#touchstarved!steve

[ronearoundblindly]

fic title: we've come so far

From this ask game. I don't know if it's cheating to write for an established series for these, but your title was too perfect 💜 and turned out to be WAY more than the small description this game asked for, whoops! ***You do not need to have read any of this series to enjoy this, though you won't necessarily understand how "far" Steve has come without it.***

touch-starved (or is he??) Nomad!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings for smut. Yo, this is flat out just Steve really embracing his horniness, okay? That's it. MINORS DNI. This one is not safe for all ages. WC ~there's... uh... some heft to her... probably 1.5k?

Steve likes to do his morning run through the hiking trails. He rarely passes anyone out there in general, but as today is rainy and overcast, he is guaranteed not to. Also, he wakes to exercise at the ass-crack of dawn or earlier.

Though he no longer needs to hide his face, Steve likes the baseball cap now. He wears it when helping do anything outside, but there will be no gardening with this weather.

He thumps up the porch stairs and rips off his hat to shake off the droplets.

"Beautiful," he declares, and from your spot on the bench, you certainly don't see it.

"It's kinda gross out, Stevie..."

He's staring at you when you pry eyes up from a steaming mug. "Wasn't talking about that," he smiles, crossing the last few feet to you and bending down. He kisses your cheek. "What's on the agenda for such a gross day, Tops?"

You shrug.

They're lazy, all of them, ever since the motel closed. It's just you, him, this house, and the trees, yet you are never lonely.

Steve exhales dramatically as he sits beside you. "I could draw."

"Mmm," you grunt, sipping.

"Or prep a nice dinner," he offers.

That causes you to smirk because they're all nice. Steve quite enjoys cooking even the simplest meals.

"So...same as yesterday."

His fingertips invade your view over the railing into the woods, circling the rim of your drink and gently pulling it away to set on the tiny square table.

"Am I boring you?" Even his voice is smiling while he grabs your waist and thigh, hauling you up over his lap, chuckling at the squeak of shock escaping you. "Ma'am," he prompts, settling your arms below his to cup your face, "are you bored?"

You shake your head, still sleepy.

Steve shifts one hip and then the other, shimmying beneath you slightly until you sit nestled just right atop him. He leans forward to kiss you, not shy about starting deep and dirty, his tongue leeching the caffeine straight from yours greedily. He reacts immediately to your move to hold his shoulders, you body rolling and grinding over his.

"Heaven forbid, I bore you, sweetheart," he husks, merciless in his grip and glide, desperately palming over your ass and back.

Your fingers lodge in the damp strands of his golden hair. "Never," you gasp with a whimper of "you could never."

His hands wander beneath your shirt to play at the soft, tender skin. He's sure to take your lips again when he pinches your nipples to taut peaks. Steve loves to swallow your moans, keep you breathless and pliable, work you into an undulating frenzy before pinning you harshly to him so his calculated thrusts nudge you just right, throwing you over the edge.

He especially loves to hump at your limp and floating form till he comes with a groan and a meaningless curse.

He nuzzles your face where it lies tucked into the crook of his neck. "I think we might need to clean up, beautiful. How 'bout a bath?"

Through your sleepy, near-boneless haze, you manage to whisper a 'yes' but fight with him not to carry you to the bathroom. You want to walk. You want to drink your drink. Steve snorts in approval, calling you cute and telling you to meet him upstairs. He shamelessly struts inside with a dark, wet spot on his sweats, worse than any drizzle of rain could make.

Your bottoms peel away from the mess he made of you, eliciting a hum of satisfaction when Steve undresses you beside the filling tub. He makes no moves to step in with you at first; he simply kneels down on the mat, splashing warm water strategically over your shoulders and chest, lingering over your breasts when you hiss.

It doesn't hurt. You're just sensitive, and his touch is achingly welcome all the time.

His hands roam, searching all the usual spots for the most intense reaction until you beg him to get in, too.

"Yeah?" he teases like there's an actual question of your desire while his fingers circle your clit and his other hand cradles the nape of your neck. He wants a few more 'pleases' for his trouble. Then, and only then, does he stand with a devious smile and disrobe.

Steve was never shy of his body, but over time, he's embraced showing off his body's reaction to you. Your lustful gaze alone makes him hard, day and night and every minute in between.

He climbs over the high lip of the tub, telling you to open up for him, pushing your thighs wider as he lowers. After sloshing around trying to find a position to enter from, he laughs, refusing to let you strain your neck to lift your pelvis high enough.

He thinks...you'll just have to turn over and get on your knees.

Luckily, that solves all the logistical problems. The water bucks about a bit with the force of his fucking, but holding the bulk of you above the rim lets your slick guide his cock perfectly in and out, no displacement, no mess on the tile floor. Steve's considerate even when his hindbrain takes over.

He plants his thick, corded forearm along yours, holding onto the porcelain with his index finger laced around your pinkie, torso molded to the curve of your spine, igniting, soothing, and igniting more flurries of stimulation all over.

Steve slows once he gets close this time, dragging his length casually through the arousal now dripping down your legs. He finds your clit again, muttering filthy, loving things against your arched back.

"Could stay buried in you all day, beautiful. Wonder if we could break our record like this. Should'a rolled you over before my run, feels so good."

But the simple words I love you repeated over and over are what do you in. He sounds lost and yet found in this haze of typical passion. He never tires of loving you, of loving you, of loving you, and like this--delightfully knitted together and pulled tight enough to snap--you feel all his love. It fills you until that balloon of pleasure pops, crashing you back against him, shoving him deeper as he crests, too.

His thighs shake behind yours in the slippery bath, hand splayed across your low belly to keep you upright as Steve whines with each rope of cum that leaves him, that he gives you, that you take from him.

He relaxes but holds you steady, heart beating like a drum against your skin. For a long moment, he's lost, then he finds his reality, delicately maneuvering to flip and seat you, crashing his lips to yours. He starts brutal then tapers into chaste, short pecks while he gets his legs under him, finally submerging past his hips.

The sky may be gray and dark, but the sparkle in Steve's blue eyes shines with megawatt clarity. A dopey smile breaks through his coarse beard.

"Shit," he breathes, carding through his still-dirty hair, tossing his head back with a wispy chuckle, "we might need a shower, too."

You suppose, perhaps, even Steve's laziest days aren't really lazy at all. He finds ways to fill the time just fine.

[Main Masterlist; Fic Title Only Asks; Hideout Masterlist]

Nahhhh, I'm excited enough I'm tagging e'erybody lol:

@mrsevans90 @lemonadygirl @umadirectioner @mrschandlerbing @as-white-as-snow-love @rogersbarber @blogbog710 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thiquefunlover63 @bitchy-bi-trash @supraveng @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries @veryprairieberry

[urhoneycombwitch]

heated touch

Eddie Munson x Reader summer edition.

foreword: “but Lulu it’s not even summer yet how come you wrote a pool fic” okay first of all global warming. it’s absolutely summer rn. hush up and eat up. 👼

cw: R wears bikini top + skirt, Eddie is Down Bad™️, and is also touchstarved, brief use of the awkward miscommunication trope, R’s baby hairs mentioned but no color or texture, weed mention (Robin is a stoner canon change my mind u can’t), R uses sunscreen (no skin color mentioned), implied plus-sized reader

wc: 3.4k

___

It’s the first real, normal, non-apocalyptic summer that anyone can remember having in a long, long time. 

With the heat index at a sizzling 97 today, various members of the Party have taken over Steve’s half-shaded, half-pool extravaganza of a backyard. The kids are jumping in and out of the bright blue water, splashing and cackling, while you and Robin stretch out like house cats in a sunny patch of grass nearby.

You, mere yards away, in a swim top and sweet little pleated tennis skirt. All that lovely skin on display, glistening in the light. 

And Eddie is sulking, indoors, frozen with lovesickness. There’s condensation dripping from the forgotten can of beer in his left hand; through the window above the kitchen sink, Eddie observes the scene in mournful silence.

“Christ, you really are a pussy.”

Eddie whips around with a glare that would level a normal human being, shushing Steve with a panicked fierceness that only makes the guy chuckle harder at Eddie’s expense. 

“Y’know,” Steve continues with the insults, dipping into the fridge and reappearing with a Fanta and a shit-eating grin- “You might want to try leering like a creep from the garage window. That way no will hear you jack off-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Harrington.” Eddie interrupts with a grade-A scoff and eye roll combo, rivaling Steve’s own bitchiness. “Wasn’t your last successful date back in high school, like, six years ago when you had better hair?”

Steve doesn’t even flinch. With condescending sympathy, he sighs and shakes his head of (beautiful-even-when-wet, damn him) hair, snapping the soda can tab with a flourish. “Might wanna hurry up and make a move. Can’t suppress my charm forever just ‘cuz you’re too chicken to man up- it’s not natural to keep all of this hidden away.”

Steve gestures to the broad expanse of his golden chest, dark thicket of hair sitting proud, the scars that he seems to have no qualms over showing off criss-cross along the flex of muscle at his sides. 

Realistically, Eddie knows Steve wouldn’t go after you, not even as a joke. It would defy the honorable and unmentioned Bro Code they’ve lived by ever since Eddie almost died in an alternate hell dimension and Steve valiantly pulled him back topside. 

Teasing, though? It’s Harrington’s godgiven right- especially since Eddie’s so hopelessly in love. It’s almost too easy to get him riled up, to light a fire under his ass to maybe finally get the situation some forward movement. 

Flames lick at the kindling. Steve walks backwards, shooting Eddie one last finger gun and wink before rejoining the boisterous outdoors crowd. Through the crack Steve’s left in the sliding glass door, Eddie can hear that asshole’s cheery voice ring out- “Lookin’ good, ladies!”- and your subsequent peal of laughter. 

Eddie can feel the heat through the black denim at his ass, sweat rushing to prickle at his pits underneath the light layer of tanktop- the one with a high-necked collar and sides long enough to conceal most of his scars. 

Not that he’s trying to hide ‘em, perse... they’re just sensitive to the sun. Plus his black jeans have holes in them, so they totally count as summer attire. He’s basically wearing shorts right now. Steve can suck it.

“Suck it, Steve,” Eddie grits out to no one for good measure, before taking a steadying gulp of beer and stepping bravely out beyond the glass doors. 

It’s shockingly bright, sun bouncing off the surface of the pool and rendering Eddie momentarily blind; he shields his eyes with his free hand in time to catch the tail end of Sinclair’s mid-air somersault.

“Five,” Max calls out, lounging safely out of the splash zone, waves from Lucas’s cannonball lapping at her pink donut pool float. Thick black prescription sunglasses take up half her face, expression unmoved even as her boyfriend splutters in the deep end.

“Are you kidding?” Lucas is indignant as he huffs and treads water. “Gimme at least an eight. Did you even see the flip?” 

“I saw it.” Unimpressed, Max shrugs a freckled shoulder. While Lucas devolves into swearing out his complaints (already with one elbow planted on the concrete to get out and make another attempt at a higher score), Max zeros in on Eddie, one brow arched high in searing appraisal. “You gonna swim with your boots on, too?”

“I’m- shut up, Red. Nice donut.”

Max’s triumphant smirk confirms what Eddie already knows (he totally bombed that comeback), but if there’s one thing in the world Eddie’s good at, it’s Pretending. A trait forged and perfected over the years of being reigning Dungeon Master; it’s served him well during D&D sessions, and when running from the law. 

And it’s coming in handy now, too, as Eddie walks past Steve (half-snoozing in a lounger) and the table of Baby Byers and Wheeler Jr. (playing an intense game of Slapjack), pretending to be totally Normal and Chill as he approaches you and Robin, a ways off from the bustling pool.

Go with what you know, Eddie tells himself, because if he focuses for more than two seconds on the fact that you’re stretched prone, sunlight filtering through the big tree overhead and illuminating the soft curves of your thighs just visible under the Spandex hem of your skirt, he’s gonna have a pressing issue that will be anything but pretend.

Robin’s lying on her back on the beach towel next to yours, a tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice held up close, obscuring her field of vision. Using this to his advantage, Eddie crouches on his haunches, then leans in to press his cold can of beer to the tender arch of Robin’s bare foot.

She yelps, kicking out on instinct (which Eddie was expecting). He manages to take the brunt of the hit with a forearm block, but doesn’t see the paperback coming until it’s hitting the side of his face.

“Ow, christ, Buckley,” he moans, slumping to sit on Robin’s towel, hamming up the victim act for your sake and sympathy while Robin snatches up her book and gives him another solid thwack, pages fluttering.

At the commotion, you’d lifted your head from your arms, leaning into them now with the weight of your upper half. Eddie tries really, really valiantly to not stare at your swimsuit top (practically a bra), and instead distracts himself with the fact that you were giggling. At him. 

Give the boy an inch and he’ll take a mile, Wayne is wont to say of his nephew. Never been truer than now, as Eddie gets drunk off your attention and humors, crowding familiarly and rudely into Robin’s space just to piss her off more and to keep your twinkling-eyed focus.

“Yech.” Robin gags. “I’m not gonna sit here and watch you two flirt up close. I just ate lunch.”

Eddie’s worried that comment will embarrass you into pulling away but apparently, you’re not shying from the accusations of his affection anymore. 

A snort and a sardonic eye roll is what you dish back, and Eddie latches on, delighted to have a Shit Starter in Crime, pushing an honest hand to his chest in faux-shock- “Flirting? Me? I’d never. What an accusation. You’re getting crazier by the day, Buckley.”

The peal of laughter that ripples from you is like a song, vibrating the frequencies between Eddie’s ears, scrambling all the channels with its aching beauty.

Goddamn addictive, he thinks, as the white-out of his hearing fades back to normal. A light, warm wind rustles through the big oak overhead, leaves shushing together; allowing himself a glance at your stretched form, Eddie’s (un)luckily close enough to see the smattering of goosebumps rise on the skin of your arms. 

To observe the way sweat curls the baby hairs near your temple, at the nape of your neck. To see the little creases near the corner of your eyes as you close them, turning your face into the wind, a quiet expression of summer bliss on your face.

Eddie could sit here for hours like a (happy) creep just taking in every minute detail, but Robin starts bitching at him about the weed he still owes her from ages ago, poking her cold toes into the holes of his jeans, mischievous and irritating.

Eddie smacks at her ankles until she pulls them back, matching her argument point for point; it’s not about the weed, of which he’d gladly give- it’s about keeping that smile on your face even as you sit up to start digging through your nearby tote bag.

“And plus,” Robin’s saying, sticking a finger into the dimple of Eddie’s left cheek like the obnoxious little sister he never asked for, “You scratched the everliving hell out of my bike last month when you insisted you were sober enough to ride it home.”

“What’d you want me to do, drink and drive? Not very Just Say No Club of you.” Eddie is operating on autopilot with his responses, absorbed in the way your delicate fingers move inside the canvas of the bag. 

“I wanted the same thing that I currently. Want.” Two more ice-cold prods of her toes into the same spot of his exposed knee. “Three grams, pre-rolled, plus an apology.”

Eddie is about to give in with the promise of the rest of his sizable stash and a bike waxing regimine with his own spit thrown into the mix to get Robin off his case, when the sound of your voice cuts through the bickering. 

In your hand, held aloft and out between the three of you, is a bottle of sun lotion. Your focus is fixed on shaking displaced items back into your bag, not looking as you make a request:

“Babe, would you do my back?”

Eddie moves on instinct before he even has time to process the ask, reaching out towards the palm tree-printed plastic- but for some reason, Robin’s hand collides with his mid-air. Goddammit, Buckley. 

His annoyance at Robin quickly gives way to confusion, then roiling embarrassment as two sets of eyes whip to him, your mouth slightly parted in an o shape and Robin making a squeak of awkward alarm.

You were talking to Robin. Obviously, you were talking to your girl friend to rub you down with lotion. 

Jesus christ, Munson, get a grip.

Eddie lets go at the same time Robin and you draw back, the three of you stammering half-sentences over the thunk of the bottle hitting the ground.

“I meant- sorry, god, sorry, I meant Robin-”

“Fucking- jesus, of course you meant Robin, I’m sorry-”

“Oh god! I can do it! It’s fine!”

There’s a brief pause where all of you stare down at the bottle, as if it holds some great mystery of the world. Or is perhaps concealing a time-bending device that will let Eddie go back twenty seconds to kick himself in the head.

He’s just about to make some lame excuse to fuck off forever when Robin beats him to it, jumping up with a spastic, nervous energy. “Um. Steve’s calling me. So I gotta… see what that dingus wants. You’re good?”

This last part, directed at you; with a quick, reassuring nod, you say “I’m good.” 

Seemingly recouped from the whole debacle, you squint up at Robin- “Eddie’s got it,” and then fixing Eddie with a disarmingly beatific smile- “Right?”

It’s like looking into the sun. Eddie is pretty sure his neurons haven’t been firing properly ever since he caught a glimpse of your thighs earlier. By some miracle, he manages coherence- “Uh-huh. Yep. Right.”

“O-o-kay.” Robin lets the word expand, then gives a dorky two-finger salute and makes for the empty pool lounger next to a snoring Steve.

Then it’s just you and Eddie, blinking at each other from your seats on opposing towels, until you lean to pick up the bottle, this time handing it directly to him. 

An invitation, paired with a smile that still pulls at the corners of your mouth.

Someone jumps noisily into the pool, a few scattered cheers accompanying the crashing water. Red’s distant “Nine-five!” echoes through the backyard and this, of all things, spurs Eddie into unfreezing.

He takes the proffered lotion, shifting to kneel in the strip of grass not covered by either of your towels, waiting and watching for your approval. 

Like something out of a dream, you lower yourself face-down again, hands tucking themselves sweetly into the space between the hollows of your shoulders and the ground. Eyes half-lidded as Eddie scooches closer.

“Just on your back?” He asks, soft, like you’re a deer about to spook (although based on the way his hands are trembling, Eddie’s the more likely candidate for chickening out and running for the hills).

“Mhm. Please.”

Fumbling under your sidelong gaze, Eddie wiggles all the rings from his fingers, stuffing them into his pocket. 

“Too cold,” he explains, feeling fidgety from your eye contact, rubbing his hands together briskly to bring out the warmth and give them something to do other than shake.

Eddie pines for a cigarette, a quick burst of nicotine to steel his nerves. Instead, he picks up the sunscreen, squeezes a quarter-sized puddle into his left hand, and shifts to kneel close as he can without actually bumping his knees into your side.

The sunscreen is already warmed from being out in the heat of the day, so Eddie starts on your left shoulder. Dips his fingers into the puddle, spreads a thin layer on the blade of your shoulder, and rubs it in. 

At first, his touch is gentle and apprehensive, but when your eyes drift shut on the second pass of his fingers, Eddie gets a bit bolder. On your right shoulder, another layer of suncream goes on, but this time, Eddie lets his thumb slip into the grooves under your shoulder blade. 

He runs his thumb along the stripe of muscle next to your scapula, still with pressure light enough to feign keeping to his task, thrilled when you make a soft noise of satisfaction.

“I would’ve asked you, y’know.” 

Eddie pauses, hand resting at the top of your spine, the skin of your neck freshly glistening and tacky from his work. “Asked me what?”

“To do this.” You shrug a shoulder, pointing in a roundabout way at your back. “I just… I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

“Why the hell would I say no to this?” The words are out before Eddie can bite them back and find a much more cool and normal thing to say. He can feel your chuckle, the vibrations of it, the way it causes the muscles in your upper back to move.

Eddie tries to cover his lameness by refocusing on the mission he’s been given, like a heroic knight bestowed with a great honor by a fair maiden… on second thought, he’s got to cut out the fantasy metaphors. This situation is wild and tempting enough as-is without adding a potentially very horny layer to the mix.

“You can get under my top, if you want,” you murmur, lashes dark against your cheek in profile, voice all honeyed and fair-maiden-like. 

Eddie swallows hard. Distributes the rest of the lotion between two palms, rests them just below the black fabric, and then slides up. Underneath the top, your skin is the same- smooth and pliant and sweet. 

“Feels nice,” you whisper, eyes still closed in reverie, sounding sleepy and relaxed.

Eddie is entranced with the way your muscles move under his touch. He applies a bit more pressure to the mid-back area of your spine, dragging his thumbs down on either side. You make another noise, this one closer to a moan, and Eddie’s really glad he’s practiced at the skill of Boner Killer On Command because he wouldn’t dare sully the atmosphere with ill-timed arousal (though his limits are certainly being tested today).

“Sorry about the callouses,” he says, a bit of self-deprecation to fill the air because he’s gotta focus on something other than the way his hand fits perfectly in the center of your low back.

“S’okay. I like them, actually. You’re good with your hands.”

Not for the first time, Eddie is relieved that you’re not looking at him- his ears are burning, on their way to bright pink. Same with his cheeks. “Cool, yeah. That’s good. Um. I play guitar, y’know so… I get around.”

After cringing at himself, Eddie watches the apple of your cheek round upwards with a smile, a sharp flash of your teeth as you say, “I can tell.”

There’s an amiable quiet that falls over the two of you; in the background, splashes and chattering from the pool group float in the air, muted by the warm winds shushing through overhead branches. 

At one point, Eddie realizes he’s covered your whole back in sunscreen and is now just trailing his fingertips over the notches of your spine, starting low and ending near your neck, following the path down again in a loop. If you mind, you don’t say anything, seemingly sated by his touch. 

There’s an aching behind Eddie’s ribs. It squeezes at his heart, makes his next breath pinch- he wants to touch you like this all the time. He’s already hooked. 

All too soon, you’re peeling yourself from the blanket, sitting up with a sheepish smile. Eddie can’t tell if you’re getting shy on him from the touch alone, or if it’s the fact that he’s the one that’s been touching. 

Either way, if Eddie could find a more chill way to say “I’d like to do that every minute for the rest of my life if you’ll let me,” he’d say it to appease any worries you may have. 

Bare knees pulled to your chest, you gesture at the bottle still in Eddie’s hand. “I could… do you, if you wanted?”

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, through the heated curtain of curls. “Nah, that’s okay. My abs won’t be ready to debut until the end of summer. 1993.”

He’s expecting at least a chuckle out of you, but instead, he’s fixed with a kind, all-knowing look. 

The two of you are face to face, your shin close enough to brush Eddie’s ribs as you state, “Not a fan of the heat, are you.”

“What gave it away?” Eddie gestures animatedly at the humidity-fed frizz of his hair, then shakes his head like a wet dog. 

When you catch one of his curls between two fingers he freezes, heart slamming to a pause as you loop it around a knuckle.

“I have some deep conditioner at my place. Could help you out if you wanna come by some time.”

Mere inches from his cheek as you lean in, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, trying to memorize how you smell- coconutty from the lotion, a bit sweaty, a faint hint of deodorant and the vanilla perfume you spray in the mornings. 

He’s never been this close before. 

He feels electric. Or more accurately, like he’s been electrocuted, and he’s waiting for you to restart his heart. 

“Does that sound good, Eddie? You, me, some hair care… maybe a movie? I can steal some from Family Video. I know a guy.”

At his ear now, your voice is low as you wrap a hand around the inside of Eddie’s arm- it’s his turn to break into goosebumps. “Oh yeah? Willing to steal for me already?”

This earns him a stellar laugh, head tipped back to show the curve of your perfect neck. You shove at him playfully, and he’s about to snap up your hand to bite as payback when your name is yelled from across the yard.

“Come on, we need another unbiased judge!” Max waves urgently from the pool as Lucas and Dustin get into an increasingly loud argument over the Olympic grading system. 

“Goddamn kids.” This comes out much more growly than Eddie intended; you just chuckle and squeeze his arm before pulling away to stand.

Eddie mourns the loss of your body heat until you extend a hand towards him, saying, “Let’s go humor our goddamn kids, and we can talk about dinner afterwards.”

It’s like your hand is made to fit inside Eddie’s. He follows close on your heels, heart thudding a steady, overjoyed rhythm once more. 

[sadhours]

Ugh, that so hard... I picture Gator being so touchstarved but wanting to be rough with a soft side.... and Steve, well, I have a serious hand kink for the man, so... I feel like he'd lose his mind if his girlfriend had his thumb on her tongue.

i will start with the Steve one here and post the gator one separately bc… yeah… Steve’s hands

steve harrington x fem!reader

requests open! • masterlist

cw: 18+ minors dni, hand kink, oral fixation, smut, p in v, unprotected sex

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

steve’s hands are massive compared to yours. you’re always in awe of it when you press your palm to his, watching the way his fingers close and completely envelope the back of your hand. always so warm and soft. comforting in a way you hadn’t felt before.

but steve’s just as into it as you are.

you’re sprawled out on your back, sleep warm tangled sheets beneath you while he snakes his way between your thighs. large hands make purchase over the sensitive flesh as he spreads them. and you’re a little sore from the night before but your core aches in anticipation for more, slick already dripping from you. steve dips down to kiss you tenderly, the promise of his weight on you has your hips rolling up at him. your hands sliding into the hair curling at the nape of his neck. steve mumbles into the kiss, “you’re beautiful, baby.”

the compliment heats you up even more, whining in response as the pair of you smile into a needier kiss. steve’s hard against you, shaft of his cock fitting between your folds as his hands slide up your hips, sides until he’s holding your jaw. his hands so big it covers the entirety of your face, fingertips meeting your hairline while he deepens the kiss. his tongue gaining entrance into your parted lips and rolling against your own. he slips into you slowly, giving your sore cunt plenty of time to adjust to his size. you still gasp when he slides in, you always do.

steve breaks the kiss then, gazing down at you lovingly as his thumb grazes against your lower lip. you chase it, tongue darting out to meet the digit before you wrap your lips around it. steve’s eyes darken, zoned in on where you’re sucking lazily on his thumb. his lips part as he breathes out a shaky moan, his other hand moves to grip your hip. he reels back slightly, thrusting forward a second later. your eyebrows furrow and you moan around his thumb as he prods that golden spot deep inside you. he’s staring down at you in awe, adoring the way his hand cases over the expanse of your cheek. can’t help but push his thumb against your tongue as he drives his hips deeper before retreating slightly, drags his pulsing cock against your fluttering walls. you squeeze him so good, he hiccups out these soft and sweet sounds.

you stick your tongue out then, steve keeps his thumb fixed on it as he builds up a faster pace. maintains the deepness of it.

“such a good girl for me,” he praises you, voice breathy and gentle. goes straight to your head, feeling all warm and gooey. back arching from the delicious friction, nerves aflame with lulling euphoria.

he moves his hand then, prods his middle and ring finger against your tongue. your lips circle around them on their own volition, uncontrollable urge to have him fill you all over, wherever he can.

“Christ— you’re—“ he grunts out, hips snapping into you harder and quicker, chasing his own bliss. pounding against your sweet spot just right, just hard enough, just repetitive enough to have your pussy clenching around him as your orgasm crashes into you. your moans are muffled by his fingers, eyes rolling back as steve pants out the most pretty, shocked moan. all high pitched. followed by a slew of babbling, “that’s it, good girl, cum all over my cock, ah— ah, yeah, i’m gonna cum, you feel so good— fuck, ah!”

his hips drill harder, sloppier until they still and his face contorts all pretty as he fills you with his release. he pulls his fingers from your mouth, collapsing on top of you and nuzzling his face into your neck. you wrap your arms around his waist, squeezing him tight, smile tugging your lips up at the corners.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

finally was able to finish money magic - here are some thoughts i jotted down as i was reading:

-"No one has ever been able to make him make music before." do u actually want me dead be honest

-don't u know that touchstsrved steve is my kryptonite

-every time steve's pecs are called tits an angel gains it's wings

-ALSO BUCKY IN JEWELRY IS ABT TO DO MY HEAD IN!!! HELLLOOO I HAVE AN ENTIRE PINTREST BOARD IN MY HEAD DEDICATED TO THIS IM ABOUT TO GO INSANW

anywho, i absolutely adored that fic & it's in my bookmarks and is sure to be a reread!!! i found their dynamic so interesting and compelling and i ALWAYS love an inner steve pov. also it was mindblowingly hot ... but like.... that's a given

also i want to add that "keep quiet, nothing comes as easy as you" is another all-timer for me

love your work and as always thank you for sharing <3 :)

"Money Magic"

AH! Thank you so much!! I love comments like this. They're the way to my heart.

Maybe I do want you dead 😏 Maybe that's my plan for world-domination, lmao, thinning the masses as much as possible before the take over

Lmao, I do know now and to be honest, me fucking too. Touchstarved Steve makes me weak at the knees in a crying-emotional way, not a horny-emotional way (well, sometimes the horny way, clearly, but usually not, haha)

I. COULDN'T. AGREE. MORE.

Why does he have his own jiggle physics? How could I not call 'em what they are? It's impossible.

Yesssss!! How could fin dom Bucky be complete without so much sparkle? He would always be dripping in jewelry.

Thank you so much!! I'm glad you enjoyed it so much and I fucking love to hear that you'll re-read it, that really is the highest compliment possible <3 I'm glad you found their dynamic compelling, especially when it was just a Steve POV fic (I was a little nervous about not capturing their chemistry without switching back and forth, so that's good to hear), that's sweeeeet.

"Keep Quiet, Nothing Comes As Easy As You"

Aww, thank you!!

Thank you x100

[steddie-fanfic-recs]

wrap me in blankets to stop me from shaking, baby

by unkreativstermensch

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Wayne Munson Additional Tags: Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, i dont even know what this is, It just happened, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Touchstarved Steve Harrington, How much hurt can fit into one Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, once he gets over his prejudices lol, Enemies to Lovers, in the span of a couple hours, i really cannot make them dislike each other for more than 2k words lmao, Coming Out, First Kiss, Pre-Stranger Things 4, Platonic Soulmates Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, it's not important to the story robin isnt even mentioned i think, but its important to me, Eddie Munson is a caffeine addict, that is also absolutely not important to the story, Wayne Munson is a Sweetheart, he's the best, I love him, Steve Harrington Has PTSD Words: 7,624 Chapters: 1/1

Summary

Steve gave him a disbelieving, skeptical look. “Just a minute ago you didn’t even want to give me your blankets and now you’re…what, suggesting I basically move in with you?” Eddie sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well a minute ago I still thought this was just some place for you to get laid, not your home.” Steve winced. Eddie pretended he didn’t notice. “Plus, you didn’t give me those puppy dog eyes.” Or: It's freezing. The heater in Steve's new trailer doesn't work. The one in Eddie's does.

[gunshou]

For the WIP game! tell me about touchstarved please?

My favorite trope to think about once a month (wheee, hormones!) is recovering Bucky whoring himself to survive. Add in touch starvation so he craves fucking strangers just so he can feel human again, and I roll around in those dumpster juices like a pig in mud. I've worked on this one a paragraph at a time for a few months, writing during the week-long window when my depravity is turned up to eleven.

~~~~~~~~ SNIPPET:

Tucking the handle of his flashlight into the twisted hood of his sweatshirt so the light fell in front of him, he opened the notebook and took one of the pens out of the package. His vision blurred at a stray thought: cheap, disposable, would’ve come in handy back in— The rest whited out in a blurt of blue crackling light and snow static. When he came back to himself, panting like a dog and sweating profusely, he had snapped the plastic barrel of the cheap pen, coating his fingers, the thigh of his dungarees, and the notebook with blue ink. He closed his eyes in familiar frustration and concentrated on breathing until his heart stopped racing and he didn’t feel an imminent urge to vomit, although the pounding in his temples didn’t decrease a whit. Then he wiped his hand and notebook with the least filthy rag he could find, took out a new pen, and turned to an unstained page. Tentatively, in shaky block lettering, he began to write. GOALS

safe place to rest

nutrition/water source

destroy HYDRA

catalog resources

remember who i am

remember steve mission target capt? steve

get needed resources

???

~~~~~~~~~

Thank you so much for the ask!

[ao3feed-wandamaximoff]

when you call my name (it's like a little prayer)

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/wc59PuL by kaminaridamacy Everything had gone right this morning. You were happy in your life, working as a researcher in the Avengers tower. Sure, you were a bit of a workaholic, but who wasn't? ...So why did it all have to go to shit? Or; What happens when the reader gets powers from a mysterious woman who blew up part of the tower? What happens when, a year later, the Avengers find her? What happens when Bucky Barnes is the only one she can touch without seeing double? Words: 12277, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Avengers Team Members (Marvel), Other Avengers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Wanda Maximoff, Tony Stark, Thor (Marvel), Sam Wilson (Marvel), Reader, Hulk (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Maria Hill, Vision (Marvel), Clint Barton Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, Avengers Team Members (Marvel) & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson & Reader, Wanda Maximoff & Reader, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov & Reader Additional Tags: Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Avenger Bucky Barnes, Reader-Insert, Avengers Tower, Avengers Family, Avengers Compound, avengers need researchers, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Good Friend Sam Wilson (Marvel), Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson Bickering, Sassy Bucky Barnes, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, Mystery, Minor Original Character(s), non-descriptive reader, reader physical attributes not described AT ALL, reader gets powers (not mary sue i promise she's bad at stuff too), Researcher Reader, The Avengers Live in Avengers Tower (Marvel), CoWorkers to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, mostly canon compliant aside from a few key things, Trigger Warning: Reader is in a LOT of pain, Chronic Pain, it gets solved though, Touchstarved Reader, Trigger Warning: lots of crying, reader goes THROUGH IT for the first two chapters, its exposition shes gotta, Eventual Happy Ending, Domestic Avengers, use of Y/N, Canon-Typical Violence read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/wc59PuL

[ao3feed-peterparker]

Touchstarved

by Weirdo25 You really hate being touched, but when you get sleep-deprived around Bucky, will things change? Words: 987, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Other Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Reader, Friday (Marvel) Relationships: Avengers Team Members (Marvel) & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, Tony Stark & Reader, Peter Parker & Reader, Bruce Banner & Reader, Clint Barton & Reader, Steve Rogers & Reader, Natasha Romanov (Marvel) & Reader Additional Tags: Gender-neutral Reader, Reader is an Idiot, reader bribes Steve and nat, reader has nightmares, Bucky is the best, the avengers watch Brooklyn nine-nine, POV Second Person, Use of y/n to refer to the reader via https://ift.tt/HWbcwmE

[eclipse-mfrp]

You've always had latent magic in your blood — everyone does, really. It's just a matter of if and when it wakes up.

Maybe you've been preparing for it all your life; you intentionally triggered the awakening of your magic. Or maybe it was brought about by a severely traumatizing event, where your magic accidentally woke up in order to protect you. Maybe you were a child, or maybe you were an adult.

Whatever the case may be, it's awake now. Magic can spill from your fingertips as easily as air spills from your lungs; which means it's time to learn how to use it.

Stonewall Academy was built specifically for that; to teach, to help those with magical abilities thrive. And for those that have already received their training, Stilleria's landscape is always growing, always changing. Always accepting.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

eclipse is an alternate universe roleplay that puts characters in a world that is different from their own, allowing writers to be more creative and have more fun with backgrounds, relationships, etc. however, their canon universes will come into play at a later date.

we also offer:

- a lax activity check; no word or character count.

- the frequent posting of qotd's

- a world that mods encourage members to interact with

- a warm acceptance of both original characters and canon characters from most medias/media types

- an immediate allowance of 12 character slots, with the option to gain more via a game the entire server plays.

Open : for reserves!

quick navigation:

| server invite | more tba |

Current Reserves

IT

- Eddie Kaspbrack (07/18)

- Richie Tozier (07/18)

Stranger Things

- Will Byers (07/18)

- Mike Wheeler (07/18)

- Eddie Munson (07/18)

- Billy Hargrove (07/20)

- Steve Harrington (07/20)

- Max Mayfield (07/20)

- Jonathan Byers (07/20)

- Eleven / Jane Hopper (07/23)

Genshin Impact

- Albedo (07/18)

- Kaeya Alberich (07/18)

- Cyno (07/18)

- Aether (07/20)

- Neuvillette (07/21)

Honkai Star Rail

- Aventurine (07/18)

- Sunday (07/21)

- Phainon (07/21)

- Caelus (07/23)

- Castorice (07/23)

- Mydeimos (07/23)

Tokyo Revengers

- Inui Seishu (07/18)

Baldur's Gate 3

- Halsin (07/20)

- Gale Dekarios (07/23)

Touchstarved

- Leander (07/18)

Castlevania

- Soma Cruz (07/20)

Devil May Cry

- V (07/20)

Kingdom Hearts

- Roxas

Creepypasta

- Toby Rogers

The Walking Dead

- Louis Miller (07/20)

- Clementine (07/20)

Bungou Stray Dogs

- Osamu Dazai (07/20)

- Sigma (07/20)

- Edgar Allen Poe (07/23)

Percy Jackson

- Percy Jackson (07/20)

- Annabeth Chase (07/20)

- Will Solace (07/20)

- Hazel Levesque (07/23)

- Nico Di Angelo (07/23)

Tokyo Revengers

- Manjiro Sano (07/20)

- Ken Ryuguji (07/21)

Yohaji

- Miki Rintarou (07/21)

Wuthering Waves

- M!Rover (07/20)

- Camellya (07/21)

- Jiyan (07/21)

- F!Rover (07/23)

- Scar (07/23)

Critical Role

- Mollymauk Tealeaf (07/21)

Sally Face

- Larry Johnson (07/22)

- Sal Fisher (07/20)

Howls Moving Castle

- Howl Pendragon (07/23)

League of Legends

- Jayce Talis (07/23)

- Karthus (07/23)

- Viktor (07/23)

Squid Games

- Seong Gi-hun (07/23)

- Hwang Jun-ho (07/23)

Cookie Run

Kingdom

- Eternal Sugar (07/23)

Frieren: Beyond Journeys End

- Frieren (07/23)

100 Line: Last Defense Academy

- Takumi Sumino (07/23)

[ronearoundblindly]

Hideout (Interlude)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!reader (see series)

Written for @whiskeytangofoxtrot555's birthday from her premise ask 💜 but also serves as a wee prezzie for @blogbog710, @targaryenvampireslayer, @navybrat817, and (belatedly) the lovely @ellethespaceunicorn! (What the heck is in the water?? So many bdays I didn't know about!)

Summary: Your birthday ritual is interrupted.

*You do not need to know anything about this series to enjoy this blurb.* Warnings for suggestive eating, a sweet kiss (literally), cuddling in minimal clothing, but otherwise, just fluff and feels! WC 1.2k

Of course, you don’t always do this. Sometimes you’re out with friends. Sometimes your parents make a huge deal out of late dinner. Sometimes you draw the short straw and have to work the front desk, but not tonight.

The searing red of the digital clock counts down for you (or up depending on how you look at it). Soon—very soon—it will be midnight, and you can wish yourself the first ‘happy birthday.’ To some that might seem sad, but it’s become a ritual of you putting yourself first. Birthday parties may be for children but celebrating YOU should never go out of style.

The red flickers. New numbers. New you. Older, wiser, and alive. It’s a beautiful thing.

Your eyelids fall heavy after your long soak in the tub, the lingering scent of the bubblebath still warm on your skin. You’re content and tired. You hum as a smile tugs the corners of your mouth.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Why you aren’t startled is a hope you don't admit aloud, a greedy, gluttonous vice that piles on to a reality you cannot share with a single living soul except…

Steve Rogers, the fugitive Captain America, crouches outside your window, nimble and stealthy, having climbed to the slant of roof without you noticing.

But you wished for him. You always wish for him to come back.

Your smile grows as you slide off the edge of your bed and press your hand to the pane of glass. He mirrors the gesture, unhurried, soft. It’s just a moment more before you lift the latches and invite him in.

Whispers of ‘hey’ are exchanged while Steve crawls through, but he only answers your surprised “what are you doing here?” with a kiss to your forehead and a long hug.

You taught him how to hug like that. He's taken it to another level as anxiety melts out of you faster than it did in the bath.

His warm skin smells of pine and leather, likely from wearing his decrepit Cap suit to sneak around the woods behind your house. It fits his mountain-man vibe these days--full beard, hair curling beneath his ears, desperate loneliness he uses you to brighten.

You're not sure Steve comprehends how much light he brings to your life in return, but you soak up what you can.

He stands tall, still grinning, and drops a small, structured backpack to the floor. From it he pulls a pastry box, a little pack of candles, and a lighter. He goes through the entire process of preparing your cupcake in his palm before stretching out his hand.

The tiny, flickering flame shimmers in his twilight eyes.

“Happy birthday, Tops.”

As you gently take your treat, it occurs to you that you’ve never told Steve Rogers your birthday. 

“How did you know?”

Technically, the question is casual, but you’re still curious.

His eyebrows shoot up, dramatic and comical shadows cast across his handsome features.

“Well, see, in my…position—” Wax drips onto the towering icing while Steve rubs his neck, guilty and avoiding your eyes. “I have to take certain…precautions, and I was just—” 

“Did you look me up? Online? Do some research, huh? Check up on me?” 

You’re teasing him, but it is fun to see the huge man kneeling at your bedside squirm. His blush is crimson in the candlelight.

You poke his burly shoulder. “You were checkin’ me out…”

“It’s not like that,” he whispers. “Anyway, make a wish, birthday girl.” Steve pushes the cupcake higher in your hold, encouraging you with a wry smile.

Your breath is swift and precise, your desire so clear at the forefront of your mind that picking a wish—another wish, since he’s already here—takes no time at all.

Steve maneuvers himself to sit up on your bed, pulling you to into his lap.

“Good surprise?”

“The best,” you whisper.

You remove the candle and hold the bottom to Steve’s lips. “Lick.”

He sucks off the icing slowly, keeping his eyes locked with yours.

You playfully run your finger through the frosting and taste it, too. If you ever told him your favorite cake flavor, you can’t remember that either, but he clearly knows.

“Tasty?” he asks, a swipe of his tongue wetting his lips.

“Uh-huh.”

You take another dollop and offer your finger to him.

He chuckles. “It’s all yours. I’m not fond of super-sweet things.”

“Oh?” You let the whipped, buttery sugar dissolve in your mouth, thinking. “You’re fond of me, so…are you saying I’m not sweet?”

Your concern is overly dramatic, but Steve stares, biting his bottom lip. “No.”

“Then what do I add to the flavor?” You pull down a corner of crimped paper to try the cake itself. He’s still pondering when you clean lingering stickiness off your thumb.

“Clarity,” Steve finally says. “You offer clarity in a very blurry life.”

His hand on your back shifts to cradle your head, bringing you closer until you’re captured in an intense but chaste kiss. He cups your cheek in his other palm and licks across your sweet lips until you open for him. Steve devours you like you are the real treat, uncaring if his offering splats on the floor. It’s not on fire anymore, so who cares?

Something else occurs to you, jolting you to break away.

“How long can you stay?”

Steve pets down his beard, restarting his brain. “Till morning, I guess, but then I should go. I don’t want to ruin any of your other plans.”

Unbidden, you inhale swiftly and are overtaken by a yawn.

He’s wildly amused by that. “Tired, Tops?”

“No,” you lie, feeling another one coming on. “If I eat the rest of this, I’ll have energy.”

“Or—“ Steve plucks the confection away before you can slam it in two bites flat “—you can finish this for breakfast and get some sleep.”

You whine in protest because every minute you sleep is a minute with him wasted. He senses exactly that.

“I promise to stay right here all night. Come on. Get comfy.”

He repackages your cupcake to keep it fresh while you crawl into bed. You’ve never seen Steve have to remove his suit, and to watch, it looks tedious and involved.

“Took a second to master, I tell ya,” he mutters once the top is off.

Another minute and he’s shuffling under the covers beside you, aligning his body to snuggle yours, keeping you facing him.

Again his hand finds your cheek, his thumb brushing across your skin gently. He’s purposefully lulling you, placing the most delicate kisses over your forehead, his beard tickling your nose and making it scrunch up.

“Sorry,” he breathes.

You tilt upwards to steal the apology right from his lips. Usually, your time together is dictated by his needs, even if he doesn’t ask for the attention. It’s uplifting to have no worry of caring for him explicitly. This is just you with him, zero pressure, tons of love, nothing between.

“Hey, Steve?”

You wait for the deep rumble of a hum from his chest

“Thank you. I don’t think I ever said that.”

He smiles against your mouth, breaking away with a swift double peck.

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” He pulls you flush to his chest, sighing happily when you toss your leg over his hip. “Happy birthday,” Steve whispers into your hair. “Thank you for letting me in.”

You fall asleep with him everywhere, in your arms, in your lungs, and in your heart. Your wish is that he never leaves, and for tonight, he’s doing the best he can to make your every wish come true.

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby

@late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries 

@rogersbarber @blogbog710 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes

@mrsevans90 @lemonadygirl @umadirectioner @mrschandlerbing @as-white-as-snow-love

[musicalluna]

walking wounded

a little touch starved steve for @ohgodsabove​

--

Steve has been walking around the Tower like a ghost for the last week.

It's February and the gloomiest it's been all winter; during the day it rains and at night it snows, not heavily, but unceasingly.

Everyone is a little bit antsy as a result, but Cap has been prowling around in thick knitted sweaters clutching steaming mugs and staring out the water-speckled windows. His usually clear gaze is distant and unfocused and honestly it's giving Tony the heebie jeebies. He doesn't know where it is Steve's gone in his head, but it's not here.

Tony tries to keep the unsettle off his face when he emerges from his workshop, but Cap doesn't make it easy, and near the end of the week it all comes to a head.

Thursday afternoon he comes up to get coffee and he's hoping to run into Natasha so they can exchange a few barbs, but Steve is the only one in the kitchen. He's sitting at the counter with a mug, eyes fixed on the grey mess outside.

“Hey, Cap,” Tony says, aiming for casual, but sounding wary even to his own ears.

“I'm fine,” Steve murmurs and Tony pauses at the counter in front of the coffee maker, closing his eyes. He rubs the bridge of his nose.

Okay, they're doing this then.

“Well, that's a load of horseshit if I've ever heard it,” he says, falsely bright and turns back around.

Steve's eyes drag over to look through him and for a second Tony thinks he's going to say he's fine again. Instead, he says hollowly, “Yeah, maybe.” He sighs and digs his fingers into his forehead. “Don't worry about it.”

“Tried that. Didn't work. Time to try something else. What's your deal?”

Steve blinks at him slowly and shrugs. “Dunno.”

Tony looks at him, really looks at him, and the way he's hunched over the mug clutched in his hands like he thinks he'll go flying off into outer space if he eases up, the dark shadows under his dull eyes. It's a look Tony's seen in the mirror more than a few times.

He fills up a mug, and as he does, asks, “You mind if I sit with you?”

“Not very good company.”

“Did I ask you to be?”

“It's your home,” Steve mutters.

Tony's a little bit alarmed by the fact that he recognizes Steve is trying to push him away. “You're right, it is,” he replies and plops down carelessly into the seat right next to Steve, with enough force to inch it that much closer to Steve's.

Their arms touch and Steve eyes him suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

“Coffee.” Tony lifts his mug in illustration. “What are you doing?”

Steve looks back down at his own mug, still full and apparently untouched. He shakes his head.

Tony leans into him a little, reaching across him to activate the holoscreen on the counter. He can feel Steve's eyes on his face, his awkward, reluctant attempt to shift away from where Tony's touching him. “You don't mind do you?”

Steve's forehead creases. “Mind what?”

Tony jostles Steve's arm a little, nudges a little closer so he's pressed up against Steve from knee to hip.

“Not if you don't,” Steve says slowly. He still seems confused and Tony wonders if it's because he's forgotten what casual contact felt like, or if it's because he hasn't been sleeping. Maybe both.

He's watching Tony manipulate the holoscreen with that crease on his forehead still, and Tony grimly thinks, Both. “You're a fantasy nerd, right?”

“I—what's that? Nerd?”

“Nevermind. You like Lord of the Rings?”

“Yes,” Steve says, and deep suspicion pushes back the fog in his gaze momentarily.

“Has anyone introduced you to D&D yet?”

“D and D? I don't think so. What is it?”

“Dungeons and Dragons. It's a game.”

“Like...cards?”

Tony smiles and settles in as he pulls up the first episode of Critical Role. “Kind of not at all. Watch this, I think you'll like it. You don't have anywhere to be, do you?”

“No,” Steve murmurs, frowning as he looks between the video starting on the screen and Tony plastered up against his side. “Don't you?”

“Nah,” Tony replies. He'll grovel for Pepper later. “Now listen or we'll have to start it over.”

They watch through the character bios before Steve starts to squirm.

“What? What is it?”

“Is there a reason we're watching this here?”

“You were here, I was here, there's video here. Why, you want to move to the couch?” Steve's gaze darts away like he wishes he hadn't opened his mouth and before he can answer, Tony nudges him with a hip. “Let's move to the couch, this is four hours long, our asses will thank us.”

“Four hours?” Steve says, but moves where Tony guides him. He hesitates when they get to the couch, and Tony isn't about to let him weasel his way out of this now, not when he's got him right where he wants him, so he throws himself down half on top of Steve's lap and calls, “JARVIS, big screen.”

The video immediately picks up where they left off, filling the screen on the wall.

Steve is stiff as a rock under Tony, but he doesn't say anything, possibly because Tony steamrolls over the possibility by beginning to explain the basics of the game while they work out the audio issues. That gets the gears in his souped-up brain turning and when he starts to relax and ask more questions, Tony relaxes, too.

An hour in, Steve's hand is warm on Tony's shoulder and he lets out a low, rusty laugh. Tony all but glows with pride. Okay, so he handled that pretty well, all said and done. He can make this work.

[stardustandbucky]

i can feel my pulse all over my face bc of how warm it got. touch-starved club at it again with the yearning and projecting through reading fics that dont really help physically but heal at least a little

if you’re taking prompts::: touch starved steve and tony “i love to touch” stark ?? you’re writing is all saved on my phone bc i LOVE reading it over and over you’re so talented

Oh this is so, SO nice to read, anon, thank you!!! I’m so glad you enjoy it so much! 😭❤️

I hope you enjoy ~2k words of some very touch-starved, pining Steve having a lot of feelings about Tony <3 

***

“You really saved the day out there earlier, Cap,” Tony says casually. “Thanks again.” He leans over and gives Steve’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze, the kind of casual, friendly touch Steve has seen him give the rest of the team a million times over, but still, he freezes, his whole body going rigid. Steve has seen Tony be this way, but it’s only ever with other people. 

Steve is rarely on the receiving end of Tony Stark’s affection. 

“At ease, soldier, it’s not so out of character for me to pay you a compliment, is it? I thought we were getting better,” Tony says defensively, running his hand down the length of Steve’s arm and misunderstanding him completely. 

Steve coughs a little to cover his surprise. “No, no, it’s not… You’re welcome, Tony, of course. We make a great team,” he says finally. His gaze must linger too long on Tony’s hand, because Tony follows his eyes and immediately snaps his hand away like he’d been burned, folding his arms tight against his chest as if to resist the temptation to touch Steve again.

Wait, Steve desperately wants to say. That’s not what I meant. But the words won’t come, caught in his throat like a paste. Tony’s mouth is a firm line now, and he nods before turning on his heel and leaving the room. 

Wonderful. 

Steve isn’t sure when he realized how little people actually touch him now. He grew up with Bucky always there, and they were never shy with their affection. He didn’t know how accustomed he’d been to Bucky’s playful shoves, his arms around Steve’s shoulder as they walked, his careful hands patching Steve up after yet another street fight, until he was thrust into a world without them. Then there’d been his ma, who was quick to hug and faster to grab his hand, ruffle his hair, showing her love in every maternal touch. Steve was lonely in this new world in a way that was brand new to him, and he didn’t know how to fix it. 

Keep reading

[eshithepetty]

quick warm up doodles of the CGs missing their boy, cause that’s appearantly where my mind is at, currently :”>

[preserumstevesuggestions]

If anyone thought I wasn't already the mushiest bitch in this city I just cried over not having anyone to cuddle with again

[poisonedprose]

touchstarved steve harrington who can't remember the last time he was touched sexually. his hair falling just above his eyes as he panted like there was no air left in the world. his dick is so painfully hard that he might just explode if it rubs his jeans the right way. your hands ever so fucking slowly climbing up his body. "hurry, hurry." his voice is so desperate it's almost pitiful.

[agent-tempest]

My favorite fanfics!

Loki Friggason [Marvel]

Dancing in the dark (with you between my arms) by @holymultiplefandomsbatman [Fluff]

Paper rings by @cherryrogers [Pure fluff]

Back in your arms by @sarahscribbles [starts angsty but happiest fluffiest ending]

Remus Lupin [Marauders Era]

I don't want them. I want you by @theemporium [Fluff, Marriage, Drunk!Remus]

You are in love by @starstruckmoony [fluff]

Red by @jamespottersdaisy [Banter, fluff]

Gold Rush by @jamespottersdaisy [pure fluff]

Hiccups and hijinks by @dreaminginpastels [Plus-size!Reader, fluff, mutual pining, mentions of insecurity and self-doubt]

Jealous Prof!Reader by @turvi [Fluff, wife!Reader]

Let me help by @jamespottersdaisy [bad mental health, eating disorder?, angst]

Remus saying "I love you" to the for the first time by @theemporium [xReader, pure fluff]

Remus taking care of Drunk!Reader by @theemporium [Potter!Reader, Drunk!Reader, Soft Remus]

Remus being soft only with reader near fullmoons by @lizard-onawindowpane [Pure fluff]

Calm after the storm by @earthgirl616 [enemies to lovers, swearing, kissing, mention of blood and wounds]

Pinky Promise by @jamespottersdaisy [Pre and Post Moon!Remus, Remus and reader have a fight]

Our Band Part 1 Part 2 by @wzrd-wheezes [Marauders Band AU, Barista!Reader]

Kaz Brekker [Grishaverse]

Deadly fever by @webslinger-holland [mentions of severe illness, mentions of traumatic childhood, mentions of needles and bloodletting]

Book Club by @rainydaymiscellaneous [fluff, Kaz is in love]

There was this boy... by @mcntsee [Fluff]

Schon by @mcntsee [Kinda ooc Kaz, kaz is ok with y/n’s touch. Stabbing, blood, killing]

Peter Parker [TASM]

Worth Saving by @fettuccin-e [Hurt/Comfort]

Sirius Black [Marauders Era]

I think he knows by @theemporium [potter!reader, fluff, James being a Mood]

Words that slip through by @padfootagain [Fluff, tiny bit of Angst(?)]

For your family by @padfootagain [Fluff, Arrange marriage trope, Soulmate au]

Forced by @sirisuorionblack [Fluff, Arrange Marriage trope, toxic household]

Sirius wants a hug, but doesn't know how to ask by @gtgbabie0 [Fluff, touchstarved Sirius]

Everything has changed by @once-upon-an-imagine [Fluff, Lupin!Reader, Jilly Wedding]

Sirius being jealous of a cat by @theemporium [fluff, jealous!Sirius and *in steve's voice* Language]

A cozy rainy night with Sirius by @theemporium [pure fluff]

James Potter [Marauders era]

Stop flirting with the nurse, it's embarrassing by @perpetuallydaydreaming [Fluff, Siri & Pete being melodramatic]

First Impressions by @jackie5656 [Fluff, Descriptions of assault and attempted assault]

Just to Kiss by @chrryhrt [Frat!James x Reader, Idiots to lovers, friends to lovers, small mention of alcohol]

Regulus Black [Marauders era]

Coward by @sirisuorionblack [Hurt/comfort, Arrange marriage trope, acedemic rivals]

Moon Boys [Moon Knight, Marvel]

Jake Lockley- Cucumber face mask and fist of vengeance by @wysteria-clad [Fluff]

Jack Lockley- dlz by @ichorai [Angst, mild fluff, marriage au]

Marc, Steven and Jake- Clumsy by @marvelsswansong [fluff]

Marc, Steven and Jake- Secret Identities Part 1 Part 2 by @bensolosbluesaber [Fluff, reader is an Avenger]

Benedict Bridgerton [Bridgerton]

Matchmakers by @siempre-bucky [fluff]

Not for him by @iwritefandomimagines [Platonic!Anthony playing matchmaker, Fluff, slight angst]

Second son by @fayes-fics

Druig [Eternals, Marvel]

Druig x Reader by @siempre-bucky [fluff]

Stephen Strange [Marvel]

July 19th by @frostandflamesfanfic [Fluff, Strange being a dad to America]