Avenger's One-shots and Preferences

Mr. Vanilla- Steve Rogers

I saw Knives Out a while back, and the whole time I saw actor Chris Evans, I could only think of Cap every time his character swore or acted all gruff and money-grubbing. It's just so hard to imagine Evans as anything other than clean cut Captain America now (but he still looks hot in anything including a sweater). So this one-shot has the reader is married to Steve, and one day he discovers some spicy stuff on the reader's laptop one day and wonders about how he really thinks about him.

Some suggestive, steamy stuff in this one. Enjoy.

"Honey, I'm home," your husband Steve calls out as he steps into the house. "(y/n)?" he looks around the house hoping you were somewhere nearby. He found a note on the table in the kitchen. He reads it out loud:

Went to the store for more eggs. I swear, hubby, you must go through at least five dozen of these a day, I should think about shopping at Costco now. 

Still love you,

(y/n) :)

Steve chuckled at little when he read the letter. Actually he probably eats around four dozen or so eggs in a day, you were just exaggerating. One thing Steve also noticed was your opened laptop. For the loving super soldier, Steve had noticed you've been spending an unusual amount of time on your laptop recently. Sure, you sometimes write short stories and publish them on a blog for a living, but it still felt odd.

Steve knew he shouldn't as this would be an upmost invasion of your privacy, but curiosity got the best of him. Steve sits down and turns on the laptop. To no one's surprise, it was password protected. Steve tried several possible combinations, but he couldn't get through. He had to think about it for a bit before he thought of one possible password. He takes a deep breath and types it in, "Americasass."
And just like that, he was in. Steve had some mixed feelings about that password, but it was nice to know how much you thoroughly enjoy that one part of his body (nudge, nudge, wink, wink ;))

So anyway, now that Steve was in, he noticed there was minimized tab on your computer. He shouldn't do this, he know he REALLY shouldn't do this, but he wanted to know what could you possibly be hiding.
He clicks on the tab and dares to look at what was on it. He reads the title on top of the page. He guessed it must be your blog where you publish your short stories.

Now Steve's never read any of your stories. Hell, you never actually let him read them. So he scrolls down to see what your latest stories were all about that you spent more time staring at the screen then you do at him,
The first thing he notices is one particular story that you recently published. The cover looked something akin to Fifty Shades of Grey. The first few sentences though sounded like Carrie's narration from Sex and the City. At this point, Steve knew he should definitely turn off the laptop and walk away. But he's also invested this much into the intro, so there's no going back now.

Five minutes in, and Steve couldn't even take his eyes off the screen with all the "suggestive" content wrote. The woman in this story he figured is supposed to be you, or at least the you portrayed yourself in your female character. However, the leading man, he thought was supposed to be him, wasn't anything like Steve. Well yeah, the characteristics were pretty much the same...but the man in the story, the things he was doing with the woman...that was definitely NOT Steve.
Bondage, spanking, ice cubes, riding crops. Those were only a few things portrayed in this short story. The rest of it was a bit too kinky for Steve to even put into words, in fact, a whole lot of it looked like something he assumed was something one would see in a modern porn film.

The front door opens, "Honey, I'm home!" Steve hears your voice, so he quickly turns off the laptop.
"I bought more eggs," you announce, grocery bags in hand, giving Steve a sweet kiss on the cheek, "strong man like yourself needs to keep up with his protein intake." "It's always good to know one of us is looking out for my figure," Steve says in a somewhat monotone voice, which you notice. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" you asked concern, "Don't think there's gonna be enough eggs to last the week? Maybe I can use some of them to make a quiche for dinner. And maybe afterwards..." you lean over and place a hand on Steve's knee in a suggestive manner. "You sure that's what you want?" Steve asks. "What do you mean?" You seem confused; when it initiating sex with your husband, he rarely said no.