#and let’s say it was dark and steve didn’t see the full thing cause he’d never think/say soda was ugly lol

[alaskan-wallflower]

steve: “who is she.”

soda: “who’s who?”

steve “that ugly girl i saw leavin’ your house an’ drivin’ your car.”

soda: first of all, she’s not ugly. second of all, that was me.

steve: …say what now

[wheneverfeasible]

Ruin Me (part 1)

wc: 2.2k || rating: M (for now) || summary: Steve shows up on Eddie’s doorstep with an unpredictable offer. || tags: omegaverse, alpha!Eddie Munson, omega!Steve Harrington, intersex omegas (see ao3 for full tags) || posted in full on ao3

Also, special shoutout to @lexirosewrites for getting me back into omegaverse and inspiring me to write intersex omegas for the first time. If you haven’t read any of her stuff, you’re missing out!

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

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The pounding of the trailer door alost wasn’t heard over the loud crack of thunder that accompanied the lightning flash from a few moments earlier. It was pissing cats and dogs outside, or at least that’s what Uncle Wayne had called it before he left for work an hour ago, Eddie anxiously watching the red lights of his truck as his uncle disappeared into the gloom.

With a frown, his eyes casting about for any sort of potential weapon since he wasn’t expecting anyone at the trailer, Eddie softly huffed at his paranoia and carefully eased the front door open to whoever was banging on the outside. He didn’t typically do his deals out of the trailer, not wanting to bring that shit home to Wayne even though the older man knew what he got up to, but he also hadn’t caused any trouble lately (that he knew of at least), so he was at a loss for who would brave the weather at this time of night for little old him.

Maybe one of the trailer park residents needed help with their generator or something. Usually Wayne was called on for that sort of shit, no one wanting to deal with his troubled nephew, but if it was a dire situation, then it wouldn’t be the first time he’d helped out some of the other families nearby. Their power seemed perfectly fine, however, so he didn’t think a blackout was an issue. Still, it made far more sense than…

Steve Harrington.

Eddie blinked at the completely waterlogged figure standing on the front steps of the Munson trailer, the younger boy looking more akin to a wet dog than was typical as his normally bouffant hair was all but plastered to his skull under the pouring rain. Without wind, the thick droplets were coming down in a heavy sheet, nearly obscuring the sight of Harrington’s fancy car parked behind him in the dark. The weak light from the bulb next to the door cast Harrington in a waxy hue, though it easily picked up the way the guy was shivering as he wrapped his arms around himself.

Another sharp flash of light pierced the sky, causing Eddie to rear back slightly at the sudden whiteness everywhere, though he didn’t miss the way that Harrington jumped like a startled cat at the next accompanying boom of thunder. Harrington opened his mouth to say something, but Eddie could barely hear it over the pouring rain hitting the gravel and dirt outside, much less the metal of the trailer roof.

Letting out another huff, knowing he had no other option (besides slamming the door in Harrington’s face and pretending this never happened), Eddie stepped back and aside with a mocking sweep of his arm to invite the former king of Hawkins High inside. Harrington hesitated however, and Eddie was certain he’d be stenched with revulsion at entering the shabby home of the town’s resident teenage drug dealer, but the pouring rain downed every other scent out.

Baring his teeth, Eddie pointed a little more sharply inside before rolling his eyes as Harrington only widened his eyes slightly and took a step back. Whatever the fuck. Eddie didn’t need to play chicken with Harrington if all people, so he made to slam the front door again and forget this whole thing, only Harrington’s hand shot out at the last moment and prevented Eddie from completing the movement. Eddie’s hackles rose, a growl building low in his throat.

He knew he couldn’t swing on the guy if he wanted to cause trouble. Sure, Eddie was an alpha and though he never fought back when Harrington’s cronies jumped him or the other freaks, he knew he could hold his own in a fight. At least a fight against someone like Harrington, an omega whose only claim to a bit of fisticuffs was getting his ass handed to him by that Byers kid last year and more recently that new alpha in town, Hargrove. Eddie was sorry to have missed it.

However, Harrington was a, well, a Harrington. His rich daddy and socialite mommy had this whole town eating out of their hands, and the name Harrington held significant weight. Maybe not quite town royalty or whatever, but they had presence, a certain gravitas, and Eddie was trailer trash and son of a criminal. He was a Munson. For many in this godforsaken town, that translated to the lowest of the low.

So no, while Eddie probably could beat this asshole bloody if it came to that, he also couldn’t. Not if he didn’t want the cops sent after him, or possibly even cause Wayne to lose his job if the Harrington pricks wanted to be vindictive. He figured that would be a given too if it got out just who gave Harrington another black eye. He wasn’t like Byers or Hargrove; he wouldn’t have anyone the town considered noteworthy standing in his corner if Harrington wanted to press charges.

Harrington didn’t look like he wanted to cause trouble though. No, his big brown eyes were wide and anxious, and suddenly Eddie didn’t think his shivering had to do entirely with being soaked in cold rain. Which he was still in, the slight overhang of the roof at the front steps doing nothing to shield the guy from the downpour. Though Eddie couldn’t make out his words over the raucous, he could just about read the single word Harrington spoke with slightly purple-tinged lips: “Please.”

Now, Eddie wasn’t the sort of alpha to fall all over himself to please any pretty omega who batted their lashes at him. He didn’t give a shit about what society viewed traditional roles to be, for either the first or secondary genders, or the hierarchy of such things. Let girls do what they want, let omegas do what they want, and Jesus H. Christ, let boys and alphas and everyone else do what they want as well. What was between someone’s legs shouldn’t equate to their worth or anything like that.

And those alphas who postured for simpering omegas? Ridiculous. Just because he was an alpha didn’t mean he had to compete for an omega’s affections or do his best to try to knot one. He didn’t give a shit about pheromones or biology or anything else.

Yet, seeing Harrington like this, nervous and scared and pleading with those big brown eyes of his, well…Eddie was only human.

Suppressing a sigh, Eddie held the door open wide and ushered Harrington in, who cast Eddie only one last mildly alarmed look before he hunched his shoulders up and shuffled into the trailer. Trailing a veritable pool of water in his wake. Rolling his eyes with a grumble, Eddie finally shut the door, muffling the sound of the pouring rain finally. Enough to be able to actually hear Harrington without having to yell, though the drumming on the trailer roof didn’t sound like it was going to let up any time soon.

“Just…” Eddie sighed out, still not knowing why Steve Harrington was at his trailer looking like that, but like hell was he going to let the dickwad get water everywhere. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Was it drugs? Did Harrington want drugs? Couldn’t the guy wait until Monday at school like everyone else? Though, he supposed since it was Saturday tomorrow the jerk could want some for the weekend, especially if there was a party, but this was super last minute! Eddie was definitely adding a surcharge if that’s what this was.

And really, he didn’t know what else it could be.

He didn’t bother to question how Harrington knew where he lived. It was Hawkins. Everyone knew where everyone lived. He was just thankful that the assholes at school had never tried much of anything to the trailer, though that was probably because of Wayne and the shotgun shells he left around to deter anyone dumb enough to try anything.

Snatching a towel from the hall cupboard, he turned back around to find Harrington standing in the same exact spot as he had been before. When Eddie told him not to move. He withheld a snort at that, not having expected the guy to actually listen. Even as it was, he could tell that Harrington was taking stock of his surroundings, no doubt sneering at the way peasants lived.

Though, when Eddie whistled to gain his attention and caused the other boy to turn to look at him, there was no trace of derision to be found. Harrington was still shivering though, his teeth now lightly chattering at the (only slightly) warmer temperature inside the trailer.

“Here,” he said, tossing the towel at Harrington who easily caught it, trembling and all.

“Th-thanks,” Harrington said, and he also looked genuinely grateful, using the towel to wipe off his face and then gently scrunch at his hair. It looked a mess, whatever product left in it making it look almost worse than before, clumping in sections and flat in others. He then took to carefully rubbing the towel over his body, grimacing at the sodden state of his clothing.

Eddie watched with a neutral, blank expression, crossing his arms over his chest as he finally took in Harrington’s clothing. He wasn’t wearing a jacket at all, just a burgundy Henley that clung to his form in its wet state, paired with some khaki trousers and some sort of loafer dress shoe. Minus the wet dog appearance, he was certainly far better dressed than Eddie’s own stretched and faded band shirt and holey jeans.

Then again, it wasn’t like Eddie had been expecting company that night.

More annoying than anything, however, was that Harrington’s natural scent was starting to show through. Eddie thought biological imperatives were stupid, of course, and had no qualms about sleeping with any gender or secondary gender, but he couldn’t deny that there was something about omegas that just smelled all that more…sweeter.

And Edward Munson was notorious for having a sweet tooth.

Harrington had a disgustingly (deliciously) sweet scent, though there was also something spiced to it, something almost acidic that only complemented the sweetness, enhancing it, making it all the more aggravating (appealing). Now, however…

Eddie’s nose wrinkled slightly as the sour notes of distress wafted off Harrington, a little subdued maybe as he focused on drying himself, but it was obvious something had sent him running straight to Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie took a small sniff of the air, seeking out the tell-tale signs of pre-heat. It was the only sort of thing Eddie could figure would cause Harrington to seek him out so suddenly and desperately in this weather, since it was more than just recreational drugs that he provided. The government, especially in rural Indiana, held certain beliefs about the availability of suppressants and birth control.

It wouldn’t be the first time Eddie provided an omega with such things when they couldn’t get it elsewhere. He also sold rut suppressants as well, though those were less sought after, and why would they be when so many believed it was an alpha’s god-given right to rut and take without question? Omegas, however…

Omegas were sluts if they took advantage of their heats while unmated. Can’t give them suppressants, though, because it was their duty to present to an alpha and be claimed as soon as they were of pup-bearing age. And forget about birth control. Omegas were often only seen as good for two things, and the first thing always led to the other.

It sickened Eddie more than anything, so while he had to make some sort of profit, he also frequently cut the price on the medicinal shit and hijacked the price on the recreational to cover any loss. People like Harrington, however, who could afford that shit at full price easily, well…it helped the less fortunate if he paid in full for it, didn’t it?

“Why are you here, Harrington?” Eddie finally asked after another crash of thunder, arms crossed over his chest, mentally counting his stores of whatever sort of drug the asshole could want. Percocet? Molly? A little politician’s sugar? Or did he want the omega shit after all?

Harrington looked up at that from where he was trying to dab at his socks peeking out of his shoes, straightening as He looked at Eddie with widened eyes again, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he thickly swallowed.

That sour scent started seeping out of him again, but then he shuddered slightly and took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as he seemed to orient himself. The stench of distressed omega ebbed a little, and then he opened his eyes to stare directly into Eddie’s own with a confidence more befitting the traditional idea of an alpha.

“I want you to ruin me.”

next

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Here’s the first part (more of a preview than anything) of the long awaited fic I’ve been teasing for a while. The fic is fully completed on ao3, but will be posted in parts here on tumblr with some added commentary on the bottom.

Next part should be posted this Sunday!

If you would like to be added to the tag list or removed from it once this part is live, just let me know!

Tag List:

@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @amerikanskaya-krassavitsa @scoops-aboy86

[makeadealwithdean]

taking good care of you. steddie smut, 18+ only, minors dni, 4.2k

Steve wasn’t even ashamed of himself.

Sure, he could admit that maybe he should be, and true, stripping his lube-covered cock to thoughts of his best friend wasn’t something he was proud of. But laying on his back, staring up at his ceiling, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. It just felt wayyy too damn good.

He tried to push his mind towards other things. Things he probably should be thinking about. Boobs. Girls riding him. Long hair brushing his cheeks as she leaned over to kiss him. Maybe dark, curly hair— Fuck, he was thinking of Eddie again. That didn’t take long.

But thinking of Eddie’s face, those pretty brown eyes staring back at him, caused Steve’s dick to twitch in his hand, so really, he couldn’t be mad at himself.

Thump, thump, Ed-die, Ed-die. Steve’s heartbeat was pounding in his ears, and to his maybe over excited brain, it sounded like a pattern, a mantra that was Eddie’s name, sounding over and over again in his mind. 

The fire burning in his gut only grew with each beat of his heart and each thought of the unruly metalhead that, as of recently, had taken up permanent residence in Steve’s head.

He was so wrapped up in letting his fantasies of Eddie run fucking wild that he failed to hear the first thud against his door.

The mental image that currently held Steve’s focus was that of his friend sinking down onto his cock over and over. Hot and wet and soft– his walls would practically suck Steve inside of him, he thought. He’d hardly have to do any work, but Eddie would let him grasp his thighs, his ass, maybe he’d even get to rub him off while he was still seated, and he’d be saying Steve’s name— fuck, that’d be so hot. He couldn’t help panting just thinking about it. Fuck.

There was a soft thump again at the door, and suddenly, it swung open. Fuck. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, shit. 

It was Eddie. He bounced in with a smile, “Ste–” The word died on his lips as he took in the sight in front of him. “Oh, shit.” And then he froze. As in, not moving. As in, just stood there, not leaving— just…there.

“Shit!” Steve scrambled to pull the closest pillow over his lap, which thankfully was one of a normal size, not a throw pillow, so it provided full coverage from his friend’s stunned stare. “Shit, sorry, Eddie, um. I didn’t know you were here… Um.”

Steve didn’t know what else to say. Say something, he silently begged the boy in front of him.

Eddie threw his hand over his eyes, now somewhat unnecessarily, and then seemingly realizing that, slowly pulled his hand down. His face was bright red. His eyes nervously flicked back and forth between Steve and the floor, “Steve, um, I am so sorry. I thought you knew I was here. I mean, I knocked and called your name, and I thought you said mine back so…”

Steve’s face matched the shade that Eddie’s was in two seconds flat, his eyes wide with panic. Shit, he hadn’t actually said that out loud, had he? Not his friend’s name, aloud, jacking off, while said friend called to him from just outside the door? No… that couldn’t have happened. This couldn’t be happening.

Eddie trailed off as he appeared to have realized what he just said, his mouth gaping just a bit. “Umm. Wait, so you didn’t know I was here?”

Steve swallowed. He could lie to him, but 1) he hated lying to his friends, and 2) Eddie would see right through him. If he’d known Eddie was here, he wouldn’t have been jacking off, and frankly, there was no reason for him to be saying Eddie’s name in the middle of that,,, other than the truth. God, this was gonna fuck everything up. He just knew it, but he owed him his honesty. Especially after he’d seen all that.

Steve slowly shook his head. And then stared down at his hands fidgeting on top of his modesty pillow. 

“So, um,” Eddie scratched the back of his head and blinked like he couldn’t believe he was about to ask this question, “then why…? I swear I heard…”

“I said it,” Steve blurted out abruptly, mostly to have it over with and also because maybe some small part of him hoped that just maybe… But Eddie just looked startled. 

“Your name. I said your name,” Steve clarified. His face was still burning, and Eddie was still just standing there. It was fucking killing him— Steve felt like he was withering away even as they spoke.

“You…” Eddie nodded once slowly, processing. Steve chanced a glance at Eddie’s face, expecting to see something between confusion and anger, or maybe even disgust. Instead, he saw an expression he definitely hadn’t expected.

Eddie was smiling. That fucking unhinged, almost creepy, signature Eddie-Munson grin. He was also trying not to, but that grin was wild. It was raw, unfiltered emotion; though Steve couldn’t put a particular name to that emotion immediately. The corners of his mouth started to twitch, almost like…

“Are you laughing at me?” Steve demanded.

Now, Eddie laughed, “No, Stevie. I’m not laughing at you, it’s just— well, you look like you’re about to jump right outta your skin.”

“Well, yeah!” Steve defended, “you walked in on me with my dick out!” 

“And,” Eddie said with a triumphant smirk, “you said my name.”

Steve glared.

“Now, why was that again, big boy? I don’t think I ever got a reason.” Eddie traipsed over and plopped himself down on the bed, right up against Steve’s thigh. Steve looked at the wall, determined not to look at this lanky man who was apparently making fun of him in his own goddamned room.

But that lasted all of two seconds because Eddie reached up and gently turned Steve’s face back towards his own. Much to Steve’s horror, the gesture caused his dick to twitch once again— God, why did Eddie have to fucking look at him like that? He had never been more thankful for that pillow.

“Are you gonna tell me, hm?” Eddie asked him, much more softly now, maybe aware that he was walking onto unsteady ground. “Or am I gonna have to guess?” He rested his palm gently on Steve’s thigh, just below the pillow, and Steve gasped inwardly. Was Eddie really going there with this?

“Ummm,” Steve croaked, reeling from coming off first petrified, then indignant, to…something else. Intrigued? Confused? Shocked? Horny? Yeah, definitely still horny. 

Might as well tell him the truth, Steve decided. There was no point in denying it, especially since Eddie had already figured it out. Not that that had been hard to do. Steve rolled his eyes at himself inwardly. Stupid.

Before he could get another word out, Eddie cut in, his smug persona dipping for a second, revealing that he was, in true Eddie-fashion, about to vibrate out of his skin. 

“Were you, uh, thinking about me?” His brown eyes looked up at Steve earnestly for a second, before slowly dragging down Steve’s hair-covered chest. “Cause,” he rushed on, “if you were, I might offer to help you out.” 

Eddie said it almost like a question, but when Steve gave him a wide-eyed look and shifted uncomfortably, he smirked. 

Did Eddie really just say that to me? 

Shit. I should probably say something. 

Is he serious?

Steve’s internal monologue was having three different conversations all at once, his mind asking a thousand questions, but all he could manage to get out was, “Um. You— what?”

Eddie’s smirk faltered a little, “You can say no, Steve. I can walk out, and we can forget this ever happened. Or…”

He trailed off, and Steve’s mind once again raced trying to fill in the blank. No, he didn’t want Eddie to leave. Get a grip, Steve. 

“No, um, yes.”

Eddie smirk returned, “I don’t know what that means, Stevie.”

Steve huffed because Eddie’s shit-eating grin was getting old. At least, when it was at the expense of his own embarrassment. “I mean stay.”

“Stay and what?” Eddie raised an eyebrow as if he was still uncertain what Steve meant. 

“Eddie—”

“No, say it or I’m walking out,” Eddie took his hand off Steve’s thigh and placed it on the mattress as if he was about to stand to leave. 

Steve grabbed his wrist, glaring at him again, and gritted out, “Stay and—” he hesitated again, but only briefly, “help me.”

“Good enough,” Eddie hummed before surging forward and pulling his friend into a searing kiss. 

He kissed like Steve imagined he would. Or…maybe he didn’t. He started rough, all teeth and huffing breaths, but once Steve got over his initial shock and began to kiss him back, he slowed down a bit. Just as passionate as he’d started, only gentler, as if he were offering Steve the chance to take the lead. 

Steve was content to let Eddie guide him towards pleasure though. His dick had slightly deflated from the horror of being walked in on by the very object of his *ahem* affections, but had now fully recovered, and Steve could feel it straining against the pillow that was now pinned between him and Eddie.

He shifted slightly, and Eddie, noticing his movement, broke the kiss, a thin string of saliva still connecting them, to ask, “Mm, can I move this, baby?” His hand moved to the edge of the pillow as if to pull it away, but he didn’t, clearly waiting for Steve’s okay.

But Steve, whose brain had short circuited for a second at Eddie’s “baby,” didn’t answer immediately or even register what Eddie had said before the pet name, just nuzzled into the older boy’s cheek, inhaling the scent of his hair, weed and that cheap cologne he always wore. Eddie chuckled at Steve’s answer, or lack thereof.

“Stevie—” Eddie prompted softly, pulling back and smiling as Steve pouted at the loss of contact. “D’you want me to touch you or not?”

“Yes! Yes, god, Eds,” Steve nodded, reaching towards him as if he was worried Eddie would slip away, given the chance. “Please.”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie hushed him gently, leaning into him as he yanked the pillow out from in between them and straddled Steve’s thighs, “M’gonna, just had to make sure you’re okay. M’not going anywhere, shh.”

With the only barrier, save Eddie’s clothes, separating them gone, Steve was whining, the rough denim of Eddie’s jeans dragging against his bare cock. “S-sensitive,” he stuttered into Eddie’s neck.

“Already? Barely even touched you, sweetheart,” Eddie laughed, kissing his hair. “Now, tell me what you want.”

“Huh?” Steve’s face crinkled in confusion, his head tilted slightly. His brain was too foggy to think clearly. His breath came in pants, “What– whaddya mean?”

Eddie smirked fondly, “C’mon, I know how worked up you are. I don’t think you’ll last much longer, baby. So tell me how you want me to make you come. Or… were you wanting to do that yourself?”

Steve shook his head almost frantically, his big eyes gazing at Eddie, pleading,” N-no, want you to do it, please?”

“I said I would, pretty boy. Anything, you name it.”

Steve’s eyes got even bigger, “Anything?”

“Anything,” Eddie confirmed. He pushed his hips forward gently, his jeans once again brushing Steve’s dick. He shuddered at the touch and wrapped his fingers around Eddie’s belt loops, pulling him closer. His fingers wandered to the button and the zipper, and he looked up with the prettiest pout Eddie had ever seen, pupils blown wide with want. “Can I? Please?” He tugged at the waistband for emphasis, but didn’t move to undo anything until Eddie nodded.

“Go on, then,” Eddie quipped, not missing the subtle way Steve’s breath hitched at his command. Steve undid his pants with more dexterity than Eddie would’ve thought possible, with the way Steve was speaking. He looked positively fucked out, and they hadn’t even done more than kiss.

“Take ‘em off, please?” Steve pleaded, fingertips already wandering under the elastic of Eddie’s boxers. 

“Everything?” Eddie prompted, hoping Steve would continue pleading with those little whimpers and pouts of his. He wasn’t disappointed. Steve already looked nearly in tears with desperation when he nodded. Eddie obliged, standing and stripping completely, leaving them both totally bare to each other.

Eddie tugged the covers down a little from Steve’s lap, leaving himself enough room to kneel in between the younger boy’s legs. He settled on his knees, grinned, and then flung his arms out dramatically, “How do you want me, my king?” 

Steve didn’t know what to say. He felt way too flustered to even speak. Even Eddie’s dorky “King Steve” reference couldn’t dampen the fire he felt growing in his gut, just from seeing Eddie’s tattooed and naked form. He had imagined this before, but holy shit, the real thing was so much better. He didn’t wanna push Eddie’s limits though, so he stuttered out, “D-do you wanna blow me?”

“I would be happy to, baby, but you sound hesitant. Why don’t you tell me what it is you really want, hmm?” Eddie hooked a hand behind the boy’s neck, and as he bent to leave faint marks on the pale skin of his neck, Steve melted into his shoulder, letting out a broken sounding whine. Apparently he didn’t need much convincing. 

“Wanna— I wanna be inside you, Eds,” he cried, hot breath fanning across Eddie’s shoulder and neck. “Please, please, let me!”

“Ohh, there’s my sweet boy,” Eddie cooed as he wound his fingers up into Steve’s normally perfect hair. He scratched gently at the skin of his scalp, hoping that would help relax him a bit; though, Eddie would be lying if he said he didn’t think the sight of Steve nearly in tears, bucking his hips in desperation was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. “Let you be inside of me? That, I can do.”

Steve gasped, “Really? Cause you don’t have to if you don’t wanna, I know it’s a lot, maybe it’s too much to start? We don’t have to, I’m sorry, just—”

“Stevie, Stevie!” Eddie’s voice cut through Steve’s spiral. “First, I’m the one who said anything, and second, I was hoping you’d ask for that, cause honestly, you’re fucking massive, baby. Been dreaming about getting that thick cock inside me.” He dropped a reassuring kiss on Steve’s sweaty forehead and smiled as Steve visibly relaxed against him.

“Fuck. Fuck, Eds, I can’t believe—” Steve shook his head, looking adorably bewildered as to how he ended up in this position, when truthfully, Eddie was the shocked one. If someone had told him a year ago, he’d be going for a ride on King Steve’s infamous cock, he would’ve asked for a hit of whatever they’d been smoking. But here he was, and there Steve was, resting back against the headboard with this look in his eyes, like Eddie had hung the moon or something.

“C’mon, let’s get you comfortable, sweet boy,” Eddie backed up on his knees, grabbing Steve’s pretty thighs, giving him a few meaningful tugs to coax him towards where he wanted him. Steve got the idea, and soon, with Eddie’s help, he was lying flat on his back with just his head resting on the soft pillows. 

“Perfect, you’re doing so good for me,” Eddie told him as he straddled his stomach once again, his knees supporting all his weight so that his ass just hovered right over Steve’s impressive length. His cock would’ve been standing straight up, but the sheer weight and girth of it didn’t allow for it. Eddie’s, however, being thinner, stood straight out, waving with every little movement he made, and Steve was obviously transfixed. His eyes followed its every move, and Eddie chuckled at the awed look in his eyes, “Like what you see?”

Steve tore his eyes away from Eddie cock and up to his face to answer him, “Uh-huh, uh, a lot. Can I?” He inclined his head towards it, his hands making a grabby motion, but not yet touching.

“Well,” Eddie reached for the lube that Steve had conveniently left on his bedside table, and flicked the cap open, reaching behind to start opening himself up, “of course, you can, sweetheart. So perfect for asking me. Why don’t you make me feel good while I get all ready for you?”

“Oh,” Steve said, doing as Eddie asked and wrapping his fingers around his length, “d’ya need me to– y’know, help you?”

“That’s okay, I may have already opened myself up a bit this morning, and who knows? Maybe I was thinking of you as I did it,” Eddie winked, smirking as Steve managed to look even more awed than before. He loved the effect he had on the boy, and having this power over him was definitely giving him a slight ego.

“Shit, that’s so fucking hot,” Steve moaned, throwing his head back on the pillows and still obediently pumping Eddie’s shaft, whined, “Want you please, let me, I need you so fucking bad, Eddie—”

And Eddie, hissing as Steve’s grip tightened on him, pressed his non-lubed up hand on Steve’s chest, bracing himself. He grabbed Steve’s shaft and lined up, the tip catching on his rim as he rubbed it against himself. Steve let out a choked noise, but angel that he was, kept still; though his big eyes pleaded with Eddie to hurry.

“S’alright, I gotcha, big boy. Just— gimme a second to adjust, mkay?”

Steve nodded, hands resting briefly on Eddie’s thighs, allowing him to concentrate on the feeling of the ring of muscle stretching over the thick head. Eddie placed both hands on Steve’s chest, fingers winding gently into the hair there as he braced for the pain of the stretch. It hurt, but not too much thanks to Eddie’s earlier tryst with himself, and gradually, the pain began to morph into pleasure.

“Fuuuuckkk,” Eddie moaned as he sank down onto Steve’s length until he was fully seated. He let himself rest for a minute, his weight sagging onto the hips of the boy now panting harder underneath him, every huff of air coming out higher-pitched than the one before. Steve looked like a fucking wet dream, sweaty hair plastered to his forehead and chest heaving as he pouted up at Eddie to “move, please, I–I can’t—”

Eddie felt the pain subside completely, and he was about to ride the former jock off into the sunset, when he remembered the whimpers Steve had let out every time he’d praised him or given him an order. “What, baby?”

Steve stuttered out some variation of his previous request, but Eddie just leaned down to his ear, taunting, “I don’t know what you said, Stevie. Now, be a good boy, and use your words f’me.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up in a mixture of shock. He tipped his head back into the pillow, moaning, and Eddie swore he felt his dick kick inside of him. He managed a shaky, “Please, Eddie, need you to move, please. Please let me feel you?”

“That’s my boy,” Eddie cooed, using his thumb to wipe away some moisture under Steve’s eye. “Hang on, baby, I’m about to make you feel so good.”

He sat up straight and began to move up and down. Slowly at first, then gradually building a pace that had Steve’s toes curling.

“Uh, uh, uh,” Steve chanted as Eddie slammed down on his cock over and over again. Eddie reached behind him, gripping the top of the headboard and using it as leverage to increase his speed. Steve moaned pitifully underneath him. His lips were bitten red and shiny from how much he’d been licking them.

That sound. Steve’s moans had Eddie harder than he’d thought possible, and truthfully, he’d been hard since he’d accidentally walked in on Steve with his dick in his hand. The same dick that was now overwhelming his senses. He was so big, and with the drag of it along his walls and the sight of his friend lost in pleasure, it was taking every ounce of self-control he had to appear as collected as he did. So he gritted his teeth, pumping his own aching cock to relieve some of the pressure, and forbade himself from coming.

And it was worth it to watch as Steve fell apart.

Eddie's thighs burned, and he shifted from the up and down motion to grinding, rolling his hips. With the shift in angle, Steve was nailing that spot inside him that Eddie had only found a few times on his own, and suddenly, he was seeing stars. 

“Fuckfuckfuck–” he cried, nearly losing his composure completely. “Right there, Steve, right there, baby! Shit, that’s so good. Almost made me come.”

When he looked into Steve’s face, he saw a plethora of emotions. The desperation and need for him was still there, but this time he found a bit of determination in the boy’s watery eyes.

Steve placed his hands on Eddie’s hips and breathing hard, said in a raspy, nearly broken voice, “God, please let me make you come, Eds. I swear I’ll do good, please say I can!” Tears slipped out from the corners of his eyes and ran down to the pillows as he begged, pleaded, with Eddie to allow him to help.

And who was Eddie to deny him? Especially looking like that.

“Show me what you got, big boy,” Eddie released the headboard and leaned back, supported by Steve’s bent knees. He stroked his cock, thumb swiping over the tip, and used his own pre-come as lube.

Steve nodded, gripping Eddie’s hips so tightly Eddie thought he might leave little fingerprint bruises. Steve pushed up on his feet and set his own pace, fucking up into Eddie’s heat with such speed and accuracy, Eddie knew he was done for. He’d wanted Steve to come first, himself be damned, but if Steve was so insistent on needing Eddie to finish first…well, again, who was Eddie to deny him?

“Steve!” Eddie practically screamed his name. “Yes, baby, right fucking there! Doing so, so good. Gonna make me come— ah, don’t stop!”

And Steve didn’t stop. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead, and he was now fully in tears for how good it felt, but he could feel Eddie tightening around him. He knew that’s how he wanted to come— with Eddie squeezing and tightening around him. “Yeah? Yeah, please, Eddie, want you to come so bad!”

Steve watched as Eddie’s face scrunched up, and he gasped, hand still flying on his cock, “Ah! Ah, I’m coming, I’m coming, fuuuckkkk—” White ropes shot from his tip landing all over his hand, and Steve’s chest. His muscles were squeezing Steve like a fucking vice, and it was all Steve could do to ask first.

“That’s it, fuck, Eds. I needa— shit, can I come, like ins—” He hadn’t even finished the question before Eddie was nodding frantically, his muscles still constricting with pleasure.

“Fuck, yeah, do it, baby.” Given Eddie’s consent, Steve let go.

He let out a guttural moan as his balls seized up, and he released immediately, shooting white-hot stripes that made every slight movement clear and loud with obscenely wet sounds. Steve threw his head back, eyes shut tight, just feeling. For a moment, it was only him and Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. 

He must’ve said it out loud because Eddie praised him in a voice rougher than normal, “That’s right, Stevie. Say my fucking name, baby.” 

Steve cried as the pulsing of his cock began to slow, rhythmically pushing out the last drops of come he had to offer. His body sagged into the mattress, fully exhausted; though he lifted his head to watch Eddie push up on his knees. There was a creamy white ring at the base of Steve’s cock, and he watched his own come drip and ooze from Eddie’s entrance as he gently slipped out. The sight could’ve made him hard again, if he wasn’t so damn tired.

Eddie slipped off of him, rolling and laying down beside him. Steve let his head fall sideways to see him, eyes already starting to close, but he fought off the sleepiness until after Eddie had pushed his hair back from his damp forehead and cleaned the come and lube off of his chest and softening dick with the discarded hellfire shirt. Eddie lifted his own hips, cleaning himself up as best he could, before chucking the shirt onto the floor. 

“Did that just happen?” Steve asked sleepily, looking so adorably fucked-out that Eddie could’ve spent the next hour fussing over him. 

“Mm-hmm,” Eddie smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead and then his lips. 

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Um, I like you,” Steve’s eyelids closed as he waited for Eddie’s response.

“No shit,” Eddie teased softly, without an ounce of malice in his voice. “I like you, too, Stevie. Now, c’mere,” He ushered him into his open arms, Steve’s back pressed to Eddie’s chest, “let’s talk about that when you’re not so sleepy, hmm?”

Steve nodded, and though he couldn’t see it, Eddie could feel him smiling as he let himself drift off. 

Eddie buried his nose in the boy’s hair, and let the scent of shampoo and Steve lull him to sleep.

written for @steveharringtonbingo and @eddiemunsonbingo

squares filled: C1 for Steve: "Help me." ; A3 for Eddie "topping from the bottom

title: taking good care of you

rating: explicit

word count: 4.2k

ship: steddie (steve harrington x eddie munson)

tags/warnings: smut, masturbation, penetrative sex, dirty talk, topping from the bottom!eddie, subby!steve, fluffy stuff, totally unbeta'd

summary: It's bad enough that Steve is thinking about Eddie while jacking off. He isn't expecting Eddie to walk in and offer his help.

ao3 | masterlist

tags (join or edit here):

forevers: @hintsofhoney  @deanwanddamons @katelyn--renee @lassie-bird @jensengirl83 @superfanficnatural @wayward-dreamer @that-one-gay-girl @writercole @flamencodiva @elenavampire21

stranger things: @lukearsehemmings @mooffinss @rosecentury @alexxavicry

steve harrington: @hcloangcls @dixontardis @b-e-e-04

eddie munson: @wherezavery @thatkattdraws

[reanimated-alice]

count on me | b.h. x gn!reader

a.n.: i wrote this instead of sleeping. sorry if it comes out a lot like my steve comfort fic. just needed some soft billy tonight.

warnings: fluff, mentions of blood, ab*se, bruises, crying

You knew Billy’s home life was rough. You’d seen the bruises, the black eyes. You’d heard enough from Max to make your own inferences.

You and Billy had been dating for almost eight months now. You’d been skeptical at first, having heard the rumors about him sleeping around and being a playboy. However, things were pretty great.

Whenever Billy looked at you, he visibly relaxed. The tension left his face and shoulders, his smirk became a genuine smile. Anyone could see how he felt about you.

You were pretty happy, too.

——

Late one night, you were woken up by a tapping at your window. Ever since people started disappearing in Hawkins, you’d learned how to become a light sleeper.

Quietly, you crept over to the window. You pulled the curtain aside just enough to see through.

Billy was there, tapping against your window. It was dark, so you weren’t sure, but it looked like one of his blue eyes was darker around the edges than the other. Your heart sinking, you dropped the curtain and pushed open the window.

Billy was silent as he climbed into your room. You flipped on the lamp next to your bed and what you saw made your heart sink even further, if possible.

“Billy…” you breathed. His left eye was dark, his nose had dried blood underneath it, and the neckline of his shirt had blood on it as well. His knuckles were raw and bleeding.

He must have punched something on the way here, you think.

Billy sat on your bed, still not saying anything. You didn’t ask questions, just walked to your bathroom and grabbed your first aid kit and a wet washcloth.

You gingerly began rubbing the blood off of his lip and chin. If his nose was broken, you didn’t want to cause him more pain. Then you moved onto his knuckles, wiping them off with the washcloth and then pouring hydrogen peroxide onto the open wounds. This was the first time Billy made a noise since he’d gotten here.

You wrapped bandages around his knuckles and quickly ran downstairs to get an ice pack for his eye. When you came back, you stopped in your tracks.

Billy hadn’t moved from the spot on your bed, but his shoulders were hunched and his body was shaking. It was obvious he was crying.

Oh, Billy, you thought, your heart breaking for him.

Billy really tried to keep up his carefree, tough guy routine all the time. You were one of the few people that ever gotten to see this soft, vulnerable side of him. It was one of the things that made you absolutely positive of his love for you.

You walked back in front of him, handing him the ice pack. You went over to your dresser and pulled out the clothes he had left the last time he’d stayed over. It was just a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, but it had to be more comfortable than the jeans he was wearing now.

You knelt down in front of him, placing your hands on his knees. Billy looked down at you, his big blue eyes full of tears. You wanted nothing more than to take him into your arms right then and there, but knew you wouldn’t let go of him if you did. And you wanted him to be comfortable.

“Billy,” you whispered, caressing his cheek. Billy leaned into your touch and you wiped his tears away with your thumb “Would you change your clothes for me? And then you can get into bed with me?”

“Okay,” Billy said, his voice thick with tears. He stood and grabbed the clothes, walking into your bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

During the few minutes he was in there, you were able to start an incense stick and clean up the first aid kit.

Billy emerge from the bathroom with his clothes he came in in his hands. You took those from him and set them on your desk. You took his hand and lead him to your bed.

Billy crawled into the right side, while you were on the left. Once you were both settled under the covers, he pulled your body to him and buried his face in your chest.

“You can count on me, Billy,” you whispered, beginning to run your fingers through his hair soothingly. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Billy nodded slightly, making no movement to let you go. It was okay, though. You loved him, so damn much. There was nothing you wouldn’t do for him, and you knew he felt the same.

The both of you finally were able to fall asleep, wrapped in the other’s embrace, protected from the world.

[icyharrington]

55 w/ steve

86 w/ eddie

98 w/ billy

im hopefully gonna do all 3 of these, but for now im just gonna do the eddie one becauseeeee i love it and i can practically hear his voice saying it teehee :3 this is gonna be one for my plus size ladies though obviously anyone can read it !!! 

86. “don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

contains: eddie munson x plus size reader, dirty talk, dom!eddie, insecure reader, negative self talk, foreplay 

“You are so fuckin’ hot.”

Eddie breathes his admiration against your lips, panting hungrily as you twist your tongue with his. You’re straddling him in his bed, which makes it that much easier to feel the massive protrusion growing in the front of his dark jeans; biting his lower hip teasingly, you grind your hips down against him, chuckling when he lets out a low groan.

“Lemme see you. C’mon, get up,” he urges, doe eyes practically pleading you for a show. He punctuates his request with a firm slap to your ass, causing you to jump in surprise.

It’s the third time you’re fooling around with Eddie Munson, and you can hardly believe it’s actually real, even as you go through the motions of feeling his warm skin against yours. You’d known of him vaguely throughout your time at Hawkins, and had heard (and seen) plenty of questionable things in regards to the metalhead outcast, but you likely wouldn’t have ever spoken to him under most circumstances.

He had always struck you as the type of guy who would hurl insults at girls for laughs, but he wasn’t; he was a little unhinged, sure, but after running into him at the record store one afternoon, you were startled to learn that Eddie “the freak” Munson was a genuinely nice person.

After that chance encounter, it didn’t take much at all for you to become hooked; you wound up in his bed later that evening, receiving some of the most intense orgasms of your life.

Eddie traces his fingers up your waist as you straighten out your spine, tossing your hair behind your shoulders so you can put your body on display for him. It’s almost objectifying, the way he obsesses over your soft figure, but you can’t deny that it turns you on beyond belief.

“Mhm. Yeah, take your top off for me,” Eddie murmurs, licking his lips as his eyes drink in your voluptuous frame, trailing leisurely from your stretch-marked thighs, to your curved tummy, and finally your tits, maybe his favorite part of all. They’re veiled only by your favorite band t-shirt, which you cropped yourself; the top falls to just below your chest, though when you arch your back, Eddie can see the underside of your cleavage.

You do what he says, your tits heaving with each ragged breath you take into your lungs. Eddie grins mischievously, reaching his palms to feel you up, the tips of his fingers tweaking at your hardened nipples.

“Eddie…” you sigh, and he moves to strike your ass again, squeezing firmly as he pulls you further up his body so that you’re straddling his ribcage.

You don’t put your full weight on him, fearing that you might block his airflow if you do. You usually prefer to be on the bottom, seeing that you probably aren’t as thin as the other girls he’s slept with, but Eddie is apparently unfazed by this. The first time you undressed in front of him, he’d been practically salivating at the view of your chunky legs clad in thigh-high fishnets, hips hugged lovingly in your favorite black miniskirt; even when you peeled off your top to reveal your stomach (your biggest insecurity), his interest in you only intensified.

“I wanna take pictures of you,” he says, bouncing your tits obscenely in his palms with a perverted grin. “How do you feel about being my album whore?”

“I’m sure the Corroded Coffin crowd would love to look at my fat ass every time they whip out your record to listen to,” you say sardonically, which visibly pisses Eddie off.

“The fuck did I tell you about talking like that, huh?” he snaps, gripping your hips on either side and jerking you up to his chest. “If I tell you you’re sexy, you’re sexy. Get it?”

You bite your lip at his authoritative tone, cheeks prickling. You never met a guy like Eddie before, someone so enthusiastic abut your unconventional features; all the boys you talked to in the past had seemed to treat you like a last resort, but not Eddie. Eddie makes you feel special, like you’re one of those perky cheerleaders that meander down the halls in their revealing uniforms every day, to the delight of each hormonal teen boy that they pass.

With the pressure of his eyes being fixed sternly upon you, you give in. “Fine.”

“Thaaat’s my girl.” He strokes your back affectionately, sliding down beneath you so he’s lying flatter, no longer propped up on his pillows. You shift your balance to your knees so as not to crush him as he sinks under, but he huffs, forcing you back down into a sitting position. “Where’dya think you’re going, huh? I haven’t even gotten to taste that sweet little pussy yet.”

You nearly gasp out at the crudeness of his statement, your pussy aching with need as the words leave his perfect mouth; looking down at him inquisitively, you chew at your bottom lip in thought. “You mean you want me to…“

He nods encouragingly, a wicked grin situating itself across his lips when he senses the apprehension in your demeanor. “Don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

“Eddie, you won’t be able to breathe,” you protest, but he works at the waistband of your leopard-print panties anyways, rolling them down until most of your pelvis is exposed.

“Who needs oxygen when you can have pussy?” he smiles, his eyes half-lidded and clouded over with an urgent lust. The look on his face tells you all you need to know; he doesn’t just want you, he needs you. “C’mon, baby. You know I can handle it.”

“‘Kay, but if you suffocate to death, it’s your fault,” you warn, half-joking; he scolds you for the comment, wordlessly and with the back of his ring-adorned hand, by landing a sharp smack to your jaw. It’s not enough to hurt, really, just sting, but the sensation travels straight down to your cunt all the same.

“Get your ass up here,” he orders, and you do as you’re told, bracing yourself above his head after stripping off your underwear. He gazes at you triumphantly from where he’s situated, craning his neck to shoot you a self-satisfied smirk.

“I’m going to make you cum on my tongue now, okay? And I don’t wanna hear anything else out of that mouth unless it’s to fucking beg me for it.”

With that, he yanks you down onto his waiting tongue, just as you choke out a breathless “yes, Eddie.”

[ozarkthedog]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 | Nomad!Steve Rogers

summary: You disobeyed Steve and now you must make it up to him.

warnings: SMUT. 18+ only. Nomad!Steve Rogers. Dom/Sub Relationship. Daddy Kink. “Little One” Nickname. Crying. Angst? Bondage. Degradation. Overstimulation. Forced Orgasms. Asphyxiation. Anal Play. Hitachi Belt. Spreader Bar. Aftercare.

word count: 3,057

author’s note: I started writing this last year and totally forgot about it. oops! 💙

📖 Master List

This work has Adult Content. By clicking “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content. My work is not to be copied or translated onto any other platform. 

“You didn’t do as you were told, so shut it.” Steve snarled with a harsh grip on your jaw.

He shoved himself away from you just as you began to weep. You let the tears fall freely, hating that you upset him so much.

Steve was seething as he stood in front of the fireplace, hands bracing on the mantle as his thoughts raced. Teeth clenched together in fury at the memory of finding you with your legs spread wide with fingers pumping away furiously in your cunt. He had to clear his throat twice in order for you to realize he was standing in front of you.

He was feeling savage. He wanted to teach you a lesson you’d never forget. He needed you to abide by his rules completely. You were his and he was yours. He’d never had someone he cared so much about and he intended on making this relationship work. No matter how difficult it was at times.

You stood nervously waiting for him to acknowledge you again. Fingers twisted together as you sniffed the remaining tears away. The thin white dress Steve insisted you wear at all times while home made you feel so exposed. The fabric could tear so easily just like the relationship you built with him.

But you were determined to not let that happen.

With Steve still looking away, you knelt down on the dark flooring. The wood solid beneath your trembling knees, “Daddy.” Barely a whisper but it made Steve cock his head to the side, listening.

You cleared your throat wanting to speak clearly, “Daddy. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disrespect you but sometimes I just can’t control myself.” The admission made you cast your eyes to the floor out of embarrassment. How could he love you?

Sniffling you carried on, “I will take any punishment you deem fit. I won’t talk back. I will take what you give me.” Your fingers dig into your thighs waiting with bated breath for his response.

Steve sighed watching the flames dance in the fireplace. The warmth from the flames mixed with his lust driven heat as he spied you kneeling on the floor. You looked so delicate. So easy to manipulate and dig his teeth into.

He bit his lip at the image of you writhing around in that pretty white dress he bought you. His blood began to boil.

Turning on his heel he stalks towards you, smirking as the perfect punishment comes to mind. “Little One…” Your head whips up quickly at his voice as he nears you, coming to a stop over your kneeling form.

“Follow me.” He commands and he turns towards the stairs making his way to your shared bedroom. You follow behind running slightly to keep up with his large gait. Steve holds open the bedroom door as you wait in front of him, trepidation flooding your system.

“Once you step over the threshold, I’m in control, completely. No crying, no whining, nothing will get you out of your punishment.” His stare holds yours. His authority washes over, drowning you in him.

Once again you repeat your words, “I will take what you give me, Daddy.” Your voice breaks as you call him Daddy, forever always wanting to call him that.

Steve grazes your cheek with the back of his finger lightly before letting his hand fall to your shoulder, pushing you into the bedroom. The sound of the lock clicking sparks excitement in your core as you wait at the foot of the bed for him.

Steve comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you, “Sit on the bed and watch as I set things up.”

Steve only made you watch as he set out the implements he intended using on you when he was truly mad. You watched as he disappeared into the closet before reappearing with a set of high heels.

Your brow furrowed in wonder as he set the heels down at your feet before going back to the closet. You peered down at the extravagant pumps, red in color with an extremely high, stiletto heel.

You remembered he bought them for you a while back but they were so uncomfortable you could never wear them out. Your attention was disrupted when Steve set a leather belt of sorts with an extra loop on the bed along with an Hitachi wand.

He walked over to the “play wall” and attached 2 separate wrist restraints to the rings in the wall. Your heart rate picked up as his intentions were revealed.

He means to make you suffer.

His dark eyes lingered on yours for a moment before speaking. “I’m allowing the safe word, but only, and I mean only if you truly can’t go on.” You bit your lip as he spoke out the next commands.

“Take off your dress and put those heels on.” He nods down to the red stilettos waiting to be put to use. You stood on shaky feet, slowly unbuttoning the white fabric before slipping it off your shoulders leaving you bare to him.

Steve watched as you bent over, sliding your feet into the heels before standing tall and gathering your footing. The heels easily made you 4” taller as you stood waiting for his next command.

Already your ankles were starting to hurt. The awkward angle of the heels forced all your body weight onto your toes making them scream. Steve let you stand there a few minutes, enjoying your discomfort before continuing.

“Walk over to the wall and place your hands in the cuffs.” You sneak a glance at him before slowly making your way over. The heels made you so unsteady, you raise your arms out to the sides to balance as you walk at a snail’s speed.

“If you don’t pick up the pace, I’m going to drag you over there and I won’t be nice about it.” Steve grits with annoyance watching as you jolt mid step and almost topple over. Somehow you caught yourself and made your way to the wall as fast as you could.

You turn around facing Steve as you slipped your wrists into the restraints high above your head and waited patiently. “Good Girl.” Steve smirks walking over to you and then gathers the cuffs before pulling them tight against your wrists and locking you up.

“Now the real fun can begin. Are ready?” He turns to pick up the leather belt coming back with a grimace on his face, his tone laced with displeasure at having to repeat himself, “I asked are you ready, Little One?”

You gasp a reply once you realized he wanted you to speak, “Yes, Daddy.”

Steve huffed and shook his head, “You’re going to have to start paying attention better. This won’t be good for you if you’re already starting to slip.” He bends down helping you step through the leather belt and buckles it over your waist.

He steps back and gazes over your tied-up form. He always did enjoy tying you down and making you squirm. He palms at his growing hard on before stepping up to you, caging you against the wall with his massive body causing you to let out a breathy squeal.

He tips your head to look up at him. “You want to make this up to me? Then you’re going to work for it. I’m going to make you wish you never disobeyed me, Little One.” He lets his threat hang in the air as he walks back to the bed retrieving the Hitachi.

He attaches it to the leather belt and secures it against your already slick pussy. He scoffs, “Being in this predicament turns you on? God, what a slut.”

Your cheek heat with embarrassment as he nestles the wand head flush against your throbbing mound. Grunting aloud when he forces it over your clit harshly.

As he works on making it stay in place he speaks, “You’re allowed to scream, thrash about, cry, whatever. But you’re not allowed to ask me to take you out of these binds. You’re staying like this until I say otherwise.” You nod your head in compliance even though you were scared of the outcome. Granted, you knew he would listen if you safe worded but this wasn’t about that.

Steve needed to know he could trust you, he needed to know you’d listen to his every word and abide by it. So, you swallowed down your fear and raised your head, ready for whatever he chose to do to you. “Yes, Daddy.”

Steve smoothed his hands over your hips as he stood to his full height. The way your breasts jutted out from your arms being raised over your head called out to be fondled but Steve kept his lust hidden. This wasn’t about him right now.

He leaned down and turned the wand on, clicking it until it sped up to the 3rd highest setting. Your body instantly spasmed. The strong vibrations were unyielding and forced you to feel the pleasure.

Instinctively, your legs closed together trying to keep the powerful vibrations at bay. The wand swayed in the air but never left your core. The movement causes you to see stars as it jostles against your folds.

“What do you think you’re doing? Trying to thwart your punishment already?” His tone was deadly. “Don’t worry, I have the perfect thing.”

Steve wanders away leaving you in a withering mess as you teeter in the heels. Your breathing quickens as you feel your orgasm coming on quickly. You pull at the wrist restraints frantically, “Daddy! Please! I’m close!” You call out desperately for him, not sure if he’s allowing you to cum or not.

Steve shouts his reply from deep inside the closet, “Go ahead and cum, Little One!”

He murmurs to himself as he spies what he came looking for, “It’ll the first of many.”

You cum with a wail as the vibe makes you convulse against the bondage wall. Your pussy twitches around nothing as your thighs shake trying to dislodged the horrid wand from your sensitive core.

“Here you go.” Steve says with amusement as he kneels down wrapping a cuff around your left ankle.

You look down in shock as Steve lines up the other cuff to your right ankle before strapping it to the spreader bar. “Now there’s no possible way for you to ease your punishment.” The biggest smirk is planted on his face as another wave of forced arousal courses through you sending you up another blissful peak.

“Awe, is my little Slut already feeling sensitive? That was only one orgasm. If you think I’m letting you out after 3, you’re in for a world of hurt.” His voice was cold sending you careening towards another orgasm.

Your eyes slammed shut as the tingling sensation lit up your nerves and sent you crashing down with another hard orgasm.

You tried catching your breath as the vibe forces more pleasure from you. The restraints hold your arms up so well you couldn’t even move them around all they could do was quake against the wall.

Heavy, pained mewls fill the room as you pant wildly taking every vibration as best as you can.

“Look at you. You love this.” He laughs at your pitiful attempts of trying to not cum. He palms at your tense face, pinched with determination. “Oh, it must hurt. The over stimulation must be torture.”

Distress paints your features as he degrades you further, “But that little pussy of yours got you in trouble. Such a greedy, little hole.” He enunciates the curse word with a pop to your cheek before taking your jaw back in his grip.

You gasp at the painful sensation heating the side of your face as it mingles with your swollen, sensitive mound. “Daddy! I-” Your orgasm starts up again fueled by the assaults on your body.

His fingers dig into the sides of your cheeks as you topple off the cliff with a shout. His hand keeps your face still, pushing back on the wall behind you.

“That was 3, Little One. I want to tear 7 out of that cunt tonight.” His breath hot on your neck as he forces his body over you.

Your body shakes at his command. A ragged sigh escapes you feeling worn out already from the onslaught of torture.

Steve cants his hips up and into your body, pushing the Hitachi harder against your mound. “No! Oh! Da- ” You shake your head as you feel another orgasm slithering its way through your system.

Teeth gnaw at your neck, biting up and down the crook of the soft skin. His muffled moans fill your ears as he thrusts his growing hardon into the toy, in return causing you to tumble down another peak.

The forced orgasm makes your body lock up, tight and ridged as your knees start to buckle and you sag in the restraints. Steve feels you slide down, hanging by your wrists letting the pain and torturous pleasure take over.

“Hey, now. None of that.” He grasps the hair at the base of your neck and pulls until your steady on 2 feet. “Don’t give up on me yet. You still have 3 more to go.”

You stare at him with hazy eyes. Your mind foggy and filled with nothing but determination even though your body wants to give up.

Steve swipes his thumb over your lips before he leans in for a soft kiss. The feeling of his lips as they slide over yours sends a fresh heightened wave of bliss up your spine. You moan lewdly into his mouth as he laps at your tongue.

He enjoys watching your tired body respond to the new sensations. He pulls away as you whine from the loss. “Hush.” He says, sternly with a harsh smack to your breasts causing you to spasm and scream in your bonds as another orgasm is ripped from you.

Your muscle fibers feel aflame as you come down from your 5th orgasm that night. Your head whips from side to side, unconsciously wanting to put an end to this punishment. You’re a quivering mess, tugging at your binds out of necessity.

“Stop it. You can do this. Show me you can do as I say.” Steve says with a firm voice, encouraging you. “Make it worth all the pain.”

You sniffle and close your eyes as Steve blots at some fallen tears rolling down your cheek. You open your eyes just as his lips close around his salty digits with a husky, satisfied groan.

Gnawing at your bottom lip your try to distract yourself from the overwhelming pain burning through your core and dragging you over hot coals. Steve’s hands wrap around your body, forming over the fleshy globes of your ass and grinds his straining girth against your heated body.

“If only you were good, it would’ve been my cock dragging all these orgasms from you.” His teeth clash onto your clavicle, drawing blood to the surface with a sneer, “Instead, I’m just going to have rut against you as your cunt drools all over the floor.”

His fingers slide their way between your cheeks, rubbing tenderly over your puckered rim causing your eyes to roll back, hard. Breath hitches in your throat as you propel steadily towards another raw crest.

“Maybe I should take pity on you and open this hole up. You did always cum so easily with my fingers up your ass.” He gloats, tapping the tight right of muscle in quick succession eliciting a frantic wail from your lips as you tip over the tumultuous edge.

Your head lolled forward resting against his powerful chest as exhaustion takes over. Your will power was dying and you let the tears flow. “Daddy, I can’t.”

Steve shook his head, “Not when we made it this far. You’re not giving up.”  

A calloused hand locks tightly around your neck cutting off your carotid artery. In an instant your mind spins, brain desperate for blood flow as your vision becomes blurred.

You tug uselessly at your bindings. Body shaking, ready to implode and cave in on yourself. Your ankles give way and the heels fall from your feet making Steve crush you harder into the wall.

His lips brush against your swollen ones, his beard tickling your dewy skin. “So close, you’re so close. Give me what I want. Show me you how sorry you are.”

Darkness sweeps in as your mouth opens and closes like a fish desperate for water. Your body feels light as a feather, no longer could you feel the vibrations rustling your sopping core and your sore muscles ceased their tension as you give into the murky depths.

 A warm hand cups your cheek as a deep, soothing voice tempts you back from the sleepy haze. “Wake up, Little One.”

Your eyes flutter open and you find yourself in the comfort of Steve’s arms. A wet washcloth runs between your legs making you wince. Even the softest fibers felt like sandpaper as he cleans your swollen folds. “I’m sorry but just a little more and I’ll be done.”

You curl into his chest, unsure how to feel. Had you made him happy? You couldn’t remember orgasming the final time. The last image you had was Steve wrapping his hand around your throat.

You timidly swallow, feeling slight bruises pepper your jugular. Your throat raw from crying and screaming for the last hour. Steve set the rag down with a sigh and dropped his chin to look at you.

“Did I do good?” You bottom lip trembling with hope.

Steve runs a hand over tear-stained cheek and breathes out a soft chuckle, “You did. So good you passed out as you came all over me.” Steve tilts his head towards the pile of clothes currently stained with your arousal. “Made such a mess and showed me how good you are.”

Soft lips kiss your hairline and ease the stress you’d been holding ever since he found you touching yourself without his permission.

“I’m proud of you for being so strong. You made Daddy very happy.”  

Your eyes sleepily shut and you melt into the safety of his hold knowing everything would be ok.

[bbgem329]

If Only You Were Mine… Chapter Two

Pairings—Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary

You’ve been in love with Bucky Barnes since the moment you laid eyes on him. That was five years ago, when your older sister brought him home for a Sunday lunch and introduced him as her boyfriend.

Warnings

MINORS DNI. 18+++. Angst. Lots of it. Unrequited love. Bucky kinda being douche bag.

Series Masterlist

—————

“My god, Y/N.” Sam moaned brokenly, his mouth full and cheeks stuffed. “This is so fuckin good.”

“Chew with your mouth closed, Wilson.” Natasha spat, shooting him a cold glare as she offered you her wine glass to be filled. “No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.” She spared you a quick smile. “Thanks, baby girl.”

“Of course.” You giggled, moving to refill your own glass as you shot Sam a small wink. “And thank you, Sam, I’m so glad you like my cooking.”

“Okay first of all,” Sam huffed, index finger trained accusingly on the redhead beside you. “I’ll have you know women love me. The only reason I don’t have a girlfriend is because I don’t want one.” His dark eyes shifted onto you. “Second of all, darling,” He smirked, hand rubbing his belly. “I love your cooking. And this-” He gestured to the plate before him. “-Is amazing. Ya never let me down.” He chuckled, shaking his head before peaking back up at you through his lashes, his expression serious, “Say, you looking for a husband or something? I might consider settling down if I had a wife with your cooking skills.”

You laughed loudly, a blush rising to the apples of your cheeks. This was typical Sam Wilson behavior. You swore he was the biggest flirt in New York City. Though with you it was harmless, he simply loved to get a rise out of you—see you flush and fumble over your words a bit.

“Barnes isn’t here, Wilson.” Natasha drawled, manicured nail tracing along the rim of her wine glass. “No need for your horrendous attempts at flirting tonight.” She wiggled her brows at you, a sly smirk across her painted lips. “We all know you do it just to rile him up.”

The mere mention of his name caused the weight that had temporarily lifted in the presence of your friends, to return to your chest. You inhaled sharply, eyes trained down as you pushed your food around your plate. You could feel Natasha and Wanda’s eyes burning into the side of your face but you didn’t dare look up. It would take seconds for them to see through any facade you managed to put up. You didn’t have the energy for one of their interrogations nor were you in the mood for their pity or consoling.

You just didn’t want to talk about it. Simple as that.

Sam was right.

The Honey BBQ Chicken bake topped with fritos you’d prepared was good—great even. But you weren’t sure you were hungry anymore.

The dish was one of Bucky’s favorites, a ‘comfort meal’ he’d claimed when you made it for him for the first time. It was after a pretty bad fight with Carly over Henry Pierce and how she’d acted towards him at one of your father’s fancy dinners. He’d showed up at your door, clothes soaked, eyes swollen and red, looking utterly defeated. You’d shooed him off to shower, found him something dry to wear out of the things your ex had left behind and threw his soaked clothes in the dryer. The clothes had been a snug fit but had worked for the time being. As soon as he’d plopped down on the couch, you’d wrapped him snuggly in numerous blankets, handed him a beer and a warm bowl of the chicken bake. The first bite had him singing your praise. He’d ended up scaring down three helpings of it.

That night changed the entire dynamic of your relationship. That was the night you realized Bucky needed you. He’d realized it too. You weren’t just his girlfriend's little sister anymore, you were a friend. One of the best he’d ever had. He’d told you often from that point on.

You often wondered what made him decide to come to you that night. Why did he show up at your door instead of Steve’s, Sam’s, or one of his younger sisters? It happened three years ago, yet to this day, the question remains heavy in your heart.

You thought maybe—just maybe—that if you made his favorite dish he’d show up tonight. But when Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Wanda appeared at your doorstep, no Bucky in sight, you knew he wouldn’t. And you didn’t understand why.

“Where is he tonight?” Wanda spoke up, between bites. “This is the third game night he’s missed.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat when all eyes fell to you. The ache in your chest was growing by the minute and it suddenly felt a little hard to breathe. It was fair of them to assume you’d know, you’d always had a front row seat in Bucky’s life. Even more so than Steve in the past few years.

You were his go to, everyone around this table knew that.

You knew that.

But things have changed.

Ever since the night at the diner when he’d casually, nonchalantly mentioned that there were discussions of him possibly wanting to marry Carly—as if he didn’t just drop a bomb and send your whole world up into flames—you hadn’t really spoken much.

Bucky wasn’t truly to blame for the lack of communication between the two of you.

He was busy.

He’d officially stepped up as CEO of his father’s company. He needed time to adjust, learn the ways, figure out how he’d like to run things. And from the few vague texts you’d received and did not respond to, Carly and him were ‘figuring things out’ and ‘doing good’.

You’d understood the message clear as day.

You needed to keep your distance—to stay away.

Of course he’d never outright say it or ever truly want that. He wasn’t cruel and he cared for you. But Bucky loved Carly and if Carly thought you to be a hindrance to their relationship and that it would make things better than Bucky would do as she asked. Even if it meant distancing himself from you.

You couldn’t blame him completely. You didn’t respond to any of the four messages he’d sent in the past three weeks nor had you attempted to contact him either.

Because yes, even if you were feeling angry, hurt, maybe even a little betrayed, you understood and you respected it. If it made Bucky happy—maybe eased some of the burden on his shoulders, you would do it. Even if it tore you apart from the inside out. Even if, for the past three weeks, you’d found it nearly impossible to get out of bed in the morning.

As long as Bucky was happy, you would be too.

So why the fuck did it hurt so much?

“I-” You cleared your throat, taking a quick, big gulp of your red wine. “I don’t know.”

You focused on Steve at the head of the table. Probably the safest option in the room. He’d definitely know where Bucky was and he’d most certainly know of what’s been going on. You hoped he’d see the pleading in your eyes and rescue you from what could—would be a disastrous discussion.

He leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight, arms crossed over his broad chest as he studied you. You felt small, exposed under his blue narrowed gaze.

“What’s going on with you, Y/N/N?” He asked, cocking his head to the side. “He’s been acting all mopey too, especially when I ask about you.”

Fucking Steve. The one and only fucking time you’d required his help.

“I…um.” You bit your lip, eyes trailing back to where your hands rested in your lap. You felt trapped. They wouldn’t give it a rest and if you weren’t careful they’d see right through your lies. You’d always been a terrible liar, your second nanny reminded you often. You gave a small shrug, plastering on the fakest smile you'd ever worn. “Nothings wrong. Just both been busy I guess.”

“Liar.” Natasha hissed, snatching your hand out of your lap to intertwine with hers, thumb rubbing soothing circles along the back of it. “What’s going on, babygirl? Hm? What did Barnes do?”

Natasha had always been fiercely protective of you. Your very best friend since the age of eighteen and the older sister you’d wished you’d had in place of the one you got stuck with. She'd been a junior when you were starting your freshman year at Columbia University and had taken you under your wing. She’d shown you the ropes and provided you with a real taste of freedom. You’d been thick as thieves since.

So of course she’d assume Bucky was to blame and come to your defense.

You looked up, eyes scanning each and every face around the table. All of them were filled with question and concern. “He didn’t do anything.” You sighed, slipping your hand from Nat’s to run your fingers frustratingly through your hair. “He’s figuring things out with Carly.”

A collection of scoffs sounded throughout the room with a few eye rolls and a disapproving shake of Steve’s head. They weren’t the biggest fans of your sister. You couldn’t necessarily blame them, you didn’t like her all that much either. They all did their best to support Bucky and his decision to continue to pursue a relationship with her but that didn’t stop them from openly voicing their opinion and thoughts. Everyone in this room loved and cared for him and you’d all, at some point in time, witnessed Carly’s misdeeds and the effect it had on Bucky.

“Of course he is.” Wanda mumbled with an eye roll. “And let me guess, Carly asked-.” She laughed, though it was humorless. “Sorry—told him to stay away from you. And of course, he listened.”

“I’m assuming.” You shrugged weakly, voice cracking slightly. “All I got was a few texts saying they were figuring it out. Haven’t heard from him since last Tuesday.” You really didn’t want to talk about this. Not tonight. You didn’t feel like moping and crying. You just wanted to enjoy your friends and forget all about Bucky and his possible marriage to your sister.

“Well, according to Carly’s social media.” Natasha spoke up from beside you, you glanced over to find her scrolling through her phone. “They’re at some new, high end club opening.” She switched it off, sliding it back up on the table. “On a Wednesday night?” She scrunched her nose in distaste, “Who the hell opens a club on a Wednesday night?”

“That’s besides the point, babe.” Steve sighed, scrubbing his hands down his face. He met your gaze, blue eyes full of worry and sympathy. His shoulders were slumped in defeat and expression pained. “I don’t understand.”

You knew it hurt him to watch his best friend remain trapped in such an unhealthy relationship. Steve was Bucky’s first and best friend, his right hand man, and the brother he never had. They had gone through everything together. When Steve’s parents died at the age of eight, Bucky’s family had taken him in as their own. They’d been through everything together.

“Hey, man.” Sam piped up, face solemn as he patted Stave’s back, “We’ve all tried to tell him. He knows what he is doing, he’ll figure it out on his own.” He straightened up, shaking his head before taking a swig of his beer. “Honestly, I think he’s being pressured by both his father and yours, Y/N. You know they’ve wanted to unite the companies for years. What better way to do that than marry their kids?”

“Y/F/N has another daughter.” Natasha scowled, rolling her eyes. “Something he often seems to forget about.” She threw her hand frustratingly in the air, gesturing wildly with wide eyes. “Everyone knows Bucky and Y/N would be a much better match. It makes no sense.”

“Can we just not talk about this?” You interjected, voice louder than you intended. You sunk back in your chair, hands covering your face when all eyes snapped to you and the room fell eerily silent, all of them shocked by your sudden outburst.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, cheeks shaded pink. “I just don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay? I want to enjoy tonight with all of you.” You took a deep breath, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I don’t want to talk about Bucky. I don’t want to think about it anymore.” You paused, biting down on your lip, “It sucks and it hurts but there is nothing I can do about it. I’m tired of moping and being sad. So please, just tonight can we leave it be?”

There was a chorus of ‘yes’ and ‘of course’ and ‘I’m sorry’s. You exhaled softly, the weight lifting temporarily from your chest and heart. You might worry tomorrow—feel the pain and loneliness of Bucky’s absence once again. But not tonight. Tonight you were in great company, eating good food, and drinking the best red wine.

—————

It was just after midnight when everyone collectively decided to call it a night. The game night had turned out to be the perfect distraction. After multiple heated rounds of monopoly and a round of life to ease Sam and Natasha's not so friendly rivalry, everyone began to feel the effects of a long day.

Fortunately, you didn’t have to work tomorrow, unlike the others, so you declined their offers to help clean up. You needed the time to unwind anyways and never really minded doing the dishes.

You began washing the dishes, hands deep in the soapy water and mind a million miles away. You’d always found it therapeutic. It wasn’t something you were allowed to do as child, your parents thought a woman of your status should never ever be expected to do such mundane, dirty tasks. Any and all cleaning was done by the maids. You remember how you’d sit on the steps of the grand staircase as a young girl and watch the staff bustle about each day. That was the only reason you knew how to clean. You had spent hours wandering after them, studying how they washed the dishes, cleaned the windows, vacuumed and swept.

You laughed softly to yourself as you propped a plate up in the drying rack. If only they saw you now.

They weren’t at all happy when you decided to move out of the Manor. You weren’t sure why as they ignored your presence entirely anyways. It had ended in a pretty nasty argument with both your father and your mother, which funny enough, was the most they’d spoken to you in your twenty three years of life. You’d expected them to cut you off right then and there—take back the inheritance you’d received on your eighteenth birthday but instead they’d offered you a deal.

You could have your apartment but in exchange you couldn’t take up a job.

It made no sense, you’d gone to college and studied the art of business as your father had asked, yet he expected you not to use the degree you’d worked so hard to obtain and he’d paid handsomely for.

You hadn’t even bothered to question or argue over it. Just like your mother and sister, he’d raised you to be the perfect wife to a businessman. He saw you as nothing more than some rich perverts arm candy and baby maker and he always would.

You were surprised he hadn’t tried to marry you off yet. The other women your age were married, engaged, or at the very least courting. Yet he hadn’t said a word or dropped even a hint.

Not that you minded, that was something you’d fight tooth and nail over. You weren’t something to be sold off or exchanged for some business deal.

If you were to ever marry, you’d marry for love.

And although your father ordered you not to work a day job, he never said anything about picking up gigs here and there. Fortunately for you, you’d always had a love for photography and had taken a few elective courses on the art at the university.

You didn’t take pictures for the money, it was simply something to pass the time. The gigs you scored consisted mostly of weddings, animals, birth photography, and family pictures. Each and every shoot you did was unique and fun in its own way. You’d witnessed a lot of very special, life changing moments and had met a lot of very different people in your work.

More recently, within the past year, you’d started your own blog and it had grown fairly popular. The photographs posted there were more personal—a picture of your old nanny and tutor, Rosalind and her husband dancing when you’d had dinner last week, a sunset you’d watched on a walk along the Brooklyn bridge two days ago, or a tree with changing leaves you’d spotted on your run just this morning.

You had nothing to gain from it nor nothing to lose. It was a hobby—something you loved to do. If you could spread a little positive by capturing and posting something beautiful you would.

You sighed softly, towel drying the last pan and before putting it away. You had a wedding to attend on Saturday so you needed to find something to occupy and distract you for the next few days.

Tomorrow afternoon you could spend a couple hours at the soup kitchen up the road and maybe stop by the hospital to read and visit with a few sick children that reside there long term.

That always seemed to brighten your day. It felt good to give without expecting something in return. You’d spent so much of your life surrounded by takers.

The first time Rosalind had brought you along with her to the soup kitchen, you were hooked. It was an eye opening experience, especially at the age of twelve. It was extremely humbling to see someone so happy and grateful for something as simple as soup. Your favorite part, however, was when you took the time to sit and chat with them, to listen to their heartfelt stories.

You made sure to do things like this a few times a week and donated frequently and abundantly to whatever charity you found needed it the most that week.

Your parents would most certainly disapprove of the hours and money you spent on such things but you didn’t care. All your donation and volunteer work set you apart from them.

You didn’t lie, cheat, steal, and deceive in the way that your family did. You weren’t selfish, conniving, and devious just as they were.

Despite your name and the blood that ran through your veins, you were different.

You were good.

You shook yourself from your thoughts, flicking the lights in the kitchen off before moving to blow out the candles in the living room and straighten the couch cushions until a knock sounded at the door.

Your froze, heart speeding up in your chest and hope blooming rapidly in your belly. Because no one ever showed up at your doorstep this late. No one besides one person in particular.

You took a deep breath, steps slow and quiet as you made your way to the door. You know you shouldn’t open it. Bucky had pushed you away, chosen your sister over you as he always does. That alone should be enough of an indication that he doesn’t care for you as much as you care for him. You should be angry in a way that makes you never want to hear from him, see him, or speak to him again because of how he’s treated you in the last three weeks. Because it was wrong for him to turn up here at nearly one in the morning when he’s supposed to be home and in bed with his girlfriend—or maybe she was his fiancé now, you were thrown so out of the loop you had no idea what might’ve occurred in his time away.

But you were weak. You cared more about him than you did yourself. So for what seemed like the hundredth time, you flicked the lock and yanked open the door.

And sure enough, there he stood in all his saddened and slumped glory.

Your heart clenched at the sight of him—dress shirt and pants wrinkled and suit jacket resting in the crook of his arm. His locks were tousled, curling and standing in every which way. The skin around his eyes was swollen and red from lack of sleep and the tears he’d probably shed. His usually bright blue hues appeared sad and empty, cheeks were rosy, lips chapped and bitten.

The strong and powerful man you’d known and come to love had vanished, only to be replaced by one who looked beyond broken and defeated.

There was absolutely no way you could turn him away now. Not when he looked like this.

“Hey.” Bucky croaked out, eyes downcast as he shifted awkwardly on his feet. “I’m sorry for showing up here so late. I just-” He swallowed thickly, tears welling up in his bloodshot eyes. “I just needed to see you.”

You sighed quietly, hardened exterior softening. You said nothing but opened the door further, gesturing him in. He smiled slightly, stepping hesitantly through the threshold. “Thank you.” He mumbled, following you as you made your way to the kitchen.

Bucky slipped into a seat on the island, watching you as you moved about the kitchen pouring water in the kettle and setting two mugs out. He didn’t even have to ask, you already knew what he needed. Always did.

“I’m really sorry that we haven’t talked in the past few weeks.” He spoke up, voice timid and weak. You offered him a small nod, not lifting your eyes from your work. You just couldn’t look at him right now, not in the eye anyways. If you did, you ran the risk of losing your anger and you wouldn’t stand your ground. He needed to know you were hurt by his decision.

“It wasn’t right. I don’t know why I let Carly convince me you were hindering our relationship.” His voice cracked slightly, he tossed his head back struggling to maintain his composure and blinking back tears. “You’re not.” He inhaled sharply, wiping furiously at his cheeks, “You’re not a hindrance, Y/N. You're not the problem.”

You leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over your chest, studying him with a frown. This wasn’t how it normally went. He usually never wanted to talk about it or explain things but then again he’d never gone three weeks without speaking to you.

You swallowed your pride, unease settling in your naval. “What’s going on?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, you wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t even heard you.

“I think I’m stuck, sweets.” He laughed mirthlessly, tears escaping down his cheeks. “She doesn’t love me. She doesn’t even fucking like me.” He wiped the tears from his cheeks, though his efforts were futile because more continued to spill. “I’ve been so blinded and now I’m stuck.”

“Bucky.” You whispered, rushing towards him. Your heart broke in half as he collapsed against your chest and let out a broken sob. Though you struggled under half his weight, you rocked him soothingly side to side and ran your fingers through his hair as pressed his face in the crook of your neck, his body shaking and trembling as he cried.

You spoke softly, whispering words of consolation and comfort because in this state there was no way you could talk him down or through it. He needed a shoulder to cry on—he needed your shoulder to cry on.

You weren’t at all sure what he meant by what he said and he was in no shape to better explain it. No doubt Carly had fucked up yet again and by the looks of it she’d done extensive damage.

You had never in the five years of their relationship seen him like this. He was inconsolable—a complete mess.

And part of you worried that the damage just might be permanent this time.

You let him cry until his sobs turned to sniffles and he lay limp against your chest before pulling him up off the stool and leading his stumbling form down the hall and to the guest bedroom. You drew back the covers and he didn’t protest as you guided him into bed.

“We can talk in the morning, Buck.” You mumbled, pulling the comforter up over him and tucking it snugly around his large body. “You need rest.” You sat beside him on the edge of the best, brushing his hair out of his face.

“You’re so good to me, sweets.” His eyes fluttered closed as he leaned into your touch, placing a little kiss against the inside of your wrist when your hand settled on his cheek. “Too good to me. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t lose me.” You assured him, voice steady and smile soft. “You’re stuck with me. Even if you get sick of me.”

“I could never.” He whispered, the hint of a smile on his bitten lips as his body sank back into the mattress. Relaxing completely under your touch and soothed by your presence. “Will you stay with me?”

You hummed softly, fingers combing gently through his thick locks. “Until you fall asleep.”

“Please, sweets.” He croaked, eyes snapping open to meet yours, baby blues filled with desperation and pleading. “Please, stay with me.”

You signed, twirling a curl around your fingers as you pondered his request. You really shouldn’t. This was a boundary in your relationship you’d never breached and even if he didn’t see you in a romantic way, you saw him as such. It may not matter to him but it mattered to you and you didn’t want to risk adding anymore hurt to your heart.

But you could never deny him, especially when he was looking at you like that—as if you were the only thing he ever needed, the most important person in the world.

If lying with him brought him some semblance of comfort or relief, you would do it. Even if it hurts like hell in the morning.

“Okay, Buck. I’ll lay with you. Just give me a minute to change, turn the lights off, and lock up.” You returned his small smile before scurrying off.

It took less than five minutes for you to return fresh faced and dressed in an oversized crewneck and a pair of sleep shorts.

You were a little surprised to find him awake and waiting for you. Nothing was said as he drew back the covers, allowing you to slip in beside him after flicking off the lights.

You inhaled sharply when his hand found yours, intertwining your fingers with his in the space between your bodies. His hand was warm and soft clasped with your own and you couldn’t help but melt at the simple touch.

You yearned for more but kept your distance, instead rolling on your side to face him and burrowing further beneath the covers.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He mumbled, voice heavy and thick with sleep, eyes fluttered closed as his thumb brushed along the back of your palm.

“Goodnight, Buck.” You replied, offering him one more soft smile. “Sweet dreams.”

You waited until his thumb ceased it’s ministrations and his breathing evened out before you allowed yourself to relax and sleep to overcome you.

—————

Tag list

@scxrletrecsmarvel @cjand10 @sarahrstephan @ladifreakingda @vicmc624

@hazeljean2 @capmanranger

[magniloquent-raven]

(pt1 here)

billy grew up afraid of finding his soulmate.

when he was eight his father caught him trying to wash nail polish off with soap and a hand towel.

he’d heard girls at school saying it was what you did when your soulmate was a boy. you were supposed to paint yourself up all pretty and find the person who matched. and it was easy enough to sneak into the vanity and steal a bottle of his mother’s nail polish. but once the paint dried he realized it would be impossible to hide from his father, and he panicked.

his mother showed him the bottle of nail polish remover after neil left. dabbed some on a cotton ball to rub at the thick layer of paint. she was silent, kneeling on the floor in front of him cradling his sprained wrist while he sat on the edge of the tub and cried.

they both had questions, but neither of them got answers.

it took billy months to work up the courage to try again.

he wasn’t sure why he was bothering, at first. he knew he couldn’t look for his soulmate the traditional way. and he was constantly terrified that his father would find the supplies he’d started hoarding. it seemed like more risk than reward, and yet. he couldn’t stop himself.

every time he was allowed to wander off in a store alone he’d slip something into his pocket. a tube of lip gloss. a compact full of shiny powders. he wasn’t even sure what some of it was, he just liked the colours. liked the pictures they hung alongside the displays. he wanted to look like that. beautiful.

and in his heart of hearts, he wanted the boy who was out there waiting for him to know he existed. whether they’d be able to find each other or not.

he’s more careful with this than he was with the nail polish. his father works saturday nights, and his mother always visits their neighbour while he’s at work. despite having the house to himself he locks his bedroom door.

the first thing he tries is the watermelon lip gloss. it’s sticky, and the wand doesn’t fit in his hand comfortably, but once he’s smeared it on he feels...good. he likes the way it catches the light. likes the way it smells. he looks at himself in the mirror and likes seeing something different.

the high doesn’t last long, it inevitably gives way to paranoia, anxiety that has him glancing at the locked door every thirty seconds, heart pounding, wondering if just maybe his father will get home from work early, and he jumps at every sound, hearing boots thudding on the porch and car doors slamming and anything that could be neil coming through the door.

cleaning himself up is hard. panic makes his hands shake, his eyes well up. he drops everything on the floor when he tries to tuck the bag away. and he has to spend twenty minutes with his back to his bedroom door getting his breathing under control when he’s finished.

but he does it again the following saturday. and the one after that.

for five months he does this. locks himself away with his stolen treasures and lets himself live a little. it gets easier as time goes on. and his mind wanders sometimes. to a future where he gets to share this with someone. the boy out there who’s supposed to love him one day.

it’s a small bubble of a dream. one he doesn’t spend too much time dwelling on. not when there’s neil’s voice in his head, telling him that no one could love a fucking freak, ‘cause fags don’t get real soulmates anyways.

he wants and he wishes, but the more he thinks about it the more he doubts. he’s never gotten a mark from his soulmate, and even if he did some day, what if his father’s right, and his “soulmate” doesn’t want him or makes him miserable or...worse.

so he does his makeup for himself.

until, like all good things in his life, his father ruins it.

he never found out what set neil off initially, something going wrong at work maybe, or the martial strife of the week getting to him. whatever it was that started it, neil eventually decided billy should bear the brunt of the fallout.

so he went through his things. said billy’d been acting cagey lately, and he was going to find out why.

and then found the makeup bag stuffed into an old sweater in his closet.

it was ugly. the things neil said that day would play on repeat in billy’s head for years afterwards. the scars his belt left on billy’s back were nothing in comparison.

the next saturday came and went. billy spent the evening curled up under a blanket not bothering to wipe away the tears dripping down his face.

by morning he’s resolved to forget the whole thing. to put it behind him. because it was stupid, and risky and childish and maybe his father was right. he’s almost convinced himself. and then he notices ink on his arm, as he reaches up to rub his eyes. messy scrawl, i bet you looked pretty crookedly written up his forearm.

he didn’t think he was able to cry any more, but he manages it.

for the first time his soulmate isn’t just a concept, or a what-if, he’s...a person. he’s a real person out there somewhere. someone who doesn’t even know billy and still wanted to reach out, to offer comfort. it’s more than he’s gotten from anyone else. even his mother. who he knows loves him, and she does her best to protect him, but when she found out about his makeup stash she just looked sad, and she’s said nothing to him about it.

but his soulmate…

can never, ever meet neil.

the thought hits him right in the chest.

whoever he is, he cares, he’s good. and neil breaks good things.

billy falls asleep that night tracing the empty space where his soulmate’s message used to be, wrapped up in worries and dreams, and terrified for someone he’s never met.

the doodles that come and go over the years are terrifying and exhilarating and billy manages to hide every single one from his father. they only ever show up during the day, and they don’t linger. something billy is both grateful for and resentful of.

sometimes he’ll watch other boys’ hands in class. check them for drawings. he thinks he’s being careful, but a girl in his chem class, becca, catches him. she says it’s only because she knew what to look for. they share a cigarette under the bleachers and she tells him about a girl who likes green eyeshadow and writes homework reminders on her wrists using stars instead of bullet points.

it takes billy six months and a couple shots of tequila to tell her about watermelon lip gloss and bet you’re pretty and they both cry when he starts to wonder if his soulmate will be disappointed that he isn’t a girl.

on a rainy april afternoon she asks him to go to a gay bar with her. he tells his father he’s going on a date. she tells her’s that she had to reschedule a tutoring session and it’ll run pretty late.

they wait til it’s dark and get ready in a dingy gas station bathroom. when she’s smearing on her eyeliner she catches sight of his face in the cloudy mirror. he wasn’t going to ask her for anything. he wouldn’t have brought it up. the twinge in his heart and a hollow feeling of longing aren’t anything new, he can deal.

he feels and empty kind of rage every time old, well-meaning relatives give max girly lip gloss kits and eyeshadow pallets and shit normal preteen girls who care about finding their soulmates actually appreciate. she always rolls her eyes and throws them away. susan will fish them out of the trash sometimes, and leave them under the bathroom sink, like if max just sees them there she’ll suddenly give a shit and start using them. like them being there does anything but taunt billy with what he can’t have.

neil watches him like a fucking hawk every time that shit comes into the house. and max doesn’t fucking care. doesn’t notice.

but becca offers.

and.

he’s not about to say no.

he should’ve said no.

it feels good at first, like it used to, it feels like freedom and he likes what he sees when he looks in the mirror, and he kisses a boy for the first time and it isn’t fireworks but it’s something, and he thinks maybe it’s going to be a good night, but then…

neil is waiting on the curb outside becca’s house. they were heading there first, because her parents wouldn’t notice, she said it would be fine, she has makeup remover he can use, he can clean up and head home and everything was supposed to be okay, except. it wasn’t.

it’s the last time he sees becca. neil tells her parents what was actually going on, and she isn’t allowed to visit him in the hospital.

and then six months of rehab, one rushed wedding and a big ugly sold sign later, neil carts them off to hawkins, indi-fucking-ana. as a “family.”

billy was certain this town would be nothing but a prison. it’d be somewhere he’d never find a place to be himself, neil would make sure of that. there wasn’t a single thing to like about this place and its bullshit small town sensibilities. for all the open space it might as well have been stone walls and steel bars.

except.

except...here was a boy with soft eyes and nimble fingers, who gets a little wrinkle between his brows when he concentrates, and is always moving, fidgeting, fiddling with zippers and touching his elbows and looking at him makes billy itch. to touch, to soothe, to take, and…

things get complicated when aimless blue waves scrawl up billy’s arm. when steve follows him out into the parking lot. calls him pretty to his face. and suddenly billy’s eight years old and realizing this shit is real. terrified of what that could mean. spinning fragile dreams like spider’s silk, hard to shake but easy to destroy.

even entertaining the idea of putting on makeup while he’s still in hawkins is stupid and dangerous, but goddamn if he hasn’t risked more for less.

he’s sure he’ll regret it. like he’s regretted every other desperate bid for freedom. but when faced with steve harrington’s smile, he can’t find it in himself to say no.

(edit: pt3 here)

[unwrittenlibrary]

be still my foolish heart (don’t ruin this on me)

Summary: bucky barnes doesn’t have very many people left in his life who care, but he has you... or; five times you and bucky show your love & the one time you finally say it. (bucky x fem!reader)

Words: 4.3K

Warnings: fluff & pining. no major spoilers of tfatws. 

Notes: hi! i was going to try and maintain separate accounts to keep my writing organized, but i am lazy and can’t switch back and forth all the time. so! here’s to me now being a multific blog! i hope this does not upset my current followers (and maybe brings some new ones in) this was originally posted my ao3 . happy reading! 

I.

You’re the only person who calls him James. It fluctuates between Buck and James, but either way, you’re the only person allowed to call him either.

He thinks his name just sounds so pretty coming from your mouth. He doesn’t want to hear anything else. Doesn’t really want you to call him Bucky because then it won’t sound right when anybody else does.

So you’re the only person that calls him James. The only person he lets call him James.

“James.” You say softly as he falls onto your couch. He’s got a black eye and a busted lip and he knows there’s nothing he can say to quell your worry. So he settles with a smile that causes a wince that makes you let out a breathless laugh. “I told you to be more careful.”

You sit on your coffee table across from him and lean forward with the washcloth in your hand. His eyes fall to his lap and he nods. “You should see the other guy.”

You shake your head tensely as you gently wipe at the dried blood carefully to avoid the bruise still forming. “James. I’m serious. You’re not invincible.” He raises an eyebrow and you sigh. “You may be a super soldier, but you can still get hurt. I hate seeing you hurt.”

You lean back and drop the cloth onto the table next to you. “I know, doll.” You shake your head at the nickname and he smiles. You had told him you thought it was corny, but as long as you called him James, he would call you doll.

And he knew you secretly liked the nickname.

The same way you knew he secretly liked to hear his name when you said it.

“I have some vaseline in the bathroom. We can put it on your lip and then you need to get some sleep.” You pull him by his hand down your hall.

He glances out the window of your bedroom before you pull him into the bathroom. “I don’t need to sleep, the sun is still out.” He says quietly as you search through your cabinet.

You look up sharply. “You need sleep. I’ll be right here, okay?” You stand up straight and lift some vaseline with a q-tip. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” Your eyes focus in as you gently apply the vaseline to Bucky’s lip.

He has to force himself not to smile. The cut will be gone by tomorrow and this will have been all for naught as it won’t affect how it heals. He appreciates the comfort it gives him. He relishes in the warmth that came with your care and love for your friends.

You step away with a proud smile. “I think I’m supposed to do the protecting, doll.” He says quietly. He desperately wants to reach his hands out and settle them on your waist.

Feel the warmth through your worn out sweatshirt and pull you close. But he doesn’t, afraid of something but unsure of what exactly, so he smiles graciously.

“We protect each other, James. In different ways.” You say just as quietly.

It’s all Bucky needs to get a couple comfortable hours of sleep in your room.

II.

He calls you every night. Or at least he tries to when he’s not in DC. Sometimes they’re so busy he doesn’t get the chance.

Tonight was one of those nights. He stares desperately down at his phone, urging the time to change so it was earlier in the night. He couldn’t call now. Not in the middle of the night when he knew you were asleep.

“You gonna go to bed?” Sam asks quietly from his spot in the living room. He’s been sitting silently with Bucky since they returned to the hotel, but Bucky could tell he was exhausted.

Bucky nods. “I’ll sleep out here.” He says quietly and unwilling to claim a bed. He couldn’t sleep in one for a full night, he could barely nap in yours when you forced him to rest.

Sam frowns and they both know he understands Bucky’s fear of the too big and too soft bed sitting empty in the other room. But the man nods before disappearing into his room and shutting the door behind him.

Bucky rests his head against the back of the couch and begins to take deep breaths. His phone vibrates in his hand and his eyes widen when he sees your name flash across the screen.

He doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Doll? What’s got you up so late?”

You laugh quietly. “Just knew you needed me.” You say after a moment of silence. “We’ve got that telepathy. I know things.”

Bucky laughs softly. “Yeah? You just knew?” He finds himself believing your words, even though he knows the more likely scenario is that you couldn’t sleep either.

You sigh into the phone and Bucky shuts his eyes again. “Sam texted me, but I was already awake. I switched shifts with the night nurse today, so I’ll be awake all night.”

“You know you don’t have to call when you’re at work.” Bucky says quietly. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

You laugh. “I have a few minutes to myself while the other nurse mans the station. Most of the kids are asleep, so I can spare some time for you. Especially when you need me.”

Bucky nods for a second before realizing you wouldn’t be able to see it. “Thank you.”

“What’s wrong, James?” You ask in a whisper. He listens for a moment as you take a sip of something, probably your water, before deciding to answer.

“This is longer than I thought I’d be gone…” He trails off. Him and Sam were originally only supposed to be in New York for a few days, a week tops, but this mission had dragged on and it had already been almost two weeks. “I…” He trails off.

He missed home. Something he’d never thought he’d think of DC as. Brooklyn had been his home and he was only a bridge away. Brooklyn had been his home. Steve. Wakanda for a short period of time.

But Steve was gone. And he was no longer recovering under the Wakandans graceful care. Brooklyn was a distant memory and DC… Well DC had you. And at some point you had become home for him.

“I know.” You say quietly, like you understand his silence. You do, he supposes. You understand almost every part of him. You understand that he missed you and home , but that he still struggles to admit his feelings. “I miss you too, James.”

He doesn’t say anything in response, but he doesn’t really have a chance to. He hears a siren in the background then you rush out, “Shit. I have to go!” Then all that’s there is a dial tone. Bucky smiles though. You’re off to be a different kind of hero.

He sits in silence and lets your words wash over him. It was new having all these people who cared about him. Decades all alone and treated as a weapon made learning to let people in again a new kind of difficult.

But it didn’t feel as hard with you there to help, he thinks

III.

He has to force himself to keep his eyes open. His nightmares had been particularly awful this week, and now he was sitting beside your heavily asleep body.

He was stuck staring at the repeating trailer on the netflix screen. Logically, he knows he could close his eyes and rest his head against yours on his shoulder.

But he was terrified a nightmare would take over and he would wake you up with a jolt, or worse hurt you if it was particularly awful.  

So, he forces himself to stay awake and watches the movie trailer again. He thinks you would like the movie.

“Buck.” You mutter tiredly. His eyes snap to you and he finds your eyes open and staring up at him. “Aren’t you tired?”

He shakes his head gently, careful to not move you. You narrow your eyes and slowly sit up. “Come on, let’s go to bed. You can stay here tonight.”

Bucky hesitates as you stand. He watches as you stretch your entire body and has to force his eyes to his lap when your shirt rides up and your stomach shows.

He had never spent the night at your place. He had spent all day. Even napped at your place often when he came over in the afternoon and you forced him to rest.

He always left before you went to sleep though. So he could suffer through his dreams on his own. So he didn’t drag you down.

You look down at him with soft eyes. “Grab some water. I’ll be in my room, okay?”

“I can go home. I don’t want to intrude.” He answers. Bucky looks out your window and sees just how dark and dead the streets outside were. It wasn’t like he had anything to worry about walking home.

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish. “It’s late and you’re tired, I don’t want you getting hurt. Stay here.” The words are quiet but hold a fierceness that Bucky knows not to argue against.

He nods. “I’m gonna grab some water then.” The nerves coiling around his stomach is almost worth it when your face lights up and you nod excitedly.

The two of you split up in the hall. You moving towards your bedroom and him into the kitchen. After pouring a glass of water, he stands still for a moment and just studies the room.

Your counter is crowded. Different appliances pushed against the wall, ready to be pulled out and plugged in whenever you wanted. A utensil holder stuffed to the brim with spoons and spatulas that seemed to keep appearing. Mail piling up on the counter. A scrub top draped over the back of one of your barstools.

Your kitchen was crowded, but lived in and so very you that Bucky loved it. He loved you, he thinks almost hesitantly.

He pushes the thought to the back of his mind when you call his name out. He knew he cared about you deeply and he loved you as a friend but this feeling in his chest and the speed of his heartbeat makes him think maybe he’s started to feel more. Or maybe he always has.

He doesn’t want to ruin this though. So he pushes the thought away and makes his way towards your room. “I can sleep on the…” His words die on his tongue when he sees the small set up of blankets and pillows beside your bed.

You’re watching him nervously as you try to gauge his reaction. Bucky is stuck standing in stunned silence as he looks it over.

You’ve pulled out a thin duvet and placed it on the ground with extra pillows and blankets for him to lay on. “I remember Sam mentioning soldiers have a tough time sleeping through the night in a bed. Obviously you can sleep in the bed if you want but I just figured that…” You trail off and gesture towards the makeshift bed with a small flourish.

“This is…” He trails off. The warmth in his chest grows with each passing second and his heart races. “Thank you. This is perfect.”

A smile spreads across your face. “Good. Good. I was… I’m glad. And I’m right here if you need me. To protect you.” You say with a teasing glance as you crawl into the bed.

You lay on the side closest to where you’ve set up the floor for him. He laughs softly before moving towards his own space.

He’s still nervous to sleep in the same room. Still feels a little self conscious as he lays his head on the pillow and pulls the light blanket over him. But you don’t seem to really mind his presence as you make yourself comfortable above him.

He takes a deep breath. He definitely loved you.

And things like this gave him hope that you did, or maybe could, love him too.

Later that night he jolts awake with heavy breaths and you look down at him with worried eyes. He shakes his head when you open your mouth not wanting to talk about the dream.

It’s the same thing every time. People that he hurt who didn’t deserve it. The pain of his memories being erased. And he doesn’t want to weigh you down with his trauma anymore than he already has.

You watch him for a moment before nodding silently. Bucky thinks that’s the end of it but he’s shocked when your hand falls off the side of the bed palm open.

He glances up at you and you smile gently but say nothing. He reaches his right hand up and interlocks his fingers with yours.

It’s a little awkward and his arm tenses after a few minutes but it’s far too comforting for him to want to let go. Your hand tightens in his and Bucky finds it easier to fall asleep his hand intertwined with yours.

IV.

Bucky felt awkward in the hospital. He felt too hard and intimidating to be standing in the center of the pediatric ward waiting for you in your teddy bear scrub top and white bottoms.

“Excuse me?” He glances down when he feels a tug on his hand. There’s a young boy standing in front of him with wide eyes. “You’re friends with Captain America?”

Bucky hesitates for a moment before answering. “Yes.” He settles on saying as gently as he can.

He glances around in search of you. He had texted you when he arrived at the hospital and you had responded with a thumbs up, but he was assuming you had gotten busy in the time in between.

The boy squeals excitedly. “Is he here too? Can I meet him?”

Bucky shakes his head softly and kneels to be at eye level with the boy. “He’s home with his family.” When his eyes begin to water and his lip pouts, Bucky begins to panic. “But! I’m sure he’d love to visit soon! I can bring him! What’s your name?”

“Riley!” He looks up at the sound of your voice. A large smile spreads across your face at the sight of Bucky kneeling before the kid.  You say something to the nurse beside you before rushing down the hall towards them.

“Riley.” You place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “What are you doing out of bed? You’re supposed to be in bed.” You look down with imploring eyes and the young boy looks away with an embarrassed smile.

“But! It’s Bucky! He’s Captain America’s sidekick.” Bucky’s mouth falls open in shock at the boy's statement.

“Sidekick?” Bucky asks in an offended tone. “Well-“ He cuts himself off when you look at him with exasperated eyes.

“And he said he would bring Captain America in! To meet me!” The boy's excitement obviously leaves him ignorant of Bucky's offense at being called a sidekick.

“And I’m sure he will. But right now you should be in bed.” You say sternly. The boy nods dejectedly and allows you to lead him back into his room.

When you come back out a large smile spreads across your face at the sight of Bucky standing and wiping his hand against his pants.

He can’t help but reciprocate the same large smile. He drops the bag in his hand on the counter beside him and opens his arms as you slam into him with your arms around his waist.

“Thank you so much! I thought my night was ruined!” You pull away but don’t let go as you smile up at him. “We can eat in the cafeteria.”

You grab the bag before he gets the chance to. You turn to the nurse that was sitting and going through charts next to you and with a big grin say, “Page me if you need me, I’ll be in the cafeteria!”

The woman nods with a soft laugh before looking down at the computer. You take Bucky’s hand in yours and begin to pull him towards the elevator.

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. I know hospitals aren’t your thing.” You say quietly as the two of you step in. You lean away and press the two button.

Bucky thinks for a moment that you’re going to let go of his hand now that you’re not leading him anywhere but you don’t. Bucky smiles at the thought of this becoming a normal occurrence.

Your hand just felt right in his.

“Anything for you, doll.” He says quietly. He glances at you quickly before looking back at the descending numbers. “You’re my best girl.”

You nudge him with your shoulder as you laugh quietly. “That sounds like a line right out of the forties.”

Heat rises to Bucky’s cheeks but he laughs along. “You can take the man out of the forties but you can't take the forties out of the man.”

The two of you look at each other before you both burst out laughing. When the elevator stops on your designated floor you pull him out with you.

“As long as I get to be on the end of all that forties charm, I don’t mind a bit.” You lean into his side and smile brightly.

Bucky looks away as his cheeks turn an even brighter red. You giggle quietly when he looks back down at you. “Yeah. It’s always you at the end of it.”

The two of you look at each other for a moment before you pull him into a crowded cafeteria. “Let’s eat before I’m paged back to my floor.”

V.

Bucky had grown more comfortable around you the longer you knew each other, but he still struggled to be fully comfortable with his arm.

It was a different arm, Steve had said once what felt like forever ago. He had rationalized with Bucky. His other arm had been attached to him and forced on him as a weapon. This arm had been made for him with peace in mind. It was untarnished. Mostly.

But a different arm didn’t change much for him. He had still caused so much pain with it. Was it really that different at all? His arm had always and will always be looked at as a weapon.

So he still wore long sleeves and a glove most of the time. Rarely let you see his biggest shame. You usually didn’t push. Sat on his right side. Held his right hand. You rarely said anything about it, it was almost like it didn't exist.

But, curiosity won out sometimes.

“Why won’t you let me see your arm?” You ask quietly one night. He’s sitting on one of your bar stools as you mix a pasta sauce in front of him.

It had been silent most of the night. You insisted on cooking your famous (at least that’s what you called it) pasta dish after not seeing him for a few days as a welcome home.  

Bucky looks up at you with shocked eyes. You had never mentioned wanting to see his arm. He had assumed you didn’t want to.

“I… I don’t know.” He says quietly. He taps his fingers, his flesh fingers, against the counter top nervously. You watch him with hopeful eyes waiting for a real answer to the question. “I guess it’s easy to pretend it’s not there when someone’s never really seen it.”

“Hm.” You mumble in response. You step away from the stovetop and move towards him. “Why would you want to pretend it doesn’t exist? It’s a part of you.”

Bucky looks down at the gloved hand in his lap. “Doll… It’s not… It’s an ugly part of me. Dark and violent. And when I’m with you I get to pretend I’m not that.”

You come to stand in front of him. “There are no ugly parts of you. There’s you. There’s dark and there’s hurt and traumatized parts, but no part of you is ugly. Because on the other end of those there’s bright and happy and healing. Growth. James Buchanan Barnes, I can’t emphasize how beautiful I think you are.”

You raise your hand to rest it against his cheek and force him to look up at you. He shuts his eyes and leans into it. “And I’d really like to see your arm. To know that part of you too, but I won’t make you show me. I want you to show me on your own time.”

Bucky lets himself relish in the softness of your hand against his cheek before leaning away. “Okay…” He takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

He begins to shrug out of his jacket when your hand comes to rest on his right shoulder. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I need you to know that.” You say quietly.

Bucky gives you a small smile. “I know… Doll, you’re the person I trust most in the world. I want you to know me. All of me.”

You smile down at him and take a step back to give him space. Bucky shrugs the jacket off quickly before he can second guess himself. The glove comes off next and Bucky feels strangely naked as your eyes trace over him.

“Buck…” You trail off. Your hand comes up before pausing. You look up at him with questioning eyes and he nods. Your hand comes to rest on his shoulder and you raise his sleeve up a tiny bit to look at the scars that litter his shoulder.

Bucky rarely looked at the scars there. Decades of the arm built by HYDRA had destroyed so much of his skin it had taken forever for Shuri to properly fix and build his new arm.

Your hand moves from his shoulder to the metal arm and your fingers trace over the plates and move through the lines of gold. You move your hand in silence. Slowly taking in the creation.

“This is beautiful.” You finally say quietly as your hand meets his. You interlock his metal fingers in yours and he pulls you closer. You look down at him with a sincere smile. “How could you ever think this is anything but beautiful?” You ask quietly.

Your other hand comes to rest on his cheek again. Bucky looks up at you and sees a flurry of emotions flicker in your eyes.

Part of him wants to pull you down and kiss you senseless. Show you how much he appreciates your never ending warmth.

But he can’t bring himself to ruin the moment. Finds that he doesn’t really want to. He enjoys being here intertwined with you.

And I.

He doesn’t hide his arm from you anymore. Finds himself shedding his jacket and gloves the second he’s inside your apartment.

You don’t really say anything, but he’s noticed the smile on your face whenever you notice him in his short sleeve shirt. He thinks one day he’ll be ready to go out without gloves on. He’ll wear short sleeves out in the summer instead of covering up with the jacket.

But now with you, it feels like progress enough.

You sit on his left most of the time now, like tonight, and hold his metal hand in yours like it’s flesh. It had taken some getting used to. He had flinched away the first time you’d done it, but now it felt almost like habit.

You didn’t seem to think leaning against his metal arm was uncomfortable at all. Never showed signs of discomfort when your head rested against his shoulder.

“I love you.” You say quietly. So quietly Bucky almost doesn’t hear it. He freezes for a moment before swallowing and nodding. He assumes you mean the words as a friend, he had heard you say them to Sam and your other friends from work.

“Me too.” He says just as quietly. He’s sure if he says the actual words you’ll see just how much he means them. How terribly in love with you he is.

But that doesn’t seem good enough because you sit up and place a gentle hand on his cheek that forces him to look you in the eyes.

“James, I love you.” You say the words with so much passion that Bucky knows without hesitation that you mean you’re in love with him. That you loved him as more than a friend.

Tears gather in his eyes as he nods. “I love you too, doll.” He laughs wetly as a smile spreads across your face. “God. I love you so fucking much it’s scary.”

You laugh too. “Good. I was so fucking scared. Buck, you’re my best friend. I… I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Bucky’s hand moves from his lap to your cheek before landing behind your neck. He pulls you in and when he kisses you and you kiss back he thinks he finally understands how much you love him.

Moments flash in his mind as you crawl onto his lap so you’re straddling him. Your constant patience with him. The gentle way you say his first name. The bright smiles and great excitement.

The ability to see the beauty in him.

You pull away with a deep breath and begin peppering kisses across his face. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” You say quietly.

Bucky shuts his eyes as he relishes in your affection. “I love you too.” He murmurs. You had become his home.

Somebody who could mend the crack caused by Steve’s departure. Different aspects of his life, yes, but you had helped him heal nonetheless.

He loved you.

And you loved him. You always had. It had just taken Bucky some time to understand how you showed it.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Starry Eyed

Natasha Romanoff x reader / masterlist

summary; during a meeting, natasha receives rather provocative photos of you, and though she is appreciative of the beauty that renders from the images, it was not the time nor the place for them to be sent / warnings; smut, degradation, mummy kink, use of sex toy, swearing, Dom!nat, oral on sex toy, oral sex (fem receiving) bratty!reader.

She, the infamous black widow prowled out of the meeting room, an intent stern in her emerald pools, as the trained assassin herself headed straight towards her quarters, where she knew her malishka would be, presumably occupying their shared bed with splayed and flamboyant legs that were spread so that whomever entered the domain would see everything on first hand display.

That thought only infuriated the redhead more, and so, with little effort, she thrust the bedroom door open, quickly slamming it behind herself, as she was met with the sight of you, phone in hand as you sat cross legged and completely nude upon the crisp black sheets. The woman licked her lips as she prowled closer, snatching the device out from your untrustworthy hands, and flinging it upon the floor, causing a furrow to erupt on your facial features.

“I was just trying to entertain you, Natasha.” That name earned yourself a quirked brow, and you gulped at the silent yet demanding expression that taunted you, forcing you instinctively to feel small and meek beneath it.

“What was that, whore?” The title made you whimper, as you pressed your thighs together as a means to relieve some tension that was brewing between their partition. A shaky breath withered from your mouth, as it made your bare chest rise, and you didn’t miss the way that Nat’s predatory eyes roamed your body.

“I meant mummy.” It came out as nothing short of a whisper, as you felt the woman loom over you, her dominating shadow reaching out to deliver a sharp and vivid slap to your cheek, spurring a stinging to erupt beneath the skin. “Sorry mummy.”

“Now that is how you should be acting little one, not teasing me like a slut. You realise anyone could have seen your little ‘innocent’ photo shoot, right? I mean Steve was sat right beside me, one glance over and he’d have turned back into a stiff and frozen man, that wouldn’t at all mind being stuck in an erect moment of time because he’d have seen that sweet cunt of mine that resides between those easily spreadable thighs of yours.”

“How can I make it up to you mummy?” The question rang heavy as it slipped off your tongue, your eyes pleadingly gazing up at her. If she weren’t mistaken, she’d think there were stars in your eyes, as they orbited around her, as though she were a planet, the central force and habitat for all life. But with that said, and defined, that wasn’t too far off. She was the hand that spun your universe, reeling it around as your eyes always pictured her, in the galactic realm of your mind, in this room, her red hair splayed around her as she succumbed to some kind of pleasure.

The spectrum of pleasure however was a vast array of different areas when the bedroom was involved. She got off on all sorts; degrading you until there were tears streaming out of your eyes and flowing past your water lines, hearing you beg to be touched. Natasha Romanoff was a wild card, and with her, you never knew what to expect. Though, that was part of the thrill of your relationship and the sexual aspect of it, there was excitement, and a suspense that had you always on edge (sometimes literally), for more.

“I don’t think you can blossom, guess you’re just gonna have to sit there, all patient, if that’s even possible, and watch as mummy gets herself off without your help, denying you of any recollection or release. You’ve been very bad, and I think you deserve to go cold turkey, and see that I don’t need you, you’re nothing more than an accessory to my pleasure.” A dark glare sparked upon her face as she ignorantly walked past you, reaching into the bedside drawer to pull out an object.

It served the same purpose as you apparently did, it was an aid to release, not a necessity. The firm black dildo was gripped in her hand as she walked to stand before you, cocking her deviant head to the side as she smirked down at you. She shifted the weight of the toy in her hand, as she held it out in front of you, the tip probing at your pouting bottom lip, the way the skin squashed under the pressure she applied seemingly amusing to her.

“Usually you have trouble keeping that mouth of yours closed, and now what, you don’t want to open it for mummy?” Her strict taunt had you obliging with her indirect command, widening the stance of your lips as she slipped the plastic subject of the empowered and one sided conversation into you mouth, shallowly thrusting the length into your mouth until it gently hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag. Natasha then removed it, surveying the moisture that coated the outside of the toy.

“That’ll do, what do you say malishka for me giving you any kind of attention?” You bowed your head, letting out a surrender of a huff as you gazed up at her with obedient and sparkling eyes that held a restraint within their spheres to contain a bratty eye roll.

“Thank you mummy.” The phrase slithered off your lips as you watched, watched, her strut to opposite the bed, the toy in her palm, your oral suffice trailing carelessly upon her skin. She rolled her desk chair open, seating her fine ass upon the furniture, as she fiddled one handedly with her belt, unknotting it, as she shuffled the material of her tight jeans down her legs, kicking them off from her ankles as her bejewelled irises remained latched upon you.

It would be a crime, a punishable one if you were to avert your eyes, and so you maintained eye contact with her undressing body, squirming as she padded her magical, searing fingertips upon the layer of her underwear, before pulling the flimsy material to the side, exposing her superior cunt. She tugged with her pointer finger upon the lips, showing you the rosy colour of her intimate parts that were hidden beneath the flaps; you licked your lips, wanting nothing more than to touch her.

She was cruel, for leaving you starved from any contact, circling her addictive clit as her feline pupils bore into you, as she moved the average sized toy forwards, running the length of it up and down her slit, before plunging it through her entrance, her walls latching onto the lightly ribbed exterior of the item. Her head fell back, as she pushed her clothed chest out, her hips rutting against the movements that she herself orchestrated.

Through her straining lids however, her eyes remained pursed on you, as though you were the one gaining pleasure from her fulfilling actions. You weren’t; that fact was clear enough as an emotional lurching in your chest tried to convince you to disobey the rules, and crawl to her, performing a better release than any toy could conceive. All you had earned considering the circumstances though, was wetness wandering down your thighs, as your clit pulsed to be touched.

“Mummy.” It was a small, almost inaudible plea, but the Black Widow heard, and she silently nodded her head, giving you an allowance of permission to situate yourself closer, and instantly you scrambled to the floor, floundering off the bed, dragging your palms and the bones of your knees upon the carpet, until you had a close up of the dildo being driven in and out of her pussy. A pout remarked upon your lips, all you wanted was a sweet taste of her nurturing essence, but you refrained from whisking your head forwards and taking what you wanted, no matter how loud that devil on your shoulder spoke. “So pretty.”

“Ya think?” There was smugness in her tone, poisoning it with her own twist as her dewy chin, bent up, a small moan courting out of the column of her throat as her spare hand reached down and fiddled with her priceless pearl, rotating small spirals around it, to bring her closer to her edge. To reply, you eagerly nodded, taking full advantage of your position as you watched her pussy clamp murderously down on the dildo, as deep hums evaded from within her.

You could see how the muscles of her thighs tightened, an extended sound emitting from her as she reached her beautiful peak, gifting herself a couple more thrust of the toy before pulling it out, and revealing how soaked it was. She held it out to you, and instantly, you knew what you had to do, it was practically like deja vu, the only difference was you knew that you had already done this, it wasn’t a familiar feeling prying at the edges of your mind, cursing you with confusion and derelict. No, you had lubed the length up for her to use, and now you were to be the wipe that cleansed it too.

This was the part you were more eager for though; to taste her. “Get on with it.” She roughly carded her talented fingers through your hair, delivering a spiteful tug to your scalp, as she hoisted your face closer to the tool, and intently stared as you opened your mouth, allowing it passage way through the obscene cavern. You gulped any remnants of her cum down, swirling your tongue around the ribbing, delightfully moaning at the feeling of her flavour running down your throat. Just as you were about to take it further down your throat, Natasha pulled you off the plastic with a pop. “That’s not the only thing that needs cleaning up little one.”

The explicit message was perfectly delivered, as your attention quickly grazed away from the dildo to her pussy, that clenched instinctively from your hungry glare. Diving in tongue first was no hassle, this had been what you were waiting for, and finally, finally, you had received the luxury to taste her nectar from the source. Your tongue run up the insides of her parted thighs, cleaning any spillage instantly up, tracing up to her lips, that you sucked into your mouth, replacing her cum with your saliva, not that she at all minded.

“I think you need to be a bit more thorough y/n.” She was serious, she had used your name, and thus, instead of teasing her folds with the tip off your tongue, you smushed your face as close as humanly possible, swiping against her clit many a time, switching to prodding at her entrance, sinking the part of you inside of her, as you grasped the beneath of her killer legs to give yourself more leverage. This was a miracle,it was practically a God’s feast laid out before you, already previously roused from cooking itself under a blithering sun. But now, it was enduring a pink flame, that you roasted her with, humming as your tongue lapped half obsessively at her insides.

“Fuck!” The red head hollered, tangling both hands into your locks, shoving you closer and smearing the most intimate part of herself along your chin. As she continued to pry at your hair, you moaned into her, sending an echo to rivet through her whole skeleton, making the assassin spill her arsenal into your mouth, as you accepted its token, and drank it down, shaking your head lightly as Nat loosened her grip on your head, slumping back into the chair, slightly rolling backwards, though you trailed after, keeping your face buried between her thighs.

She had to pull you off, and whence she did so, she swore there were stars glittering like sequins in your pretty eyes, dancing along the rims of the windows into your soul, like two ghosts, forever mingling their bodies against each other, in order to spend eternity as one. “Did I do a good job mummy?” You knew you had, her skin was pink and peachy, and she released a heavy and withheld sigh, as she traced your jaw, pulling you up for a kiss. As she tasted herself in the corners of your mouth, she smiled lightly, enjoying the taste half as much as you.

“Yes baby, but it doesn’t make up for your little stunt. I’m going to be taking some pictures of your body on my own, and if you ever, and I mean ever, try and distract me from important business again, I swear to you that I will make a whole PowerPoint of them for my team to sit through, and whenever you pass Clint or Tony or anyone else in the halls, you will known that they’ve seen far more than those starry eyes of yours.”

It wasn’t an empty threat, it was a focalised promise. She would definitely expose you if you were to distract her again during any important meeting or debriefings, but a part of you was not entirely opposed to that... She would get jealous if she heard anyone else talk about your body, and her own emotions would be induced by her own vowed actions, and you would receive a brunt of a force to stabilise her frustrations. Now the consequences of the consequences didn’t sound so bad...

[donutloverxo]

A Royal Scandal 3

Modern Royal King!Steve au

(Image from Pinterest)

cowritten with @lizzygal​

Note - There will be no taglists for this. You can subscribe to the  ao3 story to receive updates!

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Summary - Modern ruler, His Majesty King Steven G Rogers, is on a quest to make his long term secret relationship the real thing. He is a man in love and wants his lover and partner to be his queen.

Warnings - Smut (m/f), dub con/non con, sex tape, scandals, mentions of past domestic abuse, soft dark Steve, possessive Steve, spanking, power imbalance, mentions of previous domestic abuse, somnophilia.

Pairing - King!Steve x reader

Word count - 7k

Story masterlist

Sometimes Steven forgot that you weren’t that much younger than him. He forgot about a lot of things when it was only the two of you. You did that to him. You made him forget things that everyone else reminded him of constantly, intentional and not.

Early that morning was no different.

Long before his alarm went off, Steve found himself on his side watching you sleep. Feeling in every way equal to you, like there was not this huge ocean of things that he did not have in common with you, opposed to what the two of you shared.

Obviously, he was the son of kings and tyrants while you were the daughter of immigrants and a blue-collar family. You’d grown up in a house full of love and kindness and acceptance, he had not. You’d ended your teenage years going to college and then travelling and ending up here, where you chose to stay and work and travel and live a life that Steve could only dream of, his own had never been his own and never would be.

You had dreams and hopes, little things like aspirations. He didn’t.

Steve’s life was dictated by things like duty and obligations, expectations. Yours was not.

Maybe that was why he’d been so drawn to you?

Compared to all the royals around Europe and titled individuals, politicians, even old families, none of them interested him even a fraction of the amount that you interested him. To Steve you were exotic. You were a fascinating creature who might as well have come from Mars.

He couldn’t even say what it was or why.

For so long it had felt right to be alone. Considering the blood of monsters ran through his veins, Steve had been uninterested in any sort of companionship more than a brief encounter at a private location.

For Christ’s sake, he refused to sleep in the bedroom that his father had slept in.

Upon assuming the throne, he’d selected to take up older quarters in an unused part of the palace living complex. As if to ensure he was as far away from the rooms that his father and grandfather and great-grandfather had slept. Choosing to sleep in a bed untainted by any of those men, stored from when his land was ruled by an emperor. Hoping with the hopes of a young king that it would save him from their madness.

Beside him, you slept so peacefully, trustingly.

Steve had never brought anyone into his private apartment. Nor had his bed seen any carnal action since it’d gone into storage. Until you. He’d simply never been so inclined.

A rough sound from the growth on his cheek rubbing against his pillow. A pleasant reminder of that night that felt so long ago, yet also like only yesterday.

He’d had a beard back then he remembered.

A full bushy one.

One that had made you laugh softly at, roll your eyes and still manage to pull off an acceptable bow when you greeted him that late night.

“They beat Canada then Your Majesty?” You had inquired with good nature, setting down a whole stack of papers and folders onto the very modern conference table in a big room that could fit two dozen, more if the people were standing.

He’d beamed.

Steve remembered he’d been in a particularly good mood that night. Even if he was working late on the education push into the outer regions of his kingdom. A good amount was still very rural, many simple villages that lived as they had fifty or more years ago. Many parts of his kingdom were still deeply rooted in the past.

“Indeed. Eleven to four.”

He was beaming. Beaming! You were pretty sure you could see molars. It made you shake your head and begin to sort out all your work into piles to go over. Not that you’d ever admit to secretly being caught up in the hype of the team being so close to gold at the Winter Olympics. “So then the beard stays?”

“You of all people,” he admonished, coming over to help you. Picking up the well-marked up maps you’d spent hours annotating.

Making you roll your eyes.

On he went though, obviously needing to drive home the seriousness of this matter. “The beard stays until we win gold. Next we play Norway. I don’t think it needs to be said that we cannot risk it.”

He was serious. Really serious. If that full glorious beard was any indication.

More focused on the organizing task yourself.

Sorting your work by region, pile by pile, each had taken much work and effort and negotiation, endless phone calls and trips and emails to each area to get them to work not only with you, but one another. It was like herding cats. It had taken you months to get this all sorted out for Steve to see. His ideas weren’t even ready to be implemented. This was just the pre-gaming, the leadup, the work in preparation. You weren’t even on Step One. You were on Step Zero.

“Now that I know, I’ll be sure to grow a beard next Winter Olympics.”

And then you were rewarded with a rich hearty laugh from your king.

Well not your king, as you weren’t a citizen of this country. But you still liked to think of him as your king.

Watching you sleep was something he’d never tire of. Never get enough of. It was a luxury that he didn’t realize he wanted day in out.

The ability to wake up with you tangled up in blankets. Curled back against his front. Hogging pillows as you did. Allowing Steve to run his fingers up and down your bare thigh, along the curves of your body. Letting him lean forward to press his lips to your shoulder and see the peaceful rest of your face in his slowly lightening bedroom. Every last inch of you here for him.

Hungry.

That was what it was, he was hungry for you. Like a big bear that woke from hibernation after a long winter. At times he felt such a way. Never having felt this way about anyone prior.

In his own time, he slipped his fingers down along the round of your ass underneath the flesh of your hip. Warm. Soft. Smooth. Neither of you had left the bed since the late night bath in his tub.

Further down Steve allowed his fingers to trail.

Memorizing every last second to get him through his day. From how you felt pressed against the front of him, how your back moved against his chest with every steady breath you took. The way your legs tangled in his buttery sheets with his own, how the soft cheeks of your bottom pressed against his alert groin.

Most definitely though, how your skin tasted and felt beneath his mouth. Smelling like yourself from all your favorite bath products kept in his bathroom.

You’d smelled so good that night too.

You always smelled good.

It was something that he had noticed but hadn’t given any real thought to.

It seemed to be a mix of perfume and body lotion or cream. Cause Steve found the flowery smell would linger after you walked by in the way that perfume did, infusing the air and making his brain scream out that you were near. But also, when you shook his hand, it always had that sweet fresh clean smell afterwards.

Now, whenever Steve smelled it, all he could think about was you.

Those smells danced around him. Making the late hour bearable. Making the fact that the offices were empty but for the two of you, when you both should have been home in bed, not matter.

“Ok…” you were talking to him, pointing out places on the massive map that was his nation. Arms crossed. Legs spread. Standing beside you as you informed him with tones that indicated your happiness, your displeasure as well as your utter irritation. “…so I managed to get in touch with every Education Department in all nine of your territories.”

Though you were not looking at him, Steve nodded, laser focused on this project he’d tasked you with months ago.

“All of the department heads are on board with your desired overhaul to completely modernize the entire system. Unfortunately, they told me that I had to call all the district heads for all forty-six provinces to get their agreed participation too.”

Your tone went from pleased with yourself then skeptical and then annoyed.

You turned your head to look at him. “Which is what I spent the last three months doing. It was something of a thing.”

Steve could only imagine.

He was quiet though so you could go on. More than pleased with how well you worked in this position. He’d originally been skeptical with your being a foreigner. How dedicated would you be to a job in a country that was not your own? One hundred percent as it turned out.

Your hands flattened out dramatically on the table. Outrage surged from you. “I’m still waiting on two appointees because their predecessors apparently died during harvest season and no one could be bothered to replace the position. I literally had to fly out to the outer reaches of civilization to find this out. Cause all the government offices are closed during harvest season, fyi. But they’re literally filling the positions now.”

Such was the challenge of having a large kingdom with one foot in the future and one in the past. Such things led to the difficultly of keeping a Chief of Staff.

Steve’s previous Chief of Staff had come highly recommended and lasted a little over a month.

Whether it was from a lack of dedication, the obvious frustrations of the job or maybe he simply had not wanted to jump on a plane and fly six hours then ride by car five hours to remote areas in order to complete his work. Steve could not be sure. All he knew for sure was he’d keep you as long as humanly possible.

In his eyes, you were a saint.

“What’s with the question mark?”

Making you look to see which question mark you’d marked on the map full of stickers and marks and tabs. Hours had been spent working on the damn thing.

Seeing which question mark in question made your nose scrunch. “Oh…them, they refuse to even answer my calls until they are allowed to take their traditional name for their province. Which is way above my pay grade. Someone else is going to have to deal with them. I tried.”

Ah, Steve nodded, that was far from surprising. The far outer regions were notoriously independent or rebellious, depending on your stance.

He would deal with them accordingly. Not how his father did, but in his own way.

Steve’s attention was drawn to two nearby provinces. Each had a frowny face sticker. Without asking, he merely pointed.

A noise of pure disgusted frustration came from deep in your throat. Making you stand and look to him, brandishing your hands in all directions. “I tried my best with them. I really did. Both of those provinces absolutely refuse to take part in anything if the other is involved. Apparently, they’re still salty at one another over something that happened in fourteen-seventy-three and refer to me as the foreign she-devil. So…good luck with them Your Majesty.”

Soundly you slept.

Comfortable. Safe. At peace.

Making him feel like a true man. A provider able to care for you, protect you, satisfy you. As if he were stripped down to what nature intended. Instead of what society had dictated for you both.

Reaching down to that heavenly place between the V in your thighs, Steve pushed his fingers further to find your softness slippery, your skin slick with viscous arousal. In pushing his finger up further, running it around the edge of your slit to where the gateway to your body was hidden, he found you heavily aroused. Coating his fingers with a thick fluid that promised you would be able to take him now. Oozing into the cervices between his fingers and smearing thickly down his palm and over the back of his hand.

Unable to help himself, he brought his hand out from between your legs in order to look at your arousal. Merely the sight made his balls clench in eager anticipation. Tasting the bodily excretions had his hips moving against yours on their own.

A noise came from you. Though you were far from waking. Always one to enjoy your sleep.

On his tongue you were heady, ripe. Tasting like sin. Steve licked his fingers. Eyes closed so he could savor the taste, how you clung to his tongue and were thick, like a burst of brandy swirling with his saliva.

Awakened now from his deep sleep. Ravenous like a beast of the forest. He pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder. Making you mumble. Making you wiggle in your sleep, causing you to reach your arm out for a pillow to pull close. Hooking your leg up higher too. Becoming more comfortable in the bed in addition to opening yourself up more to your king. As if your body had connected to his on a level your mind was unaware and encouraged him to take you.

Down he peered. Strands of hair fell across his forehead at the harsh angle. A soft lightening of the sun through drapes he never closed last night allowed the sight of moisture. Folds of bare skin sheened up at him. Tempting him with that webbing of goo that promised him you were ready.

Taking himself in hand, he caught sight of your name curled over his side. Reminding him of your absolute possession over him. Sending his hand low to pull his foreskin back in order to feed this hunger of you that consumed him.

Your signature was all swoops and swirls.

Recognizable above anyone else’s writing he came across on a daily basis.

All over paper and on the maps. In little corners. Highlighted. In different color pens. On stickie notes. Written on napkins or on the back of random pieces of paper.

At the time, he’d had no idea how far gone he really was.

Not even when he watched you take note after note with a purple inked pen, your hand flowing across paper like a swimmer cutting through the water. Taking down his every word, every command.

A incredibly distinctive feeling of being full woke you up from your glorious sleep, in a very singular sort of way that could be from only one thing. Only one thing on earth felt like that when waking you up.

Pulling you out of a warm blissful sleep only to wake you with the exquisite feeling of being stretched open, pushed into, filled up. Making your fingers clench bedding or pillows or whatever they could grab.

A low breathy moan came from you in the time between you were woken and awake, your face burrowing in a pillow was followed by a soft profanity. Weight slowly covered you. Weight pinned you down to the bed a little at a time. Skin and sheets and soft dustings of hair rubbed against you.

Only when you had fully woken did you feel pubes brush against your cheeks. A light tap of scrotum bumped you too.

Long arms wrapped around you. Wet lips mouthed along the curve of your neck.

This was a far superior way to wake up. Compared to your apartment, in bed alone, to your neighbors loud shrilling alarm clock through your paper-thin wall.

Groaning out at the feel of His Majesty’s cock stuffed safely up in your secret garden. You found yourself whining at Steve at whatever time it was in the early morning. “…fuuuuck…what’d I say about doing that…” A swivel, nay, a swivel with a pop of his pelvis followed, making you see stars, gasp deeply as if you’d been stabbed in the lungs and then add on for God and Country. “…My King…shit, My King…oh shit, My King.”

Though it may have been said in jest, his tone was hot enough to scald. “If memory serves me correctly…” another deep push of thick hips shoved you forward into the pillows. “…you say, not in my ass unless I’m awake.”

Stars.

So many bright and colorful stars.

Mmm.

Yes, that was something you had told him on many occasions and it still held very true. If Steve was going to put anything in your ass, forget that thing he claimed was a dick, you needed to be fully awake so you could both physically and emotionally prepare yourself.

Nothing at all could have prepared you for the drastic turn your life was about to take that night.

Nothing.

Everything had been so normal. It was so regular. Like many a long night working late hours at the palace before. Hours had been spent going over all your hard work contacting each and every head in each education department per province, as well as per territory. In addition to the national department of education, preparing to prep them for what the king wanted.

Like any other late night, Steve helped you put all of your paperwork back in the correct order you had it in. Like every other time, he requested a palace car take you to your apartment. Granted the apartment you shared with your best friend was walking distance away. It was late and simply not safe and you found were touched that Steve would think about your well-being.

For a king, he wasn’t that bad. When it was the two of you anyway.

Looks aside, which he had in spades, he could be very funny in a sarcastic sort of way. He was very well read and intelligent, quick on his feet. Although people seemed to think of him a certain type of way based on his father and his own kingship at a young age, when he really was his own person.

You’d noticed he had a definite interest in the classical masters and had on rare occasion seen him sketch out something on a flight or during a less than stimulating event. He had an artistic ability that would never come to anything due to his role.

His strong sense of duty paired with a disgusting moral obligation pretty much guaranteed his life would be spent in service to his country. Period.

You could see why people thought he was hot. The man had been blessed by the genetic gods. Plus he was a king. Who didn’t grow up dreaming about being a princess? Or think about a literal Prince Charming from fairy tales?

Having now had the benefit of working in a real life palace. You knew the realities of that fantasy.

You had two pages of notes that could attest to the reality of your childhood Disney Princess movies.

Reality was always so different.

Not for the first time, you found yourself repeating yourself. “…and let me say one more time. Thank you so much for talking with my parents. I know it was only ten minutes, but, I know how busy you are and it just completely topped off their visit. My mother has been telling everyone about how she met the king. You even have my father cheering for the hockey team.”

A smile came over Steve’s face that was real.

It wasn’t one of his practiced smiles. It was an actual smile. You could tell because it reached his eyes.

“Well,” Steve answered you with a shrug, sounding genuinely pleased even if he also sounded tired and like he wanted nothing more than to go off to his living quarters in the palace and crash into bed, before he had to get up to start a new day. Helping you stack the last of your papers up. “Anything to convert a soul to hockey. Technically, it is his team too.” And because he could not help himself, Steve added on, “Even if his grandparents fled from here for a cushy life in the west.”

Up your hand flew to your chest.

Your jaw dropped in mock pain. “Ouch, Sir! That one was painful.”

His smile grew at your over-the-top reaction.

Still though, he dipped his head and you noticed there was a little blush on his cheeks above where that magnificent beard grew. Chagrined, he quickly followed up with, “I apologize. That was a cheap shot.”

In a physical sort of way that his people were known to interact, personal space be damned, Steve reached over to touch your arm apologetically. Not something he did frequently. Although he had done it a handful of times. The press of his mouth to your cheek was new. The little kiss was brand new. Steve’s lips were gentle on your skin. His beard tickled your face.

Never in your life had your heart pounded as violently in your chest as it did at that gesture. Quickly, your head turned. Though you did not move back or say anything. Instead, you found yourself staring at Steve. Looking into those pools of blue that were looking at you with the same amount of surprise that you felt. His lips were right there, right there.

Blood roared in your ears, your heart pounded faster and faster and faster.

He kissed you.

Did he really though?

Was it a kiss or was it a kiss?

For a moment in time, you leaned in. Leaned closer. Leaned till you almost touched him because that was what your body wanted to do. Until you remembered that Steve was a king. A KING. Remembering that made your head command your body to lean backwards a bit. Allowing you to see that he had leant in to meet you.

He’d leaned closer to kiss you.

What were you doing? What in the hell were you doing? You had no business doing this, no business at all messing around with Steve.

Fingers moved along your arm, tracing up the back of it softly. That simple touch made goosebumps break out over your skin. It made your breath hitch. Your hands began to shake so you grabbed the fabric of your skirt.

However, you made no move to step away from Steve. Nor did he make any sort of move to step away from you.

Another attempt at a kiss was not made.

Fingers touched your face instead. Steve was close enough to you that you felt his legs brush yours. You felt his breath against your face. Fingertips ran across the swell of your cheekbone, down over your lips, tracing the bridge of your nose in what felt like a desire to memorize your face.

Steve was gentle. His fingertips felt like feathers on your skin. He made you shake like a leaf in terror because you wanted him to touch you more. You wanted to be touched. You wanted to feel his hands on you and the soft glide of his thumb along the line of your jaw was painfully insufficient.

Without thinking, you reached up with your hands until you remembered that he was the king.

Were you allowed to touch the king? You weren’t sure. He was touching you and it was fabulous but were you allowed to do the same? You wanted to. You so deeply wanted to. You just were not sure what was allowed in this situation. It had not exactly been covered in the Royal Protocol Guidebook you had.

Then came Steve’s voice. Harsh. Gravelly. Desperate.

“Touch me. It’s ok. I want you to.”

For only a heartbeat or two you remained still, observing him, making sure. Only after that did you reach up with your hands to cover his wrists. Rub along the fabric of his button-up shirt. In doing so, you not only felt the strength in his well-muscled wrists, or how warm the silky fabric was, but, you could feel him tremble. He was shaking about as much as you were.

A rush of air surged from his lungs as if you had burnt him.

Curious, you turned your head so you could place a single kiss on the inside of his hand touching your face, right at the base of his thumb. In doing so, you ripped a noise from deep within him. A noise that was both pained while also infused with wanting.

“This is ok?”

“Yes,” he croaked out, as if he were terrified you would stop.

Never would you have ever imagined he would be so responsive. Almost touch starved it felt.

Sometimes, Steve still felt as if he were a little touch starved to you. Sometimes it felt like he’d gone his entire life without having that physical connection between two people. As complicated of a man as he was with as complicated of a life as he had, you at times forgot that he was still a human being with human being needs that were essential to thriving.

And it wasn’t like you were complaining.

Far from it.

Not after the orgasm you just had, not from on top of him either. Lounged across the front of him. Loose limbed. Languid down to your marrow. Peppering the damp skin of his neck with slow wet kisses and scrapes of teeth. Long drags of your tongue collected drops of salt that tasted of him. Lazily. Heart to heart. Stomach to stomach.

There really were worse ways to wake up.

Like, for instance, in your apartment taking cold showers cause the building’s water heater was ancient. That wasn’t fun at all and usually had you shivering and hurrying through an icy shower. Straight up not a good time.

This? This was soooo much better.

Feeling Steve’s long legs wrapped up in your own, paired with his softening member filling you by virtue of sheer size not letting himself just pop out…this was a much better way to wake up. Far superior in every way.

Not that you were willing to waste precious time like this luxuriating in post-coital bliss. No, no. A burning question was hot on your mind that kept popping up after last night. After all, you were a modern woman and this was a serious relationship. You had every right to ask this question at any time you wanted. Even now. As your boyfriend, the king, fondled your breasts in his hands with such intensity that you would have thought he’d just broken out of Alcatraz after a decade of no nookie. Not that you were in the least bit complaining. Not one bit.

“Am I going to have to quit my job?”

It was something of a concern.

You loved your job. You loved working with Steve. You loved your life as it was and a big part of you suspected becoming queen would mean big changes.

Not that you lifted your head from his neck, or ceased your trek down towards his collarbone. Trail of your kisses never slowing or stopping. No hint of any sort of disruption came. Not for a moment or two. Not till your ravenous boyfriend squeezed your breasts possessively. Thumbed your nipples and finally opened his eyes, as if it were the biggest chore on earth.

His voice was rough. His tone felt like hot gooey honey that just got everywhere. “No…not yet…”

Leading you to make a noise. A pop followed when your mouth left the dark spot you’d been sucking on nearly at his collarbone. What with your name already etched on him. What else could you leave in a display of ownership over him? “Nothing else to add My King?” For added emphasis, perhaps you gave you vaginal muscles a clench knowing what that did to him.

A grunt came from beneath you.

Wrapped up in yours, Steve’s legs clenched in response to what you did. White teeth sank into his upper lip and you absolutely thrived at the sight and feel of him arching up against you, shifting around beneath you at the way your body squeezed him.

Those hands left your breasts only to reach down, run over your waist as they had so many times before, leading you to grab them. Snatch then right up. Press them down into the mattress over Steve’s head. Since the man was far larger than you, this sent you leaning downwards and ever closer to his face. “Steve? I asked you a question.”

How easy it would have been for him to get free. Yet, he seemed content where he found himself. Still wedged within you. Warm in bed. Body a sea of a complex cocktail of chemicals after physically releasing into you. A far better way to wake up than alone in a massive bed. Or worse, to his mother jabbing at him to urgently tell him something that was not urgent at all.

Feeling your breasts press against his chest. Lightly brushing over his skin, your nipples little points that sparked a definite interest in his dick.

God did he want you to be his queen.

“Not yet,” Steve ground out, nearly close to being overwhelmed by you. Each and every word was enunciated to utter perfection, as if it took all of his concentration and effort to get them out. “I’ll have the palace leave your name out of the official statement today. We can go slow. Ease you into things…ease you out of your job…” and to reward him for such a thoughtful statement, you clenched around him once more.

However, it seemed, there was more and even though his eyes rolled up into his head at the feel of your core squeezing his not entirely soft organ, he pushed on with the determination of his ancestors. Grunting. Arching back into the bed as the pillows had all wound up on the floor. Perfect teeth clenched together. “M-my people…will…love you…too.”

So, it was entirely possible, that you were feeling all kinds of powerful watching him writhe beneath you. Knowing exactly what sort of repercussions this could have to your morning. Which was still progressing on time. It was entirely possible that you may have intentionally pushed your own pelvis against his to reseat yourself.

“Oh yeah? How can you be so sure? You saw what happened with those two over in England. And that prince isn’t even next in line to the throne.”

Perhaps it was the seriousness of the direction in which your conversation had taken, Steve remained beneath you. Taking no action, even though you could quite literally feel his dick grow more interested in what your hips were doing.

A panted out, “…fuck…” escaped from him, before he opened his eyes to look at you seriously, if not also a little heatedly. “Quit obsessing over them. The King of Jordan married for love. Queen Rania was a commoner. If you must, focus on them.”

Sudden movement found you falling off Steve and onto the bed, shoved onto your back and in a flash, he was on top of you again. Over you. Hovering. Though he’d escaped out of your body, you could feel the king’s most delicious semi, slick from your previous copulation, squish between you both.

Admitting on an exhale, “Forgot about them.”

“Everyone does.” He agreed, surveying down, taking in the sight of you. “My country appreciates you. They’re fond of you. You’re in all the papers and they’ve given you a nickname.”

And that. That. Nearly killed the mood.

It sent your eyebrows together dubiously so.

Everytime you were in the press it was when your skirt had been blown up on a windy day, or if you’d accidentally gotten food on your shirt. Or that time a baby goat pooped on your shoes. Or when you’d tripped and fallen off a dock into a lake. Who could forget that time you’d accidentally called the Prime Minister of Canada a ‘moose fucking cannibal’ when you’d still been getting the hang of the language, your first year on the job?

You’d been affectionately dubbed, ‘the King’s Foreign Devil’ and it had stuck.

Hell, you still got asked about your thoughts on the Canadian Prime Minister whenever a member of the press was around.

“Most the time, you have a higher approval rating than I do,” he added. Much to the consternation of Maria Hill in PR. “Trust me. There is nothing my country loves more than a hard-working loyal servant of the people who talks shit about western leaders.”

Mood totally killed, you seethed and not for the first time, “That was an accident! I was trying to call him Canada’s Disney Prince.”

***

The note had been hand delivered to the palace and was now crumbled into a ball in the Queen Mother’s bedroom as she stormed off, once more, that early morning in a fury of rose satin and silk. Her perfume clouded around her, drifting behind her, much like the wake of a boat cutting through the water.

Thick carpets silenced her heels. Doors opened for her as she neared them, allowing her to not need to slow her step even for a second. Not a single moment wasted as she made her way through the private living quarters of the palace.

Down hallways and around corners, over to the rooms that her grown son had selected as his own.

It would have been so much easier if he would have just taken the rooms that his father had lived in.

Although, with the horrific memories attached to those rooms, how could she blame him when he elected not to? She had her own private rooms. The dead kings rooms were locked up tight and still not used. Abandoned like so much he’d done, started and accomplished in his life.

Upon coming to her only child’s rooms, those doors were held open for her and on she pressed on. Sailing through his rooms, one after another, until she got closer to his bedroom and could hear his shower which was the direction she headed.

A brief glance was made at the mess that was his bed.

A roll of her eyes was followed by a shake of her head.

Some things males never grew out of it seemed.

“Steven!” She called out in warning, should he be in the bathroom about to come out in the nude. Which was the last thing she wanted to see.

Not only was his bed a mess but his clothes from yesterday were all over the floor.

She had every intention of telling him that he needed to straighten up this mess before the cleaning staff came in his room. The last thing she wanted was for them to think he was messy and then tell their families and friends when they went home that the king had a messy bedroom and word would get out that her son was a slob. Ugh. No. She’d make sure that he straightened up.

Speaking of the devil.

As his shower ran, Steve peered out of the bathroom with a wet head. A midnight blue towel was wrapped around his waist. A toothbrush was in his hand. To Sarah, it was very clear that her grown son had not shaved yet either.

Seeing him in such a state that morning along with his messy room and the fact the shower was going wasting water. It did not make her mood any more agreeable.

Though her son was taller than her and considerably more muscular, she never feared him.

She knew he would never hurt her like his father had so many times. Towards the end, Steve had even defended her from his father’s physical attacks. Those days. They had been dark. Horrible. Terrible. When she noticed that her husband had begun to carry a knife to protect himself from his son. Well. What was she supposed to do?

Attacking her was one thing. Being violent towards her was one thing. There were some things that she learned to tolerate. It was unescapable. Their son though. To take a knife to their son? Her son? Sarah would never allow such a thing.

She was queen at the time.

It was not so difficult to get the drug that she put in her husband’s evening nightcap. She’d used all of it. Thrown the vial away the next day when she went to rouse the king as she did every morning, only to find him dead in his chair. Fireplace having long gone out. Slumped down. Cold. The coroner had said it was a heart attack. Exactly as she’d been told the drug would work. He’d been buried with no one the wiser. Not even Steve.

“Yes mother?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “You are not growing another beard. Last time you looked like some man that lives up in the mountains in a tiny shack.”

Just as her own father once did, Steve’s eyebrows rose in surprise and question.

No. That was not why she was here.

Sarah had a higher calling that morning and straightening her slim shoulders, she so informed him. “Hope and Janet are here in the city. They’ve come for a surprise visit and will arrive at the palace within the hour.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed at her in response to her information.

It was horrifying. It was outrageous. It was not what he wanted to hear that morning one bit. Not at all. Not one single bit.

Hope and Janet?

Those were two names he never wanted to hear with the additional words being, ‘on their way’. No. Just no.

All he could say that was remotely civil, after what the then Princess Hope van Dyne had done, came out in something of a tone. “I don’t want to see either of them. If you want to see them, that’s your choice. Keep them away from me.”

Considering what the now Duchess Hope had spewed to every reporter, journalist and whomever with a platform…Sarah was a little surprised that Steve was being so kind.

She’d expected a bit more of a reaction from her son.

Could she be holding a bigger grudge against her one-time closest friend’s daughter? After what had happened, Queen Janet van Dyne had become somewhat distant. Which was not surprising. Hope had not broken the engagement gracefully. Nor had she been anything less than opinionated afterwards.

“I suspect she is in trouble,” Sarah confessed. “Why else would they come here? Considering everything that Hope has said over the years.”

Steam continued to seep through the cracked door.

Sarah was about to say something about the shower. Steve was wasting a considerable amount of hot water. She herself was leading the Go Green Initiative in the country and as she stated constantly, it all began at home.

“Mother, don’t take this the wrong way, but, I wouldn’t shit in Hope’s mouth if she was starving.”

Ah.

Perhaps she’d been too quick to judge Steve’s current opinion on the wayward duchess?

Pondering his statement, Sarah found herself looking for any way to come back with a counter when she noticed that the shower turned off. Which was odd. Shower’s didn’t turn themselves off.

What was even more peculiar, Steve reached back behind himself to shut his bathroom door.

It clicked.

Like a light going off.

How could she not have noticed? How could it not have been obvious?

Blue eyes that were a little softer than her son’s narrowed. “You aren’t alone.”

Silence.

Quiet.

Her pink lips opened in surprised. A question hovered on her tongue.

“No mother.”

“But…”

“Mother,” he implored as only a son could. “Not now. She would not want the first time she officially meets you to be when you’re dressed for the day and she is not.”

And though her son’s words were true. They were right. They were exactly what she would have wanted him to say and because she had raised him well, she was even proud that he had made such a quick decision. It wasn’t fair.

Sarah wanted to find out who you were. She wanted to meet the woman that her son was involved with. Was that so wrong? Sarah wanted to meet the woman that her son was considering marrying. There was so much she wanted to say to you, so much to teach you, so much she wanted to learn about you. Perhaps her desperation showed because her son reached out to place a hand on her elbow.

“If you can chase Hope and Janet away, we could have lunch together. The three of us. If not, dinner? Or even tomorrow. I’m not doing anything with Hope under this roof. Not after she referred to our country as a third world plus hellhole full of war criminals and superstitious backwoods heathens.”

Ah, so he did remember.

Those words had been seared into her memory as well. Sometimes Sarah wondered, as Steve had never really given much indication that he cared one way or the other what Hope had said. It was only after she began to speak unflatteringly about their people that he grew irritated, much like herself.

Although, what irritated Sarah more, was the quiet that came from the royal house of van Dyne and Pym a few countries over. Never once had Janet spoke up. Never had Janet said anything about her daughters outrageous remarks or behavior. Nor had she apologized.

Knowing her son, Sarah knew that he would never court anyone who was not kind or compassionate. Steve would never pick a Hope as his queen.

Up came a hand that bore a lovely ring decorated with fresh water pearls from their own waters. “I’ll have them gone before lunch and then we will all sit down together so I can finally meet her.”

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

wooohooo MCU gremlins drabble

Thor and Bruce examined the burn patters swirling on the remains of a wall, as Tony and Steve chatted to themselves.

“It’s been a month since these so-called Four Warriors were summoned, and we still haven’t found them. And now we know they have energy-based weapons.”

“But don’t you think that’s strange? These Warriors have been in New York for a month, and this is the first we’ve seen of any sort of attack.”

“Ahem.” Thor stood up. “I’m afraid that you are incorrect, Man of Iron.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

Bruce stepped in, data pad in hand, which he passed to Tony. “The burn patterns here are too sporadic to be man-made. They look like natural lightning- or the kind of stuff Thor can summon. If I didn’t know this came from the middle of the city, I’d say the wall was just struck in a storm.”

Tony hummed. “So, what are you saying? Instead of the Warriors running around my city with weapons, they’re running around with superpowers? That’s worse!”

“Tony, you have to calm down.”

The Thunder God shook his head. “Actually, I have seen this kind of lightning before. It was made by a child of the stars- your people do not have a name for their race.”

Steve blinked. “An alien?”

“Yes, but one forged in the heart of a star. That is not the concerning thing about these markings, however.”

“What is it?”

“They are powerful, but wildly inaccurate. Whoever shot these blasts was not trained to use them effectively.”

“Meaning?”

“They are either a non-combatant... or a juvenile. I would tend towards the latter, as a fully grown star child would have more power in their blasts.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “It’s a kid? You’re sure?” He stopped. “Fuck.”

“Language.”

“Shut it, Rodgers. I just remembered something.” He tapped the data pad. “When we fought that weirdo with the staff, we saw a bunch of teenagers.”

Steve made a noise of realisation, and his heart sank. “Four teenagers. I thought they’d been caught up in the blast, so I made sure they got out safely. I only saw two of their faces- but they were definitely just freaked-out kids in over their heads.”

Bruce took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “Are you saying he summoned teenagers to do his dirty work? Are you saying the dangerous Warriors SHIELD has been tracking are kids?”

“Most likely stranded kids, if they’re still in the city.”

“Fuck.”

Steve didn’t admonish him this time.

——————————————————————————

A good thing about a city that’s constantly under attack is that nobody looks at a beat-up teenager twice, except with pity. Tommy knew that from back in L’Manberg, and it still rang true in... wherever the fuck they were. New York? He kicked a rock. “Fuckin’ stupid name. I would have come up with a much cooler one.”

Purpled scoffed, but there was no malice in it. “Uh huh.” The Starborne kept an eye on the entrance to the alley, fingers flexing around a hidden knife. He wouldn’t be caught unawares again. “You’d have named it L’Yorkberg or something.”

“Like I said, a much cooler name.” Tommy shot his friend a grin, and the wall behind them promptly disappeared. A tall figure with a hood over his face beckoned them through, the wall clicking seamlessly back into place behind them.

Finally, safety. The house they’d found was abandoned, and if anyone had come across it they’d be... confused. Random chunks of soil, sand and marble in perfect cubes were scattered around the room, and every surface was covered with random bits and pieces of machinery.

Purpled swept some scrap metal off of a cube of granite, and emptied out the bag of food he’d snagged on top of it. “I got enough to last us the week. I don’t think they saw me, but we should go to a different store next time to be safe.” Tommy passed the hooded figure a handful of first-aid kits. “Did Tubbo get that fridge working?”

The hooded figure- Ranboo- nodded. “Yeah, put the meat and stuff in it so it doesn’t go bad.” That had been a shock- food in this world spoiling over time. They couldn’t get ill from it, just Hunger, but it was still unpleasant to eat. The worst part of it was that they couldn’t just stock up on bread and wait for someone to find them, they had to constantly go out to get food. At least the first-aid kits were just a precaution.

The ram hybrid in question leaned into the room. “Hey, guys! Did you run into any trouble?” Tommy shook his head emphatically, while Purpled looked sheepish. “No...”

Tubbo put his hands on his hips. “What happened?”

Purpled coughed, embarrassed. “We kind of got mugged. They wanted this green paper stuff we found.” Tommy puffed out his chest proudly, wings flicking mischievously under his hoodie. “Purpled kicked the shit out of them, you should have seen him! Zapped them right through a wall.”

The ram’s eyes lit up, radiation symbols dancing in his pupils. “Sick!”

Ranboo, on the other hand, looked slightly panicked. “Uhm, aren’t we trying to keep a low profile?”

Tommy shrugged. “Eh, we had our hoods up, plus there’s a fuckin’ million people in this city. It’ll be fine.”

Tubbo clapped his hands together twice, banishing the nervous air that had grown in the room. “Right. Ranboo, you’re still banned from the kitchen after the Spaghetti Incident, so Tommy, it’s your turn to cook.”

——————————————————————————

Tony Stark was not good at waiting. It took approximately seven seconds for JARVIS to illegally download the CCTV footage of the attack, and about sixty for everyone watching to see what had really happened. It was still too long for him.

Two teenagers were walking down an alleyway, one in a red hoodie and one in a purple one. They were talking together and laughing about something.

“Red has blond hair, blue eyes, about 6’3. I think he’s got a dyed white streak in his hair.” He’d roped Natasha in for this, her spy training making her excellent at spotting details others would miss. “Purple has lighter blond hair and... purple eyes? Huh. They could be blue too, just a trick of the light. He’s shorter than Red, maybe 5’11?”

One of the teenagers swung his bag at the other with a grin on his face. The other yelled at him. Two older men appeared at the other end of the alley.

The spy’s eyes narrowed. “Two adults, 20-25, Caucasian, wearing beanies and dark clothing. They’re armed, one of them is nervous but the other has done this before.”

One of the men pulled a gun, and the other cracked his knuckles. The teenagers scowled.

“Huh. Interesting. Red and Purple aren’t afraid of them. They look... annoyed, but not scared.”

The man with the gun lunged forward, and was promptly knocked through a wall with a blast of electricity. The other man froze, and the teenager in red hit him over the head with a bag, before bursting into nervous laughter.

Nat’s eyes widened. “Holy shit. Okay, now I get why you wanted me to see this.” She looked at Tony. “Mutants? Have you contacted Xavier yet?”

Tony shook his head. “Not just mutants. Thor thinks Purple is an alien. Called him ‘a child of the stars’ or something.”

Shadows appeared at the end of the alleyway. The teenager in red swore, the words clearly visible despite the silent recording. He tore off his hoodie to reveal a large pair of wings, and grabbed his purple-clad friend. The pair flew out of sight of the camera.

“Red might be a mutant, we don’t know. Neither of them are showing up on any databases. No birth records, schooling, missing persons reports, anything.”

Nat sat back in her chair. “Right. You got any idea where they went after this?”

He shook his head. “Not one. We can assume Red landed in a remote area and hid his wings, before meeting up with the other two.”

She rose an eyebrow. “Other two?”

“There were four teenagers at that battle, remember? Just after four great Warriors were supposedly summoned.”

Recognition flashed in the spy’s eyes. “You think they’re the Warriors? They’re a little young.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. Steve was pissed when we put two and two together and Bruce nearly Hulked out. Kids don’t belong on a battlefield.”

“What do we do now?”

“Look for patterns. Where we see them, and when. JARVIS is looking through all public cameras right now, and he’s already found Red and Purple stealing food from a nearby store a couple of times.”

“No sign of the other two?”

“Not yet. Although, they could just be better at hiding. Hell, one of ‘em could have invisibility powers or something. Hard to tell.”

She shook her head. “I doubt it.”

Tony recognised that calculating look in her eyes. “You’ve figured something out. Alright. What’ve you got for me?”

She steepled her fingers together. “Put it this way. You’re a kid, and let’s for argument’s sake say you’ve been summoned to an unknown city, possibly even an unknown planet. You’re lost, and you’re evidently not able to get money or food, if you’re stealing from stores regularly.”

“Right.”

“If one of you has invisibility, why risk the visible ones getting caught? Why not just send them instead? No, my money is on Red and Purple being the most inconspicuous.”

He cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“They’re the easiest to blend in- the most baseline human-looking. And considering one’s an alien and one has wings, that’s saying a lot. The other two might not be able to go out in public without causing a scene.”

“Huh. I hadn’t thought about it that way. But it makes sense.”

She shrugged. “Or the other two could be injured. Red was holding a bag full of medical supplies.”

“Shit. We need to find them, and fast.”

!!!!!

:D

[babygirl-diaz]

You're Cute Enough to Fuck With Me Tonight (AU)

Going to a club when you’re in your late 30s is not the best way to spend your Saturday nights, but Steve and Natasha insisted, so Sam ended up giving in to the peer pressure. Natasha got them to bypass the queue outside because she apparently knew the owner. The nightclub turned out different from what Sam was expecting. It was an elite club with its own fancy VIP lounge. Natasha got them a VIP booth and the three of them did whiskey shots to celebrate the successful first season of their tv show.

They were talking and laughing and well into their third beer when Natasha said, “Sam, don’t look now, but cokehead over there is eating you up with his eyes.”

“Huh?” Sam asked, and turned around to see who she was talking about when he found a white dude with short dark hair and a face full of facial hair, looking at Sam like he was starving and Sam was a buffet. There was a line of cocaine in front of the guy and he leaned down to snort it before coming up to wave at Sam. Sam ignored him.

“I tell him not to look and what does he do… he looks,” Natasha said sarcastically. “The guy’s hot, though. I think you should go for it.” She leaned back against Steve, who absently stroked her arm.

“The guy looks like trouble to me,” Steve pointed out. “I think you should stay away.”

“Wow, thanks, Dad,” Sam huffed.

“I love this song!” Natasha announced when the strings of a familiar song played. Before Sam could say anything, he was being pulled onto the dance floor by his friends despite his protests. “Call Me By Your Name, really?” Sam asks

“What? It’s a nice song!” Steve said, almost offended.

“You’re so whipped!” Sam laughed and slapped him on the back.

He moved his hips and ass along with the music and let out a frustrated groan when Natasha and Steve started grinding up against each other and got lost in one another. Sam knew this would happen. He’d end up as the third wheel and that’s why he wasn’t keen on coming tonight.

Sam lets out a surprised sound when he felt hands on his waist. Whoever had their hands on him spun him around, and Sam immediately came face to face with a pair of bright blue eyes, rimmed red. It was that cokehead from earlier. Sam wanted to pull away but got hypnotized by the look the guy was giving him.

The guy leaned in close to Sam’s ear and sang completely out of tune. “Romantic talkin'? You don't even have to try. You're cute enough to fuck with me tonight.” His voice was rough and despite the bad singing, it ran a shiver down Sam’s spine.

“I’m Bucky,” the guy introduced himself and pulled Sam even closer to move their hips together. “And you’re hot.” His voice was slightly slurred.

“Well, lucky for me, my name is Sam and not Hot.” Sam wrapped his arms around the guy’s neck and pressed their chests together.

“Sam…” Bucky said as if testing out his name. “Beautiful name for a beautiful guy.”

“You’re just saying that to get into my pants,” Sam smirked.

“Is it working?” Bucky pouted

“Nah, you gotta try harder.”

“God, you’re so hot,” Bucky said into Sam’s ear and took his earlobe between his teeth and pulled on it, making Sam moan. “I want you so bad,” he continued to say and squeezed Sam’s ass. Maybe the alcohol made him do it, but Sam surged forward and kissed him. He darted out his tongue and licked Bucky’s upper lip before taking it between his own lips. He then tilted his head to the side and kissed the edge of Bucky’s lips. Bucky opened his mouth and Sam’s tongue slid inside and he let himself explore Bucky’s mouth. The kiss got intense and heated. Sam felt Bucky’s cock press against his and he moaned into Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky swallowed up the sound. The song ended and they pull apart but stay close. “Let’s get out of here,” Sam said over the next song.

“Okay,” said Bucky and took Sam’s hand, leading him out of the club. But when they got outside, a small group gathered around them and asked Sam for autographs and photos. Sam felt himself strain in his jeans and he hoped no one noticed it as he took photos and signed autographs. Once the crowd dispersed, Sam found Bucky giving him a curious look. “You some kinda big shot?” He asked.

“I’m an actor,” Sam replied. “Ever heard of the show Captain America and the Winter Soldier? I’m the Captain America part of it. My friend Steve is the Winter Soldier.”

“I don’t watch tv. Don’t get the time,” Bucky shrugged. “But I get to fuck someone famous. That’s one thing off my bucket list.”

“So that’s why you wanna fuck me?” Sam asked faking offense. “And hey, who said you get to fuck me?”

Bucky got closer to Sam and kissed him again. “Oh, you’re so gonna let me fuck you, doll.” The way Bucky says doll makes Sam shiver and bite his lips.

“You wanna come back to my place?” Sam asked.

“Nah, I can’t wait that long but I know just the place.”

Bucky took Sam’s hand and led him towards the parking garage. Sam raised an eyebrow when they got to Bucky’s vehicle. “You some kinda soccer mom?” He asked looking at the Jeep SUV.

“It’s nondescript. Works well for my line of work,” Bucky shrugged. “Besides, you’re gonna thank me in a bit.”

“Your line of work? Fuck, you’re not a stay-at-home dad, are you? I don’t do married men.”

Bucky threw his head back and laughed as he got into the SUV. Sam followed him. “I am not a stay-at-home dad or married,” Bucky replied.

Bucky was on him, kissing him, the second they got in.

Sam pulled away briefly to ask, “What do you do then?”

Bucky looked him right in the eyes. The red rim around his eyes was gone and his eyes turned dark as he replied. “I’m an assassin. I was at the club to kill one of my targets.”

Sam blinked at him before he burst out laughing. “Wow, I’m the actor, but you’re the one with the vivid imagination.”

A smirked twitched along Bucky’s lips. “What can I say? I have a boring ass job. So I’m just trying to make myself sound interesting.”

“So what do you actually do?” Sam asked. “No. Wait. Lemme guess.”

“Be my guest.”

Sam’s eyes trailed down Bucky’s body. “You’re an investment banker.”

Bucky’s eyebrow shot up at that. “So damn close… I’m a stockbroker. How did you--”

“I’m just that good.” Sam winked at him. But then a smile broke across his face and he shook his head. “I saw you with those Wall Street folks earlier. Wasn’t that hard to figure out what you did for a living.”

Bucky leaned in close and kissed Sam once again. “So smart,” he said in between the kisses. “Just the way I like ‘em. Get in the backseat.”

Sam didn’t need to be told twice. He made his way onto the backseat and took off his clothes. He tossed them onto the front seat and felt his cheeks heat when he noticed the way Bucky was looking at him. Bucky’s blue eyes dilated, and he licked his lips while once again staring at Sam like he was a buffet. Bucky pulled out a condom and single-use lube from his wallet and Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “You were waiting to get lucky tonight, weren’t you?”

“I just like being prepared,” Bucky replied as he got into the backseat as well. He took off his own clothes and threw them onto the driver’s seat and pulled Sam closer to ravish his lips.

Bucky was right. Sam was thankful for the fact that the vehicle was an SUV. They had enough space to fuck in the back.

When they finished, it left Sam breathless and sore, but in a good way. Bucky drove him home, and the two cuddled up naked on Sam’s bed.

“Didn’t think you’d be a cuddler…” Sam commented.

“Oh, I love to cuddle,” Bucky replied, and tightened his grip around Sam’s middle.

Sam made his head more comfortable on Bucky’s chest and kissed his pecs. “You’re gorgeous, you know that.”

“So I’ve been told,” Bucky chuckled.

Sam frowned at that. “How many guys do you pick up at the club?”

“Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?” Bucky teased and kissed the top of Sam’s head. “If it’s any consolation, you’re the best I’ve ever had.”

“You’re just saying that cause I let you fuck me,” Sam huffed.

Bucky got on top of Sam and pressed their lips together again. “Nope, I’m only saying that so that you’d let me fuck you again.” His hand moved down on the sheets and groped Sam’s ass, making him gasp.

“You asshole,” Sam said, with no heat behind his words. “Lube and condoms are in the side drawer.”

“How many guys do you bring around here?” Bucky asked, narrowing his eyes.

Sam smirked at that. “If it’s any consolation, you’re the best I’ve ever had.”

***

Sam woke up the next morning to a cold and lonely bed. Bucky had snuck out during the night without even saying goodbye. That made Sam hurt a little. Just a little. Huffing, Sam threw the sheets over himself and fell back asleep. He didn’t know how long he slept, but the ringing of his doorbell woke him up. Sam wanted to ignore it and go back to sleep, but the person on the other end of the door was relentless.

Groaning, Sam got out of the bed and put on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt before making his way to the door. He threw it open and found Natasha and Steve standing there, looking equally worried.

“Oh thank god,” Steve pushed past Natasha and hugged Sam tightly.

The guy was built like a tank, and Sam struggled in his embrace. “Let me go! You’re crushing me!” Sam complained and pulled away from his friend to catch a breath. “What is wrong with you, man?”

“You disappeared last night! And then this morning there was news that someone at the club died and you wouldn’t answer your phone… we were scared!”

“What?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, your leering cokehead friend, one of his friends OD’d at the club last night.”

“Shit,” Sam hissed.

I’m an assassin. I was at the club to kill one of my targets. Bucky’s words rang in his ears and for a moment, Sam entertained the thought that maybe Bucky wasn’t joking after all. But he shook his head and got rid of the thought as soon as it entered his mind. There was no way Bucky was responsible for some guy overdosing. Sam was being ridiculous.

“Where did you go last night?” Natasha asked, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“The leering cokehead… I brought him home,” Sam replied.

“What?!” Steve screeched. “Why would you do that?”

Both Natasha and Sam gave him an exasperated look, and he threw his hands up.

“So how was he?” Natasha asked.

“The best I’ve ever had,” Sam replied.

[for-fucks-sake-h]

At My Weakest - two

rated: m, mature | word count: 4.2k | story page  

“I wanna taste you again. Like a secret or a sin.”

  - Matthew Perryman Jones 

When Gianna stirred awake, she wasn’t surprised to find Harry laying beside her. What she was surprised about though was the absolute softness of his face. 

The lines of his cheekbone and jaw were still sharp, but his skin was completely smooth. The usual indent between his brows was nonexistent, and his hair was a beautiful curly mess. She found herself reaching out to smooth some stray curls back behind his ear, her fingertips just barely brushing his soft skin. 

He didn’t disappoint once he got her in his bed. Turns out his smug, cocky demeanor could be backed up, and backed up well. He wasn’t short on foreplay, he didn’t rush into it. If anything, he drew out the string of anticipation so ridiculously thin it snapped; until they were all hands and mouths and moans and pleasure. 

It was good. It was fun. It was a much needed distraction.

But it looked different in the daylight. 

What was passionate gasps and needy hands in the dimmed moonlight, was just a sloppy rebound fuck with a friend in the early morning daylight. 

Gianna was careful to slip out of bed, nakedly grabbing her borrowed sweater from the floor before tiptoeing to his bathroom. And when she returned, she was met with green eyes and tousled hair. 

“Thought you left.” His voice was even deeper than usual, the early morning rasp doing nothing to quell Gianna’s increasingly warming skin. “Didn’t think you were a hit and run kinda person.” 

Gianna breathed a soft laugh as she made her way over to him in just her sweater.

“No, but I should probably get my ass on the couch before your sister wakes up.” 

“Y’know she sleeps like the dead.” He watched her as he fiddled with the corner of his duvet, eyes tracing the curve of her hip where the sweater ended against her caramel skin. “Could give you one more before you go.”  

The lightness of his eyes looked iridescent in the morning light, especially in comparison to the blown out brown of Gianna’s staring back at him.  

He sat up just then, the dark emerald sheet slipping down his chest to rest casually across his bare hips. He was a sight with his unruly hair falling over his collar bones and his toned chest and stomach on full display. 

“In fact,” he started as he scooted down the bed until he was right in front of her, his feet meeting the ground as he pulled her closer between his thighs, “was thinking we could do this whenever you want.” 

Gianna’s hands found his bare shoulders, his skin still incredibly warm from sleep and as soft as it looked. 

“Is this my sweater?” Harry asked suddenly as he looked down to where he played with the knitted fabric at her hips, his hands slowly splaying out on Gianna’s bare thighs.  

“Gemma gave it to me last night,” she responded softly.  

“Hm. Anyway… could be a perfect fit for both of us,” Harry murmured, his head tilted up towards Gianna’s, his lips inches from hers. The innuendo was embedded in his tone and the look on his face, and even more blatantly obvious when the most subtle indent of a dimple teased its way onto his cheek.  

It would be too easy for Gianna to take him up on the offer, crawl back into bed with him and let him bring her over the edge as many times as he wanted; as many times as she wanted. But for as sexy and generous as he’d been, she knew it wasn’t the best idea and something she shouldn’t get used to.  

Gianna sighed with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder blade. “H…” 

“G,” Harry rebutted in a playful tone. 

“Probably not a good idea.”  

“I beg to differ. Think it’s a great idea. My best idea yet.”  

“Last night was fun,” Gianna offered gently. “I just don’t think we should make a habit out of it. I have a lot going on and I don’t want to drag you—”

“—Hey, say no more.”  

If Harry’s ego was bruised from the rejection, he didn’t show it.  

Instead, he pushed himself up from the bed as she took a step back, the sheet knowingly falling away from his body as he stood before her at his full height. They were nearly chest to chest, and it took everything inside Gianna to ignore the way her nipples pebbled beneath the soft fabric of her sweater.  

“The offer’s available if you ever want it.”  His lips curled around every word, only making his offer even more overwhelmingly enticing.   

He didn’t wait for a response. Instead, his chest brushed against her arm as he carelessly moved around her to head to the bathroom, completely naked, every inch of his body on display.  

If he felt Gianna’s eyes on him, he didn’t show it.   

A fresh steam of her reworn silk skirt and sheer button down blouse later, and the party was in full swing, guests arriving one after another to her parents home.  

Gianna was lucky to have arrived when she did, the distraction of guests doing her every favor to hold off the inevitable questions from her family. A quick comment that Steve was held up at work was as far into it as she could get before her mother was whisked away by one thing or another. Gianna wasn’t so worried about the lie as she was her delivery of said lie. 

The end of her relationship was the last thing she felt like discussing at her fathers 50th birthday celebration.  

The one thing she didn’t anticipate was the possibility of Steve showing up.  

She saw him as soon as he walked through the front door, his polo shirt and perfectly styled hair immediately catching her eye.  His eyes scanned the room in search of her, and it felt like her heart could literally drop out of her ass.  

Gianna excused herself from her fathers colleagues before making her way toward him, her blood boiling as her heart pounded in her chest.  

“What are you doing here?” She whispered harshly as she pulled him aside, eyes ablaze as she looked at him.  

“You haven’t been answering your phone.”  His response was so casual for someone who blew up their life together without a second thought.  

“Yeah you lost that privilege yesterday, Steve.”  

“Gianna, please. Let’s just talk about this.”  

“You need to leave.”  

“Gianna—”

“Y’alright?”  Gianna turned to look up at the sound of the intruder's voice, her eyes meeting Harry’s expressionless face immediately.  

Gianna was quick to reel in her emotions as well, instead smiling and greeting Harry and Gemma and their parents.  

“Hi guys! Yeah, yeah, all good. Steve was just leaving,” Gianna continued to smile despite the confused look on Harry and Gemma’s parents faces. “He’s gotta work.” 

Steve huffed. “You’re being ridiculous.”  

“Let’s go find Lisa!” Gemma suggested to her parents with a gentle guide on both of their backs.   

“Oh, she’s in the kitchen.” Gianna pointed in the direction of her mother and released a sigh when they headed that way.  

Gianna turned back to Steve the moment they were out of earshot. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”  

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but Harry was quick to interject. “Think she told you to go.”  

Gianna watched the anger wash over Steve’s face as he turned to Harry.

“Shouldn’t take me telling you for you to listen,” Harry added with a disapproving shake of his head.

That confidence Harry exuded? Yeah, it came in handy in a wide array of situations.  

“Don’t make me kick you out of here,” Gianna told Steve. “I don’t want to cause a scene and embarrass my mum but I will if I have to.”  

Harry took the most subtle step closer. He really only sort of shifted his weight towards Gianna more, barely enough to even notice, but judging by Steve’s disgruntled face, he noticed.  

Gianna noticed too.  

“We’re going to talk about this later.”  Just the sound of Steve’s voice made Gianna’s heart plummet. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, but it was. 

She watched him turn around with an exasperated huff, a withheld breath escaping her when he disappeared through the front door.  

“Y’okay?”  

Gianna momentarily forgot Harry was still standing beside her.  “Yeah,” she nodded. “Gonna go hide for a bit and collect myself.”  

She didn’t wait for his response before she disappeared upstairs with tears welling in her eyes.  

Who did Steve think he was?  Just showing up at her parents home as if nothing happened? Something did happen. A lot of shit happened.  Many words were exchanged and the way Gianna left their home and didn’t look back said even more then her frustrated, broken words.  

Gianna didn’t know how long she hid in her childhood bathroom, but apparently it was long enough for someone to come looking for her when she heard the softest tap on the door.  

She wasn’t crying, that was a plus. So she braced herself for her mother to be undoubtedly on the other side of the door, but opened it slowly to find none other than Harry leaned up against the doorframe, his face closer than she would have expected.  

His chin was pointed down towards his chest, leaving him to look up at her through his lashes with his eyebrows raised high and the lines across his forehead even more prominent.  

“Just checking on you. Y’don’t have to come out yet if you don’t wanna.”  

Gianna leaned against the wall so that she was standing parallel to him, her body lining up perfectly with his, both of their arms crossed over their chests, the door to the bathroom propped open just enough for them to see each other.  

“Is my mum looking for me?”  

He pursed his lips with regret. “I did hear her say your name a little bit ago.”  

Gianna released a deep sigh as she let her eyes fall closed. “I can’t believe he just showed up here.”  

“Do you know what he wanted?”  

Gianna scoffed. “No clue, probably to torture me some more. As if yesterday wasn’t enough.”  

“He’s got some nerve,” Harry shook his head in disbelief. 

Gianna exhaled again. “I don’t even wanna be here and now I gotta go put a show on for everyone and pretend like everything’s fine.” 

Harry gave her a small, understanding smile. “Want me to go fall down the stairs as a distraction?” 

The tiniest shiver rolled down his spine when she smiled with a shake of her head. 

“I’ll just dive head first. They’ll be so distracted with my broken collar bone that you can sneak out the back,” he added with a completely straight face, intently fighting the twitch at the corner of his mouth. 

Gianna laughed softly as she pushed her elbow against his. “What if you mess up your face? I’ll never forgive myself.” 

“Oh yeah, you’re right. Never mind scratch that idea,” Harry replied quickly, the smile forming across his face regardless of his efforts. 

Gianna’s face softened after a moment, and Harry couldn’t be positive, but he was pretty sure her body moved a half an inch closer to his. 

“Thanks for stepping in with him,” she said sincerely, her big brown eyes steady on his. 

Harry swallowed discreetly, licking his lips in a force of habit. “Anytime,” he murmured, his eyes flicking across her face. 

“You didn’t have to,” Gianna replied mindlessly, her eyes falling across his face. 

“Know I didn’t.” Harry’s voice was soft, because as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he felt like his skin was on fire. 

She was so close. Her perfume invaded his senses the same way it did on the roof, it had seeped into his sheets and lingered on his skin that morning. It was all he could focus on, subconsciously pulling him closer to her. 

Although, maybe not totally subconscious at all. He knew he wanted her. He knew that after one night with her, that he wanted her again, as many times as she’d give herself to him.   

He could tell she wanted to kiss him. Fuck, he was willing her to just do it. It was like every fiber of his being was screaming for her to just connect their mouths, get lost in each other again. But he could tell she was having some sort of internal battle that held her back. 

“What are you thinking?” he asked softly, eyes peering into hers. 

She blinked back at him, the soft furrow of her brows somehow making her more attractive. He watched her mouth open and close, trying to find the words. 

“Tell me,” he murmured. 

He could feel her breath just barely brushing his lips as his eyes pulled down to the curve of her Cupid’s bow first, then the curve of her chest, before traveling the same path back again, ready to dive back into the deep brown of her eyes. 

They were cast down, the curl of her lashes on display instead, and at first Harry assumed in shame or disinterest. But they burned against his own mouth, as she took account of every curve of his lips. 

“G...” he tried once more, hoping that the movement of his lips spurred her on. 

She was about to say something, Harry could see it on every inch of her face, but then there were footsteps entering the room and the sound of her name being called that Gianna snapped back, pulling away from him so quickly that it felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. 

“Oh there you are,” Gemma said, relieved. “Your mum's going to go searching for you any minute, wanted to find you first.”

“Yeah, same,” Harry nodded as he tried to casually run a hand through the top of his hair and gently tuck a stray piece behind his ear. Only it didn’t feel casual at all, the only thing he felt was fidgety. “I’ll go distract her,” he added as he pushed his hands into the pockets of his black jeans and turned to leave. 

The truth was, he felt like he couldn’t breath and he wasn’t even quite sure why. Gianna was hard to read, she was really good at bottling things up which left him completely unsure where he stood. She told him she wasn’t interested, and he understood why. Things could get complicated and that was the last thing she needed in her life at the moment. But then she looked at him like that, and her eyes - reluctant but burning into his skin - said something completely different. 

He wasn’t going to push her, though.  She needed a friend and that was what he was going to be to her.  So he went to Lisa’s side and talked her ear off about a recent show he had watched on Discovery, and watched with a small smirk as Gianna’s mum pretended to be interested.  

Luckily, the rest of the party went on as normal. And even more so, Gianna and Harry didn’t have a moment alone together until the goodbyes. There was the slightest bit of hesitancy when they went to leave a kiss on each other's cheeks, something they and their families always did when parting ways.  

It was a blip of a moment really, but it was enough to have chills running across Gianna’s skin just from the barely there scruff of Harry’s cheek brushing hers. He gave a small, but reassuring smile when he pulled away, a soft squeeze of her arm just before he followed Gemma out the door. 

It was insane, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him the rest of the night. While she helped her parents clean up, while they talked her ear off about their upcoming travel plans, while she finally peeled herself away from them at nearly midnight, while she drove back to Gemma and Harry’s place, while she tiptoed inside and locked up behind her. 

“Hey,” Gemma called from where she was curled up on the couch in front of the tv. “Rest of the night go okay?” 

“Oh, yeah. The usual really.” Gianna sighed as she slipped her studded heels off, her limbs feeling heavy from the long day. 

“I’ll be out of your bedroom in a mo, this is almost over,” Gemma said half heartedly, eyes still trained on the tv. 

Gianna didn’t bother with a response, but instead wandered down the hallway to Gemma’s room to steal some clothes. She couldn’t help but glance at Harry’s bedroom door, the light peeking through the bottom like a temptation. 

She wondered what he was doing in there as she changed, if he heard her come in, if he could sense her in the proximity somehow.  Her fingertips prickled with curiosity and her mind tiptoed along the ledge of “what if” and “maybe” and “why not”.  

He offered.  All she had to do was accept.  

When she stepped out of Gemma’s room with an oversized white tee shirt and minty fresh teeth, she immediately noticed that Harry’s light was no longer illuminating the edges of his door, the room seemingly pitch black.  

Maybe that was a sign from the universe or something.  Maybe, she thought, she should just quit while she’s ahead.  

Her makeshift bed was all ready for her in the living room, Gemma having neatly arranged blankets and pillows on the couch where she was previously sitting.  That was one thing about both of the Style’s siblings, they never made you feel unwelcome. 

“Alright love, let me know if you need anything,” Gemma spoke as she placed her empty tea cup in the sink.  

“Thanks, Gems. Seriously. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”  

Gemma smiled warmly as she walked over, wrapping Gianna in a quick hug before heading for the hallway.  

“Oh,” she turned around quickly, “Harry spoke to Steve after we left.”  

Gianna’s heart stopped, bracing herself for whatever transpired between them.  “How bad was it?”  

“Eh,” Gemma shrugged, chuckling lightly as she continued. “Harry yelled a lot, but he’ll be gone for a few hours tomorrow morning so you can go get your stuff. We’ll go with you to help.”  

Gianna released a heavy sigh, overwhelmed with her friend's generosity. “You guys don’t have to do that.”  

“Too bad because we are,” Gemma quickly replied. “Harry told Steve he was coming with you anyway, just in case he decides to try anything like what went on today. Plus, the more hands means the faster you can get out of there.”  

Gianna gave her a pouty smile.  

“Don’t look at me like that,” Gemma laughed. “You would do the same for me.” 

“I would,” she agreed.  

“Besides, Harry’s the one that made it happen. He just told me the plan before he went to bed.”  Gemma smoothed down the baby hairs sticking up at the front of Gianna’s hairline, a small, sympathetic smile on her face. “I love you, get some sleep.”  

Gianna didn’t know what she did to deserve a friend like Gemma, but she was grateful every single day for whatever cosmic blip happened in the universe to force them together. 

“Love you,” Gianna murmured as she watched Gemma head for her room, finding herself standing completely still as she watched her bedroom door close softly at the end of the hall.  

And then she was left in silence with nothing but her thoughts. Which if anyone could hear inside her brain, they’d know they were anything but silent.  

She went to plop down on the couch, letting out a long, deep sigh as she sunk into the cushions.  

Harry didn’t need to put his neck out like that, but he did. His exact reasoning, Gianna wasn’t sure. But he appeared beside her at that party like it was second nature. He took it upon himself to find a way for her to safely get her things from her former home, and she was grateful. He was a good friend. She knew that already, but it was even more prominent now.  

She thought starting something with Harry would be harder on her than not. She thought she didn’t need the added stress.  But he never showed any indication that he would make anything stressful for her. If anything, the only thing he showed was the opposite.  

A distraction, an escape, a good time.   

That was all she needed right now.  And in a way, that was exactly what Harry was offering.  

So she pulled herself up from the couch with purpose, and padded down the hall to the door on the right with her heart beating wildly in her chest.  Her fingers brushed along the grain of wood, a last chance effort to back away with none the wiser.  

But she didn’t want to.  As ridiculous as it seemed, Harry made her feel something that she desperately needed at the moment.  

So she jumped.  

It was the softest tap, her knuckle meeting the wood so lightly she was positive he wouldn’t even hear it.  Her breath was shaky as she did it again, this time the tiniest bit harder, more sure.  

There was no sign of movement behind the door.  She waited with baited breath, tapping her knuckles a third time, squeezing her eyes closed, begging for Gemma not to hear.  

But nothing.  No sound, no movement, no Harry.  

Maybe he had snuck out at some point, while she was changing perhaps.  Or maybe he had decided she was right after all, that this - she - was too complicated for him right now.  

She drew one last small pattern on the door, her temple pressed against the framing before she dropped her hand and pulled away.  

And then in a moment of pure heart stopping relief, the door swung open and a large hand wrapped around her forearm, tugging her inside the dark room so quickly she felt lightheaded.  

Her back was pressed up against the wall beside the door as Harry eased it closed quietly.  Gianna caught her breath, her chest rising and falling sharply as she took him in.  He was in nothing but boxer briefs sitting low on his hips, his hair pulled up in a bun, his skin reflecting against the light of the muted tv in the corner of his room.  His bed was unmade, the spot he was previously occupying obvious, what with blankets thrown to the one corner and pillows propped up against the center of the headboard.  

Harry was looking at her expectantly when she turned her face back to him, but he didn’t say anything, eyes simply scanning the features of Gianna’s face.  

“How’d you know it was me?” Gianna murmured softly. 

“I didn’t.”  His tone was neutral, but his eyes were blazing, even in the darkness.  

She couldn’t pull her eyes from him, and all she could think about was taking the half a step needed to be pressed against his soft skin. 

“Hoped it was,” Harry added after a beat of silence, his eyes falling to her mouth. “Didn’t know, but hoped.” 

The words barely made their way from his lips before Gianna was taking the small step to connect their mouths.  And it was as if  Harry was waiting for it, because his hand immediately cupped her jaw as he took his own step, her back pressing against the wall once more.  

His lips were warm, and they tasted familiar this time. That thought surprised Gianna somehow - this wasn’t the first time, and although it was new, it was comforting in a way she wouldn’t be able to explain if she tried.  

He kissed her with his entire body, every inch of him pressed tightly against her, pinning her to the wall.  His tongue teased her bottom lip, and without second thought, she met him with her own, sparks shooting across her skin in the form of goosebumps and anticipation.  

The soft groan that escaped his throat as he pulled her even closer lit her on fire, his fingers digging harder into the soft curves of her hips.  

“Fuck, I want you,” Harry sighed breathlessly, his lips trailing across Gianna’s jaw and down her neck.  

She scratched her nails down his back, his body only pressing against hers more in response. “Want you too,” she whispered, like it was a confession, as if her actions hadn’t already exposed her.  

His lips burned against her throat, sucking deliberate kisses to her sensitive skin as his hands smoothed up and down her sides, gripping here, pulling there. She could feel him, hard and needy against her pelvis, and it made her stomach twist with desire. 

“This has to stay between us,” Gianna spoke gently up to the ceiling. “No one can know.”  

“Good,” Harry stamped a kiss to her jaw, pulling her face to his by the back of her neck, his lips brushing hers with his words. “Can be our secret.”  

And it was, he made sure of it.  No one would know what went on between them under the darkness of the night, hidden behind the walls of his room, disguised behind their eyes in the daylight.  

It would just be theirs, whatever it was, for as long as Harry could help it.  

But that’s the thing about secrets… they always find a way out.  

a/n: *nervous laughter* Heyyy guysss lol so! There we have it! It’s happening, it’s fine, everything’s fine. The biggest thanks to the best babes @andwhenshesays​ @oh-honey-styles​ @harrytheehottie​ @real-work-of-art​ @haute-romance-quotidienne​ @all-things-fic​ for the comments and laughs and support and encouragement - you guys are the real ones. I hope everyone enjoyed this one! Much more to come *more nervous laughter* lol thank you for reading! I hope you’ve had a great friday! xxx 

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[forever-rogue]

Congrats on the milestone!!! I found your blog thanks to "In Name Only"- haven't read an Oberyn fanfic that good in years!!! <3 <3 Buuuut could I have one with Javi, pretty please? :3 “Why aren’t you with her?”; But because I've seen you're already done some with Javier and maybe you'd like sth else: Din “ I thought we were family!”. Happy New Year!!!!

So, I had to go with Javier on this because I am in it for him 💕

Javier Peña x Fem!Reader ; warnings: language

Javier Masterlist 

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Oh no, no, no,” Javier shook his head fervently as he picked up his glass of whiskey, downing it in one go before he took a long drag of his cigarette. He seemed amused as he spoke in rapid Spanish to his companion for the evening, a man you hadn’t met before. A small smile tugged on your features as you noticed just how relaxed he seemed for once; normally he was tense and tired, just like you and Steve as well. It had been a last minute decision to come here for a drink by yourself, and you definitely hadn’t expected to find Javier here, but you weren’t upset in the slightest, deciding to go in and say a quick hello and see how it went. But his next words caused you to freeze in place.

“She’s nothing to me,” he commented as both burst into gruff laughter, “she’s just a kid, but good for a fuck now and then. A good rookie, but that’s it. If you want something worth your time, you know where to go.”

Your heart felt like it froze before dropping into your stomach at his words; they were so cruel and vile, laced with amusement at your expense. It didn’t long to figure out who he was talking to. Rookie? There was no one but you. Fucking every once in a while? Also you - well the two of you. But it had never been just...sex to you. It had always held so much more weight and somehow you’d thought it had for him to. 

“Move,” a man, clearly drunk, shoved you slightly as stood in the doorway, rooted in place. Your eyes were focused on Javier, and you made a small sound as you were jilted to the side. Javier’s head snapped up at the slight commotion and he paled as he noticed that it was you; shit, shit, shit. Judging by the broken hearted look on your face, he knew you had heard everything. 

You mumbled a quick apology before meeting Javier’s eyes for the briefest of moments before tearing out of the bar and out into the cold, dark street. It wasn’t but a moment before tears were spilling down your cheeks as you tried to control the sobs that threatened to rack your body. No - you weren’t going to let him or anyone see you like this. If he even cared enough to come after you and see if you were okay or what you’d heard. Judging by the cruel sharpness of his words, you highly doubted he would give the situation as much as a passing thought.

Well, you huffed lightly to yourself, dabbing at your tears with the sleeve of your sweater, no one to blame but yourself. Everyone had warned you about Javier Peña - you just hadn’t listened. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What’s wrong, Peña?” the man across the table looked at him and laughed, flagging down a nearby waitress and signaling for her to get two more beers, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Javier closed his eyes and let out a long breath, running a hand over his tired eyes. Part of him knew he should have come after you, but another part of him figured it was pointless. You’d probably never want to see his face again. It was supposed to be a quick comment to his contact, a blaise comment so the man knew to stay away from you, so you were protected - at least as much as he could ensure it. Instead he royally fucked everything up, and naturally you’d had impeccable timing. 

“Nothing,” he lied as he accepted the beer and downed half of it in one go, “nothing at all.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Part of you had wanted to call in sick to work the next day - and the rest of your days. But you’d decided that that was not the way to handle things. You were going to steel yourself and offer him as much indifference and disregard he had afforded you. May it was stupid and childish, but in the moment you didn’t care. He didn’t want anything to do with you and only viewed you as a good fuck now and then, then you would give it right back. You were finally going to take everyone’s advice and keep Javier Peña out of your personal life. At work it was unavoidable, but everywhere else, you were done with him.

“Good morning,” you offered Steve a kind smile before handing him a cup of coffee just like you did most mornings. Javier was already at his desk, pouring over paperwork, but stopping to glance up at you. Steve offered you his own greeting before eagerly accepting the coffee and getting back to work; you could feel Javier’s seeing gaze on you, but weren’t about to break down and gave into him. 

“Morning,” Javier offered, looking intently at you, as you sat down at your own desk and busied yourself with paperwork. There was a ton of it to do after last week’s raid, and that meant the three of you would be stuck at the office for the next few days. Not exactly ideal, to be stuck in close proximity with the man you desperately wanted to avoid, but you’d deal with it. You nodded and made a small, noncommittal sound. 

Steve looked between the two of you, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he realized something was wrong. Javier and yourself were normally thick as thieves, so this was a sharp contrast to what he had come to know as normal. While he didn’t know the full extent of your relationship, he knew it was more than friendly, and it didn’t long to figure out that something had happened. But he wasn’t going to push it or say anything; it wasn’t his place and he was sure that the two of you would figure it out. 

The rest of the day continued in much the same fashion...as did the day after...and the day after that. You played the role of cool and collected, not hurt and unphased by anything, while Javier felt like he was slowly breaking down. He just wanted to speak to you for just a moment, to explain what had happened and that none of it was true - he’d never meant to hurt. He’d just wanted to protect you. 

By Friday evening, he couldn’t handle it anymore; he needed to explain himself, to just get you to listen for a few minutes. Whether or not you chose to believe him would be another case.

“Dulzura-”

“I have a name, Javier,” you snapped at him, trying to push past him and head out of the office for the weekend. You’d planned to meet up with Connie to grab a drink, a much needed girls’ night, and that didn’t include Javier. You’d spent all week trying to get up and over him, and even though you weren’t sure it had worked, you liked the illusion that it did. 

But the seasoned agent was quick, and was able to grab your wrist and keep you from walking away. You looked at him, a frown on your features as you tried to pull out of his grasp, but he was stubborn and steadfast and didn’t release you. 

“We need to talk,” he insisted softly as you huffed impatiently. You didn’t dare to meet his eyes for fear of breaking down and giving in to him. Instead you stared at your feet and wished the ground would open and swallow you whole.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you hissed, the venom in your voice causing him to recoil, “you made that crystal clear. I’m just...what did you call? A good fuck every now and then? What could you - the wonderful most amazing agent - possibly want with me? A rookie?”

“You need to listen and let me explain-”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you’d caught him off guard and he dropped your wrist, allowing you to pull out of his grasp and take a step away, "if you thought that's all I was you could have made it clear. I never...I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I should have listened, huh? Stay away from Javier Peña and I was just thinking dumb rookie that didn't listen. Joke's on me, right?"

"That's not - that's never what this was. Not to me," he insisted as you'd started to walk, causing you to stop dead in your tracks. Slowly turning around, you cocked your head to the side in confusion, "that's not what this started out as or what I wanted."

"Oh really?" you were stuck somewhere between shock and disbelief as you laughed bitterly, "do you mean it or are you saying that because you're trying to look good? Is that what you tell all the girls when you want them to get back in your bed?"

"Would you just stop and listen to me for one fucking moment?!" the sharpness of his tone caused you to look at him in surprise, "I've been trying to talk to you all week and you've been avoiding me like I've got the fucking plague. You won't even look at me."

"You broke my fucking heart!" you yelled back at him, feeling something snap within you as a few tears rolled down your cheeks, "and the worst thing? I was never even supposed to know. You couldn't even tell me to my fucking face! Was I supposed to find out or just be a laughingstock for you and your buddies? Or what about your informants? Why aren't you with her?"

"Stop! Just let me talk and listen for a moment," he ran his hands over his face as he groaned in annoyance, "fuck - if you never do anything else just please listen now. A few minutes is all I'm asking for."

"Fine," you agreed quietly, crossing your arms over your chest as you quirked an eyebrow, "you've got five minutes."

"You weren't supposed to hear those things I said," he agreed with a heavy sigh, as you tried not to sniffle too loudly at his declaration, "because it wasn't true - not in the way you think."

"How...what-?"

"My turn to talk," he reminded you, "your turn to listen. That man I was with...he's not a good man, Dulzura. He's an informant, but that doesn't mean he has any honor or virtue. If he knew you were mine, or anything if the sort, he would have used that against me in a heartbeat. He's not a good man. And all I wanted to do was protect you. The only way I could think to do that was to make it seem like I didn't care - if you don't matter he won't think twice about you. If he knew even a fraction of how much you mean to me, you'd be his first target if the tables ever turned. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"Javier…" at some point your mouth had dropped and your mind was reeling as you tried to figure out what was going on. Had you really jumped to the worst conclusion with knowing only half of the story? He leaned against the door-frame and let out a long sigh, "do you...really?"

"I just wanted to protect you," he confirmed with a small nod, "I didn't mean for you to hear it because none of it was true. Of all the times for you to walk into that shitty bar...amazing timing, Dulzura. I'm sorry you had to hear it, especially since none of it was true."

"Wait," you looked at him with wide eyes as your heart sank when you realized you'd been giving him the cold shoulder for no reason. You felt like a fool; you should have known better than just to give into your flighty emotions. You knew Javier - the real Javier. You should have known you could have trusted him - talked to him from the start. But...shit.

"I would have told you that already if you'd just let me talk and not run away every time you saw me," he admitted with a shrug, "maybe it wasn't the best way to say it but I just...I want to keep you safe. Always."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

And just like that, you threw your arms around his neck and pulled him close before crashing your lips onto his. He kissed you back without hesitation, his strong arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you close. 

"What if someone sees?" you suddenly remembered between kisses as grinned at him. He shook his head and easily played it off.

"Doesn't matter," he insisted as he kissed you softly, this particular kiss filled with more longing and saccharine intensity, "I'll protect you. I'm sorry for how things seemed. I would never mean anything like that."

"I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions," you whispered softly, sneaking in a few more kisses, "I should have known better. I should have just come to you."

"Next time," he insisted as he gently touched your face, "Dulzura - you know how much I…"

"I know, Javier. Now I truly know," you grinned at him, "me too."

"Want to get out of here?"

"Sorry babe," you teased, "its girls night. I would not be opposed, however, if my two favorite partners happened to make a surprise appearance at the same bar…"

"See you soon," he grinned, "and then you're all mine."

"I'm counting on that."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[iam93percentstardust]

Stony, 18+, Steve just likes to fuck Tony is his fancy cars

Ta-da!

As always, everything I write is on ao3 too

~

If asked, Tony would say that there are many benefits to dating a billionaire.

He learned that from the people he’s dated: Tiberius, who was in it for the fame; Sunset for the money; Rumiko for the… well, Tony wasn’t actually sure what Rumiko got out of the deal but she must have gotten it because two days before their first anniversary, he’d found her with Tiberius of all people.

But then there was Steve. Steve, who was too good for him, who Tony had met at the opening of his first exhibit and fallen in love with after a single evening, who held him like he was something precious and not something that a thousand other people had used. Steve, who had been asked about the benefits of dating a billionaire and, after he’d punched the reporter, coolly informed her that the billionaire was the benefit.

Which.

Well.

No one said things like that.

But Steve did. And he believed it. He really truly felt that the best thing to come out of their relationship was Tony himself. Tony loved him for that. Well. He loved him for lots of reasons—his innate goodness and his big heart only two of them—but the fact that Steve loved Tony for Tony was pretty high up there.

It was a little difficult sometimes when Tony was used to throwing money at his partners to make up for his mistakes, used to paying for everything, used to wielding his power to get them what they wanted, and Steve would just turn all of that away instead of accepting the extravagant gifts and favors, but they made it work. Steve made him want to make it work, and Tony would do just about anything to keep them this way. He knew that Steve was the same way about him: willing to do whatever it takes to make Tony happy, to make them work.

Anyway—Steve’s opinion was that dating Tony was the best part about dating a billionaire, but if Tony had to pick one other thing that Steve enjoyed, it was the cars.

Steve’s preferred mode of transportation was the motorcycle his mom had gotten for him, of course, but he adored Tony’s garage of cars, particularly the ones that went fast. Tony had never met a speed demon like Steve before, and he loved taking him out to Highway 1 in the middle of the night, when no one else was on the road, and watching the look on Steve’s face as Steve pressed down on the accelerator and kept his foot there as they whipped around curves at twice the recommended speed.

It was the hottest thing Tony had ever seen, second to none. He never had a single problem with Steve screeching to a stop at one of the scenic outlooks, tossing Tony into the backseat, and fucking him until he screamed—because if there was one thing Steve loved more than the cars, it was Tony with the cars.

“Look how gorgeous you are,” Steve murmured, running a reverent hand down Tony’s heaving side.

Tony whined, hands twisting in the silk tie keeping him pinned to the door handle. He’d known when Steve had insisted on taking the Aston Martin out that the night was going to end like this. Steve only wanted the four-seaters when he wanted to fuck Tony in them. But this—tying Tony to the door handle while he fucked him just slow enough to keep him on the edge instead of tipping over—that was new. He hadn’t even taken Tony’s panties off, not that he’d needed to—they were designed for easy access and to look pretty and that was about it—but it was the principle of the thing.

“Steve,” Tony whined. “Move.”

Steve just chuckled darkly, bending down to bite a mark into Tony’s throat. Tony keened, arching his neck to give Steve greater access. “It’s cute that you think you can make me do what you want,” he said. And then he pulled out, that ass.

“No,” Tony gasped, hands straining in their bonds to reach for Steve, pull him back in so he has to fuck him. But he couldn’t. Steve was too good at knots for that, damned boy scout.

Steve knelt up as best as he could with the low ceiling, hand stroking his cock lazily. “Could get off right now,” he threatened. “Could spill all over that pretty red lace and leave you like that, all hard and aching for it.”

“You wouldn’t,” Tony replied, despite knowing that Steve absolutely would. Most of the time, Steve was the most generous lover in the world, seeing to Tony’s needs before his own, making sure that they both came at least twice, holding him as close as Tony wanted afterward. But then there were times like tonight, when Steve could be mean. Tony loved both sides of Steve equally, he really did, but he loved getting to come too.

Steve’s eyes gleamed dark and hard in the scant moonlight filtering in through the tinted windows. “Are you challenging me, sweetheart?” he asked, voice silky smooth. Tony shivered and then mewled when Steve palmed his cock through the lace. It scratched against his cock, catching on the sensitive skin and making him arch up into the touch.

“’s too much,” he cried. “Steve, baby, please.”

Steve’s hand was off of him in an instant, back to stroking himself as he stared down at Tony. “You sound so good, Tony,” he groaned, adding a twist at the end of each stroke. “Look so good too, all pretty as a picture spread out on those expensive seats, not even caring if you ruin them. Bet I could make you spill across all that fancy leather, tell you to clean it up with your tongue, and you’d do it too, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

Tony whined, the leg not pinned against the back of the seat coming up to hook around Steve’s leg in a futile attempt to tug him back down. He would do it, he knew. He’d do anything that Steve asked of him, even if he knew that this in particular was an empty threat. Steve wouldn’t make him lick anything if he didn’t know what else had touched it. But the thought, the picture Steve’s words painted of licking his own come off three-thousand dollar seats, had him arching again.

“Please,” he begged. “Please, Steve, fuck me, come inside me, please.”

“Is that what you want? Want me filling you up?” Steve shoved two fingers inside his empty hole, rubbing firmly against his prostate. Tony hissed, pushing back into them. His cock was leaking, so ready to spill if Steve would just—Steve pulled his fingers back out and Tony nearly sobbed.

“Your cock, baby. Want your cock.”

Steve’s face softened almost imperceptibly. He leaned down to brush a sweet kiss across Tony’s open, panting mouth. “Okay, sweetheart,” he said and pushed back in, drawing a long moan from Tony as Steve filled him all over again.

Steve set a punishing pace, hips slapping lewdly against Tony’s ass. The windows had long since fogged up, Tony noticed as he threw his head back, and he admired the droplets rolling down the glass for a moment before a hard thrust brought him back into the moment.

“Feel so good around me,” Steve grunted, licking a stripe up the side of Tony’s neck. Tony deliberately tightened around him, making him moan loudly. “Could be in you all day, coming inside you over and over again ‘til you’re as full as you want. You could take me, couldn’t you, sweetheart?”

Tony whined loudly, hands clenching on the tie. He would die, but if that was what Steve wanted, he would do it.

“That’s right,” Steve crooned, nuzzling his throat. “You’d take whatever I gave you, Tony. Feel so—ah!—sweetheart!”

His hips jerked against Tony twice more before he came with a shout. Tony could feel him coming inside his loose hole and he twisted, desperate to come as well. But Steve stilled him with a hand on his hip, petting him soothingly as Tony backed away from that edge again. He pulled out slowly, letting Tony feel every inch of his softening cock.

Tony could feel Steve’s come dripping out of him, sliding down to stain the leather seats and the back of his panties. He clenched, trying to hold it all inside him, but it was hard when Steve was still holding his legs apart so he could thumb at the rim of his hole. Steve made an approving noise and then leaned over him again to kiss him, lips sliding softly against Tony’s.

“You look so used, sweetheart,” Steve whispered. “All puffy and red, my come sliding out of you cause you’re just too tired to hold it in.”

Tony whispered back, “Empty.”

“I know. I’ve got something to help.” Steve reached over into the front seat, rummaging around for a moment before he made a triumphant sound and came back with something hidden in his hand. Tony got the barest glimpse of red and gold and he groaned, thinking about the plug Steve had to be holding. It was the perfect size to tease his prostate and it vibrated. He couldn’t imagine wearing it all the way back to the mansion, but he let Steve slide it in him anyway, not even bothering to put up a token protest.

“You still okay?” Steve asked, smoothing Tony’s sweaty hair away from his face. Tony turned his head just enough to kiss Steve’s palm and then nodded. “You want me to turn it on while we drive so you can come or do you want to wait until we’re back to the house so I can fuck you again?”

“Wait.” Tony knew he sounded exhausted—who wouldn’t when they had someone as incredible as Steve wearing them out?  Steve smiled and kissed him again.

“Okay, sweetheart.” Steve picked him up and slid him into the passenger seat, chuckling as Tony cried out when the plug jostled against his sensitive prostate. He pulled his own pants back up and got out, retrieving a blanket from the trunk to throw over Tony’s naked body before sliding into the driver’s seat. “You still sure about that?”

Tony weighed the benefits of coming now or waiting until Steve fucked him and nodded decisively. “Just don’t hit every pothole on the way home.”

Steve shot him a wicked grin and revved the engine. The vibrations shot straight up through the plug, thrumming through Tony’s body. Tony arched up out of his seat, sobbing at the feeling.

“Oh, Tony,” Steve murmured, pulling out of the overlook and back onto the highway. “I don’t need to hit every pothole.” He pressed the accelerator down to the floor and sped away.