#kind of implied steve x reader

[supernovafics]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k words

summary: in which you and steve are not together, but sometimes— most of the time— you two find your way to each other. it all feels surprisingly okay until the guilt starts to sink in 

warnings: explicit language, cheating (both reader and steve are cheating on their partners), implied smut, a bit of drunk!steve, a lot of angst

author’s note: i love when i get an idea and it consumes my brain so much that i simply cannot do anything except write it lol enjoy this thing that may or may not eventually get a part two<3 idk<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You were starting to feel bad about it. Not bad enough to stop it, but bad nonetheless. 

In the end, when this inevitably blew up, a lot of people would be affected, but when you were alone with Steve you found it too hard to force yourself to care about all of that. When you two were alone in your car in the middle of the night or alone in his bedroom because his parents weren’t home, you never cared about just how terrible all of this was.  

That was why it wasn’t until you were walking down the hallway hand in hand with your boyfriend and you spotted Steve and Nancy lingering by what you could only assume was her locker and she was smiling so happily up at him, that you finally felt a little bad. 

You looked away quickly and pretended as if you hadn’t seen them in the first place; pushing his face and especially hers far out of your mind. Instead, you focused on Jamie and listened as he talked about a history test on Friday that he didn’t feel prepared for and how his parents would go ballistic if he didn’t pass. You promised to help him study later tonight— like you always did, from the moment you two met and became friends in seventh grade— and he smiled, leaning down to peck your lips as he called you the best. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You really didn’t like thinking about how everything started with Steve. In your head, you were okay with simplifying it to one day you weren’t cheating on your boyfriend with Steve Harrington and the next day you were. Somehow that thought process made it easier; it made what you and Steve were doing feel more mindless than it actually was. 

But, just because you didn’t like thinking about the beginning didn’t change how it happened. 

It was a New Year’s Eve party at Sam Richards' house. 

You’d shown up alone because Jamie was out of town with family and had been since Christmas. Initially, you were supposed to go with them, but then at the last second, your parents decided to be festive and wanted you to be home for Christmas and the entirety of the holiday break. Weirdly enough, though, it hadn’t been as unbearable as you thought it would be.

However, you were on your own for New Year’s because your dad had a work party that was “adults only.” You honestly didn’t mind though because the thought of being stuck with a bunch of random middle-aged people sounded horrible. So, you instead decided to get stuck with a bunch of people your age, which maybe was just a different kind of bad. 

You heard about the party through a friend of a friend who didn’t even show up. The party was rowdy and boring, which were two words that probably didn’t make sense in the same sentence, but in this instance they surprisingly did.

Eventually, you ended up sitting on the rusty old swing set in the backyard, away from the music and drunk teens. Your sneaker-covered feet pushed into the grass, making you swing a little. You didn’t want to do too much because, with the amount of squeaking the swing was making, it felt as if it was on its last few days of life. 

Because of that squeaking and the fact that you were looking at the ground, you didn’t hear or see Steve walk up to you. 

You noticed him when he was only a few feet away, and you were more confused than startled when he sat down in the open swing next to you. 

“Two minutes to midnight.”

Those were not the first words Steve Harrington had ever said to you. Instead, those had been, “So what do we have to do?” after you two got paired up on a project for English last year. It was two weeks worth of meetups in the library that led to you two getting a B+ and never speaking again. 

Until now, apparently. 

“Fun,” You said because what else were you supposed to say? This entire moment didn’t really make a lot of sense to you.

You looked at Steve sitting next to you. The swing continued to squeak as he started lightly rocking back and forth. The second he met your gaze, you looked away. 

“Where's your boyfriend? Jessie something, right?”

“Jamie,” You corrected him. “He's out of town with family for the holidays. Where's your girlfriend? Mary something?”

You knew it was Nancy. Everyone knew it was Nancy. They were the talk of the school and a cliche case— smart girl falling for the popular guy, also known as the plot to one too many romcoms. 

For some reason, though, you didn’t want Steve to know that you inadvertently paid attention to him just like everyone else at your school. 

“Nancy,” He corrected you. “And she’s also at some family thing.”

You only nodded in response and things became quiet.  

“Y’know, apparently it’s bad luck to not kiss someone when the clock strikes twelve,” Steve said, filling the air of silence.

You ignored his random tidbit, which you weren’t sure was real or not. “Why did you come out here?”

His shoulders upturned in a quick shrug. “You looked bored out here. And I was bored in there.”

You could faintly hear the countdown start in the living room, everyone starting from sixty. 

The next words that should have left your lips should’ve been, “I have a boyfriend. I can't kiss you.” But, instead, you didn’t protest when Steve silently took hold of the chain of your swing and pulled it toward him so that you two were closer. 

You could’ve changed your mind and pushed him away, you should’ve changed your mind and pushed him away, but you decided not to think about it too much. When you heard the countdown get to one and everyone followed up by shouting, “Happy New Year!”, you were inwardly saying fuck it and kissing Steve Harrington in Sam Richards’ backyard. 

It was meant to be innocent, a simple peck just so you both could avoid this “bad luck” that Steve talked about, and it was completely innocent and chaste at first. Until your hand impulsively found Steve's cheek and you deepened the kiss and he didn’t stop you. 

He tasted like cigarettes and champagne, a surprisingly comforting combo, and his free hand moved to your waist, slipping underneath your coat and knit sweater. The feeling of his cold hand against your skin made you inadvertently shiver; you’d forgotten just how cold it was outside. 

“Sorry,” He muttered against your lips. 

It was the first word spoken in the last minute and it somehow managed to wake your mind up and made your thoughts finally start catching up to what was happening in this moment. You quickly realized that anyone could potentially see you two out here and even though the party inside sounded just as loud and lively as it had earlier, it was still a possibility that you two could get caught. 

You pulled back from the kiss and met Steve’s gaze. “We can’t do this here.”

It was the ‘here’ part of your sentence that fully piqued Steve’s interest. 

He stood up from the swing and reached his hand out for you to grab. “Come on.”

You slipped your hand in his and let him lead you out of the backyard and away from the house completely. It took you way too long to realize that he was taking you to his car that was parked down the street. He pulled the backseat door open and let you get inside first. 

You forced yourself not to think about anything aside from how good Steve’s mouth felt on yours and how you liked feeling his cold hands against your skin, traveling from your hips to your waist to your back and pulling you closer to him. 

Seconds blended into minutes and you suddenly weren’t sure how long you’d been in his backseat and how long you had kept nearly bumping your head against the roof every time you slightly shifted in his lap.    

It didn’t make sense to you how okay this all felt. You hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to Steve since last year, and yet you felt entirely comfortable with him right here in this moment.

It didn’t make sense that night and it also didn’t make sense the one after that when you saw him again and you two did a lot more than just make out in the backseat of his car. 

However, what did feel certain was the fact that everything suddenly happening between you two wasn’t meant to be anything more. You knew that you and Steve wouldn’t make sense in the daytime or in the real world. He made sense with Nancy and you made sense with Jamie. That was just the way things worked and both of you unspokenly agreed on that. 

It was only in private when you two surprisingly did make sense, and in some ways, it felt like a no-brainer. Of course, you’d see Steve most nights and during fleeting moments at school. Of course, you’d kiss or do more with him for what felt like hours in his house or your own car. Of course, you’d feel comfortable in his bed with his arms wrapped around you as you two ended up talking about nothing for hours. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You found the note in your locker halfway through third period. You asked your History teacher if you could go to the bathroom and then you headed to your locker instead of the bathrooms that were in the opposite direction because you just knew that something would be in it. 

Meet me. Bathroom. – Steve

The first time he sent a note that basically resembled that one, you laughed because how the hell were you supposed to know what bathroom he meant or when? 

And that was exactly what you told him that night when you two were in your car and he playfully pouted at you, asking why he didn’t get to see you at school. And then he let out a soft “Oh” with his own laugh when he realized that you were right and he didn’t tell you where to go or give you a time. 

From there on out, the bathroom by the gym became your and Steve's meeting place. It was usually always empty because most people opted for using the bathrooms in the gym locker rooms since they were bigger.  

After the first few times you met him there, there was really no reason for Steve to leave notes for you because the place and time was always the same, but you still kind of liked that he did. 

When you walked in at the start of sixth period instead of going to study hall, Steve was already leaning against the sink. 

He smiled when he saw you and you couldn’t help but think that that was the same smile that he’d been giving Nancy earlier; it was the same one he probably always gave her, his girlfriend. 

There was no greeting; no softly spoken “Hi’s” or anything. Instead, Steve was pulling you close and slotting his lips against yours and then shifting you two around so that you were pressed against the sink.

You savored it just for a second before you pulled away. 

“Wait,” You abruptly started and put your hands on his chest to put some distance between you two. “I, um, I think we should stop this.”

Apparently, you were feeling more than just a little bad about everything. 

Steve’s hands fell from your hips and it was easy to read the surprised look on his face, which definitely made sense because it did seem as if your words were coming entirely out of left field. 

“Oh,” He said. The surprised look fell from his face after the quickest moment. “Oh, okay. Yeah, that’s fine.”

His nonchalance toward the situation made it all feel a thousand times easier. Maybe he didn’t really care about all of this, and that should’ve made you feel okay and good and perfectly fine, but if you were being entirely honest with yourself it didn’t make you feel any of that. 

“Okay, cool,” You responded with a forced smile instead of taking your words back or doing anything else about them. “Good to know we’re on the same page.”

He gave you a quick nod. “Yeah.” 

For a second, it was hard to do what you needed to do next, but then you were finally moving away from Steve. No sort of “Goodbye” fell from your lips because it weirdly felt too hard to say the word right then.

Keep walking. Keep walking. Keep walking. 

The two words played on repeat in your head as you forced yourself to leave the bathroom. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Steve was throwing rocks at your window. You didn’t even have to look to know it was him. There was no one else it could be. 

Jamie knocked and walked through your front door like a normal person, and then he’d talk to your parents for the obligatory amount of time that was considered polite (even after being friends for so long and then dating for that past year he was still kinda scared of your dad), and then he’d greet you. 

He would not throw rocks at your window. 

The smallest part of you was glad that Steve was at least doing this now instead of ten minutes earlier when Jamie was still here studying because that would’ve ruined everything for you. However, Steve being here now still pissed you off nonetheless. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” You whisper-yelled when you were standing in front of him in your front yard. You adjusted the hoodie that you haphazardly slipped on in your quick race down the stairs. “My parents are home.”

If he really wanted to, he could’ve called you out on how bad of an excuse that was because there had been many prior moments where your parents' presence hadn’t been that concerning to you. It wasn’t like they checked on you periodically throughout the night, so if you left in the middle of the night, all you had to do was make sure you were back by morning. 

Steve didn’t remind you of any of that, though. Instead, he said, “I just— I just wanted to tell you something.”

There was something about the way he was talking and his stance right then that made you give him a look. “Are you drunk?”

He answered with the most unconvincing “No” ever and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. 

“How did you get here?”

“Walked,” he answered and you nodded, relieved that he didn’t drive, and then you felt kind of annoyed for caring. You really didn’t want to care about him anymore. 

“So… you, uh, wanted to tell me something?” You asked him. The faster the conversation started, the faster it could be over and he could leave your front yard. 

“Oh, yeah,” He nodded. “I just— I wish you hadn’t ended things with us today.” 

His words confused you because he had seemed perfectly fine about it all earlier. Your eyebrows furrowed. “But, we agreed—“

“I know,” He interrupted you. “I know, and I get it, I guess. But, I just don’t want you to think that it’s easy for me to let you and what we had go. It isn't easy. At all. I didn’t realize how much I really like you and how much I love what we had until you decided to end it.”

You wondered if he was only admitting that because he was drunk; maybe he wouldn’t have said any of that to you otherwise. But, either way, at least he had the guts to say what you’d been too scared to. You hadn’t even really admitted it to yourself, how much you liked and cared about him. As much as you wanted to pretend that what you two had been doing was mindless and didn’t really mean anything, it was actually the complete opposite; of course, it was.

You still had to look away from him in this moment, though, because you weren’t drunk and it felt too hard to admit the truth like he was. “Steve…”

“What changed?” He asked after a moment of what felt like unbearable silence. “Yesterday, we were fine, right?”

You refused to answer his questions because you really didn’t want to rehash everything right then; how your suddenly guilty brain made you impulsively end things with him. You honestly wanted to just forget about everything. 

You shook your head as you sighed. “Let me drive you home, Steve.”

Your words were soft, probably too soft. You wanted to be mean to him, you wanted to push him away; you knew that it would make things easier. But, you couldn’t. 

“Can we walk?”

“Sure, but if you stumble and fall I'm not picking you up.”

He laughed a little as he nodded. “Understandable.” 

You shouldn’t be joking with him, you shouldn’t even be talking to him, but here you were. 

Things were quiet for a few moments, and you figured that maybe this ten-minute walk wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe it would stay silent and you’d say an actual final goodbye to him once you were at his front door and then you two would never talk again; essentially a sort of repeat of what happened last year in English class.

“So, can I know what happened?” Steve asked, breaking the quiet and ruining what you had hoped would happen for the next ten minutes. Apparently, he wasn’t going to let this go until you either told him the truth about what was going on in your head or lied about it all. 

You let out a long breath; you couldn’t find it in you to lie to him in this moment. “I finally realized that we’re shitty people for doing this.” Steve didn’t say anything at first so you took that as your cue to keep going. “You love Nancy and I love Jamie and everything that we’ve been doing for the past month isn’t fair to them and it’s so fucked up. We’re selfish and terrible people, and I kinda hate that this ever started in the first place.”

Finally saying it all out loud made it feel a thousand times more real and certain to you. At least, most of it felt that way. You knew just how shitty all of this was, but you weren’t sure if you’d ever completely regret any of it happening. 

“You don’t love him, though,” Steve said. “At least that’s what you told me that one night.”

You were now learning that Steve Harrington was a good listener, and even with his current inebriation, his memory was still surprisingly good too. 

“That doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change how horrible I feel about all of this.”

You were talking, but all you could think about was the conversation that Steve was referring to. A post-sex conversation that you two had a few weeks ago as you and him were half-naked in the backseat of your car that was parked at Lovers Lake. 

It doesn’t feel right anymore, and I don’t know, maybe it never fully did. I just want to go back to how things were before. But, it feels impossible to tell him any of that. He really loves me, and even though I don't feel the same way anymore, I don’t want to hurt him or break his heart. He's still my best friend. I'll always love him like that. 

It was hard to remember what Steve said in response to that or if he even said anything at all. All you could remember was that the second the words left your mouth, you wanted to forget about it. You’d been way too honest, saying things that you had never admitted out loud before, but somehow you were admitting them to Steve.  

“You’re right,” He said to you now. “We are bad people for doing this.”

Things became quiet then because what else was there really to say? You both were in agreement. 

You two continued walking the short distance to his house. When he started going off course a bit too much, stepping on and off of people’s yards instead of staying on the sidewalk, you grabbed his hand to keep him close and steady. 

You didn’t drop it once you two were at his front door or even when he asked you to come inside. Against your better judgment, you silently let him lead you into his house. You toed off your shoes at the door like you always did and then followed him up the stairs. You told yourself that you were just making sure he made it into bed alright.

“You okay?” You asked once you two were in his room. 

You were just wondering if he was feeling dizzy or needed to throw up, but Steve took your question in an entirely different way. 

He shook his head. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

“Okay, I’m gonna miss you.”

“I…” You let out a soft sigh. “I don’t know what you want me to say to that.”

You wished that he would kick you out, or even yell at you. If he was mean to you, it’d make it easier to leave his house, to leave him. Deep down you knew that he would never do that, though.

“Why can’t we just…” He trailed off for a second, and you were certain that he forgot where he was going with his words, but then he continued. “Do this?”

“Do what?” You asked, even though you had a feeling what he meant but you hoped you were wrong. 

“Be together for real,” He said, and in an entirely different world it would’ve made you happy hearing that, but in this world his statement only made things feel so much more complicated. “We won’t be bad people anymore if we just stop lying.”

For the briefest second, you imagined saying yes and agreeing with him, and for that quick second, the thought actually sounded really nice. 

“Or we won’t be bad people anymore if we just stop everything,” You told him instead of being honest and admitting that you liked him a lot more than you had ever led on, and that even though you had wanted this to mean nothing, you had also really enjoyed the nights where you two talked for hours upon hours about anything. 

“Okay,” He said, no longer debating your words and simply accepting them for what they were.

You nodded and then the simple word fell from your lips too. “Okay.”

That was definitely your cue to leave, but you didn’t say any kind of “goodbye” and neither did Steve. It was obvious that things were different, but they didn’t entirely feel that way just yet, so that made you stay. 

“Do you want me to leave?” You asked softly after a few moments of just watching him move about his bedroom, pulling off the jacket he was wearing and hanging it on the back of his door. 

Steve shook his head, meeting your eyes again. “No, I’ll always want you to stay.”

You couldn’t help but give him a small smile and a simple nod as a way to say “Okay.” You knew that this entire interaction was sending nothing but mixed signals, but your mind was a mess of contradictions and only felt confused, and you just really didn’t want to think too much anymore. 

It was warm in his room, so you pulled off your hoodie, leaving you in just your t-shirt and shorts, and you hung it up where his jacket was on his door. Silently, you joined him at his bed, settling yourself and laying down in the spot that you’d been in more times than you could count at this point.  

“I’m sorry,” You whispered in the darkness after a while. “That things can’t be different.” 

Steve moved closer to you, slipping an arm around your waist. “They could be.”

“I know,” You finally admitted, leaning into his touch. “But, it’s just too hard.”

He didn’t ask you to elaborate on what you meant, probably because he understood or he was just tired of this constant back and forth. 

You told yourself that you’d only stay for five minutes. And when five minutes turned to ten, you told yourself that you at least wouldn’t fall asleep. 

But, of course, you did. You felt too comfortable and at ease in Steve’s arms not to.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

part two!

let me know ur thoughts<333

[scoonsalicious]

Like A Fairy Tale

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dating Bucky Barnes had been like living a fairy tale, but as he distances himself from you and your relationship, you come to the realization that maybe fairy tales aren't meant to come true.

Warnings: Language to make Steve blush, mentions of alcohol use, implied sex, angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 3.4k This is my very first posted fic, and I am very nervous but I hope you like it! If I've missed any warnings, please tell me so I can add them. Much love and thanks to my bestie @jmeelee for indulging my obsession and dropping everything to read this when I sent it to her <3 Please pardon any spelling/grammar errors.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3 I write for 18+, so minors DNI. _____________________________________________________________

Once upon a time, being Bucky Barnes’ girl had felt like living in a fairy tale. He was everything your younger self had ever dared to dream of in a Prince Charming– attentive, affectionate, kind, and oh, how he made you laugh! You were the envy of all of your friends, the very definition of #couplegoals, and you thanked your lucky stars every night that the two of you had found one another, despite all the odds.

But fairy tales aren’t real. 

You weren’t sure exactly when it started, but somewhere in the third year of your relationship, after you’d moved into a handsome brownstone in Brooklyn together, after you’d adopted a fluffy white kitten, Bucky started pulling away from you. The steps that took him from you were small at first– he was taking on more and more missions, opting to stay gone for longer periods of time. Days would go by, and they’d turn into weeks, then a month or two at a time would go by where you wouldn’t see him. 

At first, it hadn’t been terrible– Bucky had always made sure to contact you each and every day. A video call whenever he could, a phone call or text when he couldn’t, but slowly, so slowly you barely noticed, the calls stopped coming all together. Sure, he’d answer when you called him… when he could, which wasn’t always possible on a mission, and you hated acting needy and taking him away from his work, so eventually, you stopped reaching out, too. 

When he was home, you were like ships passing in the night. You always offered to take time off of work so you could spend some time with him before he was set to head out again, but he never wanted you to jeopardize your career on his account. Your reunions would always be passionate, but short-lived, a few hot and heavy nights before he took off once more to save the world. 

You tried not to let it bother you. You really, really did. His job was so important. People’s lives relied on him. Where did you get off getting upset over that? So, you kept it to yourself. Until you couldn’t. Not any more.

“Y/N,” your best friend, Lainy, cornered you at her annual New Year’s Eve party, “where’s Barnes? He’s been leaving you to go solo for months now. I don’t think I’ve seen you with him since Mark’s St. Patrick’s Day Party.”

Ouch. “He’s working, Lainy,” you told her, not wanting to admit that March had been the last time the two of you had gone out together, let alone spent more than three days in a row in each other’s company. 

“Yeah, he was ‘working’ over the Memorial Day trip, and the 4th of July BBQ, and Jack and Alice’s wedding, and your aunt’s funeral.” You cringed internally as she applied air quotes to ‘working.’ “And he was ‘working’ on your birthday, and Christmas. Babe, he’s been leaving you alone for almost an entire year. What’s going on? Are you sure there isn’t someone else?”

The worst part was, you knew there wasn’t, or at least, no one individual. When he’d first started distancing himself, of course another woman was the first thing that came to your mind, and you weren’t proud of yourself, but you’d gone through his phone to search for evidence of an affair… multiple times, and repeatedly came up with nothing. And bless Bucky’s heart, but he didn’t have the technological know-how to hide an infidelity from you. Granted, that didn’t negate the possibility that he was randomly hooking up with people while he was away. You’d have to be stupid to not consider the possibility.

You could have asked Steve. You didn’t think Captain America had it in him to lie to you about something like that, but you didn’t want him reporting on your suspicions back to Bucky, nor did you think you could stand to see the look of pity in his eye if he had to tell you that yes, Bucky was cheating on you while you anxiously awaited his return every night. So, you kept the suspicions to yourself. 

Your conversation with Lainy had left you deflated. Here it was New Year’s Eve, and you were alone, the man you loved god knew where– just not with you. How many more holidays and milestones and everyday nights were you going to spend by yourself, waiting for a man who never seemed to want to be home with you anymore? This wasn’t the kind of life you wanted, the kind of life you deserved. 

You made your way to the kitchen to refill your glass of wine. You’d probably already had too many, but you needed to drown the despair that was slowly filling you up. As you poured an exceptionally generous glass, a man entered the kitchen. You recognized him– Harris, a cousin of Lainy’s who had flirted with you relentlessly for years before you had started seeing Bucky. 

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up upon seeing you, “it’s been awhile.” He enveloped you in a friendly hug. “How’ve you been?”

You smiled and exchanged pleasantries, catching up on the overall brushstrokes of your life. 

“I’m sorry about your breakup,” he offered gently, after you’d exhausted the usual small talk.

“My breakup?” you asked, brow piqued.

“Last few events I’ve seen you at, you’ve been alone. I assumed you and Barnes…” he left the thought floating, the implication hanging in the air: Barnes has left you alone, I assumed you broke up.

You huffed out a laugh. God. Was your relationship actually over and you were the only one dumb enough to not see it? 

“If you aren’t seeing anyone,” Harris continued, “I would really love to take you out. You’ve gotta know I’ve been into you for ages, and I figure if I don’t shoot my shot now, who knows when I’ll have another chance.”

You cocked your head and looked at him, taking in his earnest demeanor. Here was a man who genuinely wanted to spend time with you. Why were you waiting on someone who no longer wanted to be around?

“Um, I might have to get back to you on that, Harris,” you told him before excusing yourself. You needed air. 

You found yourself on Lainy’s balcony, the air deceptively mild for the end of December in Manhattan. Alone with your thoughts, you pulled out your phone and dialed Bucky’s number. It went straight to voicemail.

“Someone asked me out on a date tonight,” you said into the recording, your voice choked with tears you didn’t want to shed. “And I think I might say yes, because, honestly Buck, what are we even doing anymore? You’re never here, and I’m always alone. I tried. I tried so fucking hard to not let it get to me, because your work’s important. I know that. I do, and I’m not begrudging you for your job. But… but I can’t keep on like this. I can’t even remember the last time we spent more than three days together. Isn’t that crazy? Three days. Everyone thinks you’re cheating on me. Did you know that? You’re away so much that everyone I know is convinced you’re fucking someone else. Maybe you are, or maybe you already left me, but I’ve been too stupid to notice; if that’s the case, you could have just told me.” 

You kept your composure as you left the message. You weren’t angry at him; you never could be. You were just tired. So tired, and so lonely. 

“All I know is that it’s another night where I’m all by myself, wishing you were here, wanting to talk to you, to feel you, and you’re just… not. You’re off doing something, or someone, more important than me, and I used to be okay with that, but I can’t be anymore. I deserve more than waiting on you, Buck. I deserve to be someone’s priority. I really wish I could have been yours, the way you were mine. 

“So, let’s just call it, okay? Your heart’s obviously not in it anymore, and mine is too tired of being hurt and alone. We’ll have to figure out what to do about the house. I’m keeping Alpine, though. You haven’t been here for her, either, and it wouldn’t be fair of you to take her if you’re never going to be around.”

Inside, you could hear the rest of the party as they counted down to midnight. When they reached zero, the night erupted in fireworks, and you could hear cheers and cars honking their horns throughout the city below you.

“Huh,” you said into your phone, “it’s midnight. Happy New Year, Buck. I hope it ends up being a good one for you, and I’m sorry for whatever I did that made you decide you didn’t want to spend this last one with me.”

You hung up the phone and the tears finally fell as you slid down the balcony railing until you were crouched on the floor. You weren’t sure how long you sat there crying, but eventually Lainy found you, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and ushering you into her spare room. She helped you change out of your cocktail dress and into a spare pair of pajamas, and helped you wash your face before tucking you into bed. She left you with a glass of water and a kiss on the forehead, promising that tomorrow would be better, that the next best chapter of your life was about to begin, but as you drifted into a fitful sleep, you couldn’t find the will to believe her.

You woke the next morning with a throbbing headache, the alcohol and the tears doing nothing but dehydrating you into agony. You grabbed your phone to check the time, but the battery had died in the night. From the slant of the sun coming in from the guest room window, it looked to be late morning or early afternoon. 

You changed back into your dress, thanking Lainy for her help and making a small joke about doing the walk of shame in your clothes from the night before. You avoided her questions about what had happened, promising to go over it at length at the weekend after you’d had some time to process. You weren’t in the best headspace to get into at the moment.

Fortunately, your best friend knew you well enough not to pry, and you said your goodbyes, plans for brunch on Sunday having been made. You weren’t eager to get back home, to be surrounded by reminders of Bucky, when all you wanted was the man, himself. But he was your ex-boyfriend now, you supposed. You were going to have to come to terms with that sooner than later. Besides, Alpine needed to be fed, and you weren’t going to abandon her.

Your keys clicked in the lock as you opened your front door. “Al, baby,” you called, kicking off your heels and closing the door behind you, “Mommy’s home. You hungry, sweetie?”

You began making your way back toward the kitchen when a loud crash from upstairs got your attention. You rolled your eyes; what had the cat knocked over now? 

But then there was the roar of a body barreling down the upstairs hall and toward the stairs, leaving you frozen where you stood. You cast a glance to where you’d left your phone in your purse by the door. Too far away to reach in time to call for help as the intruder came pounding down the stairs. 

A massive figure rounded the corner, nearly knocking you over.

“Bucky?” You blinked, sure your eyes were playing tricks on you, but no– there he stood, and he looked like shit. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and his eyes were swollen and red-rimmed. He’d obviously been wearing the same clothing for at least a day, if not more.

“Y/N,” he breathed, throwing his arms around you and wrapping you in an almost bone-crushing embrace. “Sweetheart, I was so worried.”

“What are you doing here, Buck?” you asked him, pulling away from him. God, you wanted to let him hold you, but you just couldn’t. Not anymore.

Bucky cupped your face in his hands, blue eyes desperately searching yours. “I got your message. Doll, it fucking broke my heart. I came straight home, but you weren’t here, and I was terrified that you were gone; that you’d left me for good.”

You scoffed. “I’m not the one who leaves, Bucky.”

He flinched at your words. “I know, Baby. I know, and ’m so sorry. I had no idea. I shoulda known what leavin’ you so much was doin’ to you, ‘cause it was doin’ it to me, too. When I heard you say that people– that you– thought I was cheating on you, that I had neglected you so much you thought I found someone else, that I could ever love anyone else, ever want anyone else– I’ve never hated myself more, doll. I can’t stand that you even had those thoughts in your head for one second, because it’s always been you. There’s never been anyone else. You’re it.”

“Then why have you been gone?” you asked him in a whisper. “If there’s no one else, and I’m it, why don’t you ever want to be with me? Why do you keep leaving?” 

Bucky ran both his hands along his face. “God, it feels so stupid now,” he said with a sigh. “But I was trying to save–”

“Trying to save the world, yeah, I know,” you interrupted him, annoyed. “Trust me, I’m well aware that I can’t compete with that. But I needed to know you thought we were worth saving, too, and you never did.”

Bucky started laughing then, and you scoffed. “Wow, you don’t have to rub it in, Bucky.”

“No, no– Sweetheart, no!” he shook his head. “That’s not it, at all. Hold on.” He went to the foyer and grabbed his go-bag; you had missed it when you walked in. Coming back to the kitchen, he put it on the table, opening it up and extracting a folded piece of paper and handing it to you.

It was a real estate listing for a farmhouse Upstate, with acreage on the Hudson. You and Bucky had talked about what kind of house you would buy if the situation had ever presented itself, and it was almost as if you’d dreamed it up.

You looked from the paper back to Bucky. “I don’t understand,” you told him.

“It needs pretty extensive renovations,” he told you. “I wanted to take on enough overtime to have the money for them and make a good dent on the mortgage, but it needed more work than I originally thought. And, I have to come clean– I haven’t been one hundred percent honest with you about where I’ve been spending all my time.” He looked up at you through his lashes, head bent down in shame.

“But… but, you said there wasn’t anyone else,” you stammered, heart ready to beat out of your chest. 

“Oh god! No, and I mean that! There isn’t, I swear! God, I’ve fucked this up so bad!” Bucky tugged at his hair in frustration. “I’ve been going on extra missions, but sometimes, Sam, Steve, and I go Upstate to do some work on the house, to cut down the costs so I could still make my timeline.”

“You already bought it?” you asked, your voice flat. You were in shock. “You want to move out? Away from me?”

Bucky moaned in distress and drew you to him again. “No! God, I’m doing this all wrong. I want us to move there, together. To make it the perfect house. The perfect home for me, my wife and our stupid fur baby.”

You stilled at his words. “I’m sorry, your what?”

Bucky smiled at you sheepishly as he reached back into his go-bag. “I’ll have you know that I had an entire plan. Was gonna have the house ready by Valentine’s Day. Take you up there as a surprise, ask you properly, but I fucked that up, so…” He brought his hand back out, holding a small burgundy velvet box. He opened it to reveal a vintage engagement ring, a sapphire instead of a diamond. Your favorite stone.

Bucky got down on one knee. “Y/N,” he began as his voice choked up a bit with emotion, “I know I fucked up for the last eight months. I would completely understand if you can’t forgive me, but I need you to know that I love you. I have only ever loved you, and if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life making up for the fact that, even for a moment, I let you think that you weren’t the most important thing in my life, my number one priority. Will you marry me?”

“Buck…” you began, not sure how to phrase what you were about to say. “What about your job? I can’t keep coming in second to the rest of the world, and I get that it’s selfish of me, but–”

“I quit,” he said simply.

“What?” Your eyes were wide with shock at his statement. 

“The second I heard your voicemail, where you said you wanted to call it because I was never there, I told Steve I was done, that I needed to start putting you first. It wasn’t even a question. I’m officially retired.”

Your mouth hung open. You had hoped he would cut down on his missions, but for him to have quit completely… You gently tugged him to his feet, taking the ring box and running a finger across it.

“It’s lovely,” you told him softly. “Absolutely perfect; exactly what I would have picked for myself.” Bucky beamed at you, pleased. “But I can’t accept it.” His face fell as you gently placed the ring back in his hands. 

“Oh,” he whispered, eyes growing glassy. “I… um, I understand. I fucked up, hurt you. I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

“I still want to be with you, you idiot,” you admonished him. “But you did hurt me, and we’ve been apart for a long time. We need time to find our way back to each other again, okay? Ask me again on Valentine’s Day, just like you originally planned. Don’t do it now just because you fucked up.” You leaned up on your tip toes and kissed him. “And if it helps make you feel better, I’m probably going to say ‘yes,’ anyway.”

Bucky grinned at you. “Really?” he asked. When you nodded, he picked you up and spun you in  a circle before pressing his lips to yours as if he hadn’t touched you in months. “I promise you, Sweetheart, I’ll do anything I can to make this up to you, I swear it.”

“Anything?” you asked with a smile. “I think I know where you can start.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked you. “And where’s that?”

“Take me to bed, Bucky Barnes,” you said, kissing him again.

Without a word, Bucky swung you over his shoulder and ran with you up the stairs, your squeals and giggles echoing behind him.

Much, much later, when you lay sated together tangled in limbs and sheets with Alpine snuggled next to your heads, Bucky played with your fingers as you rested your head on his bare chest.

“So, Doll,” he said, kissing the pads of each of your fingers, “you gonna tell me who had the nerve to ask my girl out on a date?” 

You laughed. “Lainy’s cousin, Harris. I suppose I’ll have to text him now and tell him I’m not interested.”

“Hell no, you’re not interested,” Bucky chuffed. “Gonna have to remind that punk you’ve already got a boyfriend. The position has been filled.”

“That’s the thing, though,” you said, planting a kiss on his nose. “I don’t have a boyfriend anymore, do I?”

Bucky’s face fell. “But I thought you said–”

“I’ve got myself a fiance.”

Bucky tightened his grip around you, drawing you even closer to his warmth. “Yeah, okay. I gotta admit I like the sound of that a lot better.”

Your entire relationship with Bucky Barnes might not have played out like a fairy tale, but in that moment, you were more sure than ever that you two would get your happily ever after.

[ramp-it-up]

Mood

Summary: You and Steve were “special” friends. Until something that happens on one of your training missions puts Steve into a mood.

Word count: 2.7K

Pairing: Early CATWS era Captain Steve Rogers x SHEILD Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. Read at your own risk. S MUT! Early CATWS Steve, talk of hurt, ambush, implied assualt. Angsty, moody Steve, Steve with the urge to kill for you, possessive Steve, Steve pining for reader, idiots in love, Dom Steve, fuck buddies to relationship, fluff, Captain and Sir kink, dirty talk, edging (but not quite), begging, body worship, nipple play, raw p in v, female receiving oral, emotional sex.

A/N: This can be seen as adjacent to the fic Call Me Captain When I..., but can be read as a stand alone. I was in a mood when I wrote it, so here we are.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

NOTICE: I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

After you checked yourself out of the hospital against doctor’s orders, Steve Rogers steamed as he waited for you to get out of the shower. He wanted to be in there with you, but decided to give you some space, and give him some time to cool down.

The fact that you were standing at the visitor’s entrance, in your hospital gown and combat boots as he drove up to sit with you, was the latest thing to get him riled up.

When he saw you, he parked in the fire lane and got out of his car, hands on his hips as he questioned you.

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

He eyed the bandage on your forehead and the one on your cheek, fingers trembling as he brushed his thumb over your bruised face.

The rage had not subsided for him over the past three days. 

Even after he and Sam beat the medivac to the scene and transported you to the best ER in the area.

Even after he was assured that you were ok by the doctors at the hospital. 

Even after you protested that he was overreacting when he set up a security detail at your door headed by Sam. 

Even after he’d found who did this to you and… well, seeing you bruised countenance again reignited his emotions.

He wondered how you got around Sam who was posted up. But then, your cunning and skill was a big part of how he felt about you. So was your kindness, intelligence, and beauty.

But you didn’t know exactly how Steve felt about you. And perhaps he didn’t either. Until you were ambushed on a routine training mission with your troops.

You lifted your chin and squared your shoulders as Steve shook his head. 

“I’m fine, Captain. I want to go home. I’ve been in the hospital for four days. And on the training mission for 10 days before that. I was due to be discharged in the morning anyway.”

You looked up at Steve. He couldn’t resist those eyes.

“I want to rot on my couch, sleep in my own bed.”

Steve grunted his assent, although the thin line of his lips indicated his displeasure with you.

“How’s your head feel?”

You met his eyes and focused, if only to prove how healthy you were.

“I’m fine, Steve. I just want to go home.”

Steve stared at you, wanting to just take you into his arms, but not doing it. Then, he stared around the parking lot, scanning the perimeter for anyone watching.

“Get in.”

He moved next to you and picked up the plastic bag that had your belongings in it, and put his hand on your back to guide you toward the sportscar.

“But my ride...”

Steve looked down at you as his jaw clenched, the blue fire in his eyes threatening to burn you.

“Get in before I take you over to that bench and spank the hell out of you, Lieutenant.”

You swallowed a gasp and grew warm at the threat.

“Yes Sir.”

You climbed into the passenger seat and sat back as Steve buckled you in, then waved at Sam, who’d come running out of the hospital just as Steve drove away.

You were along for the ride of this mood of your superior, friend, and fuck buddy Captain America, Steve Rogers.

—-

You stood before Steve, wrapped up in your soft, fluffy white robe that he had put into the dryer to warm up and left on the hook on the door of the shower. It was such a sweet gesture that contrasted his cold, harsh demeanor on the way to your place.

You felt as if you were about to be punished, but you didn’t care. You were exhausted. And just a little bit spooked. But that last part was lessened, because Steve was with you here in your quarters. You looked at him, wanting to ask him to stay, but you didn’t.

Steve stalked toward you, and you noticed that he was barefoot, which seemed to indicate that he wasn’t going anywhere soon. You smiled as you dragged your weary eyes up to his face. You decided to go for it.

“Are you staying?”

Steve grunted at you again.

“Just try and get me to leave you alone.”

His deep bass rumbled through you, and you whimpered, despite the fact that he wasn’t even touching you. Something seemed off as he moved toward you, pulling you closer by the tie on your robe.

“I’ve been riding on the edge of insanity ever since that day.”

Steve’s hand was in your hair, gently massaging the exposed scalp between your braids as his eyes took careful stock of your face.

You were shook.

“I’m okay, Steve.”

“I’ve got to see for myself.”

All he wanted to do was to take inventory of you, his rough fingers moving over every inch of your naked body to make sure that every bit of you was okay. He’d almost lost you and was experiencing an almost feral urge to consume you. You could feel the guilt radiating off him.

“Steve. No one could have known. Shit, I’m head of intelligence and I didn’t know.…”

Steve put his finger to his lips, and then yours. He gently stroked your cheek as he kissed you tenderly, carefully.

“Why do you always taste so good? Like you smell. Like sweet coconut…”

He leaned in to kiss you again, groaning as every gentle stroke of his tongue was met with a bolder one of yours. The passion increased until he pulled away and leaned his forehead against yours. You could tell that he was holding back. 

What was wrong with him?

“I know that no one could have known that the mission was a trap. But I feel like I should have.”

His hands moved from your neck, to your torso, down your belly, to the juncture of your thighs. He was sitting on your bed as you stood before him, warmed by the shower, but goosebumps raised on your flesh and your nipples formed into tight peaks as he examined you.

“I’ve never felt the urge to kill as much as I did when I tracked them down. It only took a day and a half to find them, and then a day and a half to get close enough to… “

Steve stopped short of revealing what happened to the people who hurt you and just looked into your eyes. The fury you saw as he looked up at you was chilling, yet arousing. You wanted to ask what he did to them, but you couldn’t. You just looked at his hands to find evidence that you knew wouldn’t be there because of his super soldier healing.

“Steve?”

He didn’t respond to you, just continued to stare at your most intimate parts.

“Captain-”

He looked up at you then.

“What I said at the hospital earlier. I-I have a serious desire to give you a good and proper spanking for almost losing your life, although it wasn’t your fault.”

You started to laugh, but he was serious. The look in his eyes was unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

“I can’t give you up. I can’t.”

You shook your head.

“Steve, I’m fine-”

He pulled you to him by your thighs, his large hands grabbing you, gently but firmly, and bringing your crotch close to his mouth. He looked back up at you.

“I know we’ve never talked about this, but…You are my anchor.”

You ran your hands through his hair as his breath tickled your clit.

“I had the barest control while Sam and I were flying to get you, and only a small bit more when I learned you were okay. And now I have to verify that you are ‘fine,’ as you say. I need to see it with my own eyes, feel it with my own hands, taste it ….”

The unspoken part of that statement caused you to shudder as he went back to examining you, His hands moving down your legs, while listening for any sounds of discomfort from you as his skin slid along yours with a gentle but firm pressure, then standing up and depositing you on the bed as he examined you to the soles of your feet.

He placed one of your feet on his pelvis, next to what you’d discovered was his rock hard cock housed in his jeans, and one foot in his hand, beginning to massage it. Steve knew how a sensual foot massage made you wet. He grunted in response to your whimpers, but only turned you over as he examined the back of you.

Steve palmed the globes of your ass and pulled them apart, and you could feel his eyes at the crease of you for a full minute. Then, his palms slid upwards to your spine, smoothing over each vertebrae as he moved up to the back of your neck.

He was on the bed now, between your legs, and pulled your hips up to meet him as he gently circled your neck with his fingers, bringing you up slightly as his other hand rolled and pinched your stiff nipples. 

“How do you feel?”

His gruff whisper, full of need and at the shell of your ear elicited a groan and caused you to roll your hips on his rock-hard erection.

“Steve.. I… Please!”

You incoherently pleaded for more as you moved against the stiff fabric of his jeans, making a mess there. Steve looked down and rolled his eyes, his hand rubbing your ass as his palm itched to smack it.

“Mmmmmm. You have no idea how much I want to give you this cock. But you need rest.”

You reached back and slapped your own ass, pulling on your asscheek to enable him to push deeper between your legs to feel how wet you were.

“We also need to talk…”

Steve shuddered at the sensation of you rutting against him, and with every gasp and moan from you his control was dwindling. 

“I need it Sir. Please, Captain…”

“Fuck. Maybe just one orgasm. Then you can rest.”

You leaned down to give him that arch and he licked his lips. His cock was in full control of him now.

“Best idea ever, Captain.”

His hand moved to your core, and his fingers were instantly soaked with your arousal.

“Jesus. Looks so good.”

Steve’s dick throbbed and he gritted his teeth against the wave of lust, yet he stood up and took off his own clothes. He watched your empty pussy clench around air and he had to taste it. The minute his lips were wrapped around your clit from behind was the moment you started keening for him.

“God, yes….right… fucking…right there!”

Steve carefully inserted a finger into your cunt as he suckled your clit, trying to be gentle. You bit your lip as he pulled off and started to withdraw his finger slowly.

“So soft for me. But so tight.”

He watched your face as he added another digit, causing your eyes to squeeze shut and your mouth to hinge open as you worked your hips on his hand for some relief.

Your eyes popped open and you blinked rapidly, but he didn’t speed up to the insistence of your hips. When he curved his fingers and found that bundle of nerves inside, pressing gently, you broke apart as he stroked over and over again.

 "I–God. I'm going…" 

You bowed your body, and Steve watched in awe while your pussy clamped around his fingers.

“Oh yeah. This was what I needed to see. Give it to me.”

Steve rolled his thumb over your clit to extend your orgasm. You open and completely out of control, with no thought of hurt or danger, was the sight that he loved.

 And he wanted to make you do it again and again.

“Jesus, you are beautiful. I want to...” 

He was fisting his cock and watching your wet, creamy folds as he squeezed your ass for a better view.

“Want more. Please!” 

“Hmmph,” He grunted. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

You leaned over again and presented yourself to him, giving him a view of your fingers working your clit and sliding inside yourself. 

“Fuck me, Captain. Please…”

Steve actually whimpered. His cock was drawn to you magnetically.

“Are you sure…?”

“Need it.” 

Steve cupped your ass harder and guided his cock to your slick, heated cunt and groaned.

“Oh shit. You fucking own me.” 

Your eyes widened in shock, and then you looked over your shoulder, locking onto his gaze. You relaxed, causing Steve to sink deeper inside you. You both hissed and Steve’s eyes closed. 

“I’m never leaving. Could stay inside you forever. Wanna see that beautiful face.”

Steve grabbed your leg and shifted you down and around, maneuvering you onto your back. His eyes raked up and down your form as his hands found your hips and drew you closer to him and his cock deep inside you again. He leaned down and captured your lips in a heated kiss as you arched your chest against his. 

You dug your nails into his shoulders, his name a chanted mantra between kisses. With each slide and retreat of his stiff cock in your slick channel, both of your groans got louder. Steve’s gaze occasionally dipped to where you were joined, watching his cock slide in and out of you. You arched your back again, and he dipped his head to draw one of your nipples into his mouth. 

"I. Yes. Harder. Oh God. Oh my God." 

Against your nipple he muttered, "Let me hear you. So good.”

But he didn’t fuck you harder like you asked. Your response was to tug on his hair, and Steve chuckled around the flesh of your breast. 

“I love the sounds you make.”

You moaned loudly, very wet now and very frustrated. The sound of the slick squelching of your act was such sinful music. Steve groaned, his jaw ticked tight from holding back.

“Please!”

But Steve just continued at the same languid pace.

“Later, when you’ve rested, I have plans for these babies,” Steve flattened his tongue and licked around both areolas. 

“Gonna lick, bite, kiss, fuck them. Be rough.”

You shuddered as he leaned up and blew on them, causing your nipples to draw up into hard peaks again and your pussy to shudder around him. Steve leaned up and stared at your breasts as they bounced with each thrust and he shook his head as his pace faltered. You clenched around him again and he spoke, his voice broken.

“I know you’re close. Feel so good around me.”

Steve looked into your eyes as he snapped his hips, and your mouth went wide again as he worked his hand between you and found your sensitive clit. 

Your eyes crossed as your slick walls clamped around his cock and milked him. 

"That's it. Cum for me. I'm so addicted to the sight." 

With three more pumps, Steve was coming apart, his control falling away. Another orgasm rolled through you and you tightened around him once more, causing a groan from Steve as you rode out the wave. 

“Holy fuck.” 

He kissed you again, licking into your mouth as he continued to thumb your clit. Good Lord, it was impossible to think at all when he did that. You were a whimpering mess as you begged him again.

“Please Captain. Give me your cum, Sir. Cum inside me.”

Steve buried his head in your shoulder as he sped up incrementally, his cursing muffled against your skin. You rolled your hips to meet him, making him groan again. You turned your head to bite, then whisper in his ear.

“I’m gonna cum on your thick cock again. Just fuck me. A little harder. Just three more pumps and I’m there. Pretty please, Sir.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist as Steve finally let go and gave you three hard, deep pumps, but as you predicted, he could not stop there.

Steve cursed and fucked you hard, stroking at the devil’s pace for at least a dozen more times, roaring as you stiffened and clamped down on his cock as you came.

“G-g-g-geeez! Fuck!”

Steve was a drooling, practically sobbing mess as the forcefull spray of his cum shot against your cervix, so much so that it leaked out almost immediately. Steve stopped and watched the sight, gasping, mouth open. Then, he looked back up at you.

“Everything about you, about us is so damn perfect. Especially this. We almost lost it. I love you, Libby.”

Your heart surged with emotion, finally understanding what had gotten into him.

“I love you too, Steve.”

You smiled and wiped the tears that were forming at the corner of Steve’s eyes as he softened inside you. 

“Shhhhh. Steve. It’s okay. I’m okay. Let’s take this one day at a time. Right now, we both need to sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Steve nodded and sank down into your arms as you held onto your super soldier and rocked both of you to sleep.

——

If you liked it, hit Reblog! 😊

[urhoneycombwitch]

I know what they call you.

Eddie Munson x shy!Reader You’re a little lost in your head. Eddie wants to find you.

foreword: The healing properties of good head <333 Anyways I labeled this R “shy” but she’s more… introverted? Reserved? this one goes out to the weird and off-putting girlies who have a lot to say but are kinda quiet instead. Timeline may be a bit wibbly but designed it to be early 4th-season era, with R (early 20s) having played an undetermined part in the various Upside Down battles from seasons previous. Loosely based on this anon every1 say thank you anon!

cw: alcohol/weed used as a social crutch, R is hassled by a guy at a party (but her boys back her up), brief vomit mention, implied bad home life for R, light SH by way of tight grip, PTSD, R has breasts+V, praise kink, oral (R receiving), one (1) spank, multiple orgasms (R), soft dom!eddie, overstim, coming in pants (E)

wc: 11k

___

It’s spring break, 1986, and you’re cursing the name of your so-called “best friend” Robin Buckley.

You didn’t even want to go to this stupid kegger in the first place, arguing with her the whole ride over from Steve’s backseat.

“Don’t you think it’s totally lame that you’re basically being chaperoned by two gap-year losers?” you’d said, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the console, seatbelt pulling taut across your Rolling Stones tee. “You’re a big girl, Robin, you don’t need Steve and me to babysit you anymore.”

Robin began protesting but Steve interrupted, tapping at your forearms without looking away from the road- “Sit back, wouldja, that’s not safe. And for the record, it’d only be lame if we were, like, thirty and still going to high school kickbacks. Gap-year drinking parties are a rite of passage.”

You’d sat back against your seat with a huff, arms crossed, unconvinced until Robin turned those big pleading eyes your way over the back of her seat. “You wanna talk about lame? Lame is me getting anywhere within a 60-foot radius of Vickie. I am totally hopeless around that absolute beauty.”

She’d twisted in her seat and reached for your hand, and you gave it to her grudgingly (the two of you ignoring another of Steve’s gripe about vehicular safety) as she said, “You’re like, the best wingwoman I’ve ever met. Please come to the party and help me avoid the natural disaster that is me running my mouth.”

Robin wasn’t just being generous- you were a killer third wheel. Especially when alcohol was involved: the walls that you naturally upheld around your introverted demeanor by day turned liquid as whiskey by night, often scoring you major cool points with your friends for things you barely remembered doing the day after. 

So you’d relented, and in turn resolved to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible (in the name of Robin’s aid, of course), but turns out your best friend didn’t even need your help in the first place; within 5 minutes of setting foot in the crammed house party Robin won a spot right next to Vickie on the living room couch, starry-eyed gaze saved only for the redhead that bore no room for your intervention.

Three shots ago, the situation would have struck you as funny, but it’s been a lonely time (what with Steve abandoning you, too, in favor of chatting up some college blonde); drifting from packed room to packed room, sneakers sticking to the floorboards, winding through throngs of sweaty dancing students just to keep on top of your alcohol consumption.

Kind of like hunting in the wild, you muse, leaned against a wall with red solo cup in hand. Flirt with Amy Thacker and her low-cut blouse to access the watering hole (Mystery Punch, green both in color and flavor); let Lenny Baker put his paws on your waist to gain entry to the standing liquor cabinet. The stuff of nature docs.

If this dimly-lit Hawkins party is the savanna, then you are the antelope- grazing on snacks, never staying in one spot for too long, minding your own business and staying way the hell away from the lion’s den (the group of jocks in Hawkins Tigers polos).

Unfortunately, you push off the wall in search of a refill at the same time Lenny Baker decides to sidle up to you, nearly knocking the cup from your grasp when he bends his thick head to shout in your ear above the music. 

“Great party, right?” His arms are crossed above his tank of a chest, blocking you from a smooth exit via the kitchen archway.

“If you’re into drunk teens, I guess,” you say back, pointedly, licking a stripe up your wrist from where the punch had sloshed onto your bare arm. 

When you look back up Lenny’s still standing there, watching you with a hungry edge that’s starting to make your well-honed antelope-sense tingle. As you not-so-subtly cast your glance around for Steve, Lenny leans in again, close enough to give you a sour whiff of his breath. “I’m legal, if that’s what’s got your panties in a twist. And what’s wrong with having some fun?”

“I’m not into having fun with douchebags who ‘roid away their remaining brain cells to bully my friends,” you retort, flatly. You doubt this guy knows you’re connected to the Hellfire group (de facto sitter, second only to Steve), but the insult seems to land anyways. 

Lenny scoffs, going for a low blow to offset the sting of his bruised ego- “If you’re trying to play the part of slut, you were doing a way better job earlier.”

What the meathead hasn’t picked up on yet is your absolute lack of care about him- or anyone else at this stupid fucking party, for that matter. Besides Robin and Steve, obviously, but they’re equally indisposed at the moment. You’re feeling bold enough that you could play dirty: throw the dregs of your drink in his face, make a real scene- but the shots from earlier are hitting you sideways and you’re not entirely confident in your ability to multitask. 

So instead, with a wink, you tell him, “At least this slut knows when to quit,” and turn on your heel, abandoning the kitchen escape route for a closer door that leads to the back porch.

You suck in lungfuls of cool night air, trying to clear the fuzz of booze from your vision. When you don’t hear any angry footsteps following in your wake, you sink against the wooden bannister and tip back the last of your drink in one swallow. Maybe Steve doubled back to the car…?

With your empty cup left neatly on the railing, you set off down the couple of steps that separate you from the grass, except the toe of your shoe catches on a hidden groove in the wood, and nothing is within reach to grab onto as you trip and begin to fall.

The stumble should have ended with you facedown in the dirt, but something- someone- solid breaks your downward path, catching the upper half of your body in a sturdy hold even as your legs twist around themselves.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, I gotcha. You okay?”

The voice is instantly familiar, one that you’ve heard ringing out from underneath the drama room door on countless occasions as you’ve waited on your various child wards to wrap up their D&D sessions.

Eddie Munson is holding you in his leather-clad arms, larger than life with that big cloud of hair and doe-eyed gaze matching yours. He helps you stand, properly, dropping his hands once you’re stabilized and taking the warmth of his palms with him. 

“You okay?” he asks again, tilting his head, looking at you with fresh concern from under that mop of bangs. “Looks like you had a lot to drink.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you drawl, bravado flooding back in. “Am I really gonna get a fucking lecture on drinking from my local drug dealer?”

Instead of rising to the bait or bristling at your tone, Eddie grins- delighted, wolfish- before letting out a low whistle. “Who coulda guessed: resident Shy Girl has a mouth on her.”

You twist said mouth into your own smile, one that you hope is coy and charming and not dorkily lopsided (because you stopped being able to feel your face after that last drink), and coo, “You thinkin’ about my mouth, Munson?”

He laughs- a full, vibrant sound that lights up the night. There’s a flutter in your ribcage, knocking up a frenzy at the noise, like it wants to get out and at him, but you tamp it down and play it cool.

“You’ve only seen me in the cold, unforgiving light of day,” you continue, as Eddie rifles through his pockets, surfacing with a pack of cigs, eye contact yet to be broken. “My nighttime alter ego is a real riot, all liquored up.”

“Well, I happen to think you’re a riot in the sober light of day, too.” Eddie shrugs a shoulder as he flips the lid of the cigarette box.

You’re unsure if he’s messing with you- he’s gotta be, right? The only meaningful interaction you two have had in the past handful of years has been through the courtesy of the children in your respective care- a few surface-level conversations during carpool pickup, some flirting on his end that you’ve always been too skittish to return. 

Well, until now, you guess. Maybe this is a good thing, him seeing you like this- it’ll either scare him away, or you’ll finally make good on the quiet crush you’ve been harboring.

You’re about to speak again when the porch door opens with a bang; you and Eddie swivel at the same time to see Lenny clomping noisily towards the steps, voice booming out over the thrum of bass back inside- “This freak bothering you?”

You look between the metalhead and the jock, eyes wide and mocking as you call back, “No, but you’re starting to!”

“Jesus, talk about poking the bear,” you hear Eddie mutter behind you, but your focus is taken up by the fact that Lenny is tromping down the steps and reaching out to grab your upper arm, his cold and clammy palm taking up a sizeable amount of space.

You can feel that rage, simmering and easily accessed, start to crawl over your skin. You stand your ground in the face of someone much larger than you, sneakers planted firmly, chin tilted in defiance- I’ve killed monsters in alternate dimensions, asswipe. You might’ve scared me back in high school but now I dare you to fuck with me. 

Before Eddie can jump to your defense, you’re already going in for the bite, voice dripping with derisiveness. “So glad your right hand found its way off your dick for a change, Len. How about you do me one better and take it far, far away from here?”

Lenny’s face is almost purple with anger as his grip tightens, and you feel Eddie moving in at your back- to do what exactly, hard to say, ‘cuz Lenny’s got about 60 pounds on the lanky DM- but just as fast as the tension has ramped up, it gets diffused with the arrival of one Steve Harrington from around the corner of the house.

He cuts a smooth path through the grass to your other side, Robin’s sweater slung over one arm, twirling his car keys in neat loops around his finger, boasting a casual demeanor that doesn’t match up with the steely look he’s giving Lenny. “You heard the girl, Baker. Time to am-scray.”

Whether it’s the rumors of Steve’s nail bat or the manic look in your eyes or the fact that he’s outnumbered, Lenny’s got plenty of reason now to drop your arm. 

Which he does, spitting one last “bitch” at you before hulking off into the night.

The anger in you recedes like a wave. You breathe out a dry laugh, then turn back to the boys, clasping your hands over your heart with faux-dopeyness. “My heroes. How will I ever repay you?”

“Shutting up, for a change, would be a great start,” Steve grouses over the sound of Eddie’s cackles.

“Holy shit. Can’t believe your girl’s feistiness almost landed me in the hospital.” Eddie shakes his head, plucking a cigarette out and sticking it between his plush lips.

“She’s not my girl,” Steve says, even as you wind your arms around his chest from behind, tucking your chin over his shoulder. “She is, unfortunately, my problem.”

“I love when you two talk about me like I’m not here.” You simper at Eddie from your draped position.

He’s watching you with a fondness that feels overly familiar, through the haze of smoke streaming from his nostrils as you pat the chest beneath your hands- “Don’t worry about ol’ Stevie boy. He’s turned into quite the good guard dog after the whole Russian mall takeover last year.”

“Aaaaand that’s enough talking from you,” Steve says firmly, twisting out of your arms and putting his own around your waist. “Say goodbye to your new buddy, we’ve got a Robin to collect.”

As Steve steers you towards the direction of his car you wave at Eddie, a motion that he returns, his rings glinting in the porch light.

“Christ, you really are somethin’ else with some drinks in you,'' Steve fusses, helping you into the backseat, hand shooting up to block the door frame before your head can collide with the metal. “Did you seriously have to bring up the Russians?”

“He probably thought it was a joke, Steve,” you say, exasperated and fighting the twisted middle seatbelt with uncoordinated hands. “You know… those things that you tell people when you wanna get in their pants?”

The crack was aimed at Steve’s recent string of strike-outs in the dating department, but he throws it back at you. “You’re trying to get in Eddie Munson’s pants?”

“No,” you sputter, indignant and feeling suddenly too hot. 

Steve knocks your still-struggling hands from the belt, clicking you in himself, before pointing an accusatory finger in your face. “Stay here while I get Robin, and no throwing up in the Beemer.”

He shuts the door, Robin’s sweatshirt hanging from one shoulder while he stalks back into the house. 

You let your head fall back against the seat and close your eyes, bright cherry embers of cigarettes between lush-lipped curves dancing behind the dark of your lids. 

___

You manage to avoid throwing up in the BMW, saving the worst of it for the downstairs toilet of the Harrington house after Steve drags you and Robin indoors. Once your body is purged of the spirits, you collapse into your usual side of the guest bed, sweaty and exhausted, murmuring an apology to Robin who squeaks at the rocking movement of the mattress. In a few minutes, you’re lulled to sleep by the gentle snores of your best friend.

The morning sun is a very rude awakening, Robin apparently having forgotten to close the blinds before leaving with Steve for their shifts at Family Video. There’s a full glass of water on the bedside table and a few loose Tylenol tablets, the word “DRINK” sprawled on a sticky note in Steve’s handwriting.

You wince, down the meds along with half the water, and start the search for your sneakers.

When you’d signed up to protect a bunch of teens at the end of the world awhile back, it had seemed like a one-time gig. But now, here you were a few years later, loading yourself into your curb-parked junker to willingly cart around the same kids.

While wearing yesterday’s clothes. Even with the sprays of cologne that you’d stolen from Steve’s dresser, you’re pretty sure you’ll be fooling no one.

Evidenced by your first stop in east Hawkins for Dustin Henderson, who clambers into the front seat with a scathing appraisal. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shifting the gear to drive and grimacing at the subsequent squeal of metal that pierces into your left temple. “Learn from my mistakes as a washed-up twenty-something and cool it on the teen drinking, all right?”

“Washed up though you may be,” Dustin intones sagely, digging through his backpack and producing two brown-paper bundles, “you are now one Claudia Henderson Breakfast Sandwich Deluxe richer.”

You take the proffered sandwich gratefully, steering with one hand to peel back the oil-stained paper from the still-warm bread. “God. Is your mom looking to adopt?”

“She’s kind of got the perfect child already, but I’ll keep my ear to the ground for ya,” Dustin says around a mouthful of cheese and egg.

The solid breakfast helps your stomach ease back into a place of normality, but with your next stop adding two more kids to the mix, the rowdy bickering that follows puts that Tylenol to work.

“You’re an idiot,” Max is saying to Lucas over the sound of his indignation in the back seat. “You seriously think Indiana Jones would win against Supergirl? She can shapeshift, and she has heat vision.”

“All I’m saying is, it’s really hard to see a whip coming.” Lucas is stretching the limits of his seatbelt in his earnestness to get his girlfriend on his side.

It doesn’t work- Max rolls her eyes and taps at your shoulder. “Help me out here. His logic is totally shit, right?”

Making a turn onto the main road, you nod your assent without looking back. “I think you should listen to your very smart girlfriend, Lucas.”

Max makes a triumphant “hah”, and Dustin adds fuel to the argument’s fire when he drags in some other comic book character that you’ve never heard of. 

You hazard a glance in your rear-view mirror at Max, who’s too busy dishing out an enthusiastic rebuttal to notice. Her auburn braids swing with the movement of the car, and you wonder if they were done by her mother before work or if Max had to rely on her own hair expertise again. 

You’ve got a real soft spot for Max, always have. While you both have plenty of cause to bond over shitty home lives, it’s also Max’s brash and defiant attitude that drew you to her. She’s got the bravery you can only hope for, something that you are sure to tell her frequently, even though the compliment is hard for her to take.

You score a parking spot that’s right in front of the arcade, calling after the kids already scrambling out of your car that you want to leave at noon, sharp. They all give some form of distracted acknowledgement before disappearing into the building, so you figure the earliest you'll be getting out of here is noon-thirty. 

Not like you have much to do today, anyways, besides bother Steve and Robin at work- since the arcade is conveniently located right next to Family Video, it’s a perfect excuse to wait out the kids’ spring break activities in the company of your nearest and dearest.

You’re cutting a swift track up the sidewalk when you nearly collide with Eddie Munson, for the second time in less than 24 hours.

“Hey!” He beams at you, a wide, easy thing that fits on his face so well, like it was made to be there, boyish dimples digging in. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to smile back but probably landing somewhere in the grimace region as memories of last night float to the forefront of your mind. Small talk. You can do it. Say something. “Um. Were you getting a movie?”

“Nah.” Eddie shakes his head, hooks a thumb at the Family Video doors behind himself. “Keith’s one of my regulars. That guy might actually smoke more weed than me.”

You hum mildly to show you’re still paying attention but really you’re looking at Eddie’s hair, dark curls that shift with each of his movements. His hair isn’t black, like you’ve been led to believe this whole time- with the morning light shining through, highlighting the halo frizz around the edges, it’s actually a deep, chocolatey brown.

Similar to his eyes. Which are trained on you. Because you haven’t talked in a weird amount of time and are now just openly ogling his hair. 

Before you can open your mouth to apologize Eddie asks, “You wanna smoke?”

You nod, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically, and then stretch on your tiptoes to peer around Eddie’s frame at the Family Video sign. “Yeah, but we gotta be fast unless you want the Wonder Twins joining us.”

His grin slips into a smirk, and he winks before taking your hand in his. “A quickie, then.”

That fluttering thing in your ribs is back. The metal of Eddie’s rings are cool against your palm as he leads you around the side of the building, dropping your hand once you both are leaned up against the red brick.

Trying not to outright stare again, you watch from the fringes of your vision as Eddie lights up and breathes a cloud of smoke into the air. His nails are painted black- they weren’t last night. An image of him- hunched over a kitchen table, tongue sticking out of those pillowy lips in concentration, a nail polish brush held in his long fingers- flits across your mind.

Eddie holds the cigarette out, filter-side towards you, and you shake your head lightly. “No thanks. I don’t actually smoke, I just wanted to talk to you.”

Eddie glows. Before he gets the wrong idea you start explaining, arms crossing tight over your chest in unconscious defense- “I wanted to talk about last night. And say I’m sorry. I’m not usually so…”

“Badass? Charming? Hot?” Eddie fills in when you trail off, taking in another deep drag of smoke. 

Christ. You feel heat rushing from head to toe as you ward off his flattery, nails nipping into your upper arms. “I was gonna say… talkative? I guess? I’m normally not one to pick fights, but Lenny was being a dick and I don’t like the way he treats the kids, or you, for that matter, and I was drunk and mouthy but that’s not an excuse to drag you into it and I’m sorry-”

“Hey, hey.” Eddie’s tone is soothing, low, cutting smoothly into your feverish confession. He reaches out and strokes the back of his knuckle across your hand, tiny half-moons from your nails leaving their impression as you soften your grasp on yourself.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you can’t look anywhere but at your sneakers planted in the gravel as he says, “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself when it comes to dickwads like Lenny Baker. And I would say that rescuing fair maidens is part of my job description, but…”

Eddie stubs the half-smoked cigarette out against the brick, flicks it to the ground, and waits until you look up at him again before saying “You don’t seem like you’re in need of any saving.”

That flutter, again, as you hold his eye contact for as long as you can stand it. 

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “There she is.”

Mortified, you resist the urge to scream into your hands as you push off from the brick, instead squeezing them into fists at your sides. “Oh-kay. Well. I better head inside or Robin will send out the search party for me.”

Eddie lets you walk past him, but just before you turn the corner he says, “I’m across from the Mayfields in Forest Hills if you ever want some company. Or some good weed.”

Footfalls from his thick-heeled boots recede into the distance, and you take a minute to calm your breathing before pushing your way through the doors of Family Video.

Steve’s stocking a shelf of New Releases at the front of the store, vest-clad torso faced away as the bell above the door signals your entrance. On autopilot he monologues, “Welcome to Family Video, let us know how we can be of service.”

“Aw, I miss the days when you were forced to say Ahoy, mateys!” You tease, Steve turning to give you an irritated frown as you prop your hip against the register counter.

Robin clacks away on the computer, hitting the Enter key a little harder than necessary as she says, “You’re about one mall fire and a bajillion NDA’s too late to ever hear that shit again.”

Keith must be lurking around in the back office, ‘cuz the three of you only refer to last year’s cataclysmic series of events as a “mall fire” when you’re talking in code. 

Or if you’re trying to be funny. But based on the dark circles under Robin’s eyes and the harried way Steve’s shoving a hand through his hair as he drifts towards the counter, you surmise that the three of you are very much on the same page this morning with regards to humor and hijinks.

“I didn’t know it was possible to be this hungover,” Robin groans, sinking her hand into a torn-open Skittles bag and popping a handful into her mouth. “Sugar is supposed to help, right?”

You snort, fiddling with a stack of paper brochures as Steve leans against the counter. 

“Had any more run-ins with the town riffraff?” He asks, feigning casual, honey-colored eyes roaming around the shop.

“I’m visiting you, aren’t I?” You shoot back, unreasonably defensive. 

“Another point for the pretty lady, and Harrington strikes a zero,” Robin totals in her best sports broadcasting voice. “What the hell are you talking about, Steve?”

“Drinky McGee over here was spilling her guts last night to none other than Edward Munson,” Steve replies, looking satisfied when Robin’s eyes bug dramatically.

“Eddie?” Robin hops off the stool, sliding her hands from the other side of the counter to stop your own from ripping the brochures to shreds. “And what, pray tell, were you spilling about with Eddie Muson?”

“Nothing.” You pull your hands from Robin’s, rolling your eyes as if the stakes are low, when in fact the stakes are as tall as the Empire State Building. You can practically hear the wind whistling from this height. “I wasn’t… we barely talked. He was backing me up when some jock started messing with me. That’s all.”

Robin whirls on Steve with animosity- “You left her alone long enough for some meathead to get involved? Jesus, Steve, the hell is wrong with you?”

“Like you shacking up with Vickie after two Tears for Fears tracks is any more responsible!” Steve snaps.

Having spent enough time with both your friends to know their propensity towards petty arguments, you slap a hand against the counter to derail. “Hey! Both of you knock it off. It’s fine, I’m fine, we survived yet another night out on the town unscathed. Let’s just… drop it.”

Steve looks properly chastised, but Robin gets a glint in her eye that confirms she’s not thrown off the scent so easily. 

“You know what they call him, right?” she asks you, lowering her raspy voice even further.

“Eddie The Freak Munson,” Steve supplies, but shrinks noticeably when Robin gives him a withering look. “...not that, then?”

“Of course you, Steve The Hair Harrington, would only know him by that name.” Robin shakes her head, disapproving, before turning back to you with a wicked grin. “Word on the street holds Eddie The Munch Munson in very high regard.”

Steve scoffs at this, but you blink, uncomprehending.  “Munch, like… he eats a lot of food?”

You feel very suddenly and violently ganged up on when Steve and Robin give you mirrored quizzical looks.

“No, babe,” Robin says, slowly. “Munch as in he eats pussy.”

“Jesus christ.” Heat courses through you as you scan the empty store, even as Steve chuckles and says, “You really are a prude.”

A skittle sails airborne into the side of his temple and he flinches, Robin coming to your aid. “That’s no way to talk to a lady, Steven.”

“I’m so not a prude.” You’re quick to jump to your own defense. “I just… didn’t know what that meant.”

You’d had a boyfriend for 6 months your sophomore year of high school, Ben- nice enough guy, but you’d mostly dated as an excuse to get all your firsts out of the way. Some laid-back hookups have occurred since then- it’s not like you’ve been chaste all these years, for fuck’s sake.

But you certainly wouldn’t give any of those boys a prize-winning nickname for their ability to eat you out. 

“It’s all baseless gossip, right?” Steve grabs a nearby wheeled cart and pushes it to the New Releases, resuming his shelf stocking. “I mean, what the hell else are small-townies good for other than trading lies like baseball cards.”

“I dunno,” Robin says, thoughtfully, sucking at her front teeth. “If the token lesbian is hearing about it, then he’s gotta be some sort of sex god.”

Steve’s making a snarky comeback, but you can’t hear him over the whistling in your ears.

You stare blankly out at the parking lot, one hand absently crunching at a brochure, trying really hard to think of anything but those plush lips and all the places you want them. 

____

Ever since the events of last year ripped a hole in your found family’s world, you make it a weekly habit to visit Max.

You’re always armed with some excuse- made too much pasta, please take it off my hands and put this tupperware in your fridge; I was on my way to the thrift store and thought I’d stop by, wanna come with and help me pick out some new jeans?- so that it’s harder for Max to deny your company. Slowly, over the last handful of months, by way of secondhand book offerings and slices of leftover pizza, Max has let her guard down enough to let you in. 

Even on days like today, when her demeanor suggests active disdain (calling you “mom” with a caustic bite when you ask after her last meal, rolling her eyes when she finds you doing the leftover sink dishes), you don’t take it personal. Her coldness towards little acts of kindness is due to the shitty way other people have failed her. And plus, you’ve put in enough effort to be able to see the warm side of Max Mayfield.

Like now, for instance- she’s giving you a bone-crushing hug on your way out, freshly-braided hair pressed tight to your sternum as you hug her back and sway in the doorway. The hug is quick and fierce, over in seconds as she slips back into practiced indifference

“Stay out of trouble this week and I’ll buy you a pony,” you joke as she pulls away, and the smile that she cracks makes it all worth it. 

“Make it a racehorse and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she says, giving you a small wave before closing her front door.

You walk down the dirt path to your parked car, keys in hand. Tonight’s schedule is that of a responsible, sensible young adult- the classified ads on your desk at home need trawling through, and a laundry pile the size of Hoosier Hill waits expectantly on your floor.

But there’s this crawling under your skin, a feeling that tends to flare up every so often, a craving for some sort of release gnawing at the edges. Usually the cure is sad music and masturbation, or some of Steve’s parents’ wine and a cheesy romcom. 

Or weed. That tends to work, too.

You’re shoving your keys into the pocket of your denim jacket and walking across the way to Eddie’s trailer before you lose your nerve, scuffing your sneakers against his porch while you knock.

He looks surprised to see you, dark brows raised, leaning into the palm he’s got on the doorframe- “Oh shit. Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply, tracking one foot up the back of your calf, feeling timid under his gaze. “Do you… can I buy some weed?”

When he nods, you duck under his arm and drop to one knee on the carpeted floor to untie your laces.

“Shit, sweetheart, don’t go to all that trouble.” He lets the door close, enveloping you both in the moody lighting of his trailer. There’s a radio playing the local rock station dimly from one of the bedrooms, and as you toe off your shoes you notice a gleaming black guitar leaned upright against the couch.

“Do you play?” You drift over on sock feet to gently brush across the strings, a faint and discordant noise rising and fading underneath your fingertips.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice comes from just over your shoulder as he watches your gentle fingers on his prized possession. “I’m in a band, actually. You should come see us play sometime.”

“That’s cool,” you say earnestly. “I remember when you got in trouble for that talent show performance- your band was totally swindled out of first place, if you ask me.”

When he doesn’t respond right away, you hazard a look at him over your shoulder and find him staring at you again, something you’re still not used to, giggling out a little “What?” as his eyes stay on your face.

“You’re pretty, that’s all.” The Dio logo on the front of his tee ripples when he shrugs a shoulder. As if he knew it would embarrass you, he leaves no room for your disagreement, turning away into the kitchen, stretching tall for the metal lunchbox on the top of his fridge.

His shirt lifts with the stretch, a flash of stomach lined with a trail of dark hair that makes you swallow back the gathering saliva in your mouth. 

“So, weed,” he’s saying as he pops the lid on the box, shaking out a small bag of fuzzy-looking green clumps. “I can set you up with a couple of days’ worth, if you want.”

“That sounds good,” you reply, mustering courage to drift to Eddie’s side, pretending to assess the baggie he’s holding, committing to memory the way his long fingers deftly pluck apart bud from stem. “That way I can come back and buy more.”

His fingers pause, halfway to the metal grinder nestled in the lunchbox as he says, “You know, you don’t need to use weed as an excuse to come see me. I think we’ve already established I like lookin’ at ya, so you’d be doing me a favor if you came by more. Just to hang out.”

This offer sits between you as he grinds the weed down, then tips a stripe of it neatly across some rolling paper. His dexterous fingers pinch and tuck until a joint takes shape, a small strip of the paper poking out.

He holds it to your lips, brown eyes shimmering with warmth as he waits. 

A Stevie Nicks song starts up on the radio, muffled by the trailer walls but crooning through all the same. This close to Eddie for the first time, you can smell him- balmy and spicy, like bergamot and Irish Spring. 

You lean into the joint, licking across the paper in one unbroken motion. Your tongue catches on Eddie’s thumb when you pull away, and there’s a salt-warm taste that settles in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he says, in that low-toned voice, and you have to fight to keep your thighs from pressing together in your jeans.

“Wanna smoke here?” Eddie smooths the spit-damp end of the joint down, giving the end a twist. “Good way to test out the merchandise. First one’s free.”

You shake your head as he extends the joint- “I’m definitely paying you, Eddie. And no, I can’t smoke here.” With you being the unspoken addition to that sentence. 

“Aw, shucks, sweetheart,” he drawls, devilish grin creeping back in, “You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” you admit, before you can stop yourself.

His brows shoot up again, then waggle, obscenely. “Afraid I’m gonna be too tempting to resist once you’re in the clutches of the Green Dragon?”

Something like that, you think, wryly, but that fluttering is back and you really want to shut it up, so against your sensible, better judgment, you take the joint from Eddie’s hand.

“Got a light?”

You haven’t smoked in over a month, and with your tolerance so low two hits is all it takes to get you sprawled out on the living room floor, arms akimbo like you’re making a carpet snow angel.

Eddie’s a bit more restless in his high, plucking melodious and listless tunes from the couch with his guitar, one foot propped on the coffee table near your head.

Feeling loose-limbed and confident, you stare unabashed up at Eddie. He’d put his hair into a low bun, earlier, and there are a few dark tendrils swinging free around his neck with the rocking movements of his body to the music. 

He hits a snag, string buzzing out a dissonant noise. “Can’t focus with you lookin’ at me.”

“Sorry,��� you murmur, except you’re not at all. “Now you know how I feel all the time.”

He sticks his tongue out at you, your girlish tittering in answer; you pat the carpet beside your hip. “Come lay with me.”

His body responds easily to your request; Eddie props the guitar back up against the couch and stretches out next to you with a sigh, a wave of that smokey sweet smell coming with him.

Under your weed-filtered view, the popcorn ceiling above you is moving, whorling and undulating in the muted light. You’re feeling gutsy and sure of yourself as you ask aloud, “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

Your head turns so you can meet Eddie’s eyes, which are dancing across your face- cheek to lips to nose back up to eyes- and he doesn’t make a joke, this time, his words coming with weighty seriousness.

“Yeah, I do. I think you’re beautiful. Always have.”

“Always?” Your echo is a soft and seeking thing.

“Yeah, always,” he confirms, simply, as if it’s a fact of life. “Woulda made a move sooner, but you always seemed so…”

“Unapproachable? Aloof? Bitchy?” You fill the gap in his speech with adjectives that have been used to characterize you in the past- usually by boys in the heat of an argument over inconsequential things that have been lost to time, only the labels sticking around. 

Eddie gives you a reproachful look. “No. I was gonna say, you seemed like you were always in your own world.”

This throws you for a loop. Neck on a swivel, you look back up at the ceiling as Eddie continues.

“I wanted to get to know you more, but I’ll be the first to admit I was intimidated by you. I mean, you’re way out of my league-” Eddie ignores the sardonic snort you give to this- “-and I just assumed asking you out would've ended with an epic crash and burn.”

The ceiling stops swaying, and you swivel back to hold Eddie’s eyes again, the weed making honesty easy. “I always kinda thought you were beautiful, too.”

Awash with the bravery that only comes from being in an altered state, you keep the momentum that’s aided by Eddie’s soft smile and push up on your elbows. 

“I know what they call you.”

Eddie blinks up at you, then slowly, slowly, pushes himself up onto his elbows too. “Yeah?”

It’s a taunt, a dare, an I bet you won’t.

Shows how much he knows. When you’re drunk or stoned, he’d be hard pressed to find a bet you can’t win.

You say it, unwavering. “Eddie The Munch Munson.”

His lips fall open, leaning in towards you as if drawn by a magnet, and you think he’s gonna kiss you until he falls back against the carpet, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Shit. Fuck. We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” You’re a little taken aback, ‘cuz while it’s not an outright rejection, Eddie’s upping the drama, hands pressed into the sockets of his eyes, groaning as he tips into your side.

With his forehead pressed into the curve of your shoulder, he says softly, “I think we’re both a little too stoned to be thinking clearly. And I really, really want you to think clearly when it comes to this.”

“Comes to what?” You’re egging him on now, trailing your fingers up his bicep, coy and angelic. 

He rolls away from you, making a pained noise with his face smushed into the carpet before pushing himself off the ground. “You know what, princess. New topic, for the love of god. You hungry?”

You are, actually, and when he extends his hand to help you up, you take it.

Eddie whips up a box of mac and cheese while you sit on a counter nearby, conversation engaging and fluid as he cooks.

Between interjections of ‘scuse me, angel, gotta get into this cabinet and can you take over stirring for a sec? you answer all his questions. You tell him your favorite bands, the states you’d visited on a road trip when you were six, even giving him the whole “my mom’s a nice enough person but we don’t get along” spiel that you don’t usually get to until a third date.

If that’s even what this is. He’s scooping steaming noodles into two bowls, passing you one, leaning up against the counter closest to the one you’re sat on. Your knee rubs against his ribcage as you eat.

In between chews, he lets you ask about himself- his favorite bands, the states he’s never been but wants to travel to someday, the highlights of his golden years with his mom that he misses every day.

There’s a quiet lull, after your bowls are scraped clean and set aside. He helps you off the counter and tells you to pick out a movie; you load The Black Cauldron into the VCR and settle into the couch cushion.

Eddie puts an arm around you, lets you play with his hands for the bulk of the film, running your nails methodically across his palms. 

By the last act of the movie, you can feel your high beginning to fade, taking your courage with it; when the credits roll, you’re ready to call it quits and sleep off the hangover in your own bed.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Eddie asks, following after you as you tug your sneakers back on in the hall.

“Yeah, Eddie, I’ll be good. Thanks for the weed,” you say, pulling your jacket tight around your frame. “And for the- for everything.”

The smile appears again; the one that cuts deep dimples into his cheeks as he watches you step onto his porch.

When he says your name, you turn, keys in hand- “Yeah?”

Leaning into the doorframe like he had earlier, he cants his head, streetlight a warm glow across his cheeks. “You wanna know where I got my nickname, you come back in a few days. Sleep on it tonight.” And then he closes the door.

___

So, technically, he told you to come back in a few days, and showing up less than 24 hours later has to hint at being some sort of desperate. 

Which, fuck it, you kinda are, at this point. Frankly it’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long what with the whole being plagued with visions of Eddie Munson’s hands and lips and hair and that stupid fucking nickname every waking and dreaming hour you’ve spent apart. 

While you can appreciate the honorable nature of Eddie asking you to make a clear-headed decision, you’re wishing for a hundred things to take the edge off as you change out of the PJ’s you’ve been moping in all day.

Black tights stretch over your calves as you think of the whiskey you mom keeps hidden in the downstairs cabinet; denim miniskirt smoothed over your hips as you long for a deep hit of weed; hands shakily plucking your black tanktop into place as the urge to be anything but sober gets swallowed down. 

You make the ten minute drive to Forest Hills in silence (relative to the weird engine noises your hunk of metal car decides to make), wracking your brain for silver-tongued excuses but instead drawing blank after blank.

By the time you’re rolling to a stop in front of Eddie’s trailer, you still have no idea what you’re gonna say to him- only that something needs to be said. Max is at the Sinclair’s for the night, one less person to worry about witnessing you slamming your car door shut and walking right up to Eddie on his front steps.

He’s wearing a pair of overalls, grease-stained, shirtless underneath- the tail end of a larger ink piece peeking out against his ribs. There’s a lone bike tire on the ground, held steady by the spokes his boot rests on as he wrenches the middle hub, biceps rippling and flexing with each movement. 

Certainly a sight that would have stopped you in your tracks, on any other day. But you’re determined to have it out with the returning wingbeat behind your navel, planting your Converse in the gravel just before the first step that Eddie’s sat on.

He doesn’t seem surprised to see you this time, instead giving you a lazy smile on a half-tilt, wiping the tire oil from his hands onto the front of his overalls.

“What brings a fair maiden such as yourself to this ugly neck of the woods?” Eddie leans the tire up against the steps and rises to greet you.

You’re gonna lose what little nerve you have left if he touches you so you act quick, speaking as you cross your arms- “I need to tell you a few things.”

That stops him up short, just a few feet away as he inclines his head, hair loose around his bare shoulders. “I’m nothin’ but ears.”

A wet, rattling breath catches in your chest. You give a cursory scan around to confirm that the rest of the trailer park citizens are indoors, soft lights from rows of windows luminous against the darkening twilight sky.

“I have a… a thing,” you start, unsure of where to begin, really wishing you’d come up with a polished script on the ride over instead of being forced to flounder through for the right dialogue. “It started last year. With the mall fire?” 

When Eddie nods his understanding, you continue, in short starts and bursts, like you’re fighting with the words before they come out.

“Something… happened. To Robin, and Steve, and to- to me. It was really bad, for awhile, and then it got better, but I’m still…” your hands squeeze tight into the flesh of your upper arms, nails stinging. “I’m fucked up from it. And the only way I can talk about it is if I’m fucked up, too. S’why I can only hold a conversation when I’m drunk or flirt while I’m high, like there’s this bad thing inside of me that I can’t look at when I’m sober-”

There’s a frantic edge that’s slipped in to your voice and Eddie steps towards you, as if to soothe, but you’re not ready to give in yet so you take a step back, choking out the last few words- “I just- I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t, not yet, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

From somewhere in the forest behind, a bright chorus of crickets swells as you fix your focus on the ground, as Eddie’s boots crunch forward on the gravel, toe-to-toe with your sneakers.

He moves carefully, as if worried that you’ll spook- lightly brushing his fingers across yours, drawing your awareness to the fact that your nails are dangerously close to drawing blood, a sigh as you release.

“Thank you for telling me.” Unlike your own voice, his is low and sure as his thumbs brush against the red half-moons in your arms. “You’re really brave, you know that?”

He doesn’t leave room for you to dispute this, instead tracing the underside of your jaw with his knuckle, forcing you to hold his gaze, those deep brown eyes soft with empathy as he says, “I don’t have any expectations of you, ‘kay? I’ll be all ears when you need me to be, but you don’t have to spill all your secrets every time you come around. You wanna just watch shitty cartoons and keep my couch warm, that’s fine by me. Nothin’ else needs to happen.”

And it’s his acknowledgement of your admission, his softhearted way of letting you know that nothing needs to happen, that makes you brave.

Brave enough to tilt your chin into the lift of his finger as you say, “I didn’t just come here to apologize.”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob against the taut vein in his neck as he swallows, hard. 

“Yeah?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath and turns on his heel, motioning you to follow him up the stairs. 

Your eagerness is obvious as you scramble up the steps after him, heart starting to thrum in tandem with the flutters as he shuts his front door behind the both of you.

“Take your shoes off,” is all he says, in a low, strained voice, before turning into the kitchen.

Obedient, you drop to one knee and jerk apart your sneaker laces with trembling hands. 

Now on nyloned feet, you step onto the linoleum tile of Eddie’s kitchen. He’s faced away from you at the sink, taut lines of his shoulders rising and falling as he washes his hands.

“You’re sober?” He asks, still at the sink, drying his hands on a patterned teatowel. 

When you realize he can’t see your nod, you speak- “Yes. Yeah. As a judge.”

A soft exhale through his nose, amused, as he finally turns to face you. Eddie’s eyes do that hypnotizing dance- skipping from your chin to your eyes to your lips back up again- and you let him, feeling exposed to the point of nakedness with the intensity of his focus.

“I want to hear you say it.”

The sentence winds through the air, joins the wings in your stomach, sits low in your belly as you shift your weight from side to side, a gentle rock to ease your flayed-alive nerves. 

You say it. “I want your mouth.”

Eddie takes a step closer, nearly toe-to-toe with you again. Over the familiar layer of bergamot and fresh hand soap he smells like the outdoors, and faintly of mechanic oil, hearty and wild.

“Where?” It’s a single word, but with so much weight- suggestive, a taunt, an offer.

You breathe him in, eyes fluttering closed, ‘cuz brave as you’ve been it’s still hard to say some things while looking at him. “Want your mouth… on me.”

He crowds into your space, one hand gliding smoothly to set against your waist, the other fitted against your neck, tapping a thumb to your lips.

You part them, passive and wanting, but he doesn’t press his finger to the pad of your tongue like you’d hoped. Instead, he lets his thumb stroke to the corner of your mouth to make room for his own. 

“Where?” he asks again, this time into your mouth. You can feel the tip of his nose graze yours, pinpricks of his hair tickling your cheeks. 

“Please,” is all you manage this time, awash with heat when you feel his smile form. 

“S’okay, sweetheart. I’ll work you up to it.” It’s a touch condescending, skirting that fine line between tease and mean, the same tone of voice that has your thighs pressing together.

And then, he gives you what you asked for. His plush lips- the ones that you’ve been fantasizing about for what feels like eons- are pressing against yours.

It’s a kiss that starts chaste, tender, but soon devolves into a heady, fevered thing when you push your tongue past the seam of his lips. He melts into you, using the hand he has on your face to keep you steady as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, grazing his teeth into the plush of it before going back to twining his tongue with yours. 

There’s an audible wet click as he pulls away, both of your chests heaving in the quiet that follows; Eddie rests his forehead against yours briefly to catch his breath, and then he’s tugging you down the hall and into his room.

It’s pleasantly messy and lived-in, posters and photographs taking up most of the walls, guitar cables snaking and criss-crossing atop his dresser. You take a seat on the bed, hands tightening into the flannel duvet while Eddie begins to undo the buttons of his overall straps.

Wholly fascinated, you watch as he pushes the thick material from his body and kicks it to the side, leaving him in just his guitar pick necklace and a simple pair of black boxers. Now on full display, you drink in the sight of the most skin you’ve ever seen of his- tattoos at his chest and arms dark against the rest of him, pale and gleaming softly in the yellow light of the bedside lamp. 

You’re trying to figure out if the larger piece on his ribs is a dragon or some other mythological creature when he moves in to sit next to you, his kisses erasing all thoughts.

Eddie’s making these throaty little noises as you kiss; his hands track lines from your hips to your sides to your shoulders, your chest unconsciously pressing into his touch. 

When his thumb catches on the outline of your beaded nipple through your shirt, he hisses lightly, drawing back to look at you again- “Is this okay?”

You nod, but he doesn’t seem satisfied with that, tsking as he swipes with his thumb again, watching closely as you react silently to the touch.

“Hard to tell when you’re enjoying yourself if you’re quiet as a churchmouse,” Eddie says, in a tone that’s reminiscent of training a pet. “You gonna let me hear you?”

Your teeth catch on your lower lip as he thumbs across your nipple again, shockwaves coursing into goosebumps as you choke out, “I’m not s-so good at that. Not without- fuck- weed..”

Eddie huffs a laugh, a little derisive but you figure he’s probably got the right, seeing as how you’re this worked up and he’s barely touched you.

“You’re plenty good at this sober, sweetheart. Want me to prove it?”

His hand falls from your breast, extricates one of yours from the covers, and slides it up the meat of his thigh- then to the front of his boxers.

The first noise you make for him is a small gasp, one that matches his own as you cup your palm over the thick jut of his hard cock.

“Told you,” he says, sounding strung-out, his hand still closed around your wrist, “You’re doin’ just fine at working me up.”

You wrap your fingers around the bulge as best you can with the fabric of his boxers separating skin from skin, gaining confidence to explore as his grip on your wrist loosens. The black ink at his ribs expands and shrinks with the bellows of his breath, jolting and stuttering with each stroke of your hand.

Just as he’s drawing in a breath to speak, tightening his hold around your wrist in warning, you still your movements. Delicately, slowly, you slide out of his grasp and take his wrist in your hand, placing his palm on your own thigh.

The whole “reciprocating pleasure with sound” is still a hard one to give in to; maybe you can compensate for your hesitancy by showing instead of telling. You guide his hand up, into your skirt, parting your thighs until his fingers find the wetness soaking through both your panties and tights. 

“Fucking… jesus.” Eddie moves with the fluid surety that you lack, middle finger running up the seam of your clothed pussy, your hips jerking reflexively when he catches against your clit. “This all for me, princess?”

In answer, you lean to bury your face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. He lets you, taking the opportunity to hook your leg over his thigh, spreading you out as much as your fitted denim skirt will allow.

You pant into the column of his throat as he strokes you through the light layers, the fabrics grinding friction into your clit caught under his fingertip. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, cooing praises that have your stomach muscles tensing.

“That’s it, good girl, such a good girl for me.”

Your clit is throbbing now as he rubs you in small, quick circles, and you’re so close to falling over the edge that you have to pull his hand away.

Eddie picks up on your unspoken plea; he tugs the skirt down your hips then tosses it blindly over his shoulder, reaching for the edge of your tights. He slips them down your thighs, your calves, peeling them off you with reverence. When all that’s left is your best pair of satin panties, he maneuvers you up against the headboard and stretches himself flat on his stomach, nose pressing into your core.

That heat has come back, flashing through you with a vengeance as Eddie mouths at your pussy through the satin, sloppily but with purpose enough to have your cunt clenching around nothing.

You stay up on your elbows, watching that mane of dark hair bracketed by your thighs, but when Eddie pulls your underwear down and off your ankle your weight falls back against the mattress.

The flat of his tongue licks a wide stripe from your weeping hole up to spread the wetness around your clit. When he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your head presses back into the covers, hands grappling above you for something to anchor your grasp.

When Eddie flicks the point of his tongue against that bright spot of nerves your hands find a pillow to grip, and when he moans into your pussy the vibrations have you instinctively pulling the pillow against your face, teeth biting into the fluff, masking the whine that would have been loud in the otherwise quiet room.

You think you might be able to get away with this setup (what with Eddie seemingly focused on making you explode into a million little pieces) but there’s a sharp smack before the outer skin of your thigh is burning, white-hot from the kiss of his rings.

Eddie’s mouth leaves you only for the time it takes for him to rip the pillow from your grasp and scold, “Uh uh, none of that, c’mon,” and then he’s back at your clit, suckling with renewed vengeance.

There are little stars bursting at the edges of your vision, your hands shooting down to grip at Eddie’s hair when he pistons the point of his tongue against you again. Your hips are subtly bucking into his mouth, shaking thighs involuntarily closing around his ears. Normally you’d be concerned about Eddie’s air intake but going off the moans he’s burying in your pussy, you’d hazard a guess that he’s really into it.

As if in confirmation, he pulls off your clit with a wet pop, laving his tongue up the junction where thigh meets pelvis, voice sounding wrecked- “Doin’ so good, sweetheart. Fuck, you got me so hard. Gonna blow a load in my boxers like a teenager, y’taste so good. Gonna let me hear you? Hm? Wanna hear you.”

You’re dizzy with want as you prop yourself on your elbows again, mouth falling open as Eddie sinks two of his fingers up to the ringed knuckle inside your velvet walls.

His other hand comes to rest on the soft curve of your stomach, pinning you in place, before he looks up at you, black pupils nearly eclipsing the chocolate brown. 

“What do you want?” he asks again, patiently, as if he doesn’t have two fingers nestled inside your cunt.

Your efforts to grind into him are stopped with his firm hold on your middle, and he tuts at you again- but instead of a reprimand, he seems to soften a bit.

“C’mon, angel,” Eddie says, with such tenderness that makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh before encouraging, “Lemme hear you say it, and I’ll make it so good for you. Promise.”

“Want you to make me come. Please.” Your voice is unsteady, but it’s audible enough.

Eddie rewards you by sinking his fingers further, to the hilt, heel of his palm catching against your clit. When you let out a warbling moan, he nods- “That’s it,”- before setting a steady rhythm for fucking his fingers up into you. 

“Fuck, Eddie- fu-uck…” you’re trying, really trying to stay in the moment and not get caught up in the noises you’re making- for him. 

When Eddie reattaches his mouth to your throbbing clit and angles his fingers to hit into that soft, spongy spot with each thrust, you feel waves of pleasure start to wash through you. There’s just time for a choked “Shit, Eddie, you’re gonna make me cum,” before you’re spasming around his fingers.

Somehow, you manage to stay on your elbows, bracing your body through the convulsive shocks, white-hot stars joining the wingbeat rhythm as Eddie takes you apart with his mouth and fingers.

He moans, long and low, fucking you through it and then some- your orgasm has been completely wrung out when you push at his forehead, whimpering at the overstimulation. 

“No, baby, one more, please. Gimme one more,” Eddie lifts his head to plead with you, sweaty bangs glued to his forehead- and then he’s back between your legs.

It’s this moment that makes you retrospective. Sex with boys, in the past, has always been a quick means to an end: a few minutes of foreplay, tamping down your own pleasure for the sake of blowing off some steam. 

But now, pleasure was being given to you in spades by Eddie Munson, and you wanted to give it back to him.

You come on his tongue and fingers, again, stomach tightening beneath his warm palm, and this time you really loose the sounds caught in your chest: a strangled mix of your bliss-soaked whines with his name, Eddie Eddie Eddie. 

You feel the bed frame jolt below you both as Eddie’s hips thrust into the mattress in a frenzied tempo.

“Fuck me.” He pulls away, finally, panting into the side of your knee. He rests his head against your leg, lips tinged pink and shining wet, gazing at you with lust-blown eyes. “You are so fucking hot. Holy shit.”

Bashful as your peak wears off, you pull him forward so you don’t have to look at him when you whisper, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, princess,” he says, slumping against your chest and into your arms. “That’s going straight to my long-term spank bank. Number one. For sure.”

You slap playfully at his shoulder, and he rises on his elbows to kiss you- once on the lips, twice on the cheek- warm palms on the outside of your shoulders. 

“Are you… d’you need any help?” you ask, reaching to tuck his hair behind his ears, feeling the crush of insecurity leech in. “I dunno if you even- I mean, did you…”

From all the physical activity, your breasts are half-spilled out of your bra, and Eddie bends to kiss at the tops of them, affectionately, shaking his head as he goes. “There is no world in which I would’ve lasted, just now. Very noble of you to assume, though.”

He grins at your giggle, then says- “I dunno about you, but I need some new underwear. Wanna borrow a pair of my boxers? Bet you’d look cute.”

________

Later, when you’re both cleaned up, dressed, and full from a pizza delivery, Eddie invites you outside for a smoke.

You sit with him on the porch couch, legs slung over his, a big flannel blanket shared over both your laps while he smokes with the hand that isn’t on your thigh. 

There’s a crunching of wheels on gravel, and Max Mayfield’s bike lamp cuts through the dark.

“Hey, Heavy Metal,” she calls out, undoing her bike helmet and leaning her bike into its kickstand. “Are you done fixing up Lucas’s tires or do I have to keep hauling my ass all the way across town to see him?”

“I’ll have it done tomorrow, Red,” Eddie calls back, giving her a salute.

Halfway to her door, she remarks, “You two are gross, by the way,” 

You cross your arms in the sweatshirt Eddie loaned you, slipping into irksome older sister mode easily. “So how’d it go with your boyfriend, tonight, Maxine?”

She flips you both off, but you catch the smile on her face before the front door bangs shut behind her.

Eddie chuckles, smoothing his palm up your thigh, then takes another drag. “You gotta come night smoke with me more often, angel. The streetlights suit you.”

“Gonna get me hooked on nicotine, too?” Your sock foot pokes him in the ribs and he tuts, snapping it up in his free hand and digging his thumb into the arch of your sole.

“Fuck no, your teeth are too pretty to ruin. Want you to come keep me company while I destroy my lungs.”

Another cloud of smoke lifts dreamily around Eddie’s face. His thumb is working wonders on the tense muscle of your foot as you tip your head to rest on the back of the couch. With the nearby streetlamp, his profile is cast in a warm glow; you do a dance of your own, eyes taking in the strong slope of his nose, tracking down to his lips, back up to the wild curls at his temple.

Eddie feels you staring, turns to fix you with a quit it look that you can’t help but laugh at- “What, so you’re the only one who’s allowed to stare?”

“That’s right,” he confirms, leaning forward to set his cig in an ashtray, bullying his way into your space, rings cold under your chin when he tilts your face towards his- “Gotta pay the piper for that obvious violation, sweetheart. Sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

This time, when the flutter within you kicks up, you have a place for it to go- melting softly into Eddie’s lips. 

___________________

I wrote the last third of this while blasted please don’t judge too harshly lmao.

for more shy!Reader content: masterlist

[buckets-and-trees]

This look is so intense, so don't-give-a-fuck. It does darker things to me... And the hair is a bit messy. It got my muse spiraling down a bit of a dirty course of thought.

Title: Parking Lot Chem Characters/Pairings: raunchy!Bucky x curvy!female reader Word Count: 6.7k Summary: In a bit of a loser era, divorced, dirty, not giving much of a damn about anything, Bucky works a bit of an unconventional night shift that leaves him with a lot of time to kill.

Content Warnings: modern AU, hook up culture, explicit and rough smut, oral (male receiving)/deep throating, vaginal fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, objectification, naked vs. clothed imbalance, coercion, use of "baby" as a term of endearment, dacryphilia, praise, mild degradation (teasing/mean but not vicious), general dirty talk, slight innocence/ruining kink, implied cockwarming, cum play/marking, sex in a semi-public place

Author Notes: I moved to a new apartment in the spring, and I noticed kind of an interesting thing that happens on weeknights across the street from my place. It got my mind spinning, and months later, I'm finally playing with the concept.

Logistical Notes: My July entry for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky-Bingo using the DEEP THROATING prompt and week 9 of Hot Bucky Summer using the WET AND MESSY prompt.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“Fuck,” he whispers in the dark. Desire and adrenaline rev in his veins at the sight of your headlights parking just where he’d told you to, across the street from the business park complex, in front of the residential apartments.

Bucky’s been working this job for six weeks, and it’s a joke, but it’s a decent-paying joke of a job. From 10pm until 6am, all he has to do is periodically drive a pick up truck around around the large parking lot that services the two business buildings to the north and south of the lot, make sure no one from the apartments across the street to the east or west side park in the lot overnight, and ticket and boot any cars if a resident or visitor is stupid enough to roll the dice and try. Yellow-amber flashing lights affixed to the roof of the truck’s cab, it’s Bucky’s responsibility to deter and keep things clear so that the employees for the companies housed at this business complex can show up and park free of cars, at least one potential hassle eliminated from their corporate working routine.

Eight hours of paid nearly-free time, unbothered by anyone or anything, in the quiet of the night.

He won’t work this job forever, but it sure as shit beats some of the other unappealing options after getting fired from his last job.

He’s read a lot of books sitting in this truck’s cab. He’s played a lot of games on his phone. He’s started putting in a lot of applications for other jobs and even a couple of masters programs. He’s too caught up on news, memes, and social media.

A couple of weeks ago he decided to download a couple of dating apps again, fish and see what’s out there. He’s been divorced for two years now, and Steve and Sam have been dropping hints that he should try and put himself out there again.

Last week he downloaded an app he saw mentioned by a couple of people in chats on the other dating apps - this one known for being a thinly veiled “dating” app full of people who might not be looking for a date so much as a bit of unattached fun.

He started talking to you two nights ago.

There really were plenty of people who were trying to use this particular app for legitimate dating.

But there were subtle signs, particular turns of phrase, avenues of conversation that you could test the waters with to uncover someone else who just wanted to quench some thirst.

And here you were.

Bucky shifts the truck from idle, and drives down the row of parking spaces, turns left to slowly drive down the north side, looking like he’s making one of his routine twice-an-hour laps around the lot, and then takes another left when he gets to the end. He flashes his headlights, and then he smiles as he sees you push open your door and slip out of the car.

“Fuck,” he moans, taking in the first sight of you.

You hastily look both ways - confirming that no one is coming down the road at this godforsaken time of night - then cross the street and step up to the curb just as Bucky pulls up next to you.

He reaches across to push the door open for you - a friendly gesture, certainly not a gentlemanly one, as there is nothing gentlemanly about his intentions toward you tonight.

“Hi,” you say, almost a little breathless. He assumes you must be a little nervous.

That’s cute.

He’s going to ruin you.

If you took any notice of the way he leers at you as you climb up into the cab with him, you would know, and you might hesitate or rethink this poor decision.

But you don’t.

And now the wolf has his prey.

He won’t harm you, but he’s certainly going to have his way with you.

"Hey there," Bucky replies, his voice a low rumble. "Glad you could make it."

You settle into the passenger seat, your eyes darting around the cab nervously. The air feels thick with anticipation. Bucky drinks in the sight of you - flushed cheeks, slightly disheveled hair, the rapid rise and fall of your chest betraying your excitement.

He puts the truck in drive and cruises slowly through the lot, amber lights still flashing above. "So," he drawls, "first time doing something like this?"

You nod, biting your lip. "Yeah, I've never... I mean, I don't usually..."

Bucky chuckles. You might be lying, but he thinks it’s probably true that you haven’t hooked up on this app before. If you made a habit of it, this probably would’ve happened the first night you started chatting.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. You’re safe with me." His hand leaves the steering wheel, landing on your thigh. You inhale sharply at the contact, but don't pull away. And he’s not lying. You’re safe, but he plans to thoroughly ruin you before sunrise.

He feels your muscles tense under his palm, but you don't push him away. Instead, you ease into his touch ever so slightly. Bucky smirks, knowing he's got you right where he wants you. But he will play this out slowly.

"So," he says, his voice low and husky, "what you're hoping to get out of tonight."

You swallow hard, your eyes fixed on his hand on your thigh. "I… I'm not sure.” Then your eyes flicked back up to his. “I just knew I wanted to meet you."

Bucky's thumb begins to trace small circles on your leg, inching higher with each rotation. "That so? Well, I've got a few ideas of my own, if you're interested."

He feels the tiny shiver roll through your body, and he bites back a groan.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but tell me more about you. What’s a sweet thing like you needing a dating app for?” he asks, steering you into conversational waters. He wants you to get more comfortable with him, relaxed, so he can ultimately have you completely pliant for him.

You laugh nervously, a hint of self-deprecation in your voice. "Oh, you know. Work keeps me busy. I don't really get out much."

Bucky nods, his eyes still on the road as he steers the truck around another corner of the lot. "What kind of work do you do?"

"I'm in marketing," you reply, relaxing a bit as the conversation turns to safer ground. "It's interesting, but the hours can be long. What about you? Do you... always work nights like this?"

Bucky chuckles. "Nah, this is just temporary. Needed something to pay the bills while I figure out my next move."

His hand is still on your thigh, warm and heavy. He can tell you're acutely aware of it, of how his thumb continues its lazy circles, inching higher with each pass. Your breath catches as he reaches a particularly sensitive spot, and he stops with the circles, but leaves his hand there. He loves that you wore leggings. He can feel every movement of your muscles. You’re stupid for not knowing how intimate that is - or for underestimating how it would drive him wild. He continues to drive. He only needs to circle the lot every thirty to forty-five minutes, but he knows this driving is part of easing you further into this.

"So, marketing," Bucky muses, his voice a low rumble. "That must keep you on your toes. Always chasing the next trend, right?"

You give a small nod, your gaze flickering between his hand still resting on your thigh the unchanging view - familiar to him, but unfamiliar to you - as he continues to drive. "Yeah, it can be pretty intense. But I like the challenge."

Bucky hums in agreement, his eyes alternating between you and the road. "I bet you're good at it too. Reading people, figuring out what they want."

You laugh nervously. "I try. But clearly I'm not that good at reading situations, or I wouldn't be here."

Bucky's hand tightens slightly on your thigh. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. I think you read this situation perfectly."

His words hang in the air between you, charged with promise. You swallow hard, your pulse quickening.

"Just two people wanting to spend time together - nothing more complicated than that,” he reassures you. It’s not a lie. And then he leads you down a slew of safe paths of conversation. Your family, your roommates, where you went for college, places you’d like to travel, a bit about your social life. The more he asks, the more you open up. He clocks some of your responses, but he’s far more interested in how you’re feeling with him, the verbal and non-verbal cues he reads as the minutes turn into an hour. Twenty minutes into that hour, he’d been able to park in the middle of the lot, and you hadn’t batted an eye, completely at ease.

Occasionally your fingers fidget in your lap. Both of you have turned to angle your bodies toward the other. There’s no barrier between you - it’s a full bench seat across from driver to passenger side.

He decides to push things a little further.

"So, back to your marketing expertise?" he says, his voice low and smooth.

You playfully roll your eyes. “I’m not an expert. If I were an expert, I’d be driving a much better car already,” you laugh.

"No, no,” Bucky laughs along with you. “But you said you do have a pretty good job in your firm. Must mean you're… let’s say proficient at selling things? At... persuasion?"

You giggle nervously, maybe a little surprised at the turn of tactic. "I guess you could say that. Why do you ask?"

Bucky's hand slides up your thigh, just a fraction higher. "Just wondering what it might take to persuade you to do something a little... risky tonight."

Your breath hitches audibly. "What... what did you have in mind?"

He smirks, loving how eagerly you've taken his bait. "Well, we've got this whole parking lot to ourselves. No one around for hours. Seems a shame to waste such privacy.”

Another soft nervous laugh falls from your lips, and your eyes dart around. “I don’t know how private this is. We’re in the middle of an open parking lot.”

“Trust me, I’m the expert in this area, and no one is going to even come close to the cab of this truck.”

Your eyes widen slightly at his words, a mix of excitement and apprehension flickering across your face. "I... I'm not sure," you stammer, but your body language tells a different story. You've leaned in closer, your breath quickening.

Bucky's hand slides higher up your thigh, his fingers tracing patterns on the inside of your leg. "Come on, sweet girl," he murmurs, his voice low and persuasive. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

You bite your lip, clearly torn between desire and caution.

His other hand moves to cup your face, thumb brushing across your cheek. You lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

Bucky’s easy smile grows to a smirk. A few more cautious moments, and he knows you’ll be his. His hand slides even higher up your leg, fingertips just barely brushing the junction of your thighs. "How about we start with a kiss and see where things go from there?"

Your breath catches audibly, and for a moment, Bucky thinks you might refuse.

"I don't usually do this kind of thing," you murmur, even as you lean slightly into his touch.

"I know," Bucky says softly, his voice a low rumble. The wolf inside him is clawing at his chest to claim you, to ruin you, but he knows he can’t pounce yet. He needs you to ease completely into his trap.

Then you nod, almost imperceptibly. "Okay," you whisper.

Bucky's eyes darken with desire as he leans in, closing the distance between you. His lips brush against yours softly at first, giving you a final chance to pull away if you change your mind. But you don't. Instead, you press forward, deepening the kiss.

He groans low in his throat, his hand tightening on your thigh as the other slides to the back of your neck, gripping gently. The kiss quickly turns heated, all pretense of hesitation melting away as your lips move against each other hungrily.

Bucky's tongue traces the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you eagerly grant it. As your tongues tangle, he shifts closer, using his grip at the nape of your neck to tilt your head, allowing him better access.

You whimper softly into his mouth, your hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders. He can feel the heat radiating between you. His hand on your thigh tightens, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. A soft whimper escapes you as his tongue slides against yours, and he can feel the last of your reservations melting away. Your hands, which had been fidgeting in your lap, now reach up to grip his shoulders.

As the kiss intensifies, Bucky's hand on your thigh inches higher, his fingers ghosting over your center through your leggings. You gasp into his mouth, your hips instinctively pushing forward to chase his touch.

He breaks the kiss, chuckling darkly. "Eager little thing, aren't you?" he teases.

"I... I'm sorry, I just..."

"Shh," Bucky soothes, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. "Don't apologize. I like it."

Like is an understatement. He’s feral for it. For you.

He leans in again, this time pressing his lips to your neck. You tilt your head, giving him better access as he trails hot kisses down to your collarbone.

"God, you smell good," he murmurs against your skin, his stubble scratching deliciously as he nips at your pulse point.

You moan softly, your hands sliding into his hair. The sinful sound sends a jolt of desire straight through him. His other hand, still resting high on your thigh, begins to move with more purpose. He traces the seam of your leggings, feeling the heat radiating from your core.

"Bucky," you breathe, shuddering under his bold touch.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," Bucky murmurs against your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. His fingers continue their teasing exploration, tracing light patterns over the thin fabric of your leggings.

You whimper, your hips shifting restlessly. "I... I don't know," you breathe, your voice trembling with need.

Bucky chuckles darkly, nipping at your earlobe. "I think you do know. I think you knew exactly what you wanted when you agreed to meet me here. You just need a little... encouragement."

His hand slides higher, cupping you through your leggings. You gasp, your back arching as he applies pressure. "Is this what you want?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

"Yes," you moan, apparently unable to cling to the rest of your hesitation. "Please, Bucky."

He growls low in his throat, loving that he’s got you right where he wants you.

You dart forward, desperate to kiss him again, and he’s happy to provide you that distraction. One hand petting your pussy while you pant eagerly into the eager, open-mouthed kisses, he uses his other hand to unbuckle his jeans, undo the button, and lower the zipper. You’re so drawn in by his mouth and his ministrations on your clothed pussy, that you don’t even notice as he finally frees his raging hard cock.

With your attention fully captured by his skilled fingers and demanding mouth, Bucky takes the opportunity to guide your hand to his now exposed length. You gasp against his lips, pulling back slightly in surprise.

"What's wrong, sweet girl?" he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. "Isn't this what you came here for?"

Your eyes are wide, darting between his face and where your hand now rests on his cock. "I... I didn't..."

"Shh," Bucky soothes, his free hand cupping your face. "It's okay. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do." But even as he says this, his hips shift slightly, pressing his hardness more firmly into your palm.

You swallow hard, your breath coming in quick pants. For a moment, you hesitate, but then your hand wraps around him, stroking experimentally.

Bucky groans, his hips bucking slightly into your touch. "Right there. Just like that."

He draws your face back to his, and swallows you up in a wet kiss, his tongue fucking in and out of your mouth, stroking his tongue insistently against yours. He’s coaxing, reeling you back in, and he feels the fruits of his efforts as your hand strokes him with more fervor the longer he kisses you.

You’re lonely. He picked up on that, and he’s using it to his advantage. He’ll give you some of you want to get what he wants, as well.

Bucky breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to see you," he growls, his hand sliding up under your shirt. "Take this off for me."

You hesitate for just a moment before nodding, your fingers fumbling with the hem of your shirt. Bucky helps you pull it over your head, tossing it aside. His eyes darken as they roam over your newly exposed skin.

“No bra?” he chuckles.

You bite your lip and your eyes dart down, away from his face.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, leaning in to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. His hand cups your breast, thumb brushing over the nipple. You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.

Bucky's other hand continues its teasing exploration between your legs, the friction of your leggings adding to the delicious sensation. You're panting now, hips rocking against his.

"I want you to touch me," he says, his voice low and commanding.

You nod, your hand reaching for his cock again, but he catches your wrist, stopping you.

"Not like that," he growls. "I want your mouth on me."

Your eyes widen, darting between his face and his exposed cock.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he says, but the endearment drips off his tongue with cloying condescension, and he knows it, “You came out here at two am to meet up with a strange guy you only started talking to the night before last. You want to be used. Stop pretending like you’re going to resist. You’re going to let me do whatever the fuck I want with this body.”

You suck in a sharp breath, a wounded look in your eyes.

He chuckles and caresses your cheek. “Aw, you want it, too,” he coos. “You didn’t wear a bra, and I know you didn’t wear any panties either. When I peel these leggings off, your pussy is going to be bared and dripping and so eager for me.”

Your eyes flutter closed, but you don’t argue with him, and he guides you, hand on the back of your neck, to lean down into his lap. "Go on, sweet girl," he encourages. "Show me what a slut you want to be for me.”

Your breath catches. Bucky's words have struck a chord, and he can feel the mix of anticipation and nervousness in the air. It’s a heady thing, and he takes a deep breath as if he could inhale it. It makes his blood run hotter through his limbs.

With trembling hands, you lean the rest of the way in, your face hovering over his exposed cock.

"That's it," Bucky murmurs, his hand still firm on the back of your neck. "Open up for me."

You part your lips, and he feels your hot breath hovering at the head of his cock just a moment before you finally take him into your mouth. Bucky groans, his hips bucking slightly as your warm, wet mouth envelops him.

"Fuck," he hisses, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Good girl. Just like that."

You move slowly at first, getting used to the feel of him, mouthing at the head of his cock. But Bucky is impatient, using his hand, he guides you down more, urging you to take him deeper.

Bucky groans, his head falling back against the headrest as you start to work your tongue along his shaft.

"Fuck, that's good," he breathes, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Take more of me."

You comply, and Bucky's hips buck slightly, pushing himself further into your mouth. You gag a little, but quickly adjust, hollowing your cheeks, and he loves the feel of your soft, velvety mouth around his raging erection.

Bucky watches intently as you work your mouth over his cock, your lips stretched wide around his girth. The sight of you, eyes closed in concentration, cheeks hollowed as you suck, sends a jolt of pleasure through him. He can feel the wet heat of your tongue as it slides along the underside of his shaft, tracing the prominent vein there.

The wet heat of your mouth envelops Bucky, drawing a deep groan from his chest. Your tongue swirls around the head of his cock, teasing the sensitive underside before you take him deeper. The tight suction of your lips as you bob your head sends jolts of pleasure through his body.

Bucky's fingers tangle in your hair, guiding your movements. "Yes, baby," he growls. "Take me deeper."

You comply, relaxing your throat to take more of his length. Bucky feels the head of his cock hit the back of your throat and he hisses in pleasure. Your gag reflex kicks in, causing you to sputter and drool. Saliva drips down his shaft, making obscene wet sounds as you continue to work him with your mouth.

"Fuck, you're making such a mess," Bucky groans, watching as your head bobs up and down in his lap. "Such a perfect little cocksucker."

He’s watched a lot of porn since his divorce, and even more these past weeks in the middle of the night in this truck, and this is so much better, but surpassing even his own expectations. Too long since he’d been with a woman.

“Take me deeper." Bucky's grip tightens as he guides you further down his shaft. Your throat constricts around him, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. He can feel every swallow, every twitch of your tongue as you struggle to accommodate his girth.

"That's it, baby," he groans, his hips bucking slightly. "Swallow all of me."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you gag around him, but you don't pull away. Instead, you double your efforts, hollowing your cheeks and sucking harder. Saliva continues to pool at the corners of your mouth, trickling down his length in glistening rivulets.

The sight of you, lips stretched wide and chin slick with spit, is almost too much for Bucky to bear. He watches, transfixed, as your head bobs up and down, your tongue swirling around his tip before diving back in. Your lips stretch wide around his girth, glistening with spit and precum.

Your nose brushes against his pelvis as you swallow around him, throat constricting deliciously. He feels the vibrations of your muffled moan around his shaft and it sends sparks of pleasure up his spine.

"Fuck," he growls. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. That, baby."

The pleasure builds, coiling tighter in Bucky's core with each bob of your head. He's close, so close, but he doesn't want to finish like this. Not when there's so much more he wants to do to you.

With a growl, he tugs your hair, pulling you off his cock. You gasp for air, lips swollen and glistening, a thin strand of saliva still connecting you to him. The sight nearly undoes him.

"Stand up," he commands, his voice rough with desire.

You comply, awkward and shaky on your feet in the confined space of the truck cab. Bucky's hands go to your hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of your leggings.

"These need to come off. Now."

You hesitate for just a moment, but the fire in Bucky's eyes brooks no argument. You shimmy them down with Bucky’s rough help, and true to what he said, you’re now fully naked and exposed to him. His smile is pleased, possessive, predatory as you sit back down on the seat of the cab.

Bucky's eyes rake over your newly exposed form, drinking in every curve and contour. He loves the sight of your pussy, bare, a thatch of curls, waiting and glistening with arousal. He licks his lips, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

"Look at you," he murmurs, voice thick with lust. "So wet and ready for me already."

His hand slides up your thigh, fingers ghosting over your slick folds. You shiver at his touch, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

"Please," you whisper, voice trembling with need.

Bucky chuckles darkly. "Please what, baby?"

You squirm under his intense gaze, cheeks flushed with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. "I... I want you to touch me."

"Oh, I'm going to do more than touch you," Bucky growls, suddenly pulling you into his lap. You gasp as you feel his hard cock pressing against your ass. "I'm going to ruin you."

His fingers find your clit, circling it with firm, deliberate strokes. You arch into his touch, a breathy moan escaping your lips. Bucky's other hand comes up to cup your breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers.

"That's it," he growls in your ear. "Let me hear how much you want this."

You whimper, grinding down against his fingers. Your head falls back against his shoulder, exposing the long line of your neck. Bucky takes advantage, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there.

His fingers move lower, teasing your entrance. You're so wet, his digits slide in easily, and you cry out at the sudden intrusion.

"Fuck, you're tight," Bucky groans, pumping his fingers in and out of you. "Can't wait to feel you around my cock."

You're panting now, rocking your hips to meet each thrust of his fingers. The cab of the truck is filled with the obscene sounds of your wet pussy and your desperate moans.

Bucky's fingers work you relentlessly, curling and stroking inside you as his thumb circles your clit. You're writhing in his lap, gasping and moaning as pleasure builds.

"Ride my fingers, baby. Show me how bad you want it."

"Bucky," you gasp, "I'm so close..."

He increases the pressure on your clit, rubbing tight circles as his fingers curl inside you.

"Please," you whimper, your head falling back against his shoulder again. "I need more."

Bucky chuckles darkly. "Greedy little thing, aren't you?" Roughly, he pinches your nipple, making you jerk and cry out.

Bucky's skilled fingers continue their relentless assault, pumping in and out of your dripping pussy while his thumb works your clit. Your body trembles, teetering on the edge of release.

"You want more?" he taunts, his hot breath tickling your ear. "I'll give you more."

Suddenly, he adds a third finger, stretching you further. The additional fullness makes you gasp, your back arching as he drives his fingers deeper. His other hand leaves your breast, sliding down to spread your legs wider.

"Look at how wet you are," Bucky murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Your pussy's practically weeping for me."

His fingers curl inside you, finding that perfect spot that makes you see stars. You cry out, your hips bucking wildly against his hand.

"I can feel how close you are,” he growls in your ear. “Your little cunt is clenching around my fingers."

His other hand returns to roughly knead your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple. The dual sensations send sparks of pleasure coursing through your body. You're trembling in his lap, right on the edge of release.

"Bucky, please," you whimper, your hips rocking desperately against his hand.

"Please what?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous. "Tell me what you need."

"I need to come," you gasp. "Please, make me come."

Bucky chuckles darkly. "Oh, I'll make you come alright. I'll make you fucking gush for me."

He increases the pressure on your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles as his fingers curl inside you, seeking that special spot. When he finds it, you cry out, your back arching. Bucky's fingers continue to work you relentlessly, curling and stroking that spongy spot inside you as his thumb applies insistent pressure to your throbbing clit. He builds and builds his ministrations until you're a trembling, whimpering and writhing mess in his lap.

"Fucking perfect," he praises in your ear, his voice low and gravelly. Your desperate grinding is torturous to his cock, and he could explode just from rutting against you like this.

But Bucky doesn't let up. If anything, he increases the pressure, his fingers pumping in and out of you at a frantic pace.

"Don't stop," he commands, his voice rough with desire. "Keep going. I know you've got more in you."

You're gasping, your hips jerking erratically, and then suddenly the orgasm rolls over you like a tidal wave, and there’s a surge of hunger that spurs him on. Your back arches sharply, pressing your breasts into his rough palms as you cry out, your voice echoing in the confined space of the truck cab.

Bucky only intensifies his efforts, his fingers pumping faster, harder, curling to hit that spot inside you with unerring accuracy. He’s seeking even more, pushing you impossibly higher, your body trembling uncontrollably in his lap.

"Oh god, oh god," you whimper and strain.

And still he works your body.

You try and squirm away, but he’s so much stronger than you, he easily keeps you in his lap. He moves his other hand down to your pussy so his right can focus fully on fucking in and out of your hole to molest your g-spot while his left zeroes in and demands more of your clit.

And then you cry for him from both ends, a sob escaping your mouth as your pussy gushes, spilling wetness over him, soaking his jeans and the seat beneath.

You slump, slack in his arms, but try to lean and move away and off his lap.

Bucky laughs, triumphant, and wraps his arm around your waist to keep you pressed to him. He presses a hot kiss to your neck. His other hand wipes the wetness over your thigh, making more of a mess.

“You’ve never squirted before, have you, baby?” he speaks low, directly into your ear.

“No,” you sniffle.

He nips the lobe of your ear and turns your head to face him. “Aw, did I make you cry?”

You close your eyes, and more tears trickle down your cheeks.

He slowly licks a stripe up your cheek, relishing the salty taste of your tears. It makes his cock twitch.

“I wonder what other firsts we can tick off for you.”

You shiver, and he squeezes around your middle. “It was overwhelming, wasn’t it?” he asks, and you nod, eyes still closed.

He kisses your cheek, and you let out a shuddery breath.

“But it felt good, didn’t it, baby?”

You open your eyes and bite your lip, then a small nod.

“Such a pretty slut for me,” he praises, and then he’s plundering your mouth again, and you turn your torso more to him. He plays more with the wet mess of gush and slick over your thighs.

Bucky sears your lips with his mouth, his tongue delving deep as he tastes you. You whimper into the kiss, your body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasms. His hands roam your body, kneading your breasts, trailing down your sides, gripping your hips.

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips along your jaw, down your neck. You tilt your head, giving him better access as he sucks and nips at your pulse point. His stubble scratches deliciously against your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"You taste so sweet," he murmurs against your skin. "I could devour you all night."

His words make you shudder, and his chest rumbles in approval. Bucky's hands continue their exploration, one sliding up to cup your breast, the other dipping between your thighs to tease your still-sensitive folds.

You gasp as his fingers brush your clit, oversensitive and swollen. He chuckles darkly, circling the bundle of nerves with feather-light touches that have you squirming again in his lap.

Bucky's hands grip your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he maneuvers you in the cramped space of the truck cab. "On your knees," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "I want you on your knees for me."

You comply, your body still trembling from your intense orgasms. The leather seat is cool against your flushed skin as you position yourself on all fours, facing the passenger side door. Bucky's large hands run down your spine, making you shiver. He runs his hands over the curve of your hips, down to your thighs, spreading them wider.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "So eager for my cock."

You whimper in response, pushing your hips back towards him. Bucky chuckles darkly, one hand coming down in a sharp smack on your ass. The sound echoes in the cab, and you gasp.

"Patience, baby," he teases, soothing the flesh he just spanked.

Bucky's hands knead your ass cheeks, spreading them apart to get a better view of your glistening folds.

"Such a pretty little thing," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "And all mine for the night."

He positions himself behind you. His cock, hard and thick, brushes against your inner thigh. You shudder in anticipation. He groans behind you, and then he pushes the blunt head, angry head of his cock against your entrance.

"You ready?" he asks, teasing you with just the tip.

You whimper, pressing back against him. "Please," you beg, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky grips your hips, pulling you back slightly. The head of his cock teases your entrance, sliding through your slick folds. You moan, pressing back against him, silently begging for more.

"Eager little slut," he chuckles darkly. "Don't worry, baby. I'm going to give you exactly what you need."

Without further warning, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt inside you. You cry out at the sudden fullness, your walls stretching to accommodate his size.

"Fuck," Bucky groans, his fingers digging into your flesh. "So tight.”

Bucky's hands control your hips, squeezing tightly as he begins to move, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. The force of his thrusts rocks you forward, and you have to brace yourself against the passenger door to keep from hitting your head.

"Take my cock like the good little slut you are," he snarls.

Bucky leans over you, his chest pressing against your back as he continues to pound into you. One hand snakes around to grope your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. The other slides down to rub circles on your clit.

"You like that, don't you?" he pants in your ear, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "Like being used like a cheap whore in the back of a truck?"

You whimper in response, pushing back to meet his thrusts. The angle allows him to hit spots deeper inside you, drawing a groan from his chest. Has he ever been this deep in such a perfect pussy?

"Bucky," you gasp, "oh god, Bucky..."

"That's right, baby," Bucky growls, his hips snapping against yours relentlessly. "Say my name. Let me hear how much you love my cock."

He reaches around to the front of your pussy, fingers work your clit faster, matching the punishing pace of his thrusts. You're trembling beneath him, overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensations. The truck rocks with the force of his movements, the amber lights still flashing outside, casting an eerie glow over your writhing bodies.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Bucky groans, his breath hot against your ear. "So tight and wet for me. Such a perfect little fuck toy."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and he loves the way his words affect you as much as his actions do.

Bucky's other hand leaves your hip, sliding up to wrap around your throat. He doesn't squeeze, just holds you there, a silent threat that sends your heart racing, and he loves feeling how your pulse jumped at that.

"You gonna come for me again?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous. "Gonna cream on my cock?”

You nod frantically, evidently unable to form words as he keeps pouring and overwhelming you with pleasure.

"Answer me," he demands, tightening his grip ever so slightly on your throat.

"Yes!" you gasp out. "Yes, I'm gonna come for you!"

"That's it," he growls, tightening his grip on your throat just slightly. "Let go. Come apart on my fat cock."

His words push you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, your inner walls clenching around him as you cry out his name. Bucky groans, his hips stuttering as your pussy milks his cock.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chants, his thrusts becoming erratic. With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he spills his seed.

You both stay there for a moment, panting heavily, your bodies slick with sweat. Bucky's hand releases your throat, sliding down to rest on your heaving chest. He presses a kiss to your shoulder blade, then slowly pulls out, eliciting a whimper from you at the loss.

He brings his hand down to your wet, messy folds, and you twitch at the feel of his fingers, clearly oversensitive. He hums, collecting some of the mixed spend slipping out of you, and he rubs it over your lower back. He doesn’t want you to forget what a dirty girl you’ve been for him.

Bucky helps you sit back up, pulling you onto his lap once more. You're both sticky with sweat and other fluids, the air in the truck cab heavy with the scent of sex. He brushes your hair back from your face, his touch gentle after the roughness of your encounter.

"You did so well, baby," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "Such a good girl for me."

You shiver at his praise, nestling closer to his broad chest, your naked form cocooning against him, still fully clothed, only his cock ever coming unsheathed during all of that. He’s edging on a little too warm, but the coolness of the middle of the night helps. His arms wrap around you, holding you tight against him. For a moment, there's just the sound of your breathing slowly returning to normal and the faint hum of the truck's engine.

"We should probably get cleaned up," you say after a while, your voice slightly hoarse.

Bucky chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Probably," he agrees, but makes no move to let you go. Instead, his hand trails down your spine, making you arch into him. "But I'm not done with you yet, baby. The night's still young, and I've got plans for you."

You blink up at him, and he ducks in to peck at your lips.

“Let me just take another round of the lot, and then I’ll kiss you stupid, eat you out, and fuck you again.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he stops you with a quick kiss. He smiles when he pulls away and sees your eyes are falling hazy again. He strokes his hand up and down your spine, “Don’t worry, baby, you can stay right here in my lap while we drive.”

He leaves no room for protest, pulls the truck into gear, and goes for another round, looking forward to the rest of his shift.

Follow Up Piece: CAMARADERIE

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Read more stories from the Deliciously Debauched Labor Day Weekend!

Hi. Still with me? We made it!

I doubt the person who does this across the street from my window five nights a week is anything close to Bucky, but true story, someone's in this truck with the yellow flashing lights, and my mind wants it to be a dirty Bucky that I'd make the unwise decision to jump into a cab with.

[mxltifxnd0m]

heaven's in your eyes യ s. winchester

summary: you and sam are in a sticky situation and there's only one way to get out of it

pairings: sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x fem! reader

word count: 3.4K

warnings: vaguely set in season 3/4, fluff, mutual pining, slight angst, teasing from dean, sam in a tux (yes that's a warning), kissing, suggestive/spice, implied smut but no smut

a/n: i've had this one stuck in the noggin for a while and finally got around to writing it! this was heavily inspired by and based on the mall scene in captain america TWS between steve and nat and 3x6 episode with bela.

reblog and comment on the fic! I love seeing your thoughts on it sm 😊

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

You never thought you'd be in this position in a million years, feeling the heat of Sam's hands seep into the fabric on your waist as he pulled you in closer, sliding his leg between yours as your back hit the wall. This is not what you had thought would happen when you decided to ask for the Winchesters' help on your hunt.

You had run into the Winchester brothers after you had "accidentally" killed the witch they had been hunting. You had no idea that the three of you were hunting the same witch, but you had gotten to her first. You had no clue that the Winchesters were in the same town as you. Your paths never crossed until they found you hunched over the witch's body, blood splattered over your face and clothes, with the living room of the witch in complete disarray.

You looked up from the dead witch to see two tall mountains dressed in leather and flannel standing in the doorway. You remembered their faces were screwed up with expressions of surprise and puzzlement as you stood up from the carpeted floor with a grin on your face.

"Seems I beat the two of you to it." You said to them, slightly out of breath, and stuck out a hand for them to shake, introducing yourself to the two men who you deduced to be hunters. You instantly noticed that they were gorgeous. They seemed to walk straight out of a GQ magazine. But the thing that gave away the fact that they were hunters was how they held themselves like soldiers (and the fact they had guns in their hands as they burst into the house like madmen).

Your eyes were drawn to the taller one of the two (they were both pretty tall, but you could have considered this one a giant). He had shaggy brown hair with bangs that you just knew that he had to brush away from his eyes frequently and a nose that, if you followed the slope of it, you could see how it came to a cute point at the end of it. What really entranced you was his hazel eyes that memorized you as soon as you made contact with them.

They introduced themselves as Dean and Sam, the latter being the one you found yourself attracted to the most as his warm hand engulfed yours as the two of you shook hands.

From then on, you guys seemed to cross paths at least once a month on a hunt. Whether it was a nest of vampires, a vengeful spirit, or a pack of werewolves, the Winchesters and you would end up in the same place and time and end up working together. There was this unspoken agreement that the three of you would work together if you so happened to be working the same hunt.

During these hunts, you found yourself pining over Sam Winchester. You didn't know how it happened at first (okay, you do know how it happened, but you didn't want to admit anything at first), but you noticed how kind and sweet Sam was. Sam's empathy and positivity were a stark contrast to the bleakness you were used to as you worked on hunts, but it was a breath of fresh air for you.

It didn't help that the two of you got along like a house on fire. You met someone who could understand your weird niche literary references, match you in a battle of wits, and actually enjoy learning and the research aspect of hunting. And your yearning for him didn't stop there because it didn't help that Sam was devastatingly handsome and, at his core, such a gentleman.

The realization that you liked Sam hit you like a ton of bricks. So, you did what you did best when it came to your feelings, you ran. You distanced yourself from them. You would purposely dodge their calls (Sam's mostly). It was a dick move, and you knew it since they were most likely calling for help, but you couldn't bring yourself to call back.

But with this particular hunt, you were stumped and needed help. You had tracked down a necklace from the late 17th century that led a trail of bodies behind it. You surmised that it was cursed, and you needed to get to it and burn it. The only problem was that it was sold to a small museum owner in an estate sale from the previous owner and was going to be displayed in the town's museum for its grand opening, with the necklace being the main exhibit. You had no way of getting it without being caught, so you needed extra hands.

You paced the length of the motel room you were staying out, biting your thumb as you debated on calling in for some help. You would have called Bobby for help, but you knew he would just send the Winchesters over to you anyway. After pacing around your room, you bit the bullet and called Dean.

"Well, isn't this a surprise sweetheart!" Dean's voice filtered through your ears, and you couldn't help the slight smile that grew on your face at the sound of his cheery tone (even if you could hear the undercurrent of smugness in his words).

"Hi Dean," You greeted with a chuckle as you sat down on the edge of the bed, the springs creaking slightly underneath your weight.

"I hate to admit it, but I need your help on this hunt I'm working on." You asked as you bit your bottom lip, waiting for his response.

"You're in luck. Sammy and I just wrapped up a hunt here, where are you anyway?"

You felt your heart start to beat faster at the mention of Sam, which made you roll your eyes at your reaction to just a name. You told him the town and the state the hunt was in, and you could practically hear the grin in his voice as Dean replied.

"We're not that far from you. Just a couple hours drive from you."

"Well, if you're up for it, I could really use the help."

"Oh, we'll be there, sweetheart. Text me the motel you're staying at and the room number, and I'll let you know when we get there."

"Will do." You told him, and the two of you said goodbye as you hung up the phone. You fell backward onto the bed with a loud exhale. At least you had a couple of hours to compose yourself and try to breathe normally. You found yourself always short of breath while Sam Winchester was in the vicinity of you (you should probably go to the doctor for that, but it's not like you had good health insurance for a physical).

A couple of hours later, you heard the familiar rumble of the Impala just outside of the motel room. You felt something flutter in your stomach when you realized that you'd be seeing Sam after three months of no contact. There was a knock at the door, and after checking through the peephole of the door, you unlocked and swung the door open to be greeted with the broad grin of Dean Winchester, his brother, standing right behind him with a smaller smile on his face.

Dean had pulled you into a short but warm hug and brushed past you into your room, making himself home as you gave Sam a hug in greeting, feeling his arms wrap around you and squeezing before letting go. You could have sworn his touch lingered as he entered your room. You bit your bottom lip and released it as you shut your door.

Once Sam and Dean were settled at the table in your motel room and you on the bed, you gave them the rundown of what the hunt was and what you needed to do to get rid of the necklace. You were so engrossed in explaining your research and what you found out that you didn't notice Sam's eyes trained on you the entire time, a fond smile on his face as he listened to you talk.

"Not that we're not happy to see you, but this seems like a one-person job?" Dean questioned.

"That's what I thought too, but I found out that the necklace was going to be the main exhibit for the museum and unveiled at the end of the night. I was going to knab it beforehand, but this museum has pretty good security, and as much as I'm good at sneaking around, I don't have the measures to handle them without backup."

"We're just backup then? Oh, that hurts more than you could imagine sweetheart," Dean pretended to get shot in the heart, dramatically holding his chest.

You chuckled at Dean before you looked at Sam at that moment and caught him rolling his eyes at his brother.

"Quit being dramatic Dean," Sam said before his eyes met yours. "We'll help in anyway we can." The soft smile that was on his lips made you melt inside.

You smiled back at Sam. "Thanks, but there's another thing, it's a black-tie event." You winced a bit at your own words.

Dean groaned. "You're telling me I have to wear a tux?"

You scoffed at Dean's whining. "At least you could still hunt in a tux, wearing a dress makes it a little more difficult to move in."

A salacious grin made its way onto Dean's face. "Ah, but it's easier access if you know what I mean." He winked at you, and one of the pillows from the bed hit his face. You heard Sam chuckle, making your smile widen.

"Shut up, Dean. It's late, and the event is tomorrow. So you guys need to buy a suit and I need to go out and buy a dress." You all but shooed the brothers out of your room and bid each other good night.

Morning came faster than you anticipated, and the three of you went out for breakfast at the nearest diner before you guys went shopping for the outfits you needed for tonight.

"So, I was thinking, if the event is black-tie, wouldn't it mean this is invite only?" Sam asked while the three of you were eating.

You swallowed thickly and nodded. "Yeah, I was able to get two tickets, both of them with plus ones." The sweet old lady who ran the motel had given them to you, saying that she was too old to go and wanted to give them someone. She had given them to you since you had mentioned offhandly that you wanted to visit the museum after it opened.

"Good, I'll take the other ticket and Sammy here can be your plus one." Dean said with a wide smile as he patted Sam's shoulder. Your eyes widened at Dean's words, seeing the mischief glint in his green eyes.

You pursed your lips and looked at Sam. He had an unreadable face and looked everywhere but at you.

You cleared your throat to grab his attention. "Is that okay with you Sam?"

Sam finally looked at you and hummed. "Sorry, what?"

"Are you okay with being my date to the museum?" You clarified.

Sam nodded, his hair falling into his eyes as he did. "Yeah, it's okay." He reassured you, and the temptation to brush it away for him was at an all-time high. You couldn't help but feel a little disappointed when he did it himself.

From there, the three of you finished your breakfast and went out and shopped for your dresses and tuxedos, respectively. You had found a beautiful spaghetti-strap green dress; the neckline came at a v, exposing a large portion of your collarbone and chest, a slit on either side of the dress that went up to your midthigh. There was an open back that stopped right above your lower back. This was the first time in years you would wear a dress, and when you tried it on in the store, you couldn't help but get it.

Once you guys were done shopping, you went back to the motel to get ready. Dean teased you about how girls take longer, but you didn't dignify his teasing with a response. With a roll of your eyes and a wave of your hand, you went into your motel room to get ready and informed the boys to be prepared by 6:30 since the event started at 7.

You took a shower, shaved everything, and slipped into the dress. You did your makeup, and it was a little heavier than usual, having put some eyeshadow on your lids, smoking it out, eyeliner, and some lipstick to tie the look together. With your hair, you french braided the front of it, leaving some framing pieces out, and then took the rest of your hair and pulled it into a bun at the nape of your neck.

There was a knock on your door as you finished up, and you quickly left the bathroom and opened the motel door to see Sam and Dean in their tuxes. They both looked handsome, but your breath caught as you stared at Sam. His hair was relatively the same; it was just combed down, and some product was used to tame it. His suit fit him like a glove, and you gripped the door a little tighter as your eyes roamed his figure.

"Wow," Dean breathed out, breaking you out of your little trance. "You look great." Dean said with a genuine smile on his face. His compliment made you smile.

"Thanks Dean. You look pretty good too."

Dean scoffed playfully. "Just good? I think the words you're looking for are handsome, jaw-droppingly attractive or you know any adjective that means hot."

"Right," You drawled out. "Why would I lie to you?" You smiled sarcastically at him and laughed when his smile dropped into a scowl.

"I'll be in the car." He grumbled before stalking off to the parking lot and to the Impala.

You and Sam laughed at Dean before the two of you settled into an awkward silence.

You smiled tightly at him. "Let me get my bag and we can go."

Sam nodded, and you quickly grabbed your bag. You exited the room and locked the motel door once it closed. The two of you walked to the Impala and got in.

Once you had entered the museum, you knew you were doomed. Sam was acting like a perfect gentleman and date, always having a hand on you at all times, whether it be at the small of your back or your arm hooked around his as you walked around the ornate museum.

"I didn't get to say this earlier, but you look beautiful." Sam had whispered into your ear as the two of you walked into the museum, and you almost tripped on your kitten heels because of the sudden compliment. You felt your cheeks warm as you quietly thanked him.

The three of you decided to walk the museum and tried to find the necklace before it could be unveiled to the public. Dean had the first floor, while you and Sam had the second floor. Most of the second floor was the other exhibits the museum had. But you eventually found the necklace behind a locked room. Sam picked the lock to the door and saw the necklace in the corner of the room. The two of you carefully grabbed the necklace from the mannequin neck it was displayed on and put it in your bag.

Before you guys could get out of the room, you heard heavy footsteps heading your way. You started to panic internally as Sam looked at you urgently.

"Kiss me." You blurted out.

Sam's eyes widened. "What?"

"Look, we don't have a way out without being caught and public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable."

"Yeah, they do. Are you sure?"

You heard the footsteps get closer and closer, and you quickly pulled Sam down by his neck and placed your lips on his. Sam's hands found your waist as he pulled you in closer to his broad figure but also moved you backward until your bare back hit the wall.

His lips were soft and warm as they moved against yours, and you couldn't help but feel warmth fill your chest as you kissed him. Your hands made their way up his chest and wound up on his shoulder and hair, making him scoot closer to you, his leg fitting through the gap between your open ones and gasping into his lips as his thigh pressed against your core.

The door opened, and the both of you pulled away, slightly out of breath, and turned to see Dean grinning widely in the doorway.

"Well, as much as I love to see the two of you work your feelings out for each other, we need to leave before we get caught stealing a necklace."  

Your heart starts to beat faster than it already was at Dean's words. Sam had feelings for me? You thought to yourself as you looked at Sam, who was already looking back at you and seemed to think about the same thing.

Sam leaned down. "We'll talk at the motel." He whispered in your ear before pulling away and sending you a smile. You nodded and followed him out of the room, Dean leading the charge out of the museum.

You were nervous and antsy the entire ride back to the motel, having destroyed the necklace in the woods right beside the museum. You stared at the back of Sam's head as Dean drove, wondering what the hell was going through his head.

When you guys made it back, Sam had you followed back to your room. Dean noticed, and he started to make some teasing remarks about the two of you to keep it down. All you and Sam did was flip him off and go into your room.

After the door shut, you and Sam were standing in the middle of the room, staring at each other in a charged silence. You don't know who moved first, but the two of you were entangled in one another, hands pulling at clothes, lips, and teeth on jawlines and neck. Hips grinding into one another, low moans and groans filled the air as the two shared a passionate embrace.

Later, after the two of you cleaned up, you were tucked into Sam's side, resting your head on his bare chest, absentmindedly tracing his tattoo with your fingertip. At the same time, his hand trailed up and down your arm and shoulder and kissed your hair occasionally as the two of you basked in the comfortable silence.

"This isn't a one time thing for me you know?" Sam's voice broke through the calmness of the quiet room.

You turned your head to look up at him. "Really?" You asked him, and you could feel the corner of your lips threaten to twitch up into a smile.

Sam nodded a sheepish smile on his face. "I know I don't have the best track record, but I really like you." He said with a slight blush beginning to grow on his cheeks.

Sam had told you about his experiences with love in a late-night conversation you two had shared a couple of months ago. You could understand since you also didn't have the best experiences with love either and confided in each other about it.

But at Sam's admission, you couldn't help but smile widely as Sam. You moved from Sam's side to straddle his hips. He sat up a little, and you threw your arms over his shoulders.

"Well, you're in luck because I really like you too Sam Winchester." You leaned closer and brushed your lips over his.

You felt Sam grin as you pecked his lips. "Really?" He teased, his hands resting on your bare hips as he slowly moved them against his growing bulge under the sheets.

You kissed him hard before trailing your lips down his jaw and neck. "How about I just show you?" You mumbled against his collarbone and nipped at it before your lips trailed lower and lower down his body.

Maybe calling the Winchesters for help wasn't a bad idea at all.

[navybrat817]

How does Bucky handle you being sick? 🥺

I may have gone overboard, nonnie. 😂

Sick Day

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky takes care of you when you get a cold. He also takes care of the guy who may have given you a cold.

Word Count: Over 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, humor, established relationship, reader has a cold, implied smut, interrogation, Bucky Barnes being a ridiculously wonderful boyfriend in love (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I don't know where this came from. Maybe a bit of inspiration from @inklore here. 😂❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

When you had a hard time getting out of bed this morning due to a cold you caught at work, you tried to brush it off. Bucky immediately called in to take a personal day and said he had to take care of you, which forced you to take a sick day as well. It was for the best. You had a tendency to push yourself past your limit some days and he kept you in check.

You snatched a tissue out of the box beside you just in time to sneeze into it. With a pained groan, you scrunched up your face and dropped the tissue into the small pile in your lap. It took you a moment to sip your water, followed by your herbal tea. Though your throat was sore, you had to stay hydrated. You also had to get some rest.

Bucky wouldn’t let you hear the end of it if you didn’t.

“I hate this,” you mumbled to yourself before your boyfriend rushed into the living room to check on you, his piercing eyes searching the room as if to assess a threat.

“I heard you talking, baby. You need to rest your voice,” he said, adjusting the humidifier he set on the coffee table before his concerned gaze snapped back to you. “Wait. Do you need something? Do you not have enough blankets? I can get you more tea. Or I can put something on TV. Shit, where’s the writing pad?”

You tried not to smile as the massive shirtless supersoldier bustled around the room. He hadn’t seen you under the weather since the two of you started dating and you should’ve known he’d make a big deal out of it. Whether it had to do with growing up with Steve who dealt with all sorts of ailments or simply because it was his girlfriend feeling less than stellar, you weren’t sure. Either way, it was endearing to see the former Winter Soldier worked up over you.

He had nothing to worry about though.

“I’m fine,” you croaked before you went into a coughing fit.

Bucky’s eyes widened as he crouched beside you and brought the water back to your lips once you had yourself under control. His brows furrowed when he checked your forehead with his right hand, which made you fall in love with him a little more. You tried to tell him earlier to keep his distance so he didn’t get sick before he gently reminded you that he wasn’t exactly prone to catching colds thanks to the serum.

A silver lining from the pain he had to go through.

“You’re not fine. You’re sick. Well, you’re still 'fine',” he smiled a little, making your heart swell. “I used that in the right context, didn’t I?”

You almost went into another coughing fit as you giggled, the sound huskier and deeper than normal. “Only you would think I’m fine when I’m like this,” you said, reaching up to run your fingers through his silky chestnut hair. He hadn’t brushed it today. Too busy taking care of you. “And I’m not ‘sick’ sick. it’s just a cold.”

“It isn’t just a cold. Not to me,” he said, his jaw clenching as his vibranium fingers curled.

“I’ll be better before you know it,” you assured him, raising an eyebrow as his cheek twitched. “What’s the matter?”

Why is he getting himself worked up?

“I just don’t like you feeling any kind of pain,” he said, leaning up so he could press his lips to your forehead. He huffed as they lingered there. “I wish I could take it away and I can’t.”

It was a sweet sentiment, especially after everything he went through.

“I know you would if you could and it’s okay that you can’t,” you said. You understood where he was coming from though because you didn’t like the idea of him in pain either. He had a heart almost as large as his body and you were lucky to get a single ounce of his love. “Don’t worry, okay?”

“You’re my girl and it's impossible not to worry,” he said, a touch of possession and tenderness seeping into his tone. Belonging to him was as natural as breathing. “But I'll try to relax a bit.”

“As long as you try,” you said as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

Your head tingled from his lips before you frowned. This close, you could usually get a whiff of his woodsy cologne. Your eyes welled up when you inhaled again and couldn’t smell him, doing your best to blink the tears away so he wouldn't catch them. It was silly that you suddenly missed the comfort of that smell because your nose was acting up.

He didn’t need your tears on top of that.

But, of course, he caught your sad sniffle, which sounded slightly different from your cold sniffle. His body stiffened, like a cobra ready to strike. “Tell me what’s wrong, even if I can’t physically fix it.”

God, I love this man.

“I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I really miss the smell of your cologne,” you told him, your gaze probably nothing short of pathetic as you tilted your head to see his handsome face.

Your breath caught when he looked back at you and brushed a tear away with his thumb. There was nothing but love and adoration in those brilliant eyes of his. It made you feel lighter.

“That’s far from ridiculous because I smell amazing,” he teased, bumping his nose against yours to bring a smile to your face. “How about I spray the blankets after you take a nap and I make you some soup? That way my scent will be there even if you can't smell it.”

Tears clogged your throat as you gave him a nod, committing the moment to memory. You were used to going it alone before he came into your life. He couldn’t take the pain away, but he could make you feel better in ways that mattered to you. That likely comforted him just as much as it soothed you.

“That would be great,” you said, yawning a bit. “Can we watch a movie after my nap?”

“We'll watch whatever you want.”

You pulled him close so he could join you on the couch, knowing that his muscular and warm frame against yours would feel just as comforting and safe as the blanket that covered you. And he relaxed and quickly accepted your wordless invitation to wrap his arms around you, keeping you in his loving embrace. It was home and always would be.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said, closing your eyes as you nuzzled your head against his bare chest. “I love you.”

“I’ll always take care of you,” he promised, his vibranium hand moving in slow circles along your back as you began to drift off. “I love you, too.”

You let out a happy moan before you said one more thing. “And hunt down the person who gave me this cold, okay?”

With your eyes shut, you didn’t see the determination written all over his face. “You got it, baby.”

You were right as rain and back to work a couple of days later, thanks to Bucky caring for you and some much needed rest. Not even an hour into your shift though, Steve requested for you to meet him in the second lower level. You didn't hide your surprise as that was usually reserved for interrogations.

Which was exactly why he called you down there.

“What's going on?” You asked as you walked into the viewing room. Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Tony all looked your way, but didn't give you any sort of response. “Seriously, what's up?”

“You don't know?” Natasha responded, nodding toward the glass.

You followed her gaze with a gasp as you saw Bucky tower over some blonde male agent in the cell. Your boyfriend was almost unrecognizable with his face devoid of any emotion, dominant and on the edge of terrifying. It was a far cry from the loving side you were privy to, yet you loved this side of him just the same.

“Buck dragged John down here a few minutes ago,” Steve explained in a quiet voice as he punched the bridge of his nose. “Said something about him hurting you.”

You tilted your head as you looked at John, recognizing him after a second due to his punchable face. “Him? No. He didn't hurt me. He just bumped into me the other day in the break room,” you explained. Which wasn't that big of a deal to you, but probably offensive to Bucky. “But he didn't apologize.”

He also had a cold.

Oh, no.

“So, you had nothing to do with this?” Sam asked, chuckling as you lifted your chin.

“No, I didn't,” you replied as you bit your lip. “At least, I don't think I had anything to do with this.”

Your heart raced faster when Bucky pushed the sleeves of his shirt up and gripped John by the collar, the veins in his right arm popping out. You wished you could lick them. Maybe later.

“I know it was you, you piece of shit,” he said, roughly shoving the agent back into his chair. “You got my girl sick.”

Oh, Bucky.

You stared straight ahead as you felt the group collectively look your way, refusing to react under their stares. “Before any of you say another word, this is definitely not my fault,” you stated.

“Of course it isn't,” Natasha smirked. She knew Bucky loved to play the hero on your behalf even though you could take care of yourself. “Just enjoy the show.”

Your mouth fell open as your boyfriend slammed his left fist on the table, leaving a sizable dent as John nearly fell backwards in his chair. This guy was an agent? He was either new to interrogations or simply scared shitless of the former assassin.

Maybe both.

But you ignored him as you shifted your attention back to your beefy, perfect boyfriend.

When you had mumbled for him to find the person who gave you the cold, you didn’t think he’d actually do it. You weren’t sure how he narrowed down to John, but the former assassin was resourceful and you should've known he'd take you seriously. And, fuck, if it wasn’t slightly mortifying on your behalf and hot as hell watching him in action.

“That cold you gave her made her cry. You made my girl cry. Do you know what I do to guys like you who make my girl cry?” Bucky said through his teeth, bringing his fist down on the table again as John flinched and you smiled. With all the strength he possessed, you never had to worry that he'd hurt you. But you couldn't say the same for the frightened agent. “You're about to find out.”

You didn't think you could love Bucky more after he helped you get over your cold, but he proved you wrong.

And you could now add Bucky threatening people to your list of things that made you dreamily sigh and tingle between your thighs.

“Look, I'm sorry. I’m sorry! All I did was bump into her. It was an accident!” John shouted, putting his hands up in surrender and trembling when Bucky stood to his full height and cracked his neck. Your boyfriend waited a beat before he grabbed one of his hands and began to twist, making the agent pale as you bit back a whimper. “Fuck, stop! I won’t even breathe around her again. I’ll hold my breath! Just let me go!”

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” Tony asked you, taking out his phone to type a quick message as you hummed. Maybe you were enjoying it. How many guys went out of their way to scare someone who possibly gave you a cold? “Does the Manchurian Candidate know how much I’ll have to pay to keep this guy from suing him?”

“We can tell him it was a prank?” Steve suggested, bringing another laugh out of Sam as Natasha shook her head.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he flung the hand away, his hair falling in his eyes as you held your breath. He looked like a wild animal, untamed and stunning. “I should choke you. Make you see how long you can really hold your breath before you pass out,” he snarled as John rubbed his sore skin.

Steve snuck a glance at you, his cheeks a little pink when you put a hand to your throat. “I don't want to overstep because you're my best friend's girl, but you do know you just moaned, right?” He whispered low enough for only you to hear.

Oops.

“Oh, my god,” you groaned, putting your warm face in your hands to hide your embarrassment for a moment. “Is anyone going to stop him?!”

“Why haven’t you stopped him?” Natasha countered knowingly.

Because I’m too busy thinking of how I’m going to suck his dick so good later that I'll make him see God.

You took a breath as the ache between your legs got stronger and pressed the button beside the glass. “Bucky?”

He swung his head toward the glass and met your gaze even though he couldn’t see you. No matter what, he’d always be able to spot you. “Hey, baby. I found the prick who gave you a cold. Want me to beat the shit out of him?” he bragged as John paled.

“I love you,” you giggled from how sweet and ridiculous he was. “And no. I appreciate you defending me, but I think you can let him go.”

Tony playfully rolled his eyes when Bucky grinned. “Your crazy matches his crazy.”

True.

“Okay. I love you, too,” Bucky said in a light tone, his smile falling the second he looked back at John and smacked the table against the wall with a clang. The agent looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “Next time you see my girl, apologize and walk away. And the next time you have a cold, stay the fuck home or you'll answer to me.”

Yeah. I’m going to suck the soul from his body to thank him for everything the moment we get home.

And maybe the two of you could take another sick day to spend the day in bed.

Totally normal boyfriend, right? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Steddie Gladiator AU - Emperor Geta x Empress Reader x Gladiator Steve

Includes: lots of drama, power imbalance & abuse of power, infidelity, Geta is a cruel, sadistic husband to reader, forced intercourse & pregnancy, violent language used, character death implied, unhappy ending.

He was a slave who fought in the arena against his will. You were a slave of a different kind, married to an emperor against your will. By all accounts, your paths should never have crossed. Yet somehow, they did.

You didn’t even know the man’s name, and you didn’t need to. It didn’t matter that he was a slave, beneath you in every way…except for when he was on top of you…his muscular arms enveloping you, his thick cock pumping between your legs.

In battle, he was savage, vicious in his quest to survive the arena. But in your bed, he was everything the opposite of brutality. He loved you tenderly, cherishing you. Your husband the Emperor had never made love to you, only fucked you, not unlike the way he treated his concubines.

Geta was cruel to you, deriving pleasure from your sorrow, from both the physical and emotional pain he caused you. One way the Emperor achieved this was by taking you anally every single time he fucked you. With absolutely no concern or care with preparing you for penetration, your husband took what he believed was his by right. He refused to fuck your cunt lest he accidentally come inside you, because denying you the possibility of pregnancy was another way the Emperor expressed his cruelty. One of his more sinister goals was to ensure that his first heir be conceived with a concubine, instead of his wife. What a humiliation for you, Geta reasoned, to deceive all of Rome into thinking a whore could provide him an heir, while his own wife could not.

But your lover, the slave, the fighter, was gentle and sweet with you. He made love to you any way you wished, because for him, your pleasure was his pleasure. He avoided coming inside you, however, to avoid the suspicion of the Emperor. Should you fall pregnant, the revelation of your affair would be inevitable. And you both knew that if your husband learned of your adultery, he’d execute you both, brutally.

In private, the gladiator longed for you. He spent every endless night you were apart dreaming, (as you did) of an escape…of a world in which you could both be free.

Tragically, it didn’t take long for the Emperor to learn of your affair. However loyal your handmaidens were to you, they were not so loyal as to risk their lives to protect your secret. Geta had spies in every corner of the palace, always listening, always watching. The Emperor was a jealous, paranoid man. He frequently put servants to death whom he feared may be plotting against him. Always in the back of his mind, lingered the fear of assassination from one of his numerous enemies. Geta had very little trust in any of the men he kept company with. He trusted his wife even less.

Keeping your relationship with the gladiator a secret was virtually impossible, under the regime Geta operated. And even without Geta’s spies, your attraction to the gladiator could not be easily concealed. You watched him fight, seated beside your husband, who took more interest in your studying the gladiator than he did the fight itself. Emperor Geta wondered what it was about this slave, apart from all the others, who had captured your affection in such a way? He envied the lust you clearly felt for him. Geta saw the way you squirmed in your seat while watching this man fight, in a way you never did for any of the other hundreds of slaves who had fought and died in front of you. Geta noticed the way your hands rested on your lap throughout each battle, how your fingers dipped ever-so-subtly to touch yourself when you thought your husband wasn’t looking.

A twisted new idea bloomed in the Emperor’s depraved mind. How exciting would it be, he imagined, to confront his wife and her lover in the midst of committing their sin? The following night, flanked by two armed guards, Geta ambushed you and your lover in your bedchamber. As his men drew their swords, he threw himself across your body, shielding you. “Do not take her life, I beg of you,” the slave implored, anger simmering in his eyes like fire. “If revenge is what you desire, then pay what is owed with my blood-.” He swallowed, squeezing your wrist. “-Not hers. She is innocent of all wrong. I…” Your lover quickly formed a lie, which he hoped would convince the Emperor to spare you. “…I forced myself upon the Empress, your grace. I attacked her while she slept, unattended by her maids-.”

Geta interrupted by clapping his hands in a sarcastic applause. “Your lies are noble, slave,” Geta jeered. “Quite an excellent performance, in fact. But unfortunately for you and my wife, your efforts at deceit are made in vain.” The Emperor’s wild eyes landed on you, a chill crawling under your skin. “I’ve known of your traitorous affair for weeks, my wife.” He took a step toward you, his pale skin illuminated like a ghost by the single candle burning at your bedside. He reached to touch you; you flinched when his cold skin made contact with your cheek. Geta smirked wickedly, before shifting his attention to your lover.

“It has been reported,” the Emperor continued. “That when you fuck my wife, your seed never enters her.” Geta tipped his head, curious. “Why is that, slave?” When your lover failed to respond immediately, the Emperor shoved his face within an inch of the gladiator’s, and shouted “TELL ME, while you still have the luxury of breath!” He spat at your lover’s eyes, as tears streamed from yours.

“It is a protection, my lord,” you managed to say, your voice high and wavering. “He did not want to overstep a line, by making me with child-.”

Geta interrupted with a cruel, maniacal laughter that startled even the guards behind him. “Overstep a line?!” he parroted back at you. “As if allowing a filthy slave to touch you was not?? His body still caked in dirt and blood from the arena-?” Geta struck you across the cheek, making you cry out. Your lover lunged for the Emperor, and was met with the tips of two swords placed at his neck.

“I once thought,” Geta mused, an eerie calm tinting his speech. “That to sire an heir with a concubine would be the ultimate method of humiliating you, my darling.” His fingers caressed the raised welt forming on your cheek where his hand had struck you. “But I clearly lacked imagination,” he continued. “Because perhaps nothing would shame you more, dear wife, than to be forced to carry the child of a slave…” Geta smiled villainously, his body teeming with a quiet rage. “…Forced to watch your lover killed,” he continued. “Brutally, horribly…while carrying the bastard child he’ll never have the chance to know-.”

The gladiator jerked, prompting the guards’ blades deeper against his flesh, piercing it slightly. “-That,” Geta concluded. “Would be the ultimate punishment befitting a traitorous whore like you.” He stepped back, encouraging his men to do the same. As their blades left your lover’s neck, he turned to face you, his eyes desperate and longing, moving a hand to tenderly caress your wound.

“You will impregnate her,” the Emperor demanded, nodding to the bed on which you both were seated. “Now.”

The gladiator took your hand, squeezing it gently, his expression defeated.

“Let her know the pain,” Geta added, a sick grin on his lips. “Of feeling a dead man’s child kick and squirm in her polluted womb…”

You bit your lip to restrain a flood of tears that begged release, looking into the eyes of the man you loved. His tenderness was the only love you’d ever received, and he’d given it freely, knowing the risk it carried.

“NOW!” Geta shouted, his voice rattling with rage, spit flinging from his mouth. The gladiator nuzzled his nose against yours, his hand still softly caressing your cheek, his voice low and gentle as he whispered, “it is only us…” You tried not to sob as he repeated, his words a hypnotic balm, “it is only…us…you and I alone, my love…”

As you sank gratefully with him inside the fantasy his words encouraged, the world around you both began to fade. Your husband’s voice felt far away, as he shouted once more for the slave to obey his command. And like a dream, a beautiful dream you’d lived so many times before, your lover laid you softly back against the bed…and made love to you, for the very last time…

[bratphilia]

office chair (w. afton x reader)

request: "hi angel!!! ummmmmm…….. could you possiblg write some big age gap, lap riding and kissing + teasing with steve raglan/mathew lillard william? asking for a friend.."

note: sorry it's a little short but i hope you enjoy anon!!

pairing: steve raglan / william afton x reader

tags: age gap (reader is 18-21, william is like 45-50+), dry humping, riding, make out session, implied friends w/ benefits

you're in his office. again. surprise, surprise. but you both knew what you were getting into the moment you locked eyes in the waiting room of his office. especially once he locked the door behind him after you entered.

steve has had you on every surface of this office. even up against the walls. bent over the desk, on the little couch in his office — fuck, even on the floor.

you don't quite know what it is that makes him so attractive to you. he's a weird guy, to be honest. he's enigmatic and distant about his past and his emotions, whenever you've tried to actually talk to him. for now, you chalk it up to his age. you've never seen what he looked like when he was younger, but he aged like fine wine.

anyways, you're sitting in his lap in his desk chair. you've been in this exact position many times before, but that never takes away from how exciting it is. he's cradling your face with his hand and in control of the kiss you two are entangled in.

steve's mouth moves against yours, slow and sensual. his tongue guides yours in a slow dance. sometimes it's rough when he has little patience, or running on a low budget of time, or when he deals with an annoying client. but this time, the two of you have all the time in the world. whenever the two of you break apart for air, you press your foreheads together, listening to each other breathe.

over the time of your kiss, you become increasingly needy. so much so that steve takes notice. "want me that badly, huh?"

you begin grinding your hips against his jeans. the friction feels absolutely delicious against your clothed clit, making you whimper. "'need you."

he chuckles. "you already have me, sweetheart."

"steve, please."

he takes a moment to appreciate you. wandering eyes travel down and up your body, to where you're pushing your hips against him desperately, to your heaving chest, and to your eyes squeezed shut as you chase any kind of relief you can get. "i won't torture you, baby."

your heart soars. you hop off his lap, begrudgingly, and for a moment you miss being close to him, but he starts unbuckling his belt, practically making you salivate. he only pulls his cock out, leaving on his pants on. you wordlessly follow suit and take off your panties. purposefully, you leave your skirt on. you know all too well how he likes it.

he pats his thighs to beckon to to come sit. your heart thumps already with excitement. you hop on his lap, instantly sinking yourself down on his hard length. the both of you moan in unison. steve's hands find their way to your hips and pushes your pencil skirt up so it's bunched around your lower waist.

"ride me, baby," he almost grunts. you place your hands on his shoulders and begin to move at a slow pace. moving up and down, up and down, up and down.

steve is leaned back lazily. his gaze switches from your pretty face and down to where your pussy is sliding against his cock. his expression is just too good. flushed red face, sweat beading on his forehead, and pupils dialated.

you try to move faster but it's hard with your stamina and the position you're in. "help me out?" you ask in a sweet, fucked out voice, one that's music to his ears.

without another word, he uses his grip on your hips to guide you at a faster pace. soon enough, you're riding him with reckless abandon. your moaning freely at this point and the sounds you're making bring him closer to the edge.

knowing how much you love it, he leans forward and whispers dirty praises in your ear. "you're doing so well f'me, love dove, riding my cock so well."

"mmm," you moan in response. you wrap your hands around his neck and he takes the initiative to bury his face is the crook of yours.

you feel your own orgasm approaching as your whining gets louder. you both stopped caring who hears you a long time ago. steve can feel his own orgasm approaching closer too as his own grunts and groans increase in longevity.

he pulls you down and up on his cock faster, encouraging your movements. "come on baby girl, come for me. come for me, i'm close too."

the both of you finish at the same time. he pulls you down on his member to sit still as hot spurts of his cum shoot into you. you both moan at the same time as you take in the feeling of your insides being painted by him and your pussy clenching around him.

when the both of you calm down, the room is filled with the quiet sound of breathing. steve doesn't pull out yet and holds you close to him and peppers kisses on your face, your neck, and your chest, while you lay your head on his chest.

[lostgirlmuseum]

Dancing Spies

Pairing: Bucky x gn!Reader 

Words: 900

Summary: You and Bucky are undercover at a ball and he’s not ready to let go of you.

Warnings: Reader is mentioned to have hair + height implied to be shorter than Bucky. Idc how tall you are, you're 6 feet? OK well in this universe Bucky is 7ft, etc lol. No use of y/n.

A/N: IM BACK BABY! Ok not really lmao this was 90% written since April 2022 (holy shit over a year before I even started posting here.) As always, sorry it’s short, sorry if it sucks, but also I’m not that sorry if it sucks because it’s short so it’s not like I’m wasting hours of your time. Idk if anyone is even going to read this.

Also: special thanks to @questionableratatouille00 for being so patient and kind to me. ❤️

divider cred: @saradika

“I didn’t realize you could dance,” you mumbled into his ear as you stepped in time to the soft music.

“Well, there wasn’t that much to do in the 30’s,” Bucky adjusted his grasp on your waist to be more comfortable, “with, y’know, the Great Depression and everything.”

“Ah, yes, a time of great prosperity, wasn’t it?”

“Definitely.” He gave a short chuckle, and continued to gaze around at the other couples dancing around him. He wasn’t avoiding your gaze—he was simply doing his job. At least, that’s what he tried to convince himself. 

A sweet chorus of piano and violin flew through the air, enchanting the large group of people into following in time. Despite his watchful eyes lingering upon the room for the past ten minutes, he couldn’t tell you any details.

How many couples were there? What was everyone wearing? How big was the dance hall? He could only guess, as his mind was solely focused on his steps, and the person in front of him: how close you stood next to him, how he could smell the faintest scent of lavender from your hair, how your hand sat so tenderly upon his shoulder, and how he wished he could take his gloves off so he could get a better feel of your gentle hand intertwined with his right. 

“How much longer, do you think?” you whispered.

“M’ not sure. Until Steve gives the signal, which could be anywhere from now to twenty minutes.” He only allowed himself a quick glance of you as he twirled you outward and back in.

“I doubt it’ll be twenty minutes. I think ten is more reasonable.” 

“It could be twenty,” he argued.

“That would be way too long, there’s too much risk in that.”

“Twenty minutes is fine. There’s nothing wrong with twenty minutes.”

Sensing you were looking at him, he met your gaze. 

Your eyebrow was slightly arched, and you gave him a small look of confusion at his strange… passion. Nevertheless, you dropped it, deciding not to question him.

He felt a slight tug of guilt at his heart for acting weird, but truthfully, he simply hoped this moment wouldn’t end. It felt right. He didn’t want to accept that it could be over so soon.

Naturally, as if the entire room was choreographed, everyone slowed as the song ended, and another started. This song was even slower than the last, and couples pulled each other close accordingly. 

You and Bucky did the same. 

Bucky’s breath hitched at the closer proximity, and he prayed you couldn’t feel his rapid heartbeat now that you were practically chest to chest, and both your arms were wrapped around his shoulders as his rested on your waist.

“Hey Bucky,” you said so quietly, it was barely a whisper.

“Yes?”

“I get that you’re trying to be alert, but you need to stop looking behind me. It’s not natural.” 

His cheeks flushed at your comment, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Yeah, okay.” He hesitantly looked down and met your welcoming eyes.

“Better,” you softly smiled.

He curtly nodded.

They continued to slowly sway along with the music. But the tune only served as white noise for him as he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. Luckily, you hadn’t caught him staring, since you had placed your cheek onto his chest, nuzzling into the warmth. 

He liked that you felt safe with him. Safe enough to rest your head on him. Safe enough to let him hold you with both hands, and not cower at what those hands had once done. 

His shoulders relaxed at the sound of a soft sigh from your lips.

“Comfortable?” He leaned his head down slightly to whisper into your ear.

“Mhm.” You confirmed.

“Tired?” He breathily laughed, seeing your eyes closed.

“Only a little,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes shut. 

He was content with where he was. It wasn’t the most familiar feeling for him, but he liked it. 

His thoughts were no longer focused on the mission(not that they ever really were—the second he found out that the two of you were meant to be a couple dancing on the main floor, he was distracted by you and the possibilities of what would happen,) and he remained focused on you. Your soft and slowing exhales, the affection you spawned in his chest, and how beautiful your hair looked. 

Seeing you at peace, put him at peace.

He could feel himself smiling as he watched you. His tongue flicked over his lips like it always does when he’s about to make a decision. He started to lean his head down to rest on top of your head when he paused.

Is this a good idea?

Screw it.

He rested his chin ever so carefully on your head, and couldn’t hold back his growing smile when you made no effort to move.

“I wish this was real life,” you sighed. “No more fighting. Just dancing.”

Motion from above caught his attention. Steve tipped his hat—the signal. 

Bucky just looked back. He continued to sway with you, shielding you from the outside world with his chest. 

Steve, slightly taken aback at his friend’s lack of action, tipped his hat twice more.

Bucky subtly shook his head and returned his gaze to you.

“Have we gotten the signal yet?” You murmured, eyes still closed.

“Not yet,” he whispered. “Let’s just dance.”

If you liked it pls let me know so I know I'm not just screaming into the void.

photo credit

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

Lonely

Paring: Innocent!reader x dads!friend!Nat

Summery: You looked lonely Natasha could fix that

Warnings: SMUT, pervy Nat, innocent reader, (legal) age gap, masturbation, intersex nat, oral, fingering, p in v, slight degradation, pet names, anal play, manhandling, fluff at the end, implied aftercare,

Word count: 1.8k

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional!

AN: @xxforeverinadayxx it’s a bit late but I hope you like it

Masterlist

ꕀꕀ ─── ⋆⋅ ✨🌞✨ ⋅⋆─── ꕀꕀ

Natasha knew very well how morally wrong her behavior was but how could she help herself when you were this cute. She was aware of the fact that Steve had an adult daughter but until this burning summer in Italy she had yet to meet you. But time came and Natasha found herself living with the most beautiful girl alive. Natasha had tried to spend as much time as she could with you, trying to find out everything about you. She’d take you on cycling trips and read to you your favorite novel while laying in the grass. You had been enchanted by Natashas presence. She was kind and yet smart. She happened to like the same authors as you and treated you like an adult, and not like your father who always shielded you. You didn’t want to accept it but you quickly had a crush on the older woman. In your eyes she was just perfect.

Who could’ve known that all of that was just a facade Natasha had put on to hide her true perverted fantasies. She had wanted you from the moment you first stepped down the stairs only wearing a light summer dress who looked so beautiful on you. She couldn’t flirt with you like she would with any other girl. No. Natasha had to be smart about it. She couldn’t risk Steve picking up on her true intentions with you. Natasha also of course didn’t want to do anything to you that you didn’t want. She might have been a pervert but she wouldn’t step over that boundary. Natasha knew exactly what she was searching for when she forged through your drawer. Her long fingers delicately caressing over the light pink cotton fabric of your panties. Her breathing was heavy as she quickly stuffs the the piece of fabric into the back pocket of her suit pants.

She’d do it like she did many times before on her summer vacation at your fathers mansion. Natasha would take the piece of clothing to her room and deep in the night when everyone else would be asleep her hands would find their way into her boxers. Moving her hand up and down her shaft as she whimpers your name quietly wishing it would be your smaller hands instead. She would grunt and moan muffled by her pillowcase. She’d cum into your panties cleaning her seed from the deep red tip of her cock. The next day while you would be in the garden she would put it back neatly folded hoping you would notice the difference which was a false hope. You weren’t aware why your “fresh” underwear had crusty but you chose to ignore it.

She quickly fled the room through the connected bathroom as she quickly hides the panty in one of the drawers of her nightstand. She moved on her turning to her bed as she grabs some book and pretended to read as she hears your light knocking on her door. “Come in Bambi” you could her her mumble as you pushed the heavy wooden door open. Her nicknames never failing to make you want to melt. Your feet make their way across the floor before you take a seat on the side of Natashas bed. “What brings you here” her voice was husky coming out almost as a whisper. You had your eyes located on your lap as you could hear Natasha move behind you. “I felt lonely” You could hear her chuckle in response as she moves beside you. “Is Steve home” You shook your head “He said that he won’t be home till late at night today”

Natashas smirk was devilish as she knew now was the time she could finally shoot her shoot. “And he left you all alone with me?” You didn’t answer her. The question was more rhetorical than anything. “Tell me pretty girl” her hands moved to your chin making you meet her lustful gaze “Do you feel something 'down there' when I touch you” Your cheeks turned a light shade of red. You were too embarrassed to say it but she was right. You slowly nod and making Natasha the happiest woman alive. “What do you do then” “W-Well I-” Natasha cut you off “No Олененок I want you to show me. Show me what you do to make those feelings go away” Your movements were shaky as you laid your fragile body on her kingsized bed. Your hands had found their way towards the waistband of your shorts as you slowly dragged them down your feminine legs. You had revealed your undergarments, a white pair with flowers on them. Natasha smirked as she saw the pair. She was familiar with it once having right her under her hips as she wished she had you instead. However her time had come, she had finally had you all to herself. You disposed of your panty too as you left your dripping cunt on full display for Natasha who was sitting between your spread ankles. Her breathing got more rapid as she could feel herself het harder and harder. Your hands had found their way towards your clit rubbing the bundle of nerves in tight circles as you kept releasing moan after. Natasha looked at you with a pitiful expression it was clear that you didn’t really knew what you were doing. The older woman highly doubt that you’ve ever managed to made yourself cum judging by your inexperienced movements.

“Let me help you pretty girl” Natasha was fast to strip from her shirt throwing it somewhere behind herself as she moved between your legs. Your legs were thrown over her shoulder as she took a long lick from the bottom of your cunt right up to your clit. Your hands carefully grabbed Natashas hair not wanting to hurt her. Natasha kitten licking between your folds, the taste making her hum deeply. The vibrations making you release soft moans. You tried to buckle your hips making the release seem closer. Natasha responded in slamming her forearm down on your hips grounding your hips. You whimpered and Natasha just laughed “Have you ever tried to you know use your little fingers Зайка” she mumbled against your puffy cunt. Forming words seemed incredibly difficult even through Natasha hadn’t really done anything “N-Never” you managed to get out. Natasha gave you a fake look of pity between your legs “Let’s pop that cherry shall we?” It was again a rhetorical question, how could you ever say no to Natasha. “Will it hurt” I whimpered looking at Natasha through hooded eyes. “Зайка, I’m not gonna lie it will hurt a bit but you will feel so good” She rubbed my thighs trying comfort me into believing her and I did.

“Do it… but be gentle… please” the last part came out mote desperate than you had intended to. “I’ll try Зайка” she whispered against the soft flesh of My stomach kissing her way down again. She carefully inserted one of her long fingers making me groan in pain as she ripped my hymen even drawing a few drops of blood on the white sheets. Natasha groaned as she saw and felt it. She knew it was wrong being obsessed with taking her friends daughters virginity but she couldn’t help herself. “Fuck baby you’re so tight” he breathed out as she can feel your walls clenching around her finger as she pushed it in and out. The pain of her fingers soon turned into pure pleasure as you moaned like a whore in a brothel. She added a second finger on which you clench down even harder sucking her in. “Fuck you’re even tighter then you thought you little slut.” Her movements got faster and rougher having me moan louder as you climax all over Natashas fingers and hand. You eyes are glued shut as you try to calm yourself.

You can feel Natashas strong hands on your hips turning you onto your stomach. Your face is pressed into the pillows as she pushes your hips up your knees touching the soft fabric of the sheets. You can hear the sipper of her pants followed by the sounds of her undressing. Natasha was painfully hard, her large member standing proud as she places herself behind you. Her tip pressed against your clit as you whimpered for her. “Are you ready for the real deal Зайка” She didn’t give you much time to respond as she pushed inside your hole making you scream out only for it to be muffled by the pillow case. She bottomed you out giving you some time to adjust to her girth. She whispered sweet nothings against you back until you gave her the go to go further.

Her pace started out slow not wanting to make you uncomfortable as the wet sound of skin clapping against each other filled the room mixed with both your groans and moans. Natasha pace was steady as the moans you released got louder and louder. Natashas hands gripped the flesh of you ass kneeling it before she got an idea. She spread your cheeks giving her the perfect look at your muscle ring. She spit on it only making you consciously of her actions. “Natty what are yo-” you got interrupted by your own scream as Natashas finger pushed past the ring the spit and your cum making a perfect lube. You clammed down hard in Natashas shaft as you were unexpectedly an anal whore. Your moans turned into screams the mixture of both penetrations making you climax in recored time. “Fuck you dirty slut you can deem yourself lucky I haven’t made you my breeding bitch yet” she mumbled pulling out of both holes before roughly throwing you to your back again. After a few more pumps with her large hands she came all of your stomach before laying down next to you.

She didn’t need long to recover from her high as she pushed some sweaty strands of hair behind your ear smiling like she didn’t just turn you into her whore. “Are you still lonely” you shook your head being too tired to even speak. She finally kissed your lips before picking you up bridal style and caring you into your shared bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up in a nice and warm bath shall we baby” she was just the woman for you.

:)

[holylulusworld]

In time

Summary: He wants you to take another day off.

Pairing: Mafia!Steve Rogers x Librarian!Reader

Warnings: short reader, mafia au, size kink (Steve), fluff, implied/hinted future smut (oral fem rec)

Catch up here: Overdue

“Young lady, you won’t leave this room,” his stern voice booms through the room. You bet everyone in the house can hear him. “I’m warning you. Not a step closer to the door or I’ll have to punish you.”

You huff. “We have talked about this,” you stand your ground. “You cannot stop me from leaving. I must go to work.”

“No, you won’t!” He steps closer, his shadow looming over your smaller frame. He looks down at you, a smirk on his kissable lips. “It’s Friday, and you’ll take the day off.”

“They will fire me if I take another day off,” you sigh and shake your head. “You must accept that I’m an independent woman making her own money.”

He sighs too and cups your face. Steve dips his head to press a kiss to your temple.

“I know, and I love you for being a stubborn and cute librarian, doll. It’s just that I have a surprise for you, and I cannot wait until you come home from work.”

“Steve.” You’re close to giving in once again. “I can’t, you know that. My boss will fire me, I swear. Last time you made me close the library earlier, she threw a tantrum.”

“That old hag better shut her mouth,” Steve hisses. He doesn’t like the way your boss talks to you sometimes. “Let me talk to her. I bet I can convince her to let you take as many days off as you want to.”

“Steve, threatening to cut her tongue out is not the way to convince her,” you sass, knowing about Steve’s antipathy towards your boss. “Let me go to work, and I promise to be home on time.”

“Hmmm…” Steve thinks about your offer. He steps back, and you believe he’ll let you go. You are about to walk toward the walk-in wardrobe when he grabs you by the waist and easily lifts you. He throws you, once again, over his shoulder to carry you inside the bedroom.

“Steve, Stevie,” you giggle and laugh. “Steve, that’s not funny. You must let me down. Please, I can’t miss another day at work.”

“No can do, doll,” he chuckles darkly. “I have plans for today. Plans involving you and your cute ass. I cannot let you walk out of this house today.”

“Stevie!” You slap his ass. “I’m dead serious! Let me down. I mean it. Steve!”

“It’s so cute when you believe you are in charge.” He unceremoniously drops you onto the bed, laughing when you bounce off the mattress. “How about we play a game? If you win, I’ll let you go to work. If I win, you will stay at home.”

You kneel on the bed, watching Steve circle you like prey. “No cheating?”

“No cheating, doll.” He assures you. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes. Go ahead.” You can’t wait to hear what Steve came up with this time. “What kind of game are we going to play?”

He smirks, like the devil himself. Steve darts his tongue out to wet his lips.

“I thought of hiding my face between those legs. And if you cum before I tell you so, you’ll lose. If you’re good, and wait, you'll win.”

You smirk as you stare at his thick beard. Because, either way, you’ll win. “Deal, Mr. Rogers.”

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[hippiegoth97]

I Melt With You: Eddie Munson x Reader

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Description: It's Eddie's birthday, you spend the day celebrating with your friends. And when you and Eddie return to his trailer for the night, you have the perfect gift for him. One you've been wanting to give him for such a long time...

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: smut, virgin!female reader, fingering, oral sex, protected sex, light praise, fluff

Word Count: 7.4k

divider by @xxbimbobunnyxx

I Melt With You

"Are you ready for your special present, baby?" You say to Eddie as you stand behind him with your hands over his eyes. Eddie's never been a major birthday guy, but having you in his life for the past year has changed his mind on the subject.

"You know it, sweetheart." He chuckles at your words, curious as to what kind of surprise you have planned for him tonight.

You two had spent the day with your friends Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle to celebrate as a group. You all met up at Skull Rock, drinking beer and eating pizza before presenting Eddie with gifts. Steve gave him a voucher for ten movie rentals at Family Video, and Robin got him a couple new patches for his battle vest. Nancy and Jonathan went in together on a blood red guitar strap, while Argyle presented him with a homemade t-shirt in black and white tie-dye with an intricate skull design.

When it came to be your turn, you gleefully bestowed upon him a first edition of The Hobbit. His favorite book, signed by Tolkien himself and everything. It's safe to say that Eddie was over the moon about your present in particular, scooping you up into his arms to give you a heart-melting kiss after he tore the wrapping paper away from the weathered book cover. He said it was 'the most bitchin' gift in the entire world'. You felt a little bad for upstaging everyone else, but being his girlfriend implies that it's kinda your job.

You'd moved to town in the summer of '86, living with your Aunt Sylvia before moving into the dorms for freshman year at Hawkins Community College. When you first arrived, Sylvia showed you around. There's not much to do in a place like Hawkins, but you've lived in worse places with even less to do. At least there's a movie theater and some basic shops and restaurants here. The last place you lived had a gas station/country store and two churches as the only things around for miles.

Summer was pretty uneventful, you'd go out to eat or see a movie every once in a while. But most days, you'd be helping Sylvia tidy up her home at Forest Hills Trailer Park. She's not as spry as she used to be, so you took on the chores around the house that she can't bend down to do anymore. You didn't mind at all, the work kept you busy. Something you noticed though, or more like someone, was a handsome young man who lived a couple trailers down from you. His name was Eddie, and you two talked sometimes in passing as you took the trash to the dumpster or either of you saw the other smoking on their front steps.

He said he lived with his uncle Wayne, and you told him about your aunt. Apparently they know each other, she used to bake cookies for Eddie and help him with his homework when his uncle was out. You found out many other things about Eddie over those three months. He liked metal music, had a band, and was a total nerd. He was cute, and charming, you really liked him. He seemed to like you too, but neither of you made a real move in any forward direction. You're quite shy, and Eddie appeared to share your delicate nature, despite how dramatic or obnoxious he could be.

Regardless, the two of you liked being around each other in your small ways. It was comfortable, noncommittal. You were both busy with your own lives, too focused to become entangled with one another. Or anyone else, for that matter. And when fall rolled around, you barely even said goodbye as you hauled your stuff to your assigned dorm room. You figured you'd see Eddie again in town at some point, so it didn't feel necessary to participate in a formal parting.

You wouldn't see your kinda-sorta-friend again until your first ever college party. It was being held by one of your classmates, you don't quite remember who. But your roommate, Robin, insisted you go along with her. You begrudgingly agreed, going against every natural instinct to avoid crowds that resided within you. The party itself wasn't huge, but it was certainly not what you had in mind for that evening. Robin went off with people you didn't know at the time, Nancy and Steve, leaving you to fend for yourself.

You had scanned the crowd, trying to find a singular familiar face. But nope, you were completely on your own. You found this fact to be quite overwhelming, so you stepped outside to get some air and have a smoke. And lo and behold, you found the one and only Eddie Munson all by his lonesome. It was like he was waiting for you, and you were overjoyed to see him.

"Hey, long time no see, Y/N." Eddie speaks first, looking you up and down. He really likes how you look tonight, a simple cocktail dress and strappy heels. Perfectly applied makeup painted on your face, and your luscious hair styled into an updo. He's only seen you in ripped jeans, dirty t-shirts, and rubber gloves before. He likes how you look no matter what, but this getup is certainly enticing to him.

"Hey, Eddie. What brings you here tonight? I never considered you a party person." You ask, reaching into your purse for a cigarette. You locate the pack, pulling one out and dropping the box back inside. You stick the end between your lips, digging around for your lighter. You're just about to give up looking when you hear a flick in front of you. You look up to find Eddie lighting the tip of your smoke, and you inhale deeply to jumpstart the burn. "Thanks." You say meekly, unable to hide your blushing in the moonlight. He's standing quite close to you, gazing deep into your eyes as he mindlessly returns the lighter to his pocket.

"No problem, angel. And no, I'm not into this scene at all. But it's good for business." He smiles kindly at you, hoping to put you at ease. He hides it well, but underneath the facade, his stomach is fluttering with butterflies and his heart hammers in his chest. He wasn't sure he'd see you again, at least not for more than a passing glance. But here you are, exactly where he wants you to be.

"I figured as much. I'm not really into it either. My roommate Robin dragged me here." You giggle at this admission, which makes Eddie laugh too. He gestures for you to join him to sit on the backdoor stoop. You do, slanting your legs together to sit properly in your dress. It's far from comfortable, but you don't want to flash him or something.

"Buckley, huh? She leave you all alone?" You nod, and he tuts. "That's kinda rude. Although I will say, I'm glad I get to see you again." He leans over to nudge your shoulder with his own, the leather of his jacket rubbing against your bare skin. This simple touch sets your insides ablaze, and the air between you is changing.

"I'm glad to see you too, Eds." You reply, trying to keep yourself together. You take another drag, blowing the smoke out in a large cloud as the nicotine works its way through your system. You flick the ash, the two of you simmering in silence as your faces stare out into the cool fall night. Eventually, the cigs burn away to nothing, the spent butts discarded into a nearby bush.

"Y/N?" Eddie asks, breaking the silence. You turn your head to look at him, meeting his large brown eyes. Your mouths are dangerously close to each other, and he keeps staring at your lips.

"Yes, Eddie?" You say softly, eager to hear what he has to say. You really hope it's the same as what you've been tempted to say since the second you found him out here.

He clears his throat, clearly nervous about asking you this. "W-would you...maybe...wanna go out sometime?" Eddie stumbles over his words in the most adorable way. Even though you've always wanted him to ask, you still gasp as you can't believe it's actually happening.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to ask that." You say, dumbfounded. He's about to confirm if that means 'yes', when you impulsively grab the lapels of his jackets to pull his mouth to yours. He grunts in surprise at first, before softening against you. You both melt into the kiss, and Eddie smoothly maneuvers you to straddle his lap. Your bare knees sit on the brick of the steps, but you don't care about them getting scraped at the moment. He bites your bottom lip, making you gasp. He slips his tongue into your mouth, quickly dominating yours. You instinctively grind your hips against him, already feeling an erection forming in his pants.

"You look so beautiful tonight, Y/N." Eddie says breathlessly as you break away for a moment. His hands have migrated to your waist, gripping you with the perfect balance between firm and gentle. His touch makes you feel safe, secure.

"Thank you, you're very handsome too." You repay the compliment, even though he almost always wears the same clothes. He looks sexy as all hell in them, that's for sure. You stare at one another for a moment, still rubbing yourself against him. Stifled moans leave your lips, and Eddie loves every little sound you make. He decides to take things a step further, leaning forward to kiss your neck. "Eddie." You whimper, savoring the sensation of his teeth and tongue leaving purple marks all over your throat. Your hands slip into his thick hair, tugging on it just enough to make him groan.

He attempts to make another bold move, slowly sliding one of his hands to slip under your dress. He's just about to touch your slick folds through your panties, when you grab his wrist. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" He asks, worried he's overstepped and ruined everything. He looks at you with a concerned expression.

Your face has hardened like stone, and you feel frozen in place. "I just- I haven't...gone all the way before." You speak sheepishly, blushing in embarrassment. He probably thinks you're not worth his time now. Your stomach turns as he doesn't respond at first, tempting your flight response to kick in any second now.

Eddie caresses your cheek, giving you another light kiss. "It's alright, baby. We don't have to do anything you're not ready for. 'Kay?" Your heart soars at his understanding, and you capture him in a passionate hug. "How 'bout we go inside, hm? We can hang out for a bit, just talk and plan our date. If you still want to, anyway." He rubs his neck awkwardly, wondering if you even want to keep being around him at all.

"Of course I do! C'mon, let's go get a drink." You reassure him that you have no intention of blowing him off, standing up and extending your hand to help him off the ground. He smirks, letting you assist him. He wraps an arm around your waist, leading the two of you into the house.

To this day, you and Eddie still haven't fully 'consummated' your relationship. It's not that you haven't wanted to, far from it. But you've wanted to wait until you're ready, and he's been every flavor of patient with you. You two go on cute dates, and cuddle in your dorm or at his trailer. You attend his band practice and performances, and occasionally play D&D too. You also frequently engage in hot-and-heavy make-out sessions, and even let Eddie touch your tits from time to time. You've never gone any further than that though, until tonight. You finally know that Eddie is the one you want to give your virginity to. You love him more than anything in the world, and you want to give every little part of yourself to him. "Happy Birthday, Eds." You say excitedly, removing your hands so Eddie can see what you've done to his room.

He opens his eyes, finding every surface lit up by multiple candles. There's rose petals on the bed, and a small box wrapped in dark blue paper sitting on the pillows. "Damn, Y/N! You really went all out, huh?" Eddie exclaims, unable to believe how lucky he is to have you.

"There's more, baby. Open your present." You say seductively, nudging him forward with your palms. He chuckles darkly at your tone, doing as you ask. While he's occupied with the box, you quickly remove your clothes to uncover a very special lingerie set you bought just for this occasion. You pose seductively against the dresser, you can't wait to see his reaction.

Eddie tears the paper away on the little gift, revealing a brand new box of condoms. His eyes widen a moment, looking to you to see if you're trying to say what he thinks you are. His jaw practically falls to the floor when his eyes meet your body. You're dressed in nothing but a dark red bra and thong. The material is lacey, and almost completely sheer against your skin. "Jesus christ." He whimpers, unable to trust his eyes at the moment. He's been dreaming, fantasizing about you finally giving yourself to him. Is this really happening?

"Did you figure out what your special surprise is yet?" You ask mischievously, biting your lip. You suddenly feel very exposed under his gaze, you've never been so scantily clad around him before. Even your bathing suit is a one-piece, although Eddie adores you in it anyways. He nods wordlessly, walking over to you to get a closer look.

"Can you turn around for me, princess?" He asks, his mouth sitting agape. You slowly rotate all the way around, letting him drink in your entire form. He groans at the sight of your practically bare ass, unable to resist reaching a hand forward to grip one of the supple cheeks. "Is this okay?" He inquires while stepping even closer behind you. You moan in response, pressing yourself further into his grasp. He kneads the firm flesh, drawing more little noises from your lips. You want him to take you right now, the anticipation is already extremely intoxicating. "Does that feel good, sweetheart?" He speaks lowly in your ear, sending a chill up your spine.

"Yes, fuck." You rub yourself against him, his cock hardening in his jeans.

"You wanna lay down for me, baby?" He asks, intending to take his sweet time with you. You oblige his request, resting your head on the pillows while he stands at the side of the bed. "God, you're gorgeous." Eddie looks down at you in endless admiration. He removes his own clothes layer by layer, and you watch hungrily as he reveals his body to you. His jackets and shirt come off first, exposing his tattooed chest and arms. He slips off his shoes, and unbuckles his belt to take off his jeans. Your breath catches in your throat as he's only in his boxers now, his dick forming a tent in the thin fabric. He notices you licking your lips as you stare. "Like what you see, angel?" He asks teasingly, laying down next to you on his side.

"Yes, you're so handsome, Eddie." You say softly, reaching a hand up to caress his slightly toned chest. You've seen it many times before, but it's different now that he's practically naked. He carefully leans over you, pressing his lips to yours tenderly. You melt beneath him, moaning when his hand cups one of your breasts. Eddie slips his tongue in your mouth, effortlessly dominating you. You pull him a little closer by the shoulders, wanting to feel his weight and warmth on you. He shifts to put himself directly over you now, his knees on either side of your own.

"Can I take this off, sweetheart?" Eddie asks, tugging at your bra strap. He has every intention of making sure you're comfortable with what he's doing. And regardless of how horny he is, he'll stop altogether if that's what you tell him to do. He loves you so much, and he never wants to hurt you or make you uncomfortable.

"Go ahead, love." You say as confidently as you can. You'd be lying if you said you aren't nervous about this, your anxiety has wormed its way to the forefront of your mind. But you know Eddie will never force you to do anything, you're perfectly safe here with him. You breathe deeply, trying to relax.

"You doin' okay?" He asks, noticing your body trembling slightly. He thought you might be cold at first, given your lack of clothing. But he knows you better than that.

"Y-yeah. I'm just a little nervous, that's all." You stutter. You see he's about to climb off of you, and shut this whole thing down. "But I want this, I want you." You insist, holding his arm to keep him in place.

"Okay, angel. I'll go real slow, alright? And if you're not having a good time, just tell me and we'll stop. I promise." He strokes your arm as he speaks, his eyes never leaving yours. He's deadly serious, and you love him even more for it.

"Okay." You smile sincerely at him, sitting up to unclasp your bra. You slip the straps off your arms, and you lay back down with the cups still covering you. "I imagine you can take it from here." You giggle, wanting him to expose your tits himself. It is his birthday after all. He grins back, pinching the bra between his finger and thumb before snatching it away. It's tossed to the side, and Eddie takes a moment to fully appreciate your naked torso. Your breasts are perfect swells of velvety flesh, your nipples hardened with arousal.

"You have gotta be the most beautiful woman in the entire world." He says as his pupils dilate with lust. You can't help blushing at his praise, itching for him to finally touch you. He lowers his body, resting on his elbows. His large hands grab at your tits roughly, his thumbs rolling over the pebbled mounds at the centers of them.

"Oh, Eddie." You sigh blissfully, a familiar pressure building between your legs. You've never fully relieved it before, and you're really looking forward to finding out what it's like. Eddie brings his lips to your chest, leaving wet kisses on every inch of flesh he can reach. Every touch sets your insides on fire, the temperature of the room rapidly rising. Your hands tangle into his curly locks, tugging gently to draw some low groans from him. His sounds hum against you, heightening every sensation. He swirls his tongue around one of your nipples, before taking it into his mouth. "Fuck." You moan, your back arching off the bed. Eddie slips his arm beneath you, wanting to hold you up closer to him.

He continues nibbling on your sensitive bud, eventually moving on to give the other one equal attention. You're putty in his hands at this point, making the sweetest little noises. "Are you feeling more relaxed, Y/N?" Eddie asks, lifting his head slightly to check in on you. You meet his kind eyes, your heart fluttering at how sweet he's being with you.

"Yes, Eddie. You're making me feel so good, love." You coo at him, stroking his hair. "You wanna take my thong off now?" You tease, biting your lip. You're certainly more loosened up, and you really want him to go further.

"Don't have to tell me twice, baby." He speaks softly, putting you back down on the sheets gingerly. His hand goes to the strap of the thong at your hip, looping two fingers between it and your supple flesh. He hesitates, gauging your reaction to what he's about to do. Your heart races in anticipation, and you're mentally begging him to expose the most intimate part of you. "You ready, Y/N?"

"Yes." You say simply, placing your hand over his to assist him in pulling the thin material away from your hips. He finishes the job when you can no longer reach, flinging the garment across the room. Eddie makes a note to keep it as a souvenir later, saving it in a box dedicated to your relationship.

You're completely bare to him now, his eyes scanning over you intently. Eddie carefully spreads your legs apart, his large hands holding your thighs. You can't help the tremor that rolls over you, which makes him stop in his tracks. "You okay?" He questions, and you insist that you're fine. That you want this more than anything. With that, he brings one hand to your core, slowly rubbing two fingers along your dripping pussy. You moan at the contact, you've never felt anything like this before. "You're so wet for me, sweetheart." He says, as if he's surprised.

"Is that a good thing?" You don't mean to be so ignorant about sex, you feel silly even asking. But you have nothing to go on, except what you've seen in movies. Though those don't provide much actual information at all. You worry that Eddie will laugh at you for being uneducated, the nerves coming out to play again.

"Yes, it means you're enjoying yourself, angel." He says, not a hint of judgment in his voice. This puts you at ease, and he continues to drag his digits along your hole to your sensitive bud. You at least know what a clitoris is, thankfully sex-ed back in school taught you that one. It feels so good when he touches you, you can't help letting out little moans at the sensation. Your hips buck upwards when he brushes your clit, pleasure jolting through your body. "Can I put my fingers inside you, love?" He asks so sweetly, wanting to loosen you up along with making you come undone.

"Yes, please." You can't help the neediness in your voice, practically aching for him to be inside you any way he can. He brings his middle finger to your entrance, using his free hand to caress your waist to keep you relaxed. His eyes meet yours again, and he pushes into you nice and slow. You wince at the feeling at first, gripping Eddie's arm firmly. You try your best to stay calm, knowing the slight sting will turn into pleasure after a while.

"I know, princess. Just let yourself mellow out. It'll get better, I promise." He assures you once he's in you as far as he can go. You just nod, whimpering quietly. He stays still for a minute, letting your walls get used to the stretch. He tests the waters, curling his finger slightly. It strokes your g spot, pulling another moan from your lips. "There ya go." He smirks, satisfied with himself. He pumps slowly in and out of you, curving the joints just so.

"Fuck, Eddie. It feels amazing. Can you put in another one? And go a little faster?" You plead, letting your eyes flutter closed as you feel something beginning to brew in your belly. He does as you ask, making you gasp. Your cunt welcomes the fullness, and you can hear your juices squelching from the friction. Eddie watches as his fingers work you up, memorizing your fucked-out expression. He would love to gaze into your eyes as he drives you mad, but he lets you be so you can focus on enjoying yourself.

"I love the pretty noises you're making, Y/N. Tell me how it feels, let me know I'm doing a good job." Eddie's tone pushes you further, amplifying every little thing he's doing to you. You can feel yourself getting closer, your first orgasm quickly approaching.

"It feels unbelievable, Eds. Keep going, I want you to make me cum." You whimper, bringing your hand around the back of his head. You pull him down to you, hungrily kissing his lips. He increases his pace within you, and you moan down his throat. You can tell you're just about to lose it, helpless noises trapped inside your connected mouths. His tongue tangles with yours, and he massages one of your tits to overwhelm you with pleasure. Your body feels like it's on fire, a sheen of sweat spreading over your skin. You're so very close, you can feel it. You have no idea what to expect, you just know that the buildup is going to explode any second now.

Eddie breaks away from your kiss, wanting to watch you lose control. "C'mon, baby. Let it all go." He says lowly in your ear, brushing his thumb against your clit to send you flying over the edge.

"Oh god, I think I'm gonna-" You're cut off by an enormous tidal wave of bliss crashing into you. Your breath catches in your throat, before releasing in an obscenely loud moan. Your legs begin to shake, and you feel your insides clench against Eddie's fingers. Stars fill your vision, and you finally understand what all the fuss is about. This has to be the best thing you've ever experienced in your life, there's nothing else like it on earth.

"Atta girl." Eddie praises, carefully removing his fingers from your pussy. Your hips stutter at the loss of him, your walls snapping at nothing. He lays on his side next to you, letting you come down from your high at your own pace. He presses a light kiss to your cheek, though you hardly notice as you're still reeling through the aftershocks. He watches your chest rise and fall, admiring how picturesque you look with your legs still spread apart and the sweat on your skin glistening in the candlelight.

When your breathing and heartbeat slow down a bit, you roll over to face your man. You gaze at him meaningfully, the flickering glow of the burning wicks illuminating his deep brown eyes in a most romantic way. "That was amazing, Eddie. Thank you." You capture his lips in a kiss of gratitude, showing him how thankful you are to have him in your life. Eddie's hand cradles the back of your head, and you scoot closer to press your body against his own. You snake your hand down his front, grazing his skin with the tips of your fingers. He sighs at your touch, hoping you'll keep going until you reach his needy cock. You meet his waistband, stopping your movements for a moment.

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Eddie whispers in a brief break from your intense kiss. You accept his invitation, slipping your hand beneath the elastic. You feel his mound of hair, going lower until you make contact with the firm flesh of his length. You gasp in surprise, it's much different than what you were expecting. That's not a bad thing, you're just not used to it. "Take your time, love. It's okay." He encourages you to keep going, and you reach for him once more. You gingerly feel around on his dick, noting how silky soft it is with a stiff center. Eddie groans at the teasing contact, he's already so wound up from giving you your first orgasm.

"Can you take these off, Eds? I wanna see you." You feel a bit stupid again, you sound like a child with all your questions. Eddie doesn't seem to mind though, and thank fuck for that.

"Of course, baby." He slips his boxers down his legs, his cock slapping against his stomach when it's set free. He kicks the underwear away, returning to his previous position. You take a minute to just look at it, noting the curve of the shaft and shape of the head. There's a small amount of sticky fluid leaking from the slit at the tip of it, giving you a sudden urge to lick it off. You imagine that fluid, and how hard he is, indicates that you have had a certain effect on him. He wants you, and this is as clear a sign of his desire as you could possibly get. "What do you think, angel?" He asks, smirking at the flare on your cheeks as you've been staring at him for a good while.

"It's beautiful, love." You say breathlessly, eyes flicking to his briefly. He chuckles at your compliment, that's definitely a new one. "Can I?" Your hand raises, waiting for permission to fully touch him.

"Knock yourself out, baby." He replies, taking your wrist to lead your palm to brush over his shaft. "Fuck." He groans, and the sound is music to your ears. You grip him cautiously, and he pulls your wrist to show you how to stroke him. You follow his silent instruction, dragging your hollow fist up and down languidly. "Just like that, Y/N. Fuckin' perfect." Eddie whimpers, he's been waiting so long to feel you on his dick. Your hand, or tongue, or pussy. Anything he can get, he wants.

You love the little noises escaping his lips, observing how his face scrunches and twists as you please him. It's making you very wet again, you can sense your arousal dripping between your legs as you become more revved up. "Lay down, babe." You want to try something, hoping it'll make him happy. He looks at you oddly, wondering what you're up to. But he does as you ask, his back meeting the mattress. You sit up on your knees, positioning yourself perpendicular to his crotch. You give him a loving glance, still pulling whines and moans from his chest. You bend over, so your mouth is directly over his swollen head. You curiously poke your tongue downwards, licking a small stripe over the bead of precum to taste him.

"Fuck, Y/N." Eddie groans, one hand balling the sheets below while the other rests beneath his head. The fluid is salty, but far from unpleasant. Interesting. It's strangely like you're conducting an experiment, testing which things you do with your mouth will please your boyfriend the best. You swirl your tongue around his tip, plant wet kisses that provide small amounts of suction, drag the flat of your tongue along his thick shaft. Everything you do to him is driving him mad. You know it'll take more than one try to be good at giving him head, but your teasing trials seem to be doing just fine in the meantime. "Feels so good, princess." Eddie praises you again, you can't get enough of that.

"You make lots of pretty noises too, Eds. It's very sexy." You decide to make a bold move, challenging yourself further. You bring your lips to his tip, opening nice and wide to slide down as far as you can onto him. You surprisingly manage to take his entire length in without choking.

"Oh my god." Eddie didn't expect you to try to fit all of him into your mouth, but the fact that you appear to have no gag reflex is another gift all its own. You're so hot and wet around him, he's not sure how much longer he'll last. It's been so long since he's had anything other than his hand pleasing his dick, and your toying around from earlier was fucking phenomenal. He tilts his head forward to look down at you, almost cumming right here and now from the sight of you crouching over with his cock shoved down your throat. "You really are amazing, you know that?" He says, in total awe of you.

"Mmhmm." You hum teasingly, making his hips buck upwards at the vibrations. You can't help smiling around him at his reaction, the power you hold in this moment is intoxicating.

"Jesus, Y/N. You're gonna be the death of me." Eddie chuckles in disbelief, wondering if he's dreaming again. You dissuade him of this thought, sliding your mouth up to his head, before bringing it back down again. "Shit." His grip on the bedding tightens, his toes resisting the urge to curl. You repeat the motion, wanting to make him cum for you. You're guessing it won't take long, especially given your newly discovered skillset. "That feels amazing, baby. Keep going if you can, and maybe a little faster?" He asks nicely, appreciating every little thing you're doing for him.

"Mmm." You hum in agreement, another moan escaping his lips. It takes everything in him not to put his hand on your head to hold you down and fuck your face. But he knows you're not ready for that, not yet, at least. You increase your speed, bobbing up and down while keeping your teeth away from his tender flesh. It's a little bit of a challenge, as he fills your hole significantly. Your jaw is gradually growing tired, but you're committed to this. You want to make your love feel just as good as he made you feel earlier. You try swirling your tongue around him as you move, and it looks like you've made the right choice by the way his noises become more and more desperate.

"You're doing so well, sweetheart. Especially for your first time. I'm almost there-fuck, your mouth is too damn good." He's so hot, he swears he's melting into the bed. Just a little more, and he'll finally get some relief. You try to go even faster, letting his tip ram into the back of your throat. You can see his stomach tensing, and his balls flexing slightly. He's gonna lose it, and it's all because of you. "I'm gonna cum, baby. Try to swallow it all if you can." He groans almost as loudly as you did with your own orgasm, his hips stuttering. His load spills down your throat, and you just barely get a taste of it. You really enjoy it, hoping there will be many more times you get to have the flavor of him on your tongue.

You release his cock with a pop once he softens. You look at the fuckstruck expression on his face. His eyes are hooded with lust, staring at the ceiling to ground himself. His chest rises and falls roughly, panting sighs forced from his lungs. You crawl up to his head, caressing his shiny cheek. His gaze flicks to you, a satisfied smile crawling across his mouth. "I take it I did a good job?" You ask shyly, your cheeks heating up again.

"More than good! That was fuckin' fantastic!" He says enthusiastically, which makes you giggle. "Seriously though, did you practice on a carrot or something?" He asks, mostly joking. But the widening of your eyes blows the humor away. "No way!"

"Maybe a little, although it was actually a zucchini." You admit, drawing raucous laughs from both of you. "I wanted to impress you." You snuggle up to him, bringing your head level to his. Your knee lays over his thigh, and you drag your nails up and down his chest. You look at Eddie from under your lashes, giving him your best attempt at 'fuck me' eyes. His arm goes around your waist to pull you nearer to him.

Your shared energy escalates, the closeness of your bodies electrifying the air in the room. Eddie's breath fans hotly against your skin before he speaks lowly to you. "Well, you certainly succeeded, Y/N." He cups your cheek, gently brushing his thumb across it. You nuzzle against him out of habit to deepen his touch. "I love you more than anything in the world, sweetheart." He whispers, not wanting to disturb the peaceful quiet.

"I love you too, darling." You reply just as softly. He brings his face closer to yours at an agonizing rate, it seems to take forever for his plush lips to touch yours. The second they do, however, you both give in to the feverish intensity that's been broiling inside you. Eddie bites your lip harshly, and you moan to allow his tongue access. He quickly dominates you, moving his hand to grip your thigh. He pulls your leg further over him, his fingers digging into your flesh. His mouth moves to your neck, licking and sucking to mark you up like a wild animal. "Fuck, Eddie." You whimper, savoring the pinch of his teeth.

"I'm gettin' to that, baby." He smirks, rolling the two of you over so he's on top. His dick is hardening again, pressing into your inner thigh. He's kissing all over your chest, and tenting your knees apart so he can rub his erection on your soaked pussy.

"Shit, I want you so bad." You whimper at his tip meeting your clit. You're clawing at his back, sure to leave dark red scratches all over him. He groans against your tits, nipping them over and over while his cock spreads your wetness around.

"I want you too, princess. Just let me work you up a little more, I promise it'll make things so much better." His tone is so comforting, yet darkly seductive. You have no choice but to heed his words, letting him drive you wild before the main event.

"Alright, just please don't stop touching me." You whine, grinding your hips upwards to get more friction on your needy cunt.

"Wouldn't dream of it, angel." Eddie says through a moan at your bold move. You both roll your hips against each other, making the most deliciously vulgar noises. He lowers a hand to put two fingers inside you again, curling them in that flawless way only he knows how.

"Oh, god." You can't believe this is happening. He's worshiping your breasts, teasing your bundle of nerves, and fingering you? If heaven is a real place, it's right here, in this moment. There's nowhere you'd rather be than writhing beneath your man. You can feel that familiar pressure building up within your belly once more. Eddie reaches over to the nightstand for the box of condoms, clumsily opening it with one hand to retrieve one.

When he tears one away from the long strip within the package, he opens the little foil square while still riling you up. You watch as he rolls the latex down his length, tossing the wrapper on the floor. He looks at you a moment, gripping his dick to bring the head to wait outside your taught entrance. He plants a gentle kiss on your lips. "You ready, love?" Eddie asks, breathing heavily in anticipation. He's waited so long for this moment, to share his body with you.

"Yes, Eds. More than you know." You encourage him to press on, finally put himself inside you. He nods at your confirmation, gripping your thighs in his large hands. He slowly pushes his dick in, stretching your pussy more than you expect. You wince at the feeling, your fingers holding his shoulders tighter than before. Your eyes squeeze shut, this is harder than you were anticipating.

"I'm goin' nice and slow, baby. Just relax." You force your eyes open, gazing up at his comforting face. You nod, taking a deep breath.

"Kiss me?" You ask, thinking his tongue in your mouth will distract you. You plead with your eyes, hoping he understands.

"Of course, sweetheart." He brings his lips to yours without hesitation, continuing to push into you. You gasp against him when he brushes your g spot, waiting for him to bottom out. Inch by inch, he stretches your walls until his tip hits your cervix. "Fuck, you're so tight, baby." Eddie groans, stilling his movements to let you loosen up. 

You two lay here for a while, giving each other little butterfly kisses and giggling like teenagers. You're in no rush, wanting to savor every moment. You're so deeply, helplessly in love, and this night is the ultimate expression of your affections. You're feeling so serene, blissful even. And you think you're prepared for Eddie to start moving. "I think I'm ready, darling. You wanna make love to me now?" You chuckle when you realize how old-fashioned that phrase sounds, 'making love'. You've always found it kinda cheesy, but 'fucking' doesn't quite have the same ring to it.

"You got it, princess." Eddie grins, slowly pulling out before slipping back in. Low moans spill out of your mouths, the initial discomfort quickly transforming into pleasure. His left hand holds your hip for leverage, while the other pins your own to the mattress. His fingers intertwine with yours, bringing you even closer together.

He begins to thrust in and out of you at a gentle pace, he doesn't want to hurt you. The sensation is really good, but you're craving more. "Eddie, please go faster. I swear I'm not gonna break." You insist, rolling your pelvis upwards to encourage him. He does as you ask, snapping his hips once to give you a taste. "Fuck!" You cry out, his cock hits your special spot perfectly. "Keep going, just like that." You beg. You wrap your legs around him to pull him deeper into you.

"You're so needy, baby. I love it." Eddie repeats the rough action, stealing your breath away. Before you have time to respond, he ruts himself against you in that same animalistic way over and over. He's not sure how much longer he can last though, you've been hugging his cock so damn tight it's insane.

As for you, you're not too far behind. Everything Eddie does feels so good. He's pounding you relentlessly into the bed, your orgasm ramping up with every stroke. Moans and curses harmonize with the slapping of skin, the room shaking from the headboard smacking against the wall. You're positively drenched in sweat, holding onto each other for dear life. "I'm getting close again, Eds. You're so fucking amazing."

"I'm right there with you, love." Eddie pants, his stomach threatening to tense to signal his end. He's determined to drag you down alongside him, enlisting his mouth to bite and lick your tits and throat with reckless abandon. His hand releases yours, snaking down to your clit to rub it in strong circles. You're overpowered by sensation, euphoric waves washing through you. Your walls are fluttering around Eddie's length, he can feel you about to lose it. He stops marking your flesh for a moment to share a loving look with you. "Cum for me, sweetheart."

Eddie's simple command, and the expression of pure admiration on his face sends you tumbling into oblivion. "Fuck, Eddie!" You cry out, your hands clawing at the sheets and pillow beneath your head. Your back arches upwards, your tits rubbing against Eddie's slick chest. Your thighs quake, and your insides squeeze around his cock as your orgasm runs its course.

"Goddammit." Eddie murmurs, the feeling of you cumming around him is too fucking good. He thrusts into you sloppily, extending your pleasure. He loves the way your beautiful face looks right now, so much so that his load spills from his cock to fill the condom. He presses a desperate kiss to your lips, and you reach up to hold him to you in response. He's still pumping in and out of you, riding out your shared highs. You exchange muted moans, slowly simmering down as your hearts stop racing. Happy tears spring from your eyes unexpectedly, and Eddie breaks away to check on you. "What's wrong, baby? Was it too much?" He's gone still within you now, becoming soft and overstimulated. He caresses your cheek, wiping the tracks away. You sniffle, shaking your head.

"Nothings wrong, Eddie. I just love you so much. Happy birthday." You look up at him, smiling brighter than the sun. This night has been everything you'd dreamed of, and sharing it with Eddie makes it so much more meaningful.

"I love you too, Y/N. Tonight has been the best night of my life. And being with you has made it so special." A couple tears of his own drip down onto your face, and he kisses you tenderly to accentuate the sentiment. You two are so perfect together, and you want nothing more than to keep it this way forever.

The end.

[juniperskye]

I Can’t Be Your Friend.

Sneak Peek: Eddie and you do something that alters the state of your friendship. You realize that being his friend hurts too much now. **The events of season 4 did NOT happen** Bold are Eddie’s thoughts; Italics are reader’s thoughts.

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Angst/Fluff/implied Smut

Word count: 2473

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, implied smut, drug use (marijuana), explicit language, idiots in love, Steve’s absent parents, mention of underage drinking. Let me know if I missed any!

That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Tonight was going to be amazing! Steve had invited everyone over for a summer kickoff party, there would be pizza, swimming, beer, and good company. Robin and you had gotten to Steve’s early to help set things up, pizzas were on the way, and you were just waiting for everyone to show up now.

First to arrive was Nancy, she had driven over with Mike, Lucas, Max, and Dustin. They had come bounding in with arms full of chips and soda, piling them recklessly on the coffee table. The younger kids were arguing about who got the bathroom first to change.

You couldn’t help but laugh and roll your eyes as you made your way to the door, letting in the next group. You had assumed it would be Johnathan, Argyle, and the rest of the kids, but instead, Eddie was standing in the doorway.

“Hey Eds!” You smiled.

“Hey! How’s my best girl?” Eddie pulled you into his arms and lifted you slightly as he spun you around. “I’ve missed you dude.”

“I’m good Eds. I’ve missed you too!” Your heart clenched slightly as he placed you back on your feet.

Your relationship with Eddie had always been like this. You were best friends, but sometimes, things were done or said that seemed a bit more than friendly. You’d stayed more nights with Eddie this last year than you did in your own home. Robin had pestered you about the status of your relationship with him to which you’d always reply; “We’re just friends, he doesn’t see me that way”.

“So, I know the kids are here, but I brought a little something special for us. I figured we could go to the van, take a few hits then come back in.” Eddie said wagging a joint in front of you.

“Eddie!” You hissed, covering the joint. “You can’t just pull that out. But yes, give me fifteen minutes.”

Eddie tucked the joint back into his jacket pocket and watched as you made your way over to Steve, Nancy, and Robin. Robin gave you a knowing look and you brushed her off. You were all catching up for a bit, laughing at the nonsense the kids were getting up to. Eddie was the one to open the door for Jonathan, Argyle, El, and Will. As they all walked in, Eddie came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your head.

“You ready?” Eddie whispered.

You nodded and let him lead you outside to his van. Climbing in the back, you made yourself comfortable amongst the pile of blankets and pillows, all the while, Eddie lit the joint and placed it to his lips. After a few quick puffs and one long drag, Eddie passed it to you. The two of you passed the joint back and forth for a bit before it was nearly gone.

“Do you want the last hit?” Eddie asked.

“Nah it’s cool, you take it.” You leaned your head back.

“We could always share it.” Eddie said with a sly smirk.

“Okay.” You blushed.

Eddie took a long drag, holding it in as he moved towards you. He brought his lips to yours, only separated by a few millimeters. Your lips parted in a gasp, and he blew the smoke into your mouth. You inhaled sharply, allowing the smoke in. Your mind felt hazy, and you were starting to wonder if it was the weed or the lack of space between Eddie and you. Eddie met your eyes and pulled back slightly, clearing his throat.

What the hell was happening?

The two of you made your way back into the house and took turns changing into your bathing suits. You rushed outside and went to sit on the steps of the pool with Robin and Nancy. Each of whom gave you a pointed look.

Eddie made a stop in the kitchen to grab you a coke and an orange soda for himself, he then made his way outside. He sat the two cans in front of where you were sitting with the girls, the next thing you knew he was jumping into the pool, splashing the three of you, eliciting screeches from you three.

He surfaced and swam over to you, settling himself between your legs which were dangling off the step. His chest pressed against yours as he reached behind you to grab his soda. Your breath was caught in your throat.

Had he always been this beautiful?

Who were you kidding. Of course he had.

The night went on like this. The kids swimming, playing a ridiculous game of Marco-Polo, Steve grilling hamburgers and hotdogs, Eddie treating you like far more than a friend.

Now you were all crammed in Steve’s living room, some movie playing in the background. You couldn’t remember the name of it because you were far too distracted. When you had come into the living room, all the good seats had been taken, and instead of letting you sit on the floor, Eddie had pulled you into his lap and wrapped his arms around your middle.

You had been sitting like this for about half an hour before he made the suggestion.

“Do you want to go back to my place?”

This typically wouldn’t have sounded like a line, but given everything that had occurred today, you couldn’t help but feel like his words held deeper meaning.

“Okay.”

He led you into the trailer, just like any other time you’d been here, only this time there was a tension hanging over you.

More like sexual tension.

Jesus, get a hold of yourself.

Entering Eddie’s room brought forth a wave of anticipation, you couldn’t help but feel like something was about to happen. Eddie walked over to you and handed you one of his Iron Maiden shirts and a pair of his boxers.

It’s now or never.

You locked your eyes on Eddie’s as you slowly removed your tank top and shorts, leaving you clad in only your bathing suit. Eddie took a sharp breath and pulled his shirt over his head. Up until now things felt as though they’d been moving in slow motion, then all of a sudden things switched to fast forward.

Eddie lunged towards you and locked his lips onto your own, your hands finding his curls, his finding the ties to your swimsuit. His lips tasted like orange soda and nicotine, he was addicting, and you knew you’d never be able to give this up.

Eddie woke up and glanced over to see your naked form curled up in his bed. He couldn’t believe it, the two of you had taken that leap, this would change everything between you.

This could change everything.

I can’t afford to lose her.

You stirred awake, noticing your lack of clothing, and taking note of the discarded clothing on the floor.

So that really did happen.

This could change everything!

“Hey.” Eddie said quietly.

“Hey.” You blushed.

You sat up holding the sheet to your chest and turning to meet Eddie’s gaze. Something was off about his expression, he seemed somber, and you were terrified to find out why.

“So, uh…” Eddie turned, breaking eye contact. “We should just forget this ever happened; you know. So, it doesn’t fuck up our friendship.”

Please say you don’t want to forget about it.

Of course he doesn’t want me.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Of course she doesn’t want me.

You stood and quickly began pulling your clothes on and gathering your things. There was this loud ringing in your ears and you’re sure Edie was calling your name, but all you knew was you needed to get out of there.

You were halfway home before the ringing stopped.

How could you be so stupid.

Then the tears started. Not only had your heart been broken by the man you loved, but you also lost the one person you’d want to hold you while you cried.

“Dude what is up with you? You’ve been super weird since Steve’s summer kick-off party.” Robin pestered.

“Yeah she’s right, plus Eddie’s been extra bitchy, which usually only happens when you haven’t seen one another in a while. I thought for sure you guys were gonna hookup that night.” Steve ranted.

Your face turned a bright shade of red and you let your gaze fall to your lap. You knew you weren’t exactly being discreet with your avoidance of Eddie, but you didn’t’ think they’d call you out directly.

“Holy shit! You two had sex!” Robin shouted, smacking you on the arm.

“Ow! Yes, we did. And it ruined everything. The next morning, he suggested we just forget it ever happened.”

“What? No way, Eddie’s head over heels for you. What happened?” Steve asked.

You explained to Steve and Robin the events of the night and they both concluded that it made no sense. They were both convinced Eddie was in love with you.

This was when Steve and Robin came up with their plan. They would get you and Eddie together before summer ended.

“Steve, this isn’t working. She is declining every invite to hangout; she has gone as far as driving over and leaving if she sees the van, and even calling everyone to be sure if Eddie was invited.” Robin said throwing herself on the couch in defeat.

“That’s it! We will invite her over for a movie night, just the three of us. Then after she’s here, you go to the other room and call Eddie and invite him over. That way nobody will be able to tell her that he’s invited because he wasn’t.” Steve explained.

“Hey guys!” You called entering Steve’s house.

“Hey! How have you been? We haven’t seen you in a while.” Robin pulled you into a hug.

“Sorry about that, I just…I can’t bring myself to face him yet. I’ll get over it, I just need time.” You said.

Steve came in, greeting you and pulling you to the living room to help him pick a movie. He threw a wink over his shoulder to Robin. She rolled her eyes and made her way to Steve’s dad’s office ready to make the call. When she came to the living room she played it off as a trip to the bathroom.

Things were going well, they felt like old times, save for the hole in your chest in the shape of one, Eddie Munson.

Speaking of which.

“Hey guys!” Eddie greeted, entering the house.

“Guys, what the hell.” You said threw gritted teeth.

They both looked at you with guilty eyes. You shook your head and told them you needed to go. Grabbing your bag you went for the door. It took everything in you to not look at him.

“Hey, where are you going?” Eddie called after you, following you outside. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. You’re dodging my calls, your canceling plans, you’re literally leaving as I showed up to hang out.”

“Eddie, I can’t do this right now. I need to go.”

“So what? That’s it?” He had never sounded so defeated.

“Eddie, I…”

“Is this because of that night? C’mon you’re my best friend, you’re just gonna throw that all away?” He grasped your hand in his own.

“That’s the problem Eddie, I can’t be your friend anymore. Everything is different now.” You shook your head, pulled your hand from his grasp, and took off walking back home.

Eddie walked back into the house and immediately receive a slap to the back of the head from Robin. She and Steve proceeded to explain to Eddie how he had messed the whole thing up and how him suggesting you just “forget it ever happened” had led you to believe that he didn’t care about you.

Initially he didn’t believe them that you had feelings for him, but after they literally spelled it out for him, he realized what an idiot he had been.

“I’m gonna need your help.”

The plan had been a pretty difficult one, Eddie needed Robin and Steve to convince you to come over again for an end of summer bash and after the last time, he was sure you’d say no.

Robin had explained to you that after your conversation with Eddie, that he definitely wouldn’t be coming. She told you that she asked him, and he had declined. It was then that you agreed, but not without a pang of guilt filling your chest. You couldn’t stand the thought of hurting Eddie. The look on his face when you told him you couldn’t be his friend had been haunting you.

The day came and you drove over to Steve’s, shocked that the only car in the driveway had been his. You parked and let yourself in.

“Steve? Where is everyone?”

“Hey! I’m in my room, and they’re on their way I figured you could come early so I could see how you were doing.” Steve said.

You walked into his room and noticed he was seemingly searching for something, he was scrambling around his room, swiftly moving to his dresser as you made yourself comfortable on his bed. You looked over at him just in time to see a mess of curls enter and Steve pulling the door closed. You heard the lock click and the distinct sound of a chair being pushed against the knob.

“What the hell is this?”

“I needed to find a way to talk to you and you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Eddie, let me out.”

“Not until we talk. Look I fucked up that night, I suggested that we forget about it and that was stupid.” He exclaimed.

“Eds, look, I just need time…these feelings will go away eventually. I don’t want to lose you as a friend, but how am I supposed to be around you when I’ve tasted your kiss and will never get to experience that again?”

“I don’t want your feelings to go away. Truth is, I only suggested it because I thought there was no way you could love me back.” Eddie explained.

“You love me?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Eddie pulled you into a gentle kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist. You let your fingers get tangled in his hair. There were whispered apologies between kisses and you two only broke apart when the two of you needed air.

“How would you like to go get some dinner?” Eddie asked.

“I would love that!” You replied.

With that, Eddie walked over to the bedroom door and began knocking, shouting to Steve that he was safe to let you guys out. His knocks sped up the longer it took for Steve to release you both.

“Harrington, hurry up! I gotta take my girlfriend on our first date!”

[usedtobecooler]

this must be the place

eddie munson x steve harrington x afab!reader | 8.6k words

summary: the summer of 1985 is only just beginning when a trip to scoops ahoy! unlocks some deeply hidden feelings you have swirling in your stomach for steve harrington. eddie munson won't let you live it down, and maybe that’s due to his own feelings too, but a chance encounter on a hot night at lovers lake sends you all down a rabbit hole you could never of prepared for.

content warnings: 18+ only minors dni, sexual content (threesome, piv sex, oral sex male receiving, dirty talk, van sex), porn with plot, eddie and reader are fwbs with feelings, gentle bullying and banter, eddie is canonically queer, mentions of past king!steve, brief homophobia mentions, a heartfelt conversation. feelings are felt on all three sides, if you don't like it look away <3 reader isn't explicitly described as alt/goth but it's implied.

Steve Harrington is staring at you. 

In his silly little sailor uniform, eyeing you up whilst you silently pick at your banana sundae. It’s strange, truly, because Steve Harrington was a certified ladykiller, and had been for as long as you’d known him. You’d seen him lay on the signature moves one too many times during previous encounters, always making the girls blush and ogle at him dreamily as he told them exactly what they wanted to hear. 

So, why was he looking at you like a classified moron? Like a little creep who had no idea how to interact with women?

He was unfairly attractive, even when he was watching you like a dumbass. Dark lashes fanning his cheeks when he blinked — freckled, tan skin and juicy, almost glossy looking lips. He was so pretty it was kind of hard to look at him. Nobody was immune to the Harrington charm, not even you, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself he didn’t have an affect on you. 

You take longer than you care to admit to before you catch yourself staring back behind hooded lids, and Steve notices, gives you a small smile. You duck your head back down, a heat spreading over your cheeks – why were you acting like a schoolgirl?!

“Don’t turn around, but—“ you barely even get the sentence out before Eddie’s whipping his head around like an idiot, facing exactly where Steve is standing, the poor guy frozen like a deer caught in the headlights, a dark flush spreading on his shocked face before he’s turning away. He hastily retreats through the barn doors to the back room, and you’re almost positive you see a cartoonish puff of air that his disappearing act leaves in his wake. 

“What the hell was that, Munson? I fucking said not to turn around,” you hiss through gritted teeth, leaning forward to smack Eddie’s bare arm with your sundae spoon. Eddie feigns a little hurt noise in the back of his throat, rubbing at the red patch of skin where you’d spanked him with the silverware. 

“Hey! No hitting,” Eddie whines, leaning forward and stealing the glazed cherry from your sundae, popping it in his mouth with a delighted grin. You go to make a noise of protest, and he’s already butting in, “Nuh-uh, I think not, brat. That’s payment for the tyranny of abuse I have to deal with.” 

You roll your eyes, digging your spoon into the melting ice cream, grimacing — you never liked the texture of ice cream once it began to heat, “Stop being such a big crybaby,” it comes out as a grumble, no menace behind it, as you pay even more unneeded attention to the dripping cream that spills from the lip of the spoon, “I swear Steve was like… staring at me.” 

Eddie snorts, swiping the glass from your side of the table. You let him, too — you didn’t want it anymore, and Eddie was a creep who liked melted ice cream, especially when all the flavours swirled together and created an almost grey-like colour, “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. You’ve got a giant zit on your forehead — I’ve been staring, too.” 

“Oh, real cute, Eddie.” You roll your eyes, but your hand comes up to your face, fingertips gently running over your smooth skin to make sure there were in fact no pimples. Eddie chortles at that, too, knowing he’d got you concerned about the possibility of there being an actual zit that Steve Harrington was indeed staring at. The thought alone was mortifying.

You watch in disgusted wonderment as he tucks into the ice cream like a man starved. He always ate like he hadn’t had a meal in months, it bordered on gross. You grimace a little when ice cream dribbles out the corner of his mouth, though you catch yourself fighting not to lean over and swipe it away like the main character in a John Hughes movie. 

“Remind me again why I suck face with you for fun?” You ponder, mostly to yourself, but Eddie’s looking at you with his stupid, big doe eyes and this goofy grin on his face, so you don’t even need him to tell you the answer. 

You know why. 

“Saw Harrington checking you out today,” Eddie says, almost conversationally, and you scoff — you’re literally riding his dick, what sort of fucking thing to say during sex is that? 

“What?” You ask, bewilderment etched on your features as you stop your rhythm, planting your ass firmly on Eddie’s thighs and he groans, the tight heat of your pussy completely enveloping his length making him shudder. 

“Shit, why’d you stop?” He whines, head landing with a small thump against your soft pillows, his big brown orbs rolling into the back of his skull. He grips onto your hips tightly, rucking up into you for emphasis, and you gasp.

“Why are you thinking about Steve Harrington when your dick is in me?” You counter, rolling your hips until your clit catches on the thatch of dark hair nestled on Eddie’s pubic bone, a shudder vibrating through your whole body from the sensation. 

“I wasn’t,” Eddie argues, but it’s half-assed. He grows impatient quickly, slides an arm around your back and flips you over in one motion — it’s pretty smooth, especially for Eddie, who was mostly gangly and not in control of his own limbs at any given time. You keen into it, a shocked little moan escaping you when he bottoms out once more, ruddy head of his cock sliding against your front wall, “Jus’ think he wants to fuck you, is all.” 

You narrow your eyes, a smirk playing on the corners of your lips, “Why do you sound jealous?” You cackle, sighing softly when Eddie ruts into you deeper, staking his claim without a single word, “You’re the one fucking me right now, not him. You worried he’s gonna steal me away? That maybe he’d be better? Bigger?” 

Eddie’s eyes narrow at that, any sweetness in his glassy eyes vanishing when you speak. You’re in for it, truly. You’ve touched a nerve, and he’s wound up. You can’t help the way your chest tightens, a heat blooming in you that’s a mix of want and pride. It was so easy to rile him up.

“You’re gonna regret that, brat,” Eddie says through gritted teeth, gripping at the underside of your thighs, bruisingly tight, hauling your knees up to your ears. The new angle makes you cry out, his cock bruising into your cervix, “There you go, sweetheart. Cry for my cock. Beg for it.”

You can’t get Steve Harrington out of your mind. It’s not that you deliberately think of him, it’s just hard not to when he’s suddenly everywhere.

You watch from your bedroom window with a furrowed brow as said Steve Harrington climbs out of his ridiculously flashy Bimmer, dressed in too-tight faded jeans, a grey shell jacket and a plain white tee underneath. He’s so fucking tan, like he’s been out bathing in the heat of Indiana’s summer all day and not working under the harsh fluorescent lights in Scoops. 

You bite at your glossy lip, wondering if there’s any tan lines there or if he’s truly that tanned all over. Wondering if his moles and beauty marks dip below the collar of his jacket, desperately wanting to trace them with your tongue and make him squirm.

Linda Curtis bounces out of her front door, adjacent to your own, permed blonde hair pulled back in a claw clip, dressed in the ugliest pink shirt you've ever seen. Linda was an ex drama club nerd, had vaguely run in the same circle as Steve used to during Senior year, once she got her braces off and Tommy considered her hot. Billy Hargrove drove her to school one goddamn time and that was it, she was hot shit everybody wanted. What Steve saw in her, you would never know, but it took all sorts. Or whatever Eddie said.

You watch curiously as the Harrington charm works it’s magic right in front of your very eyes, Steve steps in close to Linda, brushes a loose curl back out of her eyes — Jesus Christ, why was that doing something for you — and says something you can’t make out, but it’s enough to have Linda blushing and pulling nervously on the hem of her denim shorts.

Why were you jealous?

The telltale noise of an obnoxiously loud horn honking lets you — and probably the entire neighbourhood — know Eddie had arrived to pick you up, snapping you completely out of your daydream. Your lips curl up into a smirk when both Linda and Steve jump ten feet at the sound, Steve rolling his eyes and scoffing.

What a bitch.

Eddie catches you looking from your window and lets out an obnoxious laugh, grinning up at you with his annoyingly perfect teeth. You wanted to punch him, maybe, but Friday nights were for one thing and one thing only, and that was getting high at Lovers Lake in the flatbed of the van. 

So it’d have to wait until you didn’t need him for the weed or the ride.

Summer meant the pretty sunset as a backdrop whilst you smoked the day's events away — it somehow made everything that little bit more relaxing, watching the swirls of orange, pink and purple melt together as your brain fogged with the drugs, a nice settling in your tummy as your high took over. 

It was second only to the heavy September rain that you loved so much, you found yourself yearning for it all year around. The loud patter of the large droplets clinking on the tin roof of Eddie’s van, buried under a nest of blankets to keep the cool chill off your arms and legs. Eddie’s hot breath fanning over your neck as he kissed it, chest heavy against your back. Warm, solid and comforting.

Maybe you were in love with him, or maybe you weren’t. You didn’t want to think too much about that.

You glide out of the house as quietly as you can muster, not wanting to arouse suspicion about where you were going. Even in your twenties, your parents would still have a few choice words for you in regards to Eddie Munson, and you were in no mood for the lecture. You’d heard it too many times in the years you’d known him, since fifth grade when he pushed you in the playground and you pulled his hair in retaliation. 

From that moment on you were inseparable, to the dismay of your parents.

You’re aware of two other sets of eyes watching you from across the street as you bounce down the driveway, all smiles as excitement thrums through your entire body. Eddie’s maybe looking at you like you hung the fucking moon or something, but that’s probably to do with the fact you’re wearing his shirt and looking the epitome of hot.

Okay, maybe you had a complex.

“So that’s where my shirt went,” Eddie hums, giving you an appreciative once-over as you wrench the passenger door open with a horrific sounding crunch of metal, “looks better on you, I’ve gotta say.”

You clamber into the van with a huff, laughter spilling into it, “Yeah, yeah. You don’t need to woo me, Munson. We’re gonna fuck anyway, don’t worry.”

Eddie laughs loud and so fucking obnoxious, as if for somebody else’s entertainment, and it does catch the attention of the lovebirds on the other side of the road. You look over just as Steve catches your eyes, and suddenly your chest feels kind of heavy as he stares at you with a kind of intensity that you can’t put a finger on.

“Take a fuckin’ picture, Harrington,” Eddie cackles, head basically out the fucking window and he’s grinning at them both, snapping you completely out of it, “that’s as close as you’re getting to her, count your lucky stars.”

Linda turns her nose up, like she’s disgusted at the fact that Eddie even so much as looked in her direction, however Steve flusters. His cheeks flush with something akin to embarrassment, and he turns his head to hide from you both, instead busying himself with grappling for Linda’s hands once more. 

Eddie laughs almost maniacally as you take off, tyres squealing and kicking up loose stone chips in your wake, “Little Stevie didn’t know what to do with himself!”

“He looked mortified.” You agree quietly, sinking into your seat with a little grin. Something about Eddie having that effect on Steve from such a simple little sentence was almost entertaining, considering how things once were. 

Eddie and Steve weren’t friends. In fact quite the opposite. Steve and Tommy were miserable assholes for years, made Eddie’s life hell at any given turn unless they needed him for drugs. 

You think back, and truthfully the turning point was during Junior year. Steve had tripped Eddie in the hall, called him ‘queer’. Eddie didn’t stand for that, sucker punched Steve right in the jaw, hard enough that his skull hit the locker adjacent to him.

“That shit might hurt you when your daddy calls you it, but you’ve gotta do a lot worse than call me exactly what I am as an insult, Harrington.” Eddie had grinned, vicious and seething, as he watched Steve clutch desperately at his bruised jaw, wide eyed and hair askew from the force.

Steve never bothered Eddie again after that.

In fact, not long after, Steve never bothered anybody again. Maybe the knock to the head had quite literally knocked some sense into him, or something.

“You good?” Eddie’s voice, his large hand gripping your thigh knocks you back into reality, out of the daydream, and the grounding is enough to have your entire body melting into the simple touch.

“You ever think about what you’re gonna do if the band doesn’t work out?” You ask quietly, shoulders aching from where they dig into the bulky metal on the backs of Eddie’s front seats. The ringing in your ears drowns out the cricket chirps now, eyes hazy and no doubt bloodshot to hell, two joints deep and all that. 

You can feel Eddie’s gaze on the side of your face, like he’s trying to bore a hole into your skull and rummage around in your brain, those wide dark chocolate eyes staring you down with a serious amount of intensity. You wriggle slightly under it, suddenly uncomfortable — wrong question.

“Honestly, no,” Eddie answers honestly, tearing his eyes away from you in an instant, letting you breathe again momentarily. His curls curtain his profile, the bulbous tip of his nose the only feature now visible, he picks nervously at a loose thread on his jeans, “I’ll probably go work with Wayne at the plant, they’re always lookin’ for workers. Still sell on the side too, I doubt Rick will let me out of this deal, I bring in the most revenue.”

“Can come work at Sam Goody with me,” you sing-song, resting your head on his shoulder. You pretend not to notice the way he instantly melts at the press on his side, seemingly grounding him just as he’s beginning to panic about things like the future, “it’s a pretty good gig, and we get discounts on cassettes!” 

Eddie huffs out a laugh, pulling a drag from the joint that briefly laid forgotten at his side, ash falling onto the scratchy blanket you both laid on top of, burning holes into the material, “That code for ‘and we get to watch Harrington’s juicy ass in those shorts!’?” 

You cackle, all seriousness from the conversation vanishing in an instant as Eddie turns on his usual class clown persona, mocking you with his silly tone and grinning like an idiot, “Scoops is literally across the landing! I can’t see that far.” 

“I can’t believe he got to you,” Eddie’s teasing tone continues, he shuffles on his bony ass and accidentally shoulders you in the temple in the process, causing you to whine quietly, “sorry, shit, sorry, sweetheart. I guess I just — didn’t ticket you as being the type to like what he had going on.” 

“I could say the same for you,” your voice is barely a mumble as you drag your heavy head from his shoulder, looking at him properly.

Eddie hisses a sharp draw of breath in between his clenched teeth, passes you the joint that you take happily, sucking in a drag like a desperate woman. The silence sits heavy between you both for a long moment, weighs on you like a fucking shackle to your ankles, pulling you down into shark infested waters.

“He was always everything I wasn’t and I hated that shit,” Eddie mutters, fidgets — can’t look you in the fucking eye, “to begin with I was jealous and angry, he had it so fucking easy and people just fell at his feet, worshipped the asshole no matter how much of a prick he could be.”

You nod, extend your hand to pass the joint back to him — Eddie shudders when your cold fingers connect with his, and you allow them to linger for only a split second before you pull them back once again. 

“Remember when I punched him in the hall, once? Think it was junior year or something,” Eddie recalls, and you have to pretend like you’re not two halves of the same whole for just a moment, like you weren’t just reminiscing on the exact scenario hours earlier, “he called me queer. And at that point I didn’t really know what I was, but him saying it just — fucking solidified it, or something. I said something mean, but I confirmed to him and myself what I sorta knew all along.”

“I remember,” you breathe, chest tightening, “I think you hit close to home, when you said his dad called him the same thing.”

Eddie laughs, mirthless, canines sharp as he smiles so wide, yet it doesn’t reach his eyes — he looks manic, “Yeah, well. I’d heard shit, and I used it to my advantage at that moment. Was wrong, I know. He had it fuckin’ coming, but after that I realised… I didn’t hate him. I thought I was jealous of how easy he had it with chicks and how they fell for it, but then I guess I realised I maybe wanted to be his conquest of the week.” 

It tugs at your chest, and you’re caught between feeling relief and feeling utterly devastated that Eddie spent all this time pining and having to hide it from the world, when you could openly ogle and gawk at Steve without so much as a second glance from passersby. 

You’re too high to truly comprehend it, and maybe you just chose to ignore the signs, but now it makes sense as to why Eddie would bring Steve up and use him to mock you, how his eyes would be ablaze with something that wasn’t jealousy, but wanting. He wanted you to bring him up, wanted you to tell him your sordid fantasies. Maybe even wanted to be a part of them, and yeah. That makes your tummy flip.

Your head thumps against the backing of the passenger headrest, a loud breath escaping you that you didn’t even realise you were holding, “God, we really are too fucking alike, Wayne was right maybe we were separated at birth.” 

“Birds of a feather, sweetheart.” Eddie laughs, means it this time. He crowds into your space, plants firm hands on your bare thighs and leaves a chaste kiss on your chin, “Don’t worry, baby. You’ll always be my number one.” 

You had wondered if Steve’s date had gone poorly when your designated smoke break on that following Monday had been infiltrated by Robin Buckley – the poor girl sighing frustratedly, claiming she just ‘needed a breather from Harrington’s excessive whining’, to which you’d both shared a cackle. You had offered her your cigarette that she declined with a wave of her hand and a small smile, ‘trumpet player and all’ she’d grinned.

You saw Steve on Tuesday, on his lunch break as he wandered into Sam Goody to pick up an order that Dustin Henderson had put in before he went off to Summer camp for six weeks. A Wham! album from late 1984 that had you raising an eyebrow.

“Kid kinda wants to be like me,” Steve had shrugged, cocky as he rolled his eyes, leaned his arm on your counter. Flashed you the goddamn Harrington smile that momentarily had you forgetting that his taste in music was vile, “the chicks love George Michael.” 

“You’re setting the poor guy up to fail by recommending he listens to this shit,” you quipped, handing the plastic bag holding the cassette over to Steve, heat prickling up your spine when your fingers brushed over the handles, “I promise you it’s not George Michael that ‘the chicks’ are interested in.” 

“And what exactly are they interested in?” Steve asked, quirking a brow and smirking at you, giving you a once over with those wandering hazel eyes. 

The little shit was flirting.

“I think you and I both know what they’re interested in, Harrington.” You flirted back, your glossy lips smacking together, catching his eye immediately.

“Are you?” Steve breathed, focused solely on your lips, and you could almost see the second his upstairs brain shut off and his downstairs one took over for him, “Interested, I mean.”

“Oh, honey. I think you know the answer to that.” 

Eddie had appeared on Wednesday, conned you into using your staff discount for the Armed & Dangerous EP — you didn’t even like Anthrax, and Eddie didn’t have a damn record player, yet you still got it for him. 

Steve had been wandering past, hands stuffed deep in his shorts pockets as Eddie left with his bag of goodies and the most ridiculous grin on his face. So engrossed in pulling out a rolly that he slammed right into Steve’s side, sending the poor guy straight to the floor, unable to pull his hands from his pockets in time to stop himself.

You’d watched anxiously from your perch on the stool behind the counter as Eddie crouched into a squat to help Steve up, extending an arm that Steve took with a flush of colour on his cheeks and an embarrassed smile. You couldn’t see Eddie or the expression on his face, but you already knew he was saying something stupid, maybe even cracking a joke, because Steve laughed. Head thrown back and hearty enough that you could hear it faintly, their hands still clasped together even though he was already back on his feet.

Your heart fluttered, beating overtime as you watched the interaction with curious eyes, a nervous wave of butterflies in your tummy. They parted ways, and if Eddie asked, you pretended that you didn’t see him looking over his shoulder once Steve turned away, half buried behind the waves of his hair as he blushed red, his doe eyes soft and fond.

And if by some sort of confusing act of God, Steve was ever to ask you that same question, you never saw him do the exact same thing, just seconds later.

You were screwed.

Steve doesn’t arrive at the Curtis family home on Friday evening, and you can’t even pretend that you don’t let out a sigh of relief. Just as you had suspected, Robin had indeed been talking about the date during your short conversation, and Steve’s latest conquest was no more.

It’s raining lightly, thunder and lightning cracking in the distance, amplified in amongst the trees as you and Eddie pass a blunt back and forth between your bodies. You’re laid top-to-toe, his head basically hanging upside down out of the back door of the van, you in the resumed position up against the rock hard front seats. 

“There’s somebody out swimming in the lake,” Eddie says, breaking the peaceful silence with his dulcet tones, words deep and heavy from the cotton mouth. His hand halts its movements on your bare calf, “did you see another car here?”

Your eyes narrow, catching a head bobbing in and out of the water at a far distance, way too far away for you to recognise who it was, though swimmers in the lake weren’t uncommon especially during the Summer months, “No, I didn’t. Could’ve walked here, I guess.” 

Eddie’s head whips up at that, and he gets up on his elbows as if it’s going to give him a better look at you, “We’re about ten miles away from civilization, dummy. Nobody's walking out here unless they have a death wish. Maybe they parked in the trees.” 

“Why do you sound so nervous? You think Hopper or his knucklehead deputies are out here taking a dip in the lake whilst undercover trying to catch a couple of shitheads smoking a joint on a Friday night?” You cackle, and Eddie rolls his eyes, lets out an annoyed huff and plucks the joint from your relaxed fingers.

“I’m on my final strike, asshole.” Eddie grunts, sitting up properly and craning his neck to get a better look as the person swims closer and closer to you both, the ripples of water as they glide along the only giveaway, as they keep their head underwater the entire duration.

You find yourself drifting off, hazy and blissed out, the noises and visuals a cacophony of brain scratching senses. Your eyelids go heavy, drooping, and before you know it Eddie’s fingers are brushing your skin and helping along, adding to the sanctity of your mind. You doze peacefully, sighing contentedly. 

Footsteps closing in knock you out of your unconscious state, your brain alerting you to another person who certainly wasn’t Eddie approaching — panic creeps in momentarily, until the figure appears at the open door of the van, knocking the breath from your lungs in a mixture of relief and desperation.

Steve Harrington is in front of you. Dressed in nothing but a pair of shorts and a fucking cropped vest, exposing his toned stomach, his happy trail glistening as droplets of water clinging to the dark hair that disappears into the low waistband of his pants.

It’s. Sobering, to say the least. You’re suddenly conscious of how you’re sitting, legs spread wide in your own shorts, slumped down like an absolute slob. Eyes bloodshot from the weed, your shirt askew. 

Okay, cool. Steve’s going to take one look at you and decide you’re in fact a completely disgusting creature that he absolutely does not find attractive. Great, just great.

Eddie breaks the silence, his voice knocking you out of your trance so quickly you startle yourself, jumping in your seat, “Steve Harrington, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Eddie smirks, shuffling back into the bed of the van until he’s propped up against the side, kicking his legs out flat right across the bottoms of your feet. 

“Just thought I’d come say hi, thought it was your van from back there,” Steve’s nonchalant, shrugging, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet, trying and failing to not watch Eddie’s every move as his gangly limbs manoeuvre, “you got anymore?”

Drugs, he means drugs. Could probably smell them a mile off, could tell you were both high just by looking at you, remembered Eddie was a dealer and wanted his own.

You try to hide your disappointment, though your face always had a way of talking for you, and you feel your nose scrunching in distaste before you can stop it. Steve fails to notice, dumbstruck bambi eyes watching Eddie like he wants to — you don’t even know, but it’s almost like he wants to ask something else.

“You want in?” Eddie asks tentatively, seemingly asking the question for Steve like he knew exactly what he wanted to say, holding a fresh rolly up in between his thumb and forefinger like an offering, “We were just about to spark this one up, and I’m sure you could do with the… relaxation after that show you just put on.”

He’s mocking, grinning like the Cheshire cat as Steve flounders, flushes a deep shade of red across his cheeks, but climbs into the van like he’s meant to fucking be there or something, sliding down right next to Eddie close enough that their thighs are touching roughly, the rivulets of water on Steve’s leg clinging to the material of Eddie’s jeans and soaking them in the process.

Eddie’s eyes widen like saucers, like he expected Steve to tell him to fuck off, yet there he was pressed against Eddie like it was the most normal thing in the world. Steve produces a lighter from the pocket of his shorts, plucks the joint from Eddie’s hand like it’s nothing, and presses it between his cherry red, plump lips. Sparks it up and inhales deeply, eyelids fluttering shut, thick eyelashes fanning his cheeks.

Your thighs clench as you watch Steve’s adams apple bob up and down, the vast expanse of his tan neck stretching as his head thumps back, whole body slumping as the sudden nicotine hit relaxes his body. You connect the moles and freckles with your eyes, fingers itching in your lap, resisting the urge to lunge forward and mark him up, connect the beauty marks with your mouth, suck bruises into his skin until he’s whining and begging. 

The air lies heavy between you all, nobody saying a word as you pass the blunt back and forth, your high settling in once more, enough to have you light headed and itching to touch more and more and more. Ten minutes or maybe an hour go past, you’re not too sure which. 

You can tell Eddie is starting to feel the same, from the way his thigh begins jiggling up and down — usually by this point he had a lapful of you, grinding against him and gasping for release as your drug-addled brains melted with the need to touch and to kiss and to fuck.

Steve wiggles in his place next to Eddie, his large palm coming out to slap Eddie’s thigh and keep his leg still, like he’s annoyed by the constant jerking movement, yet his flushed skin and agape mouth tell you otherwise. Somebody whines, needy, and you’re not too sure which one of you it is, but the sound goes straight to your core, has your cunt fluttering. 

Eddie breaks first, pulling you into his lap unceremoniously, your arms instinctively wrapping around his pale shoulders to ground yourself as you’re flung like a ragdoll, his hands digging into the fat of your ass, fingertips pressing almost bruisingly, yet you keen into it, desperate for more.

Your bare calf touches Steve’s thigh, and he’s looking at you like a deer caught in headlights — pretty hazel eyes staring up at you in awe, watching as your body rocks against Eddie’s own, though you don’t dare settle down on his crotch properly, waiting for Steve’s confirmation that he’s good with this.

“Are you okay with this?” You ask, just to be sure, making it clear that you’re not adding two plus two and getting five, needing to know for certain this is what he wants, “Tell me what you’re thinking, Steve.” 

Eddie’s own gaze lands on Steve now, soft and gentle, no teasing on his features anymore, pure sincerity. Steve looks back and forth between you both, bites that fucking lip of his as he ponders.

“I think-” Steve starts, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth, “that I just… really wanna kiss one of you right now.” 

If Eddie’s surprised, drawn back or even nervous, he doesn’t let on, as he leans into Steve’s space with parted lips, a stupid lazy smirk tugging at the corners, enough to make your core ache for him. 

You watch with hazy eyes as they share breath back and forth, two pairs of deep set brown eyes locking and conversing without words as you heave desperately, rutting gently against Eddie’s thigh. His rings bite into the soft skin of your waist, grounding you, letting you know he’s still aware of your presence. 

Steve closes the gap first, slots their lips together and startling a desperate whine from the back of Eddie’s throat — a noise you weren’t even aware he could make. Steve’s large hand runs up along Eddie’s rosy red cheek, fingers splaying and nails raking into Eddie’s scalp as their mouths move together like ripples of water.

It’s beautiful to watch, you can’t look away (as if you even fucking wanted to), your hands bunching into the bottom hem of Eddie’s shirt to help you sway your hips back and forth. Eddie’s sharp tongue peaks out to swipe along Steve’s bottom lip, and Steve surges forward to deepen the kiss, their tongues dancing together as they pant breathily and moan quietly. 

You’re not sure when it happens, but Eddie’s rough hand on your waist begins to guide you against the starchy material of his jeans, like he’s paying just as much attention to you as he is to Steve. 

You take your opportunity, leaning forward to latch your mouth onto Eddie’s exposed collarbone, biting and suckling like a woman starved as you finally, fucking finally let yourself rock against Eddie properly – grinding against his half-hard cock until he’s whining breathily into the kiss, clinging onto your waist. 

Maybe you’re feeling ballsy because of the drugs, or maybe it’s because you’ve just waited forever to get your hands on Steve Harrington, but soon enough your hand is ghosting up his inner thigh, pressing hot and heavy against the sizable bulge in his ridiculously short shorts.

“Y’r both gonna fucking kill me,” Steve groans against Eddie’s lips, breaking the kiss momentarily only for Eddie to surge forward once more and reattach their mouths, and your pussy flutters – hearing Steve so fucked out from the simplest of touches sends a hot, prickly flush up your body, settles in your core. 

Your hand presses more firmly onto Steve’s cock, hips rutting against Eddie’s and they both roll their hips at the same fucking time, pressing into your hand and cunt respectively. Your brain short circuits, lips detaching from Eddie’s collarbone so you can moan, wet and panting against his damp skin.

“You wanna fuck her, Harrington?” Eddie asks, bites at Steve’s bottom lip and Steve keens into it, grunts and fucks his hips up into your hand again. Eddie releases his lip, trails kisses down Steve’s chin and to his jaw, rough and sucking, sure to leave a mark, “She wants you to, I know she does. Fantasises about you wrecking her, think you’re up to the task?” 

Steve nods, feverish and almost pathetic, and you have to question if he’s always like this during sex or if Eddie really just has that effect on him, has Steve reduced to nothing more than a mess as you both finally lock eyes once again, “Please, nggh, please. Wanna fuck you so bad, baby, please? Will you let me?” 

The begging does something to your insides you never would’ve expected, and you’re throwing yourself into Steve’s lap. His hands grab onto your waist, replacing Eddie’s and it’s noticeable, he’s gentle, almost unsure of how to take you – he looks up at you, leans up to press your lips together and you’re unravelling in his arms.

He kisses like a fucking boyfriend, lips gliding against your own just roughly enough to have you melting into it, tongue swiping your bottom lip the same way Eddie did to him just minutes earlier, licking into your mouth and gliding his tongue against your own in this perfect rhythm that has you rutting down into his lap. The thick length of his now fully hard cock nestles perfectly in the cave of your pussy, only covered by three thin layers of clothing. 

You’re delirious with it, hands on his cheeks, fingers buried into his hair as you suck face like you might die if you stop. You can feel Eddie’s intense gaze on you both, his hand slipping in between Steve and your own torsos to tug gently at your loose shirt, pushing it up your chest to expose your tits to the cool air. 

His fingers are everywhere, rubbing and pulling at your nipples, hardening them and sending shockwaves of want and desire down your entire body. Steve disconnects your lips with a string of spit, his eyes hazy and darkened with lust as he bends down to latch onto your tit, sucking and licking it into his mouth like a desperate thing. 

You’re so turned on you might fucking die, rutting against Steve’s clothed erection fast and hard, desperate to feel that catch and drag rough against your clit. 

“Feel good, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, breath hot against the side of your face, mouthing at the sensitive skin below your ear, “Harrington as talented with his mouth as you hoped?” 

“I know now why the ladies love him,” you squeak, unable to contain it when Eddie’s fingers finally leave the swollen bud of your nipple and dip down below, hand hot and heavy as he pushes the offending material of your shorts away so he can press against your cunt, swiping over your clit with two fingers, the back of his palm digging into Steve’s cock in the process.

“Oh my fucking god,” Steve grunts pathetically, bites down on your nipple and punches his hips up into Eddie’s hand, rocks against him for a moment before settling back down again. He pulls off of you with a wet pop, chooses instead to trail kisses up your chest and to your neck that have you moaning unabashedly, “you sound s’fucking pretty, can’t believe it.” 

You can hardly focus on a single thing, ears ringing as pleasure takes over your body. Eddie knows you inside and out, pushes with a perfect pressure on your clit, swiping over it in fast circles as he mutters sweet nothings, coaxing moans and gasps from you with every touch. Steve’s attacking your neck, biting and kissing, leaving a mark in a way that you’d practically wished for for too fucking long.

“Shit, Harrington,” Eddie’s voice raising a little knocks you out of it, his fingers slipping through the wetness of your folds and off of your clit like he was caught off guard, “like it a little rough or somethin’?” 

Your half lidded eyes watch as Steve’s hand grips at Eddie’s thigh, ghosting closer and closer to the inside seam until Eddie breaks, uses his free hand to pop the button on his jeans and shuck them down his thighs, finally allowing his cock the damn release from those tight pants.

Eddie resumes his motions on your clit properly once he’s done shuffling, “Sorry, sweetheart.” He apologises, swirling the tips of his fingers over the bundle of nerves fast enough to have you seeing stars, “Know you well enough to know it won’t take you long, anyway.”

He’s right. The slick noises of your pussy being worked over invade your ears, the deep blooming in your core rising quickly as Eddie sets an almost brutal rhythm, desperate to get you there. You cling onto Steve’s biceps as he sucks another bruise just below your jaw, hot mouth leaving your skin finally, letting up so that you can breathe, if only a little.

You’re not sure why it shocks you when Steve spits into his palm like it’s nothing, wraps a firm hand around the length of Eddie’s cock like he’s done it a million times before but it does, and suddenly you’re flushing hot all over, the visual of Eddie’s eyes shutting and mouth falling open in a grunt the last thing you see before your eyes squeeze shut, your orgasm wracking your body with such force that you slump into Steve’s front — head on his shoulder, hips stuttering as Eddie works you through it.

“That’s it, honey, oh shit,” Steve’s voice sounds strained as he watches you stain the front of his shorts with your release, his hand heavy on your waist as you ride Eddie’s hand, his wrist glistening in the light, “you’re both so hot, fuck me.” 

You flush at Steve’s words, whining in the back of your throat, “Sensitive, Eds,” you squeal, hips jerking back and away from Eddie’s hand – you get why he’s slow to move, when you see how Steve’s jerking his cock, how Eddie’s hips are fucking up into it, the dark red head leaking down his shaft and coating Steve’s fingers. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie’s apologetic as his hand moves, though he’s so breathy and fucked out that you can tell he’s hardly paying enough attention to care, “get your fucking dick out, Steve.” 

Your trembling hands do it for him, and Steve willingly lifts his hips up to let you pull the offending material down. His cock springs out and — oh, oh fuck.

He’s so fucking big it makes your mouth water, so heavy under it’s own weight that it sits flush against Steve’s toned, heaving belly as he sucks in sharp breaths, slightly curved to the side and cut, the head almost purple with need, soaking wet with his own precum.

“Of course you’ve got a monster cock,” Eddie grunts, rolling his eyes, no heat to his words when Steve squeezes him tighter, jerks the head, flicks his thumb over the slit, “would’ve sworn you’d touched a hundred dicks with how good you are at it, fuuuck.” 

“You’re gonna give me a goddamn complex,” Steve moans, stripping Eddie’s cock faster until the other man is literally shaking in his spot, hips vibrating, and you’ve seen this a million times — Eddie is close.

“Stop— mmph, stop, gotta stop,” Eddie pants, scrambling to halt Steve’s motions on his dick, which Steve does without a second thought, though his hand still lays loosely on the base as it pulses, slit weeping, “I’m gonna blow my fucking load if you keep doing that shit.” 

There’s a heavy silence between you all for a moment, exchanged looks that say more than words probably could in such a highly charged situation — it’s like Steve was always here, the way he slots in and understands exactly what’s going on like he’d been with you both before in this way. It makes your heart clench, makes your tummy do flips.

You climb from Steve’s lap, rid yourself of your shorts and soiled panties whilst Steve and Eddie shuffle themselves around – Steve lying down, head propped up on the two sad looking pillows Eddie always kept around, and Eddie on his knees at Steve’s side. 

It’d be truly ridiculous to look at from an outsider's perspective, like a bad porno movie, but you’re all so turned on that you can’t see past the want to care enough, as you climb back into Steve’s lap and resume your position.

“Want you to fuck me now,” you murmur, doe eyed and desperate as you cling to Steve’s shirt, rocking down onto his dick again, spreading your wetness over his shaft, “please, Steve?” 

Steve whines pathetically, grabs a hold of his dick by the base, hazards a guess at where your opening is and fails miserably, unable to see anything at this angle. You try to help, wiggling your hips until the fat head catches on your clit — you both groan, a slight tinge of laughter in yours from the absurdity of it all.

“Damn Steve, can’t even find her pussy when it’s right in front of you,” Eddie huffs impatiently, yet his words are full of arousal you swear you’ve never heard, licking his wet, plump lips as he leans over to grab the base of Steve’s cock, slides the head against your wet cunt until you’re both whining and gasping for it, “sit on him then, sweetheart. Take his big cock like the good girl you are, yeah?” 

Steve grips onto the meat of your thighs as you sink down, gasping at the sheer stretch — Steve really was bigger than Eddie and nothing could’ve prepared you for the intrusion. Your cunt leaks down his shaft, down Eddie’s hand until he’s removing it so you can sink down completely, adjusting to the stretch by wiggling your hips. 

You can tell Steve is trying to keep his composure and failing miserably, if the way he’s grunting through his clenched teeth is anything to go by. You seize the opportunity, clamp your walls down around his length deliberately until he’s sputtering, grappling onto your skin even tighter, “D-don’t, can’t do that — I’ll come so fucking quick,” he gasps, staring up at you with wild eyes. 

Eddie barks out a laugh from the side of you, and you can tell it’s from the sheer satisfaction – knowing that even though Steve’s cock is bigger there’s no way he’s going to be as good at fucking you as Eddie. Of course that’ll feed his ego, the town freak being better at fucking than Hawkins’ own certified slut.

“Go on, sweetheart. Show him what your pretty little cunt can do,” Eddie’s encouraging you, one hand loosely holding the base of his own cock, the other now placed on the small of your back, a grounding movement that keeps you from losing it all together.

You grip onto Steve’s broad shoulders, nails biting into the skin as you use your knees for leverage, take the first aching drag up the length of his cock. You feel like you’re being split apart from the inside, the dull hurting so fucking good that you’re sick with it.

“Oh fuck, that’s it, baby,” Steve’s eyebrows marry together as he watches you take him in fucking awe or something, unable to tear his eyes away from where you’re sinking up and down on him. 

It’s torturously slow whilst you adjust to him, a tentative bounce and rock motion until your pussy is soaked from the constant press on your gspot. 

You speed up your movements and Steve is all but wailing and begging beneath you, Eddie looming over the top of him and tugging lazily at his own cock, almost like he’s not entirely sure what he wants to do — or what he’s allowed to do.

Steve looks up at him, ripping his eyes away from your pussy sucking him in, leaving behind creamy rings of release on his shaft. He’s wide eyed and almost manic, watching as Eddie fucks his fist, “Put it– put it in my mouth, I wanna. Wanna suck you off.”

Eddie chokes on his own tongue momentarily, eyes bugging out of his head at Steve’s request, “You – I, what?” He laughs incredulously, though he’s already shuffling up next to Steve’s head, and Steve moves with him, craning his neck to the side and opening his mouth wide, tongue lolling out. Eddie fists a handful of Steve’s hair, sliding his cock into Steve’s mouth with an obscene fluidity, “You really are a fuckin’ slut, huh?” 

Steve moans around his mouthful, nods what little he can manage as Eddie begins to rock in and out, building a slow rhythm, the loud slurping noises of Steve’s saliva adding to the noise of your soaked pussy fucking down onto him. You’re so turned on it hurts, the sight of them both together has you closing in on your second orgasm quickly, with a lightning speed.

The sound of wet skin, from sweat and ungodly amounts of body fluid is so loud you’re sure anybody within a five mile radius could hear you all, and that does something to your insides that you don’t think you could admit to out loud. Steve’s large hands move your hips, help you along as you bounce quicker on his cock, chasing your high, and you have to hand it to him that he’s a seriously good multitasker. 

“You’re fucking — God, can’t believe you’re sucking me like this,” Eddie cries, ever the one to be so fucking vocal, and it’s clear as day he’s close to the edge already, “so fucking talented with that mouth — oh fuck, keep doing that. Yeah, yeah, oh fuck.” 

“I hate you both so fucking much,” you gasp, arching your back and crying out as you bounce up and down on Steve’s cock in short, snappy motions. Steve grunts, fingernails biting into your hip, a clear sign that he wants you to keep doing that, and you do, “I’m-I’m, shit m’gonna cum –!” 

It hits you like a goddamn freight train, your thighs trembling, hands gripping and nails biting at Steve’s abs as you come, gushing wet and walls fluttering as the feeling settles deep in your stomach. Your legs give up on you, body turning to jello within seconds.

Eddie can’t take his eyes off of you, watching you with such intensity that you feel his eyes basically burning holes into your head. You’re sure he doesn’t even blink as you rock through it, tits bouncing and mouth agape in the most delicious moans. 

Steve’s patience wears thin, his hips fucking up into you from below, hands moving you on and off of his cock as if you’re a fucking ragdoll, but he’s not even really paying attention to you — he’s focused on Eddie, mouthing heavily at the other mans dick, taking and taking it as Eddie feeds it to him with nothing more than a few moans and grunts.

“Need to cum, let me cum on your face,” Eddie begs, tears his eyes from you finally to ask Steve the damn question, rutting into his mouth jerkily, practically sobbing as he reaches the end, “wanna ruin you so bad, fuck, please?” 

Steve’s so far gone, nestled so tight in your pussy and drunk on it that he’d agree to anything, nods what little he can and Eddie takes barely a second to slip from Steve’s mouth. Tightens his fist around his own cock as he jerks it messily above Steve’s face.

“Your pussy is like heaven, fuck,” Steve grunts, voice worn and fucked out from being stuffed full for so long, and you’re so overstimulated you barely register what he’s doing, brain fuzzy. His fingers dig into your hips tight enough to bruise as he fucks you so hard you’re seeing stars, “cumming, I’m fucking cumming.” 

Steve forces you down so hard on his cock that you wail, clinging onto him for dear life as he pulses deep inside of you, coating your insides with his release. You swear you’ve fucking died and gone to heaven or something, with how good it feels.

Eddie grunts from his place in front of you, “so fucking hot, shit, shit, oh fuck,” blurting from his mouth as he comes, his load shooting so far it kind of misses Steve’s face all together and instead spurts down his neck and chest. 

A long wave of silence washes over you all as you all come down, a mess of sweaty limbs, coated in each others sex. You know the van had ought to fucking reek of it, the sheets below you all soaked and soiled. None of you find it in you to care as you pant heavily, hands all over each other as some weird form of aftercare, stroking and touching.  

“Steve, where’s your car, man?” Eddie asks, breaking the silence yet again from where he’d finally slumped back on his ass next to Steve’s head.

Steve looks at Eddie like he’s stupid, furrowing his brows, “My car? Dude, I ran here. It’s only, like, six miles or something from my house, it’s not exactly far.” 

You cackle loudly from your place in between Steve’s legs, “And you called me stupid for insinuating somebody walked out here!” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, flips you both the bird, though there’s a little quirk on the corners of his lips.

You’re not sure what’ll happen from here, if anything at all, but the comforting aura you feel is enough to have you guessing that maybe it’s far from the final time.

to anybody who read this and took a chance on it, thank you all so much! this has been a little labour of love and i actually started on it before christmas, it was meant to be nothing more than a quick little smut fic but i felt it needed more. thank you all in advance for any likes, reblogs and sweet comments you leave, it means the absolute world.

[darkdarkstucky]

Enchanted, S. Rogers and C. Kent.

SUMMARY: In a world where Omega's were scant and decent alpha's even more so, you think you're one in a million to be in a relationship with Alpha's who not only take care of your every whims and need, but also love and respect you unconditionally. However, your marital bliss of two years is interrupted by the concept of ‘true mates’.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Clark kent.

Warnings: Cursing, Angst.

A/N: imy guys!!!!!

CHAPTER FOUR

“What are you going to do, dollface?” Natasha asks, a worried frown on her face. “You know i will fully support you in whatever decision you make, but i worry about you.”

This is the only life you know about; Were the words left unsaid. Safe in their arms and shielded from the horrors of the world, you were carefully treasured at the palm of their hands, never truly knowing what it meant to suffer any form of grievance.

How will you ever live otherwise? Well, spite was a powerful thing. Heartbreak too. What do they say about women who were scorned? Never to fuck with them.

And right about now, you were feeling extremely vengeful and inclined to doing something extremely stupid. Although, for the sake of being fair and the years you shared with your husbands, you were leaning towards a peaceful resolution. One that was being refuted by the small voice you tempered down with reason.

The tears have gone dry, and the omega inside of you was itching for revenge. Wanting to give your alpha's a new one. A reason for them to truly look the other way.

She surprised you. Normally, she takes their side no matter what happened. Never finding fault with Steve nor Clark, always whining for their attention and barely holding any sort of grudge. But now she's steaming with anger and egging you on to abandon their sorry asses.

You figured it was a betrayal that ran deeper than flesh. You were on the prepice of being replaced, of being abandoned. Your base instinct was rebelling against the idea of being tossed aside, and urging you to flee before you truly get replaced. A self preservation instinct, if you will.

“To be honest, i don't know either.” You whisper, biting your lower lip in thought. “They have told me absolutely nothing. Acting as if i was a merely a decoration in their lives. It's so frustrating because they treat me as if i don't matter, like i was a stranger in my own home.”

Natasha bites her lower lip, sitting herself close to you and holding your hands in earnest. "Tell me how to help you."

Your shoulders were tense and your expression quickly shifted from that of hurt and heartbreak, to a blank one. Determination was squarely set in your gaze as you come up with a resolution for you.

"I need to leave."

***

"I could kill you." Steve's booming baritone welcomes Clark as he pressed the phone to his ears. He expected the other Alpha to have a good nose when it came to such things; all matters concerning you were their top priority so it didn't come as a shock.

Clark maintains he'd never do anything to hurt you, and that oath holds him true to this day. Yet the circumstance had him on a short, tight leash in navigating that promise. He was duty bound, no matter how cruel it sounded.

An omega just for him. One that was his genetic match. In paper.

"Nice of you to check in." He waves the rest of his staff away, knowing the conversation to be personal with threats of every kind being thrown about in the mix.

"You better have a good reason as to why you're housing a bitch." Steve bit the word off like he was utterly disgusted, and a growl ripped through Clark's chest.

"Mind your words, brother." He warns, jaw clenching. No matter how mild-tempered he was, the other alpha's implication had him defensive. He rested his back on the swivel chair, sighing "I don't take kindly at your implication."

"I'm not implying anything, Kent." Steve hisses, "I can take my wife away. Make it so you'd never even see her—"

"I dare you, Rogers." Clark tenses, the menacing growl cutting through the silence in his office. "She is as much bound to me in matrimony."

Steve and Clark were both powerful in their own right— their wealth and affluence were second to none, and they were the unspoken kings of New York. While they exercise dominance in many aspects of their life, it would be unlikely they bring the same menacing attitude home.

No, at home, they were merely your husbands. Parallel in their desire to keep you satisfied and happy, like any alpha with their bonded mate. Their base instincts craved to see you comfortable, well loved and safe under their careful care.

It was as surprising to the rest of the world when such dominant alphas could share a sole omega; even so, because Steve and Clark barely intersected if not on a business setting. While sharing among packs were commonplace, neither Alpha's belonged in the same faction, with Clark being hailed from Smallville and Steve in Brooklyn.

They were as civilized as they come. Polite, educated, over-achieving faces of their prime designation. However, anybody would tell you that propriety and forgiveness does not hold any single ounce of sway in their lives once somebody as much steps on their toes.

Being possessive and selfish came with that territory, so while their arguements were few and far between— measured and handled with like responsible adults, there had indeed been times where they almost rip eachother's head off unbeknownst to you.

"You have to believe that i have her best interest in my heart." Clark grounds out, trying to temper down an outburst. He tries his best to rationalize; He wasn't trying to justify a so called affair to him, or get away with something unspeakable.

Clark knows he would react the same, if not with a tentative explosion aimed to snuff out Steve; he shared the same protectiveness when it came to you, afterall, yet he was designated to become the necessary evil in the grand scheme of things. He needed to be the executioner of the dirty work lest... lest it touches you.

"Trust me." Clark emphasizes, tone set with certainty and self-assurance; his was a confidence that had won him everything in life. "You know as much as i do what needs to be done."

There was a pause in the other line.

"Make it quick." Steve's agreement was strained, a hint of relent in his visage. Things had spiralled out of their control a few dozen things ago, and he was desperate to have a shred of control. "It does not touch her, Kent. Not ever."

"You don't need to tell me twice." Came his prompt response, "Safe skies, then. You wouldn't want me to have all the fun, do you?"