#Muses: Au Steve

[cloudybrews]

Steve was confused. He had no idea what year it was. Already got the last of the stone home.. and now ... He wanted to go back. He wanted to retire but be with his friends. Yet here was standing with most confused expression " Exuse me" he walked towards the reader. "Where... and what Time is is"

[megarhyssa-sp]

from this:

@iowntheworldandyou you are so right. he was probably keeping it in his pocket. these two should not be parents 😂

[ramp-it-up]

Muse: Six

Muse: Five | Muse Masterlist | Muse Seven

Peach Masterlist | Knock You Down Masterlist

Summary: You tell Ari your dream. Bucky shows up in this one and Frumoasă spills his little secret to you. Oh. And Ari gets that clarity. Many times over.

Pairing: Art Curator! Ari Levinson x Plus sized model! Reader; Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Peach; Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Bucky Barnes x Frumoasa

Word count: 5.9 K

A/N: Muse has been a series of one shots featuring Muse and Ari, and this the sixth one. We’re nearing the end of the run and I don’t want to quit them! 🥹 Big thanks to @princessphilly who basically inspired the premise and has endured me being unhinged in her inbox. In this one, we have Bucky and Frumoasa and Bucky has a confession to make! This AU is tangential to the Peach and Knock You Down verses. I love reblogs, replies, asks and likes. Let me have it! :)

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. Art Curator Ari. Plus sized model Reader, Muse opens up, supermodel slay, Steve + Peach and Bucky + Frumoasă (they are a warning). Dancing, Muse is a model, y’all. Posessive Ari, Soft Dom Ari, references to spanking and other punishments, praise kink, nipple play, oral (m/f receiving), SIZE KINK, raw p in v, claiming/breeding kink, cum play, fucking, making love, multiple orgasms. A lot of plot, and then some porn.

I don’t have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post!

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

-----

You planned the next date but kept the details to yourself.

“Trust me,” you said.

Ari raised a brow, skeptical, but let you take the lead. And that’s how you ended up hand-in-hand on a crisp Saturday morning, stepping into a hidden bookstore on the Lower East Side that smelled like old paper and good coffee.

He held the door open, brushing the small of your back. He paused just inside, eyeing the space. Then he turned to you, smiling like you’d just opened a secret door to your soul.

Sunlight poured in through tall windows, dust swirling in golden sheets over the creaky hardwood. Shelves climbed toward the ceiling, packed with novels, art books, and poetry.

A handwritten sign read: Please touch. Books are meant to be loved.

You smiled to yourself. 

“God, I love this place.”

Ari followed you in with a small grin. 

“I can see why. It’s very… you.”

“What? Messy and full of opinions?”

Ari laughed, “Exactly.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and peeled away, magnetized by the curated tables and tall wooden stacks of fiction, magazines, and photography.

Your whole energy had shifted.

You were lighter. Freer. 

Ari was seeing the girl who used to get lost in books and forget to come back.

He drifted toward the architecture section, then a glass case of rare prints. One stopped him. It had a matte black cover, thick paper, and a silver signature from that visual poet you once obsessed over. 

Once. In passing.

You were leaned against a shelf, flipping through a magazine called Soft Chaos, lit by sunlight like stained glass. He watched you and felt something warm and a lot like love press against his ribs.

Ari looked back at the book. He didn’t say anything. But he didn’t put it back either.

Eventually, he gathered a few books and made his way to you. You looked up, smiled, and tugged him to the back of the store, to worn leather chairs and a tiny bar serving espresso in handmade mugs.

You handed him one without a word, then curled up cross-legged across from him. You let him drink his coffee before you said anything. Then, when he glanced up at you from his pile, you took a breath and said the words that opened yourself to him.

“I used to dream about doing something like this. My own magazine.”

His eyes lit up. 

“What kind?”

“Culture. Fashion. Real art. Big interviews. No ads for anything fake.”

You grinned, almost shy.

“Something that means something.”

You paused, then laughed softly, embarrassed. 

“Anyway. Just a pipe dream.”

He leaned back in the chair, crossing his ankle over his knee and rubbing his beard, thinking.

“Why is it only a pipe dream?”

You shrugged, flipping the pages of the magazine. 

“Because I’m a model, not an editor. I’m supposed to be on the cover, not the one writing the captions.”

Ari made a quiet sound of disagreement and reached for another copy of the magazine you held, flipping through it absently. 

“You don’t think you could do both?”

You glanced at him. He wasn’t teasing. He was just there. Listening.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. 

“It feels too big. Like, what if I try and it’s nothing? What if I’m not enough?”

He set the magazine aside, reached across and pulled your chair toward him, knees brushing. The power in that gesture was very hot.

“Muse. Look at me.”

Those steel blues were holding you accountable.

“You lit up the second you walked in here. You love this. It’s in your bones. You’re already halfway there, hell, more. You are the audience. You know what this world needs. What you need.”

“But–”

He took your hand.

“You are more than enough. And if you really want this?”

He smiled, certain of you. 

“The world better brace itself. You’d change the fucking game.”

Your chest tightened. You smiled. Who knew that his reaction would make you so happy? You loved this man.

“You think?”

“I don’t think,” he said, leaning forward. “I know.”

“You’re kind of dangerous, you know.”

He smirked. 

“Only in very specific, highly curated situations.”

You laughed at him and leaned forward to softly kiss him on the lips.

“Thanks, Levinson.”

“No problem, Muse.”

You curled your legs across his lap, flipping pages again. He sipped his coffee, hand resting on your shin, thumb trailing slow arcs on your skin.

The moment was perfect.

Two lattes and half a chocolate croissant later, you were showing him old punk and queer magazines from a curated shelf, full of grainy photos and counterculture elegance. 

Ari was all in, asking questions, but watching you more than the pages.

“I could help,” he said casually, after you sketched out your vision for the first issue: Black female artists under 30, subversive fashion, and a photo essay of unsent love letters.

You blinked,“Help how?”

“I know a guy in London who prints indie art books. And my cousin’s ex does layout for Paper, I could make a call.”

You blinked as he sipped his coffee. 

“If you want. No pressure.”

You just stared at him.

“You’re serious?”

Ari nodded. “Dead serious.”

His eyes didn’t leave yours.

“As your man, I’d back you in a heartbeat. All in. Spirit, cash, connections. Whatever you need.”

Your breath caught. Your man.

“You don’t even know the name.”

He leaned back, one brow lifted.  

“I do, actually.”

You squinted. “What?”

“The only name it could be.

Muse Magazine.”

You tried not to smile. And failed.

“But…”

“And I know you only want to do print, but I bought the domain muse.com last month. After our third… night.”

Your breath caught. “You what?”

“I knew it was for a reason.”

You just stared at him. For once, no clever comeback. Just a slow, exquisite ache opening in your chest.

You leaned forward. He met you halfway.

The kiss started gentle, then it deepened. Your hands found his collar. His fingers slid along your jaw. But Ari pulled back first, his breathing steady, but his eyes were dark.

“If I kiss you the way I want to,” he said, voice rough, “we’ll be banned from this bookstore.”

You smirked, lips brushing his ear.

“Then let’s go home.”

Ari froze. That word, home. It hit him like a thunderbolt. He knew what you meant. Either place. But together.

His jaw tightened and a slow, dangerous smile curved at the corners of his mouth, but he didn’t kiss you again. Not yet.

Outside, dusk was taking over the skyline. You could see your reflections in the glass, him, leaning in; you, lit up.

—-

Ari was sitting on the edge of his couch, taking notes on his phone, inspired by you, as always, but particularly the conversation at the bookstore. 

Before going out that morning, you’d showed up at his place with a bag. When you told him there would be wardrobe changes involved, he'd just laughed, because of course there would be.

He was dreaming about the future while half-listening to the sultry bassline playing over his speakers. He wore a black button-up, the sleeves stretched taut across his biceps and the top few buttons undone to reveal a teasing flash of chest and the glint of a gold chain. His trousers were dark charcoal, and cut perfectly to hug his thighs and adhere to the fashion of the moment. Even the expensive yet tasteful gleam of his watch matched the rest of him.

You told him to dress for an active night out on the town. He didn’t know exactly what to expect, but he always went with the flow of you.

The moment you stepped out of his bathroom and his eyes lifted, everything stopped.

There you were, in a backless, body-hugging LaQuan Smith number that shimmered midnight blue under the light. The fabric clung to every curve on your body, low neckline in front, no bra, and all drama in the back, balanced by a hip-slit that flashed toned thigh with every step. 

You paired it with towering gold stilettos. No jewelry. Just red nails, red lip, and a determination to show out that night.

Ari swallowed hard. “Jesus.”

His eyes raked over you like he was trying to memorize you before he even moved. Two strides and he was towering over you, one hand curling around your waist, fingers splayed wide and possessively against you.

“You changed,” he murmured, eyes locked on yours. “You were in jeans this morning.”

“Mmhmm.” You tapped your finger against your lips, pretending to think. “Were those not doing it for you?”

“Don’t play with me, Muse,” he warned, his gaze flicking briefly to the curve of your breasts before snapping back to your eyes. 

“You know exactly what this is doing to me.”

You slid a hand along the line of his shirt, fingers brushing the warm skin beneath. 

“I wanted to see your face when I wore this. Worth it?”

He huffed a rough laugh, but there was no humor, just need. 

“I’m trying real hard not to bend you over the kitchen counter right now.”

You thrilled at the growl in his throat and the heat in his eyes.

It had been too long. 

You rose onto your toes, shorter even in the impossible heels, and pressed your lips to his ear to whisper, “Maybe I wore it hoping you would.”

His grip on your waist tightened.

“That’s it.”

He backed you up, hips pressing yours into the nearest surface. His mouth found your neck.

“We’re gonna be late to SOB’s,” he rasped, but he didn’t stop. 

You grinned mischievously as he marked you up like he wanted the whole damn city to know. Maybe he did. And maybe you wanted him to.

“Would you rather stay in?” you teased.

His lips ghosted over your collarbone to your shoulder murmuring things that made your knees threaten to give out.

“This outfit’s a problem, baby. You know that, right?”

Your nipples, already pebbled, pressed against his chest through rich fabric. 

“Ari…”

“Everyone at SOB’s is gonna break their damn neck staring at you.” His mouth was hot against your skin. “And I’ll let them. Just so they know who you’re coming home with.”

“So is the vow of celibacy over?”

Ari raised his eyebrow at you and then replied.

“Baby, I’ll get on my knees right now and make all kinds of vows.” 

He licked his lips and took you in his arms.

“I’d kiss you, but it would ruin your lipstick. I’ll leave that for later. Maybe you can leave it around my cock.”

You managed to shove him off with a laugh because God, you really did want to dance. Peach’s Couples Salsa Night was calling.

You stepped to the mirror in the entryway to re-tame your hair. Ari came up behind you, hands locking onto your hips and dragging you back against the thick ridge of his erection. You gasped like a school girl.

You wanted it so bad.

“You ready to drive me insane in public now?”

You smirked at him in the mirror, watching the fire in his eyes.

“You started it.”

—-

Peach’s monthly Salsa night was a Thing. 

A capital T, heels on, couples sweating, bodies close kind of Thing. When she DM’d you the flyer, you lit up, because you liked her so damn much and this looked like a good time.

And because you were dying to see Ari Levinson squirm.

The bass of a Sonora Carruseles track rolled through the space, making your hips sway with a sinful rhythm. 

You were a sight to behold.

Ari hadn’t let go of your hand since you walked in.

“You nervous?” he asked, eyes on your face.

“You’re asking me that?” you shot back, teasing. “You’re the one who likes to hit on Mob wives.”

Ari rolled his eyes and groaned.

“I knew Peach told you. You been saving that all week?”

You grinned. 

“Don’t worry, baby. I get it. She’s hot. You’re a bonehead. But remember, you're my bonehead now.”

His brain straight-up glitched. Your possessiveness got him harder than a rock.

The flash of hunger in his eyes made you clench, hard. You elbowed him to shake the lust fog, but Ari was quick, snaking a hand around your waist and dragging you flush to his chest.

You already knew how tonight would end.

Peach was in her element, shouting instructions over the music and twirling across the floor into Steve’s waiting arms. He wasn’t a bad dancer, clearly in tune with his partner. The man actually smiled. He was definitely in love and they looked damn good together, strength and chaos moving in time.

Nearby, her cousin swayed slowly with Bucky Barnes, a baby bump between them. She glowed. Literally. And Bucky was under her spell, although he looked like he was about to faint every time she spun on those high heels she was wearing.

You leaned into Ari’s chest, letting him hold you as you watched the couples blur into the movement of the night.

“Peach’s playlist is filthy tonight,” you murmured into his neck and slipped your arms around it, grinning.

“Mmm,” Ari hummed, dipping his head to yours. 

“So are you. This dress should be illegal.”

You brushed a kiss against his jaw. 

“Guess you’ll have to arrest me. Got any handcuffs?”

His hand tightened on your hips, and the groan he let out had your knees weak.

“I can get some. Then I'll cuff you to my bed and…”

He couldn’t finish before the music cut because someone bumped the speaker. You just grinned at each other like love drunk idiots instead of voicing what you were both thinking.

Ari went off to find drinks, and you found yourself deep in conversation with the radiant, pregnant Mrs. Barnes. She was mid-sentence about Harlem Renaissance art when she suddenly stopped, eyes gleaming like she knew something.

“I like you,” she said. “But before we start going on triple dates, I need to tell you something.”

Your stomach dipped. 

“Tell me what?”

“Bucky once said you were his hall pass.”

Your jaw dropped. 

“I….what?!”

“Oh yeah,” she nodded, wicked grin on her lips. 

“We were in a bookstore. Saw you on a magazine cover. I was drooling over how beautiful you were and Bucky just… spilled.”

You wheezed.

“He told me he tried to get your number once through one of your model friends and she blocked him because she was jealous.”

You were covering your mouth now, eyes tearing up from laughter. 

“He said, and I quote, ‘I would’ve folded like a lawn chair.’”

You collapsed into giggles, leaning against Ari who had just returned, drink in hand and scowl already forming.

“What did he say?” Ari growled.

She held up a hand.

“Relax, caveman. It was years ago. And I made it very clear that if he ever tried it, I’d have his balls on the mantle.”

You howled. She smirked, then leaned in.

“Real talk? You’d be my hall pass too.”

You blinked, stunned.

She nodded, smug as hell.

“I’m married, pregnant, and still know fine when I see it.”

Ari groaned like he’d been personally victimized.

“I’m right here.”

Frumoasa waved him off. 

“Don’t be greedy, mountain man. You already won.”

Just then, Bucky wandered over, cheeks pink but eyes locked on his wife like she was the last star in the sky. His hand automatically came to rest on her lower back and he leaned in to kiss the top of her head without saying a word.

“Speak of the devil,” she sing-songed.

Bucky glanced at his wife who grinned, and then you, smiled sheepishly, and shrugged. 

“She tell you?”

You grinned. 

“Every detail.”

He chuckled, brushing a hand down his face. “Damn.”

Bucky’s wife beamed at him. Ari glowered, but didn’t say a word. 

Good boy, you thought.

“Don’t worry, babe. I made it clear that if you ever tried anything, you’d be sleeping in Prospect Park.”

Bucky looked at his wife, completely unbothered, maybe a little embarrassed, but mostly just in love. He bent to murmur something in her ear, and she lit up instantly, laughter ringing like wind chimes.

The music started again and Peach got on the mic with dance instructions and you and Ari began to laugh as you stepped on each other’s feet. It was such a good time. 

At one point, Peach yelled, “Switch partners!” and Ari growled low in protest until you laughed and let go. You ended up with Bucky, who was blushing. 

“You okay?” you asked, tilting your head.

“I’m good.” He looked at you seriously.

“Listen, that was before I met her. I was a bit of a player. But I really do love my wife.”

He was gazing at her and you followed his lead. From across the floor, she gave you a slow wink and then patted her belly smugly. You snorted, unable to help the grin that overtook your face.

“She’s a menace. I like her.”

“As you should. I sure do,” Bucky said, the affection in his voice unmistakable. 

“She’s a lucky lady.”

Bucky smiled down at you and spun you gracefully.

“No. I’m the lucky one. She made me a better man.”

When the song ended, Ari beelined straight for you, clearly having zero interest in switching again.

“Mine,” he muttered, pulling you back into his arms.

You laughed but didn’t argue.

Then Peach got back on the mic. 

“Okay lovers, we’re dialing it down. Grab your person. This next one’s about the most important part of a relationship.”

And then,Jazmine Sullivan’s BPW started playing.

You snorted. Peach was too much.

“She’s not wrong,” Ari murmured, mouth to your ear. “And you do have the best pussy in the world.”

His hand slid to the small of your back. Your fingers laced with his. Your bodies fell into a rhythm, completely in sync. 

“Oh? You remember it?”

He pulled you closer, his lips grazing your temple, ignoring your sarcasm entirely.

“Jesus, you feel so good in my arms.”

“You keep saying shit like that, Levinson, and I might start believing you.”

He stilled for half a second. His hand tightened at your waist.

“Believe it,” he murmured. “Every fucking word.”

Then Ari leaned in again, this time giving you a kiss that left no room for doubt. You melted against him, arms looped around his neck, hips swaying to the slow, delicious rhythm of the music and him. 

You cupped his face in both hands, pulling his tongue into your mouth like you needed it. And when you finally broke apart, there were eyes on you, but neither of you cared.

“You’re killing me,” he murmured, lips grazing your cheekbone. 

“Wearing this dress. Kissing me like that.”

You tilted your head, teasing.

“Like what?”

He exhaled a sound that was half-laugh, half-growl, then dropped his forehead to yours. 

“Like you know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Like I wanna suck your cock?”

You both spoke at the same time.

Your comment earned you a sharp look, one you felt all the way between your thighs.

The song kept rolling, Jazmine's voice curling around the room like velvet smoke. Ari swayed with you, the press of your soft belly against his hard on almost unbearable, but he held on. Barely. 

He was hanging by a thread, and so were you.

You leaned in close, your voice barely above a breath, “Do you want to go?”

He looked down at you, his gaze unreadable but intense. “Do you?”

Your nails skimmed the back of his neck. “Yes. Please.”

That was all it took.

He laced his fingers through yours and led you out, murmuring quiet goodbyes. Peach smirked knowingly. Mrs. Barnes winked.

But your focus was on Ari, and Ari alone.

—--

Outside, the air was cooler, but your skin was on fire.

Ari hailed a cab, and the second the door clicked shut behind you, it was done. You were on his lap in a heartbeat, his mouth crashing into yours like he needed you to breathe. His hands were everywhere, skimming your thighs, gripping your waist, carding in your hair like he couldn’t get close enough.

“Fuck, Muse,” he groaned between kisses. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

You kissed him harder, hungrier.

“Did you get the clarity you were looking for, Ari?”

He leaned back just enough to meet your gaze, right as your hips rolled down on him. His breath hitched.

“Oh, everything’s crystal,” he said, voice thick. “You’re mine.”

His hands clutched you tighter, almost possessive.

“And it’s not just about Barnes lusting after you. I know people want you. Thousands, millions, would sell their souls for just one night with you.”

“I only want you, Ari,” you whispered. “I love you.”

He nodded.

“Exactly. I love you. You love me. That’s it. No one else touches what’s mine. I’ve wasted enough time, now let me show you what that love looks like. If you’ll let me.”

You grinned. “Oh, I’ve been ready.”

His tongue flicked against your earlobe before his teeth closed around it, making you squirm in his lap. Then came the velvet-rough filth, hot and low against your ear.

“Bet your pussy’s soaked. Bet you want me to eat you like an animal and make you cum so hard you forget your name.”

You nodded, helpless and aching.

“Such a fucking cocktease,” he growled. “Need to spank that ass until you’re hot, dripping, and begging.”

Oh. You thought about that. Hard.

Ari cradled your face in one hand and kissed you, deep and wet, tongue fucking your mouth as his hands moved you against the thick length straining beneath his zipper.

“Tonight, you’re mine. You’re gonna do exactly what I say. Give me everything. You know you need it.”

“I do need it,” you breathed. “I want you to fuck me raw.”

Ari broke the kiss slowly, eyes dark and wide, blown with hunger. His jaw clenched like he was barely holding himself back. Then he moved. One arm under your knees, the other around your back, lifting you like nothing as the cab came to a stop.

He kissed you in the elevator.

Down the hall.

All the way to his bedroom.

When he kicked the door shut behind you, he set you down beside the bed and pulled the chair close, sitting with his knees spread, leaning forward like a man ready to devour.

You stood frozen, mind blank with need. You were soaked.

“Run that back for me, Muse,” he said, voice low and smug.

“What did you say in the taxi?”

“I…” 

You couldn’t find the words, not when his hand was trailing up your thigh.

He grinned like the devil. 

“My sweet, lust-drunk Muse. So easily distracted.”

His eyes burned into yours. 

“What do you want me to do?”

You wanted to rile him, provoke him the way he always did you.

“I want you to fuck me raw. We’re in a relationship now. And neither of us has been with anyone else since we started hooking up, right?”

His gaze sharpened. “Right.”

“And I have that other method of birth control that I told you about.”

You pointed at his lap. 

“So I want to feel every thick, beautiful ridge of that cock you’ve got locked up in there. Stretch me out so good, Ari. Gonna hurt a little, but I’m so wet…”

He interrupted you.

“Take off your dress.”

You unzipped it and let it fall. You were in black lace panties. No bra. Your nipples, tight and aching begged for his touch.

Ari groaned like he was in pain. 

“It’s a fucking crime for you to wear clothes.”

You stepped between his legs, lips curled in a smile.

“I thought the dress was the crime. Which is it?”

His eyes narrowed. 

“Keep bratting and I’ll take that as consent for a spanking.”

You bit your lip, fighting a grin.

“Can I touch you?” you asked sweetly.

You knew why he was grumpy, his cock looked huge and painfully trapped.

“Stop trying to take control,” he warned. “Or I’ll shut that mouth with something better.”

“Oh no,” you murmured, mock-innocent. “Punish me.”

He gave you a dark look.

“Play with those sweet nipples,” he ordered. “They’ve been teasing me since day one. Begging to be sucked until they’re swollen and juicy.”

You obeyed, rolling them between your fingers, gasping when your pussy clenched hard around nothing.

“Fuck, baby,” Ari rasped. “You’re unreal.”

He watched for a beat, then said, “Feed them to me.”

Your pulse jumped. You leaned in, offering him your breast. He held your gaze as he licked slowly under your nipple, then pulled it between his teeth.

You moaned. Loudly.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmured around your flesh. “You love being worshipped, don’t you, Muse?”

He sucked hard, and the pleasure echoed down to your clit. When he pulled back with a wet pop, his eyes were heavy lidded and his lips were wet and glistening.

He looked up at you like chaos incarnate.

“Those panties still dry?”

You were already sliding them down before he finished the sentence. You’d waxed recently. He hadn’t seen your pussy in weeks. Ari stared like he was witnessing a miracle. 

“Jesus Christ. How can anyone be so fucking perfect?”

He reached for you but stopped himself. 

“Touch yourself. I want to watch. Show me how you got off without me.”

He guided your hand between your legs. You slipped two fingers through your slick folds, moaning, shuddering. Then he grabbed your wrist and sucked your fingers into his mouth with his eyes closed. 

When he looked at you again, you nearly came. You dropped to your knees without being asked.

“Let me suck your cock, Ari. Please.”

“Oh? Are you begging?” 

His voice cracked with restraint.

You nodded, wide-eyed. He sat down and let you have him.

You unfastened his pants and took him out. Your breasts brushed his thighs, and your mouth kissed along the base of his cock, then slowly, sinfully, your lips wrapped around the head.

His breath left him in a moan.

“Oh, fuck.”

“You good?” you murmured around him.

“Fucking perfect. Keep going.”

You took him deeper, letting your lips drag over every thick inch of him. Your lips were stretched thin around his girth and he gripped your hair, anchoring himself, watching you wreck him.

“Take more of me.”

Your pussy pulsed as you obeyed. He pushed your head down, hips barely moving, letting your tongue swirl around him as you swallowed.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” he warned, voice rough.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and take it all?”

You didn’t answer. You just took him deeper.

His whole body jerked as he spilled into your mouth, moaning your name. There was so much after so long. You swallowed what you could and what overflowed trickled down your chin.

Ari dragged you up and kissed your filthy mouth.

“Thank you for that,” he whispered. “Now I can eat you out properly.”

He jerked his head toward his king size.

“Bed. Now.”

You crawled backward, legs shaking. He stroked himself back to full hardness as you got into position.

“Touch yourself,” he commanded. “Let me see my fucking meal.”

You dipped two fingers in your pussy, then dragged them up to your clit. 

“I only get this wet for you, Ari.”

You traced slow circles over your slick bundle of nerves, already panting.

“Say it,” he growled.

“This pussy is yours.”

Ari climbed onto the bed, crouching between your legs.

“You’re dangerous, Muse,” he whispered, kissing your stomach. “And so fucking beautiful it’s killing me.”

Ari dove in. His mouth licked into you like he was starved and his tongue was everywhere and his fingers pushed into you, opening you up carefully.

“So tight, baby,” he murmured. “Gotta stretch you out for my cock.”

You locked eyes with him as his mouth sealed around your clit, sucking hard, fingers curling deep inside you.

Your hips bucked. You cried out. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer.

He didn’t stop. And he didn’t let you come down. He worked you open until you were chanting his name.

“Mine,” he said again, between licks.

You were already climbing again when his thumb joined his tongue. That was all it took. You shattered with a gasp, legs trembling, pussy clenching hard around his fingers.

And he didn’t stop.

Your vision blurred. Your breath came in broken gasps as your orgasm hit again and again, his tongue and thumb coaxing every tremor from your body like he owned it. 

Because right now, he did.

You were still twitching when he finally pulled back, lips wet, beard slick with your release. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked up at you like a man starved for more.

“I could die between your legs,” he said hoarsely. “But I’ve got other plans tonight.”

You barely had time to recover before he rose up over you, his body heat covering yours. His heavy cock dragged through your slick folds, and you both moaned at the contact.

“Look at me,” he commanded softly.

You did.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he said. “No condom. Nothing between us. You sure, Muse?”

You nodded, breathless. 

“Yes. I want to feel everything.”

His gaze searched yours like he needed to be absolutely certain. 

Then his voice dropped, “Then spread your legs for me. I want to see how deep I can go.”

You obeyed, opening for him, baring everything. Ari gripped his cock and lined it up, the broad head teasing your entrance. He pressed in slowly, inch by thick inch, and you cried out, head falling back against the pillows.

“Oh my god. Ari…”

You were struggling to take him, but your slick made him slide.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re so tight, so warm, so fucking wet.”

He eased in further, stretching you to the edge of pain, but your body welcomed him, slick and ready. When he bottomed out, hips flush with yours, he paused, trembling with restraint.

“Say it,” he gritted out. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped. “Only yours.”

He stayed there, buried deep, his chest pressed to yours, both of you shaking. Then he kissed you filthily and moved.

The first thrust was deep and controlled. The second made your toes curl. By the third, he was fucking you like he’d been waiting years.

Your nails dug into his back. He didn’t care. He wanted the marks.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he groaned into your neck. 

“Taking me so deep, baby. You love this cock, don’t you?”

“Yes…yes…so much…don’t stop…”

He was relentless. His pelvis slapped yours, his hips snapping harder, faster. Every stroke dragged a cry from you. His hand came up to your throat, just holding you. 

Showing you who you belonged to.

“Look at you,” he murmured, watching your face twist with pleasure.

“All fucked out already?”

You shook your head. Barely.

“I want more,” you breathed. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

His teeth grazed your jaw, then your shoulder. 

“You want me to come inside you, don’t you, Muse? Fill you up. Mark you with my cum. Claim you?”

“Yes, Ari, please, I want it…”

Your next orgasm hit so hard you sobbed. Your legs locked around his waist, back arching off the bed as your cunt milked his cock like it never wanted to let him go.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck, Muse…”

Ari growled as he thrust once, twice more, and spilled into you hotly. He held you still, buried to the hilt, pulsing with every wave of his orgasm. He stayed like that, trembling, forehead against yours, both of you panting like you’d just survived the end of the world.

After a long beat, he kissed you softly. Then he pulled out slowly, groaning as your pussy clenched around him one last time. His cum dripped from between your thighs, warm and messy.

He watched it, fascinated, tracing your swollen, messy pussy lips with his fingers

“Look at you,” he whispered reverently. “So fucking full. That’s mine.”

You couldn’t even speak. But you didn’t have to. He gathered you into his arms, kissed your temple, your shoulder, the side of your breast.

You drifted, boneless, wrapped in Ari’s arms. His skin was still damp with sweat, the weight of his body comforting against yours. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Just held you while your heartbeats slowly found the same rhythm.

“I missed you,” he murmured eventually, voice low and rough with emotion. 

“Not just this. You. Everything.”

You curled into him, letting your fingers trace the edge of his jaw, the slope of his collarbone. 

“I know. I missed you too.”

He tilted your chin up to look at him, his eyes softer now. No hunger. Just devotion.

“We’re just getting started,” he murmured. “I’m not done proving it yet.”

“I want to go slow this time,” he said. “I want to make love to you.”

You blinked. Your heart rate increased.

“You already did.”

He gave you a crooked smile. 

“Not like that. That was… claiming you. Letting everything out. This will be me showing you I’m not going anywhere.”

He leaned in and kissed you sweetly. It melted you. You nodded.

“I want to feel all of you again,” you whispered.

Ari rolled you onto your back with a gentle touch, like you were made of glass. He kissed every part of you he could reach, your forehead, cheeks, shoulders, the insides of your wrists like he was memorizing you all over again.

When he slid into you, it was slow, so achingly careful you almost cried. He didn’t thrust. He just pressed in, inch by inch, eyes locked on yours like he was watching the exact moment your soul wrapped around his.

You were stunned. He filled you so completely it felt like coming home. You were sore but the pleasure was so sweet. Ari’s hands gripped yours and pinned them above your head.

“This is what love looks like,” he whispered. “You. Me. This.”

He moved inside you with a rhythm that wasn’t fast or frantic, but deeply connected. His hips rocked into yours slowly, the tenderness building and building.

Every time he sank into you, your breath hitched. Every time he pulled back, your body ached for him. He kissed your eyelids. Your temple. The corner of your mouth.

“I’ve never loved anyone like this,” he said.

You could feel it in the way he held you, the way he moved with you. Like this was sacred. Tears welled in your eyes and he saw them.

“Oh, Baby,” he murmured. “You okay?”

You nodded, breath shaky. 

“I just… I’ve never felt anything like this. It’s so much.”

He kissed the tears away, never stopping the slow, tender thrusts that were unraveling you all over again.

“I’ve got you,” he promised. “I’ll always have you.”

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you.

“I want to come with you,” you whispered.

He pressed his forehead to yours. “Then let go for me, Muse.”

His hand slipped between you, stroking your clit in soft, perfect circles, and the pleasure spiraled until you shattered beneath him, quietly this time, a whisper of his name on your lips as your whole body clenched around him, pulsing with release.

Ari groaned and followed you over that edge seconds later, spilling inside you again as he buried his face in your neck and held on.

This time, neither of you moved after. Not for a long while. Your fingers traced shapes on his back, and his hand stayed tangled in your hair.

No words. No need.

Just love.

And the quiet that follows when two people are exactly where they’re meant to be.

——-

Omghsh. 🥹

Muse: Seven

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

something something rockstar!eddie munson au album photoshoot with steve on the cover

[golden-ariess]

To The Moon & Back

Pairing: Stalker!Artist Steve

Warnings: Stalking, Manipulation 18+

His Muse Masterlist

| A/N: Surprise, surprise. I had inspiration for the first time in nearly two years. I hope y'all enjoy this ✨

-

You read the message again, each word feeling like it was scraping against your skin. How could the person you once loved so deeply become the one you feared most? It didn’t seem possible. You had thought, once, that your love was invincible, that it could weather anything. But Steve’s darkness was something you never anticipated, something that grew in the shadows of his mind until it took over everything else.

You folded the note in half, then again, and tucked it into the side pocket of your bag. You told yourself you’d throw it away later, but a part of you knew you wouldn’t. Even now, when you felt nothing but dread at the thought of him, the memory of who he used to be still clung to you, haunting like a ghost you couldn’t shake.

It wasn’t just the notes, or the roses, or even the sketches—each one more haunting than the last. It was the feeling that he was always there, watching from the distance, just out of sight. You’d feel the prickling of eyes on your back as you walked through the parking lot at night, or the faint rustling of leaves outside your window when you knew no one should be there.

But the worst were the dreams. Dreams where his face would change, morphing into something unrecognizable—twisted, desperate. He’d reach for you, and you’d wake up gasping, sheets tangled around your legs as you fought to break free from the memory.

Once, you had believed in soulmates. Now, you were just trying to find a way to break the ties that bound you to him.

The police had told you that there wasn’t enough evidence to issue a restraining order. The flowers, the notes—none of it was explicitly threatening. “He’s just trying to get your attention,” they’d said. But they didn’t understand the fear that twisted inside you, the sense that each day brought him closer to crossing a line you couldn’t come back from.

You forced yourself to stand, trying to shake the unease that had settled deep in your bones. You had a life to live, a life that no longer included him. The sun was setting, casting long shadows over your apartment, and you decided it was time to draw the curtains, close the door, and block out the past.

But as you pulled the blinds shut, you caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye—just a flash, a movement on the sidewalk. Your breath hitched, your hands froze on the fabric. You peered through the slats, your heart hammering. Was it him, watching again? Or was it just your imagination, playing tricks on you?

You told yourself to let it go. You shut the blinds tight, locked the door, and turned on every light in the apartment. But even then, the shadows seemed to press in, whispering that he was still out there, waiting.

And somewhere deep inside, you knew that the storm wasn’t over yet.

Night settled in, and the apartment felt smaller, the walls closing in as you paced from room to room, checking the locks and glancing at the windows for any sign of movement. You told yourself it was just nerves. It had to be. You couldn’t let him control your life like this, not when you’d fought so hard to get away.

You had left everything behind changed your number, moved to a new city, even deleted your social media accounts. You told yourself that a fresh start was all you needed. But Steve was a shadow that clung to you, no matter how far you ran.

Your phone buzzed on the counter, and you jumped, your heart leaping to your throat. You grabbed it, hands shaking. It was only a text from Rachel, your best friend and the one person who had stood by you when everything with Steve fell apart. She’d always been the voice of reason, the one to remind you of who you were before him.

"Hey, how’s everything? You good?"

You wanted to lie, to say that everything was fine and you were settling in perfectly. But Rachel knew you too well.

"Just another night, I guess. I thought I saw him again. I’m probably overreacting."

She replied almost instantly.

"You know you’re not. He’s dangerous, and he’s obsessed. Just stay safe, okay?"

You typed out a quick response, feeling the familiar ache of longing for a time when things were simple, when you didn’t have to think about locking your doors or feeling your stomach twist every time your phone buzzed. Rachel was right; you couldn’t let your guard down. But the weight of it all felt heavier than ever.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the silence of the room. You tried to distract yourself, turning on the TV, scrolling through channels until you settled on an old sitcom—one you’d watched a million times before, back when laughter came easy and life felt normal. The familiar characters played out their scripted lives, oblivious to the messiness of the real world.

You lost yourself in it for a while, the laughter and the bright colors a brief reprieve. But when you reached for your glass of water, you noticed your hands were still shaking. The fear sat there, right under your skin, and no amount of sitcoms or bright lights could chase it away.

Then, there was a noise. It was soft—just a slight scraping sound, barely audible over the TV. You paused, holding your breath, the room suddenly too quiet. There it was again, like metal against metal. You strained to listen, every nerve in your body on edge.

It was coming from the door.

You felt the cold rush of fear, your body going rigid. You knew better than to ignore it. Slowly, you crept toward the door, your footsteps silent on the carpet. The peephole felt too small, like it couldn’t possibly show you the truth of what lay beyond. You hesitated, hand hovering just above the doorknob.

The scraping stopped.

And then, there was a knock.

Three slow, deliberate taps. Each one sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Your mind raced, a thousand thoughts crashing together. Was it him? Could he really have found you?

“Hello?” you called out, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would invite something in. No answer. Just silence, heavy and pressing.

You pressed your eye to the peephole, holding your breath. At first, you saw nothing but darkness—just the dim glow of the hallway light. Then, slowly, a figure came into view. A man, standing still, his face obscured by shadows. You couldn’t make out any details, but you knew.

It was him.

Panic surged through you, and you stumbled back, heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst. Your mind screamed at you to call someone—anyone—but your fingers fumbled with the phone, the screen slick in your sweaty grip.

Then, the knocking started again. Louder this time, more insistent. And you knew, deep down, that Steve wasn’t going to leave.

With a trembling hand, you typed a message to Rachel. He’s here. You pressed send, praying she’d answer, praying she’d know what to do, because you were out of options.

The door rattled as the handle turned, and you backed away, feeling the walls press in, the fear tightening like a noose around your throat. Steve’s voice, quiet and low, drifted through the door.

“I know you’re in there. We need to talk.”

You felt the world narrow to that single point, every instinct screaming at you to run. But there was nowhere to go. You were trapped. And as his voice filled the silence, you knew this wasn’t over—it was only just beginning.

You bolted to the kitchen, clutching your phone as you moved. You fumbled to find the knife drawer, hands shaking as you yanked it open and grabbed the first one your fingers touched. It wasn’t much—a small paring knife, its blade reflecting the overhead light—but it felt like a lifeline, a piece of steel against the terror thrumming in your veins.

Your phone buzzed, and you glanced down. It was Rachel. Call the police. I’m on my way. Relief flooded through you, but it was quickly replaced by dread as Steve’s voice echoed again from the hallway.

“Why are you hiding?” he asked, his tone soft, almost pleading, as if you were the one being unreasonable. “You know I just want to talk, right? We need to fix this. I love you.”

The words felt like poison, winding through your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning against the counter for support. You’d heard those words so many times before, when he still had a hold on you, when you still believed they meant something real. But now they sounded like a threat..

You dialed 911, your fingers trembling as you pressed the phone to your ear. The operator’s voice was calm, clinical, as you whispered, “There’s someone outside my door. I think he’s trying to get in.”

“Stay calm, ma’am. Can you confirm your address for me?” You rattled off your location, the words spilling out in a rush. “We’re sending a unit now. Stay on the line.”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see you, clutching the phone tighter as you crouched down behind the kitchen counter. Steve was still at the door, his voice a low murmur, like he was talking to himself now. You strained to catch the words.

“…always trying to push me away… like I’m the bad guy…”

You felt the burn of tears in your eyes, but you forced them back. You couldn’t let him see you cry. That was what he wanted—to see you break, to know he still had power over you. But you were done giving him that.

Minutes dragged by, each one feeling like an eternity. You clung to the operator’s voice, her calm instructions grounding you in the reality of the moment. You were no longer the person who used to cling to Steve’s words, hoping he would change, hoping he’d be the man you once thought he was. You were someone different now—someone who had learned to survive.

The pounding at the door grew louder, and you felt the kitchen walls closing in as Steve’s patience ran out. “Open the door!” he shouted, and the sound of his fist slamming against the wood made you flinch. “You can’t keep ignoring me!”

You gripped the knife tighter, crouched down as small as you could, the sound of his rage vibrating through you. You tried to focus on the operator’s voice, the promise that help was coming, that you weren’t alone. But Steve’s shouts filled the apartment, drowning everything out.

A loud crash came from the door, and your heart leapt to your throat. You peeked around the corner, just in time to see the wood splintering under his weight as he slammed his shoulder into it. Fear surged, your mind screaming at you to run, but there was nowhere left to go. You were trapped.

“Ma’am, are you still there?” the operator’s voice cut through the chaos. “Officers are only a few minutes away. Stay with me.”

The door buckled again, the wood cracking. You knew you didn’t have minutes. You had seconds. Steve’s shouts were growing louder, more frantic. You backed up, knife in hand, feeling the walls press in.

Then, a sudden burst of noise—a new sound. Sirens. You heard them faintly at first, then louder, echoing down the street. You watched as Steve paused, his face twisted in frustration as he realized what was happening.

“No,” he muttered, his hands still pressed against the door. “No, this isn’t over.”

But you could see the shift in him, the way he hesitated, caught between his anger and the fear of being caught. The sirens were louder now, and you heard the slam of car doors, voices shouting orders.

Steve turned, and you watched through the peephole as he fled down the hallway. Relief crashed over you, so strong you almost collapsed. You stayed where you were, heart still racing, until you heard the knock on your door—a different knock this time, firm and authoritative.

“Police! Ma’am, are you in there?”

You scrambled to your feet, rushing to the door and fumbling with the locks. You pulled it open, and the sight of the officers standing there—two of them, their hands resting on their weapons—made you sag with relief.

“He was here,” you breathed, feeling the tears finally spill over. “He was trying to get in.”

One officer nodded, stepping forward to guide you out of the apartment. “We’ll take care of it. We need you to stay with us for a moment, okay?”

You nodded, letting them lead you out into the hallway, your legs shaky beneath you. As you stepped out, you caught sight of Rachel rushing through the lobby doors, her face pale with worry. She sprinted toward you, pulling you into a tight hug.

For the first time in months, you felt a flicker of safety, like maybe, just maybe, things would be okay. But even as Rachel held you, her voice soothing in your ear, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the end.

Because as you looked back at your apartment door, the wood still splintered and broken, you knew Steve was out there. And he wasn’t going to stop.

Long time no see💛. I have so much to catch y'all up on. But in the meantime hit up my ask inbox. I would love to chat ✨

[419jhat]

🎄 Steddie Christmas AU List🎄

I have too many ideas and only two hands for typing so here's to hoping some of you take these on lol

1. Rockstar Eddie Munson is visiting a friend's fancy cabin in the middle of nowhere when he swerves off the road due to black ice. He walks up to the closest house and meets local farm boy Steve, who has no idea who he is.

2. Steve and Eddie are neighbors who hate each other but when they both end up alone on Christmas, they finally have a civil conversation and start to connect.

3. Steve and Eddie have never met and only know each other as the asshole who keeps showing up at every store to steal obscure Christmas gifts they're trying to get for the kids.

4. They're coworkers who hate each other but end up getting drunk and fucking about it at the Christmas party. Mistletoe probably involved.

5. Steve and Eddie are strangers who have both been screwed over by the weather and their planes being unable to depart. They decide to share the last rental car and drive their way to Hawkins instead and fall in love along the way.

6. Eddie starts receiving letters to the North Pole from a bunch of random kids and because of general life-induced misery, he decides to fulfill those wishes. Steve is the one who sent the letters for the kids, who he volunteers to care for as part of an underfunded charity thing, so when Eddie shows up to his house (the return address) he falls in love at first sight.

7. Steve is at a super fancy old hotel with his family for Christmas. Eddie is one of those guys who does tours dressed up as a character of the past. Steve, like the dumbass he is, keeps meeting Eddie all alone in strange situations and begins to believe Eddie is the rumored Christmas Ghost of the hotel.

8. Rockstar Eddie sees a video of professional ballet dancer/ice skater/hockey player Steve and exposes himself and his crush via the internet with zero shame. Fans explode when Steve unexpectedly flirts back.

9. Eddie is a popular streamer who has a huge crush on Steve, another popular streamer who does cooking content. He reaches out to do a Christmas themed cooking stream together and is head over heels when Steve shows up prepared with traditional Hanukkah recipes because he looked into Eddie and realized he was Jewish.

[fizzigigsimmer]

Listening to the platters’ only you and thinking about 50s era harringrove 👌👌👌

Honestly same Anon! Ever since i found that dance video I can’t help but picture steve x billy, at the only diner in Hawkins, splitting a basket of fries and a milkshake. Whenever people ask they say it’s because Billy doesn’t like to “waste” his money on fast food & bullshit, he’s saving up to go to California after graduation, but he doesn’t mind stealing Steve’s food. It’s a game now, how quickly Billy can steal the first sip of Steve’s milkshake before he can stop him. All their friends just roll their eyes. Used to their rivalry and the way they always have to be in competition with each other. It’s calmed down a lot since Billy first moved to town - at least nobody seriously thinks they hate each other. They just have to occasionally remind the other who’s the top dog and neither has noticed that they’ve accidentally become best friends and everyone treats them like a unit anyway. Which is exactly how they like it, because they’ve been secretly boyfriends for months and Steve has the day they’re planning on running away to California circled in his calendar.

‘

[blackwood4stucky]

I truly can't help it. I watch stuff and go "ooo stucky au!"

[theha1rarch]

@milleroptimism liked for john or patricia

Patricia Harrington stares long and hard at the woman in front of her, lips pursed in a thin line before she begins speaking. "Look, it's very kind of you to have taken on the task of looking after Steve while we've been ... away." She pointedly ignores the fact that her husband is still in the car, having refused to step foot in this place. But of course, as always, it's perfectly alright if Patricia subjects herself to it. "But as you can see, we're back now. So I think it's time this little charade comes to an end. You don't need to pretend to be his mother anymore." And hadn't that felt like a slap in the face, hearing her own son - the son she had endured hours of labor for - calling some other strange woman 'mom'. "We will collect our son and be on our way. We can even write you a check if you'd like, to compensate you for all you've done. I know looking after Steve isn't an easy task, he can be ... quite difficult."

[phoenixmuses]

♡ Continued from here ♡ For @taleswritten

Steve had been heading back toward his house from a small convenience store when he caught sight of Billy, bent out of shape and, for the most part, clearly apathetic toward his own well-being.  He couldn't really blame him — not after what he had been through with the Mind Flayer.  It had been a nightmare for Steve and he wasn't even the one that had been possessed, which only spoke volumes of how the blond must have felt.  Despite their past differences, he knew he had to set it aside; they were on the same team now, whether they wanted to be or not.

When he had managed to drag him back to his house, sat on the edge of the tub and gliding a wet washcloth across Billy's busted nose, he couldn't help but feel a little relieved that he was safe in his company.  Steve's brows were furrowed in concentration, his attention honed in on trying not to make the pain any worse, but the way that the silence sat heavy in the air between them was almost unnatural.  He had seen Hargrove after fights, and had even been in one with him back at the Byers' place, yet this was... different.  It was almost eerie, seeing him so solemn like this, and Steve felt his chest tighten just a little when Billy finally broke the quiet.

"Just because you can doesn't mean you should have to.  Hold still and let me take care of you," came his firm but gentle response, briefly meeting his gaze before he finished cleaning up the blood around his nose.  "You're not having any trouble breathing, right?"  Another short pause.  "Nothing that we should be taking you to the hospital for?"

Steve pulled back a little, searching his features for a moment with a slight frown before he exhaled quietly and stood up.  "I'm going to grab some ice and some Tylenol," he muttered, delicately lifting the blond's hand to hold the rag in place on his nose.  "Stay leaning forward and keep pressure on it — not the bone, just the softer part. Don't move."

He disappeared out of the bathroom for almost ten minutes, and when he came back, he had an ice pack wrapped in a clean washcloth, a small bottle of Tylenol, and a glass of water.  Taking a seat across from Billy once again, he pulled out two of the pills and handed them to him with the glass of water.  As they sat together, there was a part of him that wanted to ask what had happened, to see if maybe it had been Tommy H. or someone else they knew; on the other hand, he wasn't sure if he wanted to risk making it worse for the blond by prying.  "You know... if you need to vent or something, I'm all ears," he offered, his voice low and almost hesitant, but sincere.

[ash-muses]

♡ For those who have been hurt sentence starters ♡ Starter for @gentle-hearted

One of the downsides of being popular was that everyone knew your business — worse still, in a small town like Hawkins, you became the center of conversations. Unfortunately, it hadn't been any different when Nancy Wheeler had stomped on Steve's heart last week at Tina's Halloween party, drunkenly implying they were pretending to be in love. It wasn't long before word had spread. He had noticed the whispers, the laughter from his peers, the way Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins had been hazing him about it. He didn't want to think about how he and Nancy avoided eye contact or standing too close in the corridors now, despite making out and trading 'I love you's in the weeks prior to Halloween.

He blinked a few times and shifted his weight, lifting his arm and bracing himself against the wall. It felt as though he had been winded when those words spilled from her lips, expression faltering slightly as he turned to meet her gaze. His copper eyes reflected a sliver of appreciation, his brows furrowed a little with a tinge of uncertainty. "Thanks," he murmured steadily, subtly examining her features as he processed the situation. "You know, uh... no one's told me that yet. It means a lot to me."

[cloudybrews]

Starter for @c0mplex-heroes  Steve nearly tripped into out of the portal. he wouldn't leave his dauhgter. He refused. A grin on his face as he spots her. "Maggie" he calls out warmly.

[megarhyssa-sp]

You've all patiently waited 40k words for Billford! And now the day has finally come. Miskayt and the Muse chapter 8 be upon ye

Title: Blame BABBA, part 1

Summary: Ford develops his Yiddish vocabulary. Bill Cipher contemplates cannibalism and researches protection for triangles. Baby Pyramid Steve investigates "Yubaibai" to learn why it rivals him in affection.

Usually I post chapters every week, but because this one was getting long and I had to split it into 2, I will see if I can post the 2nd part sooner. However, there is still a lot I will need to edit, so we will see. sorry :P

[builder051]

Whumpmas in July 2024 day 7: Favorite whump fic

I have a solid number of favorites. If you go to the desktop version of my blog, there’s a tab called Hall-o-fame. Clicking that should take you to a list of links to other Tumblr posts and AO3 stories that I find especially well done (as suited to my interests; it’s not a be-all-end-all grading system or anything.)

That said, there is one fic that has captured me since the moment it appeared on AO3. It treats Stucky in a stand-alone AU setting, and it effortlessly draws the reader into the narrative without any need for background information. There illness; there is angst. There is drinking; there are consequences. There are troubled relationships; there are serious conversations. It’s a Steve-caretaker and Bucky-whump fic with cameos from Natasha and Sam. To me, it’s perfect.

(As many of you know, @mohini-musing is my significant other, but this story predates our relationship by about a year. We were casual writing buddies for quite some time before things got serious. This story shot straight to the top of my reading list before I knew who was behind it.)

I hope you love it too!

[spring-lxcked]

mild spoilers in tags but i'm just mad i don't write any actual security bre.ach muses now and i think i need to change that fuck

[blackwood4stucky]

Literally me as I write this Lloyd Hansen/Steve Kemp fic 😮‍💨

i love people with favorite characters who barely have any content. i hope you feast well on your three comically tiny bread crumbs tonight