𑣲 wrapped in ribbon, wrapped in love ⋮ 2.6k
❝ steve rogers x female reader ❞ ── a soft confession about steve’s arms turns into a valentine’s promise he fully intends to keep—complete with satin ribbon, bashful smiles, and kisses. some gifts are meant to be held… and slowly undone.
⤷ tags: fluff, boyfriend steve rogers, big arms steve rogers, kissing, i love cute steve okay, this is literal porn with feelings on paper btw ⋮ warnings: quick smut, plot what plot/porn with plot, p in v, cowgirl, praise kink, soft dom!steve, consent checks, hickies, missionary, soft sex, not beta read we die like men.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ june’s note ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ── my humble contribution to the adorable galentines event, i saw this swap out option and literally laughed out loud bc ive done the exact same thing to mr junie 😭
prompt(s): 🌶️ "Is this okay?" + Wrapping their biceps with cute ribbon. (swap)
The sheets are warm, twisted around your legs, sunlight barely peeking through the curtains as Steve lies on his back beside you. One of his arms is stretched out, instinctively curved around you like it was made for this, made for you.
You’re half on top of him, cheek pressed to his bicep, nose nuzzling into the solid warmth there. It’s ridiculous, really, how comfortable it is. How safe. Your fingers trace lazy lines over his skin, thumb brushing back and forth like you’re petting a very patient, very handsome cat.
“Steve,” you murmur, voice muffled against him.
“Mm?” He’s already smiling, you can hear it.
“You ever think about how unfair your arms are?”
He huffs a quiet laugh, the sound vibrating through his chest and straight into your cheek. “Unfair how?”
Instead of answering, you nip at his bicep, just a quick, teasing bite then immediately press a kiss there like an apology. And then another. And another.
“They’re perfect,” you gush shamelessly. “Like… dangerously perfect. I could lay here forever. I want to lay here forever.”
Steve’s ears go pink. Then his cheeks. You feel the muscle beneath you tense, not pulling away, just reacting, bashful and pleased in equal measure.
“You’re exaggerating,” he says, but his voice is softer now, fond and a little flustered.
You lift your head just enough to look at him, chin still resting on his arm. “If I could only have one gift for the rest of my life,” you say seriously, eyes bright, “it would be this. Laying on your arms. That’s it. That’s the gift.”
He swallows.
The arm beneath you tightens slightly, careful not to squish you but unwilling to let you go. His free hand comes up to brush your hair back, thumb grazing your temple.
“You know,” he murmurs, “you’re gonna be the death of me.”
You grin and settle back down, hugging his bicep like a prized possession.
“You good?” he asks quietly.
You hum, content, and rub your cheek against his bicep like a cat. “M’perfect.”
He smiles at the ceiling. You can feel it. A few seconds pass before you tilt your head, eyes half-lidded, and say, “You know you’re very boyfriend-shaped, right?”
There’s a pause.
“I—what does that mean?” he asks, already suspicious.
“It means,” you say thoughtfully, tracing the faint vein along his arm with your finger, “you’re built exactly the right way for holding someone. Like, this?” You squeeze him gently. “This is ideal. Ten out of ten. No notes.”
His ears go pink. Immediately.
“That’s… that’s not—” He clears his throat. “You don’t have to rate me.”
“I absolutely do,” you insist. “And you’re doing amazing.”
You lift your head just enough to look at his face. He’s staring very intently at the opposite wall now, jaw tight, lips pressed together like he’s trying not to smile too hard.
“You’re blushing,” you sing softly.
“I am not.”
“Steve.”
“I’m warm,” he huffs weakly.
You grin and press a kiss to the curve of his bicep. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”
That does it. His face goes fully pink, freckles standing out more against his skin. He lets out a breathy laugh, helpless.
“You can’t just say stuff like that,” he murmurs.
“Why not?”
“Because then I don’t know what to do,” he admits. “I just—” He gestures vaguely with his free hand. “Short-circuits me.”
You soften instantly, fingers curling into his shirt. “Oh. I like that.”
He finally looks down at you then, expression gentle and open in that way that always makes your chest ache a little.
“You make me feel… good,” he says, quietly sincere. “Like I’m doing something right.”
“You are,” you say without hesitation. “All the time.”
You kiss his arm again, then his shoulder, then the corner of his mouth. He turns his head instinctively, catching you in a real kiss this time—slow, sweet, unhurried. When you pull back, his forehead rests against yours.
“You know,” he hums softly, “if you keep talking about my arms like that, I’m never gonna leave this bed.”
You smile. “Promise?”
He chuckles, nose brushing yours. “Yeah. I think that’s one I can keep.”
The next afternoon, you’re curled on the couch with a book when you hear the door open.
“Hey,” Steve calls.
“In here,” you answer, not looking up.
There’s a pause. Then the unmistakable sound of a paper bag crinkling.
He appears in the doorway looking… suspiciously pleased with himself.
“I, uh,” he hesitates, holding the bag out, “got something for you.”
You blink. “Steve, you didn’t have to—”
“It’s not for you,” he interrupts, suddenly shy again. “It’s… for me. Sort of. For you. I mean—just open it.”
You peek inside.
Ribbon.
Soft, satiny ribbon. Purple. Pink. White. Enough to wrap an entire department store.
You look up at him. He looks back at you, hopeful and a little proud.
“For… wrapping your gift,” he states with a small smile, quoting you.
It takes exactly half a second before you burst into giggles, laughter spilling out of you uncontrollably. “Oh my god,” you laugh, “you’re ridiculous.”
“But you’ll do it,” he says, already sitting down and rolling up his sleeves.
You absolutely will.
You take your time, looping the ribbon carefully around one bicep, tying it into a neat little bow. Then the other. You sit back to admire your work.
Steve lifts an eyebrow. “Well?”
“Okay,” you gleam, eyes sparkling, “flex.”
He does—and the ribbon strains immediately.
“Steve—!” you laugh. “Okay, Hercules, maybe don't do that. You’re gonna rip it.”
He relaxes, chuckling, but before either of you can say anything else, you’re already leaning in, fingers curling into his shirt as you kiss him.
The kiss deepens fast—warm, familiar, full of all the things you never need to say out loud. His hands slide to your waist, strong and sure, and then suddenly you’re being lifted like you weigh nothing at all.
“Bedroom,” he murmurs against your mouth.
You don’t argue.
He carries you there, sets you down gently, following you onto the bed as the ribbons twist under your curious hands. You kiss along his arms, slow and lovingly, teeth tugging at the satin until the bows unravel and slip away.
Your body moves on instinct with his, falling into the familiar rhythm that you both love, your hips rolling on top of his grinding down onto his already hard cock. His tongue licks the seam of your lips open and you part them with a hum, melting into his touch.
His hands roam up your sides and splay at your back, pulling you down flush against him.
"Steve," you mewl weakly, body already keyed up to the max for him as you paw at his sweatpants.
"I know baby," he purrs against your lips, silencing your whine with another kiss. "I got you, lemme just—"
You moan when he pushes the hem of his sweatpants down, just enough for his cock to spring free and tap your tummy. You both quickly scramble to get enough clothes off before he's pulling you into a kiss again.
Lost in his lips a soft gasp escapes them when you feel the ridge of his tip sliding against you.
"Is this okay?" he mutters as he pull away, those sea green eyes boring into yours with such love it makes your heart swell. You nod and kiss him again, your hand slipping down between your bodies.
You breathe in and out together as you slide down, Steve lets you set the pace but its not long before his hands are on your waist, fingers digging it with that grip you love so much. Never too hard but always enough to know how much he needs you. You love Steve for endless reasons, but when its just the two of you mixed in the heat of your bodies you can get enough. He's blushing one moment, reassuring his respect for you, then he's snapping his hips up into you like he doesn't.
One of his hands snake up your spine, fisting your hair and tilting your head back to expose the skin of your neck, he runs his mouth up the column, biting and licking pink and purple marks all along it.
You croon into him, your hands running down to his biceps and digging your nails into the skin, both of you marking the other in your favorite way.
"So good for me," he murmurs against your skin, his voice gentle while his body isn't. "My sweet pretty girl."
Your mind is a blurry haze you hardly register him taking hold of you and rolling you over until his weight is settling on your chest. The angel change makes your eyes flutter, the way he grabs the backs of your thighs and holds you open for him, sinking even deeper as his thrusts pick up speed.
He keeps you flat against the bed, those arms that you love so much caging you in under him as he plows into you as if he wasn't afraid to tear you in half. You'd let him too, your body in his arms, soul in his hands tying you two together like a ribbon.
You pull his lips to yours, needing every inch of his body against yours, needing to be and feel like one.
"Come on baby," he whispered in your ear, nipping at the lobe, thrusts hitting you so perfectly at that sweet spot inside you. "I can feel you getting so sweet n' tight for me, let me have it."
You fall over the edge with ease from his words, pleasure dripping down your spine like warm honey, drenching you from head to toe as your cunt leaks and contracts around him. Steve leaned in to pepper a line of kisses down your body, warm and pliant under his.
"Steve," you whine, letting your legs fall from his hold. "Please."
He doesn't make you beg any further, you don't need to, he leaned back and ran his hands down your chest. Fingers running over every budding bruise and mark on your skin with wicked grin. With a slow swivel of his hips he pushed back into you, his thick cock splitting you open like a log, hard concentrated strokes that melted at your core.
You held on tight as every deliberate thrust left you weeping, shooting bursts of ecstasy through every inch of your body. You couldn’t ever get enough of him, hands clawing at his arms and finding the muscled flesh once more. It didn't take long for another pool of heat to seep into your center, licking up your spine and threatening to send you over the edge.
“Mm, please, Steve, please cum, I need it, need to feel you” you whimper shamelessly, body taught and on the edge of pleasure but refusing to go over without him.
“I will pretty girl,” he grunts back. “I’ll cum for you, honey, so close, you feel so good, just need you to cum one more time, can you do that for me pretty?”
He wrapped his hand around you throat, not tightly, just enough to hold you in one spot, his lips mated to yours. Three final strokes was all it took, the friction of his pelvis on your clit catapulted you over the edge, dragging you into the undertow of ecstasy. Steve rutted against you as he filled you up, spilling deep inside of you pleasure burning bright and hot through your veins.
"Fuck baby," he groans, slowing to a gentle stop before collapsing over you, still careful not to put his entire weight on you, unwilling to separate from you he rolls you both to the side, keeping you nestled against him.
Steve notices them when you shift, faint marks blooming along your collarbone, a little darker where his mouth had lingered longer than he meant to. His brows knit instantly.
“Oh—” he says, guilt rushing in all at once. His hand hovers, not touching yet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to— I mean, I got carried away and I should’ve been more careful.”
You glance down, then back up at him, amused.
“Steve,” you say gently.
He presses his lips together, already spiraling. “I can get makeup. Or a scarf. Or— I don’t know, I just, I don’t want you uncomfortable or thinking I—”
You reach up and cup his cheek, thumb brushing over the faint crease between his brows.
“I love them.”
He blinks. “You… what?”
You smile, warm and unapologetic. “I love them. I love that you wanted me that much. I love that they’re from you.”
The blush hits him full force, spreading from his cheeks all the way down his neck.
“Oh,” he breathes, a little stunned.
You trail your fingers down his chest, teasing. “Besides, they make me feel… taken care of. Wanted.”
His eyes soften instantly, something tender and reverent settling in his expression.
“I always want you,” he says quietly. “I just… I never want to hurt you.”
“I know,” you whisper. “And you didn’t.”
Relief floods him. He leans in, pressing a careful kiss just below one of the marks, feather-light this time, like an apology and a promise wrapped into one.
“Still,” he murmurs, “I’ll be gentler.”
You laugh softly. “We’ll see.”
He chuckles, shaking his head, and pulls you back into his arms, kissing you again, slow, sweet, and a little breathless until you’re both smiling too much to keep it going.
“God,” he mutters fondly against your lips, “I’m really lucky.”
You rest your forehead against his. “Yeah,” you say. “Me too.”
He’s still hovering over you, braced on one arm, the other tucked securely around your back like he’s afraid you might disappear if he loosens his hold even a little. His hair is mussed, cheeks still pink, eyes soft in that open, unguarded way he only ever lets you see.
“You okay?” he asks, quiet and earnest, thumb brushing slow circles against your side.
You nod, breath a little shaky but smiling. “More than okay.”
Relief floods his face instantly. He exhales, shoulders dropping, and then he’s leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. Then another to your temple. Your cheek. Your nose. Like he can’t help himself, like he needs to make sure you feel it.
“You’re so good,” he murmurs, words pressed into your skin. “You did great. I’ve got you.”
You laugh softly. “Steve… I’m the one who should be saying that.”
He shakes his head, smiling shyly, and kisses you again, longer this time, slower, unhurried. Not heated now, just deep and affectionate, the kind that leaves you a little dizzy anyway. When you pull back, he chases you, stealing another kiss, and then another.
“You’re kissing me senseless,” you mumble.
“Yeah,” he admits, unapologetic. “Kinda the point.”
You grin and curl closer, tucking your face into his neck. He immediately adjusts, wrapping both arms around you fully now, palms warm and steady against your back.
He rocks you just slightly, absentminded, like it’s instinct. Like his body knows exactly what to do when you’re here.
“Need water?” he asks. “Blanket? Snacks? I can—”
You tilt your head up and kiss him again, cutting him off. He freezes for half a second, then melts right back into it, smiling into your mouth.
“I just need you,” you say softly.
That blush is back immediately.
“Oh,” he says, voice a little rough. “Okay. I can do that.”
He settles you against his chest, chin resting on the top of your head, arms firm and protective around you. Every few seconds, he drops a gentle kiss into your hair, your forehead, wherever he can reach, like he’s grounding himself as much as he’s soothing you.
You sigh, content, fingers idly tracing his arm.
“Best Valentine’s gift ever,” you murmur.
He smiles, eyes closing as he holds you closer. “Yeah,” Steve agrees quietly. “Mine too.”
