#Steve Condos | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chestharrington · 7 months

Text

Girls On Film || Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve's absentee parents gift him a camcorder for graduation. What better way to find out how it works than making a sex tape?

Couple: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Content Warnings: explicit smut (f!receiving oral, handjob, p in v sex ft. girl on top), sex on camera, filming a sex tape, lovey-dovey adorable dorks in love

Word Count: 3.7k

Your heart soared with pride as Steve walked off the football field towards you, wearing a goofy-looking gown and graduation cap. As soon as he reached you, he lifted you up and gave you a tiny spin, smiling ear to ear.

“You’re looking at a college grad,” he said with a smug smile after he put you down. You beamed at him as he lifted his hand and showed off the shiny gold class ring. “I’m never taking this thing off.”

You grinned, tugging at the graduation gown. “What about this thing? You willing to take this off for me?” You smiled wryly and pressed a kiss on his cheek.

A throat cleared behind you both and you turned, looking at the party and Robin standing with various levels of disgust evident on their faces.

Robin wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Keep it in your pants, please. Or, I guess keep it in your large, nylon zippy robe.” She squeezed between you and kissed Steve on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Steve.”

Dustin stepped forward next and gave Steve a big hug— he’d hit a growth spurt since you last saw him and was nearly as tall as Steve. Lucas, Will, and Mike all offered their congratulations combined with complaints about how boring the ceremony was after they got through the H last names.

Max crossed her arms as El wheeled her over, trying her best to be nonchalant. “I can’t see you, but I know you look dumb in that stupid hat.” Steve gave a fake laugh, took the hat from his head, and placed it on hers. “Ew, it’s all sweaty, you jerk.” She smiled despite herself and held the hat against her chest.

Steve wrinkled his nose in a way that told you he was trying his best not to cry. You knew it meant a lot to him that they’d shown up.

“Why don’t we all go for lunch?” You suggested. “My treat.” Not wanting the reunion to end, and not wanting to turn down a free lunch, everyone piled into their cars and headed to Steve’s favorite place.

When you and Steve got into his car, you were greeted by the shrill sound of his car phone ringing. With a furrowed brow, he reached over and retrieved the bulky device from its bag and answered. Even from across the car, you could hear the tinny noise of his mother speaking on the phone.

“Yeah, the ceremony is over,” he said, jaw ticking. “I sent you both the invitation two months ago.” He looked over with an exasperated look, so you grabbed his hand to give a comforting squeeze. “Well, we’re all going to lunch if you can make it.”

You frowned, but didn’t say anything. Despite their apparent lack of care, you knew that he valued their approval and time.

“Oh. Right, I understand.” He sighed deeply. “Well, I appreciate it. Okay. Okay, bye.”

He hung up and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “They, uh, they got double booked. They’re in Buffalo for a conference right now.”

Your gaze softened at the sight of his disappointed expression. “I know they’re proud of you, Steve.” He nodded, but didn’t look entirely convinced. You pulled the hand intertwined with yours up and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles.

————

When you arrived at your shared condo, you were greeted by a gift-wrapped box on the porch. You had to help him carry it in through the door, huffing as you both dropped it onto your coffee table.

Steve shrugged off the graduation gown he was wearing and kneeled to unwrap the present. A large card taped to the top revealed the senders, as if that were in question.

“To our firstborn son— congratulations! Love, Mr and Mrs Harrington.” The emotionless text almost made you grimace. You’d never read something more blatantly written by a personal assistant in your life.

“Jesus,” he muttered as he tore away the wrapping to reveal the gift. “This thing must’ve cost a fortune.” You glanced over as he held up a plastic case and found nothing that might have revealed its contents.

“What is it?” You asked, kneeling down beside him and leaning in close. He popped open the case and held up a hulking piece of machinery.

“It’s a camcorder,” he said with a grin. “It’s the best one on the market.”

You raised your eyebrows and tried not to ask what he even needed one of those for. Video cameras were for new parents and aspiring filmmakers, not college grads.

Your own gift felt tiny in comparison, even though you’d been saving for a few months to afford it. Between rent for you and Steve’s condo, groceries, and gas for your cars, it wasn’t easy to have expendable cash to buy nice gifts with.

You stayed quiet as Steve marveled at the fancy gift, holding it up to his face like he was testing how it looked through the viewfinder.

“Gorgeous,” he said, peeking out at you. “I think I found my muse.” You scoffed and covered the camera with your hand even though it wasn’t charged.

“Plug it in and we’ll see how it works later,” you said. “For now… I have a gift for you.”

He sat up, wearing a grin. “Is it lingerie? Is it dinner at The Olive Garden? Is it a bubble bath?” He leaned in and nipped at your jaw teasingly. “C’mon, tell me—“

You giggled as he pinned you down on the rug, peppering kisses on your cheeks. “Steveeee,” you groaned. He finally stopped, hovering over you. “You’re such a spoiled brat.” That made him grin even more. He pecked your lips chastely, then sat back on his knees.

You scrambled to stand up and grinned. “Stay there, alright?” He nodded and you disappeared into your shared bedroom.

Hidden away in your bedside table was a glass trinket box you’d thrifted a few months ago. It was shaped like a heart, with little gold foil embellishments. You couldn’t leave without it. You knew the real gift was inside, but you still hoped that Steve would like the box.

Steve was fiddling with the camera when you stepped back into the living room, trying his best to plug it in to charge. When he saw you, though, he smiled and sat down on the couch, waiting for you to join him.

“It isn’t much,” you insisted as you handed it over. “I hope you like it though.”

He smiled and nudged your cheek with his nose. “Are you joking? This is adorable. I love it. I’m gonna keep all my important stuff in here.”

You smiled and shook your head. “Babe, open it.” He looked sheepish as he lifted the lid, then his expression softened. You watched with a fluttering in your chest as he lifted the chain from the box.

It took months to save up for real gold, and then for the pendants after. Two initials— his and yours. “If you don’t like it, I can take it back and get something you actually w—“

He cut you off with a quick kiss that made your head spin. “It’s perfect. Best gift I’ve ever gotten, hands down. And one year I got Yankees tickets behind the plate for my birthday.” He was quick to put it on, smiling over at you. “How do I look?”

You pecked his cheek. “A million bucks, babe.” He leaned in and gave you a real kiss— deep and intense. You smiled against his lips and melted into his touch. You’d never loved someone the way you loved him.

“Wanna know what’s crazy?” He said after he pulled away. You nodded and he gestured towards the bedroom. “I bought you something too. Stay here.”

You sat patiently as he got up and hurried into the bedroom. You heard scuffling and the sounds of moving drawers until he returned, holding a wooden box.

“Your gift is inside this, by the way,” he teased as he sat back beside you. You watched him with anticipation until he flipped it open and your heart stopped.

“So, uh, I got you jewelry too,” he said softly, or maybe your ears were just ringing.

Inside the box, nestled in the middle of a tiny silk pillow, was a diamond ring.

Like, a diamond ring. The kind you get married with.

“That’s—“

He nodded. “Yeah, it is,” he said, grinning ear to ear. “Will you marry me?”

In lieu of a verbal response, you put the ring on and kissed him like he was your one and only source of oxygen. It felt like it anyway— that if you parted from him even a little you’d cease to exist.

“Yes?” He asked, smiling nervously. “That’s a yes?”

You kissed him again. “It’s a yes, Steve. I wanna marry you.”

———

Steve forgot about the video camera in the excitement of the engagement. Because he had to call Robin’s hotel and let her know, and then she spilled the news to the party, and suddenly it felt like everyone from Hawkins was in the tiny condo.

After hours and hours of catching up and celebrating the day, you and Steve were left alone in a quiet house.

“So… the future Mrs. Steve Harrington…” you turned and rolled your eyes at the sight of Steve holding the video camera that had been charging all night. “Anything you want to say to the camera on the night of our engagement?”

“How do you know I’m not keeping my last name?” You asked as he got closer, putting the lens right in your face. You giggled and ducked out of the way as the lens came close to knocking against your nose. “You’re such a child.”

He grinned. “Alright, give me something to remember this night by. For posterity, baby.”

You smiled wickedly at him before lifting the hem of your shirt, flashing your tits at him and the camera. By the time you lowered your shirt back down, his mouth was ajar. “We are never showing anyone this video now.”

You grinned. “Nuh-uh, baby, this is all for you.” You raised your brows in a challenge and stepped into the bedroom, leaving him to hurry behind you with the clunky machine.

He stood in the doorway, camera focused on you as you slipped off your blouse and skirt. The whirring of machinery inside the camera indicated he was zooming in on your tits. You stifled a laugh at the noise as he zoomed out again, taking in all of you.

“Strip for me,” he directed behind the camera. You gave a wry grin as your thumbs slipped behind the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs slowly. “Fuck, you’re so sexy. Gonna put on a show for me?”

You settled on the bed on all fours, back arched as you crawled towards the headboard. Steve groaned at the sight, breath shuddering as you flipped around and spread your legs for him. Without needing instructions, you slipped one hand between your legs and let the other move to your chest, kneading your breast between your fingers.

He moved from the doorway— the magnetic pull of you too much to resist for long. He settled at the end of the bed, the camera so close it made butterflies swell in your tummy. He moved the camera to your hands, one between your legs, teasing your clit and dipping into the pool of arousal at your center, and the other toying with your nipples, the shiny diamond on the engagement ring glinting with each small movement.

“Christ, baby hold the camera—“ he said suddenly, passing it over to you. You laughed as he practically threw it into your hands and you had to scramble to turn it right side up.

You laughed as he tore off his clothes, probably popping some buttons here and there. “Steve, what are you— oh!”

Without hesitation, Steve buried his head between your thighs, moaning at the taste of your juices as he lapped at your pussy. It was a struggle to film him and enjoy the moment, especially since you had to watch him through the viewfinder. But something about capturing something so intimate on film made a thrill run through you.

“Fuck, Steve—“ you moaned, being more vocal than you normally would for the camera. Fuck the neighbors, honestly. It was your engagement night! “Your mouth feels so good, honey.”

His brown eyes peered up at you, at the camera, framed by pretty long lashes. His lips formed a seal around your clit and he sucked lightly, making your legs tremble. Your free hand moved to his hair, tangling in the soft locks as his mouth elicited gasps and moans.

A slick sheen had formed on the tip of his nose, his mouth, and chin from his ministrations. The sight made heat bloom in the pit of your stomach. His eyes fluttered closed as he lost himself in you— relishing in your sounds, your smell, your taste.

A light pat on your thigh was his wordless signal for you to move and accommodate him more. You acquiesced, spreading your legs as much as you were comfortably able to, and he let his fingertips tease at your center.

“Relax for me, baby,” he said, his words vibrating against your clit. He gave the bundle of nerves a light kiss before he looked up at you. “I’ve got you. Just…” He pushed his middle finger into you and you moaned low in your throat, instinctively pushing back against the intrusion. “That’s it. Just like that.”

He was always so gentle with you during foreplay— taking his time to really explore every single spot that he knew made you tick. You shuddered as the pad of his finger pressed against a particularly sensitive spot within you. He knew you like the back of his hand— probably better. He slid a second finger beside the first, coaxing moans and gasps from you as he gave all his attention to your clit and g-spot.

Your thighs trembled as you fought the instinct to close them around his head, the stimulation bordering on too much. The softness of his mouth on you, the press of his fingers against the most sensitive spot inside— making you cum was simply too easy for him. You barely had time to gasp out a breathy “I’m cumming—“ before your orgasm hit you. Your walls gripped his fingers like a vise as he worked you through it, muttering praise against your cunt before he withdrew his fingers completely.

You stared at the ceiling, trying to find your breath. “C’mere. It's your turn,” you said with a grin.

Steve simply shook his head. “Not done.” He moved his mouth back to your cunt, this time without the hungry ferocity. You sighed at the sensation, your legs twitching when the tip of his tongue brushed against your clit. His movements lost purpose with each pass of his tongue until he was practically making out with your pussy.

Your head fell back against the pillows, soft gasps slipping past your lips. Steve moaned against you as you tugged his hair, a furrow forming between his brows. So utterly lost in you that he hadn’t even noticed that he was rutting against the bed for friction.

“C’mere,” you said softly. He pressed a final, wet kiss to your pussy before resting his head on the plush of your thigh. Your stomach flipped as he licked his lips, chasing those last remnants of your taste. He pressed a soft kiss to your belly before crawling up to meet you.

The kiss you shared was hungry and slow. The camera was shoved to the side so you could put your mouth on his— tongues meeting, the tang of your arousal and his spit flooding your senses.

A low moan escaped his lips as your hand snaked between your two bodies, where you took his length into your hand and stroked slowly. His mouth fell open, a small furrow between his brows.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. You smiled up at him innocently and let your thumb glide across his tip. A full-body shiver overtook him, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. Steve was easy to love all the time, but especially when he was needy. “Switch spots with me.” When you furrowed your brows he nodded towards the camera. “Please?”

When he sat back on his heels, you moved from beneath him and let him settle with his back against the pillows. You were slightly annoyed that he had control of the camera, because goddamn. His thighs were bowed out slightly, cock resting against his stomach. The sight made your heart hammer as you straddled his thighs.

Steve took the camera back into his hands, a wide smile on his face. “Alright, just do what you were doing,” he instructed. “Left hand though.”

You glanced down at your hand and smiled softly. The engagement ring— your engagement ring— glinted up at you. You spit onto your hand and Steve groaned at the sight.

“Haven’t even touched you yet,” you teased.

“Don’t let me stop you.” His voice wavered, revealing just how needy he really was.

He cried out the moment your hand wrapped around his length, head tossed back against the headboard. His cock pulsed in your hand as it glided up and down, aching for more. You leaned down, spitting onto his tip, giving you more slickness to work with.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his chest heaving. You moved your right hand to his balls, kneading them as you focused your attention on the head. “Jesus, look at that fuckin’ rock, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled wryly. “That’s what you’re thinking about? Not— y’know— the handjob to end all handjobs?” To prove your point, you twisted your hand and let your thumb glide over his slit. He practically whimpered, bucking into your grip.

You redoubled your efforts, relishing in each desperate, whiny noise you were able to elicit. He was getting close— you could feel it in the way he throbbed in your hand, and hear it in the desperate pants and moans passing his lips. Before he could finish, you slowed your pace and let him come back from the edge.

He sat there, arm slung over his eyes, just catching his breath. “Earth to Steve?” You teased, placing a kiss on his tummy. He made a low noise in the back of his throat and took another deep breath.

“Okay, I’m good,” he said, a breathy laugh escaping his lips as he finally lowered his arm and looked at you. “Just needed a minute so I didn’t—“ You giggled as he mimed an explosion, completely unabashed about the effect you had on him.

He grabbed the camera and placed it on the bedside table, doing his best to angle it just right. “Alright… wanna take a ride on the Harrington Express?” He patted his thighs with a smug expression and you groaned in annoyance.

“Steve.”

“Fine. I’ll be so cool. I’ll be totally normal. But just know… you’re marrying a loser.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly as you straddled his thighs. “I wouldn’t have it any other way… most of the time.”

He stared up at you like you hung the moon, all doe eyes and heart-shaped pupils. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, tender and slow, and you hummed contentedly at the feeling.

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips. He moved one of your hands from his shoulder and down to his chest, where his heart thumped steadily. For you.

Your own heart lurched in your chest as a swell of emotions overtook you. “I love you too, Steve.”

You reached between the two of you, taking his cock into your hand so you could position him at your entrance. You breathed slowly through your nose as you sank down— the prep and attention he had given you made the stretch comfortable and bearable, so all you felt was the pleasurable full feeling that he gave you.

Once you were fully seated, you gave an experimental roll of your hips. A moan escaped you at the feeling— as each tiny movement made delicious electricity run along your nerves.

He sat up fully, his chest pressing against yours, holding you firmly against him. “That’s it, baby,” he groaned, cutting himself off to plant wet kisses along your jaw and throat. “Feels so good. Love the way your pussy feels around me.”

He cried out as you began to ride him in earnest, not caring how thin the walls of the condo were. His hands gripped onto your hips and dimpled the plush skin there as he began to meet your thrusts with his own. With each movement, you could feel him getting deeper until you could practically feel him in your guts.

“Steve,” you gasped out, meeting his gaze as he fucked up into you. The sound of his name seemed to spur him on.

“Say it again,” he demanded. “Touch yourself while you do,”

You whimpered at the tone of his voice, snaking a hand between your bodies to toy with your clit. Your limbs felt like jelly as he continued to fuck the life and brains out of you. “St-Steve, fuck, baby,” you cried between the hiccup-y sobs of pleasure that were punched from your lungs.

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. Not gonna last like this.”

“Don’t,” you managed. “Cum for me. With me.” You leaned in and kissed him in a way that felt like more saliva than lips.

When you pulled back, he nodded, forehead pressed against yours as you both worked each other over the edge. Your vision was spotted with pinpricks of light while he worked you through it, his moans distant in your ears.

You were both panting, nearly tacked together with sweat as you came down. You chuckled lightly as you tilted your head to look at him. “That was one hell of a celebration.” He intertwined your fingers and placed a kiss on your ring finger.

“And we have the rest of our lives to do it again, and again, and again, and ag—“

You shut him up with a kiss. You figure that for the rest of your lives, that’s always going to work.

It does.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #lazy ghoul’s kinktober

4K notes · View notes

lovebugism · 9 months

Note

vacation, cocktails, stevie in the tiniest shorts… I mean 😮‍💨

thanks for your request lovey!! — the one where steve takes you to the beach, but him in his bathing suit is the real view (established relationship, smut 18+, 2k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

“My eyes are up here, sweetheart,” Steve jokes as he passes you a cocktail. It’s a red, yellow, and blue colored drink with an orange slice wedged into the top of it. It’s about as tropical as a beachside bar can get.

The rainbow colors match his color-blocked swim trunks, though the fabric is far more muted in hue. They make his tanned skin look that much more golden. You can’t figure out which shade is most his color, though, no matter how hard you ogle.

Steve spent a better part of the day smiling with delight every time he caught you staring. He’d been a bit scared to wear the shorts, in truth. They were far too long to be considered a speedo but revealed more of his thighs than normal trunks did. Then he saw how much you loved them and never wanted to take them off.

“Sorry,” you murmur as you take the blended drink from him. “It’s just… It’s staring me right in the face, babe.”

“Shut up,” Steve huffs out a laugh, descending on the lounge seat next to yours.

You’ve been on vacation for four days now, playing house in his parents’ beachside condo. He wears the bliss of holiday all over him, tanned skin glittering beneath a golden hour sun. He’s almost constantly shirtless because it’s so damn hot out — which has done nothing but give you ample time to leer at his toned torso, dusted with marred scars beneath sprinkles of chestnut hair.

But it’s his thighs that get you. Those goddamn perfect thighs you want to take a bite out of and ride all at once.

No one should look so good in such a tiny pair of shorts. You think it should be a crime, really. And the worst part about all of it is Steve has virtually no idea what he’s doing to you.

He just sits there next to you and laughs at your ogling — like there's anything remotely funny about the heart palpitations he’s giving you just from looking so damn good.

“I’m so glad I got you those shorts,” you confess, mostly to yourself, before sipping at the bendy straw in your cup. The fruity slush cools your warm skin almost instantly.

“Yeah,” Steve hums with a lopsided smile. His rosy lips match the sunburn on his cheekbones. “They fit like a glove, don’t they?”

You know he’s saying that just to tease you, but you nod anyway. “Yes, they do,” you singsong quietly, chewing at the end of your straw and getting lost in your leering.

It makes Steve chuckle to himself. “Alright, babe. Keep it in your pants.”

“I’d love to get into your pants, actually.”

“You’re in rare form today, aren’t you?” Steve wonders through his laughter.

Being beachside looked good on you — being away from Hawkins looked good on you. It’s the first time he’s seen you relax in a while. Like, really relax. No monsters to hunt, no children to run after, no parents to impress. It’s just you and him and an orange sun.

And also a bar that serves alcohol that tastes like juice that you’re currently downing like it’s nothing.

“I’m tipsy and in love,” you shrug. “Sue me.”

Steve smacks his lips against his teeth. “Nah. I’m tipsy and in love, too, so… I guess I can’t really blame you…”

His admission of love makes you smile. You’ve surely heard it a million times now, but your chest sparkles like it’s the very first.

You grow suddenly soft. “Thanks for bringing me here, Stevie…”

His sheepish grin matches your own. “Thanks for coming with me, baby.”

He reaches a hand out towards you — which you take without thinking twice.

His long fingers are warm as they engulf your own. Your arms sway in the inches of space separating the two of you, knuckles gently brushing the white sand beneath you. And even though you’re touching him, you can’t help but crave more.

“You’re so far away,” you observe with a slight pout furrowing your brows.

Steve scoffs a gentle laugh. “I’m literally holding your hand.”

“Yeah, but like…” You trail off as you try to find the words to say — how to say them without sounding pathetic. Your nose scrunches softly with your admission. “I need you…”

“Need me?” he wonders with pinched brows.

He’s concerned at first, because he’s always concerned at first.

He’s been on the defense since 1984. It’s practically in his nature, at this point. It takes him a second to realize you don’t actually need help — that you’re not in Hawkins anymore, and there’s no reason to look over his shoulder.

His honey eyes go wide in realization a moment later. His pink mouth falls softly agape. “Oh. Like, need me, need me?”

You hum with a distant, tipsy smile.

“Need you, need you, need you,” you repeat thrice for effect.

Despite his similar desire that blooms like a flower in his chest, he urges, “Finish your drink first, ‘kay?”

Your pout returns. “Why?”

“‘Cause it was expensive as shit, and I don’t want it going to waste,” he explains with a chuckle.

You nod in return. “Yes, sir…”

Your mouth curls around the straw again. A smile quirks your lips as you watch the boy next to you squirm in his seat — your words having a rather obvious effect on him.

You swallow down the strawberry slush, now turning into a sour lemon, and blink away a brain freeze.

“You okay over there, Stevie?” you tease.

He nods with jutted-out lips. “Mm-hmm. Yep. Perfect.”

—————

One Tropical Rainbow Paradise cocktail later, and Steve’s leading you to his cabana.

It’s more private than a normal one. Far more lavish, too. It’s like a tiny studio apartment — made of three walls and a thick curtain in place of a door. There’s a television hung below the ceiling, a small bed pushed up against the wood, and a clawfoot tub idling on the other side.

You figure you’ll have ample time to ride Steve in the bath later.

Your mouth waters for a taste of him now.

It’s why you fall to your knees no more than a second after you’ve latched the curtain shut.

Steve’s eyes go wide as he watches you. He nearly stumbles backward onto the mattress behind him because the very sight of you makes his legs buckle.

“Whoa, babe— Let me put a pillow under you first—”

“I don’t care about that,” you dismiss with the shake of your head. Your fingers curl around the hem of his trunks as you blink up at him. “Just take your clothes off.”

He nods, rapid and visibly enthusiastic.

You don’t pull his shorts all the way down, just enough to free his half-hard cock. You slip the band beneath his heavy balls and wrap his dick in your hand, wetting your palm with your tongue first to ease the friction.

You work him slowly with your wrist and lick the pearly bead of precum from his flushed tip like it’s muscle memory to you. The rough pad of your tongue flicking over the most sensitive part of him drives him wild. A groan rumbles in his chest, muffled through his clenched jaw and teeth.

“Fuck— These trunks are really doing it for you, huh?” he teases after his fleeting senses return to him.

You blink up at him, only halfway amused. “Be careful, Stevie. I don't know if you noticed, but I have your dick in my hand.”

A crooked grin pulls at his pink lips. “Yeah… Go ahead and put your mouth on it, sweetheart,” he instructs lowly. “Maybe I’ll let you ride it after— shit.”

Your lips wrap fully around his reddening tip.

His breath catches in his throat when you lick over him like a lollipop. Your tongue dips over his drooling slit. The salty tang of him makes you moan under your breath.

Your lips abandon his cock soon after. You keep jerking him with your fist while you bring your mouth to his balls. You know he likes that best. He’s more sensitive there than most men are and spurned on by the sight of it even more so.

The sounds of your suckling and the vision of you nuzzling against his length has his orgasm creeping up his spine.

Your mouth widens as your tongue trails up the thick vein at the underside of his cock, leading all the way to his flushed, bulbous tip.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” Steve sighs, right before a whine spills from his throat. His palms are wide and warm as they settle over your temples, his fingers crawling into your hair.

He doesn’t guide you at all — you know what he likes better than he does, really. He doesn’t pull you closer to him, either. He just holds you. He uses you like an anchor when his impending orgasm threatens to pull his head underwater.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he repeats, this time in a more firm groan. His cock jerks faintly in your mouth while he babbles. “Gonna make me come like this… So good for me, baby. Your pretty mouth is always so good for me. Just a little bit more…”

You know what he needs. He blinks, and suddenly his cock is stuffed down your throat. Both of you are barely breathing by then, equally spurned on by his rapidly approaching orgasm.

“Oh, shit, babe— fuck,” he whines, voice breaking when you swallow around him. He tilts his head to the ceiling and talks himself through his orgasm with gritted teeth. “Yeah. Gag on it— let me feel you, baby… Fuck, yes... 'S gonna make me come so hard. You’re gonna swallow it for me, yeah? Take everything I give you?”

With his cock stuffing your throat, you show him better than you can tell him.

His cock spits several warm loads within your waiting throat. You swallow it all down without complaint — not because it tastes good exactly, but because you love having a mouthful of him.

His golden thighs tremble under your hands as your nails rake gently over his skin.

A blissful sigh trembles in his flushed chest when you pull back from him. Even though your jaw aches and your throat is sore, you find it in you to smile as you drag your finger over the dribbles of cum at the corner of your mouth.

Steve swears he almost comes again when you lick the remnants of his pearly load off the pad of your thumb.

“What do ya say?” you find it in you to tease despite your current predicament. You’re still kneeling in front of him, blinking up at him with heavy watering eyes, saliva glistening on your chin. “Did I earn my seat, Stevie?”

Swallowing through a tight throat, he nods until the words catch up to him. “Yeah. Definitely, yeah. Fuck.”

The bed creaks under his weight when he lies in the center of it. Now fully naked, his tanned skin contrasts heavily with the all-white sheets beneath him. His honey hair is wild as he leans against the fluffy pillows.

He beckons you to him with a wave of his hands.

“C’mere,” he tells you, pink tongue darting out to wet his swollen lips a second later.

You untie your bikini in record time. You rise on the mattress and swing your knee over his hip. Your glistening pussy rests just over his stomach, pretty enough to taste.

“Uh-uh,” Steve hums with the shake of his head, waving his hands again. “Come here.”

Your brows pinch. “What do you mean?”

“Closer,” he commands.

Still a bit confused, you shift further up his waist — only a few inches, though, because you’re not entirely sure what he’s asking of you.

You don’t fully understand until his wide hands curl around the backs of your thighs. He urges you up his torso himself, forcing you to grip the headboard before you topple over completely.

He shifts lower on the mattress until your knees are over his shoulders. His strong arms wrap around your thighs to pull you over his face, all but suffocating himself with your pussy.

His scruffy jaw scratches softly at your inner thighs — a stark contrast with the way his soft mouth suckles at your weeping cunt.

You’re practically gushing over his face the second his lips wrap around your clit.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #bug's summer fic fest!

1K notes · View notes

fastcardotmp3 · 1 year

Text

Eddie Munson does do the whole rock star thing, but it doesn't quite go the way it did in the daydreams of a sixteen-year-old kid trying to stay awake in school.

He leaves Hawkins after the world doesn't end, gets himself out there, takes all the hurt and fear and fucked up shit and puts it into a handful of good enough songs to get himself signed.

It's not quite the genre he grew up with, not quite something any of his idols might have played, but only because it is so entirely Eddie, so influenced by where he's been and what he's seen that it kind of doesn't fit one specific influence.

It's new and it's good, is the point. Really good. And he skyrockets fast enough to give himself the spins.

He's recognizable and then he's famous and then he's too famous and too young to know what to do with it and too far from home and everyone he loves to really cope with it and it's just.

Eddie isn't built for it. Eddie hasn't even processed the fact that he was maybe supposed to die in that place, or the fact that he did watch people better than him actually die, but he's out here shooting to the top of the charts and being called the next big thing and it's too much.

It's just enough, at the end of it all, for him to self-sabotage his way out of being more than a one-hit wonder.

One big hit, a contract broken by the guys at the top with the fancy lawyers because Eddie has become the too much thing, just like always, and it's over as quick as it started.

He disappears, becomes one of those whatever happened to him? he was supposed to be the next big thing? stories that travel by word of mouth and then fade with the shift in conversation.

So what does happen to Eddie Munson?

He falls hard, he hits rock bottom, he crawls his way home to an uncle who deserved for Eddie to really make it, make him proud, have him financially set for life and get him into a real house with two stories and a garage to park the truck in, maybe even a yard for a dog.

He spirals and isolates and falls apart and stops letting himself make music at all and makes some personal choices that will probably have lasting effects on him for the rest of his life and then somewhere along the line a girl with hair like tangerines and terrible aim manages to smack him with her cane and says if I learned to walk again, so can you, asshole.

There are people in his life again after that, a reason to get out of bed and realize that he can make Wayne proud in more ways than the one he'd already fucked straight to hell.

Eddie watches a bunch of kids graduate high school and then he packs up and chases down some people who pulled him out of hell once before up in Chicago, crashes on Steve and Robin's couch until he gets himself a job painting houses and they can afford three bedrooms instead of just the two.

He cuts his hair, not short but shorter, and he gets more tattoos and itches for the guitar that sits in a case under his bed, ignores it. Itches for the pen in his hand, ignores that too.

He's still barely past his mid-20s and he still has some fucking around left to get out of his system, some finding out to accomplish doubly so, but he learns as he goes no matter whether it's forwards or backwards.

He falls in love and falls out of it, gets fired from jobs and tracks down new ones, gets into fights with his friends because they're all a little fucked up and codependent and weird but makes up with them for the same reasons.

The thing with Steve happens slowly, going from tolerating each other for the sake of knowing they'll always be on the same team to genuinely liking each other to discovering a care between the two of them that's a bit too strong to be normal about even if it still takes them a half-dozen so-called turning points to really name it and take it and keep it.

Eddie's 33 when they buy a condo together on the outskirts of Chicago two weeks after they fall into bed with each other for the first time, and he's over a decade on from being a kid who rose to the top too fast but it doesn't feel dissimilar, that sensation of a too-good thing that's bound to go wrong.

Only this time he doesn't try to sabotage it, tries the opposite, tries to hold it tightly in ways that would probably be too tight for anyone other than Steve Harrington with all his deeply intense feelings and inability to love at anything other than an eleven.

It's in the move that Steve finds a box of notebooks, snoops because it's who he is, and finds years worth of words that never made it past the tip of a pen but did, eventually, make it that far.

And it's not an easy thing, convincing Eddie that they're words worth sharing, because Eddie doesn't want it to be an easy thing. He can't let kind words shoved into his orbit by a beautiful man be enough to make it feel worth it, can't see a world where sharing his art doesn't end in another great big self-induced mess that he can't let happen when he's finally found something good.

He doesn't want to go on tour and get screamed at on stage and, besides, he's pretty sure the rest of the world doesn't want to scream for him anymore either, but then Steve has to go and remind him--

"You don't have to be the face of it. You can just be the words; you are so fucking good at being the words, Ed."

Which still isn't quite enough to be convincing, but it's a start in a solid six months of the words coming easier now that he has someone to share them with, someone to listen as Eddie plucks away at a guitar that sits out in the open now, free of dust.

It stops feeling like something shameful to hide, his music, and the thing is? It doesn't feel how it did back then either.

It's not an escape or a purge of violent energy or a distraction from everything he didn't know how to think about. Sure, it takes all of that into consideration because it takes the whole of Eddie into consideration, but more than anything it's just fun.

Like he's thirteen and still learning how to play the guitar, like it's just a hobby that never has to go anywhere, like it's just art that maybe deserves to be heard.

Everyone pitches in on ideas when they find out he's trying to come up with a pseudonym, and it's goofy and supportive and kind of the final straw in reaching out to old, burned bridges to see about any new artists looking for equally new tunes.

The first time Eddie and Steve catch familiar lyrics being sung by a new hotshot band on the radio, Eddie cries not because he's jealous or disappointed, but because it feels right.

He doesn't like being up in front of the crowds, had only ever walked across tables and made himself big and scary and loud out of self preservation, would always rather his biggest performances be for the people he knows really care.. Besides, after everything he's survived he's learned, albeit slowly, that he really likes the freedom of the quiet.

This way he still gets to say what he has to say, gets to throw his hat into the ring of an artform that he loves without selling his soul to a machine that tried to eat him alive (trust him. he knows what that feels like.)

Of course, someone is going to put 2 and 2 together eventually, the industry isn't as big as it looks and pseudonyms only pull so much weight when you went out in such a spectacularly messy and memorable fashion, but Eddie's got his condo in Chicago.

He's got the guy he shares it with in his bed.

He's got two cats and a windowsill full of plants he's going to keep alive this time, Steve, just you watch.

He's got his uncle settled in Indy these days, a small place with a small yard.

He's got music, too. Turns out even his own tendency to self-destruct couldn't take that away, huh?

It's what got him out of hell alive, after all.

#dot post #dot fic #eddie munson #steddie #one hit wonder eddie has lived rent free in my head for too long you guys have to join me in this before I lose my mind to it #rockstar!eddie #writer!eddie

2K notes · View notes

beomcoups · 1 day

Text

F.U.C.K.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ex!bf Seungcheol x fem!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, smut, small fluff, lovers to exes au, 18+

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.1k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You've been on and off forever and you couldn't leave him alone if you tried. You have an itch only Seungcheol can scratch.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, oral, missionary, riding, praise, dirty talk, creampie, clit stim, multiple orgasms, a bit of overstimulation, Coups is a lover boi, angsty feelings about the relationship

𝐀𝐍: Thank youuuuu @hobeemin & @wongyuseokie for reading this for me and Beezy you are the best hype woman ever <3. Also thank you @aaagustd for making this sexy ass banner 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬��: 💿 F.U.C.K- Victoria Monet, Dirty Dancer- Orion Sun, Idea 686- Jayla Darden, Strings- iyla, Behind- Woodz, Forgive Me- Chloe x Halle, Art- Tyla, I Could Imagine- Alina Baraz, Good& Plenty- Alex Isley, Masego and Jack Dine, Skin Tight- Ravyn Lenae Steve Lacy, Idea 683- Jayla Darden, Body and Soul- Emotional Oranges and Biig Piig, Butterflies- Tyla, Between Us- Alina Baraz, Nasty- Tinashe, Under The Moon - Alex Isley, Jack Dine (spotify)

It’s complicated. Your Facebook relationship status has been that way for over a year. If someone asked, you wouldn’t know how to define your relationship with Seungcheol. You can’t say you’re just friends when the love is still there, but you can’t stay together longer to just work. Something happens, and you argue and split up. Months, sometimes years, can go by, and you feel like you’ve finally moved on, but all he has to do is call, or you have an itch that needs scratching, and there he is, ready to make it go away.

He stands there in front of you, his dark hair clipped and trimmed perfectly, highlighting the handsome features on his face: his dark, round eyes, high cheekbones, and plump pink lips. He comes dressed in a simple white tee and sweats, with an overnight bag in hand, as he knows he is staying the night. Seungcheol smirked as he walked in, placing a small kiss on your temple.

“Well, hello to you too,” you say, shutting the door behind you. You watch him take off his shoes, walk into your living room, and admire the view of the city through your picture windows. You just moved into your high-rise condo a couple of months ago, and your job promotion allows you to level up in life and enjoy nice things for once. Your place looks straight out of a movie, with your tastes added. Your favorite color is blue, and you included it in your decor.

“You kept the couch?” Seungcheol points at the royal blue sectional sofa with matching gold-trimmed throw pillows you bought from your favorite thrift store. “Yes,” you say proudly. “That couch is my pride and joy. We’ve been through a lot together.” Memories about the many times you spent together on the couch, clothed and unclothed, cloud your mind. He chuckles as you sashay to the kitchen, grabbing a bottled water. You offer him one, and he shakes his head, returning his attention to the city's shining lights. He’s been in your life for five years, meeting at a grocery store with both of your hands on the last bag of cherries. He relented, letting you have them in exchange for your number. You didn’t give it to him, hoping that you would see him again. At the time, you just moved to the city, and if you were meant to meet again, you would give him your number. A couple of weeks later, you did when you went to a birthday dinner with your former roommate. His eyes twinkled when you exchanged glances, and you felt like it was fate. “You did it,” he felicitates you. “You did everything we talked about doing all those years ago. I’m proud of you.”

You would have late nights with him in your shitty old apartment, eating Chinese takeout in bed and talking about your hopes for the future. Seungcheol wanted to have it all: a nice house, cars, and riches beyond his dreams. All you wanted was a good life. You grew up poor, raised by a single mom who worked two jobs to ensure you had a roof over your head. You understood each other in that way, and it worked between you two for a while… until it didn’t.

“You got your high rise before me,” you appear beside him. “What does it feel like, being the top broker in your firm?”

“It’s nice,” he nods. “It keeps me busy.”

You knew that all too well. One of the reasons you broke up was time. His work felt more important than maintaining a relationship with you. You swear if someone called in the middle of the night, he would answer in a heartbeat. It’s not like you aren’t busy; you work on Wall Street. But you still made time to be with him at all important events and when it mattered most. The energy wasn’t reciprocated.

“I see nothing has changed,” you say, taking a swig of your water.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “I think I am ready for it, though.”

“Are you now?”

“Yeah. There is no point in having all of this if there is no one to share it with, right?”

You didn’t have to say anything back because he was right. What is the point of working hard, making more money than your parents could ever dream of, traveling, and having life experiences without having someone to share them with? It also incredibly frustrates you. Why did it take five years for him to get to this point? The back and forth, blocking each other on all accounts. Was it worth it?

You two are silent, watching the city lights twinkle in the distance. His fingers slip in between yours, pulling you closer to him. Just being near him makes your heart skip several beats. No one like him can melt you just by his touch and presence. Yes, he can irritate you to no end, but he also makes your soul smile.

“I missed you,” he says, gazing at you.

“I know.”

You kiss him, the magic stirring in your chest as he returns your feelings; sparks all around you two like fireworks. Your hands explore him fervently, pulling off his shirt and throwing it on your couch. He unhooks your bra, helping you out of your shirt and exposing your breasts. He bites his lip as he palms his growing bulge, the very thought of his lips all over you making you hot.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers.

You take his hand and guide him to your bedroom, climbing over your king-size bed. He follows you closely, his index finger sliding up your thigh. It feels electric, having him touch you again after so long. You have tried moving on, going on dates, and having one-night stands here and there. But deep down, those people weren’t him. Seungcheol knows your body, what makes you tick, your boundaries, and what drives you crazy. It’s exhausting trying to find that chemistry with someone else. Too bad you can’t just make it work.

He slides your shorts and panties off with one hand, your naked body being illuminated by the moonlight. He notices your sheets, trying to hold it in before succumbing to a belly laugh.

“Cherry sheets? Really?” He says in between breathes.

“Come on now,” you chuckle. “You know I love my little house on the prairie sheets.” “I swear you were born in the wrong generation,” Seungcheol expresses, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Yeah, maybe,” you muse over his words. “I’m glad I met you in this lifetime, though.” He admires you, his thumb caressing your cheek before he kisses you again. This time, it’s more heartfelt, your bodies hungry for another as each minute passes. His hand travels down to your inner thighs, spreading your legs apart and slowly entering a digit into your wet core. Seungcheol licks his lips, watching your eyes roll back as you unravel his arms. “Shit,” you moan. “Keep doing it just like that.”

“I’m going to do more than that,” he whispers in your ear.

Seungcheol was already great with his fingers, slipping one more in you as his tongue played in circles on your neck, your sweet-smelling perfume intoxicating to him. He loves the way your brows furrow when he goes deep, your mind focused on nothing else but cumming all over his hand. You play with your clit, drunk on the pleasure he’s giving you, with your wetness pooling onto your sheets. You two are connected in a way, in your own little bubble surrounded by ecstasy.

“Fuck baby,” you pant as pressure builds up in your stomach. “I’m almost there.” He pulls his fingers out of you quickly, snapping you out of your zone, and you whimper in protest. He aggressively pulls down his pants and briefs, revealing his hardened cock already leaking with precum. He slides down to your entrance, his face nose deep in between your legs before he dives in; his tongue attacks your sweet nectar. Sensational couldn't even begin to describe how you feel. He eats you with an enthusiasm that almost makes you laugh despite the deep pleasure he brings you. “You taste better than I remembered,” he mouths. “Cum for me.”

Your body is at its brink, ready to fall, when Seungcheol slips his fingers in, working together with his tongue to make sure you hit that pool of ecstasy. Your hands grip his hair, and your orgasm hits you like cool water on a warm day. You feel him smirk against your thigh, leaving you with lasting, small kisses before lifting his face and revealing your essence on the lower half. You cover your mouth to hold back your giggles, and he rolls his eyes, leaning over and kissing your lips. “I’m not sorry,” you breathe. “You knew what you were doing.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he smirks. “Especially when I’m going to make you do it again.”

Seungcheol lifts your leg, pulling himself back as he rubs his throbbing dick against your entrance. Your eyes grow wide as he taps your sensitive, swollen clit, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says as if reading your thoughts. “I’m going to start slow.” “You don’t want me to blo—” you start to protest. “No, I’ve waited long enough,” his deep and velvety voice serves as a warning. FUCK.

He enters you inch by inch, stretching you out the way you like, your fingers already gripping the sheets. You look at him through a hazy daze, his focus on burying himself deep inside of you, bringing you a deep satisfaction. You enjoy watching his Adam’s apple shift when he moans, his voice barely audible while he dives into you. You remember the first time you slept together; he had your legs over his shoulder, fucking you long and deep on top of your blue couch at your old place. You both didn’t intend for it to happen that way; you were caught up in the highs of seeing a band you both enjoy, and one thing led to another. His dick is long with a bit of a curve, fitting perfectly like your pussy was molded and made for him. No one has even come close.

“Give it to me,” you breathe. “Please, I need you bad.” Seungcheol loves it when you beg for it, and he obliges, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. Maybe it’s because you love him, but he is the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. The way his hips roll as he snaps into you, watching him come in and out of you with your wetness coating him, turns you on. Your hands grasp his face, your thumb slipping into his mouth as he fucks you silly. You can barely form words in your head, let alone say anything else but “fuck” and “make me cum”. He fucks you in a way that makes you have wet dreams and leaves you with a puddle in your sheets. If he were a Greek god, he would be Eros, the god of love and sex. That’s how bad he has you. “Turn over,” you grit your teeth. You lean up and flip him over, his throbbing cock still inside you as you are on top of him. You let your body take over, riding him while his hands are placed firmly on your breasts. You set the pace, and he follows, a harmonious rhythm between the two of you, your senses heightened to another level. You are on this incredible high, sliding on his shaft while you vigorously play with your clit, ready to cum. “Did you miss this? He teases you as he grinds harder into you. “Did you miss sitting on this dick until you cum?” You nod fervently, your hand still playing with your clit, and you are ready to explode.

“Fuck,” he grits his teeth. “I’m close. Let’s come together like we always do.” You erupt, screaming his name while he sloppily pumps into you, his hair sweaty and his succulent lips red from biting. He leans up and kisses you hard, your moans and words of praise swallowed and digested. Whatever you were going to say, he felt it more, your hearts beating in unison powered by your feelings for each other. He talks you through it, helping you come down from your high before he releases his own, spilling into you until he is completely spent. You’ve been on birth control for years, and Seungcheol is the only person you’ve let hit without a condom. It just feels so right with him. You roll off of him, collapsing on your pillow as you try and catch your breath. His breathing is relaxed, and when you gaze at him, his eyes are closed, already half asleep. You attempt to get out of bed, but he grabs your arm, pulling you close to him.

“Stay,” he kisses your shoulder. “I sleep better when you’re with me.”

You can’t deny him when he is in this state, pulling on your heartstrings like that.

“Fine, you win,” you say without much effort.

Glancing at the time, it’s after 12, and fatigue finally hits you at least. Snuggling into him, you fall into a deep sleep, but not before admitting that you still love him and would do anything for him.

The sunlight is not kind as it peers through your windows and wakes you up a little after 9. You had forgotten to draw the curtains before you fell asleep, but you didn’t have much energy left after the night you had. You woke him up after three, sucking his cock until he exploded down your throat, and he returned the favor by eating you out until you were ripe from overstimulation. You made such a mess that you had to change your sheets and listen to him teasing you about your “old lady” sheets. Whatever, you liked them.

You rolled over, and Seungcheol was already awake, scrolling through his phone. He notices you and kisses your forehead before removing your blanket and smacking your ass.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he says, leaning back against the headboard.

You chuckle as you get out of bed, grab your silk robe, and walk into the bathroom. You feel sore; last night’s shenanigans are indeed catching up with you. You just want to lay in bed and relax, but you have this nagging feeling in your stomach. You could brush it off and deal with it later, but knowing you, you will overthink, turning it into something it's not. You have to know how he feels.

Finishing up in the bathroom, you leave to find him setting orange juice on your nightstand with a couple of ibuprofen. He is only dressed in his sweats and nothing underneath, your center aching for him despite the tenderness you feel.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, reading your look. You have never had a good poker face.

You sit down on the bed, take your two pills, and wash them down with orange juice. You allow yourself to get your thoughts in order. You're unsure what to say, but you know the conversation needs to be had.

“What are we doing?” you blurt out. “I love you, and you never stopped loving me. Why can’t we just get it right?”

The silence is too deafening for your liking. It would be like you to tear the band-aid off first thing in the morning. But you hate being in the dark, not knowing what the future will hold. You’re not saying that you have to jump the broom, but you have to know if there’s any chance he feels the same way you do.

“I-I-m sorry,” you shake your head. “I shouldn’t have sprung that on you first thing in the morning. Forget I said anything.”

You attempt to leave the room before Seungcheol catches your arm and motions for you to sit down. Grudgingly, you do, sitting on your ottoman and facing him. “You didn’t even give me a chance to respond,” he complains. “You can’t always assume how I feel is something bad. Give me a chance.” You nod, knowing deep down he is right. “You are right,” He admits. “I love you, and this song and dance we’ve been doing for years is tired. I came to you last night because I missed you and I need you. You’re the only one in my life who has always kept it straight with me, even when you get on my nerves.” You smirk at his comment, knowing it’s true. “But we have also been apart for a long time, and as much as I want to jump back into our usual routine, I recognize we have grown up a bit and need to get to know each other as our different selves.” You nod slowly, mulling over his words, unsure what to say. “I also don’t want to see anyone else,” he breathes. “You are the only person I want to see, to do this with.” He points at the sheets, and you roll your eyes. It would be like him to somehow bridge it back to sex.

“So…” your voice trails off. “What are we then? We are more than friends but not together? I don’t understand.” “I want to be with you,” he grabs your hands. “If we fight and storm off to our houses, I’d rather it be that then we break up and don’t talk for months at a time. I hate that.” You nod, finally understanding what he is saying. He is scared of the future, just like you are. But in this life, you would rather go through it with him than anyone else. You have too much time and feelings just to throw it away. “Maybe we can try talking to someone about it this time around?” You say. “A therapist or something? I want to be with you, and maybe working through our issues to understand each other better sometimes is what we need.” “Yeah, I’m open to that.” He hugs you, embracing you tightly before leaving sweet kisses on your face. You are deathly ticklish, and he knows it. He moves his kisses elsewhere until you find yourself in your bed, his body towering over yours. He leaves you one more kiss on your lips before laying his head on your chest. “We’re going to be okay,” he whispers.

You look down and smile, caressing the dark stresses in his hair.

“Yeah. We will be.”

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #svthub #svt fanfic #svt oneshot #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt smut #svt angst #svt fluff #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #svt ff #scoups ff #seventeen smut #ksmutsociety

263 notes · View notes

tboygareth · 11 months

Text

have a little father's day blurb about complicated father-son relationships. 1k. cross posted to ao3

steve's relationship with his parents has been complicated at best his entire life but it's only after he and eddie have an apartment together in chicago that his perception of of the father-son relationship shifts.

for the past decade or so, he's watched eddie's relationship with wayne and ached a little bit. because that's the kind of father-son relationship he wishes he could have had with his dad.

it wasn't always great, especially after his dad realized steve could mostly fend for himself and started leaving him alone more and more often for longer stretches of time. but it wasn't all bad either. his dad used to take him to ball games and he taught him how to ride a bike without the training wheels. he taught him how to change the oil in his beamer and how to bullshit his way through a book report.

mostly, though, he taught steve how to be lonely.

over the past couple of years, steve has slowly been trying to repair that stilted relationship with his old man. the guy isn't going to be around forever, and if nothing else he owes it to steve to leave him with some good memories after he's gone.

father's day has always been a bit of a weird day for steve, because his dad has always kept his feelings close to the vest, so steve's never had any idea how to navigate the day around him.

he thinks about the year he was thirteen; they'd gone to a cubs game together at wrigley and his dad let him have a cup of beer with his hotdog. he thinks of the year he was sixteen, before hawkins turned itself upside down; his dad was out of town at the condo in indy for some work conference the following week and he'd sighed when steve called him to wish him well, thinking there'd been something wrong at home.

this year is going to be different, steve tells himself.

he and eddie have invited both his dad and wayne to their apartment in chicago for dinner, and his dad is going to be here. steve's already bought a card for his dad, and his mom sent him her lasagna recipe, and he splurged for a good bottle of red wine.

hopefully this year will begin to repair the distance between steve and his dad.

steve finds himself hovering over the coffee maker at the kitchen counter, staring off into space while it brews, and eddie startles him a little when he comes up behind him to wrap an arm around his waist and kiss his cheek.

'you good?'

"yeah. little nervous.'

'it'll be fine. i made him laugh at christmas last year. remember?'

steve does remember. it was a good christmas.

it took steve's parents some time to accept steve and eddie as steve and eddie, but it's been so long now that it's not something that the harringtons can just ignore. if they want to be a part of their son's life, they need to get used to eddie. and this past christmas felt like a win - the harringtons had gifted them concert tickets and a fancy toaster oven for their apartment.

that night, after the sunday chores have been done and the laundry has been folded and put away, richard and wayne show up within moments of each other. steve and eddie's beagle mix, ozzy, greets them at the door, his tail thumping against the floor as he resists jumping up to beg their visitors for pets.

dinner goes really well; richard doesn't say anything offensive about their little apartment and eddie doesn't goad him into a discussion about politics. together, the four of them reminisce about steve and eddie's childhoods around the table, their plates overflowing with noodles and red sauce. wayne tells them stories about eddie that steve's never heard before, and richard tells stories that steve had completely forgotten about.

it's giving steve hope, this father's day dinner with his dad and his boyfriend and his boyfriend's uncle-dad.

until steve and richard are at the sink washing up the dinner dishes together, and everything crashes down around them.

'you're still young,' richard says. 'there's still time.'

'for what?'

'for you to come to your senses.'

'dad...'

'no, i mean it. there's always a job waiting for you at my firm. plenty of pretty girls in administrative roles there, too.'

'dad...' steve says again.

'i'm just saying, steven. it's time to stop playing house like this and settle down.'

'i am settled. we have a good life here. i love my job at the school. i love my life. i love eddie.'

'don't you want kids of your own? he can't give you that.'

steve scoffs.

'why would i want kids of my own? i didn't exactly have the best parental role models growing up. i'd fuck a kid up, just like you and mom fucked me up. besides, i have my students. that's plenty for me.'

'we gave you everything, steven.'

'everything except your presence. i needed you guys, especially as a teenager. and you guys just... didn't give a shit. why would i want to keep that cycle going?'

the silence in the kitchen is so loud.

'it's late. you should get going. eddie's got work in the morning.'

richard sighs.

'the offer stands. the firm is always there when you're ready.'

'just go. happy father's day.'

it comes out bitter. snappy. steve doesn't apologize.

richard goes. steve stays in the kitchen and tries not to think about it. he pops open a second bottle of wine - cheap, sweet, white, the kind of wine his father would mock him for drinking if he gave him half a chance.

he feels stupid for thinking his father could change, for thinking it could ever be different. people his dad's age are so stuck in their ways that there's no getting through to them. it's not easy but it's reality.

after wayne leaves, eddie comes into the kitchen to join steve and pour himself a glass of that cheap riesling steve's been working his way through. he doesn't say anything because he doesn't have to. ozzy curls up at steve's feet and the three of them sit together in a comfortable silence. eddie holds steve's hand atop the table.

at least steve isn't lonely anymore.

#bee's blurbs #steddie #steve's complicated relationship with his dad #idk man father's day is weird when the only thing ur dad ever taught u was how to live without him i guess #hope everyone w complicated feelings abt today takes it easy <33

480 notes · View notes

romanoffsbish · 1 year

Text

Hopelessly Devoted to You

Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Yelena Belova x Fem!R (brief)

Summary: Wanda made a big mistake, but who hasn’t? She never said she was a saint. It upset her that you weren’t more understanding, but it upset her more to see you trying to move on. There was no one better for you than her; she planned to show you that in malicious ways.

🎼 “My head is sayin', "Fool, forget him" ; My heart is sayin', "Don't let go. Hold on to the end", that's what I intend to do. I'm hopelessly devoted to you. But now there's nowhere to hide. Since you pushed my love aside. I'm outta my head. Hopelessly devoted to you. 🎼

Warnings: Cheating, Breakup, Murder (beloved character), Kidnapping, Manipulation, Gaslighting.

Smut: Non-Con(Mind Manipulation), Top!R x PB!Wanda. Degradation, Strap(W), Oral (W), Choking, Squirting.

18+ | Minors DNI

Please, head the warnings, and don’t report.

(Images from Google)

——

Today was an amazing day for you, the mission you went on with Steve and Natasha was the final step taken to make you an Avenger. You were on top of the world after your oldest pal, Steve, shook your hand before yanking you in for a bear hug, "I knew you had it in you kid."

"Steve, I'm only three years younger than you and Buck, and I'm an Avenger now, cool it."

Natasha smirked, then she also pulled you in for a hug, but it was far less brutal, and you found her abundant warmth comforting.

Nothing was meant to ruin your shine today, but as you exited the jet to find only Tony and Yelena stood there your entire mood deflated. Bucky, your older brother was nowhere to be found, but more importantly neither was your girlfriend, and that was becoming her trend.

——

It was like a switch went off one day, and she just decided that living blissfully with you and your pigmy cats in the condo Tony bought for the two of you wasn't her cup of tea anymore.

At first you were devastated by the loss of her affections, but now, you're honestly fine with it. Over the years her loving hold became a bit too tight, a gentle cupping of your cheek turned into a harsh gripping of your chin. A night of passionate love making turned into a war-zone, the mattress no longer a place of solace, but instead a battlefield where you lost your love. It'd been as if a monster dead set on carnality took over your soft Sokovian girlfriend's body, and had no intentions of letting her go again.

It's suffice to say you were expecting her to be absent from your return, but what you weren't expecting was to hear the sound of her moans as you entered the once comforting home. After a moment of being frozen in time, a deja vu like experience for you, you decided that you were jumping the gun in assuming the worst.

So you slipped your jacket off, along with your shoes, then made a beeline for your sleeping felines so you could calm your anxiety down a smidge before you got the courage to pinpoint the source of your girlfriend's clear euphoria.

"Wish me luck loves," you muttered into their fur as you place a kiss to each of their faces.

Sadly though, no amount of preparation could have been enough for the sight you walked in on. Bucky, your found brother, the man who's family took you in after your family died in a plane wreck, was pounding into your lover. There wasn't an ounce of remorse in his stance, and you knew by the way Wanda screamed out in pleasure that she definitely didn't feel bad.

Neither of them acknowledged your presence, but you knew by the sight of Wanda's slight smile that she knew you were there, and that made you sick to your very core. The idea that you'd given her the best years of your life just for her to throw it in your face so devastatingly was far too hard for you to bare in the moment.

All you knew was that you needed to get out, and you needed to do it right away, and it was as you loudly shuffled about the space that finally broke your 'brothers' focus, and got Wanda to see her plan coming to life.

Or better yet, crumbling before her very eyes.

Wanda watched you frantically stuffing your belongings in a duffle bag, and in this moment her every recent decision was backfiring.

"Baby, it was a mistake, please don't leave!"

"Mistakes don't occur with these precise of calculations," you spit while tossing your bag over your shoulder, "Your choices, Wanda, those do however come with consequences."

"Y/N, please, she’s right—it was a mistake."

"No, save your pleading for someone who cares Bucky, as far as I'm concerned my brother died with his arm—James would never have hurt me like this," you shoved by him, only to be stopped by Wanda blocking the front door.

"Y/N/N, I'm begging you, don't leave me!"

A bitter chuckle rumbles from your chest, hot tears too fill your eyes as the anger and sadness blend into one, "Now you," you paused to reel your emotions in as best you could, "God, I can't believe I ever believed you loved me."

"I do love you. Y/N, please listen to me."

"Newsflash Wanda: Love isn't meant to hurt!"

Wanda frowned, her tone serious enough to match her state of delusions, "All the greatest love stories come with a mix of love and pain."

"In Hollywood movies—sure, in real life, no."

Wanda's eyes were slowly changing hues to her secondary shade, crimson, and that was your sign to get out before she was to implode.

"Don't look for me," you reiterated your clear stance, "I'm no longer yours to seek out," and with the twist of your wrist you were gone.

Wanda crumpled to her knees, of all the many scenarios she ran through, this wasn't one of the ones she foresaw. For some reason she thought you'd fall apart, and need her to bring you back out of the slump her cheating caused. Hell, she even chose your brother for the shock but it seems you couldn't have cared any less.

"Wanda," Bucky crouched down, offering her a smile, but it only masqueraded happiness, his cerulean orbs were swimming with guilt.

The sight of the man now made her nauseous.

"Get out Barnes," Wanda snarled, pushing his extended hand away she removed her body from in front of the door, "This was a mistake."

After your defeated, cheat of a chosen brother left your once shared apartment Wanda's eyes returned to a serene shade of green. It was funny how you thought you had a choice here, taking off in a huff like that as if she couldn't find you just as fast as you could teleport.

Wanda however was methodical, she would let you think you were free to roam as you pleased. Then, when you least expected it, she'll reclaim you as hers, because you would always be hers. She just has to set up a few things beforehand.

——

It was a long three months, but the witch was taking the time to set up your cabin in Norway while also giving you a false sense of security.

Back when things were still going well, she remembered your dreams of retiring in a secluded little cabin with her, and your family. Whether that be the pets, or the kids you both had always wanted, logistics didn't matter to her much at the end of the day, only you did.

Her precious baby Y/N, poor, unsuspecting fool that she is, would soon be hers again, and with that came a promise of total permanence.

When she finally returned to New York she could feel your aura, it was no longer dull, and that made her heart twinge with momentary guilt, but it was swiftly forgotten when she stumbled upon you settled into the lap of Yelena at a cafe; she nearly lost all control.

—

You had no idea of the prying eyes, sure you felt an uneasiness in your chest as you walked down the streets of New York with Yelena, but you just chocked that up to the late night hour.

"Y/N, would you like to gaze at the stars?" you smiled softly at your friend, you weren't yet a couple, but it has been fun testing the waters.

Yelena was everything Wanda no longer is, and you’re honestly starting to believe that maybe she never was. Yelena was funny, and though she was snarky, it never was something you experienced directly. With you all she ever offered was an unfamiliar gentleness, and an abundant patience you felt undeserving of, it was as if with every passing day she was able to remind you that you deserved to be cared for without any sort of underlying stipulation.

"Of course, I'll go grab us a blanket," you settled a sweet kiss on her cheek, not missing the way the stoicism melted as she blushed.

"Bring snacks too!" Yelena shouted after you, voice cracking as she did, but you didn't let her know you caught it, instead you softly chuckled then disappeared around the corner. “Chips!”

The further you walked away from Yelena the more you were starting to feel a surge in intensity surrounding your ever growing uneasiness. Stargazing with her was one of your favorite things to do so you’re not sure why you were so anxious, but you chocked it up to something reminiscent of first date jitters.

You entered your apartment with a swiftness, not wanting to leave the blonde waiting for long. So you changed into a comfy sweatsuit, scrounged around the kitchen for her chips, then grabbed your fluffiest of blankets. After about ten short minutes you made your way up the long set of stairs to gain access to the roof. Your apartment building had many faults, but the luxurious patio wasn’t one of them.

“Hey Lena, I brought you Doritos, both cool ranch and nacho, and the off brand hot fries.”

“Y/N, get out of here, now!”

You looked up instantly, the bags in your hands hit the ground as you saw Yelena dangling over the streets of New York, you didn’t see her yet, she was cloaked by shadows, but the wisps of red holding the girl hostage told you who the perp was, “Wanda, put her down, now!”

“Okay,” Wanda shrugged with an indifference in her eyes as she made her self visible, the light of the moon showcasing her wicked grin, effectively stealing the air from your lungs as she slowly began removing her magic from around the young blonde’s body. Agonizingly slowly too, you regretted the words as soon as you said them, of course she’d take it literally.

“No, Wanda, please,” you shrieked, “Let her go, and I’ll go with you, wherever you want me to.”

“I don’t know Y/N,” Wanda pursed her lips as she gave way to thought, “She knew better than to touch what isn’t hers, yet she did it anyways, she clearly didn’t care about consequences.”

“Y/N, you need to get out of here, please go,” Yelena kept her face neutral, but you heard the slight quiver in her voice, saw the fear in her eyes, you knew she was beyond terrified; it was a bit morbid, but the way she cared for you even while in danger because of you warmed your heart while simultaneously breaking it.

“Wanda, she’s just a friend,” you tried, but all she did was offer you incredulous laughter, “You’re playing games Y/N, and you know whenever we play together, I always win.”

“Wanda! This isn’t a game, leave Yelena out of this, we can go, nobody will come for us.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m clueless, they’re all going to come to save you,” Wanda spat, “Yelena isn’t the only one in my way, so, it seems all I can do is slow them down,” she flicked her wrists, and Yelena went falling.

“No!”

Just as you were about to teleport to catch the blonde Wanda paralyzed your mind into a state of half consciousness, she wrapped you up and lifted you above the edge, tilting your body so you were parallel to the second victim of your tainted love, the first one being your own heart. Yelena lay in a jagged shape, limbs bending in ways they were never meant to, in a growing pool of blood, you felt an urge to vomit, but the paralyzation prevented it from ever surging.

“What a shame she had to die,” Wanda mockingly mourned the woman she killed, with a wide smile on her face to contrast the tears trailing down yours, “She was really funny.”

A blur of red surrounded your bodies like a force field, you blinked, never to open your eyes with joy again. It wasn’t something you registered at first, but when you finally allowed your eyes to flutter open you saw glimmering rays of sunlight hovering above your face.

To your shock there was no restraint system in place, besides the hardly dressed body of your ex. You silently retched at the sight of her fitting so perfectly into the crook of your elbow. An image reminiscent of olden times, when you were blissfully unaware of her unhinged status, but no longer could you look at her with love.

Wanda was a monster, that much you would carry in your heart until the day you died. Likely at her hands at this very point…

“I wouldn’t kill you Y/N,” she sighed in a slur, shortly to be followed up by a dainty yawn, “You’re my greatest love Y/N; destined to be forever you and me darling, you’re safe here.”

You scoffed, ripping your arm from beneath her body, “I’m no safer in a volcano than I am with you Wanda, you’re a sick, vile creature!”

Wanda grit her teeth as she moved to hover above you, her hand harshly slapped you in the face, causing a pool of blood to gather as you had bit your tongue, “Watch your tone whore.”

“Make me,” you growled, a flicker of insanity rolled through your eyes and she smirked, you could pretend all you wanted that you weren’t, but you were just as crazy as she was. “I will.”

Wanda removed herself from your eye-line, but she didn’t stay gone for long, soft red wisps permeated your temple, you audibly gasped, “Wanda, knock it the fuck off right now.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, your words were not convincing enough when your thighs were shamelessly rubbing together. Her wrist flicked, changing the imagery in your mind from her in the nude with her hands in her pussy to one of you fucking her from behind.

“Wanda, please stop,” you were losing your will to fight off her advances with every passing scene, each one more sinful than the last, you were always fucking weak when it came to her.

After only three more scenes she’d come out triumphant. “I need to taste you, please.”

“But what about Yelena?” she feigned heartbreak, “I thought we were in mourning.”

“W-Wanda please,” you begged, a pit of need settled beside the deeper pit of guilt in your abdomen, “I, I need to fuck you so bad.”

Wanda snorted, “Look at you, I just killed your girlfriend and you’re desperate to fuck me.”

The glare you sent would normally intimidate the person on the receiving end, but Wanda one upped you with a soft tilting of her head. Just like always you softened, a docile air to you as you let the fear sink into your bones. Wanda smirked at you, a show of victory if you will, because as angry as you presented, she was still the one who wins in the end. You might top, but she’s always the one in control.

With a synchronous blink you both reopened to find all layers had been shred from your bodies and the only addition was the massive black strap dangling between your legs.

“Go on detka, make me cum, I won’t ask twice.”

For a moment you were stuck in place, there was an insane amount of slick coating the inner thighs of your former lover, it left you stunned. Wanda watched as you reflexively licked your lips as you eyed her with lust clouded eyes.

“With your strap, you know tasting me is a reward you have to earn,” you rolled your eyes, but like an obedient puppy you give in, with a care you honestly didn’t feel you guided the tip through her folds to collect her essence, you swiped two fingers through next in route to her swollen bundle of nerves where you began to harshly rub circles into it, distracting her from the pain as you pushed the fat tip past her tight hole. The stretch alone brought her to the edge, she knew it wouldn’t be long before she fell.

There was no love in your movements, you rut your hips with ferocity, grunted into her neck angrily as you were frustrated with yourself for enjoying this twisted reality of sinfulness. Wanda’s moans were enraging you, it was a confusing feeling in your body, you desperately wanted to bring her body to the edge of bliss, while impossibly wanting her to not enjoy it.

“Fuck me harder detka! Make me cum!”

“Shut the fuck up Wanda,” you growled as you rose, a firm hand now sat on her hip to hold you up so you could utilize the other to constrict her airway. Fingers wrapped tightly around her throat as your hips fucked your strap so much deeper into her than before due to a shift in angle, and thus she was losing the ability to match you in both pace and vigor.

Wanda clawed at your arm when you tightened your grip almost dangerously. The fear you caused only aided in the unraveling of the pit in her stomach, her orgasm came out in a gush, soaking your thighs and the grey sheets below.

Even in the hatred of it all you couldn’t fight the way your heart fluttered at the gorgeous sight of her coming undone for you. No one else could ever make her this fucked out, with her eyes having had to of rolled to the depths of hell with how far they retracted into her body.

The way her chest heaved incessantly once you let your grip of her go, dark red lines left in your wake that added to her overall beauty. Layered perfectly over the harsher marks you’d already left behind with your grazing teeth.

Wanda pulled you in for a brief kiss, it was sloppy, and full of a mutual aggression as your teeth clashed, and hers drew blood from your lips when she held onto your lower one while lightly shoving you backwards as a hint to remove the strap from within her, and once again you did as she wanted like a weak bitch.

“Clean up the mess you made,” Wanda barked, spreading her legs even wider for you to see just what you’d done after strapping her, it disgusted you just how excited you were to be allowed to taste her, reaping a tainted reward.

Her words echoed in your mind as you realized the mess spread beyond this room. Because back home your friends mourned, and buried Yelena all the while you were across seas in Norway in a somewhat similar state, immense guilt pounding in your chest as your face was buried between the legs of the devil herself

They always say, to know love is to know pain; loving Wanda was akin to a dagger to the heart, a passionate surge of adrenaline, followed by waves of agony, and boy was it a messy affair.

——

3,196 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn 🥰

#wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff oneshot #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff angst #dark!wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x bucky barnes #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x fem!reader #wanda x you #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader

678 notes · View notes

melodymunson · 2 months

Text

Robin x fem!reader x Steve (Platonic Stobin ONLY!)

Ain't Nobody Loves me better than you

ao3 link

4.4K words

(Platonic Steve x Robin. NOTHING HAPPENS SEXUALLY BETWEEN STEVE AND ROBIN! Best friends Stobin with fem!reader x boyfriend Steve and Robin. All the interactions that are sexual are between Robin and the reader only. The reader is a virgin in terms of not being with a woman. Everyone is in their young 20s in this.)

NSFW warnings: handjob, blowjob, spanking, pussy eating, lesbian sex, usage of toys, dirty talk, pussy worship, p in v sex, double-sided dildo, use of a buttplug on the reader, and anal use of a dildo on fem! reader.

Thank you for beta-reading and for being one of my closest friends @corneliuswatkins

Dedicated to @keeryatmosphere for all our Steve convos and being a good friend!

Inspired partially by an amazing Stobin x reader series by @wtfsteveharrington

Synopsis: The reader works with Steve and Robin in the Family Video and already has an established relationship with Steve. When Robin finds out she likes girls and that they have unrequited feelings for each other, they plan a date night at Steve and the readers' condo.

Dating Steve made you so happy, and he was the one for you. Working together alongside your girl crush Robin was so much fun. You went shopping sometimes together at the Starcourt mall. Most of your friends had left and gone off to college, but Robin and Steve stayed. Robin went to community college locally and you and Steve worked at Family Video, as well as, part-time at a photo development center with her. They were best friends since high school, but once you started working together, you became super close. As an outsider in Hawkins, they made you feel more welcome than anyone else, especially since being the new girl in town was never easy. After working together a few months, the 3 of you were inseparable. Robin always told the best jokes, and you loved her personality. You had so much in common. When Steve asked you out on a date, you accepted. It went well and a week after and 2 more dates; he asked you to be his girlfriend, so of course you said yes.

One night after dating for about half a year, you sat him down to tell him about being into women and what you liked about them. Steve loved that you had so much love for men and women and he was your biggest supporter. He was curious if you had ever been with a woman and you told him no, nothing- except touching and kissing. Now that he knew you felt relieved, and he asked you honestly if you liked any girl. You told him the girl who was the object of your desires was Robin. He was more than alright with this and you discussed the possibility of a threesome after telling Robin about your feelings. Of course, neither of you wanted to pressure her but to take things slowly by asking her out on a date and coming over casually first. A few more weeks passed, but you got up the courage one day to ask Robin to come over when Steve was at work at the photo development center. She eagerly agreed, all smiles, and that Saturday she would come over. Luckily, it was a day off work for everyone.

At around 730, Robin knocked on your door with a bottle of champagne. It was such a pleasant surprise, especially to see her with not only a nice bottle of bubbly but to see her show up wearing one of your favorite outfits. She had on a red tank top and denim shorts. You were wearing your favorite dress and Steve was in a polo button-up blue shirt and black slacks. Once you invited her in, you led her to the dining room. Steve opened up the bottle of champagne and poured glasses for everyone. The centerpiece at the table was a beautiful bouquet of lilies in a vase Steve had bought for you.

"What should we toast to?" Robin questioned as she lifted her glass.

You and Steve raised your glasses as well as you all thought of something to celebrate.

"To good friends and to being friends for many more years," you toasted as your glass moved closer to theirs.

"To be friends forever," Robin agreed.

"To us," Steve replied before everyone clinked their glasses together.

Everyone drank their champagne, and more glasses were poured.

As the bread and pasta were passed around the table and served and the salad put onto plates, you thought about what could happen after the dinner. Over dessert, you wanted to talk about what you wanted with Robin and your true feelings for her. Everyone ate and made small talk discussing the latest movies and TV shows you were all into. Robin was always so easy to talk to and she was so articulate with her words and hands. You couldn't help but fall more for her with every passing moment. Once dinner was over, you served the dessert of Scoops ice cream mint chocolate chip flavored with tons of toppings like chocolate sauce, cherries, candies, and marshmallow fluff. It was so good. Little did you know, but Robin had strong feelings for you too, and shared such a strong bond with you already.

"Thanks again for inviting me over. It's good to see Dingus not wear his work uniform for once," Robin chuckled teasingly before giving his shoulder a friendly pat.

Steve knew tonight would be the night you told her about your feelings.

"I love having you here, Robin. So, have you been on any dates lately?" You ask her sweetly.

"No, just boring lame single land for me."

After she and Vickie went their separate ways, she had a few random flings, although nothing ever grew serious with any other woman.

"Well, you are a catch, Robin, and you will find someone for sure," Steve remarks with a wide smile and a flash of his teeth.

You finished up your ice cream and wiped your mouth with a napkin, trying to work up your confidence to admit your feelings for her.

"Robin, I like you. I know I'm with Steve, but you are the girl of my dreams."

Robin gulped and swallowed. She felt a sense of shyness and a red flush formed on her cheeks.

"I like you too. Since you are with Steve, I never tried anything. I didn't know even if you were into girls."

"Well, I am. I love spending time together. Steve knows, and he's perfectly fine with it."

"It's true Robin I am. I want you and Y/N to have fun together and I trust both of you," Steve admitted as he reached over and gently rubbed your back.

Robin had the biggest smile on her face, and she felt so unbelievably happy.

"Have fun together? As in? What exactly…" she asked, trying to play coy even though she wanted you so desperately and couldn't even care less if Steve watched or was involved.

"Just the two of us. Making love Robin. Steve wouldn't mind it at all."

"That's what I thought you meant. And I mean dingus could join in, I guess, as long as he doesn't touch me. And I don't want him ogling over me."

"You wish," Steve playfully teased her as he realized where this night was about to go and all the possibilities.

You leaned in close to Robin and kissed her. Her lips were soft and plump. She tasted so sweet and she kissed you back with eagerness and passion. The way her lips felt as you touched her clothed breast was enough to make you wet. Steve was watching with a glint in his eyes. He was so turned on from seeing you kiss Robin that he could already feel his cock harden in the strict confines of his pants. You looked back over at Steve once the kiss broke and kissed him, too. Kissing Steve was always fun, and his strong grip on your waist, as he pulled you into him, made you groan against his lips. Robin leaned in close to you, her lips ghosting over your neck before she kissed you again. This made you groan even louder into Steve's mouth. You turned back to Robin and gave her another kiss before getting up from the couch.

"Let's take this to the bedroom now," you told them firmly, more as a command than a suggestion.

They eagerly got up to follow you- no questions asked. As you made your way to the bedroom, you stripped your clothes off. Steve followed suit and Robin did too and soon all 3 of you were on the bed making out again, tongues tangled. As you kissed Steve, Robin played with your breasts, and when you kissed Steve, Robin peppered kisses on your chest. After some time of making out, you fingered yourself, getting wetter than ever for the both of them. They both loved your boobies so much especially Robin.

"Robin, I want you to please my pussy," you begged as you fingered yourself even harder.

Robin replaced your fingers with her own and finger-fucked you- slow at first, but then faster as you moaned her name. She was so hot for you and as she spread your legs even wider; you became more comfortable by laying back against the pillows. Getting up so you and Robin could have more room, Steve sat down on the nearby loveseat in your bedroom and watched as Robin pleased you with her fingers. As she worked her fingers expertly on your clit, you arched your back, your moans getting even louder now. Softly, Steve gasped at being so turned on by the scene of things. He was rock hard and as you looked over at him; you gave him a big grin. Robin licked down your body from your neck down to your chest and nipples, giving each of them equal attention with her mouth, as her fingers continued to fuck in and out of you at a rapid pace, wanting to make you cum. Once she reached your pussy with her mouth, she replaced her fingers with her tongue and wrapped your legs around her shoulders.

"Fuck yes, Robin, just like that," you groaned loudly, gripping the bed sheets beneath you.

As she licked and sucked on your clit, you locked eyes with hers, loving the feeling of her mouth and tongue. She was gentle and sweet with you and it was different with her than being with Steve, but you loved how both of them ate you out. Her tongue eagerly pleased you lapping at your pussy and digging her nails into your thighs and ass as she grinned at you and looked up at you seductively with her pretty eyes.

"You taste so fuckin good. Steve, your girlfriend's pussy tastes like heaven," she filthily groaned before going right back to eating you out and devouring you like it was her last meal on earth.

Steve couldn't help but stroke himself as he watched Robin eat you out.

"She is amazing, isn't she? Her taste is addicting," he groaned as he watched her go right back to pleasing your pussy.

"Robin, that's so fuckin good!" You cried out and arched your back as she hit your g-spot with her fingers and sucked your clit exactly how you liked it.

You watched Steve as he stroked himself and you were even more wet now and closer than ever to orgasm.

"Cum for me, beautiful," she begged you as she slapped your pussy and fingered you.

Your moans grew in crescendo as you fucked her face. As you came, you cried out her name. She kissed up your body, meeting your lips in a kiss so you could taste yourself.

Wasting no time, you got a butt plug from the nearby drawer and oiled it up with lube before inserting it and grabbing a big rubber dildo you planned to share with Robin. As soon as she saw it, her eyes widened.

"Want to make me happy, Robin? Do you want to use this toy with me as I give Steve a handjob?"

"I would love to."

Steve took that as his cue to get up from where he was sitting and go over to the bed. Once Robin adjusted to the size of the toy, you took the other end and inserted the toy inside of you.

"That looks so fuckin hot," Steve commented as he looked at the toy you and Robin were sharing.

"Be a good boy for me, Stevie."

He groaned in response and you rocked on the toy as Robin moved on her end and you stroked his shaft, wanting to please him as you had your fun with her.

Loving nothing more than the feeling of your hand, Steve rocked his hips swiftly and put his hands on them as you gripped his shaft. Robin looked at you longingly, especially at your chest as she moaned softly. The toy felt so good and Steves's cock in your hand made you wet with your slick. You gave equal attention to his shaft and the head of his cock as you rode the toy, groaning at the sight of your pussy as well as hers. Your eyes moved between the toy and your boyfriend's cock as the sounds of wet pussy filled the room. Moving his cock to your mouth, you licked the tip and sucked, loving his taste. He grunted as he rocked his hips and you took him inside your mouth and played with the sensitive buds of your nipples.

"That's it, baby, your mouth feels so good," Steve groaned as he watched you suck him off, taking even more of him into your mouth.

Feeling so close to her release, Robin moaned louder at the sensations from the toy combined with the sight of you playing with your breasts. Getting a steady pace with sucking his cock, you made lewd noises around his dick.

"Be a good girl for me," he encouraged you.

Spitting messily on his dick and rubbing his shaft with your hand, you kissed the tip of his pretty cock. He loved your luscious mouth and how you pleased him as you found pleasure with Robin and the toy in your pussy. You moaned loudly around his thick length.

"Mm s-close already," Robin uttered as she reached out to tweak your nipple, making you gasp in pleasure.

The stimulation from the toy was just about enough to drive you over the edge. You couldn't wait to find your release. Robins's pussy was so pretty, and she was so gorgeous as she rocked back and forth on the toy. Watching her breasts bounce as she rode the other end of the pink dildo, you hollowed out your cheeks to take Steve as best as you could. Not wanting to cum yet, he released his cock from your mouth as you pouted, loving the taste of his perfect cock and already missing it.

"Don't wanna cum yet, baby," he forewarned you.

"Okay, Stevie. Fuck, I'm so close to cumming again."

"Cum all over the toy, my pretty girl," Robin encouraged you as she panted, feeling the toy hit just the right spot, making her cum. Just moments later you were right there cumming with her.

Tossing the toy aside, you embraced her, fondled her breasts, and elicited a loud groan from her.

"I want to taste you so badly, Robin," you moaned into her ear after kissing her passionately and deeply.

"That's what I want more than anything else."

Getting on her back, she spread her legs for you as you got a vibrator to use on her as well that was red. Steve's cock was so hard as he got closer to you, wanting to fuck you more than ever. You also got out a purple glass dildo for him to use on you and handed it to him before whispering in his ear,

"Use the toy on my ass."

Upon hearing this, Steve blushed. He loved ass play with you and being able to pleasure you like this again was such a turn-on for him. Taking the toy from you, he put it aside for the moment. You shook your ass in the air, letting him get a good look at your glistening wet pussy and a good view of your ass and butt plug.

"I need your mouth so much," Robin pleaded with you.

Turning your attention back to her, you got on your hands and knees as Steve came up from behind you and lined himself up at your entrance. He gripped your hips, positioning you on his cock- filling you up with his delicious length. You moaned at the feeling of him now inside and finger-fucked Robin as he thrust inside of you. He went slowly at first- being as sensual as he could to let you get adjusted to how big his length was. Moans escaped your lips and Robin's as you used the vibrator on her pussy. He slapped your ass as you ate her out. She tasted so delicious and you couldn't wait to fuck her with your mouth. Even with the vibrator turned on at its lowest setting, her moans only grew in crescendo for you.

"Fuck this is amazing I love to fuck you, baby," Steve growled as he slapped your ass and took out your butt plug tossing it aside only to replace it with the head of the glass dildo you had picked out.

As you used the vibrator and added your tongue, Robin just about lost it because of your touch, mouth, and how good the toy was working her pussy. Holding her legs down, you licked and sucked on her clit nice and slowly. Her hands tangled in your hair as you ate her out like she was the sweetest and best thing you had ever tasted. Your pretty moans as well as hers could be heard as Steve fucked your ass with the toy and grunted as you rode his cock.

"Harder, Steve. Fuck, you feel so good inside of me. I love your big cock," you cried out for him, moaning as you played with Robin and pleased her pretty pussy.

You hoped you were doing it right for Robin and pleasing her to her liking, but judging from the sounds she was making; you felt like you probably were. The toy was working your ass so well as you clenched around it.

"Mmmm, that feels so fuckin' good," Robin praised you as she rocked her hips and writhed against your tongue and the toy as she bit her lip.

Tonight was all about you and pleasing you. They both wanted you so badly and they loved having you as theirs. Steve was having the time of his life as you rode his cock. Every time you fucked him, it was full of so much passion and now, with Robin in the mix and giving you what Steve couldn't, you truly were experiencing the best of both worlds.

Between Steve's thrusts and groans, Robin's moans, and the feeling of the toy in your ass, you wanted more than anything to come undone for them. You were close to your release, and couldn't wait to cum for him and taste all of her sweet juices as she came for you. The feeling of Steve filling you up with his cum was always one of the best experiences for you. He always took care of you and was the perfect lover- never selfish or rude, but always attuned to your needs and desires/wants.

"I want to cum for you, Steve. So close now, sir," you mewled as he hit your sweet spot with his cock.

The added stimulation from the toy made you want to cum. Robin was on the brink from the vibrations of the toy you were using on her clit as you deeply tongued her pussy and made her cry out in ecstasy for you.

"Cum for me baby, I'm so close too," Steve warned you now rubbing circles on your clit with one hand as his other hand still worked the toy so deeply inside of your ass.

"A little lower. Fuck! I love your tongue," Robin gasped and prettily groaned as you ate her out to her liking, moving your tongue lower and earning even more praise from her.

"Yes, perfect! Fuck, that's the spot!" She uttered in response, stifling a loud moan as you looked up at her and ate her out getting into it. She tasted so fuckin' good and sweet. Steve kept fucking you and watching your pretty ass as you rode his cock. He wanted desperately to make you cum and loved the sight in front of him.

The sensations, tastes, and feelings you were experiencing as you pleased this woman and Steve pleased you, were truly wonderful. All of your love for them was so strong and you couldn't imagine life without them. Everything with Steve and Robin was the best experience ever.

"That's it hunny take my cock like a good little slut. Be a good girl for me babe," Steve encouraged you as you mewled and whimpered, riding his cock, getting closer than ever to chasing your high.

Robin was so close and Steve was right there with you as sweat beaded on his brow. Having you like this in between him and Robin was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Making you feel good was his top priority, and Robin was pleasuring you with a woman's touch, and it was intoxicating. Everything with both of them was addicting.

"Fuck, I need to cum. Steve, Robin, I'm g-gonna," you warned them as you were practically driven over the edge by his cock and the incredibly sweet taste of her pussy. You hungrily ate her out as he fucked you and squeezed your ass.

"Cum for us," Robin encouraged you between moans, her eyes locked on yours.

You came so hard and Steve was there for you, loving the feeling of your wet pussy on his cock.

"Y/n I'm going to cum. With that tongue of yours, I can't resist," Robin groaned, getting to the brink of orgasm.

You responded by fingering her deeper and sucking her clit as Steve watched, about to bust inside of you.

"Fuck baby, I'm going to cum too," Steve admonished you as he felt his cock twitch inside of you as he thrust harder.

"Cum in me Steve. Cum all over my tongue, Robin," you requested them as you breathed heavily and felt Steve's cock begin to cum so deep inside of you as he rubbed your clit and practically overstimulated you getting you close to cumming again.

Robin thrust her hips, raising them even higher into your mouth. She loved to fuck that pretty mouth of yours. As she held onto your hair, holding it back, you tasted her sweet juices as she threw her head back and caressed her breasts, all while arching her back off the bed and calling out your name.

"That's it, baby, take my cum hunny," Steve praised you as he watched it drip down your legs and inner thighs- his fingers still working your clit so expertly.

"That feels so good! Fuck that mouth of yours will be the death of me," Robin gasped as she collapsed on the bed post-orgasm.

You felt your next orgasm come crashing over you as Steve worked his fingers inside of you. His lips met yours, practically devouring you, as he removed the toy from ass and put it aside.

Breathless and all fucked out, the three of you took comfort and solace in each other's arms as you lay in between them. The experience truly was one of the best nights and you couldn't wait to do it all over again someday.

"I loved that so much," you enthused feeling such euphoria. The experience was so passionate, loving, tender, and sensual.

Steve and Robin looked at you so lovingly and affectionately as you basked in the afterglow of post orgasm.

"I loved it too, baby. Having Robin here too was something else. I mean that in the best way possible," Steve admitted with a huge grin on his face.

"You are such a dingus, Steve. I had the best time with your girlfriend."

"We should do this more," you blurted out as your face turned pink and you blushed.

Robin ran lazy circles over your arm as Steve held your hand.

"If Robin will still have us."

"Let me think about it… Umm, yes! I loved every minute."

"Good. I don't want to give either of you up."

After that night together, Robin came over a lot more to hang out, watch movies, cook, bake, play board games, and just be with you and Steve. With her, though, things just felt right, and even though many people wouldn't understand your relationship dynamic, you still wanted them. You chose them every single day, and they chose you in return. As long as the 3 of you were happy together, that was all that mattered. Robin was your first time with a girl, and you were so happy it was with her. It was more than just the sex with them- so much more. They loved you and you had so much love for them. Date nights were special and romantic and their presence made you happier than you ever had been before. You fell more in love with her daily, and your love for Steve grew stronger, too. There were lots of dates and you spent so much time together having the time of your lives. Every date was special and as long as you had your 2 favorite people by your side, you had the best time of your life. You were happier than you ever were. Eventually, Robin moved in and had her room for her stuff, but you slept in the same bed. What was once just yours and Steve's was now hers, too.

One year, you even opened your own bakery/cafe and coffee shop with Robin and Steve. Working together was like living the dream. Loving them was the best thing ever and gave you so much happiness. When Dustin, Max, Mike, Lucas, Elle, and Will were older, you told them about your relationship as a happy and content throuple. They were overjoyed for the 3 of you and just wanted all of you to be happy. It didn't change any of their feelings for you, and your friendship with them stayed strong. Anyone who couldn't be happy for you did not have a place in your life and didn't deserve one, either. All holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries were celebrated with your boyfriend and girlfriend; you loved them so much. You fell in love with them more and more and being with 2 people just worked. They fit perfectly in your life and you would never give them up for anything or trade them for anything in the world. Eventually, you were pregnant with little nuggets and all over the moon about it. You had a small wedding ceremony that was private with only your closest friends and family after Steve proposed to you. Even though you were only legally married to Steve, Robin was just as much a part of it and you considered her your wife. The months of your pregnancy were filled with so much love and pampering from them and once you gave birth to twins, they were there with you to hold them first and get you anything you needed. Life with your new family brought you so much joy and you wouldn't have it any other way.

tag list @impmunson @bimbobaggins69 @somethingvicked @babygorewhore @inourtownofhawkins @undead-supernova @ali-r3n @harringtonfan4 @koskeepsake @munson-mjstan @bunnsandroses @steveslittlesunflower @emsgoodthinkin @jadeylovesmarvelxo @zestychili @s6raphic @probablyin-bed @corrodedcorpses @dollalicia @ofhawkinsandskippy @keeksandgigz @hcwthewestwaswcn @emmyshortcake @geeky-introvert @lovelythoughtfulcupcake @xxbimbobunnyxx @jozstankovich @djoekeeryy @shescreamslikeachild @mrprettywhenhecries

soundtrack

Chaka Khan-Ain't Nobody The Pointer Sisters - I'm So Excited DEF LEPPARD - "Pour Some Sugar On Me" Måneskin - I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE Scorpions - Believe In Love David Bowie - Modern Love Queen-Love Of My Life Freddie Mercury - Love Me Like There’s No Tomorrow Queen - Crazy Little Thing Called Love Extreme - More Than Words Ratt - You're In Love Tesla - Love Song Dokken - Heaven Sent Halestorm – Still of The Night (Whitesnake Cover) Mötley Crüe - You're All I Need Halestorm - I Want You (She's So Heavy) (The Beatles Cover) Hot Love - Twisted Sister

#stranger things #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley x reader #steve harrington x fem reader #robin buckley x fem reader #stobin #platonic stobin #steve and robin #platonic with a capital p #steve harrington fic #robin buckley fic #steve harrington oneshot #robin buckley oneshot #stranger things fic

81 notes · View notes

thefreakandthehair · 5 months

Text

⚾️ rounding third, sliding home update ⚾️

chapters nine and ten now live: here on ao3 -> or, start from the beginning!

He scrolls to the side and stares at that picture from the diner, with Eddie staring at Steve as he signs the little boy’s baseball card. Everything felt so new then, the butterflies in his chest outweighing the heavy stone he remembers sinking in his stomach. Even then, Eddie had known Steve would leave eventually but he’d allowed himself to look at Steve like this— wide eyed and bewildered— and fall ass over ankles in love with him. Sometimes, risks don’t pay off. Eddie sighs and runs a hand down his face, covering his eyes for a brief moment before swiping back to Steve’s feed. The further down Eddie scrolls, the further into Steve’s past he dives— previous seasons with the Dodgers, formal dinners and celebrations he can’t name, moving day when he found his beachfront Malibu condo, his first game with the Dodgers, all the way back to his Minor League days with the Loons. There’s one that piques his interest, one that he hadn’t noticed in his recent scrolls down memory lane. It’s from a few years ago at Steve’s signing day with the Dodgers. Young Steve, still sporting a babyface before he grew his stubbly mustache, smiles at the camera in his suit with a Dodgers baseball cap fitted over his hair. His smile is contagious and Eddie can’t help but smile along with Young Steve. He pinches on the image to zoom-in, moving the picture around to gather every last detail. Eddie releases the zoom and accidentally likes the picture. He likes the picture from five years ago at nearly three o’clock in the morning and his phone promptly goes black as his battery dies.

@steddiebang @hbyrde36 @steddieasitgoes @sidekick-hero @sharpbutsoft @cuoredimuschio @kkpwnall @starryeyedjanai @scarcrossdlvrs @marvel-ous-m @pearynice @judasofsuburbia @fastcardotmp3 @shares-a-vest @hellion-child @pumpkinspicestevie @delta-piscium @perseus-notjackson @withacapitalp @hereforanepilogue @stevethehairington @t-boyeddie @theheadlessphilosopher @imfinereallyy @hexiewrites @maxineholtzmann @starrystevie @steddieas-shegoes @goodolefashionedloverboi @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @hellfiredemon @wynnyfryd @vecnuthy @sungods-healingg @antithetical-dream-girl

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steddiebang23 #steddie big bang #st fic #myfic #rounding third sliding home

65 notes · View notes

powderblueblood · 5 months

Note

STEVE HARRINGTON X MILLION DOLLAR MAN !!!!

( idk if that’s what you meant 😭 pls delete if it’s not <3 )

send me 🎵+ character name and i’ll write a lil blurb inspired by a song from their playlist (you can also request songs and i will do my level best. god is a dj and i'm god)

▶ MILLION DOLLAR MAN - LANA DEL REY

you've got the world, but baby at what price? or how falling in love with notorious conman steve harrington began your career as a fence of stolen jewelry.

an: @stveharringtn cherry how the fuck did you know that i've been sitting on a conman!steve au for what feels like a hundred thousand years. PERFECT SONG PERFECT CHOICE lets begin i hope you like it

warnings: my blatant obsession with the oceans eleven cinematic universe and pathological need to create a heist au out of EVERYTHING. and CUSSING IS IN THIS TOO.

word count: 2.5k

MIAMI BEACH, 1990

“Whatever happened to a good old-fashioned safe?”

“I don’t trust a safe. I don’t trust me, I don’t trust you, and I most definitely don’t trust a safe.”

Dustin Henderson dangerously toes the edge of squawking, but he doesn’t know any better. At this point in his career as a thief, he doesn’t understand that when Steve Harrington says he doesn’t trust anyone, it’s not dismissive. It’s simply a missive, a fact of life. Everyone’s got knives, everyone’s got backs. Stands to reason that someone’s going to thrust and someone is going to get stabbed.

Steve likes to take all the necessary precautions.

He doesn’t trust anyone.

“But her you trust?”

Robin Buckley’s tone is hard. Robin Buckley is the only person that Steve could imagine himself trusting, and even so, they keep each other at an imperceptible arm’s length. To the outside world, they’re bosom buddies, best friends eating dirt together. But they both understand the business that they’re in.

They keep their knives sharp.

They take all the necessary precautions.

So why the fuck is Steve bringing an outsider into the ring.

“I never said that.” Steve grabs a coaster and pointedly puts it where Robin might next aim her beer bottle, dripping with incriminating condensation. All over his agarwood coffee table.

“It was inferred.” Robin pointedly puts the bottle down– to the far left of the coaster. Fuck you.

“I don’t see how that’s my problem.” Fuck you right back.

“I know why he’s not using a safe,” Eddie Munson crows from the near background, wiping ash from his face. Eddie Munson, munitions expert. Eddie Munson, expert in blowing up any conversation within a three mile radius. Detonation test, by the way, that’s why his face is covered in shit.

Steve holds out a hand–stop right where you are–before he can reach the agarwood table.

“Because he’s–” and proceeds to make that finger in hole gesture that doesn’t crack a single smile in the room. Not even Dustin Henderson’s, mostly due to the fact that it’s happening behind his head. “Because he’s fucking her.”

“It’s not that,” Steve and Robin say in unison, with Steve’s eyes narrowed on Eddie and Robin’s eyes trained unmercifully on Steve.

It’s not that. They’re right. It’s worse.

There’s something psychosexual about the game of tennis. The grunting, the tiny little skirts, the whacking of balls. The amount of money rich people love to spend on it. There’s something evil here, and you’ve committed yourself to a summer of trying to figure it out.

Well, half-committed. Your real commitment is making enough tips to make a dent in your looming student loans. Post-graduation, a friend had given you a hot tip about private tennis clubs in Miami. They use hundos like napkins there, girl. Go get your piece.

Your nana lives in Miami. Lived. She’s dead now, three months. You’re living in her condo now– technically in a seniors complex, assisted living type of thing, but it’s okay. It’s quiet. The people chat and force you to play bocce ball sometimes, the only sport you understand.

Tennis, you don’t understand, other than the fact that these people have more money than they know what to do with and they’re all too repressed to grunt in the privacy of their own homes.

After a time or two taking drink orders and bringing their rackets for in-house repair, they all blend into the same amorphous blob– the white outfits-on-white people effect does not help. They tip you in enormous digits, confident that you’ll remember them and treat them right, but you don’t have that skill. Some of your co-workers do, but you don’t.

So, you notice when someone stands out.

You smell him before you see him, and you know how that sounds, but bare with–

The thickening, insistent incense smell of patchouli. Rainwater. Dust. Lemon.

When you turn from your place behind the bar, fetching your eighth double vodka soda in what seems like as many minutes for another bleach-blond man in his mid-forties, he’s leaning with one elegant elbow propped on the marble top. Sunglasses push over a shock of brown hair, streaked with blonde from the Florida sunshine.

“Macallan, buddy. Up.” But he’s not talking to you. He’s talking to the bartender, Trent, the picture of incompetence. Trent nods to him, smiling broadly, but that flattens into a hard line as he turns toward the bar.

This guy politely turns his head, eyes glossing right over you. But you are just staring a bullet hole right though him, and you can’t help it. He’s magnetic. He’s dressed in a light blue linen suit, a far cry from the tennis uniforms or the hollering Versace shirts every other man in the place seems to be wearing. The slope of his shoulders suggest something… provincial.

He’s not a city boy– man. This is a man.

You hear a clatter to your immediate right and see Trent pouring a finger of Chivas into a tumbler.

“Oh, Trent, that’s not–”

He passes it off to the linen gentleman, this Miami cowboy, with a serene smile. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a Chivas and a Macallan, but you would.

And you bet he would too.

He departs in a cloud of the same heavenly scent he’d arrived in, heading courtside to watch trust fund kids fumble over backhands.

“Trent,” you say, reaching for the correct bottle and a fresh tumbler. “Meet Macallan. For next time, okay?”

The blond kid just shrugs at you. “All that shit tastes the same to me.”

To you.

You linger near the arm of his chair before speaking, suddenly able to hear your pulse in your ears. Up close, you can see moles dotting the hand holding the errant glass of Chivas. A big hand too, it seems to dwarf the crystal.

“Excuse me,” you say, as steady as you can manage. It’s not very steady. You wish you would’ve thought to check your makeup before you made a beeline out here, but time, you couldn’t help but feel, was of the essence.

He looks up at you over his sunglasses and you think your knees might buckle.

Eyes like a dark wood. Inviting you in. The kind of eyes that don’t look through you.

Christ, people had been looking through you all summer, but it didn’t matter now.

“Is that the Macallan?” he mumbles conspiratorially.

You just– nod, uniform-required ponytail bouncing.

“I’ll trade you,” he says, about to pass off the glass of Chivas, but then he pauses. Takes you in, surveying you in a way that makes you blush, “if you can finish this one with me.”

“Um…”

“Is that allowed?” he asks, “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Trouble be damned. The hell with trouble. Not only is your reputation as a little worker bee here untarnished, you can’t not sit with him.

“I’m due a break, actually.”

“So I’ll trade you. Sit down, get comfortable. Give me the scoop on these tennis brats.”

He leans in to take the glass of Macallan from you, to pass off the glass of Chivas, and he brushes your hand. You experience the full entirely of a cliche, feeling electricity thrum under your skin– but then he passes a fingertip over the ring finger of your right hand.

“That’s a pretty piece,” he hums, “Princess, right?”

For a second, you falter. Princess? Me? But it’s the ring he’s referring to– the yellow diamond engagement ring that once belonged to your nana.

“Close!” you say, twisting the band on your finger in an act of self-consciousness. “Carré cut. Less pricey than a princess.”

“But just as pretty.”

“And more rare, actually.”

“Huh,” he says, and you smooth your skirt out with one hand, taking the seat nearest him. Enveloping yourself in the cloud of him. “Rarer than a princess.”

From the court, a headband-wearing pre-teen in dazzling whites hollers fuck you, Mommy! Fuck you and your fucking bullshit topspin! I fucking hate this place!

“I’ll drink to that.”

NEW YORK CITY, 1995

The car door slams behind Dustin Henderson, raindrops rolling from the brim of his baseball cap. It’s late November and a freezing rain has descended upon the Diamond District.

Steve had at least hoped he might see sunshine when he got out of the joint.

From the wheel, he cranes his neck to the back seat where Dustin sits, wiping the dripping water from the hat’s beak. His Thinking Cap. He’s had that thing since he was a kid and has somehow managed to keep it in immaculate condition. Dustin loves details. Dustin also loves risk. Which is why he’s the only man for this recon job.

“Tell me,” Steve says, tone as level as he can possibly keep it.

“She is way hotter than I remember.”

“Dustin.”

“Miami always makes people less hot. I think it’s the heat,” the kid chuckles, an obvious attempt at lightening a tense mood. See, they weren’t supposed to be here. They weren’t supposed to be looking for you. Robin hadn’t said don’t go looking for her, but that more or less should have been in the terms of Steve’s release from Sing Sing.

��Dustin.”

“She’s in there, just like you said she’d be in there. It’s a white room and it’s got every kind of goddamn sparkler you could think of. Three layers of security. Three. What kind of jewelry store you ever been to that’s got three layers of security?”

A detail like that would make a less accomplished thief sweat. But Dustin and Steve share a knowing smile.

“A jewelry store selling stolen jewelry.”

“Exactly,” Dustin nods. “I thought she’d be front-of-house, but she’s got her own office. Tucked away in the corner. Appointment only.”

“Any availability?”

The younger man smirks. “For me or for you?”

Buddy’s is the last place in midtown you can get a decent drink and not be surrounded by throngs of yuppies.

You know this, because you tend to date the yuppies in the throng.

This is the one place that seems to be universally avoided by the trader set– it’s too dark and wooden in here, no brutalist architecture to make them feel at home while they rail lines of coke off their girlfriend’s compact mirrors.

At Buddy’s, there’s a pianist that’s been propping up the corner for the last half century, minimum. A carpet that’s never been shampooed spreads across the floor and the mahogany is dented in all the places the light doesn’t hit. You can smoke indoors. Everything Happens to Me by Chet Baker will play, and everything feels like it’s going to be alright. At least until happy hour ends.

You have a regular seat by the bar, a vantage point for people-watching. A gin martini, hold the vermouth, sits waiting for you by the time you arrive. On an average Thursday, you spend a couple of hours drinking three of these in an act of decompression from the violent fluorescent lighting of your workplace. From peering through a looking glass, examining the way light refracts through gemstones.

From moving cargo that isn’t yours to move.

This Thursday has been no different.

You drag a finger along the condensation of your martini glass, it’s perfect conical shape a welcome weight in your hand.

Your hair is piled up on top of your head, and you wear your reading glasses, and though you are beautiful, no one bothers you. Nothing bothers you.

Until you hear a sound you haven’t heard in years.

Tapping, against the bartop. One, one. Two, two. Three, three. Nerves. It was the only time you could ever tell that he was nervous.

“Macallan, buddy. Up.”

Fucker.

He knew you by every single detail about you, let’s get that straight.

He is entirely sure that in a room of a thousand clones of you, he would be able to pick out the real one, just from your minute sigh. From the way your one shoulder always slopes. From curl at the base of your neck.

From the way you play with your grandmother’s Carré cut diamond, still sitting pretty on your right hand.

He positions himself a number of seats away from you, from the seat that he’s been watching you sit at for a couple of nights in a row now. He does not approach you directly.

Partially to see if you’ll still remember him.

Steve is still vain, in his ways. He wants a spotlight shone on him.

He only ever remembers the warmth of yours.

He orders the same drink he ordered that day you met at the tennis club, the same way. He even hopes the bartender will mistake the Chivas for the Macallan and you’ll have to climb over the bar and charmingly correct him. But Antoine, as he’s heard you call him, has been behind this bar longer than Saint Peter at the pearly gates, so there’s no fear of that.

You don’t react right away, and he doesn’t expect you to. He savors it, in fact, the opportunity to slyly watch you. Even if you’re seething. Even if you’re seething, you’re seething like a goddess might seethe. Horrifying and beautiful, all at once. The definite end of him.

Then, the lack of attention you’re showing him stretches on a beat too long.

“Excuse me,” he says from his spots a couple of seats down, “Can you do me a favor?”

You don’t respond. This doesn’t stop him. Never has.

“You mind tasting this for me?” Steve pushes the glass toward you, sending it sliding down the bar. You catch it with your right hand, yellow diamond catching in the light. A cut like that has never sparkled until you’ve worn it. “You think that’s Macallan or Chivas? Be honest.”

Steve’s fingers flex unconsciously as you lift the glass. Tilt it toward your lips. Still making no eye contact. But you don’t sip.

“I think you should be in prison,” you say into the crystal tumbler and place it back on the bar top. “Why the fuck are you not in prison.”

Steve closes the space between you, taking in that powdery perfume you’re still wearing after all this time. Candied violets. He settles into the beside you and props his palm under his chin.

“Why are you selling stolen jewelry.”

He sees you tense for a brief moment, then release. Like you knew he’d say that, like you should have seen that coming. Because you know him, and you always see him coming. Other than Robin, you’re the only one that ever has.

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

“So that when some bastard in a bad linen suit asks me to hold on to some stolen jewelry, I’ll at least know how much it’s worth.”

A beat. You stare Steve down with such naked disdain that his heart twists in his chest. You hate him, and he sees that, and with all the evidence stacked up against you, he should hate you too. But that wasn’t what bit him.

“That suit wasn’t bad, Princess.”

#powder room talk #stveharringtn #s. harrington by powder #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x f!reader #heist au #conman!steve you will live forever unlike danny ocean who is apparently dead.#stranger things fic #published by powder #blurbs #clear cut

59 notes · View notes

loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 ao3

Steve doesn’t exactly dispute Eddie’s words, but he does manage to smile and laugh again (“Oh, God, huh?”), a little dance out of sincerity that Eddie lets him get away with—because it’s late, and for a moment, Steve had pressed his forehead against Eddie’s before drawing back, and it felt something close to a thank you.

Steve leads the conversation into how hilarious Dustin had been, how he took the bait every single time Robin had tried to rile him up. Eddie follows easily, quips back with meandering movie commentary so that it doesn’t really matter if either of them loses the thread of it, doesn’t matter if their conversation dissolves into softly spoken, unfinished sentences and the occasional yawn…

He doesn’t know which one of them falls asleep first.

Just knows that at some point, he seems to wake at random.

The room is still dark, but they’d left a lamp on at the side of the couch, so Eddie blinks through the temptation to just shut his eyes again. Looks over to see Steve’s face twitching in sleep, mouthing something soundlessly.

His eyebrows are knitted in quiet distress: not a full blown nightmare, not yet, but it could turn into one.

“Not…” Steve says, and even as the weight of dreaming dulls his voice, Eddie can hear the determination in it.

“Hey,” Eddie murmurs.

Steve’s eyes are moving underneath his eyelids. “Not… Max. Not Max.”

It sounds like a promise. A litany.

“Hey,” Eddie repeats. He shuffles a little closer. Hopes that even in an awful memory, Steve can sense that he’s not alone. “Steve.”

Steve’s hand moves, and then he’s pinching the skin just before his thumb. Eddie knows that technique, has used it himself while getting tattoos done—pinching there to try and stop himself from feeling pain coming from anywhere else.

“Not…” Steve’s breathing catches. “You won’t… touch them.”

“You’re not there anymore,” Eddie says quickly. He strokes a finger along Steve’s knuckles, reassured when Steve’s hand starts to go lax—it doesn’t look like he’ll need to wake him up.

“it’s over, Steve, it’s all over. You’re safe, so’s Max. Everyone’s fine, okay?”

He has to say it a few times, but eventually Steve begins to settle.

His hair is falling into his eyes again. Eddie lightly moves the strands away without a thought—keeps his thumb there, smoothing across Steve’s brow until the frown lines gradually disappear.

And then Steve stirs at the touch. Sighs in his sleep. “Eddie.”

Eddie holds his breath. But Steve doesn’t wake up, just turns his cheek further into a cushion. His breathing is calm and deep.

God, you’re beautiful, Eddie thinks. The thought seems to rise from somewhere in his chest. He holds it close, aches with it.

He doesn’t want to let it go.

“You’ve got a call,” Steve says around a mouthful of cereal, when Eddie heads back downstairs after a shower.

“Ooh, I’ve got a call,” he says smirking, “you sound like a secretary.”

And that’s how he finds out that Steve had just left the phone dangling so that whoever’s on the other end can listen in on everything. Because when he picks it up with a, “Hello?”, he hears—

“Turn my back for one minute, and you’ve got a secretary,” Wayne says, amused. “Ain’t you going up in the world?”

“S’the company I’m keeping, Wayne.”

He catches Steve’s eye as he says it, laughs when Steve mouths, Don’t make me sound like a dick.

“That so?”

And while the smile in Wayne’s voice is still there, Eddie can also hear him trailing off in thought.

“Wayne?”

“We’ve got a new place.”

They’ve been given a condo—not too out of the way from Forest Hills so the surrounding area still feels reassuringly familiar. The size of the rooms doesn’t differ all that much, either: larger than the trailer’s rooms had been, sure, but not so big that it’s daunting, none of that eerie, echoey feel.

The layout of the kitchen and living room is different enough—the walls white, the fridge slightly to the left—so Eddie dares to think he might not keep seeing Chrissy out of the corner of his eye.

And his new bedroom has that freshly aired smell of a space that’s recently been painted; the blankness of it means that the memory of Steve sitting right on the carpet, eyes rolling back, is no longer quite as close.

But it also means…

“It doesn’t feel ours yet,” he says, turning back to look at Wayne leaning in the doorway.

Wayne hums thoughtfully, a sound that’s more an acknowledgement rather than a point blank agreement. He knocks on the doorframe, runs his hand down the wood.

“We’ll make it work.”

Wayne’s brought the electric guitar over, and seeing it propped against the wall helps reduce the blankness of the place a little—it’s then that Eddie realises he’d left the acoustic over at Steve’s, unplayed since the hospital.

But there are a couple of things he has remembered.

Wayne chuckles when Eddie brings out Robin’s mugs.

“What in God’s name are those?”

“Housewarming gift, Wayne, don’t be rude.”

Wayne nods at the neon polkadots. “Think I’ll need sunglasses to use that one.”

But his eyes soften when Eddie explains where the mugs came from, and he picks up the homemade ones, makes their first coffee in them.

Eddie smiles at Wayne clinking their mugs together. As toasts go, it’s more of an unusual one.

They don’t say anything; they don’t need to.

They go on a grocery store run, and the woman on the register only does a double take without uttering a word, which Eddie counts as a success.

After lunch, they watch T.V, old reruns of quiz shows where whenever Wayne cuts in with the right answer, Eddie accuses him of cheating: “You’ve seen this one before.”

It feels weird, to not have to intermittently hit the top of the T.V so the picture stays clear. Feels weird to be able to do this at all, almost like they’ve picked up from how Spring Break should’ve rightfully begun.

Almost.

Wayne gives Eddie a pointed look before he leaves for work, says that he can drop him off ‘somewhere.’ The offer would be easy to take, but Eddie shakes his head, insists that he’s fine. He’s honestly not completely sure why he does. Maybe he’s trying to prove something to himself. He lasts just over an hour after Wayne leaves, and then the silence starts to get to him. There’s a wall mounted phone in the kitchen. He picks it up and dials before his brain can play any sort of flashback on repeat.

“Just thought I’d check the line’s working,” he says, and Steve’s answering laugh seems to banish some of the shadows he’s watching creep up the wall.

“Yeah. Well, it works,” Steve says. “Hey, it’s, um… it’s quiet without you.”

It’s not true; Eddie can hear a definite ruckus going on in the background, what sounds like Dustin and Erica ragging on each other. But he thinks he already knows that’s not what Steve means.

That what he’s really saying is Come back.

“New place is good,” Eddie says evasively, as Robin takes competing takeout orders from Dustin and Erica. “And I, uh.” He gestures at the acoustic guitar in his arms. “Realised I forgot this, so.”

Steve smiles. When he speaks, his voice is low, like this is just for them. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Do what?”

A shrug. “You know. Come up with, like… an excuse or something. ‘Cause I…” He looks right into Eddie’s eyes, honesty shining through. “I like having you here.”

Eddie is saved from answering when he strums the guitar strings almost without thinking, winces at the sound.

“Sorry, baby. Been neglecting you.”

Erica snorts, comes to sit astride the top of the couch by Eddie’s shoulder. “Wow. Should we leave you two alone?” she says archly.

“Oh, gross,” Dustin says.

“Hey, pipe down,” Steve says. “Maybe I woke up ‘cause Eddie was so…” He tilts his head questioningly. “Flat?”

Mid-tuning, Eddie fights a smile. “I was sharp, but sure, I’ll take it. Whatever got us there, y’know?”

For a moment, Steve looks touched. “Yup. First thought I had was man, I’ve gotta tell him how incredibly bad he is at that.” But his tone is just on the cusp of being too soft to really pull off the insult.

“If out of tune stuff worked,” Erica says, “we would’ve just had Dustin sing at you.”

Robin’s hiccuping laughter drowns out Dustin’s protests. And then Eddie hears both Steve and Erica launch into…

“Okay, seriously.” Eddie grins. “What is it with that song?”

Dustin glowers. “If any of you say shit, you’re dead to me.”

Robin ruffles his hair. “Ooh, I’m scared.”

“Okay, relax, Henderson,” Steve says. “Talent or, uh, lack of aside, I don’t think singing your own favourite song would’ve—”

“NeverEnding Story is not my favourite song.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Dude. You don’t need to pretend to be cool, or—”

“It’s not!”

“It’s Take On Me,” Erica says.

Dustin points at her. “Thank you.”

Erica shrugs. “It’s probably mine, too.”

Eddie gives a final strum, satisfied with the results. “Why?”

“Yeah, why?” Steve echoes. He sounds genuinely curious.

Dustin’s expression so perfectly says You’re being stupid, you’re lucky I love you that Eddie has to cough a laugh into his sleeve.

“Steve. Hello? Last summer.”

“What?”

“When you tried to sing every high note. Tried.”

“Surprised all the neighbourhood dogs didn’t start chasing after your car,” Erica says.

“Oh.” Steve looks like he’s both moved and embarrassed at the same time.

Robin laughs. “Yeah, that’s right!” She looks at Eddie says, “It was, like, what, a few weeks? Yeah. A few weeks after Starcourt, um, was no more, and Steve, he just pulls up at my house, wearing sunglasses, and goes.” She mimes tilting said glasses down her nose. “He goes, ‘Hop in. We’re going on a wild ride.’ Which, like, turned it to be a ride to the nearest ice-cream parlour out of town with these two schmucks, so—”

“Hey, it was.” Steve clicks his fingers. “What’s it called? Exposure therapy.”

“Yeah, because it was the ice-cream that was traumatic,” Erica says.

“The hot fudge at that place was lukewarm,” Dustin points out. “That was pretty traumatic.”

Eddie plucks out a few notes to Take On Me, and Steve laughs, shakes his head.

“Nope, not singing.”

“Leaving the dogs in peace, Harrington?” Eddie asks.

Erica giggles, and Dustin and Robin both boisterously start impersonating Steve singing anyway—and Eddie thinks about how something as simple as all of this says so much.

Robin, Dustin and Erica don’t stay that long—Erica’s parents want her back before eight, and that prompts Robin to offer her a ride home, which Dustin accepts too, as he’s also staying over with Lucas.

Technically, Eddie could’ve gone with them, got a ride back to the condo. Hell, he could’ve ordered a cab with just the prospect of sitting in uncomfortable silence for ten minutes.

He doesn’t.

Because while Robin was corralling the kids into their jackets, Steve had tapped Eddie on the wrist, just once. Murmured casually, “Hey, you’re staying, right?”, like he was expecting it.

Still.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Eddie finds himself saying when they’re alone. “It’s just—”

“Shut up,” Steve says, so obviously fond that Eddie is immediately set at ease. “I meant what I said. Besides, I can be—like, if I really didn’t want you here, you’d know about it, trust me.”

Eddie smirks. “Yeah, forgot that you could be a passive-aggressive bitch when you wanted to be.”

“God, I wish that had been my title at school.”

“Oh, it was—in my head, at least. You got plenty, actually, there was a mental list.”

“Do I wanna know?”

“Well, since you’re asking…”

But Eddie drops the list barely halfway through. Clears his throat and says, “Hey. Thanks. It’s just… the new place, man, I’m fucking grateful to have it, don’t get me… It just.” He bites back a sigh. “Doesn’t feel like home right now.”

Steve nods. “You don’t need to… I get it, Eddie.”

And oh, Eddie thinks, you really do, don’t you?

#the self sacrificial steve agenda #steddie fic #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie and wayne munson #steve and dustin #steve and erica #steve and robin

231 notes · View notes

gaysindistress · 1 year

Text

Sad girl - fourteen

summary: James has an interesting new business proposal and one hell of a condition to deal with.

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: cursing, Bucky’s smartass, the feelings, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), sub Bucky if you squint.

word count: 2.1k

part 13 | series masterlist

taglist: @missvelvetsstuff @angelsincident @spencerreidisagorgman @i-have-no-life-charlie @esposadomd @reader-without-a-story @unaxv @iateall-yourcookies @alana4610 @kandis-mom @beware-my-thorns @ozwriterchick @littlelizardlizzie @goldensunflowe-r @wh0reforbucknasty @cjand10 @katymae12344 @vickie5446

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

Nat had become her glam squad at this point, helping her get ready for every event she had to attend. Glam squad, shopping buddy, bodyguard, and friend were the titles that she happily wore. Both women were in the bathroom of Bucky’s D.C. condo, getting Doll ready for the party. Neither had even seen Steve, Sam, or Bucky since they’d arrived earlier that morning. She had gotten a text from Bucky to confirm the details for the night but not much else. It stung that he had gone back to short and formal messages after doting on her while he was away.

The ring boxes sat heavily on the counter, her stare focused entirely on them as she sat and let Nat do her hair. She hadn’t spoken the entire time and her usual chatter was missed by the woman doing her hair.

“Rethinking your decision?”

“What?” she blinked at Nat through the mirror, “Oh no just confused I guess. He tried to be this macho asshole when he left but then acted like a loving husband while he was gone and now he’s back to being a dick.”

Nat hums in agreement as she gently rubs oil into the ends of the other woman’s hair.

“I thought making him work for my forgiveness would have him waiting for me with a room full of roses but this,” she shakes the phone in her hand, “this is what I get. No ‘how are you?,’ ‘how was the flight?’, nothing. Did I push him too far?”

Taking a deep breath and setting her hands on Doll’s shoulder, Nat meets her gaze in the mirror, “I think he genuinely felt bad for how he tried you and when you didn’t come running back to him, his ego got bruised and now he’s putting up a wall to prevent that from happening again.”

Her shoulders shag in Nat’s gentle grasp, “Oh my god and I got that dress and had that ring engraved and I had this whole plan for the limo. Oh my god what am I going to do?”

“Woah, woah what was the limo plan? You didn’t say anything about that.”

Looking rather sheepishly, she exposes her plan to Nat, “I had Steve arrange for us to have a separate limo to the party so I could… you know…”

Nat raises an eyebrow, “What? What were you going to do?”

“You know, dominate him because he did the same thing to me,” she mumbles weakly, not bothering to look at Nat’s surprised face.

“You were going to dominate him right before a senator’s party in his honor?”

She barely nods in confirmation and Nat squeezes her shoulders in excitement, “If that isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. You have to do that.”

It’s her turn to be surprised, turning her head to actually look at Nat, “What? You think it’s a good idea?”

“Of course I do. He needs someone to challenge him every once in a while. It might be good for his ego to be taken down a few pegs.”

_______________________________________________

Seven o’clock on the dot and the limo pulled up in front of the condo. Before Bucky could open his door to get her, the other door opened and in a blur of white, she slid into the seat next to him.

“Bye Nat,” she wiggled her fingers in goodbye to the smirking redhead who returned her wave.

The partition instantly closed and it was just the two of them, the jewelry box in her lap, and a lot of unanswered questions. As the limp pulled away from the curb, she said nothing while she adjusted the necklaces around her neck. She had yet to even acknowledge Bucky and the anticipation is starting to itch under his skin. He’s staring at, eyes burning holes into her as he takes in her form. The corseted top perfectly hugged her chest, leaving enough hidden that he knew she would be the center of attention. The slit showed off the legs he had been dreaming of for the last week and the white against her skin gave her an angelic glow.

Feeling his burning gaze, she smirked to herself and removed the box from her lap to set them on the seat in the middle, “There’s your ring.”

She could see the gulp he took as he reached for the box and the accompanying look of shock when he saw what the ring was.

“I had my initials engraved on it. I have yours on my necklace so it’s only fair you wear mine too.”

She watches from the corner of her eye as he takes the ring out to inspect it further before sliding it on his ring finger.

“It looks good,” she finally looks over at him and sticks her hand out so he can get a look at her ring, “I think our rings make quite the pair, don’t you think?”

The diamonds sparkle under the passing lights, catching every ray of light that comes in through the darkened windows of the limo. He gently takes her hand, sending sparks through her, and turns it side to side to look at it. A small hum comes from him, voice stuck in the back of his throat.

“You can speak,” her voice is mocking at his silent state as she takes her hand back.

“Doll you look amazing. Better than I imagined,” it’s deep and gruff, filled with desire.

“I know,” it’s her turn to take in his form. She had half expected him to be wearing a uniform however she found him in a midnight blue three-piece suit complete with his usual watch and pearl bracelet.

“You look good too,” her simple compliment made him want to launch himself at her to get more out of her signature red lips, however, she’s faster than him.

She straddles him, causing him to make a surprised noise but it’s muffled by her hand covering his mouth. The look of surprise and lust is one she wants to cherish except she has a limited amount of time to enact her plan. His hands grip her hips tightly as her free hand pops the button of his slacks and slips inside his boxers. The feeling of her soft hand around him is too much and he throws his head back, moans and curses muffled by her hand still. The noises he makes cause a deep ache inside of her and her underwear are growing wetter by the moment. She fully takes him out and bunches her dress up so she can slide her underwear to the side. Sinking down on him both of them let out loud moans at the feeling. Satisfied with her position, she tightens the hand on his mouth and uses the other to put pressure on his neck.

“You really thought I would let you get away with trying to dominate me like that?” she purrs into his ear as she sets a slow and deep pace, dragging her hips at an achingly slow pace.

“You should know better than that. I told you I was in control but yet you had to test me, didn’t you? I should use you to get off and make you wait to cum until the end of the night,” she chuckles darkly as the man beneath her shakes and tries to plead against her palm.

“It’s cute you think you have a say,” she picks up her pace while the sound of bodies slapping against each other fills the air, “keep your hands on my hips and cum when I say.”

She removes her hand from his mouth to steady herself on his shoulder and filthy, loud moans pour out as they move against each other. As they approach the party, they both tense and chant the other’s name chasing their highs together.

“Cum for me Bucky, let go with me,” she demands of him as she pants.

A string of fucks and shits leave his mouth as they cum together. She rests her head on his shoulder as she catches her breath. She checks the time on his watch and slides off of him, both of them hissing at the feeling.

He watches her as she fixes her dress and checks her hair and makeup on her phone. Shooting him a small smirk, she makes a gesture to his pants, “Fix yourself. We’re almost at there.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says under his breath, tucking himself back into his pants and fixing his suit.

Just as they catch their breath, the partition slides down and the driver tells them that they have arrived. Taking his hand into hers, Doll says, “After you Sergeant.”

_______________________________________________

As most politicians’ parties are, this one is especially stuffy and rigid, especially considering that it’s in someone’s home. The wannabe White House is filled with politicians, their less-than-happy wives, and enough security you’d wonder if there’s something more serious and sinister going on. Posing as the most perfect couple, Bucky and Doll had been arm and arm, dazzling everyone with their love-drunk smiles. Neither had made mention of what had happened in the limo however that is the first thing on his agenda when Bucky gets her alone.

Steve and Sam had wandered off some time ago but the line of pushy senators and their judgmental wives was slowly coming to an end. Same as the fundraiser weeks ago, the men were all too focused on Doll’s cleavage and the women left their hands on Bucky’s arm for far too long.

“James tells me you two got married a couple of weeks ago,” one overly dramatic woman had said, feigning joy at the couple.

“Oh yes, we did! It was a small ceremony but so perfect,” Doll responded, her left hand coming to his chest so the older woman could see her admittedly massive rings. At the sight, she’d wrinkled up her nose before whispering a “congratulations” and walking away.

“She acted like I sucked you off in front of her,” Doll says, watching the woman disappear into the crowd.

Chuckling, Bucky follows her eye line to the retreating woman, “We did come in looking less than presentable.”

“I made sure we both looked normal when we came in.”

“Speaking of that, care to explain?”

She can feel his blue eyes on the side of her face so she turns to look at him, “I made it pretty clear, didn’t I? I am not your submissive housewife. I’m in control just as much as you are and you needed a reminder of that.”

“Trying to assert your dominance then.”

“I’d say I was successful,” she says under her breath as Steve and Sam make their way back to the couple.

Bucky smirks, hand finding the middle of her back and smiles at the two approaching men. Steve informs them that the host wants to make a toast and that they need to make their way outside.

“You never told me why they were honoring you three for.”

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see,” he says while guiding her towards the backyard which is really a well-manicured garden.

“Jesus it looks like they live on the set of Bridgerton,” whispering to Bucky, her eyes wide taking in the elaborate hedges and rose bushes around them.

“Isn’t this what Anthony’s house looks like?”

“We lived in his apartment. It wasn’t until Morgan was born that Pepper decided they needed a house outside of the city and ‘away from the violence’ that they bought that house,” she explains, using air quotes around most of the statement.

His thought is interrupted by the host, a short older man in a violently blue suit, who begins to speak.

“Welcome everyone! My wife and I want to say thank you for joining us this evening,” he shouts over the crowd, greedily grabbing his much younger wife, “We asked you here to celebrate three very special gentlemen and what they have done for this country. Steven Rogers, Samuel Wilson, and James Barnes fought bravely for our country in Iraq together only to come back and continue to serve us selflessly. These three men have given most of their lives to protect their fellow American citizens and we can’t thank them enough. In addition to being fearless soldiers, they are also close friends of mine as well as many of you so let’s raise our glasses in honor of them. To Steven, Samuel, and James!” The crowd erupts into a cacophony of shouts, cheers, and hoorahs. Cameras flash, blinding the four as the senator poses with them, no doubt using their veteran and mercenary statuses to garner more votes and support.

In between photos, she leans over to Bucky to clarify their earlier conversation, “All this to show off his fancy toy soldiers.”

“Something like that.”

“Now I see why you’re such a controlling asshole, always under the thumb of smaller and weaker men.”

The hand on her hand shifts to harshly grab her waist, “Or I have a spitfire for a wife.”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #mob au #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes imagine #mob!bucky barnes x reader #sad girl - bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel smut #bucky barnes smut #mob!bucky barnes smut

236 notes · View notes

luveline · 2 years

Note

maybe this is too cliche but for the zombie au, what if reader is running low on meds and steve goes out to find her some, because he’s dumb and reckless and doesn’t want her to panic?

baby I love cliche! thanks so much for your request, this is a great idea. i decided to make it so that the meds r needs are not critical but make a big difference to well-being, hope that's OK! ♡ zombie!au | fem!reader

Steve knows he's making a mistake. He's just too bone-headed to turn around and go home. Home as a funny word, home as nowhere permanent, home as wherever you are. He should turn around and march straight back to your side where you're sleeping in a derelict but otherwise secure condo just outside of the Michigan border. He should not be out alone.

He and you have been walking for weeks. It's miserable and exhausting and Steve knows you're not telling him how tired you are. Of course you're tired, as he is, as he imagines every survivor out there is tired of this life.

He scoffs and steps over another smashed bottle. He's not sure you can call this existence a life, anymore. The irony isn't lost on him.

He trudges through the wreckage of a pharmacy about thirty minutes from the condo. Remarkably close. Steve had searched every rest stop along the road you'd followed to get here for usable maps, half too old and simplistic to make proper sense of, the others destroyed by mould or wet or blood. When he'd finally found one yesterday morning — inside the miracle condo, his first stroke of luck in months — he'd immediately searched for a pharmacy. Upon locating it, his plan was born.

Wait for you to fall asleep. Secure the condo. Find your medication.

To leave you asleep and vulnerable isn't the sort of thing he ever wants to do, but he'd weighed his options heavily. Bring you with him, tired and sick and especially open to attack, or leave you behind.

He can't decide if it was the right thing to do even now. He thinks of a geek scratching you in your sleep and has to take pause.

"Fuck," he mutters, wiping his eyes. They start to sting, sweat and dirt rubbed into his bottom lashes.

There's no time to waste. The quicker he can find your meds the quicker he can get back to you.

The pharmacy is pretty badly ruined. He doesn't know where to start or where to look. There's obvious signs of multiple struggles, most anything worth having has been looted.

Steve picks his way towards the appropriate section. He makes no sound that he can't help, practiced now in silent footfall, in holding his arms at a certain height to stop the chafing of his jacket. He tries very hard to remember the exact name that he'd seen on the bottle in your bag, the brand, the specification.

He's stricken when he can't immediately find it. He's put you both in danger for nothing.

A sound echoes from the front of the room.

Steve is immediately on pins, sliding the baseball bat where it hangs from the strap of his rucksack into his hand. Its weight is both familiar and disconcerting.

He holds his breath. The barest hints of daylight stream into the room, the water of a river broken by a thousand rocks. Steve looks between each ray of light and finds only dust, dust, and more dust, motes like pinprick stars drifting between them.

The zombie appears as a dark silhouette.

Steve takes an impulsive, unfortunate step backwards and his bag scrapes the shelving unit. Pill bottles rattle, a minute sound that may as well scream his location in the quiet.

Fuck, he thinks.

There's no telling what kind of zombie you'll be met with. Some are faster, some are smarter, some can smell you from very far away. Like the people they once were, each geek possesses their own strengths and weaknesses.

In life, this one seems to have been an imbecile. Its gory mess of a face looks toward him, looks straight at Steve and his hammering heart, and then looks the other way. He drifts from the room like a grey, disgusting apparition, and Steve's left alone in the room

Somebody grabs him from behind.

Steve shrieks and forces the entirety of his weight down to the floor. It's the first trick you'd taught him, that to be grabbed by the hair is hardly easily escapable, and that your best chance of surviving is to let yourself fall swiftly and fiercely into the force of it. It goes against everything the body desires to do, to move toward the thing grabbing you rather than away, but it always works.

His scalp tingles with shattering pain. His spine aches from the sudden collapse. Above him, a geek turns his dripping maw down to look at him, bloody saliva pooling at the chin. Freshly dead.

Steve scrambles away gracelessly, a half turn, on hands and then up, he stands and brings the baseball bat to his chest. He should run. If he fights this thing the sound might be enough to draw the second, and a second would probably kill him.

But Steve's just spotted your medication.

"Fucker," he says, and snaps the full force of his strength across the zombie's face. Metal bruises its way through flesh like a baton into pear flesh. A depression gets left behind. Steve from before the apocalypse would've gagged.

Steve now takes a second swing.

You're crying with both hands pressed to your face when the door downstairs opens. You immediately choke on your tears, half terror and half hope.

It could be Steve, you think. It could be him. Maybe he didn't leave after all, maybe he just went for a walk, maybe he just-

Of course he left. He was always going to leave. You can't hold him to his promises, because why would he stay? To always look after you? And you've been so tired, so unwell, you've caught him looking at you with this awful unhappy look like he can tell how much of a burden you're going to become.

If it isn't Steve, it's someone else. If it's someone else, you're in danger.

You press your hand over your mouth and try not to breathe. All your things are in the bedroom. If they come in here they'll see what's left. They'll know someone was here, but maybe you'll get lucky. They'll take your stuff and never think to look under the bed. You'll survive.

And then you'll die of starvation.

But if you can drag your things under the bed with you they won't know you're here at all.

You crawl across the floor and breathe hard through your nose, a sluggish tear falling over the slope of your cheek as you go. It falls into the rug, lost forever, and you climb over it. You loop your hand around the strap of your backpack and tug it backward with you, suppressing a sob as footsteps sound up the stairs.

Hidden again, you wait. You hold your breath until your throat burns.

The door creaks open.

"Y/N?" Steve asks. He talks as he always does, quiet and steady. "Are you in here?"

You loose the breath you'd held like a barb. The sound is pathetic, like a crying little kid.

"Y/N?"

You push your bag away from you and crawl out from under the bed, wiping desperately at your tearstained cheeks.

"I thought you were somebody else," you explain quickly, standing on wobbly legs.

You check him over and then avert your gaze, not wanting to look him in the eye, only he's covered in blood. You do a double take.

"What happened?" you both demand, staring at one another in shock.

You press your lips together and wait for Steve to explain first.

He drops the backpack off of his shoulder and unzips it. "I went to the pharmacy. Had to fight a geek for it, but I have something for you."

"What..."

Steve holds out a bottle of your medication.

His hands are white with cold and ice to the touch as you take it. Your ear is ringing.

"Why would you go by yourself?" you ask, numb.

"I don't know if you've noticed, babe, but you're not really up for expedition right now."

You laugh wetly and fight against another oncoming wave with your dirtied shit sleeves. "I'm not that bad."

"No, you are. And that's fine. But hopefully these'll help."

You stare at him, his dirty hair and unshaven face, the blood dried over his jacket and the similar splatters under his jaw. It looks as though he'd tried to wipe away whatever was on his face, iron streaks dissapearing into the shorter hairs of his sideburns.

You're not sure if you're too emotional to see the truth or if you're delusional with sickness or both, but you're almost a hundred percent sure that Steve initiates the hug, and not you.

His arms go over your shoulders. It's a slow, sweet thing, hesitant in his hand placement and the pressing of his cheek to the top of his head. You're not nearly so tentative, desperate for reassurance as you wrap your own arms around his back. The cold clings to him. You rub your open hand uselessly against it, trying to pour every bit of warmth you have into the gesture. Your other hand clutches the pill bottle so hard your knuckles ache.

"Sorry for scaring you," he says, "I would've used the signal, but I thought you'd still be asleep."

You're embarrassed. You want him to forget all about it as fast as possible.

Regrettably, with you and Steve, it seems as though every interaction is its own chapter of an increasingly long book. There's nothing else out there. The desolation and loneliness of your lives has made it so that each interaction is felt in excruciating detail.

Though sometimes that's nice.

His hug seems to go on forever. His arm tightens around your shoulder and his hand encircles your upper arm while the other bunches up the fabric of your hoodie.

"Are you okay?" you ask.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're like a Jackson Pollock of gore, Steve."

"What's a Jackson Pollock?"

You rest your cheek against his shoulder and stare at his neck, all his little hairs and pores and skin. "He was a painter. He did, um... splatters. He was quite famous."

To your surprise, Steve still doesn't let you go. He hugs you and hugs you and it's not like he's never hugged you before, he has, usually in similar times of high emotions. But still. He's not exactly tactile. Not with you.

"You shouldn't have- You shouldn't have risked-" You clear your throat. It's a struggle to say it aloud without insinuating a second meaning. "Thank you," you say instead. "I don't know how I'lll..." make it up to you. Make it out of this without you.

"Would you look at the back of my head?" he asks abruptly.

"What?"

"I fell. Think I might've cut myself. Or gave myself a killer concussion, at least."

"Oh no," you murmur, genuinely sympathetic.

Steve and you set down on the bed. He lets you card through his hair, careful, delicate, and search for his injury, a patch of irritated skin and a small lump. You fawn over him and rub a little antiseptic into the wound. Only afterwards when you're laying down to sleep beside him with the door barricaded do you realise what he's done — Steve doesn't care about small bumps or scrapes, he'd let you look after him because he'd known it would make you feel better.

When you're sure he's sleeping, you bracelet his wrist with your fingers. His pulse capers under your touch.

more steve zombie au

#steve zombie!au #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #zombie!au

738 notes · View notes

thatsmzbitchtoyou · 3 days

Text

My Queen Chapter 2

Steve Rogers is the newly inherited Duke of Brooklyn, struggling to fix the mistakes of his parents while enduring an overbearing, matchmaking mother. He has no intention of anything romantic in his future, but will a forced love connection with the Queen change his mind?

Warnings: smut, slight domestic violence, minor character death

Friday came and Steve was fuming. His mother was constantly hovering nearby, fussing with his collar as he left his room and chattering at him about royal protocol as he walked towards the front door. “You’ve grown so much since you last went to an event, you’re so handsome! I’m sure she’ll love you–”

“Ma,” Steve said warningly.

Sarah put her hands up in surrender. “Okay okay. Well good luck my dear,” she said as he walked to the car pulling up for him. The driver quickly opened the door and he settled into the seat. He thanked the driver and nodded to his mother as the door shut then sighed heavily when they took off towards the palace. He had not been to any royal events in years, due to his embarrassment. His mother was right, he had grown physically over the years, so he was sure Queen Y/N wouldn’t even recognize him from the last time she saw him. He probably wouldn’t recognize her either. They had barely become adults the last he saw her, and it wasn’t like they were ever properly friends, just acquaintances.

When they pulled up to the palace the door was opened for him again and he was led inside and through some hallways until they reached a large sunroom with a table prepared with two places settings. Steve marveled at the almost fully-windowed room. There were sun catchers placed in the awnings above him, little iridescent mobiles tinkling against each other from the breeze of an opened window and casting rainbow prisms along the adjacent wall and floor. There were scores of plants lining the long window sill with a section in one corner covered by a long cushion and a blanket folded up next to it with a book sat atop. He was left to wait for her and in the silence he strode up to the window seat and picked up the book. Steve didn’t recognize the title, “Beauty” by Robin McKinley, but read the synopsis and thought it interesting. A fantasy reader, he mused. He set the book down and walked along the window inspecting the plants.

“Rogers,” a voice gruffed behind him.

Steve turned and then smiled. “Wilson.”

Sam laughed and approached him, giving him a long hug. “It’s been a while.”

“It has, how are you?” Steve asked as he clapped Sam’s shoulder.

“Well, thank you. I’m sorry to hear about your father. I would have come to the funeral–”

“Please, I know you were out of the country with Her Majesty. It’s fine,” Steve waved away his concern. “We got her card. All is well.”

“Hm. So…your mother…” Sam raised an eyebrow at him.

Steve sighed again, hanging his head. “I know, don’t get me started.”

Sam laughed again. “It’s alright, Her Majesty is well aware of how Sarah is. You have nothing to be worried about.” Steve gave him a small appreciative smile. “Speaking of, she’ll be here in just a moment. I just wanted to come say hello before I’m dismissed.”

“And now you’re free to go,” Y/N walked through the door just then, her lady’s maids following behind and distracting her so her eyes were turned away looking at the fabric they were showing her.

“Ah, excuse me,” Sam gave Steve a head bow then turned to Y/N and bowed to her.

“Oh, shoo, all of you!” Y/N snapped, pushing away the fabric and waving Sam away, who quickly pushed the lady’s maids out the door and closed it behind him. “Ugh, I’m sorry, Your Grace, I–” Y/N finally looked at him and paused, her eyes slightly widening.

“Your Majesty,” Steve walked forward, bowing to her. Y/N automatically gave him a small curtsy and gave him her hand which he took and kissed her knuckles lightly before releasing it and standing straight. “Thank you for your card. We were most appreciative of your condolences.”

“Of course,” Y/N said, giving him a polite smile. She tried not to ogle him. Steve had grown over a foot, gained a lot of muscle and had become incredibly handsome since she’d last seen him. He was no longer the scrawny, sickly boy she’d met years before. He sported a slightly longer haircut and a clean cut full beard, making him look rugged but put together. “Shall we?” she gestured to the table.

“Yes,” Steve said and held out a chair for her. She thanked him as she sat and he walked around the small table to the other chair facing her. Once he was sat Y/N picked up a small bell and rang it, resulting in a few maids and footmen bringing out plates of food and drinks. As they placed it all down in front of them she thanked each of them with a smile before dismissing them.

“So, long time no see,” Y/N ventured starting the conversation as she put her napkin in her lap.

Steve huffed a laugh as he did the same. “Yeah, I uh…” Y/N watched him as she piled her plate with food from the dishes in front of her. He snorted as he looked away. “I know I should apologize for not being social, but I won’t.”

Y/N smiled widely. “You have nothing to apologize for. Being antisocial is not a crime.”

“Tell that to my mother,” Steve mumbled. Y/N laughed at his deadpan tone. Steve seemed surprised at her laughter and a wider smile lit up his face.

“Yes, she is…tenacious,” Y/N said, hiding her mirthful smile behind her teacup while she took a sip, giving him a playful glance.

Steve smirked. “I feel like I need to apologize for her, though. I do not condone such behavior,” the crease between his eyebrows returned. Y/N wanted to run her finger down that crease to help him relax. “My parents sent you letters asking for increases. That was not acceptable and you were right to deny them.”

Y/N felt for him. His embarrassment was palpable, and she could tell he didn’t particularly want to be at this lunch date. She sighed, setting her cutlery down as she leaned back in her chair. Steve was surprised again at her change in demeanor.

“May I speak frankly with you, Steve?” Y/N cocked an eyebrow at him. Steve nodded warily. “As your mother may have told you, I’m looking for a husband.” Steve’s eyes narrowed at her. “But I’m not. My advisors are. I’m turning 33 this year and they have decided that means I’m becoming an old spinster. They’re threatening a Parliamentary takeover if I do not secure a partner to help me create an heir soon. And since our Parliament is full of imbeciles, I’m afraid of what that could mean for our country.” She looked away from him and out the window, watching the hummingbirds at the feeder outside. “I do not need a husband to rule. This is the 21st century, for fuck’s sake.”

Steve couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up his throat at her cursing. Y/N laughed with him, shaking her head. “I can tell you are embarrassed by your parents’ behaviors, believe me I know what that’s like, and now you have quite a load on your shoulders to bear when it comes to securing you and your mother’s futures. A union with me would be highly advantageous to you.” She leaned up against the table with her arms, looking at him conspiratorially. “The suitors my advisors have been finding for me have been as idiotic as they are.” Steve snorted at her candor. “So when Sam said you were coming for lunch, I knew it was the work of your mother, but I thought it would be interesting to see how it goes, since I remembered you as a kind but quiet boy. Now you’ve grown into a full-fledged man, and strikingly handsome if I do say so myself,” she smirked at him. Steve blushed at her compliment. “I don’t like playing games and I don’t like wasting my time. If you do not wish to pursue anything romantic of any kind with me, please say so now, so I may know how to proceed with this lunch.”

Steve gawked at her. Y/N had grown into quite the impressive woman, not just because she was the Queen, but also because of her tenacity and passion in governing the country. She had made leaps and bounds beyond what her predecessors had been able to accomplish within just 15 years of her reign and made a reputation for herself as a blunt but fair ruler. She was very attractive, he’d always thought so, but even more so now as she aged and grew into herself and her own personality. He found her incredibly alluring and loved that she was straight forward with him.

“To be honest, no, I wasn’t planning to pursue anything romantic,” Steve decided to be honest.

Y/N nodded but didn’t look hurt or embarrassed. “I appreciate your honesty.”

“Not because of anything to do with you personally! Just because I have not wanted the same relationship I’ve seen my parents or others in nobility with arranged or advantageous marriages have,” he paused, trying to find the right words. She nodded. “But I do find you…quite charming.”

Y/N giggled at him. “Charming? I don’t think I’ve ever been called charming before.”

“Really?” Steve said, genuinely surprised.

“Perhaps some polite euphemisms that refer to my blunt nature…sometimes intimidating,” she trailed off.

“That’s what makes you charming,” Steve then copied her stance and leaned forward on the table. “Alluring.”

“Alluring?” Y/N’s eyebrows raised high. “My goodness Steve, are you trying to make me blush?”

“Maybe,” Steve smirked at her. He felt himself getting more comfortable with flirting. “It does bring such a pretty color to your face.”

Y/N’s eyes widened as she did blush that time. She couldn’t hold his gaze and quickly looked down at her food. “Thank you,” she muttered, giving him a quick glance.

“Are you not used to receiving compliments, Your Majesty?” Steve teased her.

“Y/N, please. And I receive plenty of compliments, but they're usually from people trying to get something from me,” Y/N answered honestly. “They're also not usually coming from such a pretty face.”

Steve blushed deeply, having to look away from her this time and fight the smile on his face. “Pretty, am I?” he laughed.

“Ridiculously,” Y/N laughed with him. They stared at each other for another moment.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” Steve said hopefully.

Y/N gave him a lopsided smile. “Yes.”

The rest of lunch was them eating and getting to know each other better. By the time they had finished their plates and the conversation began to wind down, the sun had moved in the sky, casting shadows into the sunroom as the afternoon wore on. A knock came at the door, interrupting Y/N in a story about Sam, who walked through the door.

“Speak of the devil,” Steve laughed.

Sam gave them both a disapproving look then turned to Y/N. “Your Majesty, your meeting with the Prime Minister?”

“Ugh,” Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically, wiping her hands and her mouth on her napkin then standing. Steve quickly stood with her. “I’m sorry to cut this short, Steve–”

“Short? You’ve been talking for three hours!” Sam said incredulously. Y/N’s eyebrows raised at him and he shut his mouth and looked down. Steve chuckled.

“As I was saying, thank you for coming to lunch, Steve,” Y/N turned back to him and lifted her hand. He quickly took it and kissed her knuckles again. Instead of dropping her hand he decided to be bold and pulled her hand, making her step towards him. He then dipped his head and kissed her cheek, making her inhale sharply, her fingers grasping his hand tightly.

“It was my pleasure, Y/N,” Steve said quietly next to her ear. She looked up at him with wide eyes, her mouth slightly open. “I’ll call you about that date.”

“I look forward to it,” Y/N said politely, but there was a hunger in her eyes.

Steve smiled and bowed to her before walking toward the door, Sam staring at him wide-eyed as he followed him out. Once they were out of earshot Sam pushed him, making him trip forward a bit. “What the hell?” Steve scoffed at him.

“What was that?” Sam chastised him. “You can’t kiss her face! Or call her by her first name!”

“Well I just did,” Steve smiled. “We have a date.”

“A date?” Sam whisper-yelled at him. “How? She hasn’t wanted to date anyone…ever!”

“Guess I’m a pretty good flirt,” Steve shrugged. Sam led him back to the front doors, the car already waiting for him. “Hey, what’s her favorite flower?”

Sam gave him an unimpressed look. “Sunflowers. Why?”

“Just checking,” Steve said, clapping Sam’s shoulder before getting in the car. His mother would never let him live this down.

#marvel #smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #duke!steve rogers x queen!reader #queen!reader #duke!steve rogers #royal au #modern royalty au #series fanfic #chapter 2

21 notes · View notes