I Know Exactly Where This Leads - Steve Rogers (Smut) (One Shot)
Summary: Congratulations to Tiff @barnesafterglow on hitting 1k, this my submission for her #all’s well writing challenge. Honestly songs always set the pace for how my piece goes and the delicious combination of taylor swift and marvel just has me highly motivated. The song I have picked is style - taylor swift, 1989, the lyric is “I should just tell you to leave, cause I,”. I had so much fun writing this and listening to Taylor.I hope you enjoy reading! (this piece delves off course to the events post civil war)
Pairing:Steve Rogers x fem!Reader
Warnings:Smut 18+ Minors DNI, angst, fluff, Steve is a good dom regularly checking in, praise kink, size kink, swearing, edging the reader, oral fem receiving, also mr. steve rogers is a filthy filthy dirty talker and it shows here, aftercare, spoken feelings(gets a lil angsty), nomad steve (idk if this is a warning)
Returning back home during the late hours, there is a sense of calm. No one else is awake, and thoughts, those can finally crash away.
You take off the jacket, stolen from him. Before he left, left you all alone. You walk through the apartment, grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen.
A figure shifts across the living room, “Who the fuck is there?” You move along the wall demanding an answer; hand trying to find the light switch.
Strong hands grab your waist just as you turn the lights on and form a fist to punch the intruder.
Your raised right hook stops midway. Mischievous blue eyes, crinkle with mirth as they gaze into your own.
Steve.
“What the fuck, Steve?” You’re nothing short of bewildered. For all you knew he was supposed to be gone with the wind. Undercover. Unseen. A Nomad.
“I can’t return to see my best girl?” He raises an eyebrow.
“The best girl you left?” You question voice full of defiance.
“Doll, you sided with him.” Steve feels the distaste in his mouth at the memories that surged.
“You could have told him.” You argue again, Steve’s grip on your hips tightens.
“Doll, I’m not here to talk about bygones.”
You gaze up at him confused, he steps closer, you feel the heat of his chest against yours, your palms on his biceps.
“I’m here for you.” Steve’s voice is in the deep baritone, that he always uses to coax you, that whispers dirty nothings into your skin.
