#Steve couldn't dent it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

There were a total of 171.5 billion posts on Tumblr in 2019.

#Steve couldn't dent it

marvel-lous-guy · 10 months

Text

Bucky: Peter is so small

Clint: come on, give the kid a break

Sam: yeah, he just hasn't had his growth spurt yet

Peter: Hey! I've had enough, I won't stand for this anymore! *slams fists on the table* ...ow *2 huge fist dents in the table*

Sam: WHAT THE FUCK!?

Clint: That was VIBRANIUM!

Steve: How did you do that!?

Sam: Steve! Can you do that!?

Bucky: No, we can't

Sam: Steve. Try it.

Steve: sure!

Bucky: STEVE! NO!

Steve: *slams fists on table* *crunch* OW OW OW OW OW! I think I broke my hand!

Bucky: YOU IDIOT STEVE!

515 notes · View notes

oneofstarkskids · 2 months

Text

a girl

peter parker x female!reader

setting: civil war, meeting for the first time

genre: a little angsty at the beginning but it's mostly fluff

you're lost in a trance as you use the blowtorch to reshape the dented metal on one of tony's suits. you insisted that he let you work in the lab because it had a way of taking your mind off of everything else.

and right now, you could really use a distraction. steve was god knows where and the whole team just seemed to be getting closer and closer to falling apart. your family was falling apart.

there was nothing you could do about it and it killed you. of course your dad's way of handling things was just to make demands and empty promises, so you had a hard time seeing a way back from all of this.

natasha tried to tell you that you were wrong. she consoled you and reminded you that tony and steve aren't as different as they think. she held you and told you that everything would be okay.

but how could you believe her when all the evidence showed otherwise?

peter wandered around aimlessly with his head up in the clouds, looking for tony. he popped his head into the doorway of the lab that you were in.

when he saw a person covered head to toe, wearing a mechanics apron, a face shield and gloves that were way too large for their hands, he automatically assumed it was tony. "mr. stark! hey, i was meaning to ask you-"

he was interrupted by you pulling up the face shield. you were exhausted and your hair was stuck to your forehead by the sheen of sweat covering your face. and yet you still managed to take peter's breath away.

"wow," he swallowed. "you're a-uh...a-" he choked on his words.

"a girl," you finished his sentence for him with a smirk.

he let out an awkward laugh that was partially a sigh, "sorry."

"what for?" you asked.

peter just stared at you with big doe eyes.

"i thought you were..." and just as he began to say his name, tony walked in from behind him looking for something specific.

he didn't even spare peter a glance as he spoke, "you better not be flirting with my daughter, parker."

peter's jaw almost dropped. daughter!? it made sense the more he watched the two of you, but it surely wasn't what he was expecting.

"no, sir. i would never. well, it's not that i wouldn't," he changed the subject before he could get himself in anymore trouble. "i was just going to ask where i should come in during the fight. like, should i have a cool catch phrase. maybe something like," he lowered his voice, "a spider bites to kill."

you rolled your eyes and tony looked peter up and down, thoroughly unamused.

"let's skip the catch phrases and instead you can go help rhodey with surveillance," tony clapped him on the back.

"okay. so we'll just say it's a work in progress?" peter asked hopefully.

tony shook his head, "don't push it."

peter slowly backed away, "i'm not hearing 'no'. is that a 'maybe'?"

you couldn't help but laugh at the interaction. the new kid was kind of adorable.

your dad quickly spun around to give you a disapproving look.

#marvel #mcu #avengers #fanfiction #marvel fluff #peter parker #fluff #peter 1 #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #stark!daughter #stark!reader #peter parker x stark!reader

290 notes · View notes

imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

Note

buck x reader where bucky is sad cuz he can't date nat and when frnd!reader asks him out he says yes even tho hes still in love/has a crush on nat, but when r asks he lies n says tht he's not n that hes just "protectivE" of her. later he gets drunk or maybe hes jus rly pissed off after something happens n when r tries to help him he gets angry and tells her that she's clingy n annoying n that he only dated her cuz he couldn't be w nat n that he almost says her name durin sex smtimes. you can escalate from there!1 love ur works sm btw, hope u hav a good dayy!!

okay, I'm hoping this is good! If not, I do apologise.

summary - bucky agrees to date you because natasha is already taken, how long can he pretend before he snaps?

warning - angst, swearing, unrequited love, near abuse but is stopped.

the gif I use isn't mine, dividers by @firefly-graphics and @newlips

You smiled as Natasha encouraged you to ask out your long-time crush Bucky Barnes. You always thought he was into her, but then he started paying more attention to you. You decided to head over to Bucky when Sam came to collect Nat, his arms wrapped around her waist as he kissed softly on her temple. You smiled at the affection and love the two have for each other, hoping you’ll have that.

“Hi, Bucky!” You grin, waving slightly as you stop in front of him. You could’ve sworn your heart skipped a beat when he looked up at you.

“Oh, hi, Y/n” He gives you a tight smile, watching as he continues to look back at Sam and Nat. You feel your nerves get the best of you as you fiddle with your fingers.

“I wanted to ask… Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?”

Bucky shrugs. “Sure.” You’re too happy to see how uninterested he is, wishing him goodbye before skipping away to your room.

It’s been a few months since you and Bucky started dating. At first, you were ecstatic. You thought he was really into you until you noticed how he acted around Nat. You walked into the room and watched him watch her and Sam for a while.

Walking closer, you sit next to him. Feeling your heart crack a bit when he scoots away from you. “Buck…” He hums, not even taking his eyes off her. “Do you still have feelings for Nat?”

Bucky’s head whips around, looking at you like you grew three heads. “What? No! What kind of question is that?”

You look down as you play with the end of your shirt. “It’s just… You’re always talking about her or looking at her, and I just thought….”

“Jesus Christ, Y/n! I’m just protective of her. Stop being so insecure.” And with that, he stands and walks off. Leaving you to feel like shit, not noticing Nat and Sam looking at you with pity from across the room.

It had been a few days since Bucky snapped at you, and he’s become distant. You're currently sitting on your bed, feeling tired. You flip through a book you’ve been meaning to read but can never find the time. You’re interrupted by a knock at the door causing you to get up and head over.

When you open it, you’re met with Steve holding a very drunk Bucky. “I didn’t know where else to take him… Please be careful. He’s acting a bit off today.” Steve looks at you sheepishly. You smile softly, taking your drunken boyfriend off his hands, thanking him and closing the door.

“C’mon, Bucky, let’s get you to bed.” A whimper leaves you as Bucky pushes you off him, turning around and glaring at you.

“Jesus fuck! Why the fuck are you always so fucking clingy? Do you know how fucking annoying it is to always have you near me or talking to me?!” You blink, too shocked to move as he explodes. “Fucking hell! I didn’t even want to fucking be with you! Why would I want someone like you when someone like Natasha exists?!” Bucky stalks closer to you, and you quickly take steps back until you are pushed against the wall. “I only fucking said yes to you because Sam fucking took her from me!”

“B–but”

“But what?! Did you think that I could love you, YOU?!” Bucky’s metal fist flies to the wall beside your head, causing a dent. “You’ve never even questioned me, always requesting to fuck you from behind! Is it because deep down you knew that I secretly wished it was her?! That her name nearly slips from my mouth when I’m balls deep inside you!”

You take a shaky breath, feeling tears roll down your face, but you’re too numb to move. Bucky's fist lifts, and you flinch, thinking he will hit you. You squeeze your eyes shut, only opening them when you hear someone yelling.

Your eyes widen when you see Steve tackling Bucky, holding him down as he screams to let him go and how much he hates you. Steve turns to you and feels his heartbreak at the terrified look in your eyes. “I got him. Go to my room. I’ll be there soon.”

You take off, heading straight to Steve’s room and throwing yourself into his bed. You bury your face into his pillows, crying into it before falling asleep.

Steve enters his room, looking at you sadly before he crawls in behind you. His heart skips as your body curls into him. He wraps his arm around you and holds you close as he falls asleep.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

part 2

2K notes · View notes

powderblueblood · 5 months

Note

🎵 + Steve or Eddie please :)

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)

▶ IN MY BED - AMY WINEHOUSE

yours is a familiar face, but that don't make your place safe or you're fucking both steve and eddie on a casual basis and they're kinda clingy and jealous like peanut and butter

an: OH SHE'S SMUTTY. is this on either of the playlists i've made for steve or eddie. technically no. did i just hear it on shuffle and get inspired to write about having a hawkins slut era. technically yes. but the best part is you asked for steve or eddie and you got both, anon!!

MINORS FUCK OFF - warnings: heavy smut from the get-go; unprotected p-in-v, allusions to cunnilingus and fellatio, public sex, semi-mean!reader, leaving steve with blue balls, forceful!eddie, some mild degradation (use of the word slut, etc), hope u enjoy and hope we can coerce them into a threesome some day. it would save reader so much time

word count: 3.6k

You can't keep playing with boys like that, y'know. Somebody's going to get hurt.

As long as that somebody isn't you, you're pretty far past the point of giving a fuck.

You had emerged from the painful chrysalis of Hawkins adolescence with a great rack and a huge fucking chip on your shoulder. So much time wasted, lingering in the limbo of awkwardness and timidity, not even with the credit of being humiliated by your peers. You were glossed over, completely unnoticed by the opposite sex (and even the same sex that you'd daringly fantasize about in the dark of night).

You spent so much time sitting with your hands stuck shyly between your legs that it was only right that King Steve Harrington is now pleadingly prying them apart.

"What time did you say you had to leave, again?" he says, voice strained against the shell of your ear. Steve's fingers are making dents in the softness of your inner thighs as he spreads your legs further and futher away from one another. You're sitting pretty on his kitchen table, a place you'd chosen on purpose because from there, you could flash him the bright blue of your panties under your short, short work skirt.

Work skirt was a loose term, but you found you made better tips at the Hideout when you dressed more scantily than you'd like. Something something clientele, something something dinner and a show.

Something your co-worker had said.

All you knew was whenever you showed up at Steve's dressed for a bar shift, it drove him crazy. It drew him right to you, moth to flame, fly to spider's web, turning him all desperate and whining and eager to please. Like a dog.

"Mmm," you hum, glancing at your watch, "'bout fifteen."

You loved driving Steve crazy. Thrived on it– and part of it was a private revenge fantasy. All those years gone by using him as shower nozzle masturbation material, and now you were the one he couldn't get enough of.

His nose teases at your lips as he continues to massage into your thighs. And you admit, he's good with his hands– deliberate pressure, making the wetness at your core spread.

"Call off. Say you're sick," and his right hand is pulling at the gusset of your panties. Your hips keen toward him, an automatic response, and he strokes a knuckle down the glistening slit of your lips.

"Sick how," you ask, not really desiring an answer, talking just to talk as you web your fingers into his hair. You've noticed that the only time he's not precious about it is when you're about to fuck. Then, you can muss up his hairdo all you want.

"I couuuld," he murmurs, "make you scream my name so loud--"

The middle and ring fingers on Steve's right hand sinks inside you, down to the knuckle. You swallow a little moan, but it strangles itself out anyway.

"--that they think you have laryngitis."

You skitter out a snort, despite the fact that he's stroking you real nice with his fingers. It's so silly; it's exactly the kind of thing you'd come to expect from Steve. You used to overhear Nancy Wheeler in the hallways being all, you're an idiot, Steve Harrington. Tone dripping in affection. And you got it now, you did.

"Come on," he says, tongue ghosting at your neck as the pad of a finger circles that drop of nerves between your legs, "Take the day." He swallows. "Stay with me."

But you weren't his fuckin' girlfriend.

To be completely straight, you'd been skirting around this thing for a while– the moony-eyed way Steve would look at you after he'd cum, the trapping you in the bedsheets with peppered kisses, the recreational sports games he'd keep inviting you to and you'd keep bailing on. You couldn't even remember if he played baseball or basketball. And you didn't... care.

"I just don't know why you work in that dump," Steve says, attempting to stick a little edge on that moment of softness. But his fingers had stopped moving inside you, which quite simply would not do.

"Because," you say, you with the hard edge, you with the steeliness he can't seem to get enough of, "some of us," your hand reaches down to clamp onto his, "don't have a choice what dumps we work in," and you begin to rut onto his hand, grinding into his palm. In order to get this show on the road, you add in one pretty little groan. "... your highness."

Your slickness makes an obscene squelch and Steve's jaw cocks open, his blown-out pupils meeting yours. "Fuckin'... shit. I'd pay to keep you here if you promised to do that all day."

And you know he'd love that, to make you a kept woman. But Hawkins rich isn't kept woman rich, and you've got bills to pay.

"That can be arranged," you whisper, biting at his finely sculpted jaw, "but if you wanna put your cock in me today, you better make it fast. Those beers ain’t gonna sling themselves."

“Yeah—yeah.” Steve fumbles, aiding you in pulling off your panties. You wrap them around his wrist for safekeeping, because this skirt is way too tiny to go commando in. Flash your ass at your co-worker and you’d never live it down.

Steve unbuckles and yanks his khakis down his thighs, a remarkably unsexy clothing choice on anyone else but him. You like him the most like this— pliable, willing to do whatever you say.

You hitch your knees up, bracing the heels of your tennis shoes against the edge of the table. Steve moves to hitch your skirt up, set his hands at ten and two on your hips, but his fingers travel upward to your shirt. It’s this threadbare Janis Joplin thing, another strategic choice. It’s tight enough that you needn’t bother with a bra and also tight enough that any passing wind chill makes your nipples stand to attention. It’s hot in here, so the way they strain against the material is all Steve’s doing.

“Take this off?” It’s a request. Sometimes you wish it’d be a demand. Anyway. You pull it over your head and the way he kneads at your tits makes up for it completely. His tongue, hot and strong and ready, laves over a nipple and you shiver.

“Steve, babe,” you whine, “tick tock.”

You reach down and grab his cock, sprung free from his boxers like a jailbreak, and guide it inside you.

His dick is long and lithe like the rest of him, with this perfectly bulbous tip that caresses that pretty spot, that one that makes you open-mouth moan into his shoulder, right on entrance.

Steve rocks his hips into yours, one of his big hands cupping at your jaw. “So nice, right?” he says, licking into your mouth.

“So fucking nice.” But now is not the time for one of Steve Harrington’s classic slow jams, a drawn-out fuckfest that would ordinarily leave you rosy and blissed out. Now, you need him—

“Harder,” you breathe, “fuck me harder. Faster, baby, please. I need— I have to get you off before I leave.”

Steve is a giver, but talk like that makes him feral. He'll rarely ever take control with you, rather wait for your permission to let him take control. Which is nice, you guess, consent and all that but it kind of snuffs the fire out for you sometimes. The process takes a little longer than it needs to.

But god, when he gets into a rhythm, there's no stopping him. He guides you (when he could have shoved you) back onto your elbows as his length drills in and out of you. He bears over you with that slyly muscular frame, face buried in your breasts, keeping up a relentless pace that almost, almost has your legs seizing, almost–

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

“Fuck!” and it’s too sharp a curse to be one of pleasure. Steve is lost in you entirely, so much so that you have to tug at the hairs at the nape of his neck to get his focused attention. “Stevie, I gotta go.”

“No–fuck, come on, I’m so close.” You’ve fucked Steve Harrington enough times to know that he’s nowhere near close, that he’s got a position or two left in him before knockout. Your square stare communicates this perfectly; but he doesn’t stop, his pace just slows. Achingly slows, the way he loves to do when you’re right at the apex of an orgasm and he wants to hear the extended version of your desperate pleading. “You can be late.”

“No, I can’t,” you grumble, palming around for your discarded shirt. “I’m opening. Drunks are--mmm--lining up around the block to see me.” And my goddamn co-opener is always late. “Down, boy.”

“Fii-ii-iine,” he groans, voice cracking as his heartbeat slows in his chest. You can just about feel it thumping from here. He eases himself out of you, but doesn’t make any swift movements away from you. Pink lips, so pink that you’d once hornily remarked they were almost the same color as your pussy, pout as he stares up at you from beneath his bushy brows. God, he looks pathetic.

He’s so fucking hot.

You unwind your bright blue underwear from his wrist slowly. “You mad at me?”

“Little bit,” he murmurs, “Leaving someone with blue balls is like, a serious health hazard. You know that, don’t you?”

“Forgot you were pre-med, Steve.” Oh, that man is not pre-anything other than pre-cumming.

“If you get back here and I don’t answer the door because I’m dead from unfulfilled horniness, you’ve only got yourself to blame.”

“That is, assuming I’ll be back?” This little exercise in reminding Steve of the fluidity of your relationship earns you the most heartbreaking little scoff. You can’t help but hold his hand to your now-reclothed chest and peck a kiss to his lips. “Kidding. I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

“I’ll be thinking about finishing you off for my whole shift, if that helps,” you hum against his mouth, which is already hungrily looking for more of you.

“How ‘bout I pick you up after?”

“Mmm, I don’t know.” Look, as much as you like Steve, and you do, you like him lots, you really need a night to recharge your social battery after the shift you’re about to have.

Especially when your co-worker comes sneaking in the door a whole 15 minutes late.

“Hey!” he whispers, making a whole pantomime of shiftily stepping inside, eyes darting around underneath his curly bangs, “Bev around?”

“You know as well as I do that she’s still on that cruise, Eddie.”

“And thank fuck for that, am I right?!” A ringed hand comes down hard on the bartop, making your glass of off-brand cola rattle. Something inside you clenches as Eddie Munson beams down at you. “God bless the Indiana Sweepstakes.”

You chuckle out a little mm-hmm! and return to the crossword book someone had abandoned here months ago. When it’s slow, you and Eddie try and fail to figure out the clues, which has lead to interspersed shittalking, which has led to flirting. Which has led to… other things. On the clock and off.

The natural course of which a river flows.

Speaking of wet things, you cross one leg over the other. You hadn’t, as it happened, stopped thinking about Steve’s absence between your thighs since you’d gunned your shitty car out of his building’s driveway. Though, the closer you got to The Hideout, the less that absence became about Steve and more became about… well, anyone.

What? You’re a red-blooded American woman with a healthy sex drive.

And you’ve seen how Eddie Munson handles the wheel of a car. Forceful. Relentless. Wild.

“Figured out where I know you from, by the way,” he says, snatching the bar towel from your shoulder and throwing it over his own.

“Hey! Those things are in short supply, asshole, get your own.”

“Finders keepers,” Eddie smirks, “And– Spanish class, sophomore year.”

Cringing falsely, you toss your hands up in surrender. “Ay papi. You got me.”

“You told me you were from Oregon, you little liar.”

“And you believed me, right?” you shrug. “Not surprising that you didn’t clock me right away. I was kind of unremarkable.”

Eddie squidges past you in the narrow space behind the bar, leaning around you for something– for what, you don’t really register, because he lingers there a little longer than he needs to. You can feel his breath on your neck. “Certainly not unremarkable now, huh?” His fingers ghost at your waist. “Nice shirt.”

See, the thing you’ve found with Eddie is he doesn’t waste any time.

He’s a lifer at The Hideout, worked here all through high school, right up to now. After your first couple of shifts, you locked yourselves in the bar for what he called a peer review. It only took a couple of shots of whiskey between you before he was on his knees, eating you out from your seat on the barstool. You ground yourself onto the slope of his nose, the tip making imperfect but workable contact with your clit as his tongue dove past your lips. Eddie had gripped onto you like a man possessed, determined to make you choke out his name through your orgasm.

But Eddie had never fucked you. He’d eaten you like a last meal, sure. He’d fingered you against the rough brick exterior of the bar, yep. You’d even given him road head the couple of times he’d given you a ride home after work, dawn breaking over Hawkins and Eddie struggling to drive in a straight line toward your apartment block. But he’d never fucked you.

“Thanks,” you respond, tilting your head upwards to look at him. “Guy I was fucking before I came in sure seemed to think so.”

Eddie’s mouth curls up into this devilish little grin. “You tryin’ to make me jealous, telling me you’re gettin’ dicked down before work?”

“To his credit, dicked down is,” you sigh, “a little bit of an understatement.”

“Couldn’t finish the job?”

“Not his fault. My alarm went off.”

“And you’re so punctual.”

“Always.”

Eddie’s hand tightens around its place on your waist, dimpling into the soft flesh. “So you’re left all… wanting, is the conclusion I’m coming to.”

“Yeah…” and your teeth sink into your bottom lip. From behind you, he angles his hips against your ass, a suggestion of a push upward. The material of your skirt catches, gathers and shifts against him so you can just about feel the swell of him on your almost bare ass.

“Oh, you little slut,” he says, and fuck, if you don’t love the way he says it. The hardness on the letter ‘t’. “Coming in here all dick-hungry. You’re asking me for a favor, then?”

“Least you could do,” you say lowly, “for leaving me hanging in here all the time.”

“Right,” Eddie nods, his hand travelling toward the hem of your skirt, “The opening rush is crazy around here.”

Ain’t a sinner in the bar but the two of you.

Eddie’s fingers crawl onto your thigh, reaching higher and higher, and you nearly let out a pitiful little moan in anticipation. All you want, all you want is to plant your hands on the bar and have him drive his cock into you, ringed fingers bruising the soft flesh of your hips. Chained jeans rattling.

So you move his hand to the waistband of your panties, not that it’s far off. A suggestion of pull these fucking things down.

Eddie’s eyes flare wide. Anybody could come in. Are you sure about this?

But you’re so fucking wet that a job like this isn’t going to take long. He might not cum, but you sure will. You sure fucking will, if he keeps looking at you like that. Like he wants to wrap a ringed hand around your throat and fuck you so good, you’ll forget even the regulars’ orders.

“Eddie,” you say, purposely wiggling against him as your panties fall to the floor, “C’mon. You’re telling me you’ll let me jerk you off in the keg room but you haven’t thought about how wet it makes me? How much I want you to just–!”

“Shut up,” he says, “Fuckin’ shut up. Bend over.”

Your pulse quickens, mouth popping open.

“I said,” Eddie starts, hands going to his silver belt, “bend over, slut.”

And boy, do you ever comply– Jesus. You’ve never seen him like this before, half-mad and fully hard. Usually, Eddie’s the kind of guy who’ll joke his way through a hookup. There’ll be flashes here and there, sure. He’s got no problem telling you where to put it and when. But this…

You bend at the waist, leaning against the bar for support and scoot your legs apart. A great idea on your part, you toss a look over your shoulder– Eddie’s pumping the length of himself, his free hand roaming over the curve of your ass. He notices you looking and gives it a solid smack!, fat jiggling on the recoil. The sight of that makes his eyes keen back in his head a little, a smile dancing at his lips.

“You better be ready to dance,” he says, fingers teasing at your slit before he enters you in one slow, slow, stretching movement. “We got customers coming in, any minute now.”

Eddie breathes out a little oh god! in response to feeling just how tight you are around him. He feels exactly as you expected him to– you knew he was big from taking him in your mouth but the girth of him makes you wince a little. Once he’s moving against your honeyed walls, you’re in fucking heaven. He’s thick and solid and this close to throbbing; he’d been waiting for this as long as you had.

“Don’t worry,” he strains reassuringly, palm coming in harsh contact with your ass cheek again, “You’re cummin’ first, sweetheart.”

The brazen moan, the sound all jittery from Eddie’s rutting into your pussy, seemed to echo in the empty bar.

God, the acoustics really were great in here.

The sound of his balls slapping against your gorgeous, plush ass joins the symphony and the sting of his force hitting your soft spot makes your eyes water. You want to look at him again– you have to. Your eyes go over your shoulder and Eddie’s there, fucking beautiful under the bar light’s glow and transfixed on the way your body’s moving against him. He doesn’t need any encouraging. His hand reaches for your throat, holding your chin in place so you can watch him fuck you, so he can watch your pretty face contort as you crest your orgasm.

Your cunt tightens around him and the sounds he starts making are nothing short of obscene– guttural, growling, snarling. “Fucking getting what you want now, aren’t you, baby girl? All you needed–uhnh–was my fucking–fat cock to cum all over–”

And it’s hitting you in waves you’d gladly drown in, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. You reach down to flick at your swollen clit, half-regretting you’re not drawing out the contractions of your pussy a little bit longer. “Good fucking girl, give me everything you got–”

“Cum inside me, Eddie, fucking please–” you cry, right over the crest of your orgasm.

“Huh?” He barely registers what you’ve said, talking you through the arresting drown of your orgasm. But then he gets it, and his eyes do that siren flare thing that they do. “Really? Yeah?”

“Yeah, fucking– yeah!” you yell, a little louder than you mean to, “Fill me, please, I want you drippin’ out of me all night–”

That’s enough for him to jerk and shudder, his noises becoming tauter, his thrusts becoming shorter, bottoming out inside you in a warm gush.

Fuck. Fuck.

“Fuck,” you blink, moving Eddie’s hand from your throat as he eases himself out of you.

“Yeah,” he breathes, pulling the bar towel from his shoulder to wipe himself off. “Fu-uuck.”

You turn back to face him and snatch the towel, patting between your own legs.

“Gross,” he chides.

“Finders keepers, asshole,” you giggle, breathless. And satisfied. That giggle bubbling out of you is contagious, because now Eddie’s giggling too. Peals and peals of silly laughter, fizzing out of you both like phosphate. That was fun. Eddie’s fun.

“Might wanna put those back on,” he points to the ground once he’s caught his breath. Oh right. Your panties.

“Yeah, I–”

But then the bar door swings open, your name called out through the entrance. Wait, is that–

“--fuckin’ Steve Harrington?” Eddie mutters, leaning over the bar to get a better look.

“Babe,” Steve says, catching sight of you with a little slip of red leather in his hand. “You forgot your…”

He pauses, Maybe he catches that you and Eddie are in a state of post-coital undoneness. I mean, the pink cheeks, the ruffled hair, Eddie’s half-secured belt may be a tip off, but…

“...wallet.”

But where a guilty feeling ought to have settled in, there’s no boats in your damn harbor. Steve Harrington, while lovely, was not your fuckin’ boyfriend. You pluck the wallet out of his hand as his eyes narrow, looking toward Eddie. Eddie, for his part, is putting the puzzle pieces together.

So it was Steve’s place you were running off to after shifts, Steve’s new car you were jumping out of when you arrived sometimes.

And he looks a little… jealous.

“Thanks, Stevie,” you say, blowing him a little kiss with the wallet. “You wanna drink while you’re here?”

“Nah, I– I gotta… I’m jettin’. So. Later? Later.” Steve Harrington, still struggling to be the epitome of cool. And failing miserably.

You give him a little wave and watch him, fondly, as he leaves. God bless Banana Republic and everything those should-be-fuck-ugly khakis have done for you. In your peripheral vision, Eddie appears next to you. Leaning on the bar. Glaring.

“What’s the matter, Munson?” you simper. “Cat got your dick?”

#powder room talk #Anonymous

199 notes · View notes

libraryofgage · 6 months

Text

PJO Steddie Part Three

Part One | Part Two

I hope y'all are ready for some backstory in this bitch hfdjsk

Anyway, we learn some more godly parents, but one remains a mystery for now.

Also, if you like my writing, maybe consider commissioning me! I have, like, student loans hitting harder than I'd like, so I've opened commissions on ko-fi. You can read more about prices and such in this post.

Anyway, hope you have fun reading! And, as always, if you see any typos no you didn't ;)

---

Getting to Athens, Tennessee, had required a mix of bus rides, a single divine taxi ride, and a pair of knock-off winged shoes that Eddie should probably put out of their misery before they get him killed. Getting back to camp, thankfully, only requires the van Steve and the kids use to get around.

Said van, at first glance, looks like a hunk of junk. It seems to have stepped right out of the 80s, its paint is faded and scratched with dents in more than a few spots, and the wheels look about two tiny potholes from popping. As they get closer, Steve pulls a key ring from his pocket, and Eddie notices that it's a physical key and not one of the wireless fobs.

When they get inside, though, the whole van is transformed. The seats are made of the softest leather Eddie has ever felt, there are seven in the back for all the kids to be comfortable without arguing about space, and the sheer number of cup holders is enough to bring Eddie near tears. "This is fucking metal," Eddie says, practically melting into the passenger seat as the kids buckle up in the back and Steve starts the van.

"I got it after we outgrew my BMW," Steve says, shrugging as he checks on the kids and Eddie before pulling out of the parking lot.

"Steve says it's a surprise gift from our father," El pipes up from the back.

"Yeah," Dustin says, his voice excited as he leans forward and pokes his head between Steve and Eddie, "Cuz he doesn't know he bought it!"

Steve snorts and pushes down the bill of Dustin's cap as he heads towards the highway.

"So, is Zeus your dad, too?" Eddie asks, twisting around to look at El.

"No. Steve and I share a human father," El explains.

Even without looking, Steve can feel Eddie's confusion. "I try not to think about how I came into being," he says. "Just know our father seems to be a bit of a slut for Greek mythological figures."

"Wait," Eddie says, waving his hand, "does that mean Zeus was, like, a woman? Is Zeus your mother?"

"No clue. Like I said, I prefer not to think about it," Steve says again, shooting Eddie a look.

And Eddie drops it despite his growing questions. When a gorgeous boy tells you to stop asking about the impossibility of his birth, you shut up and listen.

A while later, as Steve is about to drive over the Tennessee state line and the kids doze off in the back, Eddie glances at Steve and shifts in his seat. His leg starts to bounce, his fingers drumming against his knee, as he tries to figure out which question to ask first. Eventually, he ends up blurting out, "So how did you manage to not die?"

Steve blinks and snorts, stifling the rest of his laughter so he doesn't wake the kids. He glances at Eddie, an amused smile tugging at his lips. "Well, how much of the story do you want to hear?" he asks.

"All of it." Eddie wants to know everything about Steve. How has he kept all these kids alive and for how long? When did they start traveling the country like this? When did he learn about his heritage? What does he like? What does he hate? Does he believe in fated love and love at first sight?

Okay, that last one can probably wait a little longer. Like, two more days, at least.

Steve hums softly, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel as though he's trying to decide where to start. "I didn't know about Zeus until I was eleven," he finally says. "I only learned then because my dad couldn't figure out any other explanation for how lightning struck on clear days whenever I was angry at other kids."

"Didn't you have to deal with monsters?" Eddie asks.

"Yes. And no." Steve frowns, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know how in all those stories Zeus will change his form to get with all those women? Like, he'll become whatever he needs to get what he wants."

"I'm familiar, yeah."

"It's a little like that, but I don't change my form. I guess I change my vibe? I can make monsters think I'm the son of a lesser deity. It got even easier when El came along because monsters don't target her."

"Why not?" Eddie asks, perking up some. If El has somehow figured out how to make herself invisible to monsters, maybe other campers can learn, too.

Steve grimaces, and Eddie immediately pushes back the urge to push for more information when he says, "It's...complicated. Let's not get into it right now."

"Okay," Eddie says, flashing Steve what he hopes is a reassuring smile when Steve glances at him. "When did you meet El, then?"

"Five years ago now, when I was fifteen. El's mother showed up, dropped her off with me, threatened me with death if she ever got hurt, and then left. El was, like, just eleven at the time, and our dad was no help. He just shrugged it off and gave me a bigger allowance to care for her."

"Was he not around?"

"No. He...travels. We haven't spoken to him in four years. He hasn't tried speaking to us, either. Despite me literally being Zeus's kid, he can't exactly show me off or anything. And El...well, he can't take her to any functions, either."

Eddie nods, pushing down the urge to ask why. But Steve said he doesn't want to talk about it, so Eddie instead asks, "And what about the rest?"

Steve hums, merging into another lane. "Well, El and I stayed in place for about a year. Then we saw some weird snake monster dragging Will around like a road snack. We saved him, but I almost died. It was my first fight, you know? But I lived, obviously, and El and I agreed to take Will back to his hometown. School was one break anyway, so we just did a road trip in my BMW. We ran into Dustin and Mike along the way. Dustin had made these, like, mechanical wings, and Mike was goading him on to give them a try. We got to the cliff right as Dustin jumped off."

"Wait," Eddie says, holding his hand up to pause Steve's story. "Are you telling me the kid just...decided to recreate Icarus?" he asks.

"Yeah, pretty much. He thought he could actually succeed since he's so much smarter," Steve explains, getting an amused grin as he thinks of it. "Anyway, didn't work, obviously. Dustin fell but managed to catch himself on the cliffside, Mike was yelling his head off but not actually doing anything, and El just took off running toward them. Which meant I had to run toward them, too. So, Will is trying to calm Mike down, El is practically dangling herself over the cliff, and Dustin is lamenting the loss of his wings."

"How'd you rescue him?"

"I just climbed down myself," Steve says, shrugging like it's no big deal. "I had him get on my back and climbed up, chewed both kids out for doing something so dangerous, and then asked if they needed a ride home, which is how I found out they'd run away and were just wandering."

"Half-bloods running away is pretty common," Eddie says, sinking down in his seat as he watches the trees rush by in the darkness. "A lot of us don't feel understood by our human families, or we don't want to endanger them when monsters track us down."

Steve nods, gripping the steering wheel a little harder. "Yeah, that's what Dustin and Mike said, too. I couldn't just leave them alone, so I invited them to come with us. Mike and Will get along really well, and Dustin is a little shit, and it's good for El to have friends her own age, so it all worked out."

"That still leaves out three whole kiddos," Eddie says.

"Well, Lucas and Erica we met in Will's hometown. Their dad and Will's mom had found each other and, like, bonded over having demigod kids. When we brought Will back, we met Lucas and Erica at this, like, barbeque thing to celebrate him being safe. And their parents ended up suggesting that we continue the road trip so the kids could be around others like them before school started again."

"Usually," Eddie says, fiddling with one of his rings, "parents go two ways. They either get really obsessed with keeping their kids safe to the point they're never let out of the house, or they completely ignore and reject the godly influence. But it sounds like their parents weren't doing either of those."

"Having each other helped. There was someone they could turn to when they felt doubt or just wanted to complain. When you're isolated, though, you just do whatever you think will keep you going, even if it might hurt the people you care about."

"You put that...really well."

"I've had a lotta time to think about it," Steve admits, frowning slightly before sighing and continuing with the story. "Anyway, we met Max and her brother a few towns over. It's...not a great story, actually. Her brother was a dick, like, massively horrible. He had a lot of problems and took way too much after his godly father in terms of anger. We ended up fighting because of how he treated Max and it didn't end great, but Max joined us and that's when I realized we needed a new car because the kids were piled on top of each other in the back. We got this conversion van in the next town with my dad's credit card, and we've been traveling ever since."

It's a lot to take in, and Eddie can tell there's a lot that Steve is leaving unsaid, but he doesn't call him out for it. "Okay, so, the whole not dying thing?" he asks.

Steve snorts. "Well, when you're chaperoning a gaggle of demigods, you get good at fighting off monsters. We've also had some...help along the way from a few goddesses, though."

Eddie perks up, looking at Steve like he's an alien. "You got help from goddesses? Which ones?"

"Sometimes, I'll pray to Hestia and she'll direct us to a motel with vacancies that'll be safe for the night. Or, uh, Demeter. I'll pray to her and fruit will grow on some trees or something. Hecate treated us to lunch once, said she found us amusing, and thanked me for the entertainment. Nike, Lucas, Max, and I have all played basketball together. I mean, she smoked us, no question, but she's part of the reason this van can run a few more miles without any gas. Hera helped once, sorta."

"Hera helped you? Hera? The goddess notoriously known for hating children of Zeus? That Hera?"

"Yeah, kinda surprised me, too. But, I mean, she's also the goddess of motherhood or something, right? And all she really ever wants is Zeus to be faithful. I don't think it's too much to ask, and I can't imagine the bullshit she goes through because of him. Anyway, we were getting attacked by this hydra, and I was really struggling to protect the kids. I mean, those heads were practically tearing me apart. And then she just, like, walks up and flicks her hand and the thing is gone. She told me to do better and then, like, disappeared. Not the weirdest thing that's happened, but it's up there."

And Eddie is starting to understand how they're not dead. It's just Steve. Like the prophecy was just Steve. Somehow, he's managed to get himself into the good graces of several goddesses and get their help. It's not entirely unheard of to get a god's favor, but having so many just be genuinely interested in you is unthinkable.

Eddie gets it, though. Steve fascinates him. He's like a magnet that Eddie doesn't want to fight. "So, uh, the kids," Eddie says, trying to keep his mind from lingering on Steve and just how incredible he is, "Who are their parents?"

"Lucas and Erica are kids of Aphrodite."

"Oh, does she like you, too?" Eddie asks.

Steve frowns, looking like he's just been reminded of something sour and gross. "No, we're not on good terms," he says, his voice a little frosty, and Eddie's mouth is suddenly dry.

"Good to know," he manages, his voice a little strained.

"Anyway, Dustin is a child of Athena. Max's mom is Nemesis. Will's dad is Morpheus, and Mike's dad is Plutus. Which has worked out well for us, actually. He keeps finding money on the street whenever we really need it."

"What about El?"

"El's mother...is complicated. We don't really talk about her," Steve says, his words soft and pleading, and Eddie immediately zips his mouth shut, winking conspiratorially at Steve when he glances over.

Then he unzips his mouth and says, "You know, you're pretty metal, Stevie."

Steve laughs, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth and glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure the kids are still sleeping. When he sees that they are, he relaxes a little. "I've never been called metal before," he says, glancing at Eddie.

"Well, that's a shame. I'll be sure to tell you whenever you're being particularly metal, big boy."

"Big boy?" Steve asks, amusement clear in his voice, and Eddie suddenly worries that Steve doesn't actually like the nickname but it trying to play it off.

Unfortunately, the problem is that Eddie has never been one to filter himself. So when Steve calls him out for the nickname and he panics, Eddie's knee-jerk reaction is to say, "Oh, would you prefer something else? How about pretty boy? Sweetheart? Gorgeous? Handsome?"

Even though it's dark out, Eddie can still see the blush that spreads across Steve's cheeks, the way his fingers tighten on the wheel until his knuckles turn white. He's getting flustered, and Eddie feels himself getting flustered, too, at the idea that it's because of him. He suddenly wants to see what else he can say or do to make that blush spread, and he wants to know just how far it spreads beneath the collar of Steve's shirt.

"Just, uh, whatever you prefer, I guess," Steve mumbles, keeping his eyes resolutely focused on the road and missing Eddie's surprised expression. He does, however, sneak a glance just in time to see the surprise morph into an unbridled grin.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," Eddie says, leaning back in his seat and looking forward to spending the rest of this road trip discovering what makes his Stevie tick.

----

Tag List! There is still room, I think lol

@mugloversonly, @mentallyundone, @hairdryerducks-blog, @carriethesaint, @lunabyrd, @weekend-dreamer7, @farfaras, @littlelady03, @my-tears-are-becoming-a-sea20, @mogami13, @a-little-unsteddie, @itsall-taken, @queenie-ofthe-void, @tinyplanet95, @littlebluejane, @hangoversandhandgrenades, @rabbitwhoeatsstars, @bisexualdisastersworld, @steddieinthesun,

@paintgonewrong, @sadcanadianwinter, @deehellcat, @blanketlicker, @angrydonutdestiny, @booksareportal, @fallingchemicaldiscos

#steddie #steddie fic #semi divine steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #percy jackson au #the party #my writing

280 notes · View notes

enam3l · 1 year

Note

Hi Mona!

I love your rockstar!eddie series!

I know request for him are closed for now, but when you decide to open up request again, I wanted to leave this here so that I won't forget.

Rockstar!Eddie coming back home after touring and he's so touch starved and deprived of you. So, when he comes home he ravishes you. He catches himself asking you if he's too rough and you're thinking he's NOT rough ENOUGH because you're just as deprived of him.

I hope have a winter/December and a great new year!

thank you angel! and you know what? because you've all enjoyed our rockstar eddie christmas request week, i'll give you guys one last fic. don't worry if i didn't answer yours. i will do them all i either A. just didn't get round to it or B. want to do it at a certain point cos i need to cover some other plots first

three fucking weeks (rockstar eddie x reader) 3.6k / mega smut from start to finish / fluff

this is for everyone who got involved in the xmas request week because of that, i've hit 700 followers. so here is my biggest smut fic yet before rockstar eddie goes on hiatus for a couple of weeks. this one ends on a cliffhanger! but you might want to refer to here to work it out... maybe then you'll also know what happens in the next fic

you can see all rockstar eddie x reader stories and lore at #enam3ls rockstar eddie or the masterlist! and check out my new series love, lola

February 1993.

The last words you'd heard from Eddie were muffled from the other side of a bad telephone line. Although the sound warped by the the airport's tannoy and bustling passengers, you heard his lust filled words clear as day.

'The second I get home, I'm going to ruin that pretty little pussy.'

Three weeks since you'd seen Eddie. Three long arduous weeks since you had felt his touch. Corroded Coffin stowing away in a Joshua Tree music studio, hoping the barren surroundings would inspire new music. The writing process intermittently broken up by a series of gigs at intimate venues around California. Back in New York, the greatest city in the world had become the dullest in Eddie's absence. With damn Steve having swept your best friend off her feet you hadn't even anyone else to occupy your free time. Between your working hours, you'd managed to rearrange the bedroom, paint the living room and spend your months wages in retail therapy. But finally your boy was coming home and you couldn't lie, you were fucking horny.

Left to your own devices for the best part of a month, no toy compared to Eddie. Your touch incomparable to the sparks he could ignite on your skin with just a featherlight stroke. Vibrator redundant now your body knew the sensation of Eddie's mouth humming against your clit. Dildo a mere cheap imitation of the way Eddie overwhelmingly filled your holes perfectly. By now the flight had landed, it was just a waiting game until he came through that door and you could show him how much you missed him.

The front door slams open, handle cracking into the wall, sure to leave a dent but Eddie didn't care - he was eager.

'Sweetheart, I'm homeee!' he sings.

Bags carelessly discarded on the floor, all he can think about is being back in your arms.

'Baby? I'm back!!' he shouts again.

Eddie strips his jacket and kicks off his boots, giving you a chance to reply but to no avail.

'Y/N? What the fuck, where are you...'

When entering the apartment, he'd been too excited to even realise the lights were off, the entire place seeming desolate. Socked feed pad along the hardwood floors as he moves further into your shared home. Kitchen? Empty. Bathroom? Empty. Study? Empty. It's only as he catches himself from slipping that Eddie notices a trail of petals leading from the front door into the bedroom, where the door sits ajar. Too wrapped up in wanting to see you, he'd failed to notice. Now he realises a soft glow seeping through the cracks. Grinning in anticipation as he pushes the door open.

'Mother of god,' Eddie gasps as if the wind had been knocked out of his lungs.

The lights are dimmed low, only aided by candlelight which together illuminates your reclining figure on the bed. His eyes scan your body, drinking in the sight he'd been longing for. Never in his wildest dreams did he think that sight could improve. Your cute toes wiggle in black stockings that travel up your legs and cut off at the meat of your thigh. Even with your legs crossed, Eddie can see a tiny black material that barely covers your pussy. Then your torso is adorned in a black bustier, hooks travelling up to where a deep v cut finished below your sternum; breasts spilling out of the ruffled cups. His cock twitches at the thought of ripping the hooks open. Your neck and collarbones are exposed, soft, delicate skin waiting to be marked by his lips. And then there's your face. Eyes sparkling at him, full of lust and love. Mouth struggling to keep a grin at bay. The face he went to sleep thinking about every night, woke up from dreams about and spent the day with it in mind as he tried to write music. Your arm reaches out, hand beckoning Eddie forward.

'Hi Eds. I missed you... too much.'

Your head nods down to his crotch now. Too lost in the vision before him, Eddie hadn't noticed the way his cock had hardened to the point of straining against his jeans.

'I think you should probably take your clothes off and come and say hello,' you smirk.

Instantly, he's scrambling. Head barely able to form a coherent thought aside from how he needs to touch you right now. T-shirt flings to one side of the room and socks to another.

'Sweetheart... I - fuck. You look like a dream. I'm scared I'm still on that fucking flight or delirious in the stupid desert,' Eddie pants as he scrambles with the buckle of his jeans. The second his aching cock springs free you let out an inadvertent moan. As soon as his body is entirely freed of fabric constraints, he's hurling himself onto the bed and crawling up towards you.

Eddie's lips kiss every inch of you as he moves upwards. His lips need to reacclimatise to the body he knows better than his own. Kisses pressed from the tips of your toes, your kneecaps, covering your thick thighs and then lingering on your poorly concealed cunt. He hisses as he leans in towards your mound, able to smell your arousal. Lips kiss the satin fabric of your thong and the skin it fails to cover. You're unable to stop your hips from involuntarily bucking as soon as he's near the place that's longed for him. Eddie's hands find yours and your fingers intwine, both of you gripping tightly at the other. Desperate to never let the other slip away for such a prolonged period again. Kisses litter up your sternum then across your pushed up cleavage. Once he reaches the plains of your collar and neck, Eddie indulges himself. Lips sucking marks onto the skin that's looking far too bare due to his absence. Teeth nipping gently causing those giggles that make his heart and cock swell. And finally, your faces are level, his hovering above yours.

The pair of you just stare for a moment. Absorbing the person you'd both been lost without; reacquainting with every freckle, blemish or fleck of colour in each eye. Both of your hands have traveled up to cradle the other's face. Your fingers twirl the curls that frame Eddie's face, pushing them away so you can fully appreciate your pretty boy.

'My pretty boy, I love you.'

Your noses rub against each other. Even this close, vision slightly obscured, you can see the blush that creeps up on his cheeks at the nickname.

'I love you too, sweetheart. Gone crazy without you.'

Humming in agreement, you tug at his hair.

'Feral,' you whine.

Eddie chuckles in a warm, sexy way that travels to your core. His eyes look down at your body beneath him, admiring again the outfit you'd chosen. Retracting a hand from your face, travelling it down your side before he slides it between your thighs. The string of the thong wet with your arousal as he pulls it from between your lips, then pings it back. The brief contact making you whine.

'Yep, I think you are feral, my love. Think I oughta do something 'bout that.'

'Plea-'

Your plea is cut off as Eddie's lips crush into yours. The sweet kisses that had covered your body are gone, replaced by desperate wet ones. It's seconds before the kisses are open mouths, tongues flicking against each other. Hips pressing towards the other, frantically seeking friction. Both of you whine into each others mouth as you begin to hump. You push your hips up, legs spread achingly apart to trap Eddie between. In return, he presses hard against you. Thick length bearing down on your clit, occasionally sliding between your wet pussy. You're both groaning and grinding, transformed once more into hormonal teenagers and whilst it's good, it's not enough.

'Gotta stop,' Eddie pants, 'this isn't - isn't how I wanna cum with you.'

You're unable to reply because your teeth are sinked into his shoulder to stifle the embarrassing moans scratching to come out. Never in your life have you been this pent up. Eddie tears his crotch away from yours, crawling back down your body. His hands, rough from weeks of constant guitar practice, firmly grip your thighs, keeping them apart. Doing so causes the thong to ping between the lips of your cunt which are now spread. His tongue flickers over his lips at your glistening wetness.

'Baby she's desperate... going to eat your cute little pussy now, 'kay? Missed her taste.'

You've been stifled by the built up desire, unable to produce anything but pathetic whinnies. But now you grab his hair harshly, yanking his head back up before his tongue can touch you. Wide eyed at your hard tug, Eddie looks up.

'No!' You snap. 'Spin the fuck around and get on top of me. Need to taste you too.'

The sternness in your voice has the ability to scare him in the way every authority figure has previously failed. Careful not to squash you, Eddie turns around, swinging a leg over so he's straddling you and then slowly reverses until his crotch hovers near your face. Usually you'd be on top so now he's far too aware of his weight. But the firm grip on his ass that tugs him down makes him to cave. Instantly Eddie's thick cock is bottoming out in your throat. Tears well in your eyes but you groan, pleased that his taste and smell now dominate your senses.

The luring natural musk of his skin and the slight salted taste of precum that had beaded on his tip.

The moment he sinks into your mouth, his teeth sink into the dough of your thigh - the pleasure sudden and overwhelming for him.

'Oh fuck-' Eddie sobs into your skin as you adjust and start to bob your head up and down his length.

Resting on his knees allows him to thrust in time with your movements, fucking his cock into your warm mouth. Eddie dives his face into your cunt, hand lifting away the thong that prevents him from burying his tongue deep into your folds. Humming at the taste he's been dreaming of for weeks. The vibrations cause you to gargle against his dick. After a few swipes of his tongue, lapping up the pool of arousal that had formed, he finds your clit. Tongue flickering over the enlarged bud, already feeling better than your fingers and vibrator had. Instantly, you spread your legs wider, granting him more access. Now he latches on, suckling at your clit desperately. The pair of you lie there, contorted to suck feverishly at the most sensitive parts of each other's body. It's overwhelmingly intimate and carnal. Something neither of you would've done for any previous lover.

Now, Eddie lets his hand travel towards your hole that he knows is begging to be filled. Two large fingers plunge inside your cunt and instantly he feels your walls contract against him, eager to maintain the fullness. Your throat contracts in response as you moan at his fingers penetrating you. Eddie continues his assault on your clit as his fingers fuck into you. The pair of you forlorn in pleasure, you whimpering against his cock as he moans against your clit. Mimicking his movements and desperate to reward him, you bring your hand up to his exposed ass. You grab and knead the fat of his asscheek before letting a finger rub gentle circles round the rim. Immediately, Eddie breaks contact with your clit.

'Oh shit, please, baby, please,' he begs.

Now you're warmed up, he slips in a third finger. As if to encourage you to go further with your own movements against his hole. You want to coo at his begging but your mouth is too full of his perfect cock. Applying firmer pressure as you circle his hole, you feel him ready. Finally you finger slips into his asshole, it's hot and desperate for attention. Walls pulsating against your finger.

The pair of you mirror the other now. Fingers fucking into the other at the same pace, growing more brutal by the minute. Your mouths sucking and licking at the other's sensitive spot. Knowing both of you will only last a few minutes at this overwhelming pace, Eddie breaks away.

'Y/N we gotta stop. I'm so close and I need to fuck you. Sweetheart, I gotta be inside you'.

Eddie pulls himself out of your mouth, allowing you to instantly gasp for the extra air his thickness had been blocking. He moves back so your eyes can meet again, large warm hand cupping your cheek.

'You okay?'

You nod as you catch your breath.

'Yeah, Eds. Please, please fuck me. I need to cum,' you beg. Unbothered at the slight patheticness to your tone.

Eddie removes your thong entirely now.

'We both know that was doing nothing,' he laughs.

Without guidance, you're putting your legs over his shoulders; an unsubtle hint that you need him now and you need him deep. He takes his length and lines himself up with your entrance. Then, three weeks of longing are broken as he thrusts into you. Too overwhelmed with wanting to even slowly enter you. Eddie is instantly bottoming out, balls pressed to your asshole as you wail at finally being filled.

'Oh jesus - yes Eddie!'

The volume and anguish in your moan takes even him back. He's never heard you be this desperate and it triggers something primal in him. Instantly he's thrusting into you fast and hard. Each unrelenting push jiggling your breasts further out the corset.

'God I missed - ugh - this tight little pussy,' he grunts.

You need even more. Your fingers yank at the hooks of the top until it parts and your tits finally spill out. Eddie moans at the sight. Instinctively, he's latching onto your hard nipples, folding your body in half to do so. Now he's sucking at your breast and fucking you deeper and it's still not enough. You're greedy in a way you've never been before. Making their way around his back, one hand finds his head, pushing him close to your breasts as your nails scratch his scalp. The other hand seeks his ass, squeezing it until you retract your touch and then crack your palm hard against his soft cheek.

Instantly Eddie bolts up from your chest, staring at your eyes, wild. The warm chocolate of his iris, eclipsed by blown out pupils.

'Did you just fucking spank me, sweetheart?' he chokes out.

Now he's upright you're no longer able to reach so you seek a new method of showing him how you want it. Your hand now clutches at his throat, Adam's apple bobbing against the stretch of skin between your spread thumb and forefinger.

'Yes and I'll do it again.'

You sound like a brat and you have no remorse. Three weeks of pent up frustration is now rearing its head. Eddie puts his hand over yours and squeezes it, encouraging you to tighten the grip at his throat. He's continuing to fuck you but his pace has slowed, intrigued by this turn.

'Sweetheart,' he coos, 'what has gotten into you? I like it.'

With one hand flexing across his throat, your free one takes his and pulls it to your mound. Encouragingly placing it over your clit. Grinning, Eddie's fingers rub firm circles over it as he languidly thrusts into your cunt. Although at a slow pace, his cock plunges deep into you. Hitting the sweetest, most filling spot and then dragging torturously along it. The movements have your hard exterior crumbling and whining under him.

'You- you were gone... I was... was so fucking horny. Couldn't c-cum,' you're gasping now. Eddie's motions along with the way the chocolate of his eyes appears molten at your confessions.

'Not with you. Needed you... Eddie. Tried everything.'

He bends down to give you a deep kiss. Years together and yet he remains in shock that you need him as much as he needs you. He hopes this kiss will wipe away your cute little pout.

'Couldn't even play with your toys?' he murmurs, intoxicated by how fucked out you look beneath him. You shake your head, hands wrapped around his neck, thumbs stroking his skin.

'Okay, baby. I'll make you cum, yeah?'

'Please Eds,' you beg.

The smile that appears from hearing your pleas is heartaching. Then he starts concentrating on thrusting into you again. Speeding up his movements, languid pace abandoned. But it's not enough, the earlier momentum lost.

'No,' your hands tighten on his throat, 'like before. Harder.'

'It wasn't too hard?'

The nails that dig into his Adam's apple tell him the answer before you do.

'No. I want you to make me fucking cry.'

'Fuck, fuck baby, yeah okay.'

Instantly Eddie is folding you again, arms braced either side of your head as he towers over. Your knees press up near your shoulders. His pace quickens, fucking you senseless. The drawn out process of this evening has left you dripping. Sounds of wetness filling the room as he plunges back into you each time.

'Hear that fucking sound, best music I ever heard,' he groans.

Your hand seeks his ass again and you repeat your earlier actions. Spanking him again. The crack against his skin ringing even louder than the squelch of your cunt.

'Oh fuck yeah,' Eddie cries, 'again.'

The spanking repeats, each time you do it, his pace somehow quickens. Your clit is throbbing now, aching for touch again. You hand wedges between your bodies and you whimper as you relieve the ache.

'Wait,' Eddie's shifting over you, 'from behind, wanna fuck you from behind. Only I get to play with your clit.'

His voice is strained, you know he's at the edge of cumming. Eddie gets off the bed, standing and tugging your ass towards him once you're on your knees. The moment he slams back into you, your back caves into a deep arch and you both moan.

'Yes, that's it!' he cries.

Eddie wraps his arm under you, finding your clit and continuing his assault. Fingers pressing harder and covering a greater expanse than you ever could. The fast circles in time with his cock fucking into you. From behind he goes deeper, pressing against that one spot with growing frequency.

'More,' you demand.

He leans forward until his mouth latches onto your shoulder. Like this, he's prevented from pulling out far and instead it feels as if he's humping you. It's dirty and animalistic and it's what you needed.

'Ed, I'm close.'

His teeth sink into you now causing you to cry out, giving you exactly what you asked for.

'Look at you... fuckin mess sweetheart... all cos you couldn't get my cock.'

The tightness in your abdomen increases and Eddie feels how your cunt clenches round him like a warning.

'Shit,' you cry 'please please come inside me.'

Eddie instantly pulls you up so your back is flush against his chest. Fingers still toying your clit that has begun to ache from stimulation. His free arm wraps around you too, hand shaking around your throat to gently grip. Plush lips seek out your neck, pressing encouraging kisses as you near your climax.

'Don't you worry baby...' he grunts against your neck.

'Daddy is going to fill you up good.'

The nickname pushes you over

'Eddie,' you cry as you come. Three weeks have of build up, only worsened by tonight's teasing, come shattering down in a climax.

'Holy fuck y/n,' Eddie chokes.

He's realised before you and it takes you a moment to clock that you've squirted. Spraying over Eddie's cock and the sheets. He grunts like a feral beast at the sensation. An additional wet warmth showering over him alongside the tight clench of your spasming pussy. He takes a few more drawn out thrusts, sloppy from your cum.

'Three... weeks... worth!'

Eddie moans your name as his comes after his final word. You feel the heat squirt up inside you and he suddenly jerks, shooting out another load deep inside.

'Oh jesus...' Eddie whimpers as he humps at you again, 'there's more.'

And again another burst paints your insides. Instantly you flop forward, exhausted. A subconscious part of you whispers to make sure his spend stays buried in your cunt.

Eddie watches as you wriggle back up to the pillows, collapsing with a sigh. Knees bent, keeping your hips angled up. He crawls onto the bed and opens your legs to take in the view. Pussy puffy and blushing and completely full of his cum.

'Tryna keep me in there?' He chuckles.

'Yes,' you blush.

Bringing his forehead to rest against your knee he groans.

'Fuck sweetheart, don't tell me that. My balls ache from how much I just came but you'll get me hard again.'

The desperate look in his eyes makes you chuckle. You tug him on top of you, his head falling to your chest. Stroking his sweat matted curls, you cradle his face. Littering kisses all over him as he hums in content.

'I missed you so much Eddie. It physically hurt.'

'I know, Y/N,' he looks up at you smirking, 'could tell. But I missed you too. Missed home.'

Eddie snuggles into your chest. Exhausted by the sex and blissed out in your arms. This is where he belongs, always. He's certain he'll fall asleep here for the night. The question he was going to ask on his arrival will surely have to wait til tomorrow. But it's okay, he's been waiting since October - so what harm is another day?

my taglist angels: @whoahoney@lukewearingbeanies @esme-viridian @elysian-chaos @munsonology@mseddiemunson @kreepja

#enam3ls rockstar eddie #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson × fem reader #eddie munson × reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #munson headcanons #eddie munson × yn #eddie munson X y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x afab reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

752 notes · View notes

ashwhowrites · 1 year

Note

Hey!! I’ve been binging on your oneshots and I am OBSESSED!!! They hurt SO GOOD!!! Can I please get more angsty oneshots?? I saw this one that I really loved where Eddie comes back from the upside down and everyone knows but nobody told his girlfriend who was depressed since he died and when she finds out she’s pissed and refuses to speak to Eddie or any one of her friends. Can you write something like that? If you can’t I understand <3 ilyyy

Hey! I know we talked about this but I want to put a disclaimer for anyone else reading:

I am aware this type of plot has been written so I am going to try to twist it in my own way to make sure the original writer's work has not been copied :)

I love you too babes ❤️ thanks for the support

Y/N and Eddie fell in love back in freshman year. Best friends all throughout middle school. Connected at the hip. He lived for her and she lived for him.

What was she supposed to do now when he wasn't breathing anymore?

She doesn't think she could ever forget it. The feeling of her heart physically stops, and hasn't been beating since Dustin told her Eddie was dead. She didn't believe him at first, refusing to accept her fiance was dead in the upside down. They were planning a wedding, they were going to be a family, and they were planning their future together.

She screamed at Dustin, pleading for him to tell her it was all a joke. A horrible sick joke. Steve caught her when she collapsed to the floor. She felt like she was losing grip on her life.

He was gone. She was alone.

She doesn't know how long he's been gone, still slowly accepting it.

She's learning how to sleep alone.

She's learning to only make dinner for one.

She's learning to stop buying his favorite brownies.

Some things she refused to unlearn.

She still keeps his rings by the sink.

She still keeps his shampoo, and admits she uses it time to time.

She refuses to make their bed. His body imprint is still dented in the sheets. Before she sleeps she traces the outline.

Steve offered to clean her sheets and the room and she practically screamed her head off.

The group quickly understood she needed the reminder of Eddie in every room. It was the only way the house felt like her home.

And she refused to take off the ring.

Eddie has been locked up in a cabin for around two months.

When he woke up in the upside down, gasping for air. He didn't understand what was going on. He fucking died and now he's breathing?

It felt like it took him hours to get up, slowly crawling to his old trailer. The rope hung down from where the group must have left through.

He had no strength but seeing the frames of Y/N and him on Wayne's walls gave him strength. He needed to make it back to her, and for her.

He landed in what was left of the trailer. Everything was shattered and broken. His heart broke for Wayne, his home was destroyed.

He prayed with everything in him Wayne and Y/N were safe.

Which led him to this cabin. Steve found Eddie wandering around the streets. He practically slammed on his breaks and ran to him. He was frantically shoving him in his car.

Steve explained everyone thought he was dead and to keep him safe until the group found a way to clear his name and for him to somehow be alive, he had to stay hidden.

Eddie begged to let him go home with Y/N. He promised he wouldn't leave the house. But Steve said it was too dangerous for her to know.

She needed to believe he was dead.

Everyday he missed her. He made it out alive because of her and he couldn't even be with her.

The second Nancy announced he could return home, he packed within seconds. He was going home to his girl, and he couldn't wait.

Y/N wasn't surprised by the knock on her door. The group stopped by daily to make sure she was still moving around inside.

She opened the door with a sigh, " yes I'm alive. Goodbye " before she closed the door she heard it.

She heard the voice. Eddie's voice. Her dead fiance's voice.

"baby."

She felt like her feet were glued to the floor. Her eyes bulging out as he stepped from the back to the front. Standing in front of Steve and Nancy, who were crying since they pulled up.

She didn't believe it. He was somehow here?

He reached out to her. His touch felt the same, it felt alive. She had to be dreaming or something.

She quickly stepped back, hurt flashed across his face.

"no you're dead. What is this? What is going on? " She was freaking out. Tears escaping her eyes at a rapid pace.

Eddie's heart was tugged as each tear fell. He was choked up he couldn't speak.

"He made it out alive somehow, Steve found him and it was too dangerous for him to come back into town. People thought he was a murder and dead. We needed to clear his name first." Nancy tried to explain.

All Y/N felt was anger and betrayal.

" you all knew he was alive and never thought to tell me? How long has he been alive?"

The group flinched at her tone.

Robin muttered, "two months."

A choked sob released from Y/N throat. For two months she has been in her own hell, learning to accept the love of her life is dead. And now they are telling her she was suffering for nothing?

Her anger was getting the best of her. She was blowing up

"that's why you didn't let me go see his body. Or plan his funeral. Because there was no body to see! No body to be buried. I was mourning over a body that was still god damn breathing. And you all watched me."

Eddie didn't think he could have his heart broken more. He could just imagine her begging to have a peace of mind. She wanted to give him a proper burial. She wanted to give him a funeral, while the town thought he was a murder. He hated thinking about her crying every night, wishing for him to be alive. All of that not knowing he was breathing just miles away.

"Baby. I totally understand why you are upset but they were trying to do the best thing for everyone."

Her eyes snapped to him.

"best thing for everyone? What about me huh? I never got to say goodbye Eddie! Do you know how bad that fucking hurt? How that kept me awake for the past two months? That I didn't get to tell you I loved you for the last time? That shit fucks with your head Eddie. I thought the man I was planning a wedding with fucking died! And no one would give me answers. No one would let me say goodbye to his goddamn body. No one allowed me to do anything. I was just supposed to move on? I don't even want to speak or look at any of you. Get the fuck out of my house."

She blew up and she didn't regret it. She has been holding that for months. She didn't even allow herself to feel relief that the fact Eddie was alive. She slammed her bedroom door and jumped on her bed. Hugging Eddie's pillow, the same one she's been sleeping with for two months.

Eddie apologized and shut the door behind the group. With a deep breath he headed up the stairs. He noticed nothing in the house changed. The clothes he left in the corner of the hallway, still laid untouched. The dishes he made the morning of sat in the sink. Every thing he touched or left that day was in the same exact spot. He felt tears in his eyes. Thinking of her hurting too much to even move anything. She needed some reassurance his presence was around and that killed him.

He turned the knob softly to see her crying into a pillow. He took sight of the room. Their bed was a mess, which was odd she always made the bed.

"Decided to change up the decoration?" He tried to joke as he gestured to the bed.

She rolled her eyes at his attempt. Her voice was dry and cracked, "no. Your body left a dent in the mattress and I couldn't get rid of it. It somehow felt like you were here."

He hung his head, sobs were slowly making their way out. Once the first sob made it out he ran to her. He didn't care that she was mad at him. He needed to feel her. He sat and yanked her in his lap. Cradling her as they cried.

And they cried for hours. Holding each other in silence once everything was out.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I can't imagine how horrible that was." He spoke softly into her ear. Her body was finally calming down. Their tears were dried on their face.

"let's not talk about it. Just kiss me and hold me."

So he did. He kissed her with every ounce of love he had for her. Every night he had to sleep without her. Every night she had to sleep with his pillow.

They'd pull apart to breath just to kiss again. It was salty because of their tears but they didn't care. Being in each other's arms was all they needed.

She could feel his heartbeat and that was all she needed to sleep that night.

Tags

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson request

586 notes · View notes

thefallennightmare · 1 year

Text

Moment of Weakness-thirteen

*credit to whoever created the gif. found on google/Pinterest *

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Authors Notes: tbh, I'm still trying to figure out a mob storyline, like how with my last story Bucky was creating serum. But now I'm at a loss as to what it could be for this one. feel free to send me some ideas!

Tags(open): @splendidreads @sebsgirl71479 @mdpplgtz03 @pattiemac1 @unaxv @elizacusi-blog @alana4610 @broadwaybabe18 @themayzittcha @playboystark @raajali3 @ozwriterchick @ragamuffin285 @screamingdying @themorningsunshine @kenziekugler22 @calwitch @sebastianstansqueen @stanaddict @stucky-simp03 @sleyeveryday @loustan90 @lyra-black13 @valsworldofcreativity @cjand10 @tesseract69 @batprincess1013 @subwaysurf45 @arsonfrogger @winters1917 @yoruse @5moremin @lipstickandtanqueray @mandijo17 @joannaromanoff @justsebstan

“Bucky, stop it,” I giggled, feeling his presence behind me.

He hummed while burying his face deeper into my neck, fingers softly tickling my sides.

“You smell so good, doll.”

I sighed while setting down the papers I was trying to fax and leaned my head back against his shoulder while looking up at him.

“It’s called a shower. Soap, shampoo.”

Bucky smirked. “Naked, I know the drill.”

I smacked his chest while removing myself from his grasp and went back to my work.

It had been almost a month now of our affair and we had been so perfect now to get caught that the last thing I needed was for Steve or Sam to walk into work and see Bucky’s lips all over me. There were a few stolen glances, soft touches, and quick kisses in his office. We opted on fully seeing each other at my house, never thinking of going to his house.

Most nights were spent having sex and Bucky left right after but lately, it had been lounging on the couch and watching movies, Bucky still leaving afterwards. Every time he would go back to Natasha, my heart would chip away. I couldn’t be upset with him though because that was the price for our affair.

“Where are you going?” Bucky pouted while reaching for me.

I playfully smacked his hands away. “Someone gave me a list of things to get done today and I’ve barely made a dent.”

He shrugged. “You can take a break. Boss’ orders.”

“You have a meeting with Stark in twenty minutes, remember?” I reminded him.

“All I need is five,” his brows wiggled while he leaned against the wall, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

My abdomen burned with his suggestive tone but I merely shook my head. “Trust me, I know that’s all you need. But I’m not risking getting caught cause you’re horny.”

His bottom lip pouted and after a quick glance around, I took it between my own lips while ghosting a hand down his stomach and ghosted over his cock. Bucky groaned into the kiss.

“Fucking tease,” he hissed.

I gave him one last kiss. “Come by tonight and maybe I’ll finish what I started.”

“I’m holding you to that, doll.”

A loud squeal erupted from my throat when I walked past Bucky and felt him smack my ass quite hard and he simply shrugged then walked into his office.

“Hey, what is Stark even coming for anyway?”

I was sitting at my desk while Bucky sat at his.

“He’s funding the next project for Barnes Industries,” Bucky said.

“Which is?” I pried with a small smile.

He shook his head, however. “Not something you need to know, doll.”

In the way he ended the conversation, I knew it wasn’t best to try and get more information out of him. There were some things that Bucky wouldn’t tell me about his place in the mob and even if he said it was for my safety, I couldn't help but wonder what he was working on behind closed doors.

The rest of the morning passed by pretty quick, the meeting with Stark taking up majority of Bucky’s time so I barely saw him. He did manage to send me a few texts during the meeting.

I miss you.

I bet you’re staring at your work with a small smile on your face.

All I can think about is your mouth on my cock.

The last one caused my cheeks to flush and I had to make sure no one was around to read it on my phone. Thankfully, Steve and Sam were out doing the lunch pick up for me, since they saw I was buried in work. The three of us had just finished our lunch together on the couch in the main area of the office when the door behind me opened Stark greeting us with a smile.

“Afternoon. Say, Y/N, I heard you stood up to Clint Barton,” Tony asked with a raised brow.

I gave a half shrug. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. I just told him that I knew more than he thought I did, that’s all.”

“Don’t be too sure,” Stark placed his infamous glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Barton doesn’t like being played like a fool, especially by women.”

My heart began to beat fast and Steve noticed the way I shifted in my chair, placing a comforting hand on my knee to stop it from shaking.

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Y/N,” Steve assured me.

All I could do was nod while Bucky appeared behind Stark and showed him the way out, his eyes landing on Steve and me. The way his pupils darkened told me that he was jealous with how close we were.

Steve must have sensed it because he removed his hand, placing it in his own lap.

“Sam, any word from your guy if it’s ready?” Bucky asked.

Sam held up his phone. “It’ll be ready in an hour.”

I looked between them, confused, and wanted to ask what they were talking about but with the stance Bucky had, I kept my lips shut.

Bucky tossed a large leather bag onto Steve’s lap with a bit of extra force. “Why don’t you and Steve head over there to pick it up.”

Steve snickered while running a hand through his hair. “No need to be jealous, punk.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “Get it done, jerk.”

He then turned his attention towards me. “Y/N, can I see you in my office please?”

I swallowed thickly. “Sure.”

Bucky watched as Sam and Steve left before following me close into his office, the door locking shut behind us.

“Did I do-?”

My question was seized with Bucky’s lips on mine, ravishingly attacking them, while he backed me against the wall and locked me in with his hips. I ran my hands through his short hair, wishing I had something to grab and pull, so I settled with tracing my fingers behind his neck.

Bucky’s vibranium hand snuck up my shirt and began palming my left breast, my moan being swallowed by his tongue. He pulled away briefly, his pupils blown from lust, and began to bite down hard on my neck.

“Bucky,” I hissed. “Someone will see.”

“I don’t care,” he grunted into my neck, hips grinding into mine.

My eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of ecstasy, the tip of his grown cock pressing into my thigh. I went to work on his belt in hopes that his pants would follow, however, his phone rang from pocket halting all of our actions.

Bucky cursed as he pulled away and fished the phone out, eyes scanning the screen.

“Is it important?” I asked, breathless from our kiss.

He nodded. “Why don’t you head home for the rest of the day. I’ll come by after dinner.”

I noticed the way his shoulders tensed, and face went rigid with anger.

“Anything I could help with?”

Bucky cupped my cheek and left a gentle kiss upon it. “I appreciate the help, doll. But I can handle it.”

“Alright,” I nodded. “Eight o'clock?”

“Eight o'clock,” Bucky grinned.

I slammed the drawer shut with force, retrieving the pen I had been looking for, and hastily wrote down the list of things I needed to pick up at the store today for the office. My breathing was low and deep, anger festering low in my belly.

“Doll,” the voice breathed against the shell of my ear.

I pushed away from him and my desk, walking towards the other end of the office to do whatever I found for myself. As long as I was far away from him, I didn’t care what it was.

“Y/N,” Bucky sighed as he followed me.

“Leave me alone,” I demanded, not bothering to look at him.

He stepped in front of me, blocking my path towards the small break room. A groan of annoyance rumbled out of my throat.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized with a small pout.

I scoffed and put all of my weight on my left foot. “You’re sorry? You fucking ditched me, Bucky. I waited all night for you.”

He nodded and wrapped a hand around my wrist, bringing it to his lips and peppered kisses all over the skin there.

“I know but something came up.”

“Right, of course. What was it, work?” I questioned.

Bucky swallowed and avoided my gaze. “Yeah.”

My eyes sliced into him and removed myself from his grasp. “You’re a shit liar. Natasha posted a picture of the two of you at some club last night.”

“Shit,” he cursed.

“If you wanted to spend time with her, that’s all you had to say. I get it, she comes first.”

My body was pressed up against a door behind me, Bucky capturing my lips in such a breathtaking kiss that I stood frozen in his embrace. It was a hard one, parting my lips with the force of it. There was nothing soft about it, the door I was pressed against rattling as Bucky shifted our position, his thigh digging into my heated core, and grabbed my face between his hands.

Every single thought I had in my head exploded, to a bright, pounding white and I felt a desire twist in my insides heat up, ready to snap with my orgasm, thanks to Bucky moving my hips up which caused me to rut my pussy against his thigh.

There was a screaming voice in my head, however, to stop this before someone walked in because even if we were hidden behind the wall, if someone turned the corner, they would catch us. I went to pull away but Bucky’s grip in my hair tightened while he swallowed my tongue.

“No,” he said, bringing my lips back to his. Just like the previous kiss before.

He had me in his hands like putty and I ignored the voice in my mind, hands sneaking underneath his suit jacket and pressed himself closer to me, my entire skin feeling as if it was on fire.

“Hello?” A petite voice echoed.

Bucky and I practically jumped away from each other after hearing the familiar voice and while I fixed my hair and shirt, Bucky shifted his now prominent dick, hoping it wouldn’t show her what we were just doing.

“Bucky?” The voice sounded again.

He walked out in the open and smiled at Natasha. “What are you doing here, sweetheart?”

I leaned up against the wall to take a few deep breaths, hoping that the extra time would calm the redness that spread over my body. Natasha couldn’t see me so there was no way she caught what we had been doing.

“Are you here alone?” Natasha asked.

Bucky side eyed me and nodded. “Yeah, everyone went out for lunch.”

“Well, Clint showed up to the house and he kept rambling on about-.”

He grasped Natasha’s arm to silence her before pulling her into his office, my eyes watching with curiosity as to what the hell he didn’t want me to hear.

#mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #mob!bucky barnes x yn #mob!bucky barnes and yn #mob!bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes and reader #sebastian stan #moment of weakness-mob!bucky barnes

263 notes · View notes

adelacreations · 10 months

Note

The first thing Billy does when he wakes up is ask about his car.

Its enough to render everyone speechless, except for Dustin who immediately begins screeching about douchebag boys and you killed a bunch of people but sure, where's your car.

Steve and Max wince simultaneously. Each has first-hand experience in how seriously Billy takes the safe stats of his Camaro, and each knows the aftermath of what they have to tell him won't be pretty.

The collective group takes several steps back, playing an almost endless toss-up of not it until Max curses and up and comes out with it. The car's totalled. One big burnt out dent. No amount of money is bringing her back home to daddy.

Dustin balks in the middle of his rant.

"Steve. He's going purple. He's— Steve. Why is his face doing that. Steve—"

Steve laughs afterward. Laughs until he's trying. Until he throws up a little and cries again and then laughs some more. Because.

Who knew, right? All the people they've lost. All the bloodshed. The time spent fighting for the smallest foothold.

And all they had to do was take a hammer to Hargrove's car and tell him some interdimensional psychotic monster did it.

Because Billy Hargrove does in the space of two weeks what Hawkins' finest, two separate governments, the world's greatest minds and kid with actual, literal superpowers couldn't.

Billy Hargrove kills Vecna.

Spectacularly, violently, and screaming you killed my fucking car over and over until his voice gives out and the only thing he's hacking into is a bloody, meaty pulp on the floor.

"Should we stop him?" Mike wonders.

"Are you gonna get in range?" Lucas sniffs back.

"Someone buy him another Camaro in case Venca somehow comes back," Dustin suggests, peering over Steve's shoulder. Steve watched Billy jump up and down in the mush where Vecna's head used to be, and whistles.

"I don't think Vecna's coming back from that."

Anon, anon i love you so much for this. Thank you!

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy antis dni #may mayfield #stranger things #ficlet #my asks

83 notes · View notes

geminimoonbeamx · 2 years

Text

Reality Bites: Dazed & Confused (1/6)

A/N: First chapter?! Out now?! How? It feels so surreal to finally be sharing this. Ive held this story to my chest for over a year. If you want to(and I highly suggest you do) go give Beans version a read !@allaboardthereadingrailroad, I still cant believe we did this.

Warnings: Cursing. Drug use. Heavy Smut at the end of the chapter. Fingering. Penetration. Pet names. Minors, do not interact.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Plus Sized Reader. Circa Season Three.

Summary: Sam Goody was the perfect job for the summer; inside the shiny new mall, your best friends a co-worker, and free music? What was not to love. That was until Steve Harrington got a job on ground floor at Scoops and flipped your “perfect summer”upside down.

Chapter One: Opening Time Down on Fascination Street

You smoke too much weed.

It’s a sentiment you’ve found yourself reflecting on lots of times. In English class last year when you were so high that you could barely remember the plot of Hamlet. At work, last week at work when a group of beyond annoying freshmen had plowed in; you’d had dozens of records to sort in their wake, and it had all been like a mahjong fever dream.

You'd never been so high that you couldn't function, your adventures in ganja land were all pretty tame- never leaning into psychedelic darkness or any of that other bad trip shit other people talked about.

Until last week.

No. Your brain rejected the memory that desperately tried to peek from behind the curtain of your subconscious.

No. No. You smoke too much weed. You and Bean were stoned.

It was a dog.

A dog that had left a dent the size of a fucking person on your hood. You flinch at the thought. Of both the dog you'd hit, and the damage to your car.

It was a just a stray dog. Or some assholes runaway….

A dog with no fur. Reptilian, and monstrous.

You choke on the memory- or maybe that’s the doobie you’d found under your seat.

When you can string together two breaths; you use the reprieve to reapply lip gloss and wipe your at your eyeliner because priorities. You cant stroll into work looking high, or ugly. Neither were viable options, obviously.

After desperate gulp of the stale sprite that’s been sitting in the cup holder for days, you’re out of the car.

Hopefully the floral-y Chloe that you’d drenched yourself in an hour ago somehow manages to mask the skunk smell that you know tends to cling to the woven fabric of your work Polo.

You pop a piece of gum and slide on a pair of aviators, contingencies.

The parking lot of Star Court is pretty tame- if you consider tame 50 cars deep. Before noon.

Ever since the Mall had opened its doors; they never seemed to close. It had become the place to be, a plethora of never ending activity’s and the residents of Hawkins we’re proverbial deer in the headlights. Or front grills- however you choose to look at it.

You’re just happy you’d scored a spot that wasn't a hike to the mouth of the food court.

Your feet phantom ache just thinking about the evening shift you’d worked a couple days ago.

Parking near the east entrance had it’s perks. The lot was always easier(since everyone wanted to hit JC Pennys and the Theater from the main) on this side.

And if the path happened to take you by a certain Ice Cream parlor, well. That was just an added bonus.

Making a work uniform look good is a feat. One even you don't think you quite clear. Half of your hair is pulled up high, hours of labor keeping it both straight and voluminous, and the sugar pink gloss you don is sparkly in the fluorescent plaza lights.

There’s nothing you can do about the uniform making you look like your body shape is Maytag Double Wide, though.

Your manager is a Nazi who refused to hear any complaints about the heinous sizing of the Polos. It wouldn't really be that expensive to get them tailored.

Ring corporate, call it a company expense.

Whatever, it's temporary. After summer…you'll figure that out come August. You wouldn't be stuck working in a Record shop for the rest of your life. Right?- God maybe you really should stop smoking, or like take a tolerance break because when did you get so paranoid?

Theres one place in the mall that you always get your jollies off; a sugar high and a show is always in store.

Steve Harrington had been Hawkins High’s superstar. There wasn't a sport he didn't play and you’d witnessed him in all of his various Jersey Glory for the four years of public high school-

So seeing him dressed in the fluorescent blue and red striped sailor get up that Scoops Ahoy required of him never failed to fuck your brain.

Aw, how the mighty had fallen. Hard.

You could barely take him seriously on any given day, but when he was wearing a glorified Dollar Mart Halloween costume? Well, if you cracked up every time you looked at him, who could blame you?

He’s standing at the front of the store, surprisingly not surrounded by either girls or his usual group of 8th graders. Both as odd as the other.

His arms are crossed over his chest and he seems to be contemplating something. Are there any thoughts in that pretty head other than what hair gel he should buy next?

When he notices you making your way to the escalator he perks up a bit.

“Good morning, Y/N” He greets with that grin. That charming grin- the panty dropper, so infamously named. You’d never been on the receiving end of it back in school but now he flashes it at you whenever he gets the chance.

You have to say, the sailor hat atop his fluffy head kind of dims its power.

Your traitorous stomach flutters in protests at that statement.

“Mmm, it’s nearly noon but good morning” Being casually uninterested is definitely harder to accomplish then Cosmo makes it out to be. “You seem totally spaced. Did the Junior Varsity squad decide not to come pay you your weekly visit?”

Instead of being offended, as usual, the snark just makes his grin widen. It’s so annoying.

Steve is unshakeable.

Unbotherable.

No matter how bitchy you get, how dismissive and annoyed you appear he just takes it all in stride.

“No, actually that’s scheduled for Wednesday’s, you cheerleaders are always very timely. Guess I gotta thank Coach Ross for those tardy drills”

“For one; Former cheerleader” you interject feeling a little too exposed by his teasing gaze “two; if it isn’t a lack of Pom poms that has you looking like- that. Then what is it?”

“What is what exactly?” He shoots back, the glint in his eyes telling you that he knew exactly what you were talking about.

“You know what, what is” You deadpan, not wanting to play into his game.

“No, please, elaborate”

God. You seriously have to muster every ounce of fucking maturity you have with this guy. It’s always like this when you talk to him. Rapid fire, back and forth. It feels chaotic and borderline childish.

You take a deep breath and force yourself not audibly groan at him.

“Steven, Why do you look like someone ran over your dog” you hope it wasn’t you- the other day. In the woods.

Does Steve even have a dog? Your conversations never last that long.

He chuckles and quirks his mouth, “I’m fine”

One manicured eyebrow raises and you push your sunglasses up into your hairline so that you can really assess him.

He’s kind of a horrible liar.

You’ve learned during the duration of the warm summery months. During the time that both of you had been employed at Starcourt. He was an itch you couldn’t scratch, a pebble in your shoe and some how some way the two of you always ended up bumping into each other.

The universe a pinball machine and you a simple sphere, constantly bumping and clashing into Steve’s presence at every turn. It was jarring. And loud. And you hadn’t quite found the angle or velocity that would keep your path Harrington free.

Eventually you’d get it though.

“Riiiiight. No seriously what happened? Did another kid puke up their Rocky Road- or worse” you mock gasp before going on “did Sally’s run out of Aquanet?”

“You’re a real dick, you know that” Steve shakes his head- not appearing any less amused. His brown eyes interested. Looking at you in a way that they never had before the summer.

It still makes you want to retreat. Head for the fort. Red flags, millions of them, might as well cover him from head to toe.

He shouldn’t look at you like that while calling you a dick.

He should look at you like that at all.

“If you must know- a friend of mine is going away for the summer and it just sucks, okay” He finally admits, the genuine disappointment apparent in his tone.

You open your mouth, to console him. Maybe. Probably.

What comes out instead is a small snort as puzzle pieces interlock in your head.

“Wait, you mean Dustin, huh?”

Dustin, your next door neighbor.

The dorky curly headed thirteen year old boy that seemed to be Steve’s best friend as of late. Steve was at the Henderson’s at least once a week and Dustin and his group of friends were at the Ice Cream shop once a day.

It was kind of cute, in the very weirdest way.

“Yeah, so?” Steve’s trying so hard to be nonchalant and you’re trying so hard not to bust out in laughter. “He’s a cool kid- and he was helping me with college essays, get an early jump on next year is the plan”

His ego can spare the lashing, I mean look at him. You’ll berate him later.

Dustin is a decently cool kid who you knew had gotten teased pretty mercilessly when he was younger for his teeth, or lack there of. You kind of appreciated that Steve was nice to him and didn’t bully him, which for the former jock, was a new theme.

“He’s going to be gone a month. I’m sure you can learn to live without him- and for your essays they’re really not that hard”

“Oh yeah? You breezed through yours, huh?” Steve looks interested, impressed maybe.

Or maybe he’s just bored.

“Yup” you lie. You hadn’t sent one in since before graduation. And even then, procrastination has slammed you sideways. There were no acceptance letters waiting for you.

“Well maybe you could help me with mine? If you had time we could like, meetup. I mean obviously not here. At the mall. Where were both employed-“

How did this guy score the masses of pussy he had, back in high school?

But most importantly, what was he trying to do here? Hanging out, outside of the walls of the mall? What- like a date?

No, your brain supplies. He’d never…

And if he did, it would have to be a part of some kind of joke. King Steve would never be caught asking a fat girl out. Que laughter and thrown tomatoes. Tommy H peeking from behind a puller with a camcorder

“Hard pass” you interject, quick and blunt “But good luck on your essays. See you later, Steve”

And with a very awkward half wave between the two of you, you’re off- the escalator carrying you up and away from the unwanted scenario.

If only you had an escalator for all of your issues.

You’re thinking about that very sentiment later in the day, five hours into your shift and 3/4ths through your sanity.

If you had to clean up after people’s kids one. More. Time. You were going to scream.

“Who brings kids into a record store anyway” You snark, having to put stacks of cassettes back in their proper home “Not to be a bitch, but I really wish forced sterilization was a thing”

Bean chuckles from her place behind the counter. The store had been pretty on and off- a normal Thursday.

“I’m pretty sure you very much do mean to be a bitch”

“I’m pretty sure those motherfuckers should legally not be allowed to have more children” that family of six had destroyed the whole kids aisle.

Another thing you protested. Why should we have to have a kids' aisle? You wanted to collect all the He Man TV Soundtack’s and throw them in the dumpster.

When you’re finished, you meet her behind the counter. It’s technically the two of you guys’ break but we’ll since the store was empty you didn’t see a reason to go navigate the steadily filling mall.

And Bean? Her head was buried in a book, the top of her dark hair visible as her eyes were plastered to the pages. It wasn’t an uncommon sight. Like at all. Bean was a Bonafide Nerd with a capital N and you kind of loved her for it.

What was uncommon though was her particular choice of reading material.

‘The Unidentified and Creatures of the Outer Edge: A Collection of Accounts by Edward J Rupplet’

The title is in bold silver letters. You bite the inside of your lip hard as you gloss over it.

Grabbing Strawberry Banana Orange Julius she had grabbed you on her lunch run, you plop down on the swivel chair behind the counter.

“Doing a little light reading?” You inquire as you stir at the thick smoothie with the straw. Voice strong- void of any of the anxiety you feel about her fascination with the subject.

Or at least you hope it is.

“Did you know that Indiana’s a hub for unidentifiable activity- that in the last fifteen years there’s been a surge in all kind of sightings around the state but especially around Roane County” she chatters a mile a minute.

The way she always does when that brain of hers is working faster then her mouth can.

“No I didn’t know that. Nor did I want to but thanks”

Bean looks up then “You can’t tell me that you still think we hit a dog”

“We did”

“The dent on your hood is the size of TV”

“A Great Dane then”

….”You know the brain does this thing with trauma, like universally, when an event is too traumatic for us to handle the brain process it through-“ Bean starts, slowly, dark eyes meeting yours over the lip of her book.

“The stages of Seven Stages of Grief. Yeah, I know”

“Well did you know that Denial is the first one?”

You give your friend a sharp glare.

“The only thing I’m in denial about is having to fix my fucked up hood. Uncle Elliots making me pay for it all by my self. Its going to be 200 dollars! How bogus is that!”

Bean gives you a look- one that says “I call you out on your bullshit”, without actually calling you out on your bullshit.

And continues to let you play it off.

As a good friend does.

Saturday, Summer 1985

You scan the note held to the fridge with a strawberry magnet.

In the city for the weekend, left money in the office. No take out!

Fix your car, lovey- or else I’ll let Hop write that ticket.

Kisses, Uncle Eliot

Your surgeon of an Uncle is out of town at least once every couple months. Confrences. Conventions- that’s lost to you. He always comes back from Indianapolis cherry as can be- and with gifts so it like, works.

The house is too quiet in his absence. It used to bother you, when you were younger, unacclimated. You don’t mind it anymore, being alone. The silence still sucks. But-

Watching TV at a mind numbing decimal will fix that.

There's a soft chirruping meow as Bowie, your big ragdoll tabby, hops up on the counter beside you.

“It’s me and you, baby. As usual” You kiss his wet little pink nose, and scoop him up, ignoring his indignant squawk as you cradle I’m to your chest, holding him like a newborn you trek down the stairs, ready to turn on something soapy.

It's your own fault that you're doing nothing but rotting away in the house on a perfectly good Saturday night.

Heather had called, inviting you to some afterhours thing they were doing at the pool. She was totally going to get fired if they got caught and her dad was going to rip her a new one- you reminded her of that fact,

But like, all the lifeguards were going. Which meant Billy would be there, so she had to be, too. Duh.

Ugh, you would never get the appeal. Billy Hargrove was so microwaved white trash. Half baked Motley Crue- at least Tommy Lee could actually pull off the mullet. You didn't get the hypefest around him.

“I guess” You try to be supportive, but the level of unimpressed you are is unmaskable.

“You guess? God, what's been up with you lately? This is the last summer before everyone goes off to school! I mean Tracys leaving for ASU in three weeks! This is one of the last times we’ll be able to get the squad together”

She's so excited for the fall, they all are. All of your friends dispersing like confetti around the country for school.

It makes your stomach churn.

Heathers words are sharper than she intended for them to be, and even hours later they are echoing heavily around your head. You can't let them go. Because by the end of the summer Tracy will be in Alabama. And Heather off to Pennsylvania.

Even Bean would be leaving, you comfort yourself with the fact that she’d still technically be in the state but fuck. She’d become something like your best friend since that faithful AP Lit class, and the impending countdown to her departure was ever present. Even if the two of you smoked yourselves silly, as you normally did, it still came up.

Her leaving. You’re staying.

And that damn dog!

Becoming one with the sofa while battling intrusive thoughts is not it.

You need to work through your chores, and honestly, you’d rather deal with shoveling out cat shit then shoveling out the hundreds of dollars that it will take to fix your car.

Both of which Uncle Elliot was expecting to be done by the time he gets home.

You’re shuffling down to the end of the driveway, a heavy trash bag swinging to and through as you bop along down the path. After threatening Bowie, emptily of course, that he was going to live in the garage from here on out, with his stinky ass.

It's hot and sticky; the Indiana summer not loosening its grip anytime soon and the tank top and shorts combo you don does nothing to keep you cool. You love first world amenities, and all you want to do is get back inside before you end up having to take a second shower and or be covered in mosquito bites.

The night is still, like most are in Hawkins. The stars bright and clear, no clouds in sight. The chance of precipitation slim to none, as the weatherman had cheerfully announced on the night time news report.

You try not to be scared, because you're a grown woman. Freshly eighteen, but eighteen nonetheless since the end of May. Grownups aren’t scared to walk down their stupidly long drive way.

Grownups don't get so high that they hallucinate monsters shaped like dogs, and if they do then they're grown up enough to know that it was just a figure of their imagination.

Why did your street have to be so dark? One of the few streetlamps had gone out in February. And still zilch. Shouldn't the city do something about this? Parks & Recs? The Zoning Committee?

You're wondering where exactly your tax dollars go as you lift the lid of the pail, swinging the bag-

It all happens in slow motion, but in the flash of an eye:

There’s a bang from across the street, and well- you’ve been jumpier than usual lately. Unfortunately for you, the curb decides it would like to stomp you. You end up flat on your ass, but not before your kneecap meets rough concrete.

“Mother fucker” You curse loudly, more confused then anything. Your equilibrium thrown off by the sudden fall.

“Oh shit- Y/N, are you okay?” The voice is deep and familiar and oh god. Why you?

What kind of karmic retribution had you been sent on this earth to repay?

And why couldn't the earth open up and swallow you, right now. Right at this very moment?

“Steve?”

Is all you can brilliantly come up with as the jean clad figure comes closer, out of the darkness. He’d dropped- is that a fence panel?- by his car, which was parked in front of the Hendersons.

“Yeah, it’s me. Are you-” His hands are flaying the tiniest bit as he goes to lean down.

“Are you stalking me? What the hell are you doing here?” You cut him off quickly, scooting away a bit, then hissing when your knee stings. Of course youre bleeding, the skinning minimal, but deep enough that crimson rears up.

“Hey, chill out for a second- I’m not stalking you, I was finishing helping Miss Henderson do some cleaning up in her backyard and- you know what, I actually don't need to explain myself to you. What are you doing out here and why did you just use your driveway as a trampoline?” ugh god, why? Driveway as a trampoline? You’ll never recover.

You groan and fight the urge to bury your burning face in your hands. He’s just about the last person you’d ever want to see you literally ass down.

“Y/N? Did you bang your head or something?”

You're examining your bended knee, and no, it’s not bad at all. A little anti-bacterial and you’ll be fine. You need hydrogen peroxide for your soul right now, an ego cleansing, if you will.

“No, just my knee. I’m fine, stop Steve-” You slap his hand away as its extended to you, but he's a persistent little shit and just grabs your forearm instead “I’m fine”

“Cool. You’re fine. Can you not be difficult for like, a nanosecond and let me help you up so we can see if you really hurt yourself or not?”

“I just fell” You insist, because he’s being dramatic and you don't need him to mother hen you. Like ever.

“Yeah, and Robbie Cohen broke his ankle just falling during practice last year. Get up and put some weight on it so we can see if you really hurt yourself or not” he still hasn't let go of your arm and you know he would, if you really pressed the issue.

You should press the issue.

Instead, you sigh and hold your other hand out. Arms held out in a pathetic grabby motion.

The bastard has the nerve to chuckle about it.

You let him pick you up off the ground, and although he’s surprisingly strong, you refuse to allow him to take all of your weight. Absolutely not.

“Do you even know what a nanosecond is?” you insult him once you're standing, feeling defensive as he assesses your bare leg.

“Yeah, like a super second, right?” He’s kidding. Maybe? Before he tells you to step down on your right foot, balancing your weight on both legs. You dont scream out in pain, your knee doesn't buckle. Just like you thought, it's just a scrape. Probably not even deep enough to scar, but there is blood dripping slow down your leg.

“I think you're okay, but you should probably clean it up. I could help, if you need it. I know some gir-people are squeamish when it comes to blood” He catches himself on that girl comment, fumbling through it a bit, but in a weirdly pleasant way.

“My uncles a surgeon” You deadpan.

“Oh yeah, uh, I do remember that. My mom, her gallbladder, surgery you know” He nods, biting the inside of his bottom lip as though thinking pensively “I could still help you…if you wanted me to.”

It was a perfectly good Saturday night that you were wasting…

What it wasn’t supposed to include was Steve Harrington but well?

Universe; pinball machine. You: a tiny sphere at its mercy.

There’s a few sights you never thought you’d see,

Steve Harrington man spread on the round, mustard colored couch in your living room is one of them. It's such an odd sight that your eyes almost can't focus on it.

It’s either that or the glass of wine you're nursing.

There hadn't been much cleaning up to do, for your fucking scrape. But Steve had insisted you sit down at the kitchen table and let him play doctor. Neosporin and all, you’d had to will yourself to sit still as he touched you, finger tips grazing over bare skin.

Its just your knee for fucks sake. Just a knee- you'd repeated like a mantra. Acquaintances touch each others knees all the time. It’s fine. You don't even like Steve. He’s barely even an acquaintance.

You donned a Care Bear Band-Aid for your troubles, and a glass of wine, or two, for your nerves.

You’d been raiding Uncle Elliot’s liquor cabinet for years, and as long as you never finished anything off, he was pretty cool about it. You didn't dare touch the top shelf.

“It’s really 70’s in here, like…a time capsule” Steve observes, his own wine glass mostly empty in his hand. Another refill needed “But not in a bad way”

“Fabulous, right? My uncle still thinks he’s the dancing queen” He sniggers at that, taking another gulp “But he has this weird fear of second stores, so he, uh actually gets new furniture like reupholstered to look older”

“Ah,” Steve confirms “so it runs in the family”

“What runs in the family, asshole?” You turn on the couch, criss-cross applesauce, thick thighs on display because fuck it, there was no point in hiding them from him.

“How particular you are” he makes a broad gesture with his hands. At you. It makes you feel…seen. And you do not like it.

“What do you mean by that?” You glare, eyes focused in on him, his Adam's apple bobs.

“Don't get touchy, I just mean you are really picky. Like hair trigger picky”

“And you know that how? Because were friends?” The laugh you let out is cold, a mimic you’d picked up from Bean “Best friends? Since when? Never.”

“Bullshit, yeah, we aren’t best friends. But were friendly. We had all the same friends in school, we’ve been running in the same circle since we were thirteen”

Now you full on laugh because all of that hair spray he uses has to be affecting his brain. Clogged hair particles must lead to like brainwave malfunction.

“No Steve, we had friends of friends in High School- and any time before that you ran with Tommy H and all those other douche bags. I can assure you, you were not my friend. Like, at all”

You hate talking about it, acknowledging that there was a period of your life, before you’d learned to adapt, where you’d stuck out like a sore thumb. And where Steve and his friends had made you feel that difference. That distance from everyone else.

He’d bullied you, simple as that.

And he knew it.

It’s why at he couldn’t look you in the eye when the subject was brought up, why he palmed the back of his hot neck awkwardly and fisted the stem of the wine glass way too tight.

“Look Y/N, when we were kids. It was all so different and-“

“It’s fine Harrington, just stop” you snort because as much as you love to see him grovel, you can’t bear to hear him apologize. It literally makes you feel like you’re going to be sick, embarrassment makes your mouth water threateningly. “We’re adults now, it’s water under the bridge”

You do not and will not ever accept his pity, or his apologies.

“Yeah, right” he mutters as he takes a swig of his wine- and then looks at it and decides to down it all.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve been trying to be friends with you all summer. Since I found out you were working at Starcourt, too. It’s nice to have a familiar face around, you know? I don’t- I see the old group, run the rounds. Sometimes. But after I stopped talking to Tommy and we all graduated shit got weird” Steve explains, kind of. In pieces.

He’s the most obvious puzzle.

You don’t say anything because you get it. Shit got weird. That phone call with Heather earlier was weird.

You grab the bottle and top yourself off- Steve let’s you do the same to his glass.

“Shit has indeed gotten weird” you agree, “King Steve, hanging out with little ol’ me. We must be living in an alternate dimension”

He half chokes on his drink. “Stranger things have happened”

“Yeah fucking tell me about it”

“Keep getting me liquored up and you just might get lucky” He. Is. So. Cheesy. Good god.

This can’t be the same Steve that caused a full on riot brawl in the girls locker room.

“How’d you get so much pussy back in school with pick up lines like those?” You’re just on the right side of wine tipsy. The liquor makes you bold, makes you feel sexy and daring.

It also makes you want to kiss, but that part you can ignore.

Steve smiles, obviously entertained “You think I’m trying to pick you up? That’s a little presumptuous of you”

You want to tell him to spell presumptuous.

“Are you telling me you’re not?” You inquire instead.

He could say no. It’s a possibility. Maybe you’ve been reading this whole thing completely wrong. Maybe he’s really just been trying to make amends-

Or maybe he’s been looking down your top for the last half hour. You can’t say you blame him, the low cut coral tank top did make your tits look grade A.

Steve bites his lips a lot, when he’s nervous. When he’s turned on. Bright and cherry red and distracting.

“If I say yes are you gonna be a dick to me about it?”

You giggle, roll your eyes and scoot closer, leaning on your arms, your cleavage artfully on full display. “Probably”

“Then no, I’m not trying to pick you up” Steve protests, weakly. His gaze flicking fast between your face and your chest

Oh. He can not be this easy.

“My mistake” you shrug feigning casual. Well you hope. “I must’ve read the signals wrong”

You both know that was not the case.

The room is charged now, the energy thick and electric. Steve’s eyes haven’t left yours, fawn brown and searching. Like he’s trying to find a crack, some way in.

“You’ve really got this whole hot and cold thing down pat, hmm? On my break the other day you literally slammed your car door in my face-“

“You’re exaggerating”

“And now you’re being kinda slutty for me, Y/L/N” Steve informs you and it should not make your stomach lurch the way it does.

“I am not!” You protest, hating that word. Hating the way he’d said it. Hating the fact that you really, really want to jump his fucking bones.

“You are- it’s okay. I dig it. I know you can’t resist the Steve. Most women can’t” the words coupled with the tone on his voice sends you into a fit of laughter.

You can’t stand him, really. He’s so corny. He’s so annoying.

He is the worst most charming jerk you’ve ever met. The wine just makes it more apparent.

“For one you date girls not women Steve, shut up. And two, you said it yourself, you’re not trying to pick me up so it doesn’t really mat-“

You see it coming from a mile away.

All guys get that look, that really intense, almost scary one.

The one that means one thing.

Steve doesn’t lean in slow, doesn’t lead you into it at a snail's pace. One second he’s watching your lips move and in the next he’s abruptly covering them with his own.

Stealing the words from your mouth and the air from your lungs.

Your world tilts sideways.

It would be a bold face lie, to say you’d never imagined kissing Steve. Everyone in Hawkins has had fantasies about kissing Steve Harrington at least once.

The reality of it felt weightless and far away, down at the bottom of the discarded wine bottle on the coffee table.

He tastes warm, liquor sharp and flesh sweet, as you suck at his bottom lip.

Steve kisses like he’d played sports, confident of himself. Practiced almost, and yeah you bet he has had practice. Tons of it, His hands aren’t as sure as his mouth though, your body new. Uncharted territory. They hesitantly rest on your leg as he leans over you, inching upwards towards your chubby waist.

You bite his lip, hard, harder than you meant to when his hands get a little too close to going under your shirt.

He hisses, pulling away, tongue flicking over his bottom lip “No?”

“You first” you insist,

“Yeah?”

Your chest is pounding, blood rising in your ears and making it hard to think. You still know one thing though, you’re not showing him your body, yet. You’re not going to be vulnerable, first. “Yeah”

He just nods, yanking off his gray t-shirt, before leaning back down and kissing you until you’re dizzy, your fingers threaded in his thick hair, his thin hips snug between your thighs. It's humid between the two of you as your hands wander, cling, grope.

Every breath you take is of Steve and it’s stifling.

You whine, small and shakily as you pull away- the sound turning into a wet gasp as he kisses your face; nose, cheek, soft jaw and lands on your neck. Fingernails, Barbie pink, dig into his shoulder blades, all bare freckled skin when he mouths the tender skin, his teeth at play in a way that could make your eyes cross.

“Steve” you moan, as his mouth goes for your chest, you tugging at his hair not derailing him from completely ruining your tank top, wet with spit as he suckles on your clothed nipples single mindedly.

Can he not feel that you guys are about to lose your balance?

“Steve! Stop for a sec We’re about to fall, jackass” you warn him and he huffs, right into your cleavage before straightening up on his knees, both of you maneuvering for purchase on the couch. The tent in his jeans glaringly apparent.

“Wanna take this to your room?” He offers and really it’s smart. Your bed would be easier…

That also feels a lot more intimate and you can’t remember what you’d left out in your room. What hidden secrets were just chilling, waiting to be found.

“MmMhmm, I want to stay right here” you tell him, your hand tracing down his chest in what you think is a distracting manner. Steve nods, obviously game for whatever you’re willing to give.

“Wait” you still him with that same hand when he begins to lean back down.

He’s so…nice about it. Doesn’t protest when you say wait even though he looks like there’s nothing he wants to do less then stop. He doesn’t make you feel shitty or pressured, at least not in this moment. It’s weird. But you appreciate it.

You reach down to grab the ends of your top and wiggle yourself out of it, Steve helping when he realizes you’re going to have a little trouble getting it off while underneath him.

It’s scary, always, letting someone see you. A nervous, semi manic giggle trapped in your throat as he looks you over in the dim yellowish lighting emitting the standing lamp in the corner. You should’ve turned it off. You should get up and turn it the fuck off-

“Damn” he whispers, even though it’s just you two and an empty house.

The giggle breaks break free, your boobs giving a very gratuitous jiggle that has him making a sound, a throaty one as he buries his head between them.

“You enjoying yourself, Harrington?”

“Very much” he doesn’t pull up to reply.

You know the kinds of girls he’s dated- you don’t look like Cheryl or Laurie, and you sure as shit doesn’t look like Nancy Wheeler- but Steve doesn’t seem to mind. If anything he’s having a fucking hay day right now, his mouth and hands digging into your flesh.

You’re so soft all over, he can’t help but squeeze.

It’s a little blurry after that. From the wine and the hormones both. He pulls your shorts and panties off in one go- there goes his jeans. Flesh on flesh, so much friction it feels like it might start throwing sparks.

You’re shaking, pinned down underneath him with three of his long fingers buried inside of you when you’re able to put words to thought.

“Condom” you demand, voice going high as his hand pistons between your legs, his finger tips curling in a way that has you both arching towards him and shifting away from him because holy fuck that hurts so good.

“I don’t- shit, I think I have one in my car. You don’t have any?” His hand stills and you try to catch your breath, wracking your brain for something right now, which is pretty fucking hard with Steve knuckle deep.

You've got nothing. You hadn’t hooked up with anyone since before graduation.

“I don’t…” you whisper, shaking your head, bottom lip pursed.

His fingers slip from you with a squelch that isn’t as sexy when your moans aren’t an octave higher. And he huffs, exaggeratedly, before pecking you and hopping off the couch.

Its a- sight. Butt naked, dick bobbing. He's such a beanpole, but he’s hand to god hung down to his knee. Biting your cheek you try to determine whether you think that's hot or hilarious. A bit of both.

“You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute” Steve grumbles as he shimmy’s clumsily into his jeans, and only his jeans.

“You’re lucky I’m so cute!” You holler after him as he all but jogs up the stairs and out the front door, a man on a mission.

Its a quick interlude- not even a full two minutes but it gives you enough time to run to the lamp. The shroud of darkness comforting, easing the awkwardness that was steadily building. With Steve out of the house and you left inside, naked, you're really starting to reevaluate things.

Yanking a throw blanket from the armchair, you wrap yourself in it before plopping back down on the sofa.

Steve Harrington is outside getting a condom.

Oh my god, is this real life?

You wish you could call Bean.

Your brain’s going a mile a minute as you stare at the dark ceiling when you hear the front door open.

It’s dark, but not pitch. Your eyes have adjusted enough that you can see him, bare chested a little out of breath because of what must have been a sprint to his BMW.

“Ow, fuck- Y/N?” Steve stumbles over a piece of furniture with a clatter, not familiar with your home’s lay.

“Come here before you break something” you urge, reaching out and tugging on him once your fingers link.

“What, like my head?” His knees hit the couch and he's going for his fly.

“No, something more valuable. Like a vase” it should sound more malicious, on any other given day it would, but right now you just can't muster it. Not when he’s taking off his jeans, not when he's back to hovering over you. How are his eyes more intense in the dark?

“You okay?” He asks, like he cares. Your chest pulls something tight, an artery block or something. Maybe your uncle was right about eating pizza.

You nod fast, humming a sound of agreement.

Steves gently as he pries the throw blanket away from your body “Yeah, you sure? About this?”

“I’m sure- i-if you are, I mean” fuck, its so uncomfortable. These moments before always are.

“I'm sure” his voice is so much steadier than yours. Asshole. You yank him down, hard, by the back of the neck.

Its lips and tongue then, teeth and shivering flesh. The furnace between the two of you cranked back up to a hundred as you perch your knees high around his waist, as he settles back into making you squirm, hooking you on the ends of his fingers, and then quickly switching to fast strokes of your clit until you- oh fuck you’re not going to, are you?

You come with a shocked whine, your core clenching something piercing and good and holy fuck you can barely believe it.

Most men can't even find your clit, much less make you come. It’s always a fumbling experience, where you end up getting yourself off for them. The fact that Steve had gotten it, on his own, on the first go?

This can not be real.

“You good, baby? That feel good?” He mutters in your ear.

Baby? What is life? Like seriously, what is this?

You feel shaky and out of it now, and if you grab his free hand and make him hold yours, you’ll blame it on the endorphins later. You need a tether.

“Y-yeah, fuck, are you going to put on that condom or not?” he thinks its funny, the way you can barley talk but still manage to be a smartass. You think it's annoying, how fondly he's looking at you.

You have to get that look off of his face, kissing him’s a good of method as any.

Steve’s still a teenage boy, one who can make you come, but still. Nineteen. He jabs in a little too hard, hits an angle inside of you that makes you gasp with pain, that makes the two of your bodies go into limbo, a hard attempt at figuring out just how you fit together,

“There?”

“A little to the left, yeah”

“There?” he asks again and you can't stop grinning because maybe he's not good at everything. Maybe King Steve isn't the pussy pleaser everyone thought him to be,

He gains his bearings then, straightening out and thrusting just right as his hand goes back between your still throbbing legs, tracing where your bodies meet and the almost inhumane sound that tears itself from your throat cant even begin to cover how fucking. Good. It. Feels. So. Good.

You didn’t expect to spend your perfectly good, Saturday night hanging off Steve Harrington's dick. But you can't say you regret it, not when he's moaning your name in your ear.

Come Monday morning, you make your usual trek to work, through the parking lot and the food court.

You don't stop when the neon sign of Scoops Ahoy comes into view. When Steve gives you a hopeful grin from behind the ice cream counter.

It’s easy to pretend you don't see it and continue on up to Sam’s, the escalator your forever savior.

You're good at pretending.

Hope you enjoyed this monster of an intro chapter! Taglist is Open! But please be ready to leave some feedback if you’d like a tag.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x plus #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington imagines

420 notes · View notes

muddyorbsblr · 2 years

Text

a heart like yours part 4: the Romanoff intervention

Masterlist

Summary: Nat goes to see a god about a kiss and Wanda goes to see a sorcerer about unbreakable curses

Pairing: Steve x Reader; Loki x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: angst; sad Loki hours [let me know if i missed anything!]

"FRIDAY, could you tell me where Loki is right now?" Natasha asked into the hallway, fully knowing that the AI was listening to everything.

"Certainly, Agent Romanoff. Mister Laufeyson is on the roof deck with his brother at this moment. Will that be all?"

"That will be all, FRIDAY. Thank you."

She made her way up to the roof deck to find the gods sitting on the ground, Loki slumped over with his head between his knees, shoulders wracking violently, his brother looking somber and helpless as he held him in a loose embrace.

Thor caught sight of Natasha first, looking up at her from his current placement, eyes brimming with tears. "Natasha, have you news on Lady Y/N's condition?"

"Nothing new, I'm sorry. She's still asleep."

"So she's lost to us," Loki exhaled, his voice gruff no doubt from his grieving of you. "There is no chance, no sliver of hope that perhaps she could return. This world will be devoid of her. My existence bereft of her."

"I might have an idea," Natasha told them. "The last one I have really, but it's still something." He looked up at the spy, silently pleading for her to go on. He would scour the entire realm to find whoever she thought could wake you. "You, Loki. You could wake her."

"That's preposterous," he hissed, though without an ounce of his usual conviction whenever he spoke.

"You love her," she told the god. "That much is obvious, especially after today. You refused to let her go until we got here. You nearly dented Steve into the wall when we all realized he couldn't break the curse. You've protected her on every mission you've had together, at the risk of your own well-being. You think nobody notices, but we do. At least me and Wanda."

"Natasha, I know not what you talk about. Notices what?"

"Okay so maybe it all flies over your brother's head, but trust us, we notice. It's why Steve still hates you even after two years with us. When we see her asleep in the common area and she's blanketed up in your cape. That time she got the flu and for the first and only time, you cooked? Yeah we know that was for her."

"Ohh that was for Lady—"

"Shut up, Thor," she cut him off. "The point is I know. Wanda knows. Hell even Morgan Stark knows. If you have a chance to wake her, to break this curse and get to keep her alive, why aren't you taking it?"

The next words out the dark-haired god's mouth floored her, never once thinking she'd ever feel for him. But in this moment, she did. "I'm not worthy of her."

"What if you are?" she asked him. "What do you have to lose?"

"Tell me this, Agent Romanoff, what if I do wake her? What happens then? What will happen when she opens her eyes and sees me and there is nothing but shock and abhorrence in her eyes? What if she sees me and wishes she would return to her cursed slumber?"

"Did you ever think about what if she opened her eyes and she doesn't look at you with rejection? What if she sees who woke her and she's happy it was you? And regardless, wouldn't you at least take that chance if it meant she lives?"

She saw the resolve start sinking in to him, the realization that even if you were to wake up because of him and you didn't return his love, at least you were alive. "And what if she remains asleep?" he said in a broken whisper.

"Then you can take this time to say your goodbyes to her in private. You can spend her final days making sure that she's not alone, letting her know that she was loved." Natasha tried to maintain composure as she spoke about you as if you were already gone. "By no one more than you."

With a final nod, he looked at the spy, once again flooring her with his response. "Thank you, Natasha."

He stood and left her and his brother sitting on the roof deck, no doubt making his way back to you. To confess. To give you his heart. Risking it all for the sake of keeping you alive.

"Natasha, what if you're wrong? What if my brother cannot wake her?"

"I think he will. But if I'm wrong? Then at least he'll be able to tell her while a part of her is still around to hear him. Honestly, though, I really think he's our best shot. And he is worthy of her heart. Don't tell him I told you this but…I think she loves him, too."

"But she's courting our Captain--"

"There's one thing our friend Y/N and your brother have in common, Thor. They both believe they're not worthy. Even if he does wake her, they might need a little bit of encouraging from their friends and family to push them into each other's arms."

A small smile appeared on the blond god's face. "I will aid you in these efforts, my friend. Tell me what I must do."

"So what you're telling me, Stephen, is that this curse was only able to catch on to her in the first place, because it can be broken?" Wanda questioned the sorcerer after spending hours reading through every magical tome he had in his apartment within the Tower.

"That's what every grimoire we've consulted so far says. Curses cannot be cast unless there is a viable way to break them. An unbreakable curse would simply drain the witch who cast it of all their power and turn them into a magical vegetable."

"Y/N can be saved," she said, relief washing over her. "We just have to act fast."

"Yeah, find the guy who loves her with his entire heart. Like he hasn't been here the entire time, picking a fight with Rogers and fucking kneeling for her. Crying for her. Looking like he'd burn down the entire Yggdrasil just to get her to wake up."

"You know?"

"Who doesn't? Anyone who's seen how he acts at Stark's parties knows. Always hanging around close by ready to beat some manners into the horny fuckers who try to make a grab at her. Turning down the literal supermodels who abandon all their self-respect for one night with him and then immediately going to Y/N and asking her to dance with him right after. Those weren't just plays to get women to back off him, Wanda. That was a statement. 'This woman owns me and nobody can take me from her' type, grand gesture sweeping statement."

"Idiots," she grumbled. "All this time they loved each other—"

"And the god was too chicken shit to make a move. So the soldier did."

"And now we’re here," she breathed out, her exasperation over this predicament showing through. "Idiots, the both of them."

"We have to make him try," she pleaded with the sorcerer. "For Y/N."

"That we do. FRIDAY?"

"Yes, Doctor Strange?" the AI responded.

"Show me Laufeyson." An image projected into his room of Loki walking down a hallway. "Where's he going?"

"It appears that he's on his way to Agent Y/L/N's room in the medical wing. Earlier he was on the roof deck with Thor and Agent Romanoff."

"Alright. Thanks, FRIDAY." He turned to face Wanda. "Looks like he's actually going to try."

A bright smile formed on her face as she murmured, "Go, Loki."

A/N: I'm not ending it there tonight. Chapter 5's coming in a few hours.

Taglist:

Everything: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @redbluekjw @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman

a heart like yours: @huntress-artemiss @hotleaf-juice @clockblobber @sititran @taro-gabi @wolfsmom1 @rmoonstoner @ladymischief11 @anonymousewrites @unlucky-number-13

#loki x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x female reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson fanfic

266 notes · View notes

bogboyfig · 8 months

Text

Chapter 6, 'Going Steddie'

Eddie hadn't moved all morning. He sat, crossed legged, on the sofabed - staring across the room at the dent in the pillow where Steve's head had been a couple of hours earlier. The longer he camped out in the Harrington house, the more Steve seemed to relax around him; having made himself a permanent bed in the living room, Eddie was starting to see more and more of the unpolished version of Steve Harrington. The recollection of him, bundled in an old blanket, laid with a head of unkempt and damp hair, whispering into the dark, felt intimate in a way Eddie couldn't really put name to. Their shared routine taking shape, that promise of companionship settling into the dust of his newly-imploded life, was starting to feel like a new constant.

He bit at the skin of his thumb once more. If Eddie really put his mind to it, he could reason his little crush away. Nights alone in an empty house, then a cabin, then the woods - it was enough to make anyone starved for connection. He could choose to see it that way. To interpret the recently acknowledged fuzzy feeling in his stomach as nothing more than a craving to be seen, to be known. In the back of his mind, though, Eddie didn't fully buy what he was trying to sell. Sure, the remnants of an old schoolboy's crush and nights spent cooking dinner, chopping carrots in companionable silence, and hushed laughter in the dark - they were all good enough excuses for how he was feeling. And yet, from the moment he'd locked eyes with Steve over a half-broken bottle pressed into his neck, Eddie had been slowly peeling away the layers of someone he could dangerously, desperately like.

Then there was the possibility that Steve, "The Hair", Harrington had queer friends. It was certainly an interesting prospect. Eddie knew from experience, queerness moved in herds; was it possible that the playboy king of the Hawkins High of old...wasn't as straight-laced as he was thought to be? It seemed impossible when Eddie considered it, but then again - had Steve not been full of surprises? His patience, and seeming amusement, with Eddie had been the last thing he'd ever expected - not to mention his acceptance. But, was there not distance there too? A thumbs up from the sidelines, but not from within the game?

Eddie groaned, knotting his hands through his hair in frustration. He hadn't been in this position in many, many years - the intersection between queerness and sub-culture had given him a decent enough safety blanket that the is-he-gay-is-he-not routine could be largely avoided. Ask their opinion on Black Sabbath or what DnD class they favour and boom, a signal. Eddie bit his lip, he couldn't deny that between the shirts from The Gap and the cultural education that started and ended with pop-culture - Steve didn't exactly signal queer. Would he really be the type to, though?

Eddie glanced at the hallway door for a moment, before getting up and starting on his cautious stroll around Casa Harrington.

He realised now what had struck him about the hallway when he'd first walked in, just under a week ago - there were no pictures of Steve. Not even an embarrassing childhood photo tucked away on a bookshelf. Eddie eyed the stairs, feeling somewhat guilty, before he shook his head and cleared the first step - he told me I could explore...in lesser words. He reached the top of the stairs, and glancing to his right he saw the door to Steve's bedroom, slightly ajar as if in invitation. He slipped in.

Stood in the middle of the room, Eddie surveyed it. In the corner - a desk, clearly rarely used, was piled with a chaotic mix of paper and books. From the titles he could read, Eddie could see half-scribbled notes on first aid, folded and dog eared movie stubs, and a DnD guide with the gift tag poking out of the top as a bookmark. Eddie smiled - Dustin. The wall was marginally-more-controlled chaos; it seemed Steve was trying to cover up his wallpaper - between the area above the bed that had been picked and peeled, and the myriad of posters and polaroid pictures - the check pattern was barely visible. Eddie stepped closer and lifted a picture above the desk slightly with a finger. On it, Steve and Robin were sat on the hood of his car, laughing; Max, Lucas, and Dustin sat below them on the road. Eddie looked a little closer at Max, who was giving the camera the finger with a sarcastic grin. He turned away with an uncomfortable tightness in his chest, feeling invasive once more.

He turned to leave when a glint of metal caught his eye. In the corner, propped up against a mirror, was the studded bat. Eddie grinned. He strode over and picked it up - miming giving it a swing and remembering as he did Dustin's dramatic retelling of the very apex of Steve Harrington lore - Steve stood in the middle of a park, lit by moonlight and shrouded in fog, gearing up to take on three demodogs at the same time, like a noble and hardened rogue. Funny how weeks ago that would have been so unbelievable - that pretty little Steve Harrington was some heroic soldier of the fantasy variety. He set the bat back down and kicked at the VHS that had fallen from atop it's pile near Steve's dresser in the bat's displacement. A Rock Hudson movie. Huh, Eddie mused, That's something.

Eddie sighed and stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He resolved to ignore it. Whatever weird tension between him and Steve that his high brought up would pass in time. He'd gotten to like Stevie, as a friend if nothing else - that would be enough.

Read from Chapter 1 on A03

#steddie fic #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #I re-read it last night bc it had been a while since I finished writing it and I wanted to see if it held up #and I'm ngl I really popped off with this chapter #posts by fig

19 notes · View notes

unwillingwriter · 11 months

Text

Blue Shorts And Gloves (McDanno)

Summary: Danny... well Danny is Danny. Stella is a protective Sister and both Steve and herself wanna commit a crime when it comes to Danno.

A/N: Also on my A03 I was tired when I wrote this shit.

Steve couldn’t help the way his heart practically dropped to his ass his soul going beneath the gray concrete outside of the boxing ring his fingers tightening on the gate feeling the color drain from his face as his eyes widen it happened so fast that it was almost slow for Steve, to the untrained no one else could see what Steve just saw. He saw the punch he saw the form and he saw exactly where the opponent was gonna punch Danny– Steve cringed feeling nauseous when he saw how roughly and painfully Danny's head shot to the side, it was a cheap shot an illegal shot one that can cause life's worth of brain damage and death Daniel had told him about it, he even told Steve how that he did get a hit like that back when he was fourteen- he has the dent on the back of his head to prove it, it was on the right side behind Danny's earlobe a little down near his neck Steve hadn’t noticed till just now that he has been unintentionally standing on Dannys right side, to protect him– to keep those who know of the injury away from Danny. Steve had once put pressure on the dent. He was terrified when he heard the way Danny grunted those blue eyes rolling to the back of his head as his knees buckled. Steve immediately caught him when he noticed his mistake– he had unarmed Danny by one little push with his thumb.

Steve couldn’t stop saying sorry that day, he was mortified for Danny. “Stop saying sorry, you just caught me off guard Steve, it's okay, quit it.” Danny had given him that boyish Jersey grin. But right now Danny wasn’t grinning, he was staggering– Steve could see the way his legs were shaking trying to keep himself up after the blow– he could see the murky cloud overlay those blue eyes, they almost looked gray. Steve knuckles whitened by how hard he was gripping the bars, his heart stopping when Danny's body seemed to give in and collapse to the ground, his head bouncing on the floor rolling to the side away from Steve a harsh crack booming in the teen ears. No, Nope, No! No more!. The crowd cheered and groaned a mix of feelings, taking them all, “Danny!” a female screeched their voice holding pure terrier “keep that monster away from my brother!” the female– Stella, Danny's oldest sister– seethed her voice turning harsh and angry but Steve could hear the fear, Stella kept up with Steve who had rushed to the fighting ring door ripping it open the referee tries to stop Steve– Stella is the one to push him away making him land straight on his ass.

Are all the Williams siblings strong?.

Her eyes are cold when she looks at the older man speaking between her teeth– something Steve has seen Danny do plenty of times– “Keep that mutt on a leash” she growls out making her way to her unconscious brother quickly squatting down beside him carefully taking his face into her hands carefully turning his head towards her. Steve stood protectively in front of her to keep his eye on Killer, ‘ what a generic ass name, couldn't be more creative?’ Steve hears Danny voice in the back of his mind for when they were in the locker room when round 3 had ended and everyone was taking a break, Danny sitting on the bench as Steve was pouring water on the swollen side of Danny's face whipping it off with a towel, his blood staining it. ‘Not everyone can have a nice name like you Danny.’ Steve had smiled when he said that. ‘Hey the name means a lot to me, what's wrong with Jersey Shore?.’ ‘Nothing, just thought you would pick something more threatening.’ Danny had scoffed at that, ‘Hey my height and attitude make me threatening enough I’ll have you know.’ Steve grinned a bit ‘Sure Jersey Sure.’ ‘Kiss my ass Hawaii.’ Steve didn’t but he did kiss the blonde's forehead.

“Danny, Danny can you hear me runt? It's your big sister.” Stella spoke softly, gently rubbing the less bruised side of Daniels face to ease him awake. Killer had grinned at Steve, he didn’t like that so the most Steve could do was keep a straight face watching over Stella and Danny so he doesn’t commit a self defense murder. Danny needed medical attention, of course, but something in the back of his head told him Danny will be okay. And funny enough it sounded just like his blue sky.

#drabble #mcdanno #teen years #teen au #danny williams #steve mcgarrett #Stella Williams Russo #protectiveness #boxer au #bruises #jersey shore #its a nickname #young danny williams #'young steve mcgarrett

40 notes · View notes

glowingraindrops · 1 year

Text

You Drew Stars Around My Scars

Prt.1

————————————————————————

Eddie was bleeding. Eddie was bleeding a lot. Streams of crimson oozed and puddled around his nearly lifeless body as Dustin cradled his head. For a second, all Steve could do was watch Eddie gasp for air and breathily tell Dustin he's sorry. He didn't know he was crying until the ringing in his ears dissipated upon hearing a muted cry of “Help him”, and with wobbly legs he brought Eddie out of the upside down. Robin and Nancy were already waiting in the backseat of the car when Steve threw the door open, shoving a dying Eddie into the arms of Nancy on the driver's side and an injured Dustin into the arms of Robin on the passenger side. Eddie was situated with his legs propped up on both Robin and Dustin's thighs and his head was gently placed on Nancy's lap. Steve hadn't waited another second to climb into the driver's seat and step on the gas.

He was probably going well above the speed limit and was almost positive that the seatbelt was jammed into the door, but he could hear Dustin sobbing and desperately pleading to Nancy to save Eddie. If Steve were a little braver, he would have offered some words of encouragement, but he didn't really trust his voice to not tremble. He didn't stop to see the dying trees looming over them and didn't notice the clock standing to the side of the road, but he heard it. He could hear the tell-tale ticking of the old grandfather clock, but all he did was press onto the gas a little harder. What that meant for Max, he didn't know. All that he could do was hope that she, Lucas, and Erica were safe.

“Hey, Robs, do you have our mixtape on hand?” Robin had kind of sputtered for a second before gesturing wildly at a very pale looking Dustin, and an even paler looking Eddie, who had seemed to have stopped bleeding at some point. Steve didn't know if that meant Nancy was able to stop the blood from spilling out of him, or if that meant Eddie had no more blood left to offer. He desperately hoped it was the former.

“Dingus, r-right now isn’t really the fucking time t-to listen to music!”

Upon looking at the rearview mirror, Steve had thought he saw his father glare at him, but he blinked and the vision was gone.

“Yeah, I know but-”

“Eddie’s dying, a-and Dustin's leg is probably broken-”

He didn't know why Robin's voice started to sound more and more like his mothers, but it made his stomach turn and he needed to shut her up fast before he did something stupid, like crash the car.

“Robs, please, I need-”

“And- and we haven't heard from the rest of the party!, and they could be dead too and-”

“Robin, please for the love of god, will you listen to me!?”

“A-and the cops are still probably looking f-for Eddie, so we don't even know if we can sa-”

“ROBIN, I CAN SEE A FUCKING CLOCK IN THE ROAD!”

His grip tightened on the steering wheel.Steve was pretty sure that he had left a dent on the leather of the wheel, but he wasn't quite certain. A tense silence fell upon them, the only sounds heard being the humming of the engine and the ever growing ticks of the clock echoing in the hollows of Steve's ears and mind.

“I-I can see the stupid fucking clock in the road, and I’m not really looking to crash right now so please! Just get out the mixtape Robin and HELP me!”

Steve hadn't needed to turn around to know that Robin, Dustin, and Nancy were crying. He heard it well enough from the front seat.

With shaky hands, Robin had handed him the mix tape she and Steve made together around their first week at Family Video. Steve couldn't remember everything that was put on it, but he knew that a mixture of Bowey, ABBA, Tears for Fears, and Blondie were all muddled together somewhere within the mixtape. He was almost able to smile at the memory of Robin loudly complaining about putting “Girls Just Want To Have Fun” on the mixtape. She couldn't stand the voice of Cyndi Lauper.

Almost.

With a shuddering breath, Steve inserted the mixtape into the cassette slot. The opening notes of “King of Nothing” drowned out the deafening chimes of the old grandfather clock. He could still see the dreadful thing sitting at the side of the road, and he swore he saw a younger version of Tommy H. sitting in the seat next to him, but his anxiety slowly dissipated as the cassette tape continued to blast the opening words of the song Steve so dearly loved and loathed on the car stereo.

‘When I was 17, I

Dreamed of being king and-’

“…Steve….?”

“…”

“Come on, talk to us, Steve! Please don't leave us, I'm begging you. ”

‘Dreams did not unfold so

I'm still the king of nothing’

“...I'm still here…”

Robin had let out an audible breath of relief before hiccuping and reaching across Dustin to grab onto Steve's shoulder. Steve found himself leaning into the grounding touch for a moment before being startled out of his daze by a speed bump. “Oh thank fuck, I-I thought you were… Goddamnit Steve, you can’t do that to me!… I thought… Holy shit, I thought you were gone…” Her voice had tapered out, and Steve had to hold himself back from letting out an audible sob. It had been a wonder that he was still able to keep the car in the right lane throughout all of this shit. Dustin and Nancy didn't say anything, but he could hear the relieved sigh Nancy let out, and the pained cry of relief Dustin had tried to stunt. It was unlike Dustin to be so… quiet. He should have been loudly berating Steve for scaring him like that, so why hadn't he?

‘But that was slumbers fault for

I have no love at all and

I’m still the king of nothing’

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Buckley.”

‘If I could rule I'd dance my cares away

Find romance every day

I wouldn't have to listen to this poor fool say

I'm the king

I'm the king of nothing’

‘If I could rule I'd dance my cares away

Find romance every day

I wouldn't have to listen to this poor fool say

I'm the king

I'm the king of nothing’

—----------------------------------------------------—

(Preview to next chapter)

They made it to the hospital. Steve was pretty sure he broke every traffic law to ever exist, but they fucking made it. He didn’t think twice before shutting off the car and pulling Eddie out of Nancy's hands. Distantly, he was aware of the ticking growing louder and louder in the back of his ears, but he chose not to acknowledge it. He was walking away with Eddie held in his arms before the others could drag him back into the car. He could hear Dustin and Robin screaming at him, but all he could do was hold Eddie a little tighter and keep pushing his legs to work just a little bit longer.

————————————————————————

I will definitely write more of this! This is my first post on here and I actually had two of my friends proof read this do I hope its ok. If yall love this as much as I do I will definitely keep posting it on here! If not ill probs just upload to my Ao3 later :)

Have an amazing day/night! Pls leave suggestions and criticism :)

58 notes · View notes

urdepressedslut · 1 year

Text

All I Know ❝part five❞

☆ Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC/The Winter Soldier x OC

☆ Summary: Problems arise when Bucky over hears the girl mumble something in her sleep. There's something off about her.

☆ Warnings: angst, fluff, anxiety attack

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | 18+

“You're going to kill them because I've taught you to obey, and do nothing but obey.”

Blink

“..I've taught you to obey, and do nothing but obey.”

Blink

“..and do nothing but obey.”

Blink

“...obey.”

Blink

“Do you understand x001?”

Blink

“x001…”

Blink

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

Blink

“OBEY”

_________________________________

Bucky decided that he'd stay awake and gaze out the balcony window, knowing sleep would be hard to come. He feared if he shut his eyes, he'd be sucked into more memories. A part of him craved to know everything of who he used to be, but another wanted nothing of it. He wasn't the man he was from the memories, the ones with the blonde.. Steve.

Getting his memories back wouldn't change the fact that he is only a shell of who he was. There was no getting him back.

Thoughts of Steve realizing that tugged at his heart, his emotions confusing him. He figured Steve was important to him, but it frustrated him that he couldn't fully understand the bond. He was left trying to put together the empty spaces, of which he was tired of.

Shuffling from the girls form near the mattress caught Bucky's attention. Jealous that she accepted sleep so easily, but also fearing what she could possibly be dreaming about.

Focusing on her from his spot near the window, he watched her carefully.

"Soldat?"

A whisper from her lips had Bucky stiffening up, his heart started beating rapidly.

His flesh hand grew clammy, while his vibranium limb tensed up. He felt frozen to his spot, not daring to move a muscle, in fear he'd trigger her. Her eyes were closed he took note of, but she had whispered so clear, it had his ears tingling while his body erupted with goosebumps. His flesh fingertips were almost completely numb, while his chest tightened, his lungs straining to expand.

His mind flooded with chaos..

Was this the plan to get The Asset back? She was a possible handler.. no. She seems harmless.. no she's dangerous and she could take me down with one touch. Does she know the words? Did I walk myself into HYDRA's trap?

Bucky let out a wheeze, exhaling the trapped air in his lungs. His body slumping forward in exhaustion, he could hear his own blood rushing through his veins, his mind racing. Attempting to take a deep breath to soothe the tightness in his chest, his throat constricted, not allowing any air to pass through. His vision blurred, his flesh hand grabbing at chest in desperation. Flinging his metal arm out, he grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter in a death grip, denting the cheap material in the process. Squeezing his eyes shut, he felt weak, letting his body lock in this permanent state of anguish.

Just barely, Bucky felt the tiniest wave of tranquility flow through his mind, easing his grip on the counter. Like a wall had been lifted from his crushed body, his throat cleared. His lungs burning and expanding, finally allowing air in. Leaning back against the cabinets, Bucky let his limbs hand loosely at his sides, his once bent knees fall. How he was able to snap out of an episode like that? He ignored it, accepting the calm without question. The apartment fell back into a comfortable silence, the sound of his slowing heartbeat, along with an occasional cough.

Cracking open his eyes, he immediately checked Mary, hoping that she was still asleep. He felt embarrassed at a possibility of her watching him unravel. Bucky was never that lucky though.

Curious, concerned eyes were watching him cautiously from afar. Bucky met hers, almost as a silent conversation was being had, he nodded his head to her, letting her know he was okay. He wanted to ask how long she'd been awake, but he rather forget it altogether. Shuffling his body so he faced back towards the window, he let his exhausted eyes gaze out the window, focusing on nothing in particular.

Mary meanwhile couldn't find it in herself to fall back asleep, so she stayed awake, watching Bucky. He confused her, she couldn't quite find the reason of her many suspicions, but something continued to tug at her brain at every glance of Bucky she got.

_________________________________

Bucky finally moved from his spot from the floor, not moved since last night. Cracking his stiff neck, he glanced to see if Mary had moved from her spot. Although he wasn't surprised to find her in the same position as he last saw her, he was shocked to see her picking at the floor, wide awake like she never slept.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky stood fully and walked over to the fridge, grabbing another water bottle out for her. Shuffling over he squatted, placing the bottle down in front of her, gaining her full attention now.

Mary stared at the bottle, remembering his words from yesterday. He told her she didn't have to obey, she could make her own decisions. But she liked following, she found it comforting when it was him giving the orders.

Bucky saw the hesitation when she glanced up to him, and he should've known it would take more then one talk to get her out of these habits.

"Drink. It's yours." He told her, trying his best to not have it sound like a demand.

With a nod she twists the cap off, and gulps down a heavy amount.

"Not too fast, you're gonna get sick." Bucky warned, the mother instinct briefly showing itself again. He winced and stood back up, heading to the kitchen area.

She immediately slowed down her drinking, despite her feeling incredibly dehydrated.

"Bucky." She called out, voice staying quiet and soft.

Bucky turned to her, waiting for her to continue.

She had set the bottle down, pointing to the balcony, towards the outside. Bucky was waiting for her to want to explore, knowing it was unfair to keep her in here. He wasn't necessarily worried about her going outside, it was everyone else that he didn't trust. A constant possibility of someone from HYDRA spotting her, even him.

“It’s not safe out there.” He told her truthfully, ashamed to have to live in fear.

The girl frowned and glanced to the window again, hating the way she could see the outside from her spot, wishing she could explore.

Bucky felt bad almost immediately, watching her face drop. Surely, if she was from HYDRA, she’d understand why it wasn’t that easy.

“Sorry, people might spot us.” He clarified.

“You go out, yes?” She asked, making a good point. He was hoping she wasn’t going to pry, but after being isolated for as long as she was, he didn’t blame her for pushing.

“Not without difficulty. I’m very careful.”

She nodded her head, taking in his words.

“I can be careful too.” She whispered, her eyes desperate, full of fear that she’d be kept away from the outside forever.

He was giving in slowly, her saddened eyes making his heart ache. He understood her more than anyone could and he wouldn’t be the one to isolate her anymore then she already has been.

“Okay,” He started, Mary perked up, “I’ll take you outside soon, but it’s dangerous out there. You have to stay close to me, and listen to me when we go, okay?”

Mary nodded her head, he didn’t know it, but she would follow him regardless of him asking. She was very loyal, willing to do just about anything for him. He saved her, and she felt she owed him an impossible debt.

#reader insert #light angst #fluff #buckybarnes #marvel cinematic universe #marvel imagines #the winter soldier #bucky barnes #bucky x oc #bucky barnes x oc #dark themes #hydra experiment #marvel #series #broken characters

52 notes · View notes

hedgiwithapen · 7 months

Note

MAWS prompt: Waller and the General kidnap Clark early in the season, before he's told anyone about his powers. Jimmy has to decide whether to tell Lois Clark's secret, and they have to figure out who could have taken him...

(I'm playing fast and loose with the timeline here. episode 4/5 but Lois never finds the article, Steve never left the weights, etc)

Flip peddled hard, panting. She twisted the gearshift on her handlebar that was slightly too big for her hands. The 21 speed bike was a great investment, just like she'd told her mom. Usually, it was just so she could get her paper route done and still have time for both cartoons AND homework after school. This was a far bigger deal. Without the bike, there'd have been no way she was getting up the hill. At least the way down was fast. she didn't even touch the brakes, screeching a warning as she flew past a stop sign. It was illegal, but this was way too important.

"Lois! Lois!" she shrieked, pulling up to the sidewalk beside a familiar green-coat. One foot bracing her bike, she leaned her head on her handlebars, exhausted. "emergency!"

"Flip, forgetting your book report until last minute is not an emergency," Lois said.

"Not that--how'd you even remember that--wait, no, not the time." Flip gasped for breath. "Superman. they took him!"

"What?" Lois turned fully, eyes wide. Crouching partway, she grabbed the 4th grader's shoulders. "Flip, what did you see? Tell me everything. Who took Superman?"

"Some guy with white hair. He had a sword, two swords, and, and he was doing flips, and there was a helicopter thing. He looked like a spy. or an assassin. A Spyssassin. Superman was fighting them, but they got really close to the freeway, and he was trying stop it from collapsing and people jumped out of the helicopter, and they took him!"

"Oh my god," Lois said. "Wait, Flip, did they see you?"

"No, I was hiding. We gotta find him! Lois, they had guns!"

"Flip, you need to go home. I'll get Clark and Jimmy, we'll figure it out, okay?" Screw that she was just an intern--she was her father's daughter, too. Superman had saved their lives, they'd save him back. Somehow.

"I want to help!"

"You have. Flip, please. Go. Normally. Pretend everything's fine."

"But it's not fine!"

Lois nodded. Impulsively, she hugged the kid. "Stay safe, ok?"

Then she took off running.

Jimmy looked at the pieces of the alarm clock, and signed. This one was not going to be so easily fixed. Usually they broke in about the same way, and being more mechanical than digital, it wasn't that hard to replace a gear, or hammer out a dent. He'd actually gotten pretty good at it, thanks in no small part to Mr. Gotamco at the watch repair place down the street. Honestly, if the whole photojornalist thing didn't work out, maybe that wouldn't be a half bad career. His phone rang.

"It's Jimmy," he said, answering.

"Oh, good," Lois sounded breathless. "Is Clark with you? He's not answering his phone. I'm on my way over right now."

"Why?" Jimmy asked. " It's our day off, isn't it? Did we have a meeting? Did I forget a--"

"No, no. Jimmy, focus. Clark."

"Uh, he went out to get lunch..." Jimmy looked at the clock and realized it was still broken. "Oooh, did he finally ask you out?"

"No! What? Open your door." Jimmy obliged, and Lois slammed past him, red-faced from running. "It's about Superman."

"Yeah?" Jimmy asked, sweeping the clock parts to the side. He was going to have to buy a new one after all. "something I should put on Flamebird?"

"Yes, no, I don't know--where's Clark? We need him. Superman's gone."

"Gone?" Jimmy choked, putting down his phone. "What do you mean, gone?"

"Gone. Flip saw that guy from the city square take him. He could be hurt, or--we owe him, Jimmy. Say you'll help me."

Jimmy froze. Gone. Superman couldn't be...kidnapped... "Lois." He said, suddenly very quiet. "I need you to promise me you won't get mad."

"About what, Jimmy? Now is not the time for--"

"Promise," he said again. "You can't be mad."

"What did you do!?"

"Nothing. I--nothing. I just... know something. Something I'm not supposed to. And I shouldn't tell you but you have to know now so promise you won't be mad."

"Ok, I promise," she said too easily. Jimmy let it slide.

"Clark. He's Superman. I figured it out ages ago. Not that he was Superman, just that he was... you know. Different. but it's his secret and obviously he didn't want us to know but--if he's--"

"Clark?" Lois said, sitting hard on the couch. "Clark's... all this time, he's been...hiding--"

"You promised not to be mad," Jimmy said. "At either of us." She had not but it was implied.

"Oh, I'm mad," Lois said. "I'm mad at that... that..." she couldn't find the insult she wanted. "Asshole who took our best friend!"

Jimmy'd take what he could get. Clark couldn't be mad, either, right? Not if they were saving him.... Secret Identities were important, privacy mattered, but not when it was life or death. Jimmy really, really hoped that it was not life or death.

"What's the plan?" he asked, jamming his shoes on. Lois deflated. "I don't know. Look for clues, Flip said it was by the freeway. We could find something there, maybe?"

"Then let's go." Jimmy wasn't sure how they'd save Clark, after they found him. They had to find him.

It wasn't hard to find the battlesite. There were cracks in the support pillars of the overpass, all of them minor, or already sealed over. patches of grass were charred or flattened. Lois scoured the ground while Jimmy took photos of everything, hoping some clue might stand out.

"I found something," Lois said.

"is it a clue? is it blood?" Jimmy asked, hurrying over and stopping at Lois's outflung arm.

"Bootprints," Lois said. "I've seen prints like these before." Her voice was suddenly very un-Lois-like. Quiet. almost defeated.

"In the tunnel, at the salvage yard?" Jimmy asked, squinting at the tracks. Maybe it was all connected to that tech. If it was, there had to be a way to trace it, they could find something that would lead them to Clark. Or Clark could get away on his own, maybe--he'd won the fight in the square before. Once he was in a place where innocents wouldn't get hurt, he'd have no problem kicking that guy's ass. "Or... the bank robbery?"

"No," Lois said, looking at her phone. The missed call log. Over and over, the declined calls.

"Where, then?" Jimmy asked, staring at her, his camera lowered. "Lois?"

"My shoe rack, back home. Standard issue. US Military. I...I have to call someone."

Her thumb hovered over the contact for 'dad' before pressing down with enough force to almost crack the screen.

It rang, and rang, and went to voicemail.

#dammit hedgi day 2023 #My adventures with superman #Lois lane #jimmy olsen #Flip Johnson

10 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs