#Steve manages to pull hot girls

[solarmorrigan]

cw: implied sexual content, mentions of anxiety/PTSD responses

-

The first time Eddie lifts him off his feet, Steve is pretty sure he has an out of body experience.

He’s never dated anyone as strong as he is, is the thing. It isn’t that he hadn’t dated girls who were strong—cheerleading takes more muscle than many people seem to think, and there had been a couple of girls from the soccer team besides that—but none of them had been strong enough to just casually lift Steve up.

But Eddie does it. He does it mid-makeout session, doesn’t even break the kiss as he gets his hands under Steve’s thighs and lifts him up to sit on the counter he’d been pinned against. And maybe it doesn’t break Eddie’s concentration, but it shatters Steve’s.

He stops kissing back long enough to make Eddie pull away and ask, “What’s wrong?”

Wrong? Steve’s heart is racing, his face is flushed, his lips are kiss-bruised, and he’s sitting on top of his kitchen counter because Eddie had put him there – just grabbed his legs and hoisted him up, left his hands resting on Steve’s thighs, and Steve can feel them burning through his jeans, which are suddenly quite a bit tighter.

Nothing is wrong.

“That was hot,” Steve blurts, and Eddie blinks at him.

“What? Me lifting you up?”

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

A slow smirk spreads across Eddie’s face. “You like that?” he asks. “That I can throw you around a little?”

“Yeah,” Steve rasps, surprising even himself with the raw want in his voice. Given his history with people throwing him around, it shouldn’t be something he wants, but the more he thinks about it—the more he thinks about Eddie doing it—the more appealing it becomes.

“The information is noted and will be filed away for later consideration,” Eddie says, like the fucking nerd he is, and when he leans back in to kiss Steve, he digs his fingers into Steve’s thighs, holding him tight, like he might leave little bruises when he pulls away. (Steve hopes he does.)

Eddie doesn’t abuse the knowledge he’s been given, but he does put it to good use.

He pulls Steve across the couch and into his lap, holding him close with his arms looped around his waist, making Steve feel wanted and warm.

He manages to pick Steve up and spin him around, laughing as he does so, making Steve laugh, making him feel light and adored.

He carries Steve to the bedroom, his hands hooked firmly under Steve’s ass, Steve’s legs wrapped around his hips, arms around his shoulders, and tosses him onto the bed, making Steve feel very much like he wants Eddie to fuck him.

Then, reasonably assured that Steve is enjoying the treatment, Eddie ups his game. He pins Steve to the wall of the bedroom one evening, fisting a hand in his shirt and pushing him back, leaning heavily into his space, and Steve is for a moment viscerally reminded of another time and place. He thinks about the smell of lake water and dust, of the prick of sharp glass against his skin, of the frightened and desperate look in Eddie’s eyes.

But the memory is chased away by the feeling of Eddie’s lips on his. This is so much better – this is Eddie’s free hand running gently through Steve’s hair, this is the warm, familiar weight of Eddie’s body pressing into him, this is Eddie’s thigh shoved between Steve’s legs. This is good.

Eddie grips Steve’s hair close to his scalp and pulls. Steve moans and mindlessly grinds down.

It becomes a new and intimate normal, something they barely even have to think about, something that just feels right. Even when Steve starts out on top, the instigator, the one in control, it’s easy for Eddie to turn the tables.

As Steve straddles him on the bed now, both their shirts lost but the effort to rid themselves of their pants temporarily derailed, Steve is too eager in his pursuit of Eddie’s mouth to notice the coiling tension in the body below him.

He doesn’t notice until the tension springs, and Steve finds himself rolled onto his back with Eddie weighing him down. Quicker than Steve can keep up, Eddie is straddling his waist, taking his wrists and pulling his arms above his head, pinning them to the mattress.

Instinctively, Steve struggles against the hold, but he has no leverage, and Eddie’s grip remains firm. Steve can’t move – yet the expected wave of panic never comes.

He doesn’t feel trapped beneath Eddie, he feels secure, like Eddie is shielding him, keeping him safe. The hold on his wrists keeps him tethered to the Earth when the rest of him feels like floating away, and Steve tugs a little more so Eddie will grip him tighter. He hopes it leaves marks, wants to wear the bruises like bracelets in the shape of Eddie’s fingers.

Then Eddie pulls back, ends the kiss to ask, “This okay?”

He sounds serious, like he really wants to know, like he’ll let Steve go the moment he asks, which is precisely why Steve nods quickly and begs, “Please don’t stop.”

And Eddie grins and leans back in for another kiss, holding Steve tight.

[Prompt: Rolling over in bed, switching positions during a kiss]

[blushweddinggowns]

I'm all for the angsty overhearing a conversation trope where it's all sad because of a misunderstanding. But I also love the opposite. Overhearing a conversation where the other person is just singing their praises. Especially with Steve and Eddie.

Like Steve being very aware that he likes Eddie, but way too afraid of rejection to actually do anything about it. So he just pines away, and gets closer and closer to him with the full expectation of it never going anywhere. Until one day, he comes to pick Dustin up from Hellfire too early, and he can hear everyone talking through the door. About him. But mostly it's Eddie, his loud voice carrying across the room. And he's just raving about him, and somehow managing to bring him up in conversations that have nothing to do with him.

Do you remember that time Steve saved my life by shoving my guts back into my body? Yeah, that's the level of skill and luck you're going to need to survive this.

Did you guys know that Steve actually gave me this background music? He's weirdly knowledgeable about classical stuff. Isn't that cool? He's so smart and-oh, yeah, the merchant agrees to the deal.

So uh, is Steve maybe seeing anyone? He isn't right? Like he would tell me if he was, wouldn't he?

And he doesn't give a single fuck at the collective groaning of the group whenever he gets going, never failing to pull out the I almost Died saving the world with you card to get them to shut up. And by the time it actually ends, Steve is a glowing, blushing mess who can't stop smiling.

Or the other way around. With Eddie full on assuming he has 0 shot because Steve's, Steve.

The golden boy who could obviously never be into him like that, or any other guy for that matter. So he doesn't do anything about his feelings, he just hangs out with him more and more and falls for him more and more, waiting for the inevitable day when he gets a girlfriend and his fantasies could finally die. Except one day, he spends the night at Steve's, but he isn't in bed when he wakes up. He goes to find him, just to hear him downstairs loudly talking to Robin. Because neither of them know the concept of inside voices when they're together. And he waits at the top, listening in just for the fuck of it, but mostly because he doesn't want to interrupt.

"I just feel like bed sharing the way you guys do is gay as hell," Robin sighed, "Especially at your age. Also, should we even be talking about this with him in the house?"

And before Eddie has time to freak out over that and the possibility he's gotten caught with his feelings, Steve is already answering, "I know right? And don't worry about it, he sleeps like the dead. But I don't know what to do about it. He still hasn't done anything. Am I just reading this whole thing wrong?"

"Well you could try making the first move instead of trying to trick him into doing it," Robin tried.

"And ruin our friendship incase I'm wrong? Yeah, no. Besides, I go like, full dumbass around him when I'm nervous. He's too hot. I'd probably walk into a wall in the middle of professing my undying love."

"Yeah," Robin sighed, "You probably would."

And Eddie is just having a moment upstairs. A full on I think I may have to jump for joy moment. Or even, I think I'm five seconds away from squealing like a teenage girl moment.

Yeah, I like that shit.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

A Perfect 40

CCF Spring Break Prompt: Sunscreen | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Pre-Steddie | CW: Equal Opportunity Objectification | Tags: AU, Famous Corroded Coffin, Meet Cute, Wet T-Shirt Contest, Gay & Horny Eddie Munson, Confident & Big Dicked Steve Harrington

Eddie is kicked back on the panel, his paddles piled up in front of him. He's the worst person to judge a wet t-shirt contest. He's not exactly a boob man. But the other three were thrilled, so he was game. He'll just give all the girls 10s and call it a day.

They parade each contestant out, wet, white tees clinging to their bare breasts and true to his word, it's 10s from him. Everybody's going home happy on his watch.

Then, Eddie finds a good reason to sit up straight. The only straight he'll ever be.

There's a guy, with perfect hair, and a skintight white shirt clinging to his torso, showing the thick thatch of chest hair underneath. And a slight softness at the middle, offsetting his broad fucking shoulders.

And then the swim trunks. The goddamn swim trunks. They're wet, too, and ain't hiding shit. The bulge that the material is clinging to is gonna drive Eddie insane, right here in public. He looks big. Eddie likes big.

He licks his lips, making eye contact with this perfect 10.

Then, Eddie's distraught. He wasted all those previous perfect 10s on boobs. Now, he sees tits. Manly, hairy tits, a happy trail showing through the white fabric, and that goddamn cock on display that he wants to get up close and personal with immediately. This is the one that deserves the highest score. The other guys are holding up middling numbers, fives, and a disgraceful three from Goodie, and Eddie has to act. He reaches next to him and grabs Gareth's ten paddle. And holds it up along with his own. Giving him a 20. 

The guy laughs, and it's not enough, he bullies another 10 paddle away from Goodie, and snaps his fingers at Jeff, who relinquishes his without a fuss. 

40. 

This guy deserves a 40, and Eddie's gonna give it to him.

And then he winks. He winks at Eddie. 

Eddie reaches for Gareth's 9, the next best thing, and gets his hand slapped in the process.

Oh well. 40 will do.

As far as Eddie's concerned, get this guy his prize money. His crown. He's obviously the chosen one. The winner.

One of the stage managers is trying to argue behind them that Eddie's cheating, and it's not allowed. Eddie argues that no rules were laid out that said he only could use one paddle at a time.

He's pedantic, but not wrong. 

They eventually stop arguing with him, crown some bleach blonde with big boobs the winner, and the hot guy is given some sort of honorary runner-up. A concession to try and keep Eddie's mouth shut.

He won't cause a scene, but they are the goddamn, dirty cheaters. Not him. He just gamed the system. There's a difference.

Then, the stage clears, and Mr. Body Hair is gone.

Leaving Eddie bereft. 

Backstage, they get their swag bags for participating and there's only one prize Eddie wants in the bottom of his cereal box. 

Eddie steps out onto the beach, and scans the surrounding area. He finally spots him, pulling off his shirt. Which, amazing. Less amazing is his girlfriend fussing over him, rubbing him with a towel, then putting more sunscreen on him.

Lucky broad. 

Eddie's about to turn around and head back, when she meets his eyes. And nudges the guy, who turns. 

He grins, striding towards Eddie, and there's a glob of sunscreen clinging to his nose. Eddie reaches out and rubs it in, paying extra attention to the pair of moles on his cheek. The guy closes his eyes and lets Eddie do it.

Goddamn.

"The real winner, robbed," Eddie says, "I'm Eddie."

"Steve," the guy answers.

"Well, you should have won, Steve. Rigged system. It's an injustice. Maybe a class action lawsuit in the making. I'll join you."

Steve smiles.

"They didn't say a guy couldn't enter," Steve quips, and that's the exact kind of disobedience and bending of rules Eddie fully appreciates.

"And they didn't say I couldn't use all the paddles I could hold," Eddie banters back. Then he reaches for his wallet. Thumbs through it. He doesn't have enough to match the original prize money, but he takes out the hundred dollar bills he does have.

"I'll pay up. Even if they won't," Eddie says, and Steve shakes his head.

"No way, I'm not taking your money. I just did it for fun."

"Don't make me put it in your g-string."

Steve laughs, looking down, "I'm not wearing a g-string."

Eddie's well aware of that, but banters back, "Damn. Ruin a guy's dream, why dontcha?"

Steve tries to press it back into Eddie's chest as he laughs.

"He won't take it, but I will. That's a month's rent, dingus," Steve's girlfriend says, and Eddie hands it over. She's been damn cool about the whole thing.

"Robin!" he chides. "I'm sorry. I swear she's housebroken."

She kicks him in the shin, and he kicks back.

Definitely not a girlfriend. Sister? 

"Best friend," Steve says, as if he's reading Eddie's mind, "Most days. When she's not acting like this."

Best friend? Eddie's lucky day.

"Well, in that case," Eddie says, really turning up the charm, "You wanna get out of here? I have ten inches I could settle up with."

Steve raises an eyebrow, challenging his claim wordlessly, and Eddie laughs, delighted at being called out. Nobody calls him out anymore. That's the price of fame. Yes men. Steve doesn't seem like a yes man.

Eddie grins, flirting, "Okay, I don't. But you won't tell anybody, right? That'll be our little secret. You and me. Eddie and Steve."

Steve's a good sport, that much is obvious, especially when he banters back, "Deal. I won't get out the tape measure if you don't."

"That's mighty kind of you."

"I wouldn't want to show you up," Steve quips, grinning.

Eddie glances at Steve's wet trunks, and just grins devilishly.

Oh, Eddie's in trouble with this one. Big trouble.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries, check out @corrodedcoffinfest to read takes on Spring Break prompts, or to offer up your own!

[hungharrington]

spread

hey guys long time no see ! this was purely inspired bcos i think its HOT when guys hold their gfs legs open when they fuck. naturally im thinking of steve <3 enjoy! MDNI this entire blog is 18+ fem!reader

Fire burns beneath your skin.

Pure flames of desire that seem to start in your gut, licking and settling alight every nerve in your body. The fire within you hums and you burn up deliciously in it, trying so hard to stay still and feel everything.

Your breath hits the pillow, its soft feel pressed up against your cheek. Steve's chest drags against your bare back. You can feel the muscles of his chest shift, the drag of his chest hair as his bicep bulges over and over from a repeated motion.

The motion being his hand, buried between your thighs.

"Want you to..." Steve's voice breathes in your ear, that rasp in it that clues you in to how turned on he is. How keyed up he is. His forearm nudges at your thigh, pressing it outwards. "Want you to keep 'em spread for me, baby."

You swallow a gasp as his thumb passes over your clit teasingly. You nod against the pillow and your thighs part further without even thinking about it.

"That's it," Steve coos. This close, you can feel the curl of his smile against your neck. He's practically purring when he says, "That's my girl."

You're spreading yourself for him, your drooling cunt on display for him to play with, and the thought only fuels the dribbling, burning hot feeling in your gut. A whimpery noise pulls from your throat.

Steve kisses the skin of your neck generously, slow languid kisses that make your nipples peak against the sheets. A scrape of teeth. Heat burns between the shared skin.

Long, thick fingers draw circles at your entrance and you can't help how your back arches to push down onto them, a stuttering gasp escaping you. He's been teasing you for too damn long tonight.

"S-Steve."

His name has never sounded so filthy.

"Mm? What is it, baby?"

He's still circling your entrance tantalizingly, his thumb dancing over your clit so perfectly, so teasingly. Asshole. Teasing, stupidly hot, too-good-with-his-fingers asshole.

"Please," Is all you can manage, voice weak.

It's all you need for Steve give in, sinking his finger into your cunt and pulling simultaneous groans from both of you. You can feel the rumble of it against your spine. Your head tips back instinctively, your cunt fluttering in bliss.

Steve doesn't give you a moment to relax into it, another finger joining as he pumps them in. Lewd noises leak out as his fingers setting a punishing pace. They curl expertly, hitting the spot that makes your hole clench around him with every thrust of his fingers.

You clutch the sheets, your leg quivering and threatening to fall. A moan you can't contain pools in your chest and you bury your face in the pillow to muffle it.

Your hand shoots down to hold Steve's forearm — half to make sure he won't stop, half to keep yourself from falling apart too soon.

"God, look at you," Steve murmurs, his voice hot with praise.

All your whimpery noises, pressed into the pillow, going straight to his cock. It thickens in his boxers, straining against the fabric and Steve shivers in anticipation.

You can feel his trail of kisses up your neck but you know he’s watching the way your hips rock down onto his fingers. A fiery desire licks up your spine at the hardness you feel behind you. You feel yourself grow slicker at the feel of it, your mouth almost watering.

Steve's hips rolls up against yours roughly, no doubt eager to gain the same pleasure you were getting. His quiet grunts mix with your whiny breathes, pleasure burning and bubbling hotter and hotter.

Then a filthy moan scrapes out his throat when you clench down around his fingers — which disappear between your legs in a moment.

You barely get a moment to pout, a soft whine sounding, before you hear the fabric of his boxers being pushed down. It's frantic sounding, like he can't wait another second, like he needs to be buried inside you. You need it just as bad. You whine again.

"Sh, sh, sh, sh," Steve soothes, all too aware of your every noise. His needy baby. "I know, I got you."

His hand finds the bend in your knee and he holds it for you, keeping you spread for him. His nose nuzzles along your neck, kissing and suckling as he finally, finally, sinks his cock into you in one slow stroke.

You keen. A pitiful cry escapes your lips, the coil in your tummy twisting tighter at the gravelly moan that Steve makes. His hot breath of your neck, his closeness, the stretch of him inside you — you quiver and whimper, your cunt gushing on his cock.

"Oh f-fuck, honey," There's that whiny hitch in Steve's words now, the way there always is when nears pussy drunk.

You can feel the urge to close your shaky legs with how you cunt throbs in pleasure but Steve's hand is still tucked under your knee, keeping them apart, as he starts to rock into you.

The lewd noises from before return, the wet sound of your slick as Steve ruts into you. His hips move fast, his pace building.

A ragged moan drools from your lips and you push your head back instinctively, searching for more Steve. He's there already, his kisses resuming up your neck feverishly, his thrusts not faltering.

"Ste— Stevie," You gasp needily, letting one of your hands slip over your waist to hold him however you can. Your fingers find his bicep and you clutch it, breathy noises punched out with every roll of his hips. Steve groans loudly.

"God, you feel so fuckin' good around me," He pants, thick cock driving into you steadily enough to make you melt. He drops his hold on your leg for a moment, his hand darting up to your face. He pushes back the hair in your face, his lips kissing the exposed skin as he does.

"My pretty fuckin' girl," He hums, voice wavering in his own pleasure.

Your thighs start to ease close without thinking and Steve snakes his hand down, slapping lightly at your clit with his large hand. It makes you squeal, your legs jumping apart and your hole clenching down on his cock deliciously. Steve moans again, a thread of a whine in it.

"Told you," He huffs breathlessly, lips dragging up the sensitive skin of your neck. He nips at your ear. You whimper. "To keep 'em spread for me. You can- you can do that f'me, can't you?"

It's a trick question because there's no way you can answer anything right now. Steve's thrusts slow for a moment, as if he's giving you a moment's reprieve, only for you to realise it's for a more sinister reason all together.

He shifts forward and lets his hand find its place under your knee again, holding your legs apart, and this time when he fucks back in, your whole body twitches.

You make a pitiful noise, something between a moan and a gasp. And then you make it again and again, as Steve drives his cock into your cunt, hitting the spot every single time.

"Oh, there she is." Steve coos. "Is that it, yeah? That spot feel good, honey?"

It would nearly be embarrassing, the little uh, uh, uh's you keep making, if it didn't feel so fucking good. You thought you were on fire before but now you're molten. Your skin blazes. Pleasure twists the coil in your gut tighter. You clench down on Steve's cock and gush at the whimpery noise he makes.

"I- ngh, shit—" He's panting now, beginning to become undone at the silky feel of you wrapped around him. "I asked -ah- you a question, baby."

You wail softly into the pillow, head curling in. Your head swims in delirious pleasure, the question he asked a minute ago long gone. You whine at his cruelty, your mind utterly distracted by the filthy squelchy noises he's fucking out of you.

"B-Baby can't think right now?" Steve teases, his thrusts turning shallow but faster. He hikes your leg up higher, pulled back towards his hairy thigh. "Getting fucked too good, huh?"

"Uh huh," Your voice comes out all whiny, the words drooling out your mouth. Your cheek brushes the pillow as you reply, eyes screwing up as the tightness in your stomach looms closer, hotter, nearly bursting. You grip his bicep tighter.

"Pleasepleaseplease, don't- don't stop, baby, I'm— I'm," The words rush out of you in a frantic babble. "Please, fuck- I'm, uh,"

A moan warbles out of Steve at your pleading, feeling his balls draw up as his own orgasm creeps up on him. He dutifully listens to his baby, still fucking himself into you with a lustful fervor.

"Gonna cum?" He grunts. You whine.

"I wanna see you cum," Steve rasps, his tummy flexing as he tries to hold back his mounting pleasure. "C'mon, baby, cum all over my cock, yeah? Show me how good it is."

His hand slips from your beneath your knee once more, sliding down to pat at your clit and it's all it takes. You unravel. The heat in your bloodstream gives way to pure euphoria, confetti pumping through your body as you gasp and moan. Your cunt clenches and flutters, throbbing in just the right way.

Steve's hips stutter, the sudden snugness of you pushing him over the edge. It's everything to hear the little inhale he does; the whimper he makes as his cock twitches inside you, dribbling hot ropes of cum.

He keeps moving, milking out every dreg of pleasure for the both of you. Your hand on his arm shifts, moving up, searching for his face and when you tangle your hands in his hair, it's to turn and kiss him. It's sloppy, your lips barely aligned. Still, it hums with love.

The kiss breaks. Slowly, the pleasure and his movements taper off, til Steve's easing himself out of you. A warm buzz sits over the room, satisfaction rolling off the both of you in waves. You feel faint, a sluggish happy feeling settling into your skin.

"Mm, you okay?" Steve's voice sounds from behind you.

You're still snuggled close together, Steve dropping his head into the crook of your neck to nuzzle into it. You huff a happy laugh, reaching a hand up to bury it into his hair like you know he loves.

"More than okay." You sigh happily. Steve's responding hum vibrates against your shoulder. "You just fucked my brains out, baby."

Steve makes a little noise, a half-hearted snort. He kisses the curve of your shoulder again. "Just doin' my job."

[lucy-literates]

Reunited

A/N: requests are open, hope you enjoy!

Warning: spoilers for Thunderbolts* ahead, sad start (it gets better I promise)

Synopsis: You and Bucky parted ways many years ago, it wasn’t your fault though. After the blip, you spent 2 years searching the world for him. Gone. You turned to Val, working for her as an assassin. After being assigned to assassinate Yelena, you become reunited with your long lost boyfriend.

Your family dissipated around you, half of the Avengers turning to ash. You were too late, you had failed and now half the world was being punished for it. Which half? Who knows. You sped over to where you saw the purple giant standing, and disappearing. “Bucky!” You shouted, out of breath. “Bucky!” You looked around frantically. You saw Steve kneeling on the ground, tears brimming his eyes. Bruce was groaning on the ground a few meters away.

You made eye contact with Steve, he shook his head. Your eyes welled up, tears spilling hot and heavy down your cheeks. The one person who made you feel seen, heard, and loved, was gone.

You spent the next 2 years jumping from country to country, trying to see if Bucky had popped up somewhere else. On the 2 year anniversary of the blip, you gave up and return to the Avengers tower.

Another 3 years passed, you lived in a place on your own. You were a for-hire assassin, doing other people dirty work. That was, until a bright gold circle appeared in the middle of your lonely apartment. Dr Strange came through and told you that you were needed. You donned your battle armour and stepped through.

It didn’t occur to either you or Bucky that you would be fighting the same fight. You stepped next to the girl gang, hopping up on the Pegasus with Valkyrie and riding into battle. After Tony had snapped his fingers, the aliens you were fighting disintegrated. You, and all the hero’s around you, cheered. Soon, golden circled opened all over the field, everyone stepped through to return home.

You basically became non-contact after that. Didn’t keep up with the or any current world events. Until, a woman named Val was in your apartment after you returned from a grocery trip and offered you an assassin contract. You hesitantly accepted and were immediately given your first mission. After spending a long time, time you lost track of, working for Val, you were given the mission. Go to the underground bunker, find the information, and get out.

Upon arriving, you saw a platinum blond bob run into the building, and swiftly followed it. You took an elevator down to the ground level, immediately dashing out and hiding behind a crate. What you saw confused you. Ghost, Taskmaster, John Walker, and Yelena were all going after each other. Yelena was hovering over Ghost on the ground, the perfect opportunity. You bolted through, grabbed her by the neck and flung her across the room. This resulted in you being hit in the head with a vibranium shield.

Fights ensued, Taskmaster died, Bob emerged. The room started counting down, you made it out by working together, as a team. Yuck. You made it out of the bunker, escaped with everyone but Bob. You spotted a red limousine speeding through the desert, horn honking sporadically. A big man in a red suit jumped out, shouting after Yelena as she groaned and burning her head in her hands with shame.

You were sitting in the back of the car when you begun being shot at. John did the best he could to shield you all, Yelena shooting back until, one by one, the cars erupted. Through the smoke, you saw a motorbike race through. The head full of hair made you gasp, your heart fluttering. Was he back? Then he pulled out a gun. Shot a disk under your car, causing it to shoot off the ground and over turn. It knocked you all out.

You come to in what looks like an abandoned auto shop. You’re in a small storage room, maybe the managers office? You heard voices outside the room, sounded like everyone shouting “Bob”. You had been tied up with a rope, but managed to get your feet under yourself, push up, open the door with your foot, and walk out. The door creaked at it opened, causing the group to turn to you. You scanned the so called “team” on the floor, then the man leaning again the window with a phone to his ear. He looked up and his whole demeanour changed. His posture straightened, turned his whole body to you and quickly hung up the phone.

He took slow, tentative steps towards you until you were nearly chest to chest. He reached a hand up, your piercing eyes watched his every movement, and tucked a stray hair behind your ear. You searched his eyes and found longing, hope, and a hint of something you don’t know how to describe. When he had disappeared, your relationship wasn’t new, but it was slow. There hadn’t been anything sexual, but you had been working up to it. That was all you had craved those past nearly 7 years.

He moved behind you and untied your rope, still yet to speak. He took your hand, and walked you back into the office. You sat on the desk while he leaned again the wall, resetting the distance and disbelief. You could hear the group outside trying to theorise what was happening.

Buckley slowly sauntered up to you, you kept your eyes glued to the floor. Your eyes brimmed with tears. You watched him out of the corner of your eye until he was standing in front of you. His fingers lifted your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. His ocean blue eyes also brimmed with tears, heart break on his face. “Where were you?” He whispered. A tear slid down your cheek as you delve into what happened since the blip.

He stood in silence and listened. After you finished your story, he pulled you up and wrapped his arms around you. You had missed this. He was toned, clearly still working out. His beard scratched the side of your forehead as you wrapped your arms around him. He took your hands from behind his back and wrapped them around his neck. His hands wrapping around your waist as he picked you up, you wrapped your leg around his hips in return.

Then you heard the door squeak open. You lifted your head from Bucky's neck to see the Thunderbolts* standing there in shock. “I was right!” Alexi boomed, “They are old lovers,” he laughed in satisfaction. You heard Bucky grumble and hold you tighter, clearly not wanting to let you go. You spent another 5 minutes like that before detaching and heading back to the city.

After getting your asses handed to you by Sentry, you find yourself following Yelena into the Void, and Bucky followed after you. There was a whoosh of cold air and you open your eyes to that day, 7 years ago. You watch in agony as Bucky disappeared again and again, watching the look that the old you and Steve shared. You heard a shout and a thump behind you and you turn around, confused, to see Bucky lying face down in the dirt.

He lifts his head and swift roses to his feet, then he sees what haunts you, what guilts you the most. He watched himself become ash, watched the look his best friend shared with his girlfriend, watched you as tears slid down your cheeks. You feel his hands hold your face, a stark contrast between his metal hand and his flesh hand. You turn to look at him, sadness in his eyes. “This is one of your guiltiest memories?” He prodded. All you could do was nod, the lump in your through was too big to talk past.

“Doll, you couldn’t have stopped this. No one could" he whispered. He wrapped you in a hug and kissed your forehead. "Let's get out of here" he announced. You break through the wall to find a Hydra base, screams came through the push doors in front of you. You moved to push passed the door, Bucky stood frozen still. You didn't know when it happened, but you were holding his hand and couldn't move with how rigid his grip was. "Hey" you spoke "we don't have to go in there; we can find another way out" he looked at you and shook his head. "I need to do this"

You squeezed his hand and pushed through the door. You were met with a much younger Bucky strapped to a chair. His screams echoes off the walls as they electro-shocked him while repeating that famous phrase. You turned to your Bucky and saw him shatter, his face fell and eyes teared up. You saw Bob sitting in a room with Yelena when you looked in the reflection of the door behind the old Bucky. You took off sprinting and dragged your Bucky behind you.

You bust through the door, being thrown into a whirlwind of knick-knacks being thrown around the room. You, Bucky, and the rest of the team fight through Bob's room and emerge victorious. You spotted Val and bolted after her, the rest of the New Avengers* followed in suit. You bust through the tarp, only to be announced as the newest crime fighting, city protectors. You all stand there confused, watching Bob clap with the rest of the city.

It takes a lot of time, but eventually, you get the old Avengers tower to yourselves. Rooms and chores are assigned, 'family' dinner cooking, as Alexi liked to call it, happened every night. You and Bucky worked hard to rebuild your relationship, and all the same feelings, if not more, came flooding through you with the more time you spent together. Days were spent exploring the city, maybe even training together. Nights were spent cuddling in your shared room, Heaven forbid anyone else see's Bucky be soft.

You had finally got your Bucky back, no one could take him away now.

[the-winter-spider]

Say Don't Go | Part Ten

bucky x reader AU

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Assholes

A/N: same as before tryna pull all these parts outta my yknow what so i can be done with this fic lmaoo sorryyyyyy :(

Masterpost

-----

You weren’t going to go, you told yourself that a hundred times.

The last party had broken something in you, shattered the fragile safety you’d barely managed to piece together since everything fell apart. So when Wanda brought it up, a small off-campus party, just some people from her art classes, low-key, good vibes you shut her down instantly.

“No,” you said flatly, not even looking up from your laptop. “Absolutely not.”

But Wanda never gave up that easily. “Y/N, it’s not on campus. It’s not one of those ragers. It’s just some friends, some drinks, some music. You can leave whenever. I’ll be with you the whole time.”

“You should wear the red top,” Wanda called from across the room, holding it up like a trophy. “You always feel hot in the red one.”

You didn’t answer. You sat on the edge of your bed, one leg curled beneath you, picking at a loose thread in your pajama pants. You hadn’t moved in twenty minutes. Not since Wanda started pulling clothes out of your closet with the kind of enthusiasm only she could muster.

“Y/N,” she said gently, crossing the room and kneeling in front of you. “Please.”

You looked at her, the weight in your chest so familiar now it almost felt normal. “Wanda, I just…I can’t go to another party. The last one… you remember what happened.”

“I know,” she said quickly, nodding. “God, I know. And I would never ask you to go if it was another one of those campus parties. This one’s different. It’s off-campus, smaller. It’s just a few people from my art class. Chill music. Cozy house, no jocks. No chaos.”

You let out a shaky breath.

“I just want you to feel like you again,” Wanda whispered. “Even if it’s only for an hour.”

You hesitated, your gaze dropping. You remembered the last party, the warmth of Bucky’s hand in yours, the way he’d looked at you like you were something precious. Then, the photo,  the laughter, the betrayal. It made your stomach churn.

But you were tired of being afraid. Tired of being defined by that night.

“Okay,” you said, your voice quiet but sure. “But I’m not wearing the red top.”

Wanda grinned. “Fair. But I’m still doing your makeup.”

An hour later, you stood in front of the mirror, your lips glossed with a soft sheen and a calm shade of eyeliner tracing your eyes. You didn’t recognize yourself not because you looked different, but because you felt something you hadn’t in a long time: anticipation.

“Ready?” Wanda asked, tossing you your jacket with a smile.

You paused. “No. But I’m going anyway.”

She slung an arm around your shoulder as you walked out the door together. “That’s my girl.”

---

The house was small, cozy in that offbeat, art-major way. Christmas lights were strung across the ceiling, and the music was mellow, the kind you could nod your head to without having to scream to be heard. For a while, you were okay.

You were even laughing, laughing, for the first time in what felt like forever. Wanda introduced you to a few people, and you nursed your drink like a lifeline, something to hold onto. You stayed near the edge of the room, eyes darting, instinctively cautious, but still… you were there and that mattered.

Wanda excused herself after spotting someone from class. “You okay if I go say hi?” she asked.

You nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

Famous last words.

You were swaying a little to the music when you heard your name. “Y/N, right?”

You turned. Two guys, familiar faces. Hockey team, your stomach dropped.

“You looked better in that photo,” one said with a smirk, stepping in too close. “What’s a girl gotta do to get that lucky with Barnes, huh?”

Your throat closed up.

“Come on, sweetheart,” the other one added. “I won’t tell Steve or Bucky. We’re all teammates here.” 

“Sharing is caring, right?”

You took a step back, trying to find Wanda, an exit..anything.

A blur of movement. A fist flying, the thud of someone hitting the floor.

Bucky.

You didn’t even see him coming.

He shoved the first guy against the wall, rage written across every tense muscle in his body.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snapped, voice low and dangerous.

The guy groaned, scrambling back. “Dude, chill—”

“Stay the fuck away from her.”

“She’s not even your girl—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bucky growled. “You don’t treat people like that. Not her, not anyone.”

The second guy sneered. “Says the guy who made her a punchline.”

Bucky’s fist flew again.

You gasped, stepping forward, hand out like you could stop the bleeding in the air between them.

The guys slunk off, muttering curses, and Bucky turned to you. His entire demeanor shifted. All the heat, the fury, it melted into something else. Something hollow and terrified.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly. “Did they touch you?”

You shook your head, still in shock. “No. Just… words.”

He hesitated. “Can I…can I touch you?”

You nodded.

His hand found your arm, gently steering you outside to the side of the house where it was quieter. You stood there for a long moment before speaking. “I’m sorry you had to do that.”

He looked at you like you were crazy. “Don’t apologize to me. Don’t ever apologize to me.”

You stared at him, breath catching in your throat. He looked different at this moment. Not the guy from the picture, not the guy from the locker room but the boy who used to slip you notes, who used to ask if you made it home safe, who used to care.

You step out into the chilly night air, wrapping your arms around yourself. The muffled thump of music and voices from the party fades as the door closes behind you. Your heart is still pounding from the confrontation inside, adrenaline and hurt mixing in your veins. A shiver runs through you, not entirely from the cold. A few feet away, Bucky stands with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, concern etched on his face. Neither of you speaks at first, breath clouding in the autumn air, both unsure how to begin after everything.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks softly, breaking the silence. His voice is low and rough, still tight with residual anger at what just happened. In the faint glow of the porch light, you can see the worry in his blue eyes as they search your face.

You release a shaky breath. “I… yeah. I think so.” It’s not a complete lie, physically, you’re unharmed, just shaken. You manage a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, uh for back there, I mean… You didn’t have to do that.”

Bucky’s jaw flexes and he looks down for a moment. “Of course I did,” he murmurs, almost offended at the idea that he wouldn’t. “They were out of line. No one should treat you like that.” His eyes flick back up to yours, earnest and intent. “Are you sure you’re okay? They didn’t… hurt you, did they?”

“I’m okay,” you assure him again, a little more firmly this time. The two teammates who cornered you at the party had been obnoxious jerks, saying disgusting things, one of them grabbing your wrist when you tried to walk away. The memory makes your stomach turn. If Bucky hadn’t stepped in… You push the thought away and straighten your shoulders. “Just a bit shaken up. It was… it was pretty awful, but I’m alright now.” You swallow, your throat dry. “Really.”

Bucky nods, but his expression is still dark, anger simmering under the surface. “I’m sorry. I should have stopped it sooner,” he says, voice low with frustration, mostly at himself. “I didn’t notice what was happening until I heard you yell. By the time I got there—” He cuts himself off, eyes drifting to your arm as if checking again that those guys left no marks.

You follow his gaze and realize you’re rubbing the spot on your wrist where one of them grabbed you. Already the skin is reddening into the shape of unwelcome fingers. Bucky’s face hardens at the sight. Gently, he reaches out as if to touch your hand, then hesitates. Instead, he asks in an anguished whisper, “Did I scare you? Back there, when I… stepped in?”

For a split second during the chaos, you had seen a frightening rage in Bucky, his icy fury as he yanked the guy off you and shoved him hard against a wall. The quick, efficient way he handled both harassers left you and everyone stunned. But were you scared of Bucky? You shake your head. “You didn’t scare me, Bucky,” you say quietly. “I’m okay, really.” Your lips curve in a weak but sincere smile. “I was just… surprised, I guess.”

He exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Good. I—” Bucky starts to say more, but the creak of the front door opening interrupts him.

“Y/N?” Wanda’s voice calls out, laced with concern, before she spots both of you. Wanda steps out onto the porch, arms crossed over her chest against the cold. Her eyes dart between you and Bucky. Immediately, she comes to your side. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you alright?” she asks, her tone gentle with you but noticeably cool as her gaze flicks toward Bucky.

“I’m fine,” you assure your friend, touched by her protectiveness. Wanda places a comforting hand on your back. You can feel the subtle tremor of anger still in her, anger on your behalf. “I just needed some air.”

Wanda nods, then pointedly looks at Bucky. “I heard what happened,” she says, her voice dropping in temperature. “Those idiots… Are they gone?”

Bucky clears his throat. “They won’t bother her again,” he replies. His stance has shifted; he stands a bit straighter, meeting Wanda’s narrowed eyes with a calm, remorseful demeanor. “I made sure of that.”

Wanda gives a tight, curt nod. “Good.” She steps a fraction closer to you, her shoulder almost in front of yours as if to shield you, even from Bucky, who only helped. The gesture isn’t lost on him; you see Bucky’s expression falter, guilt flashing across his face.

An awkward beat passes. Wanda’s fingers press lightly against your back. “Let’s get you home,” she says softly to you. “I’ll walk you.”

Before you can respond, Bucky speaks up, voice tentative. “Actually…,” he begins, addressing you directly, “if it’s alright, I could walk you home.” He takes a half-step forward, concern still written in every line of him. “I mean—” he glances at Wanda, aware of her glare— “only if you want. I just want to make sure you get home safe.”

Wanda stiffens. “That’s not necessary, Barnes,” she interjects sharply before you can answer. Her use of his last name is icy formality. “I can take care of her.” There’s an unmistakable edge to her words. Wanda doesn’t trust him, not after… everything. You feel the tension crackling between your companions and suddenly you’re caught in the middle of a standoff you hadn’t anticipated.

Bucky holds up his hands in a small, placating gesture. “I know, I know. I just…” He looks at you, his eyes softening. “I’d like to talk to Y/N, if that’s okay and make sure she’s alright.”

Wanda opens her mouth to fire back, but you gently lay a hand on her arm. “Wanda, it’s okay,” you say quietly. She turns to you, eyebrows knitting in concern.

“Are you sure?” Wanda asks under her breath, searching your face. Her protectiveness makes your chest warm; she’s seen you hurt over Bucky, and she’s reluctant to leave you alone with him now.

You manage a small smile for her. “I’m sure, I’ll be fine.” You squeeze her arm gratefully. “Thank you, though. For having my back, always.”

Wanda presses her lips together, then nods. “Alright.” She isn’t happy, you can tell by the way her eyes flick to Bucky like a warning. She steps closer to him, lowering her voice. “Just so we’re clear,” Wanda says, her tone like steel, “if you hurt her again, you answer to me.”

Bucky’s face falls into somber earnestness. He nods once. “Understood,” he replies quietly. “I don’t intend to hurt her. Not ever again.”

Wanda holds his gaze a moment longer, as if measuring his sincerity, then turns back to you. Her expression softens. “Text me when you get home, okay?” she says, pulling you into a brief hug. You nod against her shoulder.

“I will,” you promise. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

With that, Wanda gives Bucky one last cold, lingering look, then slips back inside the house, leaving you and Bucky alone once more in the quiet night.

Bucky waits until the door shuts behind Wanda, the muffled thrum of music from inside the house fading behind you both. The air is cooler now, a gentle breeze brushing past as you begin the slow walk home side by side.

At first, it’s quiet.

Your footsteps on the sidewalk are soft, but your thoughts feel loud in your head. Bucky keeps a respectful distance, his hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie. You can feel the way he wants to talk, the weight of unsaid things pressing against him like gravity.

He breaks the silence first.

“My parents fought a lot,” he says quietly. “Like… every night kind of a lot. They stayed together, but it was like every good day felt borrowed. You’d hold your breath waiting for the next blowup.”

You glance over at him, surprised by the sudden openness.

“I used to stay late at the rink just to avoid going home,” he continues. “My dad didn’t hit me or anything. He just… didn’t know how to love anything without hurting it too and my mom, she was so angry all the time I think she forgot how to care.” He laughs a little, but there’s no humor in it. “Guess I got good at pushing people away before they could do it to me first.”

You walk in silence for a beat, letting the wind carry his words.

“I’m not saying any of this as an excuse,” Bucky says. “There’s no excuse for what I did or didn’t do. I should’ve stopped it. The second I heard them, I should’ve told them to stop, I should have stood up for you. But I didn’t, and I’ve been trying to figure out why for weeks and the truth is… I think I froze. I think I panicked, instead of protecting you, I laughed. Like a fucking coward.”

You nod slowly, swallowing the knot in your throat. “I get it,” you say, your voice softer than expected. “I mean… I don’t, not fully. But I get the whole survival thing. I’ve spent most of my life doing that.”

You pause, and he waits patiently.

“My sister, Kate, she died when I was young,” you finally say, voice trembling slightly. “It was a car accident. She was picking Steve and I up from school. I begged her to take a different route home because I was scared of her driving. I think she was high, she said she was fine, I can’t even remember much now but we hit a red light we wouldn’t have otherwise and that’s when it happened.”

Bucky looks over at you, heart in his eyes.

“She died instantly. And I… I always wondered if that was my fault.” You hug your arms around yourself, the old guilt resurfacing. “Steve… he was there for me through everything. He made me feel like I wasn’t alone. So I clung to him. Probably too tightly. I think part of me never stopped needing to be rescued.”

Bucky’s voice is low. “That’s not your fault.”

You nod, not answering that. “Steve and I… we haven’t talked since the fight. I think I broke something between us and maybe I was wrong for letting anything happen with you. You’re his teammate. His friend. I put you both in a horrible position.”

“You still haven’t talked to him?” Bucky asks, brow furrowed.

You shake your head. “Not yet. I’m not ready.”

He’s quiet for a second, then asks, “Are you ready for ours?”

You blink. “Our what?”

“Our talk. You deserve to put me in my place. Yell at me. Rip me a new one. Whatever you need.”

That earns a reluctant smile from you. “I think I’ve done enough yelling this month.”

Bucky chuckles softly. “Maybe. But I meant what I said back at the house. I want to be in your life. However you’ll have me. As a friend, if that ever feels right again. But I’m not expecting anything. I just want you to know I mean it.”

The words settle in your chest like a fragile weight. “You were putting in effort before,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “Before you messed it all up.”

Bucky winces, guilt flashing through his eyes like a stormcloud. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I was. And I want to keep doing that. Every day, if you’ll let me.”

You reach your dorm building, the soft yellow glow of the entryway spilling onto the sidewalk, catching in your hair like starlight. You stop in front of the door, turning toward him.

“This is me,” you say quietly.

Bucky nods, lips pulling into the ghost of a smile. “Yeah. I remember.”

Your laugh is soft, uncertain, but real. The sound is like warmth seeping through a crack in the cold, it feels like maybe the two of you are standing at the edge of something new… or maybe something being rebuilt.

“So,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll… I’ll see you around?”

You nod once, hand resting on the door handle. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I’ll see you around.”

The door closes behind you with a quiet click. You lean against the wood for a second, eyes fluttering shut. Your heart is still racing, not in fear this time, but in something softer. Something cautious.

You pull out your phone, thumb hovering over your messages. Then you click on Wanda.

You: Home safe. Wanda: How was it? You: We talked… it was nice. Wanda: I’ll still kick his ass anytime you need. You: I know. 💛

You look at the screen for a beat longer, then slip the phone into your pocket.

Just before you head down the hall, you pause turning slightly to glance back at the closed door behind you.

Outside, Bucky is still standing under the light, staring at the spot where you’d stood only moments ago.

 Bucky… just stands there.

Still.

Staring at the spot where you stood. His breath clouds faintly in the cool air, the streetlight humming quietly above him. He shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets and tips his head back, eyes closing as he breathes in deep like he’s trying to settle the ache in his chest.

He hadn’t expected you to say yes. Not to the walk, not to any sort of conversation, especially with him and definitely not to leaving the door open, just a little for him.

But you did and that tiny crack in the wall you just built was everything.

He deserved the silence. He deserved the distance. He knew that, he knew the moment he’d laughed along with those guys, the second the words slipped from his mouth that he’d made the biggest mistake of his life.He knew he would never be able to take it back.But he hadn’t expected it to hurt this much.

He'd never hated himself the way he did that day and every day since. But this, tonight was the first time he felt something besides guilt… he felt hope.

Bucky glanced at the dorm door again, the light catching in his tired eyes.

Because the truth was simple: He’d been reckless with you…careless, stupid. And now? He’d walk barefoot across fire if that’s what it took to earn your trust again.

He turned and walked slowly down the sidewalk, the sound of his footsteps swallowed by the quiet. But something about the night felt different, like he was finally on the right path and he wouldn’t mess it up, not again.

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Dom!Steddie x Sub!Reader | Includes: threesome, anal, monstercockSteve™, oral (f receiving) masturbation, spit, piss, praise, degradation | I don’t know what happened; I was jotting down a thought, my finger slipped, and this ended up in my notes app at 3 AM…

Eddie’s fingers are on your ass, keeping your cheeks spread wide, his breath blowing cool against your lips when he says, “Go on, baby. Sit down.”

He makes his request sound so effortless when in reality, taking Steve Harrington’s cock up your ass is anything but easy. You wiggle your hips, carefully sinking over Steve’s tip…the wet squelch of lube and Steve’s grunt of pleasure, his hot breath on your back, making your clit throb.

Eddie’s cock is in his hand, slicked with lube as he fucks himself…watching you slowly impale yourself on Steve’s monster of a cock… Your tight little asshole has somehow managed to swallow his tip, but Eddie knows you can do better. He strokes the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip, pulling it downward gently and spitting into your mouth. You swallow obediently for Eddie, even as you’re being split in half by another man’s cock. “That’s a good girl,” Eddie murmurs with a grin. “I knew you’d take whatever I give you.”

Eddie looks over your shoulder to meet Steve’s eyes as he strokes himself. “Right now, I’m giving you Steve’s cock,” Eddie says. “So be a good girl, and fucking take it.”

Steve’s big hands leave your hips for a moment. You hear him uncapping the bottle of lube, and seconds later, a generous amount of the slippery liquid lands between your ass cheeks. Steve tosses the bottle aside, his hands returning to your hips…he gently guides you up and down on his cock, slowly pumping your ass full of the added lube. Everything is much smoother now; the friction is gone. You’re able to sink further down Steve’s shaft, till you’re sitting on his lap, his massive cock buried inside your ass.

The look of pride and wonder on Eddie’s face has you beaming, any previous discomfort completely forgotten, eclipsed by the high of knowing you’ve pleased him. Steve is on a high of his own, his head dipped back, not moving his hips at all. He’s basking in the grip of the tightest hole he’s ever filled. His hands are still on your hips, squeezing the pudgy meat of your upper thighs. Eddie is positioned across from you and Steve, his cock pointed at your tits as he jerks it.

Eddie leans forward, bending slightly at the knees so he can rub the tip of his dick against your clit. You shiver as his skin meets yours. Eddie’s plump tip is slick with a mix of lube and precum. He rubs himself around your clit in slow circles, dipping his tip between your lips, spreading them apart purely for his own amusement. You begin to whine, a pitiful, pathetic little plea that strokes Eddie’s already-inflated ego.

“Awwww,” he coos condescendingly. “Is it because I’m not playing with your little clit anymore? Poor baby.” Eddie spanks his cock against your clit, making you buck on top of Steve, a low groan leaving you both. Eddie kneels in front of you and presses his mouth into your cunt. The sounds you make are absolutely primal, desperate grunts of pleasure and pain, as Eddie eats you mercilessly, sucking your clit so hard it’s swelling between his lips.

He jerks himself to climax while eating you, spilling his release on the floor between your feet and Steve’s. Eddie sits down across from the two of you, admiring his work…the way you’re an absolutely fucked-out mess already…your head fallen back against Steve’s shoulder, lips parted, eyes rolled back inside your head. Steve’s hands are groping all over you, the curves of your stomach, the swell of your breasts, one hand settling around your throat as he plants hot, open kisses against your neck. His thrusts are gentle at first, making sure you’re comfortable, building to a point where he’s drilling you raw. Eddie is intoxicated by the view in front of him, the way you bounce like a puppet on Steve’s cock, his big hand clamped over your throat holding you in place like a collar, like he fucking owns you.

And a girl like you should be owned, Eddie thinks to himself, should know she’s loved and protected and safe with her men. You have their complete trust, and they have yours.

So when Eddie decides to relieve himself on your pussy, you don’t object at all. It fucking gets you off, watching Eddie stride over to you, stand between Steve’s knees and aim his cock at your pussy…a hot stream of piss emptying onto your clit and trickling between your lips…joining his cum on the floor with a loud spatter, making an absolute fucking mess… And Steve is so busy splitting your ass in two, he doesn’t even register what’s going on… When he does, when Steve realizes that Eddie just pissed all over you, it’s so fucking filthy that Steve comes immediately. He pumps your ass full to the brim, overfilling you till semen is oozing out of your hole and onto Steve’s lap.

Eddie grabs two towels, tosses one on the ground over his piss and cum, and hands the other to Steve. Taking your hands in his, Eddie helps you slowly work your way off of Steve’s dick, while Steve cleans up the mess left behind on his lap. The three of you stagger to the shower, clean up, then fall into bed for the deepest sleep of your lives…

[shushmal]

steddie request! pre steddie during a pool day eddie feels cute aggression and bites the back of steve's shoulder and surprises him

It should be ILLEGAL, Eddie thinks, for Steve Harrington to allowed out into polite company, much less in a community pool where innocent eyes could gaze upon him. Objectively, sure, Eddie knows that those little pink swim shorts aren't any more scandalous that what anyone else is wearing today. Ted Wheeler is knocked out on a lounge chair with only a speedo. But it's Steve. And Eddie's doing his best to rehab his image in Hawkins, so drooling after the local Harrington prince wasn't going to help.

Never mind that it was Steve who drug Eddie out into Satan's crack that is Indiana summer in August. He'd made a good case about it, too—something, something, being seen doing good in front of all the moms at the community pool, something, something, Holly's birthday party, yada yada. Honestly, Eddie didn't hear most of it, lost in Steve's stupid, beautiful brown eyes.

What was Eddie going to say? No?? Be for real.

That was how Eddie found himself sat on a deck chair (thankfully one with an umbrella), in his jeans next to a cooler, handing little girls juice boxes and snacks when demanded of him.

Holly Wheeler must befriends with the entire elementary school, Jesus Christ.

Steve himself, in his aforementioned pink swim trunks, was playing as pool jungle gym and had kids crawling all over him. It helped a lot to keep Eddie from drooling after him, but didn't do a lot for Eddie's heart.

Worse than Steve being hot, was Steve being cute. Eddie couldn't take it. He was going to die.

Steve had one of the smaller kids perched on his hip, held safely up out of the splash zone, while the rest of the hoard took turns climbing up onto his shoulders and using him like a diving board, his free hand guiding them safely into the water as they jumped. It looked like hell to Eddie, but Steve was grinning ear to ear, rating each jump with a booming cheer that had all the kids screaming around him with each splash.

"Um, excuse me," snaps a little girl in front of Eddie. He glances down and feels like he's looking at a mini Erica Sinclair, her hands on her hips and scowling. A chilling sight.

"Whatcha need, shrimp?" Eddie sighs, flipping the cooler lid up to take another order. "We're out of red barrels, and our stock of blue is going fast."

She eyes him skeptically for a moment before her little shoulders slump. "Fine, I guess I'll take the blue."

"Here you go," he says, pulling the foil off for her since little wrinkled baby fingers have yet to manage it all day. "Now be gone with ye."

Treating him with another incredibly bitchy look for a third grader, she bounds off just as a shadow appears over Eddie. A wet arm hooks over Eddie's shoulders, just as Steve crashes into the deck chair beside him, too small for two nearly full grown men, the plastic creaking ominously. Steve is practically in Eddie's lap.

"Harrington, what the fuck," Eddie squawks, cold pool water soaking into his clothes because Steve is dripping wet.

"What the language, Munson," Steve says, still grinning, looking at Eddie with those brown eyes. His face is round and a little pink, and he's so close that Eddie can see the faint trail of summer freckles across his nose. He's so beautiful, and he looks so happy and excited to have Eddie's attention. "There's little ears—OW WHAT THE FUCK!"

Eddie opens his jaw and yanks his head back, almost as shocked with himself as Steve. He can taste pool water in his mouth. There's a line of pink teeth-marks on Steve tanned shoulder.

"Uh," Eddie says.

"Did..." Steve starts. He leans back a little, still half in Eddie's lap, to gape down at him. "Did you just... bite me?"

"Y-Yeah," Eddie breathes. "Whoops."

"Whoops?" Steve repeats, brows high on his forehead. "Why the hell did you bite me?"

"You're very bitable." Eddie's going to drown himself in the pool at this rate. "You're too cute. I had to bite you."

He watches as Steve's eyes narrow, watches as Steve begins to suss him out. Eddie's still too shocked with himself to do anything, can't even panic, because he's that much of an idiot and his brain has gone completely offline. Because Eddie bit Steve Harrington and then called him cute, Jesus Humphrey Christ.

Then Steve leans down, slowly, until his face is right in Eddie's, and an insane thought goes through Eddie's brain. I bit Steve Harrington, told him he was cute, and now he's going to kiss me.

Except Steve bypasses Eddie's face and lands his lips against Eddie's neck, where he then tries to take his own pound of flesh.

Eddie screeches.

Distantly, he recognizes what a weird blessing it is that they're at the community pool, surrounded half the elementary school, all of them screeching and screaming and splashing. Everyone is completely oblivious to whatever homosexual nightmare is happening to Eddie right now.

"You're pretty cute yourself, Ed," Steve says into the small space next to his ear. And then he's up and standing between one breath and the next. "We really gotta teach you some manners though," he says, grinning, before he turns and dives into the pool.

"Y-Yeah," Eddie says weakly in his absence. He can feel Steve's spit on his neck, rapidly drying the summer heat, the bite mark aching with promise.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

pillow talk

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

wc: 1K

warnings: this is post activities, so its safe. just sweet sweet fluff

summary: post sex discussions

A/N: used the prompt sweet after sex by @jasminesfury *not proofread, i’m confusing myself so badly looking at one specific sentence*

masterlist / steve harrington

the sun was setting. orange and yellow hues sparkled through the windows that the curtains let peek through. the room was quiet, the only noises coming from the shared breathing and the rustling of the bedding. the room felt hot with the door closed and the previous activity that had you and steve just laying in bed with the sheets up to your naked, sweaty chests.

steve rolled over and changed from laying on his back to his stomach, staring at his ceiling while adjusted his body so his head lay on your stomach. he had one leg in and the other out, your right leg in between. steve managed to wiggle an arm under your back as his free hand drew whatever came to mind onto your sticky belly.

a tilt to your head as it lay on the pillow, a lovesick smile tugging the seams of your lips. a hand fell on steve’s head and you began running the digits through his thick head of brown hair with a few lighter parts popping out from his time in the sun. nails scratching at his scalp to pull vibrating groans or fingers twirling strands of ruly hair around.

steve rubbed his open palm over your waist and down to your thighs before trailing up again. his wonderful lips plant wet, open-mouth kisses over your stomach and the imperfections scattered over your lower half. his nose would glide over your belly button before setting his chin just above it to peer at your with lidded eyes.

“yes, handsome?” you hummed as you pushed hair behind his ear.

“i love you.”

three words, eight letters.

the two of you have said them for years. at first just surface level meaning, friendly-familia meaning, something you say in passing to your parents as you leave the house in a hurry or friends when they do a favor for you. but eventually, the words held a different meaning for the two of you. it would be lingering touches and eye contact maintained longer that was acceptable. staring at steve’s side profile as he talked, letting your thoughts run away from you with imaginary scenarios before shaking them away and landing back to reality.

and now the words held all those meanings, silver bands wrapped around ring fingers showing the world.

“i love you too, stevie.” thumb straightening his left brow into place.

steve rubbed his thumb up and down at your hip bone. more kisses pressed to your stomach, some quick and open, some more lingering, and some with heat as he gave little bites at the skin. you would giggle or squirm, a moan pulled from your throat when the feel of his lips felt tantalizing. fingers would curl and pull steve’s hair in response, you would feel the smile as he continued his loving assault.

“you know,” lingering kisses to your lower stomach, “i can’t wait to have kids with you.”

“oh, yeah?” top teeth biting into your bottom lip to stop a smile.

steve stopped the kisses (much to your disappointment) to once again rest his chin on your stomach. it was slightly discomforting but you didn’t push him away.

“yeah. i know you don’t want many if we were to have our own. so i want an older girl so she can help keep her younger brother in line.”

you let your index finger run down the slope of steve’s nose bridge, “how long have you been thinking about this?”

the quick dart of steve’s eyes piqued your interest. he only did that when he was embarrassed by the information he was about to lay out. you didn't push him, just observed him as you waited.

you felt steve’s voice but didn’t hear it. he spoke his words into your skin and it took you a moment before you realized he said anything. you asked him to repeat it politely.

he cleared his throat. “since our third date.”

“why our third date? if this was a romance anything, you would’ve said our first date.” you weren’t criticizing, just curious. you just remember it as a fun roller rink date.

your simple question sparked a twinkle in steve’s pupils. “i know what you're thinking.” “what am i thinking?”

“that it was just a roller rink date. why is that so special to start thinking about kids? right?” a shrug was your answer. steve continued his version of the story.

“okay. well, i was getting us food and you stayed in our booth. after i placed our order i leaned against the wall so i could continue to watch you-“ “stalker.”

steve tickled at your sides, breaking you into fits of laughs and tears before you conceded. “anyway. i was staring at you, my mind just constantly saying, “you got your girl”. and then you stood up and walked to a claw game. i was gonna rush over so i could impress you, but stopped when i saw you crouch down and start talking to a little boy. then you started to play the game and after many, many, many-“ you shoved his shoulder and the both of you chuckled, “many tries. you got the boy a stuffed animal. and in his excitement, he hugged you. and just seeing the way you froze before holding him tightly with your eyes closed…”

steve trailed off and you could feel the tears wishing to fall. hands grabbing for steve’s cheeks and giving a slight tug to signal him to climb up your body. his hands sat by the sides of your chest as you planted kiss after kiss over his face. a kiss to the side of his lip and you move his head back.

“here’s a potential plan. we wait another year or two, getting more marriage on the plate and getting used to our grown-up jobs. and then from there, we could start having a bit more carefree sex and just… see what happens. what d’you think?”

steve’s eyes went side to side then to your lips and back to your eyes. “i say…” he leaned closer, lips ghosting each other as he whispered, “that’s a good plan, honey.” and he kissed you until you couldn’t remember your name, only steve’s.

-

[loveshotzz]

Soooo, I keep wanting to read a smutty blurb/fic on Steve alternating between soft/gentle and hard/fast on female reader during doggy. I’d write it myself but I get too turned on to finish (the story anyway ayyyooo!)

hi bb! i saw your post and it had set my brain into motion and then when i saw you popped it in my requests I got so excited. needed to write something a lil dirty after all the fluff. i hope you like it! ♥️

wc: 1.1k

warnings: 18+, established relationship, unprotected sex, cream pie, spanking, steve’s a little cocky and we’re a little needy.

Steve’s hands keep a tight grip on the soft curve of your hips, the whites of his knuckles showing under tan skin. He’s mesmerized by the dip of your back when it curves to meet his thrust, the fat of your ass rippling against the tops of his hairy thighs.

“So pretty baby, god - so fuckin’ pretty.”

He leans forward, big hands leaving your hips to press down on the mattress next to yours, somehow pushing in deeper, punching a soft gasp from you while your fingers curl tight in the sheets.

Slick skin against slick skin, the sound of how wet you are is almost obscene as it mixes with each of his grunts that fill the quiet of your bedroom. Every slow drag of his cock against the velvet vice grip of your walls has your eyes rolling in the back of your head. His fat tip hitting that spot just right every time.

He keeps his pace slow, each roll of his hips precise in their mission to make you come undone for the second time tonight. The strand of hair he’s always pushing back drips sweat against his forehead while his lips ghost wet kisses along your shoulder blades.

“That where you want me?” He breathes hot against your ear with another short pump, obsessed with the small whine it gets him.

“uh huh” is all you manage to get out when he does it again.

“So good at takin’ all of me honey, always -fuck” he twitches when your walls squeeze at his praise,”always takin’ it all.”

His thrusts stay deep, slow, pointed and the coil that’s been tightening in your gut for what feels like hours starts to get painful. The need for more makes your hips push back before they circle, your arousal coating the dark patch of hair that frames what you’re begging for. Tightening your walls with purpose to antagonize him, the moan he gives you has your lips twist in a smirk.

“What? Am I not giving you enough?” He whispers when he regains control.

The tip of his nose trails along the shell of your ear, hot breath fanning down your neck before he lifts himself back onto his haunches, his hands grabbing greedy at your sides. squeezing, massaging.

Your legs shake when he stretches you out in a different way, your cheek hitting the mattress while your hips push up to try and take more. It was his favorite getting you like this. desperate.

One of his hand drops between your thighs, the pads of his fingers playing messy with your clit while the other restablishes a bruising hold on your plush curves. A soft chuckle leaving him when you gasp at the new sensation, teetering the edge of overstimulation.

“I asked you a question honey, it’s rude not to answer.” He pulls almost all the way out, making you dangerously close to feeling empty before he snaps his hips burying himself to the hilt. He ignores your cry and the way you almost rip the sheets off the mattress, asking again.

“Am I not giving you enough? You gonna tell me what you want?”

The palm of his hand cracks down against the side of your ass, the jiggle of it making him lick his lips. Your walls flutter, pulling him deeper when he rubs the sore spot, grabbing and squeezing at the soft fat to get a better look at how you drip for him.

“f-faster, please” you manage to squeak when his fingers between your legs start moving in more determined circle eights.

“Such a needy girl” He pulls all the way out this time, replacing his fingers on your clit with his leaking tip. He rubs it against your bundle of nerves, your slick making it slide easily from side to side with pointed pressure. It makes your jaw drop, eyes closing tight as you nod in agreement, your hips starting to rock against him with your orgasm dangerously close like this.

It doesn’t take Steve long to notice, his own release begging to come out with yours but he wants to be buried inside you first.

“Not yet.” He tutts, taking the attention from your clit with him, lining back up at your entrance. “Need you to do it on my dick baby, I wanna feel it.”

He doesn’t wait for your response, not that there was one when he stretches you back out again. It stings in a way that has your eyes watering when he’s half way in, your toes curling when his pelvic bone meets your ass cheeks completely buried, almost bullying your cervix.

“Fuck! - Steve!” You pant trying to adjust to his size again, but he barely gives you any recovery time before he’s setting a brutal pace.

“Just giving you what you want honey, this is what you wanted right?” He taunts between gritted teeth, his eyes threatening to hit the back of his skull when you start to meet his thrusts. Insatiable.

The sound of skin slapping against skin battles with the sticky mess of your arousal as he keeps pounding into you, pulling your cheeks apart to watch how you coat him creamy white. You’re close, he can feel it.

“Need you to be a good girl and cum for me.” He grunts, his long fingers finding their way back to your bundle of nerves making you clench hard around him. “Yeah baby, just like that. Come on, I know you wanna give it to me.”

The grip on your hip becomes iron tight as he drives into you relentlessly, the box springs of your mattress squeak while your head board smacks against the wall with each harsh thrust.

“I’m- I’m gonna - god” you moan loudly when he finds the perfect speed between his fingers and the quick rolls of his hips, the coil tightening to it’s limit finally snapping making you see white.

His name comes out in a scream as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave, bringing him to the brink with you. His body goes rigid, cock twitching deep inside of you. A guttural moan escapes somewhere from his chest when he paints your insides, your walls squeezing him so tight it threatens to push him out. He keeps the hold on your hips, making you take all of what he’s giving you before he finally collapses on your back, completely spent.

He leaves sloppy kisses anywhere he can reach, your shoulders, your spine, the back of your neck. Droplets of sweat drip onto your heated skin from his forehead, as he slowly pulls out wincing when he’s finally free. Flopping down on his back after, he doesn’t hesitate to pull you to his chest. He lips feather light on both your cheeks, your nose, and then finally your mouth, chuckling out of breath when you whine puckering for more. His needy girl.

[magicaloneandmystery]

random rockstar!Bucky headcanons I have

pairing: rockstar!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

themes: this is the fluffy part. smutty part to follow!

warnings: mentions of trespassing?, mentions of drugs and alcohol, bucky was a fuckboy before you

a/n: I am so obsessed with rockstar!Bucky, oh my god. I was so disappointed to find there are not enough fics for this ship but if you have ANY recommendations, thoughts, or ideas, do send them my way!

18+ version

you were a fan - of course you were, who wasn't these days? - and had caught his eye one time when you sneaked in the backstage just to get a glimpse of the absolute chaos that is post concert celebration. so when he saw his security detail dragging off a pretty woman he had never seen before? he had to stop and "save" you.

so that's how you met, adrenaline swirling in your veins from not just trespassing but also meeting your favourite singer.

and you were ready to worship the ground he walked on.

luckily for you, he held the same devotion.

he was reluctant to become exclusive with you at first. he was used to one night stands and... that was pretty much it. he wasn't used to wanting a girl to stick around, or getting jealous over other people flirting with you.

one time, he actually came close to firing his manager, Natasha, because she was leaning in too close to you.

that was the same night he admitted to himself that maybe there was a slight chance that he wanted you to be his girl and only his girl.

it took him another week to hype himself up to ask you to be his.

it was a week full of nervous chuckles and stuttering that was not at all characteristic of Bucky. it had you incredibly concerned and whenever you tried to ask him if everything was okay, he kissed you passionately, taking away your breath and leaving your mind blank.

finally, at the end of the week, one night when he didn't have a concert or interview or red carpet appearance, he took you out on a date.

which was surprising because Bucky didn't do dates.

he would hang out with you, have his usual setup of drugs and booze ready, or at best, take you to a club for a night of booze and grinding.

but a date? where he was acting like a gentleman, not even touching his favourite whiskey, and going all sweet on you?

something was up.

but, you basked in his attention. after all, that was all you've wanted ever since you got together in his vanity room all those months back.

he was a stuttering mess but he managed to get through his heartfelt and well rehearsed speech.

"doll, you know how I- I am not good at this shit. but you make m-me want to give up my old ways. I barely look at other girls anymore, I haven't slept with anyone apart from you in over three months, and I- I hate the thought of you sleeping with someone else. when I'm on stage, I'm only looking for your eyes in the crowd. I see some hot chick in some event and think, 'y/n would pull that dress off so much better' and I just... always need you beside me. you're on my mind constantly. Sam, Steve, and everyone else is tired of hearing me talk about you in band practices. I- I have been analysing these feelings. I... y/n, will you be my girlfriend?"

since then, you were on his arm constantly. when he was away on your first tour as a couple, you almost couldn't take it. so, you quit your current job and instead joined the crew as one of the tour managers. it wasn't as difficult as you would've thought. especially with his help.

you were a professional, but then Bucky would saunter into a room and he would make it his job to distract you. it was an open secret amongst your crew to always take over the planning, directing, and executing when you and Bucky were in the same room.

he was a doting boyfriend. he would kiss you every time he entered or left the room. he would have his hand on you all the time, whether on your back, around your shoulders, or, his favourite, wrapped around your waist.

he spoils you rotten. one time, when the two of you were out on European streets, a respite from practice for and planning the tour for both of you, your eyes had lingered too long on a bracelet and he went in and bought it simply because 'you should only yearn for me, baby, not some bracelet.' whatever that meant.

your favourite part of your life with Bucky, though, had to be the penthouse you share back in New York, when times are quiet between albums and tours.

you had decorated it together and you had filled it with all the little trinkets you could find on tours that you thought Bucky would love.

he did, every single one of them.

how could he not? his girl had picked them out for him.

he was an excellent cook, it came as a surprise for you. and often, when you weren't cooking together, he would sit you down on the counter next to the stove and put a glass of wine in your hand, listening to you sharing the gossip from his crew while he prepared your favourite pasta while stealing kisses from you in between.

all in all, it was a pretty blissful life.

thank you so much for reading! likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated :)))

[afewproblems]

Eddie downs the last of his beer and tosses the empty red cup into the kitchen sink, right between a couple who were clearly gearing up to claim one of the spare rooms upstairs. 

Eddie snickers and winks as the girl tells him to fuck off while her boyfriend flips him the bird, god he loves highschool parties, and this one is no exception.

It's Halloween and business is booming for Eddie Munson.

He imagines Dian Fossey felt similarly, wandering through the Congo studying the great apes' behavior patterns and social structure from within rather than observing from afar. 

So far Eddie's observations have paid off in spades and he's managed to sell out most of his stash by targeting the basketball team and their girlfriends. No one wants to get high all by themselves after all, it's almost too easy the way these sheep all flock together. 

Eddie leaves the kitchen behind him, but not before snagging a can of something cold from a nearby cooler of half melted ice. With a decent buzz going, what's one more? He's done working for the night after all. 

Eddie climbs the stairs, dodging drunk teens left and right as they make their way past him, shirts ruffled and hair messy. Eddie snorts, ignoring the wistful pull in his chest as a tall boy on the swim team pulls his girlfriend closer to press a chaste kiss to the top of her head before smoothing her curls away from her forehead. 

Unfortunately no one Eddie would be interested in would accept him brushing their hair like that without punching him in the face.

He shakes his head and continues forward, he's an observer, nothing more. 

Eddie passes a closed door on the second floor and pauses as a raised voice splits through the wood.

"It's bullshit, you're bullshit," the voice slurs out and Eddie feels a wide grin pull at the corner of his mouth. 

He takes a step closer, nearly pressing his ear to the flat of the door.

"Like we're in love?" Another voice says softly, a guy, "you don't love me?" 

A small part of Eddie knows he shouldn't be listening to this, he can hear the waiver in this guy's voice like his heart is slowly cracking in his chest. Shit, he almost feels bad for this guy. 

But the people that go to these stupid parties, the Hawkins elite, the gorillas in the mist, deserve their bullshit --to use this girls turn-of-phrase.

The only reason they didn't mess with Eddie was because he was these highschool shit-heads main source of weed. 

Its karma, plain and simple, Eddie reasons as he presses even closer now.

"It's. Bullshit". The girl hisses emphatically and for a second Eddie hears nothing.

It happens so quickly after that. 

The door swings inward, causing Eddie to stumble into a tall firm chest as the bathroom guy collides with him.

"What the fuck?" The guy says as he pushes Eddie away from himself and --no way.

"Harrington?"

Steve blinks once, his wide hazel eyes red rimmed and shiny in the dim light of the hallway, the tip of his nose is pink as he reaches up to pinch it roughly before swiping across his eyes as well.

Even though Eddie's fairly certain that he and Steve are the same height, he seems smaller like this, deflated, standing in the hallway while a party rages down below them both. 

A cheer rings out, startling Steve into action.

He steps widely around Eddie, enough that his shoulder connects with the wall in his haste to take the stairs down, two at a time, as though Hell is hot on his heels. 

And Eddie should leave it, go back to the party, see if there are any snacks left before calling it a night, but something pushes him to follow the path Steve took.

It's like he's possessed, the haunted look in those hazel eyes forcing him forward until he's outside on the lawn.

A few other teens are outside, including a couple making out on the porch, Eddie steps over them and jogs to the end of the driveway.

He spots Steve down the street sitting on a large rock at the end of another neighbor's lawn with his face in his hands.

He looks up as Eddie gets closer and curses softly.

"Seriously? It wasn't enough that you were listening, you're following me now?" His voice cracks on the last word as he wipes his eyes again, he can't quite hide the way the moonlight catches the tear tracks running down his cheek and neck though.  

"Oh come on Harrington," Eddie says, walking up to Steve. He sits on one of the other rocks and takes a crumpled pack of smokes out of his vest pocket, "it's no fun if you're sad".

"What is?" Steve mumbles after a beat, wiping his eyes again as he stares at the ground. 

"Making fun of you," Eddie shrugs as he takes a cigarette and puts it between his lips, he smiles at the startled bark of laughter from Steve.

"You're a prick," he huffs softly, the barest of smiles slowly blooming across his face.

Eddie can count the constellation of freckles and moles across his face, giving the blanket of stars above them a run for their money. His hand twitches at the thought of touching the ones on Steve's throat.

Eddie coughs once, mentally tallying the number of drinks he must have had for those kinds of  thoughts and shifts on the rock to adjust his pants. 

He holds out the pack to Steve who looks at the nearly empty sleeve before his eyes shift to the house behind Eddie. 

"Nance hated cigarettes," Steve murmurs as the corner of his mouth twitches into a terrible frown. It's gone in an instant as Steve blinks once and reaches out for the pack.

"I got something stronger if you want?" Eddie offers, he shrugs when Steve looks up at him with suspicious eyes. 

"Come on Harrington, I'm not gonna keep kicking you when you're down, you need a pick-me-up and then I can get back into it," Eddie stands up and without thinking, holds out a hand towards Steve, "what do you say?"

Steve stares up at him, his eyes flick once to the outstretched hand before he snorts dryly and slowly takes his hand. 

It's warm in Eddie's own. The fingers squeeze gently as Steve uses it to hoist himself up until he's once again eye level with Eddie. 

From this close Eddie can see the way his eyelashes have clumped together with leftover tears and the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes

Oh…this, this was a bad idea. Eddie swallows roughly as Steve finally nods.

"Lead the way Munson," Steve says with the barest of smirks as he wipes his face one last time, "and if you tell anyone about this, I'll slash your tires".

Eddie cackles at that, "there he is!"

He claps Steve on the back as he leads them towards where he parked his van down the road, "our chariot awaits!"

Eddie ignores the small voice that whispers in his ear, the one that sounds remarkably like his uncle, as it asks him just what the hell he thinks he's doing with Harrington of all people? 

It'll be fine, he tells himself.

Besides, what's the worst that could happen?

Part Two

[juuuulez]

🔥 | kinktober #4: throat fucking, steve harrington.

mwahahahaha this was just soooo 😍😍 siiighhhh

also it kinda got a little freaky I’M SORRY i don’t know what came over me i turned evil and horny

-> prompt/kinktober masterlist <-

some orange cellophane has been taped to the bathroom light, casting an orange hue on the dimly lit room. steve’s back rests against the bathroom door, you kneeling at his feet.

your jaw unhinges, guided gently by his big hands, one on your cheek, the other in your hair. he pulls you deeper onto his cock, taking him to the hilt, suppressing the urge to gag and instead swallowing around him.

“fuuuck, baby.” he groans, panting around the words. your nose presses into the bottom of his stomach. “so good. such a good girl, huh?”

it’s almost condescending, the way he grins, managing to be cocky about it, even as pleasure tightens and swirls in his gut. but you don’t care.

it feels good, because out of everyone, steve harrington wants you on his dick. maybe halloween was a blessed holiday, maybe it made men crazy, you didn’t care. it felt good to be wanted.

your hands flex where they grip his calves, aching to touch yourself. it’s obvious in the way you squirm, trying to get some pressure on your core, needing anything to relieve it.

“y’need some help, angel?” steve asks, his hands working to pull your head back, only to take him again. “should’ve dressed up as a dog. needy fuckin’— needy puppy.”

he struggles to get the words out, your tongue massaging the underside of his thick cock. the angel wings you’d worn as costume are still on, a few hot-glued feathers falling out.

your eyes water from the pressure in your throat, and before you know it, steve is pressing the leather of his shoe down over your crotch. he uses the toe to flip up that sheer white skirt, giving him access to your dampening panties.

whatever squeak of protest you make it silenced, for steve begins to work in earnest, using his hands to still your head, fucking himself down into your throat. all you can do is sit there and take it.

his foot tilts up slightly, providing a delicious angle that you can’t resist, hips sliding down against the smooth leather. it feels so good. it feels humiliating, humping steve’s shoe, all in some random fucking kids bathroom at their dumbass halloween party.

but it makes steve grin, enjoying the sight. you’re too far gone now to care, grinding in earnest, wanting to get off.

“you’re my bitch, huh? that right?” he teases, the hand on your cheek moving to your jaw, gripping the hinge of it, keeping it open.

and you glare, narrowed eyes, unable to speak. you swore he got off to the sound of his own voice.

his cock bullied its way into your throat, pulsing with its own heartbeat. it tasted salty on your tongue, the pre smearing and sticking to the insides of your cheek. he was close.

you were too.

the pressure on your clit was just right, though somewhere through the haze, you realised just how much you didn’t want a mouthful of cum.

the action was quick, hand pattering over steve’s thigh, managing to push him away just firm enough that he listened. his cock was dripping with your saliva, red and swollen and ready.

he can’t even manage any words, fist working quickly over his length, staring down as you quickly hoist up that tiny white tank, pushing it over your breasts. it gives him the perfect view, skin flushed and spilling from a lacy brassiere.

a groan leaves steve’s throat as he spills over your chest, milky cum staining your skin. it drips down the valley of them, pooling under the wire, sticky. the sight is sinful, with you in that little angel costume, covered in him. steve would take a photo if he could.

“fuck.” he suddenly grumbles.

you look down to notice the droplets that escapes, landing in a pearly white splatter against his leather shoe. it’s shiny, too, from whatever slick seeped from the fabric of your underwear.

words don’t form before his hand is on your head again, nudging you down. “wha— steve.” you attempt to protest, but it’s futile, he’s directing your face down to his soiled shoe.

“don’t think you’re getting out of it,” he sounds so fucking amused. “clean up your mess.”

[pearynice]

part 2 to this

The thing is, Eddie thought love was supposed to be like the movies.

He thought love was blinding. Thought it was all-consuming and life altering, thought it would bowl him off his feet or would crush him under the enormity of it, thought it would hit him like lightning, bright and hot and profound.

He also thought it was meant for the boys and girls whose eyes never strayed in the locker rooms. Those whose marriages churches would bless.

He thought it was never meant for him.

Until he met Steve. Until he met Steve who said it like it was easy. Like loving Eddie hadn't reshaped the fabric of his universe or the foundation of his future. Like loving Eddie wasn't world-ending or soul-crushing, like the fact that he loved Eddie made him inherently deserving Steve's love.

Eddie hadn't had a clue what to do with that.

So he'd left. He'd ran, and he'd wanted to go back as soon as his ass hit the driver's seat, his pants still unbuckled and his shoes in his hands, but Steve's open, earnest face would flash behind his eyes, and Eddie couldn't. Because eventually Steve would come to understand what so many already had before: that people don't love Eddie Munson.

His parents certainly hadn't, at least not in any tangible way Eddie can remember, and it's not exactly within his uncle's stoic nature to voice anything close to earnest. And Eddie has his friends, of course, his band, Hellfire, but love had never come close to finding its foothold.

Not, apparently, until Steve.

Eddie lies awake thinking about it. He drives to work thinking about it. He eats and dreams and plays his guitar thinking about Steve, because he can't stop wondering if, maybe, Eddie loves him back.

He thought it would hit him all at once, a tidal wave of understanding crashing over him that he's in love with the person in front of him, and if it wasn't that, then it wasn't love. But maybe, Eddie begins to think, after everything, after Vecna and dying and resuscitation, that's not the kind of love they were meant for.

Because Eddie's never felt safer than when he's with Steve. He's never felt less like a freak or an outcast, or more like the type of person that could be deserving of the word that falls so easily from Steve's lips. I love you, Steve had told him. And Eddie hadn't known what to do with it. Hadn't known how to hold it without smothering it, how to carry it without bruising it, how to care for it without letting it die.

He hadn't wanted to break Steve's heart. He hadn't wanted to let Steve break Eddie's own.

But Eddie's been awake all night and he's starting to understand that maybe Steve hadn't wanted him to carry it at all. That maybe love isn't something you carry with a delicate touch so it doesn't shatter in your hands.

Maybe it's a whole lot more enduring than that.

Eddie hopes it is. He hopes it is because it's been three days and two nights and he's driving over to Steve's house after leaving in the middle of the night to admit to Steve that yes, yes, I love you too. All of his words leave him when Steve answers the door. Because Steve looks heartbroken. He looks exhausted. He looks like he's been crying.

Somehow Eddie ends up inside, staring at the mug of coffee like it will pull the words from his throat. It doesn't, but Eddie manages, and as he speaks Steve's expression shifts from anger to hesitation to something burgeoning on understanding until-

"You haven't blown it, baby."

Steve's hand envelopes his own. Eddie can feel the press of the scars on his palm against the back of his hand, the curl of Steve's fingers and the warmth of his skin, and Eddie can't help but fall into it.

Steve holds him. Wraps his arms around Eddie's waist and rubs soothing circles onto his back, kisses the frizzy hair at his temple and Eddie feels Steve's love like a foundation under his feet, constant and sure.

"I'm so sorry," he croaks. Steve holds him, and rubs his back, and he smells like sleep and sweat and laundry detergent and Eddie would like to live in the crook of Steve's neck forever, if he could.

"I know," Steve promises, "it's okay. I promise, Eddie, it's okay."

"I love you," he swears, and it doesn't feel fragile or breakable or blinding, it doesn't feel earth-shattering or soul-crushing, it feels like Steve holding him, and telling him it's okay.

Steve wipes the moisture from his cheeks, and Eddie realizes he's crying.

"Sorry," he sniffles, and he pulls away enough to wipe his palms across his face. "I should be comforting you." Steve smiles, soft and warm, and keeps his hands on Eddie's cheeks. "You're here," he says, "so I'm okay."

Eddie never wants to love anyone else.

They abandon the coffee in the kitchen. Steve pulls Eddie against him on the couch, their legs crunched up awkwardly on the too-short length, Eddie's head falling to Steve's bicep.

"I love you," Steve says, against his neck, his lips brushing Eddie's skin.

The words feel made for him.

[imyourbratzdoll]

Hey I was reading your X-men posts and I just had an idea and if it is possible for you can you write about reader was with Bucky or Steve or both (your choice) but they break her heart and she finds love again with Charles Xavier (James McAvoy) or Eric Lehnsherr (Michael Fassbender) or both (again your choice) and protect her from Steve/Bucky 😅❤️

hi honey! thank you for requesting this, I hope you like what I've written!

summary - love can be deceiving especially with the wrong person, but it's so much more when it's with the right person.

warning - cheating? angst, word whore is used, insecurities, small violence.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips (deactivated)

Bucky Barnes had been your light since the day The Avengers found you. He had been the one to comfort you when the nightmares would become too much, the one to love you like you’ve never been loved before. So why did it feel like your heart was being ripped out of your chest as you heard him talking to his friends. Why did it feel like the opposite of love?

“I’m so sick of Y/n being attached to me all of the time! And does she really think I love her?! Has she seen herself lately? She’s no Nat or Sharon. She’s just her, plain.” Bucky groans, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of his beer. “Oh, did I tell you that I hooked up with a smoking hot babe last night?” He smirks. “Man could she bend.”

You suck in a breath quietly, not wanting to be heard and also struggling to hold back your pain. You walk back to your room, quickly packing your things and disappearing into the night. You knew it was too good to be true, not once in your life had anything ever turned out good. You always seemed to end up with the short end of the stick. You had nowhere to go, a bag in your hand and the moon shining down on you. You felt stupid, you should’ve stayed, found a place before you left. 

You decided to walk a few blocks, taking a random train, wanting to distance yourself. You had turned your phone off and threw it away at the first sight of Bucky calling you. You couldn’t turn back now, too busy with your head down, looking at the ground you manage to bump into someone. Your bag falling from your hands, hitting the floor with a thump. “I–I’m so sorry!” You go to kneel but stop when you notice your bag floating in the air. 

“It’s not safe for a pretty girl to be out this late. You don’t know who you might end up bumping into.” You blink, your eyes connecting with blue. The random man hums, “Ah, Y/n L/n. What are you doing so far from home? Don’t you know you have many people looking for you? Some good, some bad.” 

You shrug, “I don’t care…” You wipe your cheeks, ensuring there are no tear marks on them. “Who are you?” 

The unknown man stares, face like stone. Reminding you so much of the man you just left. “And here I thought I made a reputation for myself.” He studies you, “Erik Lehnsherr, but I also go by Magneto.” 

You nod. “It’s nice to meet you. If you excuse me, I have somewhere to be…” You lie, you recognise the name, you knew of the people he used to hang around before he fully embraced his dark side. You couldn’t have him handing you back out of spite, you didn’t want to go back. Not after what you heard. 

Erik’s hand flies out, gripping your arm softly. “No, you don’t. But I’m not a total monster, I won’t let a pretty girl like you stay out on the streets all night. God knows what will happen.” He begins to pull you along, ignoring your protests. “Be quiet, don’t make me regret being kind.” 

Your mouth falls open as you stand in front of the X-Mansion, beginning to feel uncomfortable as you realise these people may judge you. You weren’t a mutant, you were a freak, an unloved freak. “I–I can’t stay here!”

“Why not?” Erik looks down at you, “Oh, are you one of those vampires that need inviting in?”

You look up at him with your head tilted, “Huh? What… No. I just, these people are… and I’m me… Plain…” You begin to play with your fingers.

“Hmm, whoever said that should get their eyes checked. Now come. I’m sure Charles is awaiting our arrival.” Instead of dragging you by the arm, he moves his hand and opens it, waiting for you to slip yours into his. 

Months had passed since you had bumped into Erik, Charles had accepted you into their family, proving to you that you were one of them. Erik had come and gone many of times since he had taken you here, and each time you began to dread when he had to leave again. Your relationship with him was okay, it had begun quite stiff and slowly blossomed into a friendship, the only issue is you fell for him. But you knew you weren’t good enough for a man like Erik, Bucky had proved that. 

Today you were excited though, Erik was coming back, and you had decided to wear your favourite dress, remembering the first time you had worn it, and he couldn’t stop staring at it. Deep down your insecurities were saying it’s because he hated the dress and was wondering how someone like you could ruin a pretty piece of clothing by wearing it, but another part of you had hoped it was the opposite, that he liked your dress.

You walk out of your room, smoothing out your dress as you begin to head to the door where you hear voices. A smile forms on your face, ready to see Erik again. You enter the room and your smile falls, he had finally found you. You didn’t want to face him, he was the reason you didn’t think you were good enough anymore. 

‘Y/n, I don’t want you to think I invited him, I tried to stop him, but I cannot do much unless I control someone’s mind and you understand why I didn’t, right?’ Charles speaks into your mind, your eyes connect with his and you nod.

“This is where you’ve been this whole time?! Do you know how worried we were?! How could you be so stupid!!” Bucky growls, moving closer. It’s as though you up and leaving him had struck a nerve, but you don’t know why, he didn’t love you like you did him. 

You hated yourself in this moment, you wanted to stand up for yourself and show him that his words didn’t hurt, but everything was coming back, and you couldn’t move or speak. “I–I…” 

“Take one step closer to her and I’ll shove that arm of yours down your throat.” A voice speaks from behind you, Erik steps out from the shadows, moving closer to you. His hand rests on your lower back, calming you down when you didn’t even know you needed to be calm. 

Bucky spins his arm, glaring. “Who are you?” His eyes fall to where Erik’s hand rests before he looks at you. “Is this why you ran off? Because you’re a whore?” Bucky steps forward, ignoring Erik’s warning causing Bucky to let out a cry of pain as his arm begins to get crushed.

“I warned you to not step closer to her. Yet you ignored that and insulted her.” He moves in front of you, pulling you to stay behind him. “Charles may have not wanted to control your mind because he’s a good guy, but I’m not.” With a flick of his hand, Bucky rises and gets thrown through the door. Erik stalks forward and glares at him. “If you ever come near Y/n again, I will kill you.” He makes sure to watch Bucky leave before he turns and walks toward you before you can even open your mouth to thank him, he grips the sides of your face and pulls you in, bringing you into a passionate kiss. 

Was this what love felt like?

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[steddiehyperfixation]

so you don't get lost (steddie ficlet)

written for @steddielovemonth day 17 rating: T cw: alcohol tags: first kiss, clubbing, college au, platonic stobin prompt: Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost

“She’s totally into me, right?” Robin asks as they wait for their drinks at the bar, her smile a mile wide, and it’s been a minute since Steve’s seen her smile like that. 

“Yeah, totally,” Steve agrees. The girl Robin’s been talking to all night is drifting back over to them even as they speak, the two of them like magnets since they first traded smiles on the dance floor earlier that night. 

Robin glances back at her and bites back a wider grin. She bounces on her tippy toes and whispers to Steve, “If I make out with her it’s not gonna make you feel awkward, is it?” 

Steve shakes his head. “Go ahead,” he encourages. 

It had been a group effort to get Robin out tonight. Her university friends had enlisted Steve to help drag her out of the mopey funk she’d been in since getting broken up with two weeks ago, and it had taken an hour of Steve hyping her up while she kept crying off her attempts to do her makeup before she finally managed to make it to the club. He’s just glad it had been worth it. 

“I don’t even know if I remember how to do this,” Robin mutters, a little nervously, as she and Steve grab their drinks and rejoin her friends on the dance floor. But it turns out, she has nothing to worry about. The two girls resume their orbit around each other, and the second the next beat drops and the lights strobe, the other girl finally pulls Robin into a heated kiss. Steve watches this, and he smiles fondly. She deserves it. He’s happy for her. 

And he’s totally not jealous. Not necessarily of Robin, obviously, or the girl she’s kissing, but simply of the fact that they’ve so easily found a hot drunk stranger to make out with at the club and he…hasn’t. He can’t even remember the last time he’s had a decent kiss, much less scored at a club, though not for not wanting to. 

Steve finds himself glancing at Robin’s friend Eddie, the tatted-up metalhead Steve’s felt a pull towards since the first time they’d met. He thinks about kissing him every time they’re out together, and maybe there was a time when Steve would’ve just gone for it, a time before he’d taken a few too many hits to the ego and developed doubts and insecurities, but now the thought just makes him nervous. Eddie makes him nervous. 

He feels that nervousness now as Eddie catches him staring and he shakes those lovely dark curls out of his face and smiles at him. It bubbles in his stomach, flutters in his chest. Steve downs the rest of his drink and looks away. The alcohol floods heat through his veins and blurs his vision, but the ever-present thrum of anxiety just from being in Eddie’s proximity still isn’t dulled. He bobs numbly to the music, avoiding looking at anybody at all now, only staring at the floor or the wall or some super fascinating point just above everyone’s heads, sure he looks like an absolute freak. 

It goes beyond just wanting to kiss Eddie; Steve’s not stupid, he knows the only explanation for this sheer amount of nervousness he feels around him is that he’s got an actual, proper crush. Because not only is Eddie super fucking hot, he’s also sweet. Steve is an outsider in this group and he knows it, the college dropout who only tags along because Robin insists on it, but Eddie never makes him feel like that. It’s always Eddie who makes sure he’s included in conversations, always Eddie who makes a point to loop Steve into the context of inside jokes and stories whenever Robin is too distracted to. Steve craves those interactions, gets a thrill every time Eddie so much as speaks to him. So he doesn’t only want to kiss him, he also just wants Eddie to like him, wants him to see him as a friend at the very least. But it’s not like they’ve ever even hung out outside of a group setting, and sometimes Steve fears Eddie’s just being nice and he doesn’t actually see him as anything at all. 

Steve’s drifted so far into his own head he doesn’t realize his group is on the move, pushing deeper into the dance floor and leaving him behind. 

“Steve!” Eddie’s voice calls out to him and snaps him out of it. Everyone else has been taken by the crowd, but Eddie hangs back, reaching his hand out to Steve. 

Steve takes it, swallowing down the way his heart pounds as Eddie’s fingers curl around his hand. Eddie pulls him through the throng of jostling, sweaty bodies, and even though he maintains a tight grip on Steve’s hand, he still keeps looking back at him like he’s making extra sure Steve doesn’t get lost. Warmth blooms in Steve’s chest. Maybe he’s just drunk, maybe he’s just delusional, but all of the sudden he feels so very very cared for. 

“Thanks,” Steve says, nearly shouting to be heard over the music. 

“‘Course.” Eddie smiles as he turns around to face him. They’ve caught up to their friends now, but he’s still holding Steve’s hand. “I’d never just leave you stranded.” 

Of course he wouldn’t. He never has before. Steve just smiles back and squeezes Eddie’s hand. 

They’ve only just let go of each other when Robin and her girl, still kissing clumsily and staggering about the dance floor, stumble straight into Steve and knock him off balance. “Woah!” Eddie reaches for him again instantly, looping an arm around Steve’s waist to keep him from toppling over or careening into the crowd. 

“Ah! Sorry!” Robin giggles before she’s whisked away again. 

Eddie laughs. “Good for her, right?” 

“Yeah, good for her,” Steve says, watching his best friend spin out of sight, and when he looks back he startles at how close he and Eddie are, suddenly very aware of Eddie’s arm around his waist and his hands on Eddie’s chest. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks, his grip on Steve tightening like he means to steady him. 

“Yeah, thanks again.” Steve regains his footing, but he doesn’t pull away. There’s something there, he thinks, in the way Eddie’s always reaching out to him so he doesn’t get lost, literally and figuratively, in crowds and conversations. It could just be friendly, it could just be nothing, but for the first time, Steve lets himself hope. He even thinks about leaning in right now, but then he thinks about it too much, and he doesn’t. 

Instead, there’s a weird moment where they’re both just staring at each other. Eddie’s got this confused little smile on his face like he’s waiting to see what Steve will do, and when Steve doesn’t do anything, Eddie’s smile abruptly becomes more playful as if he’s trying to break the tension, and he starts theatrically swaying them to the music, even though it is most definitely not the swaying sort of beat. Steve laughs, his racing heart making it come out giddy and giggly, especially when Eddie drops his waist to grab his hand and twirl him around. 

Eddie pulls him in close again then, and this time Steve doesn’t think at all. In fact, it’s unclear which one of them leans in first; all Steve knows is that their lips finally, finally meet in the middle and he finally, finally gets to tangle his hands in Eddie’s hair, and it’s sweet and it’s hungry and it’s absolutely perfect. Steve holds onto Eddie and he gets lost in him. 

When Steve meets back up with Robin outside after the club closes, they exchange a celebratory, congratulatory high five, the both of them with matching kiss-swollen lips and dates set for next week.