#steve burns so fast lmao

[iwriteofdelrey]

I was wondering if you can write a Bumblebee(B-127) x Cybertronians!reader, where B-127 was staring at trash burning, and the reader fell out of the trash chute, and he saves the reader just in time before the reader went in the fire, and we help him build Steve?

AWHHH RAHHH I LOVE I LOVE HIMMM (I’m in my bumblebee onesie as we speak)

I LOVE ITTY IGHHFKDSKSKDKFKFKFIGIG

B-127 x cybertronian! Reader

Spoilers for Transformers One if you haven’t seen it. 

gnreader, mentions death, injuries, and angst, not edited.

"I don't want to go back up there, anyway..."

I listened to Chihiro and Ocean Eyes while making this lol.  

You were a miner. A very low-ranking miner. 

You had tried to be happy. Sometimes it didn't work.

You always ended up frowning, doing your job.

You had a [Preferred paint color] paint job and were always covered in scratches or dirt. It was rough. It was so rough. 

You were always tired, always looking pitiful. You didn’t know why you did. You were working towards saving Cybertron. 

You weren’t treated with much respect. You were always being taken advantage of. By anyone. The bots who worked aside you, your superiors, everyone. It seems cliche, but it does.

Doesn’t everyone get stepped on, especially in this environment? Well, you could argue yes, but it sure was damn different.  

You already had a dangerous job, and felt so invisible and treated with such disregard. You were by yourself, always by yourself. 

Sometimes, on little breaks, you thought to yourself. You thought to yourself a lot; Too much for a little ol’ bot with a low-ranked job. It was hard to find your reason in life and who you were. 

 Sometimes you’d question why you had no cog or were not of high rank. You’d question why you even had to mine for Energon anyway. Why were you always mining for it? It was hours on end.

No sleep sometimes. Barely, if you’re lucky. 

One day, you were working on putting packages and boxes together to send to the other bots to put on the transport.

You were leaning over the edge of the conveyor belt, even though you shouldn't have, to make sure some of the packages were sealed correctly. It is true that some slack and rush, and don't even check if it's right or corrected.

something had happened in which all the bots had to evacuate for something.

You tried getting up from leaning over the edge, but instead, you got shoved and pushed.

You had fallen in. It happened so fast. It's like you fell sideways but you went downward.

You or anybody else didn't have time to react. Did they even care? Probably not. Maybe some did.

You hit the side of your helm and it felt like you blacked out. You blacked out on what seemed like the conveyor belt to the...To the trash chute!?

You were barely even conscious. You really just look up and then close your eyes. You couldn't think much about anything. All of this happened too fast. You felt a cold liquid run down your face (do they even bleed? or. would I say leak?)

That's really beside the fact.

You did hear "Oh my primus," a couple times from the bots above you, but really it was kinda late to grab you or get anyone to save you.

Now to B now!

Bumblebee was simply watching trash. Trash that goes into the burner.

He didn't really get the point, but at least he could keep this assignment.

Sure he felt lonely, but again, it wasn't like he didn't fully enjoy his job. He could just hang by himself all day.

All B was was just a bot who was by himself a lot. All the time. No one even came down there.

Yeah, sometimes he wanted someone who he could talk to, or hang out with. It felt like hell. Maybe it was. I mean he did work near the trash burner on one of the lowest levels. It might as well be.

Even trying to be optimistic, he would find himself frowning at the trash like this.

( LMAO THIS POOR BABY)

Anyway, he really did try to stay as sane as he could.

when he heard a sound coming from the trash chute, he couldn't help but wonder what it could possibly be.

"Do they just send anything down here now?" he went.

"It can barely fit down the chute," he continued, getting closer to it.

Once whatever was in the chute got close to the end, it came down fast.

With a BANG, you fall on the conveyor belt, limp.

"Oh my Primus, it's another bot!" he said, quickly acting, pulling your limp frame off of the conveyor belt before you could reach the trash. He stopped the machine and placed you on the ground.

You look kinda conscious but definitely not responsive.

He took off his protective helmet and tried to figure out your situation.

"Are you alright?" He tries to speak to you.

All you could do was move your eyes. Little by little you realize you were on the ground.

"Do you need help?" He asked again, panicking, especially after realizing you had a cut or a bruise of some sort on your helm.

"Try getting up, maybe I could help you if you get Energon running through you again," he suggested.

You blink a couple times.

You try to recognize where you are. You couldn't Though, was that really the most of your worries. You fell into the conveyor belt and almost died for crying out loud.

You groan and put a servo on your helm as you get up slowly.

You rub your face plate and look back at it. Dirt, dust, and-- shit you're leaking.

You put your servo back and down and look around. Everything through your optics felt so saturated. It felt not normal. You hadn't even noticed the bot next to you, looking just as concerned for you as you were for yourself.

You could honestly care less about your surroundings or who this other bot was. At least for now. Not in a mean way. You just felt hurt. Your frame felt numb and so did your face plate.

"Y-you fell down the chute..." He began, looking at you.

You rubbed your helm a bit more and looked at him then at where you would've ended up if he didn't do anything.

"Thank you," you said simply.

"My pleasure," he replied.

"I'm guessing don't have many.. uhm options to get back up there..do I?" You asked.

He shook his helm.

"I could help you- with your injury that is. You seemed to have taken a really big fall," he said, grabbing something.

You guess you did. You barely remembered what had happened it had all gone down so quick.

You looked down. Maybe if you hadn't leaned over the edge, none of this would've happened. You were lucky to even still be online.

B looked at you, after grabbing a bandage. He saw you were upset. He couldn't blame you. Maybe you had it good up there.

"Hey, uhh, I never got your name--" He starts, trying to distract you.

You widened your eyes, getting ready to respond.

"Oh, it's Y/N," you began.

You look at him as he gives you the bandage, hoping he'll respond with his name back.

"Well, Y/N, I'm B-127, I work here at this very level...Just me..." he says smiling...Kinda.

You give a weak smile. He seemed sweet. And alone. Just like you.

"I worked as a low-rank miner who packaged boxes for transport," you go on. "Not so different from picking out valuable stuff from scrap, and watching trash." you finish.

"Looks like I'm stuck down here, but at least you seem cool," you say smiling a little more.

He smiles back sitting with you. He was pretty happy. You were a person he could talk to.

"At least we'll have one another," he says.

"It's better than what my life was up there." You say, thinking.

"I'd rather be down here than be up there," you continue.

After a couple of days, a bot couldn't tell if you guys had been friends all your life or if you guys met a couple days prior.

It was funny because, after about a month, you guys decided to build a buddy!

You decided to name him Steve :3

After building Steve, you had wanted to make a mask just like B's.

"I made a mask like yours, B. Isn't it hella badass? I got it from you," you laugh.

He definitely calls himself Badass after that

(that's where he got the name from!)

You both are glad you found each other when you guys did. You both needed it.

silly ahh alien LMAO

-King

[sheisjoeschateau]

"Oh, so we DO love Steve... | PART VII

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER VII WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - strong language, ruthless banter, mentions of death, injuries, end-of-the-world terror talk, newfound shared codependency (but like it's healthy imo also it's valid lmao) jealousy. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this chapter is honestly a gahdamn MF feast. a favorite of mine NGL, for a multitude of reasons. Murray high key pops the fuck off like the boss bitch he is and takes us on a long lecture of a journey to visit the lordt of truth bombs. Eddie has zero chill. Robin is the bestest-best-fwend and platonic-with-a-capital-p soulmate to our boy. Dustin is a dingus. LUCAS BE SEEIN' THINGS. Hopper is Joppering. Nancy and Jonathan get a clue. Mama Steve and the kids are in full swing. We get a cutie cameo from Harrington's signature yellow sweater.

And our lovebirds finallyyyy......well.....say the magic word that they're feeling hehehe:)

ISSA LONG ONE. PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve knew he would have to face downstairs again at some point before the morning.  Definitely before everyone else went to bed.  But he couldn’t bring himself to.  Not yet.

Because right now, you were fast asleep in his arms.  Laid carefully on your back for the sake of your bad shoulder, with your head turned into his chest.  Steve was propped up on an elbow, facing you with his other hand gliding his fingertips to trace your arm draped across your chest.  He drew shapes up your arm, now adorned with his yellow crewneck, up to your jawline so that he could tuck your hair behind your ear. 

And all the while, he just stared at your chest – comforted by the steady rise and fall.  It kept him sane.  It kept his eyes open.  It kept him from letting the nightmare return.  You slept so peacefully, he might never have known you’d been dead in his arms earlier that day.

“You are beautiful, Steve Harrington.”

Your words from last night ran through his mind on a loop, like a VHS tape on replay.

“I can’t stand you.”

You’d said it in the warmest voice Steve had ever heard in his life.  Somehow, those words meant more to him than I love you.  Because when he said it back, he realized it meant the same thing. 

“I can’t stand you either.” 

I love you too.

Steve carefully placed his forehead against your temple, eyes fluttering shut and breathing you in.  Something danced inside of his stomach.  It ached, it burned and it warned him of all the things he feared feeling the most for anyone except the girl downstairs who had made love seem lost.  He never wanted those feelings to return again for anyone else but her – Nancy.  And yet here he was: every one of those feelings rushed back tenfold, for the girl upstairs in his guest bedroom lying beside him.  The girl who had ruined the chance at a life for him with Nancy Wheeler.  The girl he swore was the reason he was robbed of all things good.  Robbed of love.  True love.

But he no longer loved Nancy Wheeler. 

Steve Harrington loved you.

Downstairs, everyone is quiet but productive. 

Joyce is organizing the last of the stashed supplies.  The kids are eating some bowls of hot soup, served up by Murray.  He had to stay busy and shake off the frayed nerves.   Otherwise, he’d go berserk.  Completely berserk.  Joyce gently helped him but knew better than to baby him.  She was surprised to find Erica walking over, offering to help serve up some glasses of water or sodas for everyone.  To everyone’s surprise, they operated well.  Like chef and sous-chef.  What an unlikely duo.

Hopper and El were talking in the living room about the potential new plan, and Mike moved from the table where he sat with the kids and teens to join them.

Steve could hear them all down there, the ambience muffled on the other side of the closed door separating you both from the rest of the world outside of each other's arms.  He could have fallen asleep right there with you if he let himself.

But a soft knock on the door made him crane his head to look towards the source of the noise.  With one last look at you, he carefully slipped his arm out from underneath you.  You never stirred, the rhythm of your breathing still intact and your mind lost in sleep.

Steve wasn’t sure who to expect on the other side of the door.  But as he ran a hand through his hair, he found himself not caring. 

Turns out, it was Murray.  He stood with two bowls of hot soup, now staring into the eyes of Steve Harrington — who he begrudgingly noted still looked dashing, despite his towel-dried bedhead and tired eyes.

Seriously, no one should make a t-shirt and sweatpants look that good. 

Your uncle cleared his throat.  “Uhh, I made some soup.”

Steve gave him a timid but grateful nod, taking one of the bowls.  Glancing back over his shoulder, Murray followed Harrington’s gaze — back at you, sleeping in bed. 

“She’s still out,” Steve told him. 

Murray nodded.  “I’ll keep hers warm downstairs.”  An awkward silence fell over Murray and Steve, but finally your uncle continued.  “Listen, why not come down?  Let her rest, get yourself some water or — a sandwich maybe, to go with the soup.  Erica says she’ll make them but I'm reallllly not feeling confident about that.”

Steve allowed himself a soft chuckle at that, biting his lip and glancing back at you. 

“She’s alright,” your uncle assured Steve.  “Trust me.  I keep having to remind myself that, too.”

Steve was glad that the two of them could relate on that — endlessly worrying about you.  He was also glad that your uncle wasn’t giving him shit for it, and honestly Murray was extremely pleasant when he wasn’t being an ass.  It took Steve by surprise.  No wonder you two were related.  With a reluctant sigh, Steve agreed to follow Murray downstairs for some more grub.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Steve’s eyes first landed on Nancy sitting with Robin and Joyce.  She looked over at Steve with her big blue eyes, which danced with longing.  Steve’s doe brown eyes didn’t return it, but he lightly smiled in her direction anyway.  Robin immediately perked up, jogging over to Steve from her seated position on the floor.  She grabbed him for a tight hug, and he made sure not to spill his bowl of soup.

“Sorry sorry, I’ve just — been worried sick.”

“S’okay, Robs,” Steve murmured, appreciating the comfort.  She pulled back to look at him, giving him a sad smile.  She wanted to ask him a million questions, but knew it best to save it for later.

“C’mon,” Robin told him, tilting her head towards the kitchen.  “Let’s go grab some crackers or something to go with that soup, which you need to eat.  Don’t even think about not eating, Steve.  I’m serious, okay?”

Steve listened to her keep rambling on as they walked into the kitchen, where Erica and Lucas were bickering about PB&J’s, and Murray stepped in to take back his title as head chef.  Eddie and Jonathan were sitting at the dining table, clearly in deep conversation but ceasing once they noticed them walking in.  Jonathan gave him a pitying look, while Eddie flashed a dopey grin to try and hide whatever serious talk was just going down.

Dustin, Mike and Will all rounded the corner as Steve moved to sit at the bar.  They all sat next to him happily.  YAY, MOM’S HOME.

Steve ruffled Dustin’s hair absentmindedly as he sipped on his soup and stared down at his spoon.  Erica was shoving a very haphazard looking sandwich in front of him while Lucas told him he’d spit it out after the first bite, which sent all the kids into a frenzy of bickering, lighthearted insults and witty comebacks.  Steve sighed, content as he ate several mouthfuls of the sandwich while listening to his kids squabble.

Jonathan was shaking his head over in the corner, observing this.  “Guy’s a hero to those kids,” he murmured, only loud enough for Eddie to hear. 

“Babysitter turned full-time mom turned hero,” Eddie smirks, amused.  “Dude’s a legend.”

Jonathan scoffs, amused but also not.  “Wasn’t always...”

Eddie clocks what he means by that.  He knew King Steve, too.  But Eddie can see a twinge of something else in Joanthan’s eyes, surprised to see it.  Jealousy.  It’s subtle.  Not toxic, or even remotely a threat. 

That is, until Jonathan sees Nancy moving to take a sandwich from Erica — her eyes wandering over to Steve and the kids.  She looks enchanted, melancholy.  Is she sad?  Why is she sad?

…why is she sad looking at Steve?

Jonathan’s brow furrows.  Eddie decides he better speak up and interrupt whatever he’s thinking.  Because he sees it too.  Uh oh.

“Trust me, he was a dick.  I know.  Told him so myself.”  Eddie tries to make light of it, grinning.  “But I think sometimes…some folks just need a big thump on the head.  Shit, I did.  I used to run away from alllllll my problems.  Hell, I…I’ve even had my share of making others feel small, just so I can feel big.  Not in a bad way, though.  Never mean.  Just…immature.  Y’know?  Point is, I’ve been there too.  Maybe not as big a dick as Harrington…”  He snorted.  “No pun intended.”

Jonathan whipped his head in Eddie’s direction.  What did that mean?

Eddie quickly tried to cover up his reference to the Hawkins High heartthrob’s manhood.  “I just mean, I just mean — like — we’ve all been dicks.  You know?  Big ones.  Small ones.  Medium…sized…ones.”

He counted at least 5 perplexed blinks from Jonathan.  Eddie sighed, exasperated with himself.  “The point, the point.  We uhh…we live and we learn.  Right?”

Jonathan finally let his tense shoulders loosen up at that, but he glanced back at Nancy – who was still watching Steve as she got herself a glass of water and letting Robin ramble to her.  And Jonathan also watched Steve, who was now telling Dustin to share the box of crackers with everyone and not hog them from everybody. 

It began to click for Jonathan.  The longing stares.  The unusually strained affection between him and Nancy, ever since he got back.  He knew that was partially his fault, if not entirely his fault, given him pulling away from her after moving to California.  But then he got back to Hawkins, and realized the second he saw her that he’d been a fool to think he would ever be better off without her, or convince himself that she could be better off without him.  One look at her made it all go away.  They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and Jonathan was definitely aware of that now.

But had it made Nancy’s heart grow fonder, too?  For Jonathan?

…or had distance made her heart grow fonder for someone else…

Someone else who she had distanced herself from once before, when she found love and comfort in Jonathan Byers’ arms.  Harrington had been away from Nancy when she was around Byers, and then Byers was away from Nancy when the world went to shit again, putting her back around Harrington again.  No Byers in sight.

…was this karma?  Jonathan Byers was beginning to wonder that.  Was this what he got for so confidently whisking Wheeler away from Steve back in high school?  Is this what he got for thinking he was safe?

…maybe that is what Steve meant when screaming at him earlier, as they tried to pump you back to life.

“DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING STOP.”  Jonathan would never forget the way that Steve’s sounded as he spewed at him.  Broken, anguished and betrayed.

“IT’S NOT WORKING,” Jonathan had wept bitterly.  “IT’S TOO LATE.”

When Nancy had chosen Jonathan, Steve never got mad.  He never got mad at either of them.  He told Nancy he got it; that it was okay.  And he never said anything to Byers about it.  Next time they ran into each other, it was just tense silence.  Steve might have picked a fight with Jonathan once before, that damn morning in the alleyway when Will was still missing.  But that was 2 years ago now, and it felt childish compared to everything that had happened since then.  Steve’s anger then was so subdued to what it could have been, and he never explored anger towards Jonathan once he had successfully managed to take his girl.

But the way that Steve Harrington looked at Jonathan now, while you were dead beneath their hands, was fueled by anger.  Red hot and flaming.  He looked ready to finally unleash on Jonathan, ready to blame him for his existence and how it only brought Steve grief.  For once, Steve Harrington looked rightfully angry with Jonathan Byers for being the source of his pain.  Steve looked ready to punch him square in the jaw and beat him up the way he’d had his own face beat up by not just Byers, but also Billy Hargrove and the Russians.

“DON’T SAY THAT.  NO ONE GAVE UP ON YOUR BROTHER, YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST GIVE UP ON US NOW?  THINK ANY OF US WANTED TO STOP WHEN WE THOUGHT IT WAS TOO LATE?  FUCK YOU, BYERS.  FUCK YOU.”

Jonathan deserved it.  He completely deserved it.  All of it.  It had been a long time coming, and while it was over 2 years past due…he took it.  All of it.  Even what was still left unsaid.  Jonathan let Steve verbally rip him to shreds before Eddie took over and brought you back to life with Steve instead of him.

And that’s why now, as Jonathan watched Nancy catch him staring at her — looking caught as she tried to give him a smile — he let it happen.  He just gave her a reluctant smile back, accepting his fate.  Because now, after what he had seen today, he realized that Steve wasn’t even a threat.  Maybe a month or so ago, he would have been.  But that wasn’t the case now, which he only knew after seeing the way that Steve clung to you and sobbed uncontrollably over your lifeless body – then afterwards, when you were alive again. 

Steve no longer pined for Nancy Wheeler.  He pined for you. 

Not for long, though.  Honestly, it was as clear as day that whatever was going on between the two of you was mutual.  The way you held Steve earlier, comforted him — assuring him that it was alright, you were alright — and how you stroked his leg in the living room before he helped you upstairs and disappeared for a couple of hours into your assigned guest room… Jonathan knew, along with Eddie, that Steve Harrington’s heart was in your hands, and yours was his. 

It’s what Jonathan and Eddie had brought up at the table.  Not the whole “why hasn’t Steve unleashed his anger on me until today” aspect of things.  But the fact that you and Steve, who seemingly could not stand each other, now seemed like a pair.  

Nancy moved to sit next to Jonathan, who awkwardly poked at his soup bowl and did his best to fake a smile.  Eddie watched them, knowing.  Man, he could really use one of his guitars right now to pluck out the tension…

Lucas was saying something about Max needing to be checked on upstairs, which made Steve quickly shove the last of his sandwich into his mouth so that he could come help him and Erica along with Will, El and Mike.  They all made their way up, and Dustin stayed behind.  He moved over to the big kids table, bringing the box of crackers over with him.  He plopped down next to Eddie, who was grateful for the comic relief after the tense talk at the table.  Robin moved to bring over fresh cups of coffee, sitting between everyone.

“So uhhh, we gonna talk about it?”

Dustin’s question made everyone freeze. 

Robin cocked an eyebrow, leaning onto her elbows to sip her coffee.  “About what…?”

“About Bauman and Steve, and how we all clearly did not see it coming.”

Robin choked on her coffee.  Nancy stiffened next to Jonathan, which he didn’t miss — considering her hand was resting on his forearm.  Eddie drummed the table awkwardly while nodding and staring straight ahead at absolutely nothing. 

“Yeeeeeee-up, caught me off guard,” Eddie said.  “I’m normally good at picking up on that shit.”

Robin was still working on clearing her throat.  “Look, we don’t know anything yet —”

“He’s literally your best friend, Robin,” Dustin accused with an eye roll.  “If any of us know, you do.”

“Well my strange, tiny friend,” Robin quipped wryly, “I’m afraid I’m just as in the dark on this as you are.”  She sighed, leaning back in her seat with a flash of concern in her eyes.  “I really should have seen it coming, though.  I was so sure he was just gonna keep on hating her guts.”

“I still don’t understand why he hated her at all,” Dustin said, adorably naive. 

Eddie smirked, uneasy.  “Meh, not important.”

“Seriously, they got along just fine whenever we fought the demodogs,” Dustin continued, oblivious.  “And at the snowball, but then after that he just – went at it with her all the time, even though they would both still hang out with us.  Like an old married couple.”

Nancy listened intently, trying to keep up and put the pieces together.  Because truly, she herself had been wondering what changed.  But she had been so focused on her life, in her own world with Jonathan and their jobs, she really hadn’t paid much attention to the fact that you and Steve had gotten along at the start, then not at all, and now…well…

Robin puffed out a breath of air.  “Maybe they’ve just…gotten closer.  You know, found a way to get along.  Murray’s an ass, and even though she’s not and I love her, Steve’s not exactly the easiest to get along with even though I love him —”

Dustin scoffed.  “Robin.  He kissed her.”

Eddie clicked his tongue, trying to think of Metallica lyrics and avoid looking in Nancy or Jonathan’s direction.

Robin stared.  “What?”

“When?”  Nancy’s voice startled the room, and Jonathan seemed to cringe at it.

“Dustin,” Jonathan sighed.

“Today,” Dustin kept talking.  “Whenever we…brought her back.  He — he kissed her.  He literally bawled on top of her and wouldn’t let her go.” 

Dustin’s eyes lost all of the annoyance, now looking sad as he thought back on it all.  Robin stared at him along with Nancy, barely breathing.  Even Eddie looked over at him. 

“I’ve never…I’ve never seen him that upset,” Dustin murmured.  “Steve’s never sad.  Not like that.  I’ve never even seen him cry.  Not once.  Robin, did he ever cry while you both got tortured in the Russian chambers?”

Robin thinks back on that, gnawing at her lip, deep in thought.  She shook her head, realizing… “No.  No, he didn’t.  Just – panicked, but not…he didn’t cry.”

“Exactly,” Dustin says.  “Because he’s awesome.  He’s brave, and cool, and awesome.  Steve doesn’t cry.  Today?  He bawled.”

“Seeing someone die in front of you does that, man,” Eddie pointed out, melancholy.  “I know I did whenever Chrissy died… You cried today.  I did.  Byers did.”

“Not like that,” Dustin insisted, voice firm.  It made everyone go quiet again.  “Not like that,” he repeated.  “That’s how I would have cried if…like, if Suzy died.  Or how Lucas did when Max died before we got her back.  How Hopper and Joyce would.  How Jonathan and Nancy would.”

That made the present couple go stiff.  But Jonathan nodded, eyes boring a hole into his coffee mug.  “S’true,” he mumbled.  “If that were you, I would.”

Nancy looked at him, eyes guilty.  Of course, it was the same for her.  But she couldn’t focus on that right now.  Not now that her collective thoughts and observations were confirmed.  Now that she knew for sure…

“It’s not a matter of if they’re into each other,” Dustin kept going, certain.  “It’s a matter of when.  When did it start and how were we blind?”

But no one could answer that.  Robin couldn’t, and she was shocked that she couldn’t.  She knew her best friend all too well.  How had she not seen this coming?  How could she not have sensed that his never ending hatred towards you was slowly developing into liking you?  Maybe even loving you…?

Eddie had only started sensing it that day.  Until then, he had been the one to encourage Steve to go after Nancy.  To get her back, win her over.  But that stopped whenever Jonathan came back into the picture, of course.  He knew better than to cross that line.  Still, he knew that Harrington loved her and pined for her.  He also knew why Harrington couldn’t stand you, along with Robin.  They adored you, hoping at some point that you both could just become friends who tolerated each other.  Eddie never thought it would become more than that: a civilized friendship.

And Nancy felt something heavy sit on top of her chest that she really could not seem to accept yet: the truth.  She lost Steve.

“Alright, guessing game is over.” 

Murray’s voice rounding the corner made everyone jump, and he eyed down everyone at the table as he walked in with his empty soup bowl.  He made for the sink, turning on the faucet with his eyes still glued to the five people seated at the dining table, who stared back awkwardly.  Finally, he looked down as he washed his dish.

“Take it from the witchdoctor of love: those two had it coming.”

Eddie cocked an eyebrow, completely amused. 

Jonathan, however, was not.  This was so karma.

“...had what coming?” Dustin asked. 

Robin shot him a look — bless his little naive heart.

“Psh, c’monnnn,” Murray said, rinsing the bowl.   “The sexual tension.  The incessant arguing.  Harrington’s personal utmost disdain towards her.”

Nancy spoke up, unable to help herself.  “But…why though?  She didn’t do anything wrong.  Why would he have disdain towards her…?”

Jonathan hated how irritated Nancy’s question made him feel towards her.  It irked him deeply, but he just let it fester quietly as he sat there staring down at his cup of black coffee and having no choice but to listen.

Murray looked at Nancy with the most condescending expression, uncensored as fuck.  “Honey…really?” 

Off Nancy’s clueless expression, Murray rolled his eyes in the back of his skull as he slapped the faucet off before whirling to face them.

“Once upon a time, two years ago: you and Jonathan came over to my bunker — uninvited — waltzing your way into my business, along with my niece’s.  Thankfully, to our benefit, you helped us crack the case and — not so much to our benefit — onboarded us into your mess.  But rewinding back a few slides, you two stayed over because of the vodka coursing through all of our veins and tried to convince the two of us — AKA yourselves — that you two were just friends.  Which was the biggest load of unbelievable bullshit you both could have told me, and that’s after you told me everything pertaining to the absurdity and pure insanity regarding the upside down.  But really, it was a great belly laugh for me and my niece, so thank you.  Thennnn, my niece offered to let you both take her bed — not buying a lick of it, and suggesting you both stop being in denial.  On top of that, as a former student at Hawkins High, she knew King Steve very well.  She knew how Wheeler and Harrington both started dating, and how much closer the two of you —”  (he gestured between Jonathan and Nancy) “— had gotten since Will Byers went missing then got rescued.  Because my niece isn’t stupid.  She could’ve been class valedictorian if she’d wanted to, but — being like her cynical uncle — she didn’t wanna.  She’s a street-smart annnnnd booksmart cookie.  She knew you both were bound to let the trauma bond get you both together, and that genuine love had formed between the two of you way more than it had between her and Steve.  So she called it out, after being fed a bunch of coo-coo-bananas nonsense from you guys in my casa about being 'platonic.' " 

Eddie's jaw was practically touching the table. This was literally the best story he's ever heard, and it had just freaking started.

Robin felt like she was watching a movie in her mind, one in which her best friend was the main character and she was rooting for him like life depended on it.

"Fast forward to the lab, El’s grand return, Will’s exorcism, the demodogs, the Snowball, and our little house party that followed —” (he pointed at Dustin) “— you forgot that part — turns out, Jonathan Byers can’t take his liquor, so what does he do?  He goes over to my niece, who’s standing in the kitchen — like so,” (he gestured to himself) “ — and starts profusely thanking her in a string of loud, slurred, drunken words, about how he was chosen one, and how he got the girl, alllllll thaaaaannnksss toooo myyyyyy niiiieeeeeccccce."

Nancy's blood ran cold. What? 

"And because it was such a small house, no offense Henderson, unlike Casa Harrington — the king himself heard it all.  Every lick of it.  So of course, who’s he gonna hate with a fiery burning passion more than he ever could hate Jonathan Byers for stealing his girl?  The person who told him to do it.  Myyyyyy niece.  Because he can’t hate Nancy Wheeler, never-ever-ever could he hate the girl he swore was the love of his life.  And he couldn’t even hate Jonathan, because what had he done except be the victim of King Steve’s incessant bullying and his horrible posse of friends in high school while his brother was missing in another dimension?  But Steve had to hate someone.  To loathe someone, blame someone, more than himself.  So he chose her.  He chose my niece — and by extension me, but mainly her.  Because she was a part of the gang now, and around way more than I ever have been around you kids.  Which is to be expected.  So blah-blah-blah, hate-hate-hate, fight-fight-fight — soooo muchhhh traaaauma.” 

Murray paused for dramatic effect, soaking in everybody's faces, then continued. 

“...and what happens when there is trauma?... bonding.  Trauma bonding.  Forced alliance.  The need to put aside your differences, so that you all can just get along and survive.  And that leads to talking…which leads to more fighting…eventually, tears.  Lots of ugly words that can’t be taken back.  And then…suddenly…”  Murray snaps his fingers.  “Common ground.”

No one has made a sound, hanging onto Murray’s every word.

“Vecna ends the world.  At least, Hawkins.  We all somehow manage to survive it.  We all need somewhere to goooo…and we wind up here.  In a house, all underneath the same roof.  Forced to coexist.  Therefore, newfound respect and understanding is acquired when in close quarters.  Just as the two of you, Ms. Wheeler and Mr. Byers, found in my bunker.  Steve and my niece found themselves forced to live with one another, the space between them closing in.  Gap by gap, inch by inch…until…”

Murray made a gesture that looked like that of a magician, everyone’s eyes following.  “Magic.”  He walks closer, slowly.  “Some small talk becomes bigger talk.  Some childhood trauma that decorates the walls of Harrington’s house becomes the topic of conversation.  My niece just so happens to be a really good listener, and Steve happens to be in need of one.  They both discover they’re the only child in both their families.  His parents are absent.  Hers were barely ever present, before surrendering her to both mine and my mother’s care.  But she doesn’t mention that yet, no — why?  Because she’s listening.  Relating.  Understanding.  Meanwhile, Steve feels heard.  Seen.  Relevant.  Important.  Like maybe whatever he has to say matters.  Fast forward some more, blah-blah-blah…some more co-parenting later…which honestly, is the only reason those two maintained some sort of peace in the first place — aside from the inevitable perils that we all have had to face and be paid to keep our mouths shut about…”

Murray points to Dustin, who stares at him — agape. 

“You kids are the damn glue holding those two doomed enemies-soon-to-be-lovers together.  Not that you knew that.  You’re kids, and you don’t know that shit yet.  Which is good.  And they love that.  Steve might hate her, but he’s not gonna make you kids hate her.  And she finds him infuriating, but she isn’t gonna let you all know that by persuading you to feel the same.  Because he loves you rugrats, and you all love him…and you rugrats love her, as she loves you.  Fast forward to a night when all the kiddos are fast asleep, and the adults get a night to themselves with some cups of chilled vodka that fuels everyone’s laughter and newfound liquid courage — but just enough to give a light buzz, rather than sloshed drunkenness — the enemies, who’ve now become somewhat of friends…realize that they feel more.  Or at least, that’s what I observed.  Grilled my niece about it, that night before bed — and next thing you know — she is the victim of Uncle Murray’s love-talk lectures.  Just like you two were.  She’s swearing up and down that she cannot stand Steve, and that he cannot stand her.  She insists they are mortal enemies.  That he hates her.  Will forever hate her.  And then…that rambling turns into truth.  Admittance.  Denial, still.  But it’s enough to go off, allowing me to paint the picture and speak the truth into the world out loud: WE DO LOVE STEVE.”

Nancy freezes at that, eyes wide and heart blue.  She swallows thickly, and Jonathan feels sick.

Murray's conductor waving hands settled down, ready for the grand finish.

“...someone had to love Steve.  But it wasn’t you, Ms. Nancy Wheeler.  Not forever, anyway.  Not in the desperate, novel-esque ways we all read about or see in the cinemas.  But it was her.  You liked Steve, so that she could love Steve.  And he loved you, so that he could hate her…only to realize that he loved her. Deeply...madly...and truly.”

Murray leaned back, letting his rant come to a full stop.  The air was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.  Mouths agape, brains fried and heartbeats racing.  They were stunned into shocked silence.  With a sigh, Murray made for the fridge.

“Do me a favor…”  He grabbed some juice, along with the vodka, pouring himself a cup.  Then, with a severe look in his eye, he faced the group again. 

“Don’t make a damn fuss about it yet, yeah?  Not yet.  Not to them.  Wanna do it with each other, go ahead.  But maybe lay off them for a bit, will you? Hmm?”

Everyone was surprised at the uncharacteristic parental tone in Murray’s voice and the look in his eyes.  They felt parented now.

“Maybe let the shock of this newfound realization they both just came to accept barely before my niece stopped breathing today…I dunno…simmer down a bit, yeah?”

Dustin gulped, nodding.  Robin did, too.  Eddie had pretty much bitten his nails down to stubs at this point, and Jonathan had shrunk so far down into his chair he was practically on the floor now.  Meanwhile, Nancy looked like a heartbroken child who’d just been told that Santa Claus wasn’t real.  With that, Murray raised his glass of jungle juice and exited the kitchen — vanishing, leaving the group to sit there in their own unsettled energy.

So when Lucas, Erica and Steve all shuffled back down the stairs, it alarmed them.  Robin stared at Steve and the kids, while Eddie rose to stand and grab the box of crackers from Dustin.  Jonathan swigged his coffee.  Nancy just stared at Steve helplessly.

“Alright, who needs more food before we all turn in for the night?” Steve asked as he moved to put away the sandwich fixings with Erica.

Nobody spoke, making Lucas look at them with a quizzical expression.  Erica did the same, stopping as she went to put the sleeve of bologna back into the snack pan.  Steve had been busy picking up discarded bowls and plates before he finally looked at everyone, too.  He cocked an eyebrow, confused.

“You, uhhh…you guys okay…?”

Robin tried to speak, choking on air.  Steve squinted at his best friend.  Finally, she found her voice.  “Sorry.  Got the jitters.  Too much coffee.”

She stood up hastily, collecting everyone else’s cups — even Jonathan’s, who was mid-sip.  Robin avoided Steve’s gaze as she dumped them into the sink with a very fake, wide toothy-grin.  She hummed while rinsing the cups, and Eddie clapped his hands together when rising to stand himself. 

“Better, uhh, go re-dress my, uhh — dressings.”

“I got you,” Robin said, splashing the hot water and dropping the sponge so that she could hurriedly dry off her hands and follow Eddie out of the room – giving Steve a quick kiss on the head.  He watched her go, curious. 

But then he saw Jonathan and Nancy sitting over at the table still, along with Dustin — who was staring back at him sheepishly.  The curly-haired kid stood up, clearing his throat and shuffling over with the now very-empty box of crackers.  He whistled while tossing it into the garbage and moved to finish the dishes.  That definitely made Steve raise an eyebrow.  But he figured it was out of pity, so instead he just gave the kid a pat on the back and ruffled his hair before going back to tidying up the kitchen.

Nancy felt queasy.  Really queasy.  And looking at Steve was not helping, especially being seated next to Jonathan.  She rose to stand, making him look at her back with queasiness of his own.  He watched the back of his girlfriend as she started to turn to look back at him…and when she couldn’t, it made his heart sink.  She walked towards the living room, disappearing behind the wall.  But not before passing by Joyce, who made her way into the kitchen to give Steve a motherly touch on the arm.

“Dr. Owens will be here first thing in the morning,” she told him, reassuringly.  “Real early.  Probably 6AM.  Hopper’s letting Murray know.”

Nancy refused to let herself cry that night about Steve Harrington and her newly unrequited love.

Jonathan watched his mom comfort Steve, and while it made him grateful it also made him sad.  Steve sighed with relief as he thanked Mrs. Byers, and when his mother began to help him find some temporary pain medication that Dr. Owen’s instructed her to give you, he decided he couldn’t listen anymore and left.

“You don’t think there’s anything wrong with her, do you?” Dustin asked.  “You know, heart-wise or anything…?”

“She’s gonna be fine,” Joyce told him sweetly, rubbing Steve’s back as he leaned against the kitchen counter with a tense back.  “Her heart, her shoulder, her mind.  Everything.”

Steve took deep breaths, and Erica would have hugged him if she weren’t so profusely against giving anyone any sort of physical affection. 

Lucas, however, did move to squeeze Steve’s shoulder next to Joyce.  After all the comfort he’d gotten from him after Max died, then got brought back…and still received, with her being in a coma…Lucas understood Steve’s pain. 

No one knew it, but Lucas had secretly caught onto Steve’s feelings for you whenever he went to visit Max in her room one morning but heard you both sitting in there.  Selfishly, he’d stayed behind the cracked door to listen in…and it made him freeze in place.  They way you and Steve bonded, despite all the rivalry between you both.  The way you both spoke to one another in Max’s presence, like she was keeping the storm at bay despite being asleep.  Lucas felt as though he was listening to a conversation taking place between two fighting parents, who were finally finding common ground.  He had secretly listened like a little kid, leaning against the wall, giddy and heartbroken at the same time.  Lucas wasn’t sure why, but he knew.  He just knew.  You two were crazy for one another.  Maybe because he and Max had their struggles, too.  Maybe something about the way Steve pushed you, and you pushed Steve — maybe it reminded him of them, just as older teens.  Steve was his hero, and you were Max’s.  He would give anything to talk with her about it, to hear whatever she had to say about the two of you…the unlikely duo…

But he didn’t say anything about it.  He felt it best not to push anything.  Not yet.  When Max woke up, he would.  But maybe now, he wouldn’t have to.  Because Steve had been faced with the possibility of losing you.  And if he was gonna mess that up, then that's preposterous.  Then Lucas would say something.

***

That night, Steve crawled back upstairs and ran into Robin coming out of his bedroom, having just discarded Eddie’s only wound dressings in the hallway bathroom and changing into her pajamas.  She was staying in Steve’s room, per usual.  And she wondered if she might have just caught him coming upstairs to sneak into your room and not his.  At this rate, nothing was a surprise anymore.  Thanks, Murray.

“Hey, dingus,” she grinned.  Steve grinned back. 

“You gonna finally get some sleep?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she nodded, gesturing to the blankets in her hands.  “Was just gonna go give Eds some fresh blankets.”

“Lemme know if you need help with that, seriously.  His wounds, I mean.  I’ll have Dr. Owens check on him tomorrow too, whenever he comes to check on Bauman.”

Robin nodded, biting her lip.  God, she wanted to ask him so many questions.  Hug him.  Tell her best friend to spill the damn beans.  Demand him to cry, to break down in front of her.  To scream.  To laugh.  Anything.

“Robs, you good?”

“Steve, I love you,” Robin blurted.  “Like – love you to death.  Best friends forever.  Just — just…”  She bit her lip some more, trying really hard to think before she speaks.  Steve waited patiently, a bit nervous.  Robin sighed.  “Just know that…I’m here.  And I’m always gonna be here.  Supporting you, with…whatever you need.  Even if that’s to shut up and just help you with something and not ask you any questions.  Alright…?”

Steve’s eyes sparkled, and he stitched up the distance between them to give her the tightest of hugs.  His best friend of a soulmate.  Platonic with a capital P.  Robin hugged him back fiercely, dropping the blankets.  She sagged with relief.  Thank God.

“Don’t wait up for me,” Steve mumbled into her hair.

“Cool.”

“Bed’s all yours.  Spread out.  Starfish.  Steal all the covers.”

Robin snorted into Steve’s shoulder, squeezing him tighter.  “Okay.  Cool, yay.”

Steve chuckled too, squeezing her to death.  He really did have the best friend in the world.  They swayed a bit like that for a moment, content and comforted in each others’ embrace.  Then finally, Steve pulled back and Robin ruffled his hair.  He rolled his eyes, swatting at her lightly as she grinned wide.  Scooping down to pick up the blankets, he handed them back over to Robin.  She smirked.

“Is she a cover hog, too?” Robin teased.

“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t ask questions?”

Robin saluted, making her way towards the stairs.  “Sir, yes, sir.” 

Steve could finally breathe for the first time all day, aside from whenever you were safely in his arms.  Knowing that he had his best friend on his side without needing to have a full blown conversation about anything yet…that really helped lighten the load a bit.  He exhaled deeply, letting the relief seep into his bones as he made his way to his bedroom door.

***

Once inside, Steve felt his heart swell.  There you were, tucked in bed still, sleeping peacefully.  Steve walked over to crouch over and kiss your forehead, gently stroking your hair.  He noticed you seemed to still be in the same position.  Almost like you hadn’t moved at all.  He looked at the clock.  It’s…been hours.  Several hours.  At least 4.  He looked back down at you, seeing how still you were in the dark. 

His heart stopped.  Were you too still?

Steve placed a trembling hand underneath your nose, too shaky to be able to tell.  But when he felt nothing, he frantically grabbed your wrist — yanking it off your chest to feel for a pulse —

You moved, stirring awake and looking at him groggily.  Steve just about collapsed, clutching your hand and bringing it to his lips as he sunk down onto his knees.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand and another to your palm.

You groaned lightly, moving to turn towards Steve and yawning.  He melted. 

“How long have I been out…” you asked him sleepily. 

“Hours,” he told you.  “Which is good.  You need sleep.”

You sighed, eyes fluttering tiredly.  “M’hungry.”

That made Steve grin ear to ear.  “I can fix that.  Want me to bring it up here?” 

A grin slowly made its way onto your face too, and you nodded gratefully.  Steve squeezed your hand, leaning forward to peck your forehead and your nose and your lips before promising you he would return. 

When he did, he came back with the bowl of hot soup that your uncle had kept warm for you along with water and some pain medication.  You were sitting up now, leaning against Steve’s chest as he sat with his legs caging you in and leaned up against the headboard.  You had just taken the medication a few minutes earlier, now sipping on the hot soup and a tall glass of water that Steve held onto for you.

The little bedside table lamp cast a soft glow in the Harrington’s upstairs guest bedroom, and the sound of light rain outside of the window filled the room along with the plink of your spoon against the soup bowl.  Steve felt grounded as he kept his arms around your waist, circled around you as he held you close.  His chin sat on top of your head, and the scent of his lavender shampoo in your hair filled his senses with peace. 

“What’s your favorite color?”

Steve’s question surprised you as you slurped another spoonful of soup, but you swallowed and felt the corner of your lip twerk up into a little smile.

“Yellow.”

Steve felt himself smile at that, squeezing you a little tighter.  “Guess this shirt was a good choice, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m glad you bought two.  Rich kid perks ain’t so bad.”

There was lightheartedness to your tone that Steve found himself adoring.  Craving, and yearning to hear more of – should time be on all of your side, in this godforsaken town. 

“I wonder if Vecna’s rockin’ my other one down there.”

“Nah, the dogs are.”

Steve snorted, giving your hips a little squeeze and pressing a kiss to your temple.  You sighed against him, sinking back and placing the bowl of soup onto your lap.

“What’s yours?” you asked him curiously, watching the shadow of the raindrops on the ceiling as they slid down the window. 

“Blue.  Sky blue.” 

You hummed, placing one of your hands that sat on your stomach onto his and interlacing yours fingers.  “Like a pretty, non-upside-down clear blue sky?”

“Schyeah, that.”  Steve rested his chin back on top of your head as he glanced out the window, the black sky and rainfall sending a shiver down his spine.  He wondered if the world would ever feel normal again…

Steve decided to ask you more normal questions, wanting to pretend that none of the dystopian reality just outside his house was real — just for one night.  He asked you what your favorite movie was, shocked to find that you loved romcom’s.  Especially Endless Love, Pretty in Pink and Working Girl.  He wasn’t sure why he thought you’d say dark movies, or maybe sci-fi hits.  Maybe Steve didn’t know what he expected you to say.  But regardless, your answers fascinated him.  He loved learning why you thought Sigourney Weaver’s character was misunderstood in Working Girl, which led to you both discussing women in the work force and how they should receive higher pay – equal to the men.  Steve agreed with you, liking how passionate you were about it yet graceful and humble at the same time.  You were smart, but somehow underestimated.  It was strange.  You were strange.  Turns out, he loved ‘strange.’

And it also turns out, Steve liked not only action flicks — but dramas, too.  Footloose and Baby Boom were on his list of guilty pleasure movies.

“Baby Boom??” you asked incredulously.  But you weren’t mocking him, rather genuinely intrigued and amused.

“Hey, it’s adorable,” Steve defends himself with a fake scoff.  “She adopts a damn baby and raises her as her own.  Be nice.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, tilting your head back to look at him.  “God…no wonder you love those kids so much.  You’re a natural born mother.”

“Okay but seriously, since when did I become mom and not dad?”

“Apparently, I’m dad.”

“Again: since when?” Steve's tone made you chuckle deeply.

You and Steve talked until your tongues were tired, eventually having moved to lean back onto the pillows.  He rested his head into his palm, propped up on an elbow and stroking up your side as you both enjoyed innocent pillow talk.  Softly spoken voices, hushed just enough to hear one another.  Real hearty laughter that you both muffled into your palms, or each others’ necks, so that you wouldn’t wake anyone.  Sweet confessions about food preferences, least favorite holidays, questioning religion while wanting to believe in a god.  How Steve thought that vodka was the kiss of death, while you found cigarettes to be disgusting.  Steve craved strawberry ice cream, while you were a sucker for plain old vanilla.  He loved diners, and you did too.  He swore pancakes over waffles, and you made it very clear that French toast was the clear winner.  It was a give and take conversation, and you both found it resulted in far more agreements than not.  It was the loveliest conversation that either of you’d had in years.  Maybe ever.  Not just with each other…but with anyone at all.

“So…six kids and a Winnebago, huh?”

Steve’s eyes danced in the moonlight, looking at you with pure adoration.  Shyly, he tucked your hair behind your ear, slowly nodding.  “Heard that, huh?”

You gave him a little smirk.  “It was a pretty small Winnebago.”

He shook his head fondly, then — “Yeah.  Turns out being an only child gets to you.”

You nodded sadly.  “Yeah.  It does.”

Steve hated that you knew that same loneliness.  But then again, was that what made you both see each other so clearly?  Is that why you knew his deeply rooted longing and misery better than anyone else?  Is that why maybe, just maybe…in telling Nancy to run off with Jonathan…you were protecting him?  He wondered these things as he looked into your angel eyes, not knowing how in the world he could have not looked at them like this before…especially right when he met you.

You told Steve how you’d always wanted a dog growing up, which led to his immediately confessing he wanted a lab or golden retriever.  You nodded eagerly.  Yes.  Those, or a border collie.  A dog that felt like a true family member.  Even a stray mutt who needed a home.  You both laughed at the funny names you both wanted to name them as kids.  Winston, Jeffery, Petunia, PeeWee, Pumpkin, Count Duku.  When Steve suggested pancakes as a name, you had to literally turn your head into the pillow to keep your laughter from roaring through the room and waking the household.  Even Steve felt like he’d pee himself from laughing so hard, watching you laugh so hard. 

God, you were beautiful.  You were so beautiful.

…when you smiled up at Steve, bashfully, he realized that he’d said it out loud.  “So are you,” you breathed.

Steve shook his head.  “I’m not, though.”

Your brow creased.  “Yes, you are.  You know you are…and if you don’t –”

“I don’t.”

“Well, you are,” you said simply.

Steve pressed his lips together, self-conscious.  How had he felt so damn confident all those years in high school, even middle school, but not now?  You reached up to push back some of his perfect hair, caressing his cheek. 

“I haven’t been,” he confessed, almost in a whisper.  “Not to you.  I’ve been ugly.  Really ugly.”

You looked into his guilty eyes, but Steve couldn’t find any anger or sadness in yours.  Just understanding and forgiveness.

“I was, too,” you admitted.

“No,” Steve shook his head, adamantly.  “Not like me.”

“Steve, I wrecked your life.  Well, your love life.  But still, I wrecked it.”

“No, you only wrecked it when you left it,” Steve confessed, bitter at the memory but not at you.

Never at you.  Never again.

“Telling me I deserve better, and I…told you that you deserved…nothing.”  He visibly winces at his own words.  “God, I’m so sorry —”

“Steve,” you stopped him softly, cupping his cheeks.  “Don’t.  I’ve forgiven it.  Really.  You didn’t know.  You were hurt.”

“Doesn’t make it right,” Steve whispered, looking at you with those beautiful doe eyes that shone in the moonlight.  “I actively made a point to stop hurting people, and I did it again anyway.  Worse.  Way worse than my stupid King Steve days.”

You shrugged, trying to make him smile again.  “King Steve was pretty amateur compared to the hard ass you became.”

Steve bit back a laugh, maybe even some tears.  Still, he let the joke land.  You crane your neck up to nuzzle his nose, making him sigh and return the eskimo kiss.  Then you hissed in pain, letting out a little groan.

“What's wrong?” he asked worriedly, brow pinched.

“Stupid shoulder,” you muttered.  “My ribs, too, damn…”

Steve looked down at your ribcage sadly, splaying his fingers there against your skin underneath his yellow crewneck.  He sighed.  “That’s because of me,” he confessed sadly.  “Pounding on you nonstop today with the compressions.”

“Well in that case, I’ll take it.  Pain’s good.”

You winked at him, and Steve tried to let that comfort him.  It did, for the most part.  Your oxygen intake really made it worth it, in the end.  He leaned down to press his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as you did the same. 

“I don’t know where we’re headed,” Steve whispered against you.  “Hawkins.  The country.  The world.”  He paused, breathing you in.  “Just know I want you there.  All the time.”

You smiled, eyes still closed, heart fluttering.  “Good.  You’re stuck with me, Harrington.  Bothering the ever-living shit outta you.”

“Bother me till I go insane,” Steve breathed, nuzzling his nose against you and grinning like an idiot.  He felt happy.  Absurdly happy.  Who thought that was possible?

“...Steve?”

He opened his eyes slightly, finding yours were already looking into his.  He waited, pulling back nervously.  Which is stupid, considering you’d just told him you felt the same way.  That you wanted to stay by his side, no matter what happens.  So why was he thinking that just changed within a 3-second timespan?  Why was he suddenly worried that you —

“I love you so much.”

19 years flashed before Steve’s eyes at that moment.  His childhood.  His pre-teens, and all the teen years that followed.  He thought back to every single I love you that had been spoken to him.  It hadn’t been many.  At least not many that meant anything to him.  He could count on one hand the amount of I love you’s that meant something to him over the course of 19 years.  But now, he could count on one finger the one that meant the very most to him.

“I love you so much, too,” Steve breathed, eyes glassy and mesmerized as they looked back into yours.  “God, you’ve no idea, I…”

Steve felt overwhelmed.  He scrunched his eyes shut, resting his forehead to yours again and caressing your cheeks.  He pecked your face, every inch of it, slowly.  Little kisses peppering your face.  “I love you so much.”

He could have bawled on the spot if he weren’t so completely entranced, swept up in the tidal wave of joy that splashed across his heart, mind, body and soul.  Steve could bawl about it later.  Right now, he simply leaned into your touch and vowed to never let you go.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

bless Murray and his impeccably uncensored madness. about time he set everyone straight, damn.

as alwaysssss, thank u for reading :) this series is so much fun. please comment, it always makes my day.

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[chxrrysangel]

Drinking Games

Pairing| Eddie Munson x reader

Warnings | friends to lovers, fluff, mentions of alcohol/drunkeness, love confessions, it’s really cute ok

Author’s note | this is the first thing I’ve published in like 5 months so…gentle please. Also this 100% came to me in a maladaptive daydream…lmao

Sitting around the circle, your body buzzed with excitement and the mixed drinks you had tonight. Robin sat not more than three feet away, acting as the self-appointed dealer. The game of the night had long been forgotten by name, but the rules were rather simple: answer the question or drink. One could hardly mess up something so simple but your friends were always eager to conquer the impossible.

Secrets and juicy tidbits were revealed throughout the night, each of your friends making the hard choices to spill their guts—not that you minded. Eventually, your turn game around again and Robin’s eyes glistened with intrigue. Anxiety lodged itself in your throat, fearful of what horror lies on the card in her hand. She always had this look when up to something, her lips curling up into a frighteningly devious smirk like she knew something you didn’t. She turned towards you, your name dripping off her tongue with a noticeable air of mischief.

“Would you consider the person across from you in the circle to be attractive?” Your heartbeat sounded noisily in your ears, a cold sweat finding its way onto your hot skin. You had no reason to question who was across from you, already knowing the answer.

Eddie.

Edward Munson, your friend—dare you say best friend— who stole your heart the second you met. The two of you became fast friends, quickly falling into an agreeable routine at school. Once graduated, you stayed just as close if not closer. The chemistry between you was undeniable, but you were always “just friends.” Even when you started a little too long at him from across the room or burned with jealousy when he flirted with people at the local bar, he was just your friend. And it killed you.

Tentatively, you lifted your gaze from off the rugged carpet towards the metalhead across from you. Eddie looked at you innocently, not wanting to push you to answer. He was so kind that it was unnerving, how could you not like him? For years, he carried this reputation of a mean rugged guy who’d pulverize anyone who made eye contact. But, he truly was the exact opposite. Eddie could hardly hurt a fly, actually running in the opposite directions of them. The next few seconds were spent deliberating over your response to the challenge.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to say it?

“Yes.” Eddie’s gaze locked with yours as you spoke, his expression nearly unreadable if it weren’t for the hint of surprise in his doe eyes. Robin was satisfied with your answer, choosing to move on to the next person.

At some point during the game, Steve tapped out, choosing to play dealer with Robin. Everything was going smoothly, almost too smoothly. You had opted for water about 20 mins ago, sobering up a little bit. When the circle moved onto Eddie again, Steve picked up a card this time. The ex-jock couldn’t even pretend to hide his smile at the words, excitement clear on his features.

“Eddie, is there any person in this circle that you’d consider kissing.”

You didn’t mean to do it, but the hopeful high schooler buried deep in you couldn’t help but look at him in this moment. His chocolate brown eyes flicked across each person in the circle before landing on you, locking eyes comfortably. His gaze held for just a few beats, almost unclockable to an outsider.

“Yes.” Just as quickly as his gaze landed on you, it moved back over to Steve for approval. The boy leaned in, some other plan brewing in his mind.

“Follow up question. Will you disclose who they are?”

Again Eddie's eyes met yours for a few seconds longer than normal, unwavering in his decision. In any other headspace, you'd be inclined to brush it off and make excuses. But in this moment, your usual instincts felt almost elementary.

“I don't think I have to.”

The rest of the game passed on normally, your mind just barely present enough to answer the questions or take a shot during your turn. Eddie barely spared another glance in your direction, at least that you noticed.

~~~~~

You said your goodbyes to everyone, planning your thankfully short walk back to your place. Safety keychain in hand, you snuggled into your coat and headed out. Between the crunching of your sneakers on the gravel walkway and the howling wind, you could hardly make out the sound of someone shouting a bit ways behind you. You would’ve ignored it altogether if it weren’t for the yelling getting louder, testifying that it wasn’t in your imagination.

A certain curly-haired metalhead made his way towards you, smile bright in the otherwise barely lit street. Even drunk out of his mind, Eddie was gorgeous -- something you almost hated about him. He didn't even try to be hot, he just was.

“Hey. Mind if I -um, walk with you? We live close together anyways.” Not trusting yourself to speak, you moved over on the sidewalk to allot space. The walk home was largely silent, much too in your own head to say much. Eddie made no attempt to stir conversation, which you were grateful for. His usually chatty self was nowhere to be found.

As soon as the sight of your apartment building came into view, you thanked heaven and earth for saving you from this anxiety. You could pretend the night didn’t happen and move on with your life.

“Hey, sweets I’ve uh got a question.” Eddie cleared his throat, which did very little to hide the nerves in his tone. Hesitant, you chewed on your lip for a moment. Eddie’s gaze flickered down to your mouth for a moment, before quickly shooting back up to your eyes.

“Shoot.” The metalhead averted his gaze, something rather atypical for such an extroverted guy. His voice got quiet as well, like he didn’t trust himself to speak. It was endearing.

“Did you mean what you said tonight? About…finding me attractive?” His voice was hopeful, at least that’s what’s it sounded like. But you had to have imagined that.

“Yeah… I did. I have eyes Eddie. We may be friends, but I know handsome when I see it Eds.” Your voice was hesitant, but more honest than you've ever been.

The barely audible comment of “yeah friends.” could be heard from his lips, like he was whispering it to himself. It dawned upon you that the two of you were crossing the line in this moment.

“Eddie, I also have a question.” You had to be brave in this moment, knowing you might never get another chance again for this kind of honesty. His head perked up, curls bouncing and falling into the mess you loved so much around his features. With his full attention, it was now your turn to be nervous.

“Did you mean what you said tonight?” Even in the dimness of the overhead streetlight, Eddie’s entire face burned red with embarrassment. He chuckled in disbelief, shifting his weight with each foot.

“Full disclosure, I was kind of hoping you forgot about that…I was so bold and I don’t know why. But uh yeah I did mean it.” His head dropped into his hands, filled with embarrassment and shame.

With the last few words, something shifted in that moment. Eddie was no longer your goofy, lovable best friend that you secretly pined over. He wasn’t the guy who Robin and Steve damn near had to kill somebody to get you to admit that you liked. He was just a guy, one who admitted not even 2 hours ago that he’d kiss you if given the chance. And he knew that.

With one brave step towards one another, you could feel the heat radiating off his body. Maybe it was the alcohol or just his proximity, but your head felt light.

“Eddie,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” His lips ghost over yours, brushing in a way that makes you feel pathetically needy.

“Can we make good on that wish?”

He hums in response, cradling your face in his hands as he gently presses his lips to yours. He doesn’t rush, savoring the taste of you as if he’d forget. You quickly find harmony in your movements, both hungry with desire but desperate to make the moment last as long as possible. He whimpers in your mouth, needing more than one could give on a public street.

It’s only when your lungs begin to burn with lack of oxygen that you break away. You make no move to back away, encased on his arms like two puzzle pieces fitting together.

“So…”

Your awkwardness breaks the silence, the two of you making eye contact before falling into a much needed laughter fit.

“We’re gonna have to talk about this tomorrow, for sure. Perhaps over breakfast?.” His beloved goofy smile is on display, the signature one you couldn’t make to say no to.

“Are you asking me out on a date Munson?”

“Not yet. But soon. Definitely soon.”

You say goodnight, making headway towards your apartment door before you’re suddenly pulled back. Sandalwood and vanilla engulf your senses, Eddie stopping you from going to sleep. Without warning, he places his hand on the side of your neck and kisses you once more. This one was rather short, but equally sweet.

“Just wanted one for the road.” He winks, bowing like an idiot before walking into the night towards his own place. You smile to yourself as you walk the building’s empty hallways—giddy, lovesick, and still a bit drunk.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

(Ignore the fact that this is a screenshot of this ask, lmao, I posted this before I was ready on accident (my app updated and I pressed post rather than safe as a draft because the buttons moved and I'm dumb like that, lol) and didn't have time right then to write what I wanted to for this so I just screen-shotted, then deleted the original post. It's fine, haha. It's here now.)

This reminded me of a fic I wrote a while ago! It's not big dick Steve and it's not mocking in a fun way (in the past, instead, people have been cruel about such a big dick), but... it's big dick Bucky who gets lightheaded when he gets a hard one with size queen Steve praising him and making him feel like no one else, so I just think it's something you might enjoy as well:

"Strangers Who Fit Together More Like Soulmates"

Now, though, YES, we can talk about big dick Steve who gets light-headed and thoughtless whenever he's hard:

If Bucky were feeling confessional, he would describe the way he feels like this--luxuriously pressing his chest up against Steve's broad back and gluing his hips to bubble butt--and, oh, boy, is it a lot of feeling. He can feel the slow, thick rush of his blood through his body, turning the heat up to a feverish, summer level--the kind of summer night that you spend sweating, lying back on your bed over top of your sheets. After all, it's that humid and sticky. So hot that you're thinking about how bad it would really be if some monster came up and snagged your uncovered ankle because... it can't fucking be as bad as this heat. He's fucking hot.

Sweating.

Bucky can feel that, too, his sweat pooling on his skin underneath his clothes. Steve has to be sweating, too. They're going to have to peel apart...eventually. But more pressingly than the heat and sweat and flush afflicting him, he can feel the strain and twinge in his wrist. His muscles ache as he grips and strokes, jacking Steve off while he pretends to be able to wash the dishes. And Bucky hasn't even been at this teasing torture for long!

You'd think after so many months of getting so, so intimately aquatinted with Steve's monster cock, that his body would be used to it. But his body isn't--it still doesn't know what's hit it because he's colliding, regularly, with a fucking semi-truck. Bucky doesn't stand a chance.

With another handful of fast, sloppy strokes that tease more than feel satisfying, Steve sways forward into the counter with a low, aching noise. It's like a tree threatening to fall, Bucky swears it. His big, big body and matching cock. Bucky could climb him like a tree if not for how unsteady Steve gets whenever he's turned on.

The way he twitches and weakens leaves Bucky's arm pinned between Steve's body and the counter, one of the sharp points of Steve's hips and the equally sharp edge of the countertop dig into Bucky. He doesn't care. He's ignoring that ache alongside the lactic acid building up in his muscles--that acid, too, stokes the flames inside him, he burns hot--Bucky murmurs, husky into Steve's ear, "biiiiig boy, yeah, that's it." He won't stop teasing him, no matter how much his arm complains or how stuck it gets.

Instead, Bucky switches tactics, he didn't start this ambush for nothing. So, he squeezes him with his whole hand. He can't touch all of him like this, but it doesn't matter. More than a handful. Regardless, it's more than enough for Steve to be gripped and grabbed based on how he jerks forward quickly, gasping low, under his breath with a barely there huff of, "Buck-!"

Bucky pays his breathy sound no mind, replacing it in the tension-thick air between them with his own words, "I fucking love feeling you swell up in my hand," Steve moans, dropping a thankfully plastic container with a clatter, "gimme it, baby," Bucky goads him, hyping him up, giving up the pretense of just an innocent reach-around-and-cop-a-feel to an all-out fuck-session. "Gimme it. I wanna feel it." Bucky squeezes his hand around his shaft under his sweatpants. Steve's gone from soft and sweet to solid and thick so fast that Bucky's fingers no longer meet around his dick. "One day," Bucky muses, stretching onto his tip-toes to whisper right in Steve's ear, letting his lips brush his skin just a little, just enough to make him shudder, "I'm gonna shove you in me when you're half hard and I'm just gonna sit on this fat cock," Bucky squeezes unforgivingly until Steve makes a stupid guh sound, punched-out, "feeling it get bigger in me."

Steve shivers again, this time more intense. Oh, yeah, he's getting weaker.

Bucky nips at the hot shell of his ear, already turning red. How he still has enough blood in his body to blush while his cock fills up so heavy and thick will remain a mystery to Bucky.

"How's that sound, huh?" He teases.

Steve just whimpers.

Bucky had to get on his tip-toes before, but he relaxes now because Steve is falling, slowly, uncontrollably slouching down the counter. He'll end up on the floor if Bucky keeps going, getting dizzy as his blood finally decides it all has to go where Bucky wants it... in this nice, fat dick.

There's no harm in speeding the process up, making him dizzy, "you're such a slut with this huge thing, getting it up so fast, so often."

"Buck!" Steve gasps again, his muscle-bound body pressed so harshly against the restricted pressure and friction of Bucky's hand in his pants that Bucky starts to feel sharp tingles in his fingers, pins and needles that somehow make the silky hard sensation of Steve's dick in his hand sweeter.

"I can't believe you. I can't believe how slutty you are," Bucky kisses the nape of his neck lushly, then he scrapes his teeth against the top bump of his spine when Steve lets his head hang, the rest of him wilting as his dick swells. "Do you know how eager you are? You'll fucking crumble to your knees for me any time, any day, all I gotta do is get that blood flowing south and you're a goner, babyy--"

Steve inhales so shakily it sounds like he's at the end of a really good cry.

Perfect.

Bucky uses his weakness, his going limp, to his advantage, curling his other hand around his cinched waist to pull him back--giving himself more room to work. That way his hand doesn't tingle so much as he works hard to stroke all the way up and all the way down that big fucking gun he's packing in his sweats. Armed and dangerous.

Steve, with this little (not so little) head talking louder than his big head, lets him move him. Mold him. Stroke him. Jerk him off. Faster. harder.

He slouches another inch. his hands have long since stopped trying to clean their dishes, instead, wet and sudsy, he's gripping the edges of the sink for dear life.

"Should I get you a fainting couch, big guy?" The more he talks, the wider Bucky's Cheshire smile stretches. He's sure he looks feral, how could he not? The weight of his dick in his hand, more and more of Steve's whole body weight pressing back against Bucky, leaning into his chest, letting him have it all. "'Cause we sure as shit need something to catch you when you fall every time I bend over and you see my ass? You fuckin' horndog."

Steve scrambles, suddenly, to touch him. His dish-water-soaked, red-hot hands the size of dinner plates wrap themselves around both of Bucky's forearms. Bucky feels the squeeze as he jerks him slower but harder, much less teasing and more pleasuring. Steve is unsteady. Bucky is all that's holding him up and he won't be able to for long, he's fucking heavy. When his cock twitches in his grip once, twice, leaving Bucky with a mouth full of drool, he starts taking his big guy toward the living room. Walking slow and carefully--pushing really. Pushing this fucking tank toward the nearest soft place for him to crash.

"I can't fucking believe you, big boy," Bucky's mouth runs as he goes, "where do you keep this thing?" As he says it, he goes alllll the way from the base to the tip. Bucky still can't believe how long and how thick he is. He feels like it's a fucking joke. When he first saw Steve naked, he couldn't pick his jaw up off the floor. He thought, o-fucking-kay, you're a show-er then? But as he got to touch and taste and explore, running wild. And it turns out Steve's actually a grower, and then Bucky couldn't only not close his mouth but he couldn't speak. He couldn't fit the whole thing in his mouth and stuffed down his throat either.

"How do you fit it in your pants?" The questions pour out as they get into the living room, Steve stumbling worse now, dizzier. He wouldn't be able to differentiate up from down if he tried, Bucky's pretty sure. The only up and down he knows is Bucky's fist fighting to stretch around his cock, Bucky's mouth gaping to suck him down, Bucky's asshole struggling to swallow him whole. Up and down, up and down, up and down--bouncing on that unreal cock. "How do you fit it in me? I can't believe you do, every time I look at it. Jesus Christ."

For such a big guy, his voice is so cute and small, mewling, whining, and pawing at him with clumsy hands, trying to get him to do more than talk and jerk him off. He wants faster. He wants more. Slut.

"It's good you go so dumb, baby," Bucky murmurs, taking his hands off him and throwing him onto their couch instead. Tiiiimber, Bucky snickers to himself, watching him bounce on the couch. The springs squeak and Steve whimpers, writhing with the unfair treatment. Why'd you stop?, those huge puppy dog eyes, rimmed red, threatening to spill tears, ask. "'Cause if you didn't get so dumb, you'd get some big ideas of doing the work, wouldn't you?"

Steve's too out of it to nod, but it doesn't matter. Bucky doesn't need his silly little input, all he needs is that cock, that gorgeous body, and the stupid expression on his face--eyelids heavy, mouth slack, cheeks hot.

Out. of. it.

"And we can't have that!" He bites, teasing as he climbs onto Steve's prone, sprawled form, straddling his tree-trunk thighs and unceremoniously shoving his sweats down just to watch that horse cock bounce up and slap his clenching tummy. Steve's chest heaves, a wail ripped out of him and causing him to almost double over. Bucky shoves him back, "if you're thinking, you're trying to finger me open and you're just too impatient with a dick like that."

Steve makes some garbled noise, it sounds like he's drowning.

Bucky chuckles, half-amusement, half-breath, throwing his head back with it. He's enjoying himself so fucking much, his hands working that cock and his hips grinding against Steve's solid thigh. "I gotta stretch myself open for you with a dick like what you got. I, I gotta drag it out," he pauses to moan, still grinding, "'cause I'd split at the seams with dick if I didn't get nice and loose for you."

Steve bucks underneath him, nearly throwing him off. It just makes Bucky chuckle more--more moan and breath in the sound. He's so sweet and dumb. Nothing matters to him like this, blissed out, and it's so easy to get him here that it's a wonder Bucky doesn't keep him like this all the time. Yeah, that sounds good, a living, breathing, fuck-machine.

There's no lube over here, though, so unfortunately, Bucky can't start getting sloppy and loose for his human dildo. He'll just have to do the next best thing and jack him off until he cums, then, once he's pumping buckets all over himself, Bucky can scoop it up and use it, along with all his eager, slippery pre-cum to slick himself up so Steve can fill him fuller. More dick. More cum.

It won't be hard to get Steve there--

"If only that brain was as big as that big dick, hm, sweetie? Then maybe you could actually get something done rather than just letting me lead you around by the cock."

Steve whines roughly.

--yeah. No sweat. Give Bucky a challenge, c'mon.

[strangersatellites]

somebody somewhere shared my fic I've got this burning desire to set you on fire recently and the kudos on it jumped so fast!! so I wrote part two as a treat!! thanks to whoever that was lmao

this can be read as a standalone or as a companion ficlet to the original fic linked above!

Steve’s students sit with rapt attention under the dimmed lights and Eddie’s theatrical storytelling. While Eddie sits in Steve’s desk chair, his arms gesticulate wildly with a flair like no other. Steve props against the arm of his chair and drags his hand softly up and down Eddie’s back while he lets himself fall into the memory. 

Last October

Corroded Coffin’s show at The Venue at Fourth and West is the biggest they’ve played yet.

Seven thousand people and Steve and Robin, as always, take their rightful place on the front and center barricade. 

Eddie’s on stage, adrenaline pumping and energy high as they play through their last song before the encore. 

From his vantage point he’s got a perfect view of Steve singing his heart out and dancing with Robin, wearing a smile so bright it puts the spotlights to shame. 

If Eddie’s heart wasn’t already pounding at the sight it would be as he holds out the last chord of the final song on their set. 

As the noise in the room swells with the crowd’s cheers and applause, the lights dim and Eddie sees the other three guys slip off stage.

Steeling himself with a deep breath, Eddie meets the stagehand to his left and switches his Warlock for an acoustic. 

Where he stood centerstage previously, there now sits a stool and a mic stand. He makes himself comfortable, sat far back with one foot anchored to the ground and the other braced on the stool’s cross-rod. 

A single spotlight beams down directly on him as he leans over to speak into his mic.

“Alright, alright. I’ve got one last song for you today and it’s pretty special. Now I’m saying this once and I don’t want to hear shit about it again, got it? I do not care if you do not like this song because it's not for any of you motherfuckers!” 

Laughter ripples through the crowd and a few people in the audience yell back. 

Eddie scans his eyes across the crowd and they land on his boy once more. He can only imagine his smile mirrors the one he sees on Steve’s face.

“Hey baby,” he starts and lets out a breathy laugh when Steve rolls his eyes and hides his face in his hands. “Don’t hide sunshine, I’ve got a song for you.” He snaps and waves at the security guards and waves them Steve’s way. “Come on up Stevie, you know the drill.”

Know the drill he does. While Steve hops the barricade and is led to the stage, Eddie addresses the crowd once more.

“Like I said, this song is not for any of you so I do not want to hear shit from any of you, okay?” He sets to loosening the strap on his guitar when Steve makes it to center stage with him.

Just out of earshot of the mic Steve props his hands on his hips and grins. Asks, “Okay, what’re we doing this time?”

Eddie smirks and holds his guitar out to his right and pats the front of the stool for Steve to sit.

Steve snorts as he makes his way over. “If you think my ass is going to fit there you’ve got another thing coming.”

Eddie barks out a laugh and shifts further onto his stool as Steve sits, his back pressed tight to Eddie’s chest. He smacks a kiss to Steve’s cheek and waggles his eyebrows.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time!”

He swings his guitar back over his own shoulder and across Steve’s chest, hooks his chin over his shoulder and adjusts his grip.

Steve giggles down at the action and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

“How many times did you make Gareth practice this with you?” He laughs.

“Too fucking many!” Gareth yells from his place in the wings.

Eddie shushes them both and kicks his mic stand a little closer as he starts to strum. He leans in close to Steve’s ear and whispers “Love you Stevie,” before he starts humming into the mic.

Realistically he knows he has approximately seven seconds before Steve catches on. He savors the brief moments where Steve just smiles and sways along.

At second six the recognition flutters across his features and he snaps his head towards Eddie.

“Is this fucking Taylor Swift?”

Eddie laughs and says “Eddie’s Version.”.

Steve laughs and rubs a hand down his face. Eddie hears a muffled “Oh my god” just before he begins to sing. 

Hey Stephen, I know looks can be deceiving

But I know I saw a light in you

And as we walked we would talk

And I didn't say half the things I wanted to

Robin, god love her, Eddie sees has taken her role in this whole shenanigan very seriously. Having rounded up every photographer and videographer right up in front of center stage. Her own smile is barely contained where she covers her mouth with her hands.

Of all the guys tossing rocks at your window

I'll be the one waiting there even when it's cold

Hey Stephen, boy, you might have me believing

I don't always have to be alone

Just before he makes it to the chorus Steve’s laughter has calmed down and he’s left with a pleased smile as he sways to the music braced against Eddie’s chest. 

Cause I can't help it if you look like an angel

Can't help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain, so

Come feel this magic I've been feeling since I met you

Can't help it if there's no one else

Mmm, I can't help myself

He swings his guitar up and over Steve’s head and tugs him back onto the stool as he steps off. Steve looks at him with a confused smile but he doesn't go too far. He props a foot up on the cross-rod and leans in close when he starts again.

Hey Stephen, I've been holding back this feeling

So I've got some things to say to you 

I've seen it all, so I thought

But I never seen nobody shine the way you do

He spins around with a flourish and props on Steve’s other side and flutters his eyelashes to make Steve laugh again.

The way you walk, way you talk, way you say my name

It's beautiful, wonderful, don't you ever change

Hey Stephen, why are people always leaving?

I think you and I should stay the same

Before the second chorus he breaks out of his Steve induced trance and looks back to the crowd and laughs when he’s met with a sea of flashlight beams swaying back and forth. When he looks back at his boy he finds him giggling with a look of awe on his face.

'Cause I can't help it if you look like an angel

Can't help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain, so

Come feel this magic I've been feeling since I met you

Can't help it if there's no one else

Mmm, I can't help myself

He leans in close and says “Alright we’re gonna switch it up here Stevie, you ready?”

Steve smiles as bright as the sun. “For anything.”

Eddie takes his guitar off and hands it off to someone, he doesn’t know who to be honest. Doesn’t really care. 

Gareth and Jeff take up playing the song while Eddie takes the mic off its stand.

They're dimming the stage lights

You're perfect for me

Why aren't you here tonight?

I'm waiting alone now

So come on and come out

And pull me near

And shine, shine, shine

The boys keep playing as Eddie’s heart threatens to beat out of his chest. He looks at Steve one more time, sees him smiling and happy. 

He reaches a hand into his back pocket and feels the box he’d snuck in when he switched guitars.

Takes a deep breath and drops down to one knee.

If he could hear over the blood in his ears he’d hear the crowd go crazy and the incessant sound of camera shutters.

But as it is he swears he can hear Steve’s sharp intake of breath when he realizes what’s happening.

Hey Stephen, I could give you fifty reasons

Why I should be the one you choose

All those other girls, well, they're beautiful

But would they sing this song for you?

Steve’s got his hand covering his mouth and tears in his eyes and he’s nodding. He’s nodding even though Eddie hasn’t asked yet and he loves Steve so much.

I can't help it if you look like an angel

Can't help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain, so

Come feel this magic I've been feeling since I met you

Can't help it if there's no one else

Mmm, I can't help myself

He doesn’t even get to finish the rest of the lyrics because Steve is up and off the stool and has both hands pressed to his cheeks dragging him into a fierce kiss before he can even think. 

Eddie’s smiling and laughing so much that it's all teeth. But he’s so happy it's all teeth, it's all love, it's all Steve.

His arms are around Steve’s waist and the mic is somewhere, he doesn’t know or care.

“Stevie, baby. Baby I haven’t asked,” he laughs onto Steve’s lips.

Steve wraps his arms around his neck and buries his face in his shoulder.

“Yes. A hundred times yes. Don’t care. Yes!”

Eddie pulls Steve to face him with two hands on either side of his face, one still holding the box.

“Stevie, will you marry me?”

Steve's laugh resembles a sob but he’s smiling and nodding again and Eddie’s never been happier. 

“Yes.”

~~~~~

“You proposed with a Taylor Swift song?!” The curly-headed kid in the front row screeches.

Eddie uses his context clues to assume this is Dustin. 

Steve pipes up from his spot beside him. “He used to sing me that song when we were dating and it always made me laugh. I especially liked it when he would sing it in a Metallica shirt.”

Several of the other kids snort.

The door swings open in a flourish and Robin comes barreling in.

“Dude, are you holding your kids hostage? What’s goin– Oh hey Eds!” She waves.

“Hey Birdie.”

Steve looks at his watch and swears under his breath. “Alright guys, who’s going to Miss Buckley’s class next? Get out of here. I’ll sort the rest of you out.”

Eddie waves him off. “Don’t worry about it Stevie. I told Ms. Loretta in the office to let Nance and Jon know they’d be late to next period.”

Steve scoffs in shock. “Loretta likes you too much. I don’t know how you got in her good graces. Why would you do that though?”

“Well I thought your kiddos,” he gives the students a pointed glance,” would have figured me out by now and I wanted to bug them about their super cool, hot teacher.”

Steve claps his hands together in exasperation. “Okay, that’s enough. Everybody out!”

Students zip up their bags and filter out of the room and Robin knocks them on the back of the head as they walk out the door.

Steve shoves at Eddie’s shoulders. “You too! Go talk to Ms. Loretta, I have assignments to grade!”

Eddie laughs and ambles towards the door. He stops in the door frame and looks back at Steve who has his hands on his hips behind his desk. He wolf whistles and smiles back at him.

“See you at home big boy,” he winks. 

“Out!”

[magniloquent-raven]

so. yknow how water-based lube can get all tacky pretty quick but you can make it slick again with a lil spit

got me thinking about billy being. billy lmao.

like, him and steve are jerking off together as platonic bro pals because it's fine if they don't make eye contact and they're watching heterosexual porn okay, it doesnt matter that steve is more focused on the breathy little grunts directly to his left than the ecstatic wailing crackling through his tv's shitty speakers, or that billy has spread his knees far enough that their thighs are touching, or that his elbow keeps brushing steve's side and it's a shock to his system every time. it's. it's fine. him and tommy used to do this all the time. and it only got weird like...once or twice.

but anyways. steve's been using some low-quality watery lube he pocketed at a pharmacy because he couldn't bear to look the cashier in the eye and pay actual money for this, and billy side-eyed him when he pulled it out of his nightstand. "too good to use vaseline like the rest of us, king steve?" because of course he did, but it's fine, it's whatever, he likes the way it feels okay?

except it gets sticky so fast and he keeps having to reapply which. is annoying. but. but then.

he's reaching blindly for the bottle when billy grabs his wrist, grabs him, with the hand that was just on his dick. stops him from picking up the bottle with an annoyed huff, like steve's the one who's done something here. and steve's got his mouth open, words on the tip of his tongue, incredulous words, anxious words, caught in his throat with his laboured breath when billy turns towards him—all flushed cheeks and dark eyes, sweat gleaming on his chest, his pants undone and, oh god steve shouldnt have looked—

and billy. spits. on his dick.

his fingers are a vice around steve's wrist, their knees brush, eyes locked, and the girl on screen moans, long and loud, as billy's saliva dribbles down the flushed, sensitive skin of steve's cock.

"try it now," billy says, unmoving, not looking away.

and steve. pauses. slowly, hesitantly, wraps a hand around himself. and.

he gives an experimental stroke, keenly aware of billy's eyes burning into him.

oh.

huh.

that's...

he keeps going, spurred on by the way billy's grip on his arm tightens, by the coiled heat in his gut, by the tingle at the base of his spine and the knowledge of what exactly he's feeling, wet and slick against his palm. his head falls back, eyes closed, he's closer than he should be, not a single coherent thought in his head beyond a burning need and the image of billy's tongue running slowly along his bottom lip.

he finishes, making a mess of his stomach with a pitiful little sound caught in his chest.

billy hasn't moved a muscle. and steve. steve thinks maybe they should make things weird more often.

tag list ppl i swear imma post something other than porny rambling soon (probably) lmfaofjfjdk @spreckle @growup-thatbeautiful @prettyboy-like-you @suddenlyinlove 💕

[usedtobecooler]

like a secret in your throat | eddie munson x steve harrington

Pairing | Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), thigh riding, kas!eddie, vampire!eddie, feeding, mentions of blood, bloody play, spitting, fumbly boys doing dumb shit.

Word Count | 1.1k

A/N | i mean we all saw this coming i’m a steddie whore lmao, i hope i did them justice!! this drabble is loosely based on this gorgeous work of art by @vivalski 🖤

“And you’re sure you’re good with this, Harrington?” Eddie asks again, just to be sure, hand wrapped around the side of Steve’s neck, fingertips in the hair at the nape to tug it to the side and backwards, exposing the vast expanse of his jugular. Eddie’s mouth goes dry, his fangs ache, he can hear Steve’s blood pumping under his skin, can almost see it with his new, sharpened eyesight.

“Just get on with it, Munson. Try not to drain me dry though, yeah?” Steve’s bitchy, huffing and puffing — he needs for Eddie to speed up before he loses his nerve. The feeling of Eddie’s cold hands all over him make him shiver, goosebumps appearing and littering his arms. Steve knew this was a dangerous game to play, Eddie had only ever fed from Hopper before, when there was a short supply of blood at the hospital. Hopper was an assertive man, bigger than Eddie even though he was stronger now, in his new form, but Hopper could still shove him off.

Eddie leans in a little closer, opening his mouth to bare his fangs. Steve doesn’t see, but he can feel it when the sharp tips scrape along the stubbly underside of his jaw, can feel Eddie sniffing at him, inhaling his scent.

He smelled good, Eddie thought. Like ripe peaches, a summers breeze, the ocean air. Under it, a typical boy-like musk, but still, he was good enough to eat. Literally.

Steve huffs again, annoyance starting to creep under his skin at how long Eddie was insisting on drawing this out for, “Are you fucking doing this or — oh,” His hands come out in a blind panic to grip at Eddie’s bony hips as the vampire sinks his teeth deep into the connection where his neck meets his collarbone.

“O-oh fuck,” Steve scrambles a little, still talking shit even though he’s got a vampire sucking and licking at his skin, draining him of his blood. His hips buck up into Eddie’s a little, the cool venom dripping from Eddie's fangs and settling deep into his veins sending jolts of electricity all through his body.

"Is this - shit, is this supposed to happen?" Steve's words come out fast, high-pitched, stressed - arousal washing over him in heavy waves. Eddie's ignoring him, groaning into his skin as he feeds, one hand deep in Steve's hair and another squeezing his waist achingly tight, pushing him even flusher up against the wall.

No, this didn't usually happen, if it did he's pretty sure Hopper would never of agreed to letting Eddie feed from him. Eddie didn't know what was going on, couldn't find it in himself to care with how sweet Steve's blood tasted as it filled his mouth, dripped down his throat, sating his hunger and desire.

Steve's cock is ridiculously hard in his pants, adrenaline rushing through him like he'd never felt before. His head thuds against the wall, legs starting to turn to jello as Eddie continues his feed, hands roaming up Steve's shirt to feel at his toned body. Every touch feels like it's setting his skin on fire, burning up and leaving behind a prickly heat.

It’s homoerotic in a way Steve never expected — the way their hands caress each other, Eddie slotting a leg in between Steve’s own so that he has something to bear down on. Steve’s thankful for it, the little bit of relief that Eddie’s tense thigh gives him.

Eddie groans into Steve’s skin, overcome by the scent and taste of him — he’s just so sweet, like nothing he’d ever tasted before. Eddie didn’t know what to expect when he decided to feed from Steve, but it wasn’t this. The carnal desire overcoming him, not just to sate his hunger, but to make Steve feel good whilst he did it.

He feeds until he’s stuffed, head dizzy with Steve’s blood and the gorgeous moans he’s eliciting from the larger man’s mouth. It’s intoxicating, all of it, clouding his senses and driving him mad. Steve won't let up his grinding on Eddie's thigh, whimpering at the feeling of their layers of denim rubbing his cock deliciously.

Eddie’s fangs retract eventually, leaving Steve’s open wounds gaping. Eddie pulls back a little, spitting on the holes and lapping it up, knowing the venom in his saliva will help heal them fast. Steve cries out, the unexpectedness taking him by surprise and a hand fists in Eddie’s hair to keep him in place.

“It’s enough, Steve, I’m full.” Eddie’s voice is deep, gravelly as he speaks, tongue lapping at Steve’s salty skin — all Steve can do is grind against Eddie’s flexed thigh like a bitch in heat, hand grappling in Eddie’s hair and tugging.

“No, no, do it again, please.” Steve’s begging, pushing Eddie’s head back towards his neck in a desperate attempt to feel his fangs once more, breath shaky and eyes wild.

Eddie groans against Steve’s skin, inhaling once more and running his nose up Steve’s neck a bit higher before he’s opening his mouth, baring his teeth and sinking in again.

Steve sighs, whimpering as he rubs himself against Eddie even harder, cock leaking in his pants and leaving a damp patch in it’s wake, “F-feels so good, god, I’m cumming,”

Eddie digs his bitten nails into Steve’s hips and hauls him onto his thigh like it’s nothing, pushing their bodies tightly together as Steve shakes and shudders through his orgasm, unable to think about anything other than Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Fangs retract once more as Eddie helps Steve through the last of his high, his cold lips kissing gently at Steve’s sweat slick skin. His head clears, the taste of Steve still heavy on his tongue, and an aching desire in the pit of his belly.

Steve’s body weight gives out on top of Eddie and he grapples at the larger man to keep him upright, “Hey, hey. You good?” Eddie sounds genuinely concerned, unable to decipher if he’d gone too far and really had tried to drain Steve dry.

“Mmph,” Steve grunts, forehead thumping onto Eddie’s shoulder, “we’re doing this again, I’ve never jizzed so hard in my damn life.”

Eddie barks out a startled laugh, arm wrapping around Steve’s back and tugging at the material of his shirt, “Whatever you want, big boy. Let’s drag your ass to bed before you pass out on this damn floor.”

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

So…forgive me if you’ve done something like this before but Steve/Nat/Bucky have been living rent free in my head for a while now and I thought…what if Nat was just having a really lousy time and Steve and Bucky just cooked her an authentic Russian meal to cheer her up but they can’t cook. So they keep practicing and tasting until they get it right…putting on weight as they go because…decadent cuisine, amirite? She notices her little pelmeni getting bigger but she doesn’t mind. She keeps tasting, taunting them, saying it’s not right, try again. Until they get it right, only they’re not the only chubby ones anymore…but Nat doesn’t realize it until she indulges in one of their truly amazing meals and ends up popping a button. Sexy times!

Completely ignores the fact that the last writing I did here was all but a month ago and returns like nothing happened.

I haven't done something like this before! I dig it! It's giving this scene between Wanda and Vision

Also, it reminds me of this Steve and Natasha fic that I adore "Shaping Happiness"

Inspiration/reminders aside... yes! This idea is great!

I went off the prompt a little bit because I couldn’t help myself, I hope it’s still enjoyable!

Warnings for Steve × Natasha × Bucky belly kink below the cut. Unbeta'd. Stuffing, weight gain, dirty talk, etc.

At first, all the food Steve and Bucky attempt to cook for Natasha to cheer her up is truly terrible.

Steve has never been much of a cook, so he claims it’s not his fault. Listen! He's unlucky enough to burn water! So, as Bucky rediscovers Steve’s kitchen ineptitude, he's quickly relegated to boiling water at most and tasting as Bucky cooks at least. Steve cannot be trusted with knives and veggies most of the time (Bucky will never understand how he’s a superhero who can hold his own in combat), nor can he be trusted to measure something correctly (he’d much rather just "eyeball" it), and there is never a time where it is acceptable to allow Steve to cook something. He will turn up the temperature, thinking it’s not cooking fast enough, and accidentally attempt to burn the entire apartment to the ground. So, Steve gets to taste.

Only taste.

Bucky will give him spoonfuls or bits and pieces, and Steve will greedily take them. Praising Bucky’s cooking ability (re: his non-disaster existence in the kitchen that Steve occasionally envies, lmao) and asking for more, please? Weaponizing those pretty baby blues when Bucky’s successful enough for things to be edible.

Obviously, Bucky is a better chef between the two of them, but he's out of practice (years of being the fist of HYDRA will do that to you) and unfamiliar with these kinds of foods. So, even though he's still got a few of his Ma's recipes in the very back of his brain (not that Depression-era foods to keep the family fed are very good compared to a lot of these Russian delicacies), nothing is really… right… when they first begin making comfort food for Natasha.

They try all the staples:

Solyanka (sweet and sour beef stew), zharkoye (beef (or whatever extra meat you have around the house) and vegetable stew), zharkeo (chicken stew), etc.

Borscht (red beet soup), okroshka (vegetables, egg, potato, and meat soup), rassolnik (beef, barley, and pickle soup), shchi (cabbage soup), ukha (fish soup), etc.

Pelmeni (meat dumplings), pirozhki (savory baked or fried puff pastries), blini (wheat crepe-like pastries with sweet or savory fillings), borodinsky (dark rye bread), vatrushka (sweet pastry with cottage cheese and raisins), shashlik (kebabs with cubed meat and vegetables), ikra (caviar on bread/blini), pirozhki (yeast dough stuffed with savory or sweet fillings), etc.

Morozheneo (extra creamy Russian ice cream), pashka (sweetened cheesecake), kartoshka (basically Russian cake pops, often chocolate), kissel (cherry soup), medovik (layered honey and condensed milk cake), etc.

Steve will often spend the time that Bucky is spending cooking by looking up new recipes, and new foods, making sure to take them from credible sources so they don’t end up in a “diner situation”

The diner situation was what happened when Bucky was first recovering and they were surviving on takeout because Bucky was too afraid to allow himself around knives again and Steve was struggling (unsurprising), so no cooking for him, and they went to an “all-American diner.” Hoping for a taste of home and instead finding that the diner served food that was God fucking awful and worst of all, nothing like the actual food of the day it was claiming to represent! It made them both feel worse - lonelier. No one understood what it was like. What the food was, what the culture was, what it was like.

They don’t want that.

They will not be making some bogus “Russian food” that isn’t actually authentic.

Anyway -

All traditional Russian cuisine that Bucky attempts while Steve watches and tastes and researches aren't any good at first.

Like, they suck so much that Steve and Bucky don't even serve them to Natasha. Tasha doesn’t even know what they’re doing. She’s always out on missions or on Capitol Hill with Fury whenever they try their hand at making her familiar Russian foods by their design. While alone together in the apartment, Steve and Bucky quietly try each creation themselves, can barely swallow it at first, and decide… not yet.

Not yet.

They both want it to be perfect.

So, even when Steve begins to use his puppy-dog eyes for evil, begging for more treats, more tastes, because, holy shit, Buck, that’s great! That has to be what that is supposed to taste like! They don’t share the plan with Natasha yet.

Not yet.

Natasha catches onto the fact that something is going on as she starts to squint her eyes and pinch Steve’s hip or ass, gratefully sighing, “at least between the two of you, someone is fully embracing the house-husband lifestyle.”

Embracing the house-husband lifestyle by packing on a few pounds. Just enough to soften Steve’s usually perfect abs into a flat belly (unless he’s stuffed or bloated) and turning his thighs and ass into soft, squeezable shapes.

Bucky and Steve have both retired, giving them all the more time to spend experimenting and practicing recipes for Natasha as house-husbands and homemakers. But Steve is the only one beginning to plump up. He’s stopped going for his morning run and afternoon workouts cold turkey. Bucky still goes to the gym. He finds it meditative. Cooking and working out seem to be some of the only things that completely clear his mind. Steve, on the other hand, has always been single-minded. And it seems like eating has taken up all of his focus.

There's no room for anything else.

Steve tastes as Bucky goes, describing the flavors the best he can, telling him what he might try adding and how the flavor compares to what his research has told him the dish is supposed to be like. Then, when the dish is done, Steve tries it first, while it’s still hot (even if it’s supposed to be served cooled, Steve can’t help but have a healthy serving before it goes into the fridge). He gives notes again. Bucky tries it when it's fully ready. He has a nibble or two, just enough to taste - nothing like the full servings that Steve takes. Bucky has already had his lunch, and he doesn’t want to spoil his dinner. Then, if it’s good, Steve eats the rest of whatever they’ve made.

All of the rest.

Bucky’s taken to telling Steve to “hide the evidence” since they don’t want Tasha to know until they’re ready for her…

Is it really hiding, though, if they both know where the extra food is ending up in the form of a pretty, shaping-up pot belly? Sticking straight out from Steve's well-defined chest.

Food for thought. Ha.

“What is Bucky feeding you when I’m away?” Natasha purrs, on her knees, her sharp, white teeth digging into the new slope of Steve’s belly. He chugged a whole, huge pot of stew when Natasha texted an approximate 10-minute ETA. Getting rid of the evidence except… the stew was full of melt-in-your-mouth meat and potatoes and salt. Heavy. This stew isn't fucking around and it's apparently delectable (Steve's word). So, it’s obvious where the stew has gone. Right into his pot belly.

Swollen.

Once Natasha arrived, Steve was still sweating and just beginning to bloat up like a balloon from the excess sodium. And Tasha's always present 6th sense for knowing how best to drive Steve up the wall, complained about how hungry she was.

A devious grin split Bucky’s face, asking what she was craving because they’d be sure to order lots of it. Whatever she wanted.

She said Indian food.

Perfect.

That’s not something Steve can resist. He loves Indian food. And, sure enough, he wolfed down a whole ‘nother dinner. Getting red in the face from the spice heat and temperature heat, his poor belly gurgling loudly in a fit of digestion.

Steve shrugs in reply to her question, biting his lip out of arousal but also out of desperation to hide the overfull groan that wants to come out of him. He’s been fighting burps and moans and hiccups all evening. Trying to not make his packed state so fucking obvious.

Bucky thought he was into seeing Steve like this - bloated and round - because he loves seeing his fella happy and healthy and fulfilled. Bucky thought he was into cooking and baking and experimenting with food for Natasha because he loves her, and he wants to make her happy and bring her comfort and just do something sweet for her. Those things are true. But, watching Natasha dig her painted nails into Steve’s soft parts…

There’s something else here, too.

Woo, boy.

“Mm,” Natasha is half-asleep, exhausted from yet another mission, yawning, and curled up like a cat in a sunspot between them. Her head is cushioned on Steve’s chest, “‘m pretty sure we could get rid of our pillows and be just fine.” She squeezes the pec that her head isn’t pillowed on in her hand, groping him, “got enough right here.”

Steve inhales shakily, turning bright red.

Bucky can tell by looking at him that he’s not insulted, far from it, that’s his this-is-making-my-dick-hard face. He's squirming, too. Blood going straight for his dick with a vengeance.

“Eh, just wait a little longer 'fore we make any rash decisions, m'kay, doll?” Bucky murmurs, amused, running his metal fingers through Tasha’s fire-red hair.

She grumpily frowns but then snuggles more into Steve’s jiggly chest, taking it as being warned about how tired she is rather than waiting because Steve’s going to get plumper. More cushion.

Good.

The more blindsided she is by the comfort, the better. Bucky wants it to take her out - to make her feel so much better that all she can do is accept it. She has a hard enough time allowing herself simple pleasures.

She deserves it all and more.

“Damn, Rogers, you ever think about doing a centerfold? I’m pretty sure Playboy would make an exception for you if we asked.” Natasha husks, her face all up in Steve’s business. Lips and teeth and tongue working at his little hole while her hands spread his extra full cheeks apart.

Steve simply whines, high-pitched and pathetic.

It’s a damn good response, considering her question and considering how Bucky has his cock rammed down his throat. Stuffing him.

Steve is suspended between them, face-planted onto Bucky’s cock, choking, his arms useless, half crushed under his chest against the bed, and arching back against Tasha. His legs shake under him when Natasha does something special with her sharp tongue. Steve’s in heaven. Choking on dick, throat full, and getting fucked with a hot, wet tongue deep inside his sweet hole.

Now, after weeks and weeks of practice, not just Steve’s big, heavy dick hangs down toward the bed... now his belly does, too. It jiggles when he squirms. Every time Bucky squeezes his growing gut, Steve makes a sound like he’s dying. It’s a different sound to what he makes when Natasha gropes his thickening ass or widening love handles. Also, different from the sound he makes when they feel up his expanding tits. All his sounds are sweet, but the sound he makes for his belly is especially guttural and desperate.

“Curves for days,” Bucky bites out, thrusting in hard. “Better than any of the girls in those pages.”

Steve chokes.

Tasha laughs, just this side of cruel. “Mmm-hmm,” she spanks his ass just to watch the fat flesh ripple, “getting more and more curves these days. I guess retirement is good for somethin’.”

The growl Bucky lets out is unintentional. It’s barely been a year since they retired. So, what will Steve look like in a year? What will Natasha look like when she’s face-first in his ass then? Will Natasha have to buy a longer strap to reach Stevie’s hole, much of the plastic length getting swallowed by his monstrous ass? How fat will Steve be if they keep going, his perfect, little, superhero figure ruined?

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

Bucky can’t take the thought. He ends up coming down Steve’s throat with a shout from behind gritted teeth.

Steve doesn’t mysteriously grow forever, though...

When they’re ready, Bucky and Steve arrange with Fury for Natasha to have a full three-day weekend off, no interruptions unless the world is literally being torn in two. Then, with the guarantee, they prepare.

First, Steve does research into the traditional Russian foods that would be used for a celebration - a feast - and arranges an entire multi-course menu for the occasion. His poor belly, so used to tasting and now able to recognize most of the dishes he comes across, wails the whole time he works. He’s not hungry. Not exactly. He just wants something in his mouth. He wants to taste. He can’t wait for the feast. Bucky has to remind him again and again that this is Natasha’s feast. She’s going to eat what she wants, and then Steve can destroy the leftovers.

Second, Bucky prepares all the dishes. One last time. Every detail on point. Practicing. Getting everything as perfect as he can. Making sure the dishes and drinks in each course compliment each other well.

Steve gobbles it all up, stuffed like a traditional American Thanksgiving turkey by the end of it. Panting around his bounty, all of it shoved down his throat, turning his belly into a red, tight beachball that Bucky wants to worship.

And for once, Bucky is relieved that Natasha is currently, before her long weekend, on a multiple-day mission. She’s out of the apartment and not returning tonight. He’s relieved because it means he doesn’t have to explain this to her.

Steve. Stuffed. Food-drunk and hard and moaning about it.

There’s no way this would be an accident. No one gets completely, illogically gorged like this without trying.

When did tasting bits and pieces become vacuuming up the entire dish Bucky made anyway? Bucky doesn’t exactly know. But he can’t complain. All he can do is rub Steve’s skin with lotion then jerk him off slow and tight, dragging it out until Steve is sobbing, holding his taunt gut desperately like he can keep himself together, keep himself from splitting at the seams, and then blacking out when he’s finally allowed to come because it feels so good.

Third, they prepare all the food before Tasha is set to arrive home. She’s been in debrief most of the morning, but before that, she caught a cat nap on the quinjet and then showered at Stark Tower. She should be refreshed. There’ll be no reason to delay the feast. Bucky doesn’t want to have to reheat it and ruin some of the delicate flavor.

He wants it perfect.

Steve waddles around, helping Bucky to set the table the traditional Russian way - including the shot of vodka next to the water and wine glasses. Steve waddles because Bucky had to make sure he had his fill of food before the feast. Otherwise, he would’ve probably been helpless not to hoover up all the decadence laid out in front of him. He’s created a monster. Even if it’s been hotter than sin to watch him lose self-control after so many years of being perfectly in control of every little part of himself and his life - but, there needs to be an intervention of that new habit today.

So, Steve is stuffed, barely holding himself together. Panting. Flushed. Sweaty. Aroused. Filled.

Bucky is so focused on the stew in front of him, steaming on the stovetop, as he ladles it into an appropriate bowl for serving that he doesn’t hear Natasha unlock the apartment door. The first thing he hears from her is a pleased moan.

“What is that smell?” She asks, her husky voice bright.

“I think you know what it is,” Bucky chirps back, charming.

“Mm-hm,” she hums. Bucky hopes he isn’t projecting when he thinks that she sounds delighted.

But, before he can get anything else out of her, he hears her gasp. He’s about to round the corner and check on her, make sure nothing is wrong after her mission, when -

“Oh, маленький поросенок,” she purrs, “this is why you’ve grown so plump, isn’t it?”

Bucky shivers, setting down both the ladle and the bowl, quickly stalking toward the dining table. Little piglet. God. Did he hear her correctly? Did - is… is that what she really just called Steve?

Little piglet.

The meaning of the words themselves, along with the sound of smooth, purred Russian in Natasha’s voice, leaves Bucky’s heart pounding in his chest.

This was part of the plan, too. Making Steve irrestiable, putting him on display, was part of the plan. He just didn’t -

He didn’t expect it to affect him so much.

He wanted it for Tasha.

Just for her, he left Steve at the dining table, sitting back in one of the heavy wooden chairs with his big belly wedged between the armrests as a gift. Huffing and puffing, stuffed as he already is. His hands resting on either round, bowed-out side of his tummy, rubbing himself lazily. He’s in a tight white t-shirt that’s been pushed up by his swollen middle, exposing a delicious, pale slice of his lower belly that’s been marked by hot, pink stretch marks. Even the serum can’t keep up with the ravenous appetite inside of Steve. The elastic of his grey sweatpants has been stretched to its limits and crushed under his gut. If his heavy belly is lifted up, jostled enough to make him moan, it becomes obvious just how low his sweats are on his hips because the top of his neatly trimmed, blond pubic hair is right there.

Sweet.

He looks delicious.

He looks like one of the Russian pastries Bucky has prepared. Golden and puffy. Hell, he might look more like the dough for the pastry before it’s baked - he’s certainly doughy and soft and he’s expanding out of his clothes like he’s expanding, growing from too much yeast.

Natasha is standing next to him now, her mouth open, staring at him, trying to figure out where to begin. A cat with a mouse, all hers to play with.

The moment she touches him, Steve arches his back, pushing into her touch. Hungry for even that.

Gluttonous.

He’s so gluttonous.

More. More. More.

More of everything. Anything.

“You gonna sit down, doll?”

Natasha shuts her full lips with a click but nods, almost shy with how her eyes flick toward him, then away. Demure in a way that she never is. Normally, if she wants something. She’s going to get it.

This is a different side of her, and Bucky already likes it.

Bucky pulls out a chair for her, the one directly across the table from Steve. She sits, and he pushes her in. He leaves quite a bit of space between her and the table, hoping her gluttonous side will appear and flourish, too. He wants to see her belly grow until it touches the edge of the table.

Christ.

He wants her to eat until she can’t have another bite.

Maybe she’ll let him feed her like Steve lets him.

Maybe she’ll grow as round and fat as Steve has.

He enjoys having one little piglet as a lover, so what could be better than two?

Fuck.

More than excited, Bucky sits himself at the head of the table after bringing the first course. He serves Steve just as much as he serves Natasha, unable to not feed him when he looks so sweet. Even if the plan had been to stuff Steve beforehand so he would be sated (and also to allow him to sit for long enough that he’d be ready to play by the time Natasha was done eating).

Steve is...

He's perfect. Irresistible. Blue eyes dazed, eyelids heavy, cheeks red with heat, head hanging low enough to give him a full double chin. A preview of what’s to come if he keeps blowing up like a balloon. It’s delicious.

Tasha eats everything that Bucky serves her. Everything. Practically licking each plate or bowl clean. She praises his dedication, obviously noticing the care and preparation of the presentation but also tasting the care and prep. These are not flavors that are easy to attain. It’s not perfect. But Natasha is glad it isn’t perfect. That means they can do this again. And again and again and again. Until they have it perfect. Then. Even after that, they should do it. This is good.

Natasha is enjoying herself because, perfect or not, it does settle her. She feels like she could close her eyes and be in one of the rare moments of her childhood where she felt safe and comforted. Better than that, too. With her eyes open, she’s here with her lovers. Her маленький поросенок [little piglet] and her… her кормушка.

Кормушка.

That feels right.

Her feeder.

That’s what Bucky is doing, feeding her, stuffing her, giving her everything she wanted and beyond. More than she could’ve imagined.

The fuller Tasha gets, the farther they get through the courses, the more settled she feels.

It’s hard, she realizes, to allow her abs to let go and expand with the bulk of the food she’s putting down, but, when they make it to the third type of stew, Bucky pauses to rub her belly over her tightening blouse and she moans and breathes heavy and let's go.

She unrounds.

She didn’t realize she was sucking in every moment of every day. Exhaustive. Letting go makes her toes curl. She watches Steve across the table and does as he does, mirroring him, squirming.

“Oh, Джеймс,” Natasha moans his name in Russian, James. Moving side to side, squirming, she can feel the food sloshing inside her. It’s so akin to the feeling of being fucked that it’s shocking. Full. Every sweet spot inside her hit. No wonder Steve loves this enough to have plumped up so deliciously, so rapidly.

She must be making a wet spot on her chair. The heat between her legs is so intense. She would love to squeeze her legs together and feel the throb of her pussy, stimulating herself, but she’s afraid she can’t move her legs. They’ve fallen apart. Spread. Making room for her belly to grow between.

Grow and grow and grow.

Until it’s inhibited by the size of her shirt and the band of her pants, belted tightly to her skin. Her blouse is too tight. The belt is cutting her in half. Without the belt, she’s sure her pants would be giving her trouble anyway. Together, it’s all agony. And these pathetic sounds she only makes when her lovers spend their day working her up and up and up, not letting her come until the sun has begun to set and all she can do is weakly clutch at them, crying, sobbing, and whimpering for her release. Begging to have it. And making a massive mess when she does, squirting hard enough the first time she was convinced she pissed herself. Just. Drenched. Broken like a dry branch snapping.

Crack.

How does she feel like she’s there already?

Steve is watching her from across the table with this obscene, blatant, animal desire etched into his pretty face. She’s not sure she’s ever seen him look so dumb and dominant at once. Like he wants to take her, to devour her, but he doesn’t know how.

Not a thought in his head.

She doesn't blame Steve, though. It is exquisitely difficult to think when so stuffed. She's full up to her eyebrows, and every swallow is forcing her brain out of her head. No thoughts.

Bucky reflects the look on Steve’s face, just, without so much of the stupid. He’s clearly awed, but he knows exactly what he wants.

What he wants to do to her.

What he wants from her.

Pop.

Before she can even realize what’s happened, Natasha is moaning, gruff and loud, and breathless all at once. She has a mouthful of food that she’s having a hard time swallowing, and her body doesn’t want more food. Her mind wants more food. She needs. More. Just a little more. Please? This feast has to end at some point, doesn’t it? So she might as well take all she can get while she can get it, right?

What happened? She turns her head towards Bucky, feeling entirely shit-faced drunk in a way that she… she hasn’t maybe ever felt.

Tasha swallows her mouthful of food, moaning as it slides into her. Stuffing her more. Deep. And -

Pop. Pop.

“AH!” She moans again, twisting her head too fast when she hears an answering clink, clink.

Her eyes follow the sound and find Steve’s plate and her answer.

Two of the three buttons she’s just popped off of her blouse, each feeling like an orgasm in their own right, has landed on his plate.

Steve is staring at them. Chin doubled. Hungry and dumb with his mouth open.

Oh.

Natasha squirms as much as her overfull, clothes-breaking gut will allow for, crying out when she feels her bare skin come into contact with the edge of the table.

She's grown so huge.

Please, please, please.

She doesn’t know what she’s begging for, what her little, hurt, desperate sounds mean. She just knows she needs.

And the second Bucky pulls out her chair, rips her blouse open to allow her to fully expand, tears her belt out of the buckle, shreds her pants, and gets his head between her shaking thighs, she’s coming. Coming and coming and coming. It feels endless. Steve’s eyes are hot enough on her to feel like a physical touch that throws her over the edge that much more. The hot, wet press of Bucky’s mouth against her, her soaked tight core, is too much.

“Oh, oh, oh!” She can’t stop moaning as she orgasms, entirely swept up by the tide of pleasure and excess.

This is absolutely happening again. She's already -

Yeah.

She already knows.

Absolutely.

She gets off so hard on it, stuffed to glutted at their dining table, Steve in the same condition, that Tasha thinks she may never get off on anything else ever. She's been ruined. She already knows.

She's ruined, and this is going to ruin her figure. All she can think about is how decadent Steve feels, fat and soft and lush, and her own body being that? Oh, it blows her mind. Their bodies together, both fat and soft and lush and curvy and round, next to Bucky - all solid, hard muscle. Oh, fuck, that obliterates her mind.

😳

[tonydaddingham]

✨ episode 4 - running commentary✨

- I'm not ready for this no no no no no DEEP BREATH ok let's go

- I will just say actually that ep3 has turned it around for me, like 100% and it is SO MUCH BETTER on tv than on the bigger screen, the screenings were fun but a Mistake

- anyWAY

- LESI???

- ok literally a hitchhiker lmao @theeminentlyimpractical wins this round HAHAH JTS SHAX JAHAHA mood swing

- oh my god i want them to be friends in an AU fuCK SHE WORKED IT OUT AZIRAPHALE LMAO

- BAD SHAX HE IS ✨EXACTLY✨ HIS TYPE fucking BEAT HER ASS AZZY

- lmao aziraphale???? YOU SLY DOG????

- this has to be a fuck moment right aziraphale? az?? CMON SWEAR YOU DUMBASS BITCH

- honestly aziraphale if it turns out furfur is an ex we need to have cocktails bbygirl tell me EVERYTHING YOU DIRTY HOE

- 40S MINISODE ARGHJ🚨🚨🚨🚨

- lmao walking dead au when, they really did end up down there huh I mean foregone conclusion but this gives me LIFE

- idc about hell I need the BOYS I need the dinner of motherfucking 41

- all the Nazis lmao get shredded bitches

- furfur lol this is doomed to failure

- DAVID TENNANT ON FIRE FUCK YES

- aziraphale stop trying to offer him a handy I'm sorry but you need to TONE IT DOWN you nearly got blown up NOW IS NOT THE TIME offer him a blowy LATER

- no I'm sorry but Mrs h???? FUCKING GET THEM GIRL THEYRE MY BABIES BUT INEPT AF

- THE SHOT THE CROWLEY PICTURE FUCK

- this is so much better than I could have ever predicted NEIL YOU MAGNIFICENT BASTARd

- AHHHHHH AM I ABOUT TO BE RIGHT ABOUT THE 40S MINSODE DID I PREDICT THS???? DO THEY KISS????💓✨ IS THERE A 🚨MOMENT🚨

- also lmao the dinner is after the show??? idk let's see

- IM SWEATIN SO HARD THIS KS SO GOOd

- fucking HOWLING at the Nazi trio hahaha Steve pemberton is *the* moment lmaooooo

- OOP NO DINNER DINNER NOW??? Also lmao 'friends' I bet that BURNED Michael's mouth to FUCK

- crowley's face I'm DYING aziraphale you're so SILLY

- fuck me im so whipped for 40s Crowley and his lil jazzy wazzy hands

- THE WAY HE FLIRTS FUCK OFF GO AWAY CROWLEY stop buttering him up HES ABOJT TO JUMP YOU BUD

- ahhh magic shop!!!!!✨✨✨

- I know we said that aziraphale has the patience of a saint but I take it back Crowley is still an angel I'm convinced of it

- aziraphale literally has no self preservation I love him

- "leave the miracles to us" snarky ass bitch

- AHHHH HE TRUSTS CROWLEY FUCK YES the way he grabs his MF HAND no I'm done now

- DID I CALL CROWLEY BEING A VOLUNTEER IN A FUCKINF SHITPOST my GOD

- aziraphale you are a disaster

- I FUCKING CALLED IT HAHAHA this is my win ill tAKE IT CROWLEY CALLED AS A VOLUNTEER HAHAHA

- oh my god someone drag him off stage pLEASE

- GRITTED TEETH "NEITHER ARE MINE HEHE" hahahaha

- HE LITERALLY HAS TO TRUST CROWLEY UGH THIS IS 4AM GIRL DINNER ✨💓

- Cmon Crowley you can do it bbygirl💓💓💓💓

- HE DID IT

- here we GO THE DRESSING ROOM SCENE YES

- no fuck off furfur they need to snog go away OH MY GOD THEY KNEW EACH OTHER, jealous AZIRAPHALE?????

- "AZIRA-FALALALALA"

- oh I'm living for the zombies I love them

- lmao that photo hahahaha

- FUCK AZIRAPHALE YOU ARe so goOD AT MAGIC AND SLEIGHT OF HAND IM SORRY I EVER DOUBTED YOU you saved yourselves YES

- DINNER DINNER DINNER

- NOW KISS

- NOW

- "retire the act"

- OH MT FOD THIS IS SO SOFT??????? FUCKINF HELL

- BLUR THE MF EDGES

- THE WIIIIIIINE

- wait no come back u need to kiss now no

- fucking cockblocked by a scene change fuCK

- NO SHAX YOU BITCH NO LEAVE THEM ALONE LEAVE THEM ALOOOOOONNEEEEEE

- PLEASE

- yes beelzebub NO BEELZEBUB lol another mood swing

- annnnnd he's back home💓💓💓

- I KNEW AZIRAPHALE WAS BENTLEY'S FAVE get shitted on crowley

- he's MOVING BACK IN???? INTK RHE BENTLEY???? CROWLEY TOU ARE SO STUPID BABES

- "a night to REMEMBER" lmao it BETTER BE

Oh no it's the ball episode next I BETTER GET THAT KISS but also an explanation for "u go too fast for me Crowley" bc that did NOT explain it

[hilarychuff]

ao3 first lines

tagged by @mistysharks! check out theirs here

rules: post the first lines of your 10 most recently published AO3 stories. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

Something Down the Road Didn't Happen Yet

(this is a collection of stranger things au graphics/blurbs so just posting the first line of the first one, but it’s a robin/chrissy miss congeniality au lmao)

Over the years, Robin has worked stupidly hard to get as far as she has in the FBI. Her skills as a codebreaker were carefully honed, her fluency in now five different languages was hard-won, and it was no easy feat learning how to wrestle her stubbornly uncoordinated body into fighting shape so that she could throw a punch as good as the rest of the recruits. So when she botches the Russian op and finds herself yanked out of the field and plopped squarely on Assistant Director Hopper’s shit list, she’s desperate to make things right — not least of all because Steve has been put on the Miss United States case. Without her.

The Royal Records

(now this one is a jonsa/asoiaf princess diaries au where jon gets to be the princess 😌)

“Um,” Sansa says suddenly, the slightly higher pitch of her voice grabbing Jon’s attention as they walk side by side to school.

She’s been talking practically nonstop for the last five minutes, rambling really as she fills him in about her day yesterday, how Sister Mordane gave her a solo in choir, how Robb’s band practiced the same song for forty-five minutes straight at their uncle Benjen’s garage last night. He doesn’t mind. He’s liked just listening, actually.

I Remember (I Remember)

(jonsa canon-based au where jon meets alayne in the vale)

“That’s pretty,” Jon says, and her heart thumps hard in her chest. He must feel it, the way her pulse jumps, sending every inch of her skin zinging, but his face does not change one wink. 

Am I Making You Laugh (Am I The Joke)

(jonsa/asoiaf overboard au!!! drabble)

“Sansa,” Jon says, voice hard, flinty, and she flinches, freezes, but he doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t move closer than where he stands across the lawn.

He waits for her to look back at him, and when she finally does there’s a flash of something across his face, but then it’s gone, gone too fast for her to recognize it.

In Any World (In Any Way)

(this one is my jonsa/asoiaf au graphics/blurbs collection so again just grabbing the first line of the first one, which is a jonsa bring it on au)

Finally — finally! — it's Sansa's time to shine. Now that Margaery Tyrell has graduated, gone off to college, and relinquished her grasp on the captain position, Sansa's getting her chance to step into the role and prove that she too can lead the RCH Knights to a cheerleading championship victory. But being captain isn't as easy as it looks, and the first practice of the year ends all too quickly when Beth Cassel falls and breaks her ankle. 

I Carry It In Mine

(jonsa/asoiaf canon-based soulmate/soulmark au)

It’s a surprise when Jon’s mark comes in. Old Nan had said that when the Children of the Forest ruled the land, the old gods gave everyone a soulmate, but these days they’re rare. When he wakes one day in his tenth year, he doesn’t expect to find a name over his heart. Robb has been ten for months and hasn’t had a name appear, and Theon was still unmarked by his eleventh name day. The both of them are to be lords one day, the leaders of two of the great houses, and he is no one, just some bastard. But when the feeling of a burning in his chest interrupts his slumber, something deep inside of him knows what it means before he even opens his eyes.

Grant Sees a Ghost

(ooo this is my agents of shield haunting of hill house au drabble lmao)

It’s been a long day, fruitless, and Ward is tired as he wrestles two armloads of bags through the door to his apartment building. He hadn’t slept well last night, not in that random woman’s house, not with the specter of a specter looming over him. Much as he’d made a second career out of writing about them, Ward knows ghosts aren’t real, and yet sleeping in a room where someone claimed to have spotted one, trying to catch one on camera — It always left him unsettled the next day, itchy.

Howl

(this is my sansa/jonsa/asoiaf scream au!!! very recently had some really good thoughts about howl 3 but here’s the first bit of howl 1)

“Joff? What — what are you doing here?”

Technically, Sansa’s boyfriend wasn’t allowed at the Stark house anymore. He’d been effectively banned ever since he’d gotten into an actual, honest-to-gods fist fight with Arya, and though Sansa knew her little sister had been the one to throw the first punch, she hadn’t wanted to argue. Things had been tense between the Stark sisters for too long, and after their parents died — Well, it wasn’t worth fighting anymore.

Door to Door Delivery

(jonsa/asoiaf while you were sleeping au drabble)

“You look cold,” Jon tells her as they walk along the Chicago River.

“Hmm?” she asks, and it’s only once he brings it up that she notices it’s true, she’s shivering.

Things We Lost in the Flames, What We Found in the Ashes

(agents of shield missing scenes in s2, mack pov re: jemma)

He figures he should’ve been expecting something like this after May shot Hunter in order to keep Simmons safe, but it still takes him a moment to put the pieces together and realize what’s happening.

“You know, there are a lot of fire extinguishers in here,” Coulson says evenly as he looks around the garage. “You should be careful around Simmons.”

gonna skip tagging this time but anyone who wants to do it should!

[loki-is-my-kink-awakening]

G, O, T for your ask game!

Thank you so much for these asks. This really got my brain thinking and, well, the following happened.

G - Do you remember your first OTP, if so who was in it

My first conscious "they are perfect for one another and must be together" was Lokius. I know there have been other ships that have crossed my mind in the past, but I never gave it much thought, my brain hyper focusing on "keeping myself busy" because of trauma.

Now I've had therapy, I can spend all the time devoting my brain to thinking about Lokius (and other ships) because it makes me happy.

But I do remember being frustrated by Mulder and Scully dancing around each other and thought Xena and Gabrielle should be together.

O - Choose a song at random, which ship or character does it remind you of

Lmao, I clicked on my "On Repeat" Spotify playlist and selected random play. It picked this.

You and I both know I've been listening to this A LOT recently.

And in truth, I see connections with the following ships because, clearly, I have a type.

🎵 Half in the shadows, half burned in flames

Priley—because, duh, they kinda have to stay out of the sun, but also the push and pull of their relationship.

🎵 If I could take your hand, oh, if you could understand

That I can barely breathe, the air is thin, I fear the fall and where we'll land

Lokius—because of that scene in episode 6 where Loki has lost everything. 😭😭😭

🎵 We can't look back for nothin', take what you need, say your goodbyes

I gave you everything, and it's a beautiful crime

Geraskier—and my poor Jaskier's broken heart after the mountain breakup 😭😭😭

🎵 Leaving the things we lost, oh, leaving the ones we've crossed

I have to make an end so we begin, to save my soul at any cost

Steddie—with Steve grieving Eddie and what they could have been

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending, about anything at all (gender identity, sexual or romantic orientation, extended family, sexual preferences like top/bottom/switch, relationship with poetry, seriously anything)

Jaskier

Is genderqueer, bisexual, biromantic, has a family he no longer sees, is a service switch (he'd top or bottom, whatever, he's flexible). Open to polyamory/non-monogamy. The king of poetry.

Mobius M. Mobius

Is male—cis or trans. He's gay, homoromantic, has a sister, a niece and nephew (on the timeline). He'd happily fulfil most (but not all) of Loki's sexual wants, so a service switch. He needs monogamy. Clueless about poetry but will happily listen to Loki wax lyrical.

Loki

Is canonical genderfluid but I sometimes see him/them as nonbinary. Canonically bisexual. See him as biromantic. We know his family already. Definitely a switch and decides what sex he wants now that he doesn't need to woo someone he intends to betray. Never really thought he'd be in a relationship so hadn't thought about monogamy, but wants it with Mobius. Another king of poetry.

Eddie Munson

Is nonbinary or male—cis or trans. He's gay, homoromantic, canonically has an uncle, but I believe his dad is in jail and his mom is an alcoholic. He's a Dom/top. He'd liked to have a small harem of submissives but as soon as Steve wants to be with him, he'll happily put that dream aside and be monogamous. King of poetry in music form, would join a spoken word club.

Riley Flynn

Is male—cis or trans. He's closeted gay, biromantic, top or bottom depending on my mood, sometimes switch. Monogamous but would let their partner be non-monogamous. Thinks poetry is nice but doesn't read much of it.

[kingsofhellfire]

Teaching Dustin to Drive

Ana | angst princess — Today at 10:01 AM

Thinking about the henderfam family time

Steve and Eddie driving Dustin around and hanging out with him

lettersinthesand — Today at 10:21 AM

Yes 🥺

Gorgeousgreymatter — Today at 10:21 AM

I love the hc of steve teaching Dustin to drive and Eddie being like yeah team effort and Steve being like absofuckinglutely not lmao

lettersinthesand — Today at 10:22 AM

Hbdhsgsfd YEAH

Steve being like "i am teaching you how to drive but NOT in the BMW"

Gorgeousgreymatter — Today at 10:23 AM

Haha Dustin would burn his clutch out in a day :sNort:

Ana | angst princess — Today at 10:27 AM

Steve in the driver's seat, Dustin in the passenger's and Eddie in the back

flintandfuss — Today at 10:55 AM

Dustin mixes up the gas and the breaks and hits a tree. Eddie somehow gets the blame

@medlilove she/her 🤘🏻 — Today at 11:03 AM

They are all yelling at the same time

Ana | angst princess — Today at 11:03 AM

Steve and Eddie driving Dustin to his entrance exams and cheering for him 🥹

I have many feelings about the Henderfam

They are both Dustin's dads

I wish we could have gotten a spin off

@medlilove she/her 🤘🏻 — Today at 11:04 AM

🥲

lettersinthesand — Today at 11:36 AM

Yes 😭

lettersinthesand — Today at 11:36 AM

Now im just picturing that scene from Bob's burgers where Tina hits the only car in the entire parking lot

Gorgeousgreymatter — Today at 11:37 AM

Omfg Dustin Tina groaning the whole time :sNort:

lettersinthesand — Today at 11:37 AM

Lmao YEAH

Just. This https://youtu.be/hZ_EKHGgWJQ

YouTube

S C

Bob's Burgers - Tina Driving A Car

Image

kesbird — Today at 11:38 AM

THATS WHAT I WAS THINKING

lettersinthesand — Today at 11:40 AM

"DUSTIN YOURE HEADING TOWARDS THE ONLY CAR IN THE LOT"

kesbird — Today at 11:42 AM

Except Steve would be leaning over and stealing the wheel from him and turning it and then more hysteric screaming because Dustin won’t get his foot off the gas even as Steve is turning th wheel

lettersinthesand — Today at 11:45 AM

LMAO YEAH

Meanwhile Eddie is screaming in the backseat

I'm just imagining that one moment when i almost ran off the highway during a driving lesson because i started turning the wheel on accident while looking behind me and my instructor just threw herself over to the wheel

Like

wynnyfryd || moo moo! — Today at 11:46 AM

lmaooooo, that tina scene has will byers written all over it

lettersinthesand — Today at 11:46 AM

Steve: alright, you're doing fine, now check the dead angle

Dustin: ok [turns the entire wheel with him]

Steve: JESUS CHRIST NO

wynnyfryd || moo moo! — Today at 11:47 AM

my parents took me out to middle of nowhere farm country to learn how to drive and i almost drove us into a cow pasture doing this exact move

kesbird — Today at 11:47 AM

Eddie trying to get to the wheel too like lunging over dustins head and now Steve is fighting both dustin adn eddie becasue either one of them at the wheel is BAD right now

lettersinthesand — Today at 11:48 AM

I CANT

lettersinthesand — Today at 11:48 AM

LMAO YUP

kesbird — Today at 11:49 AM

Dude my driving instructor instead of taking me on my first ride in a parking lot or with some cones immediately just told me to DRIVE ON THE INTERSTATE so I'm white knuckling the steering wheel going faster than I've ever been in my LIFE and he's yelling because i'm freaking out and dont know how to gently turn to another lane going this fast and boy howdy was there fear in my whole body after that

like most everyone in my rural little hick town had technically been driving cars and tractors since they were like 10 so I guess he just assumed I was the same but he learned VERY quickly that I was not in fact ready in any way to drive

wynnyfryd || moo moo! — Today at 11:50 AM

omfg just imagine dustin getting the wheels stuck in manure :sNort:

kesbird — Today at 11:51 AM

I imagine Dustin having this experience when his mom signs him up for a driving class and gets ptsd and steve is like i'll teach you and as soon as they start he's panicking because AHh

"He told me to ride it like i would a tractor steven! I've never even TOUCHED a tractor I was in hell!"

lettersinthesand — Today at 11:53 AM

LMAO YES

lettersinthesand — Today at 11:53 AM

Steve- this is why we're NOT doing this in the BMW!

[teenytinylion]

Harringrove for BLM commission for @lissieisspacey

Greetings from Los Angeles, California

jealous shitbird?! - Billy

We wish that you guys were here, too! - Steve

P.S. I’m happy you’re not here that way I can eat out Steve all day long ;-P

Don’t write that Billy >:(

[crazycookiecrumbles]

Rise, Puppet

Masterlist

A/N:  I’M SO DEVASTATED  — SEASON 4 SPOILERS

also reblogs and comments appreciated. especially comments, like, i need feedback to live and to motivate lmao

Pairings/Characters:  Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: depictions of violence, mentions of death, swearing, crack fic, happy ending

Summary: After losing Eddie in the Upside Down, you’ve discovered a much more aggressive side to yourself that likes to fight. Hopefully, that’ll come in handy when you go back to defeat Vecna. Again.

The anger you had felt was burning you from the inside out. You wanted to scream. You wanted to put your fist through drywall, hell, you wanted to grab Dustin by his shoulders and throw him out the window, but you couldn’t do that.

You were with the usual suspects, the unknown heroes of Hawkins who were preparing to go to the Upside Down once and for all to end Vecna, a final battle that was sure to suffer numerous fatalities. Your friends were planning on going without you, given that the last time you were involved with this mess, you went a little crazy afterwards.

“And that’s why you can’t go! Because you lose your shit more than everyone, and that’s saying a lot. Look how fucking crazy these people are. Hopper was in fucking Russia for Christ’s sake!” Dustin shouted at you.

You shook your head as you paced back and forth like a caged feline trying desperately to break free and hunt her prey. You stopped short and turned to Dustin quickly, striding so fast and getting so close that he thought you really were going to grab him by his jacket and throw him somewhere. Instead, you held your fists up and took a deep breath before biting the knuckles on your right hand before shoving them into your pockets, “I did not.”

“You beat the fuck out of Andy on his front yard,” Dustin shouted at you. “That’s crazy!”

You threw your hands in the air, “I heard he tackled an 11-year-old girl! Who the fuck does that? And you can’t tell me that wasn’t him being racist as shit. I mean, half this town —“

“Y/N,” Steve began as he stepped closer to you and in front of Dustin to relieve some of the pressure and anger off of him. “Look, you’ve been doing this since the beginning, I get it, but this time…someone should stay back, you know, say what happened, tell our story.”

You stared at Steve for a moment before snorting, “You’re full of shit.”

“Am not!”

“Tell your story? What, like some woman in waiting? I’m not going to go psycho —“

“You heard Eddie died and went absolutely postal on Andy because he’s the only one left out of that weird little hate gang they made. I don’t think you should go down there,” Dustin explained.

“And you should?” You laughed, “You’re just as bad as me —“

“Eddie knows I totally loved him. You never told him,” Dustin replied.

Your mouth fell open. Okay. Maybe Dustin did have a point. You never admitted you had a crush on your dungeon master, but how could you? It was impractical! It was your senior year (first time for you, countless for Eddie), you were finally feeling like you had a gang to belong to, even though most of them happened to be freshman. You were having fun enjoying life, and you fell in love with the most unexpected person you could have ever imagined.

And, of course, you never told him. When could you? 

First of all, if he didn’t return those feelings, you couldn’t return to Hellfire Club, it would be too much. Secondly, what if he started to favor you in the group because he did return those feelings? It would be unfair to the game! Thirdly, you couldn’t tell him before you guys went after Vecna! He would be distracted. You didn’t want him distracted, because you didn’t want to lose him.

Well, look how that turned out.

“I want her there,” Hopper chimed in, surprising several people there. “What? A few of you are staying back with Max and El while she goes into her mind, the more we have down there, the better. I want someone with that much rage on my team.”

You nodded, “Thanks, Chief—Hopper.”

He nodded and looked around, grabbing a machete off of the table and handing it to you, “You can handle that, can’t you?”

“Actually,” you cleared your throat and went to the front door of the cabin where you had abandoned your duffel bag. You brought it over and dropped it on the coffee table after opening it up. Reaching in, you brought out a bow and held it up confidently, “I’ve been practicing.”

~*~

Dustin was so upset you were there. Like Steve and Eddie, he had grown attached to you too since the day you actually acknowledged his presence when you and Nancy were in her room studying and he interrupted asking if you guys wanted leftover pizza. You cooed that he looked adorable and squishable while Nancy stayed focused on her phone conversation and threw her shoe to shut the door in his face.

Needless to say, you and Nancy had different priorities around that time, and while she was straying away from the kids, you found that you were putting yourself in their business more because they actually acknowledged your existence when you were around.

So, Dustin didn’t want you here. He lost Eddie, Steve was here, he didn’t want to lose you too, another member of his trifecta of teens that he dubbed as being his older siblings and role models that he looked up to, but never said as much to. Being in the Upside Down again, it was a lot for him, more than he expected it to be, and he couldn’t help but think about Eddie’s final moments. Dustin looked up to you to see how you were doing.

You were ready to fight since you had gotten down there. You had a quiver resting against your leg filled with arrows you had soaked in gasoline so you could light them on fire. There was also the machete strapped to your belt on your other side that received a gasoline shower and was ready to be ignited at any moment. You looked like you were ready for war, and, well, this is, essentially, what it was. You guys were walking into a war that you were likely all going to lose and die, and here you were, still going.

You stopped walking with the group when you heard a noise. You turned your head halfway to glance behind you quickly, but you could see nothing. Turning your head forward, you quickly caught up to the group, and realized you were passing by the trailer park. 

You found yourself stopping to stare at Eddie’s trailer. You remembered the many times you had been there. It was raining, you had no car, and Eddie’s place was close to the school, so the two of you went to his trailer to seek shelter and you made a true delicacy for the two of you: buttered noodles.

He loved your buttered noodles, said there was something extra special about the way you made them. Honestly, it was probably the cholesterol talking.

Then, there was the time he wanted to help you get better with your fighting techniques in the campaign, so he basically tutored you in how to fight in Dungeons and Dragons on his own free time. He accepted payment in the form of, naturally, buttered noodles and other food and treats you’d bring for him.

Eddie was seen as the scary outcast at school, but he was so sweet. He had such a big heart. He was silly, and goofy, and so very misunderstood by everyone who didn’t have the privilege to know him. While he did partake in a few extracurricular activities that were far from legal, he always respected your level of comfort around drugs. So, sometimes, it was you, sober Eddie, and your favorite slasher movie of the week until one of the kids came along, banging on the trailer door, wanting to hang out.

You sucked in a breathe and shook your head, reminding yourself that you were there on a mission. You looked over to the group and saw that they were also stopped and looking around, like they had seen something you thought you sensed earlier. Sighing to yourself, you made your way over to them only to see the bats flying above like a bad omen.

“Everyone take cover!” Steve shouted.

Everyone split for cover to hide from the bats looming overhead. You and Dustin were closer to a few busted up cars, and you went and hid in them. As you were watching the strange flight pattern of the bats above you before they flew away into the distance, Dustin was sitting in the front seat of another car and staring in the direction of where he had found Eddie the last time he was there.

Suddenly, the door to the car he was in had been yanked open, and Dustin was yanked out of the car by his jacket. He fell to the ground in a heap and screamed as he felt himself be dragged across the ground. You quickly threw open your own door and ran around the car to Dustin.

Dragging him was a figure in armor the color of gunmetal with gold accents and trim. He wore a headpiece that resembled a dragon’s head, from what you could tell from behind, at least, a massive shield bearing a dragon, and a long broadsword that looked as menacing as the rest of him did. You were not prepared to fight someone in full armor like this, not at all, but Dustin needed you.

You ran forward and jumped in the air, hoping a dropkick to his back would, at least, knock him over. It didn’t, but it definitely made him stumble and let go of Dustin to address the other threat, you. The man turned slightly and bashed his shield against you with such force that it knocked you off your feet the second you were up and left you flat on the ground.

“Get help,” you wheezed as you rolled to the side and narrowly dodged the blade coming down at you.

“I won’t leave you!” Dustin shouted as he used his spear to try to pierce the man’s armor from behind, only for it to break into pieces in his arms.

The armored man turned again to Dustin and used the shield to block Dustin’s next swing with the broken spear, breaking it once again and leaving him with nothing but a stub to use. Dustin’s eyes widened in horror as he looked up at the man whose face couldn’t even be seen under the dark shadows the helmet produced.

“Run, Dustin, run!” You shouted as you stood up, a flaming arrow aimed at the man’s back. 

Dustin took off running to get the rest of the gang, and you fired off arrows as you walked backwards. With every arrow that hit him, it bounced off of his armor and did nothing but fall to the ground. He used his shield to block them, and when he was close enough ,he raised his blade and swung. You tried to block it with your bow, only for his sword to slice the bow right down the middle. 

With the bow now broken in two, you jumped back and tossed the halves aside before reaching for your machete. You brought it up quickly to deflect one of his swings. At this point, you were just desperately trying to bat off everything he threw at you. You weren’t nearly as concerned with trying to land a blow as you were with trying not to suffer one. 

He swiped at your midsection, causing you to lean forward as your hips jutted out behind you to miss the blade. He took advantage of this and slammed your side with the shield twice, the first time to hurt you, the second time to knock you over. While you were on the ground he raised his blade to slice you in half. Now you were desperate. You weren’t sure if the machete could take another hit and block the blade. Honestly, you were surprised that it even held up as long as it did.

You chucked the machete at his head. It hit the tip of the dragon’s mouth on the helmet he wore, and it sent it tumbling down his backside. 

The face that you saw under that helmet took your breath away. Your eyes widened, your heart stopped, you swore you lost control of your bowels as you looked up into the darkened eyes of Eddie Munson.

“Eddie, wait!” You screamed and put your hands in front of you to protect yourself. His blade came within an inch of your hands as he was frozen in his place, staring at you, a conflicted look in his eyes as he hovered above you, ready to deliver the swing of death at any moment.

Scrambling, you tore off your hat and tossed it to the side. You quickly wiped the warpaint off of your face as you scooted backwards from him, stopping only when the blade went into the ground right beside your head in a threatening manner. You swallowed the lump in your throat as tears burned your eyes and you gazed at the man you were helplessly in love with. “Eddie, Eddie, wait, it’s me, it’s Y/N. You remember me, right, Eddie? Please.”

~*~

Seeing how close you were to getting your head chopped off, Hopper stopped everyone from moving forward for fear of pushing this man to finish the job, much to Dustin’s dismay. However, when everyone got a closer look at who it was that you were fighting, well, Robin’s hands came up to cover her mouth while Dustin felt tears prick his eyes.

“Is that —“

Nancy’s question was interrupted by Dustin’s revelation.

“Eddie the Banished,” Dustin breathed. “Eddie’s Kas. Eddie is Kas. Eddie is Kas!”

“Okay, dickhead, who the fuck is Kas?" Steve shouted.

“Kas the Betrayer! The key to stopping Vecna!”

~*~

“Please, Eddie, please. Don’t hurt me, you know me. You know me, right? Y/N, the buttered noodles?” You shouted all in one breath as you felt you were at his mercy beneath him. “Please, Eddie, I love you. Whatever this is, just snap out of it, please! Come back to us Eddie, come back to me!”

Eddie’s gaze softened. He blinked a few times as the darkness bled away from his eyes, instead replaced by the familiar glimmer you were so used to seeing. A smirk formed on his lips as he gazed down at you, “So, a fella’s just gotta die and become a puppet to get a girl to admit that she’s head over heels, madly in love with him, huh?”

You blinked, “What the fuck?”

Eddie planted the shield in the ground and extended his arm to you. When you grabbed it, he yanked you up with so much strength that you were surprised when you were upright and stumbling into his chest. Your hands came upon his shoulders before they moved up and cupped his face, hands cradling his cheeks as you held his head still and really, truly studied him.

Tears fell from your eyes as you stared into his. Your voice cracked after you sniffled and tried to calm down, “Eddie? Oh, fuck, if this is Vecna, just do it —“

“No, no, no, no, it’s me, it’s me,” Eddie said quickly, his hands bracing against your back and holding you close to him. “I’m sorry. It just feels like I’ve been down here for so long, I, I wasn’t thinking. I’ve, I’ve been alone for so long, and all these voices, man, they —“

“What are you talking about?” You blurted out. “God, Eddie, how are you even alive?”

“Pfft, no thanks to that guy,” He muttered. “I uh, I think I was gone. Then I, I heard a voice asking if I wanted to live, and, well, duh, of course I do.”

“Then what,” you pressed.

“It said, ‘rise, puppet, and follow your new master.’” Eddie shook his head as the memory haunted him. “I don’t know how long it’s been down here since that happened. I, I can barely remember the things I’ve done, but, but not too long ago this other voice started telling me to rise again, to betray my master —“

“Vecna?”You questioned, watching him nod hesitantly. “Okay. And then?”

“And then I tried killing you and Dustin until you knocked my helmet off, and I finally could see you….and you said you loved me, Y/N. You love me? Really? Me, of all people?”

You choked on a laugh as you grabbed his shoulders and shook him, “Yes, you of all people! God, Eddie Munson, you’re so…”

“What? Stupid?” Eddie asked. “A total pussy for following the bad guy because he wanted to live?”

“Brave,” you smiled. “Eddie, you are a hero. You’re my hero. C’mere.”

Eddie the Banished was absolutely flushed when you pressed your lips against his. Hell, the man squeaked in surprise and stood absolutely still, like if any movement from him would ruin this moment. He couldn’t believe it was actually happening. 

Eddie was so head over heels for you that he couldn’t possibly say in words how deeply in love with you he was. When he was dying, all he could think about was all the things you’d never done together, how he never told you how he felt, how he dreamed about ending campaign sessions early to kick those little sheep out and spend all night with you, whether that involved kissing, sex, or just listening to music together.

Eddie had it bad for you, so much so, he really couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Oh, I must be dead,” Eddie murmured when you pulled away, “Because this is only the stuff of my dreams.”

“You dream of dying, coming back to life, nearly killing me, and then me kissing you?”

“On particularly freaky nights, yes,” he joked, a goofy grin plastering itself on his face.

You sighed and wrapped your arms around him tightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you two held each other while the rest of your misfit crew began to make their way over to you, screaming his name and shouting questions that would need to be answered again and again.

[indouloureux]

hey friend, how do u think eddie would act when reader is like super nice to him, trying to strike conversations with him and seemingly flirting but he thinks reader isn’t actually flirting. but then it turns out that the whole cast (you know, steve, robin, nancy, the kids) know that reader’s had this huge crush on him since foreverrr, probably even from back when his hair was buzz.

and like, the crush is essentially not mutual but- i just try to imagine how he would act about it. like idk the idea came to me while listening to eddie my love, especially the line don’t make me wait too long.

because that might be reader thinking oh well he knows, now i’ve got nothing to lose so why deny it. and eddie was always like “ur so nice to me always i can’t tell if you’re just being nice or flirting w me” and reader’s like “i’ve never been nice to you👀” lmao not me writing this long ass crap paragraph and being embarrassed by it and making it small so it won’t look as long lol

hdksjsksn i love this idea! thank u for your request and this blurb may be longer than it should be <3

"honestly, steve, you have been annoying the living shit out of me since we drove all the way back at my house and i swear to god if i had a knife—"

"i'm just saying, (y/n)!" he argues. "you can't just always act super nice to him and let yourself mope around when he thinks you're being friendly. you should tell him the truth."

"yeah don't listen to him," robin pokes her head in the middle of your seats. "he doesn't know shit about advice. he only flirts and fucks."

"i don't flirt and fuck. i flirt and make love and date."

"right, say that to the last girl," she snorts. steve rolls his eyes at her through the rearview and pivots his car. "all i'm saying is just let him take a hint. like me! all i do is act friendly and wait for vickie to notice that i like her."

"which won't happen because she doesn't know you're into girls," you turn to look at her, seatbelt burning against your neck. "she's just as oblivious as eddie."

"okay, ignore that, my point is—" her hands are wide, open as they drag across her face and tug on the collar of her shirt. "just wait until eddie notices that you like him. if he does, yay happy heterosexual relationship! if he doesn't, well it sucks to be you."

you look down at your hands, pushing at your cuticles and turning the rings in your fingers. especially the one that looks like eddie's. "he won't notice," you mumble. "he doesn't feel the same way. maybe i should just tell him."

"yes!" "no!"

looking bemused at the both of them, you huff and shake your head, crossing your arms, feeling your heart pound against your chest once you see the roof of hawkins high appear with the rest of the people. "it's hopeless. i'm gonna die alone."

"don't say that," steve tuts. "there are plenty of guys out there. or i don't know, girls! you might be into girls too. i mean, i like boobies. robin likes boobies. maybe you like boobies." he babbles. "everyone likes boobies! who wouldn't?"

"if you say the word 'boobies' one more time, i will—oh hey, eddie!"

your eyes trail over eddie's tall figure, walking towards your car with a hand raised as a greeting. your unbuckle your seatbelt, fast and excited, sensing steve's eyeroll and presses the button to unfasten your seatbelt when you fail to do so. it snaps back in place, leather burning your neck but you're too distracted to care.

eddie's hand removes itself from his pocket and opens the door for you. a hand on top of the car as he bends over to greet everyone inside. "hey robin. harrington," he nods at him. "hi (y/n)."

the words die in your throat, especially when he offers his hand to you and you mentally decide if he's asking for your hand or a high-five. you smile nervously, smacking your palm against his and taking the bag from between your legs.

"hey, eddie,"

"do you mind if i walk you in?" he offers. but his hand lingers in the air and you can see the red mark starting to form. like an idiot, you hand him your bag and shake your head.

he frowns, befuddled, moves away when your feet steps out onto the gravel and leave the car. you glare at steve and robin, but wave them a goodbye nonetheless as eddie shuts the door behind you, slinging his bag over your shoulder.

"so, um, thanks for picking me up," you pull on your finger, hopefully pushing all the nerves aside as he looks down at you, hair blown by the early wind of monday. "i mean, from steve's car. you didn't have to do that,"

his arm moves a bunch of people away from the entrance, pushing the door open and lets you in first before he follows as he says. "nah, it's no big deal. wanted to pick you up anyway. y'know, as a thanks. a token of...gratitude."

eddie walks you to your locker, five lockers away from yours and watches you open the first pocket of your bag that he's holding, taking out the small keys. you open the metal door, your head tilted a bit to the back as you talk to him. "it's no biggie, eddie. i just..."

— like you. say it. 'i just like you'. it's just four words.

"i'm just being a friend."

coward.

you carefully take your bag from him, slinging it over your shoulder as he places a hand on the locker beside yours, squeezing his nose for a second. "yeah. yeah sometimes you're just too nice to me and i can't tell if you're flirting with me or you're just being nice."

your smile falls a little, and you try to stop yourself from slapping your own face as you snort. "nice? i've never been nice to you."

eddie shakes his head. "you helped me paint the little figurines for dnd. you kicked carver in the balls when he threatened me. you go to my shows, you talk to me a lot, you're never mad at me but i always see you stopping yourself from strangling steve harrington—"

"i'm nice to you because you're my friend," you pat his shoulder. "you need all the niceness you can get anyway."

and when he tells you a short thanks, patting your hand that's on his shoulder, your eye twitches. you don't want to slap yourself anymore, and you want to shake him vigorously and ask him why he's so goddamn oblivious.

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

[fbfh]

lesson learned (maybe) - billy hargrove x reader x steve harrington smut

word count: 4.1k

genre: SMUT FILTH LEMONIEST LEMON

pairing: billy and steve x reader (afab/fem terminology/she her but minimal pronoun usage)

summary: When you inadvertantly cop an attitude, Billy and Steve decide to fuck a little respect into you.

warnings: dom billy, softer dom steve, manhandling, multiple daddys, reader is called a brat, spanking, billy's rings, strenth kink (if that exists), vaginal fingering, anal fingering, dumbification, some babying/infantalization, sexy condescending, petnames (princess, angel, honey bunny, pooh bear, good girl, love bug, doll face, sugar lips, toots, ), steve's chest hair <3, billy's necklace <3, "don't look at him, look at me, face grabbing, prolonged eye contact, hair/top of head petting (in a condesending way not a long silky tresses way), sexy punishments, mentions of orgasm denial/edging/overstimulation, hearing smwn get undressed behind you, mostly clothed sex, head down ass up position, praise, reader has fuck me eyes, coochie spreading, hair pulling, mouth fucking/m recieving oral, cervix kissing, spitroasting, double penetration, face fucking, breeding (it's billy ofc there's breeding), attention kink????, clit play/rubbing, checking on your partner during intense sex, surprise (but still fully consetual) anal, some feral billy, cum as lube, emotional intimacy, steve has sensitive hair, choking/neck grabbing for a hot second, nipple/boob play, groping, neck kisses and hickeys, a lot of dirty talk, multiple orgasms, aftercare, kisses and cuddles, sleeping sammiched between two hot buff men (the dream), implications of future bratty reader

music rec: masochist - palaye royale (I didn't have a specific song I was listening to while writing this it was just a lot of underground krnb and the same two pop punk groups but I feel like this fits pretty well)

a/n: holy fucking shit this got off the rails so fast I think it might actualy be worse than daddy sorry

use my discount code opneedstherapy for 10% off holy water lol

ALSO HAPPY STRANGER THINGS 4 V1!!!!!!! I hope this doesn't wreck all of us like I know it will lmao

tags: @yesv01 @hopefullhearts @littlewinter1917 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl  @Sad-brunnettee @justbookworm

AS WITH ALL NSFW WORKS ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP TO 18+!!!!! Also everything that happens in this fic is totally consentual and bc it's fiction it doesn't follow all the real life rules and ettiquete so make sure irl you're communicating with your partners and taking care of each other <3

You think you’ve come to know Billy and Steve pretty well in the time you’ve spent together, and right now, just by the look on his face, you can tell things with Billy are about to get really intense. 

“Did you just give me attitude?”

“What?” you ask, meeting his intense gaze, heart beating faster at his words. Billy’s voice is dangerous, causing you to freeze in your tracks. “No, I-” “Cause that sounded like attitude.” He concludes, voice almost too calm, too quiet. He’s watching you, waiting for your next move. You take too long, you suppose, because before you know it, Billy’s throwing you over his shoulder and storming straight to the bedroom. 

“Billy!” you protest, fighting a flustered giggle.

“You wanna act like a brat?” he asks rhetorically, starting to set you down, eyes burning into yours, “I’ll show you what happens to brats who give their daddies attitude.” After that moment of intense, lingering eye contact, he sits on the edge of the bed, and bends you over his lap. 

“Billy-” your protest wilts in your throat as he lands a smack to your ass, sending burning heat straight to your core. It’s a warning to behave, and one that you listen to. 

“You wanna try that again?” he asks, voice low and dangerous. Your silence is deafening. You stop squirming against him, and he accepts that as you submitting to him, finally listening to your daddy like a good girl should. 

“Good,” he states, seeming more calm than before now that you’re listening to him. “Now count.” He orders, that stern, dominant edge right back in his voice. You feel him flip up your skirt and pull down your panties, laying another harsh smack to your ass. The feeling of his big hands and cold rings against your bare, warm flesh sends heat and sticky arousal pooling against your exposed slit. You whimper, embarrassed at how fast he has you wrapped around his finger. His other hand presses between your shoulder blades, holding you firmly in place. He’s so jacked it’s not like he can’t manhandle you when he wants to. 

“I said,” he repeats, hand still on your ass, fingers beginning to rub at your dripping, puffy cunt, “count.”  

“C’mon, don’t be so mean, Billy,” you look up - as much as you’re able to in your current position - at Steve, who’s just entered the room. Relief washes over you. Steve’s presence has always been able to soften some of Billy’s rougher edges, and you can always count on him to play the good cop. Before you can let out your sigh of relief, Steve crouches down to your level, looking at you with that sweet, saccharine look of his. 

“Dumb little baby can’t even count, can you, princess?” 

His voice is cloying and condescending as he grabs your cheeks, squishing them with one hand, and makes you shake your head no. 

“That’s what I thought.” he states, patting your cheek, and standing up to address Billy. “See? Not fair.” 

You stare at the carpet where he stands for a moment, before he walks back toward the bed. If Steve isn’t going easy on you, you’re going to be in for a really, really long night. This thought, paired with his words and condescending tone has you dripping all over Billy’s fingers, something you’re sure he won’t let you live down. 

You assume Steve had some kind of exchange with Billy, because a moment later, Billy picks you up, and sets you down, kneeling on the foot of the bed. Steve is reclining in front of you, splayed out and bulging in his pants. The first few buttons of his shirt are undone, and you can see his chest hair poking through on the exposed skin not covered by his tank top. He curls his fingers, motioning for you to crawl towards him, and you do without a thought. “Princess,” he starts, “what you did was real disrespectful, real naughty,” he amends, dumbing down his choice of words. “Do you understand?” he asks, waiting for your response. You nod. 

“Apologize to Billy.” he says, nodding over in his direction. You turn back to Billy, also rock hard in his pants. His button up is almost entirely open, and aside from the necklace resting on his collar bones, his chest is bare. You look up at him, his eyes smoldering into yours, and turn away. You can feel him watching you, expectant, and you look back up at him. 

“Sorry Billy,” you say quietly. 

He sighs, looking away for a second, then right back at you with that same intense eye contact. “...Sorry for what.”

It should be a question, but it’s a statement, an order. You blanch, mind going blank. You turn back to Steve, but before you can, Billy grabs your face, making you look back at him. 

“Don’t look at him.” he warns, keeping your attention where he wants it, “What are you sorry for?”

“Billy…” Steve sighs, unsaid words hanging in the air. Don’t be so hard on you, you’re too dumb to understand what’s going on. They share a glare, and you only see Billy’s half of the silent conversation. Finally, he looks back down at you. He seems slightly softer than before, but still just as intense. He crouches down to your eye level, voice low and deliberate. 

“I’m going to ask one more time, sugar lips. What are you sorry for?” 

You blink, brain short circuiting as you try desperately to scramble for an answer. God, you swear it’s on the tip of your tongue. A few moments pass with you giving him an adorable blank look, struggling for an answer. He looks like he’s about to give up when you manage to choke something out.

“Being disrespectful?” you ask, watching his reaction closely. He smirks, holding back a chuckle. 

“For being disrespectful.” Billy repeats, seeming satisfied with your answer. He leans down, pressing a hot kiss to your lips, then nodding his head for you to go back to Steve. You turn to him, and he pats the bed. You start to crawl over, and as you turn around, Billy places another affectionate smack on your still exposed ass. You can feel yourself dripping, and he smirks at the sticky arousal left on his hand. 

Once you get closer to Steve, he has you lay between his legs. Your face is dangerously close to his bulge as he begins to pet your hair. 

“Wow, disrespectful,” he says, voice both loving and cloyingly patronizing, “that’s a big girl word, isn’t it?” you nod, and he smiles, agreeing, “Yeah. Can you spell disrespectful?” he asks slowly.

“Uh…” you start, thoughts foggy from all the attention and coddling they’ve been giving you. Before you can try, Steve continues. 

“I didn’t think so.” he states, “That’s okay, though, good girls don’t need to be good at spelling, not when they listen to their daddies.”

His voice instantly makes you feel more relaxed, and he continues to pat your head absentmindedly. He has another silent conversation with Billy, but this time, you only see Steve’s side. He rolls his eyes before turning his attention back to you. 

“That was a good sorry you said to Billy, good job, angel.” 

He smiles, and you start to relax. You’re just starting to think you got away with avoiding one of Billy’s insane punishments - usually involving a lot of orgasm denial, edging, and overstimulation, and will go on for hours until you can’t even remember your own name. Right then, Steve’s hand moves from your hair to your face, guiding you to look up at him. You hear the unmistakable noise of Billy undoing his belt behind you, and beginning to take off his pants.

“Unfortunately, you did misbehave, so we’re still going to have to punish you.” 

Your pupils dilate and you feel the weight of the bed shift behind you as Billy moves closer. He grabs your hips, hoisting them up and back to him so you’re bent over ass up, groping your  squishy flesh with his big strong hands, as Steve simultaneously thrusts his hips up to slide down his jeans and boxers enough to pull out his cock. It hangs in front of you, red and dripping precum, and your mouth waters at the sight. Steve grabs your face with one hand, squishing your cheeks, and holding his throbbing cock in the other.

“Open up, honey bunny…” he tantalizes, letting out a long sigh as you sink your soft, warm, beautiful mouth over his cock. He lets out a low moan.

“Oh, there’s a good girl, good girl, pooh bear…” His cock is massive, already pulsing and dripping delicious precum down your throat. The familiar feeling, taste, weight of his cock in your mouth drags you even deeper into the hazy warmth of their embrace. Right as you’re starting to get comfortable groping and sucking of Steve’s cock, right when his hands have found their place in your hair and his head is tilted back, eyes angled down to watch you suck him off with that loving smile at the corners of his mouth, right when you bat your pretty little doe eyes that just scream fuck me daddy up at him, Billy plunges two of his long, thick fingers deep inside your dripping, burning heat, spreading you open. 

You let out a choked moan at the sensation of Billy’s fingers keeping your dripping heat on full display, causing Steve’s cock to twitch inside you. He tugs on your hair to keep you focused. You look back up at Steve, trying to keep your attention on working your mouth around his cock, hungry for more praise from his pretty lips. Behind you, Billy curls his fingers against your sensitive walls, waking you up from the inside. He lets out a long, low whistle, admiring you all spread out for him.

“Fucking dripping…” he muses, and you can practically see the smirk on his face from his tone alone. 

“‘Course she is,” Steve interjects, agreeing, “look at her.” He watches you suckle his cock, eyes half lidded, drool and precum pooling at the corners of your mouth. Billy continues, voice low as he works his fingers deeper inside you, rubbing at your bumpy walls 

“Tell daddy how much you love his fingers, princess…” 

You try, gurgling around Steve’s cock, and he lets out a sharp moan, gripping your hair even harder. Billy chuckles, and Steve glares at him in a warning. Billy continues, chuckling as he stretches you out in preparation for you to take his massive cock. His fingers reach so deep inside you, touching places you never could have imagined before knowing him. He scissors your spongy walls with his thick fingers, his hands so strong that even your tightness provides little resistance against him. Steve sighs, still gripping your hair as he slowly starts to buck his hips in and out of your mouth, helping you along as you bob your head.

“Just like that,” Steve moans, gazing down at you, “good girl, pooh bear…” 

“God your tight little cunt dripping for me, dollface,” Billy states, yet again landing a smack on your ass. He chuckles as you flutter around him. 

“You like when Stevie praises you like that?” Billy asks, scissoring your walls, once again deeply stretching you in preparation for your cock. You gurgle around Steve, who bucks his hips at the sensation.

“Oh, you just love this, don’t you princess?” Steve asks rhetorically, as Billy suddenly, finally plunges his cock into your dripping cunt. Your eyes roll back in your head as Billy works his thick, pulsing cock closer and closer to your cervix. He lets out a growling moan, panting and  adjusting to how tight you are, how perfectly you squeeze and rub his cock.

“Look at you, all pretty and full of cock,” Steve coos. You barely process what he said, that deep satisfaction of really being full still settling over you. Billy has one hand pressing down on your back, the other grabbing your hip and holding it close to him as he starts fucking into you at a brutal pace, while Steve holds your head nice and steady, doing the same thing from the front. 

“You like that, sugar lips? Like it when daddy wrecks you with his cock?” Billy growls behind you, hand pressing against your stomach. The extra pressure and friction, paired with the feeling of the bulge he’s making in your tummy has you squeezing around him.

“Good job, princess… keep going, just like that…” Steve moans, voice breathy.

“Fuckin’ made for taking our cocks.” Billy agrees.

“Such a good girl for your daddies, angel.”

“Pretty thing like you just loves being bent over and bred, don’t you, dollface?”

All the attention, their continued torrent of filthy thoughts, and their cocks continuing to pound into you mercilessly from both ends has you squeezing and drooling around them. The erratic rhythm of their thrusts, sometimes in sync sometimes not, brings you drastically closer than before. Billy’s hand moves from his bulge pounding in and out of your tummy further down, and his fingers, still damp with your earlier arousal, begin playing with your clit. 

The added stimulation has you gurgling around Steve’s cock, yet again. Billy feels you tighten up around him, and he knows you’re close. He gives Steve a look, then bends over you, leaning closer to your ear. You can feel the cool metal of his necklace graze your back with every thrust. 

“You gonna cum for daddy, sugar?” Billy asks, and you can tell by the pace of his thrusts, the growl in his voice, the way he almost laughs at the end that all this is really riling him up. 

“Oh, is baby gonna make a big mess all over Billy’s cock?” Steve coos, punctuating with a particularly hard thrust into your mouth. 

Before you can even moan, you’re cumming hard. You clamp down around Billy’s cock, holding him in place while his hand carries you through your high, the other groping your hip. Your legs shake, and you moan, gurgling around Steve’s cock. They shower you in more praise and filthy sentiments, but it falls on deaf ears as you’re so blinded by your euphoria you lose your senses for a minute. Once you start to come back down to earth, you feel Steve scratch your head, and you glance up at him, eyes glassy.

“Still with us, love bug?” he asks. You nod, and you continue sucking on his cock, causing him to let out a hiss of air. “Good,” he concludes, proud of how well you’re trained, how fast you can bounce back, “cause we still have a lot to do tonight, don’t we, Billy?”

He agrees, and he’s soon back to the brutal pace he’d set before, this time amplified by the sensitivity from your orgasm. A little voice in the back of your mind is starting to wonder where the whole punishment part will come in. As intense and amazing as this is, you know it’s not what Steve, much less Billy, would qualify as a punishment. 

As all that is brewing in the back of your mind, you can feel Billy’s cool rings on your skin as he gathers up some of your sticky cum dripping out of your hole. Your eyes widen as he spreads your cheeks, and begins to rub it further up. Heat rushes to your face as he edges you, cock continuing to plunge in and out of you lower down. Behind you, you hear his voice, breathy and gravely and more turned on than you’ve ever heard it. 

“Gotta make sure you’re all stretched out everywhere, sugar lips,” he moans, rubbing against your puckered hole. He teases you, edging the sensitive flesh before popping his finger in, and lets out an unhinged laugh. 

“F-fuck, Harrington. You were right, she’s even tighter now…” Billy says with a moan.

“What did I tell you? If we- shit,” Steve cuts himself off as you mouth him more intensely in response to Billy fingering your ass while he fucks you. You moan around Steve, and Billy growls behind you. He picks up his pace, rubbing against your walls, fingering your honey even deeper into your previously untouched hole. He can feel his finger rubbing against his cock through the squishy wall barely separating them. You’re whining at his touch, rutting your hips back against his cock, as Steve thrusts steadily into your mouth. 

“Aww, does our slutty little baby like being stuffed full in every hole?” he purrs. Before you can consider trying to answer, he thrusts into your mouth, harder and faster than before. Billy works another finger into your previously untouched hole, both tightening around him at the entrance. His free hand slaps your ass, then returns to press into your back to stop you from squirming so much. 

“You like that, sugar lips?” Billy pants, smirking behind you. In front of you, Steve’s thrusts grow sloppy, and he pulls at your hair. 

“F-fuck, shit!” Steve hisses, pulling you closer to his hips as he finally spills his load down your throat. He tastes divine, and you work your tired jaw, swallowing as much of him as you can. He lets out a loud moan, throwing his head back and bucking into your soft mouth. His thick seed spills out of the corners of your mouth, and once he catches his breath, he finally pulls out of your mouth with a wet pop. He gazes at you with that loving look, a smirk at the corners of his lips.

“You really are something special, you know that?”

A strand of your spit mixed with his cum connects your lips to the head of his cock for a moment as you look up at him, tongue lolled out and panting. You’re truly a sight to behold. Caressing the side of your face, he swipes off some of the cum from the corner of our mouth, holding up his hand and letting it drip for Billy to see. He humps into you harder, working his fingers deep into your ass, and lets out a groan at the sight of Steve’s cum and your spit dripping from his finger. 

“Shit! Playing dirty, Harrington…” he moans with a laugh. Billy pulls out of you suddenly, moving to the side and pulling your face towards his cock. You open automatically, and he smiles at how well trained you are. You take his throbbing length into your mouth, tasting yourself on his skin. After just a few pumps, he’s grabbing your face, pulling you closer to his hips as he blows his load down your throat. You swallow up his thick, creamy seed while his eyes burn into yours, watching every move you make. He pants, gaze unwavering. 

“...Such a good girl for me,” he says slowly, smirking down at you. Your eyes flutter shut, and you lean into his touch, his hands caressing your face, while Steve’s find their way to your hair again. Reluctantly, Billy pulls away, finally standing up and stretching. His muscles glisten, a thin sheen of sweat over his tan skin. Once again, he hoists you up effortlessly, and you let out a very cute noise of surprise.

“Up you go, doll face,” he says, wrapping your legs up high on his torso. Steve groans behind you, presumably stretching too, then you feel him press up against your back, pushing you closer to Billy and folding you in half. One of Billy’s hands rests on your ass, holding you up, and Steve’s arm snakes around to your chest, fondling your tits. 

“Alright,” Steve says, “now that she’s all stretched out…” You feel the heads of their cocks kiss your entrances. Billy smirks, his gaze smoldering and voice low.

“It’s time for your punishment, sugar lips.”

They both push their huge cocks into your tight holes. 

You’re overwhelmed by the sensation, already so sensitive from your previous orgasm, that the feeling of both their cocks fucking into you at once like this has your head spinning in the best way possible. Before you can dwell on that for too long, Steve begins nibbling on your ear and sucking a hickey into your neck, causing you to moan. 

“G-god,” you breathe, both your walls already tightening around them, as you try not to cum already. If you came undone this fast they would never let you hear the end of it. 

“Right here, toots,” Billy says, hand on your jaw, guiding you to look at him. His eyes burn into yours, and he smirks at the fucked out look on your face. Your stomach is pressed up against Billy’s abs, and you can feel the bulge of his cock, amplified by Steve’s cock fighting for space inside you. They press and rub against each other, throbbing against your warm, grippy walls. They soon settle into a rhythm that has you whining and squirming fruitlessly against their muscular bodies. 

“Good girl, good girl, baby,” Steve murmurs, as Billy continues to hold your eye contact. Desperate for something to hold onto, you reach back, pulling on Steve’s hair. 

“Oh f-fuck!” Steve moans, hips spasming and bucking into your ass. You whine at the motion and Billy laughs at his reaction. Steve moves his mouth dangerously close to your ear and his hand moves to your neck. 

“Play fair if you want to cum, angel,” he warns, almost laughing at how good that felt. He makes a mental note to have you do it again more, later, as they both continue to pound into you and feel you up. You’re surprised you’ve lasted this long, but you know it’s over when Steve starts playing with your nipples, pinching and rubbing them in that way that he knows makes heat pool between your legs. You gasp, and Billy takes the opportunity to place two of his fingers in your mouth. You hear Steve chuckle against your skin.

“Look at you with Billy’s fingers in your mouth, so pretty,” Steve coos in your ear, sending chills down your spine. It’s enough to send you over the edge again, and you moan out a muffled whine, squeezing and clamping around them, your legs shaking in their place around Billy’s waist. 

You’re not sure how long it goes on for, and by the time that they shoot their last load of hot, sticky cum up both your holes, you’ve lost count of how many orgasms they’ve drawn out of you.

“Shit!” Steve hisses, continuing to fuck his cum deeper inside your ass, stretching you out and pumping you full “Oh god!” His moans are loud in spite of the fact that they’re partially muffled by his face in your neck. Finally, Billy follows suit, blowing his load inside your dripping pussy for the last time tonight. His eyes burn into yours as he moans out a laugh, hips bucking sporadically. 

“F-fuck- just love being bred and stuffed in every hole, don’t you doll face?” his breath is warm against your face as he continues his torrent of filthy thoughts, riding out his high, “Huh?” He coaxes, “Want me and Harrington to fuck a baby into you? Knock you up real good…”

Eventually, somehow they run out of stamina, the thrusting of their cocks slowing down and finally coming to a stop, where they pull out of you with more gratuitously wet noises than you’ve ever heard. You rest your head on Billy’s chest, totally spaced out, only able to briefly muse that they were successful in fucking you until you can’t think straight. 

When you’re all cleaned up, they curl up in bed on either side of you, Steve pulling you close to his bare chest, Billy’s grip on your waist rock strong. He guides you to look over at him, to which you comply, and he catches your mouth in another deep, open mouthed kiss.

“I think you learned your lesson, didn’t you doll face?” He asks, taking a moment to gaze at you lovingly. You nod, humming in response before curling up into Steve’s chest. They both settle against you, sandwiching you tightly between their warm, muscular bodies. “Eh, she’s not going to act up like that again,” Steve concludes, patting your hip, and Billy chuckles.

“Got that right.” 

In the few moments before you almost instantaneously fall asleep, you think you might just act up like that again. Especially if it leads to this much fun.