🧚🏻♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe thot about: CE!babe + “Sir, I think you misunderstood.”
I'm SO HONORED, you have no idea. 🧚♀️👸🏽❤️🪄🧚✨⚡️❤️🔥🧚♂️
*While this follows Super-Human Resources as a story, it is not necessary to read that to understand. Reader is female and 'older' but no specifics about her body or age are given. For context, you believe that you and Steve are f***-buddies and nothing more (he does not believe that).
Summary: Steve is more eager to than you realized...
A shameless fic deserves a shameless gif, don't you think? **Warnings for smut: unprotected sex (established consent/relationship) in a semi-public space, oral (m receiving), horny gremlin!Steve, and not a whole hell of a lot of editing utilized, folks... MINORS DNI. There's all-age friendly fic on my Light Masterlist, but not here. WC ~2k
Busy.
Busy day. Busy week. Busy month really, if you stop to think about it, but you can’t stop right now. There’s work to be done. Agents to clear, trainees to make agents, and it’ll be done as soon as you file these…
“Shit,” you mutter as Maria Hill is about to take the documents from you. You were almost done with this closed-door meeting. “Rogers hasn’t signed off on them yet.”
For the tiniest of split-seconds, Hill looks annoyed, her eyes half roll while she sighs. “He’s been just as slammed as all of us.” She doesn’t seem thrilled by the chaos of spring either. Say what you will about seasonal depression sucking, but there is a notable uptick in enemy aggression once the weather warms.
Does that make winter less crazy? No. What it does is make the internal workings of the Compound go bonkers until everyone can fight out there. In HR’s case, winter is the worst and busiest time. Busy. Busy. Busy.
Your off-hours understanding with Steve Rogers aside, there are few seasonal bright spots beyond actually liking your job.
You dial up Rogers’ number. It rings only once before he answers.
“Yes, ma’am, what can I help you with?”
He’s so sweet with you in private, and though diligent about keeping work strictly professional, you imagine you can tell the barest of warmth laced into the words.
“Sorry to bother, Captain—“
Hill slaps down a new file you’ve not seen yet.
“—but I need you—“ you cover the mic with your palm, whispering ‘and what’s this?’ but she waves you off “—to come down and…hello?”
The dial tone starts again.
“Hello? I think he just hung up on me.”
Hill simply shrugs. “Maybe even he’s at wit’s end,” she muses. “Just bring the rest to my office whenever, but I’ll need a review of this contract. The lawyers approve, but if you ask me they kept the wording too technical. We need a—let’s say a nicer spin on it.”
Fine. Toss it on the pile. In fact, that’s exactly what you do, move it from corner A to corner B of your desk.
Above you, Maria makes a shocked sort of chirping noise.
“Cap! You scared me there.”
“Sorry,” Steve huffs in the doorway, arms braced on either side of the frame. “Sorry. Sorry, I just—“ clearing his throat “—was already on this floor when you called, so…I’m here.”
His stealth training with Natasha really paid off. There was zero sound when he came in.
“Right, well, if you could—“
Steve holds up a finger. “Actually, I have something to ask…to discuss with…”
“I’ll bring them by your office later,” you offer Hill.
She nods and leaves, none the wiser to Rogers speedily (and silently) locking the door behind her.
You push out your chair to greet him, but Steve rounds the desk before the seat even rolls past touching your calves.
“I need you, too,” he husks, big hand gripping your waist, maneuvering you back against the wall. His mouth finds the tender spot below your ear immediately. “‘m glad you called.”
Oh.
Oh wow, he’s—
“Love when you wear these.” Steve drops to one knee, fingers dancing at the hem of your skirt and over the thin shield of your pantyhose.
He does love him some nylons, cheeky boy.
Good thing your office blinds were already closed, or the whole cubicle pool would see Captain America six inches from your crotch with a hand sneaking up your thigh.
“Sir,” you whimper in the suddenness of his desire, “I think you misunderstood.”
A flicker of questioning darts across Steve’s features.
“I actually just need you to sign those,” you clarify with a wave to the desk.
“Oh.” Steve presses his head into your leg for a second. “So not…?”
“Sex? Here? No, not what I called for,” you chuckle.
He gets up from the floor, looking embarrassed and guilty, a bulge in his pants betraying how seriously he intended to take you right there. It has been two weeks since you’ve gotten to sleep over. He was away on mission last weekend and who knows when he’ll be called up again. Shame to let that enthusiasm go to waste…
“But,” you drawl, creeping forward, your hand cupping him gently.
He stirs so easily at contact. Steve’s always been eager to ‘practice,’ to build prowess in knowing the female body, and he’s used yours to do it, but you never expected him to whine in desire.
Without waiting for more encouragement, he lowers his mouth to your neck again. “Yeah?”
His fingers use their rough friction to nudge your skirt up over your hips until he can run one digit along the waistband of your stockings.
You feel the fabric in your palm stretch tighter. Steve twitches.
“It’s okay to do this,” he breaths, “even if it’s uncalled for?”
The spider-walking of his touch down your stomach is deliberate. He’s giving you time to tell him you’re not interested or this isn’t the place, but you are, in fact, pretty interested and do not care if this is the place.
When no response comes as he finds your mound, Steve drags one finger through your folds. He lets a hot sigh roll across your skin in satisfaction of discovering the slick spot he can stoke back to life.
Ever since he first asked how he could please you, it’s been about Steve wanting to learn a woman’s pleasure, but his desire always seems incidental. He’ll come anyway. He’s getting off in addition. You get that; it’s the whole deal, but there are other lessons Steve, in particular, could learn. One of them is that he can be the focus, too.
Instead, he’s focused on holding back, apparently, because he bites his lip and doesn’t lean into your hand. He doesn’t pull away either. He moves to slip two fingers into you and curl them.
This leads you to a theory of why, though you’re surprised to have the brainpower. “Have you not…touched yourself in weeks?”
Steve grunts in annoyance. “I didn’t think it would be that long.”
“So—“ keeping your voice silky and sweet “—no need to edge yourself after all that.”
“Edge?” he asks.
Lessons, lessons, lessons.
“It’s called ‘edging’ or ‘delayed gratification,’ yeah.”
You can practically hear his thoughts as his eyes roam your body. Should he stop? Should he continue? Should he tough it out and wait the few hours till the workday is done? Steve is the type to think of denial as the height of self-control, so you don’t know which side he’ll land on when he’s needy with his finger on the button of satisfaction.
He can have it all, and he can have it right now. You tentatively roll his tender balls to prove a point, but that seems only to make his inner conflict worse, his brows knitting together, strained.
Until it doesn’t.
“No,” Steve says, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, staring at you feverishly. “No, I don’t want to delay anymore.”
To put him out of his misery, you offer your help, pulling his hand away, rolling down the layers in his way until mid-thigh (look, hose are a bitch to take off and put on, so at work, you’re improvising), and bending directly over your desk. Head turned to the side, you watch the shadow of him stepping up behind you, lowering the fly of his slacks and pumping his shaft until he’s hard.
All in total, it takes four seconds or so, but the performance of breaking the man’s character down to a lustful mess plays out an entire scene.
Steve squats down slightly to roll his cockhead through your folds and thrusts shallowly. The delicious stretch and rising fullness make your eyes flutter shut.
He’s always worth the wait. You’ll miss this when he’s done with you.
His feet spread apart as he kneads your ass and opens you wide.
“So good,” he groans. “Did you think of me? Did you touch yourself thinking of this?”
“Yes,” you gasp on a deep thrust.
If he’s expecting more words, he’s not getting them, not when the drag of him inside and out pools all your attention like a tide away from your brain.
The afternoon sun’s angle shows the silhouette of Steve stretching tall so he can fuck toward that spongy spot sending tingles all over your body, but just as soon as he sets a rhythm, he pulls out.
“Uh, no,” he moans, gripping his dick like it’s hurting him, “’s why I wanted my mouth on you first…so…so close.”
Steve’s ready to cum within minutes of sinking into your pussy. That’s a boost to your ego if there ever was one. However, he needs release, and from the look of his blown pupils, he needs it to be as intense as possible. He needs connection not just physically.
If Steve desires a more connective experience, you’ll have to give him eye contact.
Mirroring his starting position, you drop delicately to your knees in front of him, head inches away from your desktop.
“Oh god,” he whines from somewhere deep in his chest, but his eyes never leave you while your hand replaces his.
The first brush of your lips sends him lurching forward to grip the poor particleboard behind you, and you do blink long and languid at the musky taste of him.
His mouth hangs open, too, as you bob, taking only a few inches each time, focusing on the sensitive head. You make the tip of your tongue firm and pointed to draw patterns along veins you know by heart. His hips buck against his will, and though you can’t teach it him without words, this is called ‘fucking your face.’
It’s delightful to see the hazy blue of his eyes soften in wonder. It’s validation itself to hear him praise the sheer perfection of you.
“Shit,” Steve moans, “I—I—“ but he breaks off in a euphoric (and loud) exhale.
Cum begins to flood your throat and mouth, and there’s a rustle of something knocked over above you. A soft wad of tissues tucks under your chin just as the overflow breeches the corner of your lips.
“Too long. Waited too long. Sorry, should have warned you,” he admits brokenly. It is significantly more than usual, you note.
Steve pulls out to finish coming in his makeshift pad and tries to bat the box closer to you for more.
You rip out a few to spit in.
All-in-all, you’re pleased to have such a wild affect on a man, and Steve is not just any man at that.
He takes all the tissues and buries them under some papers in your trashcan. He collects himself, zipping his dignity back into place while you shimmy up your tights and panties.
Steve then pulls you into his chest, leaving a gentle kiss as the last taste on your lips. “I’ll give you back threefold tonight, okay?” he assures, low and intimate. “Sorry, I got…overexcited.”
He releases you from the hug.
“Well, I’ll only be there at a decent hour if you sign these damn papers, Captain.”
Steve looks confused, eyes darting to the stack he luckily did not tip off the edge of your desk. It takes another four seconds for him to remember that there was a real reason he was called.
“Yes, ma’am, right away, but also—” he scrunches his nose “—I’m just going to crack this because—“ Steve doesn’t bother completing the thought. He simply props the window open at the lowest notch. Across the small room, he stares at you smoothing a hand over your hair, beaming.
“You’re so beautiful.”
Goofy. Honest. Adorable.
“It’s a good line, Cap,” you chuckle then double tap the stack of forms.
He rushes over, ever the fast-learner, ever the eager participant, ever ready (usually) to get down to business.
Busy. Busy. Busy.
Thank god it’s Friday.
a/n: is it acceptable?
[Main Masterlist; Steve Rogers One-Shots; Ko-Fi]
@Supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries @veryprairieberry @bitchy-bi-trash @rogersbarber @blogbog710 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thiquefunlover63 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @stellar-solar-flare
