giving him a half-hearted glare. “Did you sneak tastes when I was trying to find placemats for the table?”
“I definitely did,” he grinned. “Those mashed potatoes? Well, let's just say you’re lucky I love you, otherwise I’d hoard them all for myself.”
Your inner omega chirped happily at your beta’s praise–especially for something so homemaker-y, which you knew wasn’t exactly a strength of yours. It was probably one of your biggest insecurities actually, especially when it came to finding an alpha.
But you were trying. You were trying so hard.
You really wanted everything to be perfect for when Frank arrived home from work.
It was the very least he deserved for saving you from Omega Control, from being shipped off to a breeder and God knows what kind of misery and abuse would have awaited you then.
Surely nothing you haven’t already experienced in foster care, a mean little voice spoke up in the back of your mind.
You closed your eyes against the onslaught of memories that stirred up. At the vivid intrusive thoughts that played against the back of your eyelids at what could have happened if you’d been torn away from Nick, from Frank, from the life you had worked so hard to live as freely and happily as possible.
You had been so close to losing it all.
And you still weren’t convinced you hadn’t already lost Frank, for good.
“Omega?”
The sound of Nick’s concerned voice had you surfacing from the swirl of anxiety filling your head, and you blinked your eyes open, trying to muster a smile for him.
It had been a really long time since you felt this anxious, this helpless. But you had to shove it all down. All of it.
You had to finish this perfect dinner for Frank and welcome him home like a perfect omega would and–
The sound of the front door opening and the jangle of keys being tossed on the entryway table had you perking up in alarm. Your eyes flew to the clock above the stove and you gasped, “Oh my god! I didn’t realize how late it was! He’s home! Oh my–”
Your words faded away as Nick framed your face between his hand and tugged you in for a brief, soft kiss.
“It’s all amazing, and so are you,” he whispered, giving you a soft smile before pulling away.
A moment later, Frank’s tall figure appeared in the kitchen doorway. His brow was furrowed, his eyes wary as he glanced from the three places settings at the dining table, to you standing over the stove in an apron you had found in the back of the front closet along with the linens that now adorned the table.
“Why are you wearing that?” Frank snapped, his face darkening in a way that made you whine and stumble back a step.
“What?” You glanced down at the apron. “I-I didn’t want to make a mess–”
“That isn’t yours. Take it off!” Frank snarled, stalking toward you.
“Hey, Frank, calm down,” Nick’s voice was as soothing and careful as ever as he stepped in front of you, holding up his hands in the universal gesture of meaning no harm.
“It’s not hers! It’s…” Frank’s voice broke, his eyes gleaming with a wild kind of grief as he stared at you, then at the apron, like he was gutted.
And you realized that he was, and then why.
Horror dawned at your misstep–at what you had unintentionally done–unearthing something that had belonged to his late wife.
“Oh god,” you quavered, quickly untying the apron and slipping it off. You folded it carefully, respectfully, your tears already spilling over as you held it out to Frank with trembling fingers. “Frank, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t realize.”
“Hey, let’s all just take a deep breath and calm down,” Nick encouraged, shifting sideways so he could give you a gentle look. “You didn’t know. It was an honest mistake.” He turned back to Frank, who was holding the apron between his hands with the look of utmost sorrow clouding his features. “Frank, she was just trying to do something nice for you. Spent all day cooking a really great dinner–”
“I didn’t fucking ask for any of this,” Frank rasped, shaking his head as he crumbled the apron between his hands. “I didn’t ask for this!” he held it up, his eyes wet with unshed tears and his face flushed in anger, in heartbreak. “I didn’t ask for this!” he swept a hand toward the stove covered in steaming pots as the delicious aroma of the meal you had worked so hard on all day filled the air.
“Frank,” you wobbled, unsure of what to say but knowing you felt as devastated as he looked.
He shook his head, jaw clenching. “I can’t… do this. I can’t. I won’t. I won’t.”
And then he turned on his heel and stormed from the kitchen, leaving you and Nick staring after him, utterly devastated for an entirely different reason.
A couple of hours later, Nick tentatively eased open the door leading from the kitchen to the garage.
He heard soft clinking sounds, and the low hum of classic rock playing from a beat up stereo set on the corner of Frank’s work table.
The man himself was ducked under the hood of a fully restored 1967 Mustang Fastback. It was royal blue with white rally stripes, and it was gorgeous enough to have Nick whistling before he could really think better of it.
Frank went rigid, easing away from the car’s engine that didn’t really need any work, but it was just his way to keep himself busy, to keep his mind quiet when he needed it most, to hide.
“What do you want?” Frank grunted, looking tense as his grease-stained fingers twitched at his sides.
“Nothing, just thought I’d bring you one of these.” Nick held up a beer in each hand, one for him and one for Frank.
Frank’s eyes landed on the proffered beer and lingered long enough that Nick exhaled in relief. He moved closer, a soft, hopeful smile curling his lips as he held out the beer to Frank.
After a long, tense moment, Frank swiped the bottle from Nick’s grip, taking a long pull before turning away and ducking back under the hood of his car.
“I know you don’t want us here,” Nick murmured, inching closer before taking a tentative seat on a nearby crate. “I’m sorry that we’re encroaching on your space, on your home–”
“It’s not a home,” Frank said sharply before taking another gulp of his beer. “It hasn’t been a home for a long time. I don’t do homes, not anymore.”
“Right,” Nick breathed, his features softening, looking so very, very sad for the rigid alpha standing a few feet away.
Frank turned to set his beer aside to free up his hand and caught the way Nick was looking at him. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Don’t pity me. I don’t want your pity.”
“It’s not pity, Frank. It’s empathy.”
“I don’t want that either,” Frank gritted, moving to grab a wrench from the toolbox placed on the mobile cart between them. He pointed it at Nick, his eyes hard. “Don’t fucking feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t,” Nick said earnestly. “I feel sorry for what you went through, and I’m sorry for… for all of this. How messy it all turned out. You deserve better, so much better–”
“Christ, can you just be quiet?” Frank scoffed.
Nick snapped his mouth shut, his gaze falling to the floor as he took a small sip from his beer. He was trying so hard to smooth things over–for you, for himself, too, and for Frank.
He so desperately wanted to see the potential that you had so joyfully spoken about for the past few months.
All three of you had been through so much in different ways, and it was poetic, in a sense, that the Universe had brought you all together.
He just knew that if Frank would let some of that emotional armor crumble, if you two could just get through to him–earn his forgiveness–there was a chance that this could be something special.
The three of you, you could be a pack.
You could be each other’s home.
“Hand me that grease rag behind you,” Frank muttered, making Nick sit up at attention.
Blinking in surprise, that Frank had not only asked him for something but hadn’t kicked him out yet either, Nick twisted to the workbench behind him, plucking said grease rag from the surface and holding it out to Frank.
Frank’s eyes met his for a brief second–enough for Nick to feel the spark of something between them–and if the way Frank quickly looked away and his shoulders tensed was any indicator, the alpha had felt it, too.
Suppressing a soft smile, Nick watched Frank work, familiar with what he was tinkering with since he was the one who maintained your van. And before Frank could reach for the next tool he needed, Nick had scooped it up and had it held out.
Again, Frank’s eyes found the beta’s, some of the icy glint fading into something else–curioristy, perhaps. A touch of confusion, too, and just the tiniest, tiniest glimmer of what could have been admiration.
Regardless, whatever it was, it had Nick’s belly swooping and his chest fluttering with a tentative kind of hope.
The next morning, Frank was intent on getting out of the house to head to work before either you or Nick emerged from the guest room you were sharing. But as he went to pass by said guest room, the sound of your sharp, raised voice made him pause.
Frowning, because he had never heard you sound so irritated, Frank hovered just outside the door, which was cracked open, listening in on the conversation between you and Nick.
“Please,” your voice was softer this time as you took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Just, stop.”
“I’m not trying to upset you,” Nick swore as he crouched before where you were curled up on the window seat overlooking the side yard. “I’m just worried. You’re having nightmares again–”
“So?” you challenged, your features set and stubborn as you met his gaze.
Nick sighed. “You haven’t had nightmares like this in a really long time.”
“It’s nothing,” you insisted, feeling more tired than even Nick knew. “I’m fine.”
Nick’s touch was so painfully gentle as he held your hand, his thumb trailing back and forth over your knuckles. “It’s okay if you’re not, considering everything you’ve been through.”
“I’m fine,” you repeated, your exhaustion seeping into your voice now as you tried so hard to blink back the tears gathering.
Nick’s hold on your hand shifted, until he was guiding your palm to the center of his chest, where you could feel the steady rhythm of his heart beating beneath your touch. He leaned into you more fully, his free hand lifting to cradle the side of your face, making your gaze meet his.
“You haven’t told me anything about what happened at Omega Control,” he looked pained by this, his eyes flickering between yours, looking more worried than you had ever seen, so much so that you couldn’t hold his gaze any longer and looked away instead. “Usually you tell me everything.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about it ever again,” you whispered, turning away from Nick and curling in on yourself as you fixed your gaze outside–both yearning to be out there but terrified of being caught again. “We should keep the past in the past.”
At the sound of Nick’s disappointed sigh, Frank eased away from the door, frowning at the way you had echoed his own words to you, about keeping the past in the past.
Because everything inside of him–especially his inner alpha who was listlessly hovering beneath the surface, yearning to comfort you, to get to know Nick more–was telling him that you needed to talk about what happened. That it wasn’t a weight–or fear–that you should carry on your own.
Frank watched as his hand moved toward the doorknob, trembling slightly. Every rusty caretaker instinct inside of him was screaming at him to walk through that door, sweep you up against his chest, and soothe you with his alpha purr until you felt safe enough to tell him and Nick what had happened.
It would be so easy. All he had to do was press the door open, make his presence known, and just… allow things to go from there.
But instead, Frank took a step away from the door, then another, until he was jogging down the steps, swiping up his keys and briefcase from the entryway table, and shoving outside into the bright morning sunshine.
And the whole time he walked to his car, he thought the same thing over and over–that it wasn’t his place to take care of you, to protect you, that you had Nick for that.
You didn’t need him.
You didn’t.
It was nearly midnight once Frank finally returned home. He was exhausted, and had spent the hours after work at his favorite dive bar, nursing a couple of beers and eating bad frozen appetizers for dinner when all he really wanted was to go home.
But after this morning, what he had almost done…what he had wanted to do…
It felt safer to just stay away.
So it was like some kind of twisted, cosmic joke, that as soon as Frank stepped inside the house, he was instantly enveloped in your sweet, addictive omega scent.
Only there was a sour note to your divine smell, one that instantly had Frank as alert as his inner alpha.
Because that sour scent meant that you were distressed–terrified.
Before he realized what he was doing, Frank was dashing into the living room, only to pull up short. He wasn’t sure what he had expected to find–but it wasn’t you curled up on the sofa, asleep and visibly trembling as you whimpered at whatever nightmare had you caught in its dark web.
A beat later, Frank registered the distant sound of the shower running, which explained why you were by yourself in this state, and why Nick wasn’t there to soothe you.
But you so obviously needed soothing in this moment as you gave a choked sob, your features twisting in the utmost distress as you curled in on yourself tighter.
Frank was across the room in three long strides, before he even realized he was moving.
The need to calm you was like a visceral thing rippling over every inch of him–clawing at him from the inside out–and it was all he could focus on as he knelt on the floor beside you and tentatively reached out to touch the crown of your head.
“Shhh, omega,” Frank rumbled, his voice the softest it had been with you in weeks as he gently caressed your hair. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”
This close now, Frank could see the glimmer of tear-tracks along your cheeks, how tense your body was as you laid in the fetal position and tried to make yourself as small as possible.
Frank murmured your name, hesitating for a second before he held his wrist gland beneath your nose so you could breathe in his alpha scent. “You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re okay now.”
You shuddered hard, your brows furrowing in your sleep, a soft whimper falling from your lips as you shifted and pressed your nose against Frank’s wrist without even knowing it. You were just desperately seeking the sudden source of your comfort–of the familiar–of something, no, someone who made you feel safe.
“There you go,” Frank praised softly, resuming his pets along your head as he watched your body go lax and the rigid tension slowly ease from your frame. “Such a good omega.”
Frank’s voice broke, his breath shaky as he watched you sleep, as he really looked at you for the first time in weeks–since everything had happened.
You looked so tired, and so small.
So vulnerable.
And it made him ache. It made him want. It made him yearn. It made all of his instincts–both man and alpha–stir up and rise within him in a way that terrified him.
Because he never thought he would feel this way again.
Frank never thought that he would care about someone so deeply again.
In fact, he had tried so fucking hard to avoid it at all costs, because he knew what it felt like to lose it all. To lose the person you loved most. To lose the future you had been so hopeful for. To lose your entire family, your home, everything that made you who were in one awful, tragic fell swoop.
He’d had it all–the love, the future, the life, the home. And he was supposed to protect them at all costs.
And he had failed.
He had failed as a man, as an alpha–as a husband and as a soon-to-be father. Frank had failed in a way that still haunted his every waking moment five years later.
So when he looked at you, when he felt what he felt for you, when he got caught in Nick’s soft, warm gaze and wanted to stay there–it terrified him in a way that made him want to turn his back on it all–on everything.
But he couldn’t find it in himself to do that right now.
Not when you clung to his wrist in your sleep and a quiet chirp spilled past your lips. Not when the sour note faded from your scent and was replaced by the warm, spicy tones of your contentment and relief.
All Frank could do was watch you, convinced that in this moment, he was the only thing keeping your nightmares at bay, and that was enough for his protective instinct to override his sheer panic.
It was enough to have the rest of the world fade away as he focused on soothing you into a peaceful sleep, completely unaware that Nick stood in the doorway, having witnessed this entire tender, protective display.
And finally getting to see with his own eyes the kind of alpha that Frank Adler could be, and why you were so completely taken with him.
OH EM GEEEEE. I’m kind of in emotional shambles right now, ngl. This story feels so messy lol, but I’m also kind of in love with it anyway. I just want them all to be happy and loved 🥺
—
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Warning: power imbalance, size kink, dark content, and all around sexiness.
Summary: you work in the background until you're dragged front and centre. (actor!Napoleon Solo, short reader)
Hi! Please please please reblog and leave some feedback if you read! I love you 💕
Everyone has to start somewhere. Thing is, not everyone makes it further than that. You’re just trying to see how far you can go.
Two years of background work and you’re not seeing the light just yet. But this is what you wanted. This is the only thing you could ever think of doing, and yet, you’ve done more than you could ever imagine.
You’ve never been the most social creature. You thought technical work would keep you in the background. That you would simply get your orders, the specs, and do setup. Unfortunately for you, life doesn’t always match expectations.1
You’re used to it, not comfortable with it. Talking to strangers, trying not to step on toes. Thankfully, the people you deal with are so much more important than you, they barely acknowledge your existence.
“Stage 3.” The call comes through your earpiece.
You hike up your kit on your shoulder and tap the button on the radio clipped to your belt. “On it. Gear in hand.”
You pause as you get to the curtain. Lights dim and brighten on the other side, voices drift through, one deeper than the rest. You chest the roster before you enter. Got it.
You push through and cross the set. Penelope is late. You think she could be on time for her very important work, especially given her boasting. All the stars want to talk to me!
Your eyes fall on the interviewee of the day. You recite his name in your head as you approach. The chair makes him look larger, though he is a naturally big man. As big as he looks on those posters you see at the theatre in passing.
“Excuse me, hi, Mr. Solo,” you say.
His attention turns to you, his eyes bold and bright. You’re surprised at the intensity of them as they don’t immediately roll away in dismissal. You rest your hand on your bag.
“I’m just here to mic you up. Do you mind?” You go through your usual rapport. Most times, you get a wave of the hand to get it over with.
“Of course.” He sits up straight and puffs his chest. “Jacket or shirt?”
“Um… probably just on your collar.” You look down and flip open your kit.
You’re used to feeling small, not just physically, but this man makes you feel miniscule.
“Sure.” He agrees.
You take out the mic clip and step closer to him. You hesitate. You can’t exactly reach without getting too close.
He slides forward in the chair and rests his hands on his thick thighs. He hunches his shoulder.”Better?” He asks.
“Oh, thank you.”
He leans in as you grab his collar. You can smell his cologne. It’s not too strong, a soft scent, like jasmine and something earthy. A piece of hair falls forward on his forehead as you secure the mic and his arm brushes yours as he flicks it back.
“You don’t happen to have some pomade on you?” He chuckles. “Can’t get this to behave.”
“Um, no… mic only.” You say awkwardly as you pull away.
“Ah, well, then, if I have any issue being heard, I’ll ask for you?”
Your eyes skitter back and forth. “Sure, or Ollie. He’s our floor manager.”
He laughs again. “And if I wanted to ask for you, what name would I use?”
You blink then answer stiffly. You can’t remember the last person who cared. It’s why you stopped introducing yourself.
He repeats it with a lilt on his tongue and hums. “Wonderful.” He sits back and taps his head. “I never forget a name or a face.”
“We need to do a test,” you unplug your ear piece from the radio and pull out the console. You port the cord into the output. “Can you say something?”
“Something,” he slithers.
“Got it. Alright. Should be good.”
You turn without looking back. As you do, you hear a squeal. Penelope strides in, an iced coffee in hand, her big sunglasses hiding her hangover, hair freshly blown out. You see the wince in her forehead.
“Nap! Leon! What can I call you?” She chimes despite the grate in her voice.
“Napoleon,” He enunciates as he stands offers his hand to her.
She pauses and looks him up and down, pulling her sunglasses down her nose. “Wow, you’re taller in person!”
She shakes his hand daintily as she fans herself. He’s unaffected by her fawning. He lets her go and checks his expensive watch, the silver catching the set lights.
“I think we’re running behind.” He says.
“Oh, well, it isn’t live.” She flicks her fingers derisively. “You’re important enough for them to wait on.”
His jaw ticks but he maintains his easy expression. He backs up and sits down again. Penelope calls for Prisha and shoves her iced coffee at her. “Darling, I need more powder. Get that makeup girl in here, now.”
You keep out of the way, waiting for your opportunity. A flurry of assistants horde around Penelope and tug at her hair and her clothing, one even waving a silk fan at her. It’s always a show.
You twist your heel into the floor as your eyes wander. You catch Napoleon watching you, his head tilted slightly in impatience. He flicks his eyebrows as if to say, ‘can you believe this?’ You’ve seen it so many times, you’re numb to the ridiculousness of it all. It’s worse when the guest is just as pretentious.
Prisha steps around Penelope’s chair and you take your in. You quickly approach, clip the mic, and back off before you can even be noticed. You think of the star interview like a cat; clip their claws when they’re sleeping or distracted. Don’t make it too obvious.
You test her mic and listen to her catty demands through your ear piece. Now you just need to go up to the sound booth and get JJ to sort out the levels. Your job isn’t done. No, now you get to listen to a whole PR-scripted interview and be ready for any technical issues.
Ugh, maybe one day you’ll find something better. Something less chaotic. You just want to be able to plug in and do your work. You don’t need to be screeched at or shooed away like a stray dog.
Summary: Andy Barber is so desperate to lose the stigma surrounding him he's willing to let himself be used and abused by his boss.
Warnings: Implied smut, Sexism (Matriarchy AU), Sexual harassment, Workplace harassment. Please let me know if I missed any!
A/N: Reader is female. No other physical descriptors used.
Part 1;
Part of the Matriarchy AU.
"Andy, my office," you call out as soon as he leaves Melinda's office.
Andy winces. His beard is still gleaming. He needs to clean himself up. But he doesn't dare deny a superior.
As soon as he's in you stop him from closing the door.
"Can't have Melinda thinking we're doing something wrong," you explain. "Do us both a favor and use the bathroom in my office to clean yourself up."
"Thank you, Madam," Andy sighs from relief, practically sprinting to the sink.
As he washes his face, he keeps himself on alert. Sure, this isn't breaking the rules, but it's a kindness. Kindness always has a cost. And if your price puts him at risk with Melinda, he's well and truly fucked.
He tries to quietly walk out of your office but you motion for him to have a seat across from you. His shoulders tense as he sits, keeping his gaze averted.
"We're keeping the door open so Melinda can't accuse us of anything and speaking in hushed tones so you won't get in trouble," you quietly say. "I'm going to hand you some papers and a copy of my office key will be amongst them. Whenever you need the private bathroom here, if you need a few minutes away from everything, my office is open to you."
Andy stares at the small pile of papers, breathing shallow with indecision. If he accepts and Melinda finds out, she'll drop him as a prospective Husband. She might even make it look like he's stealing and he'll be fired and kicked out on the street. On the other hand, you're showing him more kindness than he's ever experienced since he got hired. You're giving him a chance to preserve what little dignity he has.
"Melinda isn't the queen," you reassure. "She shares power in this company with me and Yvette and she's already on Yvette's last nerve. So if she raises a fuss, she'll be outvoted. Understand?"
"I...I think so, Madam," he breathes.
Andy considers his options. You've always been polite to him, but maybe it's a trap? If it weren't for your open disputes with Melinda he'd think the two of you were setting him up, testing him to prove his loyalty to her. Because a good Husband is loyal to his Wife. If he takes the key, keeps it secret, Melinda could accuse him of being unsuitable for the role of Husband and, again, he's out on his ass with less than nothing.
But, at this point, what are the chances Melinda will ever follow through on her promises? You've always been polite to him. Honest. Straightforward. Complimentary, even. Maybe he can trust you?
The entire time Andy deliberates you keep looking like you're working so as to not arouse suspicion. It pains you how scared he looks contemplating letting himself preserve some dignity.
"I'll make sure this gets taken care of, Madam," he finally says, grabbing the papers, and the key, as he stands.
You let out a small sigh of relief. It isn't much, but maybe it'll be a start towards getting him out from under Melinda's desk and getting him somewhere safe, healthy. The man could be a good Husband, but he's never going to reach that potential if he stays her side-piece.
It really doesn't take much for Andy to hide your office key from Melinda. She doesn't pay attention to him outside of when she wants something from him. She's not going to notice an extra key on his key chain.
He's also smart enough to know to take his time cleaning himself up after Melinda uses him. She expects him to take forever to get back because of the lack of men's bathrooms available in the building. If he were to be sitting at his desk a few minutes later, freshened up, she'd be suspicious. He can't risk that.
Back at his apartment his roommates noticed he was more on edge.
"Boss threatening to fire you?"
"What? No. No, of course not."
"You should be looking over your shoulder, sleeping your way into a Husband role like that," they scoff.
"I didn't...it's not exactly by choice," he grumbles. "I got lucky to be hired at all."
"You know you only got hired for your looks," one of them sneers. "Friggin' pretty boy using his good looks to take a job someone worthy could use."
Andy sighs and just heads to his room. There was no solidarity here. They never saw him as the victim part of him knows he is. He was always just getting by on his looks. Always "asking" to be used by his boss.
He pulls out his key chain, looking at that key to your office. Maybe there was someone who saw him for what he was.
In another part of town, you're sitting across from Natasha Romanov, a college friend who was now a high ranking member of Her Majesty's Intelligence Agency. The two of you had kept in touch over the years and it was because of you that she got her in at the Agency.
"I'm guessing you're calling in your favor?" she smiles as she sips her wine.
You chuckle. "You're always too good at reading people."
"Not like this was difficult. It isn't often you ask to meet me without some kind of heads up or asking me a time that works. This is something important."
"Well...important-ish. It is for a guy, after all."
"Oh really?" she raises her eyebrows in surprise.
"You know Melinda Benefry?"
"One of your business partners," she nods.
"Correct. You know our diversity hire?"
"Oh, her secretary. I'm guessing Melinda isn't interested in sharing?"
"And I'm not interested in how she continually uses and degrades him. Having a side-piece is one thing. Emotionally torturing the man is another."
"I concur," she nods. "The number of men who we've found that were kidnapped, trafficked, worse. No one deserves that."
"It's my hope I don't have to say more," you raise an eyebrow.
Ahhhhhh!!! This verse is so good, Zombie! I really feel so sad for Andy, but I’m so happy he has Reader looking out for him 🥹 And bringing in Nat!!!! Now he has two badasses working in his favor and he doesn’t even know it 😭 I’m so excited to see Melinda get hers. I hope she’s disgraced 😡🔪
Type: Omegaverse, nomad!Steve Rogers, AU to canon (duh), eventually all three food groups (angst, smut, fluff)
Warnings: allusions to NSFW, they're soulmates but it hurts, nomad Steve because he's a warning
Word count of the peek: 750
You left the door open that day, stepping in to make tea and coffee and to serve cookies of all things, blindly driven to take care of your alpha, to please him, to make a home; your breath caught, your trembling heart pounding the moment he actually walked in.
You never got to eat or drink, even as you tried to be polite, both of you, to think it through. To fight the natural designation breaking through your suppressants and scent masking with ease, because where modern medicine might be able to fool an omega’s body and alpha’s and beta’s sense of smell, it was useless in face of the precious phenomenon of fated mates.
He was yours. You were his.
There was no fighting it – not completely. Neither of you had the willpower to stay underwater when the air you needed to breathe was at your fingertips, your scent all over your house enticing him, his seeping into it in perfect harmony, like puzzle pieces falling into place.
Before you knew it you were standing inches apart, his nose trailing along your wrist with a groan, your mind hazy, body vibrating in anticipation, voice breathless even as you breathed quick and shallow in order to remain composed and at least a tad rational. Exchanging names was the least you could do and the most you managed before you could not hold back any longer.
You knew who he was; he knew you knew. You knew his situation, or enough of it, the star he had been carrying on his chest faded and torn away, his golden boy persona and looks long gone.
It didn’t make a goddamn difference.
If anything, the ragged bearded man who stood but two inches from you was the embodiment of an alpha and everything about him had your inmost carnal instincts and soul-deep longing scream mine.
My Steve. My alpha.
The kiss he pressed to your wrist was tender, the chirp escaping you nearing a whimper, knees wobbling under the overwhelming sensation rushing through your body. He caught you with arm firmly wrapped around you and a kiss that was all teeth and desperate need and laying a claim and you reciprocated with fervour, inhaling his intoxicating scent and the rest were days to remember spent in a haze and pleasure you had never known to exist before.
And pain. Sharp and dull at once, its echo resonating in your ribcage even now as you shed the gardening gloves and went to wash your hands, starting the kettle and laying out ingredients for a warm homecooked meal Steve – former Captain America turned fugitive from the law of several countries – deserved and got to eat scarcely.
Sometimes, you didn’t make it past a hello, his hands on you wishing to recreate the imprints they had left weeks if not months ago, exploring you anew, nose against your neck, teeth scraping over the most sensitive part of your throat to induce pleasure so intense you forgot how to make a sound or think.
Other times, you held each other first and inhaled softly, allowing yourselves to reacquaint with someone who was fated to belong with you, who was yours with every fibre of their being, the cracks in your ribcages mended at last, body, soul and home rebuilt.
Today, it seemed, was the case of the former.
You were ruminating through the cabinets, trying to figure out what to cook, when Steve’s arms circled you from behind and pulled you to his front, nose instantly at your collar, breathing in deeply with a satisfied rumble in his chest that had your omega shivering with delight. Heat rushed all over your skin as you inhaled deeply, hands covering his, body melting in his hold already as you felt familiar burn at the apex of your thighs respond to his presence like clockwork.
“Alpha…” you whispered, shuddering when he hummed behind you, arms squeezing tighter, mouth pressing to the side of your neck, lingering, a quick lap of tongue over your skin making him groan; and you clutch at his forearms, legs turning weaker as your blood rushed elsewhere.
It was torture; torture of the bittersweetest kind, a tease of a promise never delivered on and never as much as made. It twisted your stomach in knots, the ache of his absence, the agonizing absence of a bonding mark already flaring through you and chasing tears into your eyes, deep-bone agony you knew would come again, because you had been here before. Every single time.
-.-💕-.-
So... writing omegaverse. That's different and fun, especially with an angsty edge 🤭 Let me know your thoughts 💕
Ohhhhhhhhhh my gosh. You’re going to absolutely destroy all of us. I’m already halfway there 😭😭😭 I just want them to live happily ever after 🥺
As much as I love the nomad!Steve era, I really think he’d be the hardest Steve to be with. So much against you, and it’s like peak danger for him having a partner 😭
I’m so excited to see what else you have in store for us!! 🤗❤️
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.
But I'm enjoying this Andy a lot. The ruthless mobster, but with a soft side and clearly a cackling troll side 😆
Sometime, in the far far future, I hope Andy invites you and Ari for a dinner with him and his Reader. It would be most amusing. Also probably, you would ask her if poor sweetheart needs saving from the clutches of crime cooties 🤣 I fucking died at that expression!
Yay!! I’m so glad you like him so much! I am having SO much fun with him!!!
And I’m already thinking of some more ways for our couples to come together eventually!! But not in a sexy way, because no one would be up for sharing. But omg can you imagine Ari’s girl’s face if Andy propositioned her? 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 Big this energy:
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 🙏🏻
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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 🫠
