#could it be muscle or not artist steve

[winterspiderpurrs]

Enhanced Omega Peter Parker. More mutants and enhanced individuals were common place now.

Maybe he decided to capitalize on the attention he would get.

Say...

Opening a gym, with him as an instructor.

All the Alphas signing up for this twink omega to be their instructor or to sign up for classes he offers.

But each Alpha starts getting disappointed that Peter can bench press tour busses with ease. So he isn't impressed with all the showing off these Alphas can do.

Sure it probably gets lonely with Alpha's being too intimidated by him.

No one expects the Alpha that actually ends up courting Peter.

[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

Okay this one's been stuck in my head all day but I have absolutely time to write it so please share this vision with me

Try as they might, Steve and Robin couldn't get tickets to Chrissy Cunningham's arena tour, but they could get tickets to a festival she was playing.

The last thing Steve ever wanted to do was go and stand in a muddy field for sixteen hours while they waited for the headline act. But he was pretty sure Robin was in love with her favourite musician, and he wasn't about to deny his best friend a chance at love.

So he helped her make personalised t-shirts because honestly all the other bands in the line-up kinda sounded like they sucked.

His read, "Only Here for Chrissy" on the front and "I'm Steve" on the back and Robin's read "Chrissy, Will You Be My Girlfriend?" on the front and "If Lost, Please Return To Steve" on the back.

And it turned out, as they stood against the barrier in a not so muddy field, on a lovely, warm, but overcast, May day, that even bands that sucked could be fun. Even if it was only because they spent their day with earplugs in, so their eardrums wouldn't combust, bitching about each artist's lack of ability to put notes or an outfit together.

During the lunchtime intermission, the pair made friends with the lesbian couple next to them, Kayla and Jess, who were also eagerly awaiting Chrissy's set and similarly liked to mock those who committed crimes against sound and fashion. Steve was glad to have met them, they were really nice, and he felt better about leaving her to use the bathroom or to fetch food, knowing Robin was in safe hands.

He also felt better about letting her wander off, not that it stopped him from stressing out when she and Kayla had been missing for over fifteen minutes. He spread himself out to keep their places against the railing with his back to the stage, watching the crowd intently. Jess wasn't quite as chatty once they were alone, but she seemed content enough, bobbing along to the band that'd appeared on the stage.

Steve didn't turn back around to face the stage until he spotted the girls heading back towards them, he gave them a wave and turned around to look at the guys who hadn't been attempting to destroy anyone's hearing and was met with the face of the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen. Pretty face, long curly hair tied up in a bun, muscle tee showing off his many tattoos, piercings and chains and glittery Docs; Steve felt himself owl blink and blush.

God's gift to mankind was kneeling centre stage, guitar in hand making the most beautiful sounds Steve had ever heard as his fingers flew over the strings, and it was only when the rest of the band kicked back in that the man looked up, winked directly at Steve, and then jumped back to his feet, spending the rest of the song bouncing around the stage.

Steve only realised his mouth was agape when Robin finally arrived next to him and elbowed him hard in the ribs, giving him the same look she did whenever he was embarrassing in the club. He watched the rest of the Corroded Coffin, according to the backdrop, set in awe. Screaming and clapping along when they wished everyone a great day, throwing picks and drumsticks into the crowd and taking a bow; patting each other on the back as they wandered offstage.

As soon as it was quiet again, Robin wanted to know what the hell was wrong with his face and honestly, he couldn't answer her. He didn't even believe in love, not for himself at least, and he certainly didn't believe in love at first sight. It didn't stop him from spending the next couple of hours watching the faces at the sides of the stage, hoping to catch a glimpse of his new favourite guitarist, though.

As soon as Chrissy hit the stage, Steve got lost, between filming the set and watching Robin trying not to hyperventilate when Chrissy spotted her t-shirt, pointed to her, and giving her a coy little wink, blew her a kiss.

"An old school friend is here with me tonight, and I'd like him to help me out with this next track. Especially for the beauty in the front row, this is Girlfriend!"

The crowd went wild as the beat kicked in, but Steve was still watching Robin because it looked like she'd stopped breathing altogether. That was until she gasped loudly and started smacking Steve in the way she always did whenever she got overly excited; pointing wildly at the stage, and it was only when he looked over he saw Corroded Coffins guitarist bouncing up and down next to Chrissy.

Instead of the black muscle vest and skinny jeans he'd been sporting earlier in the day, he had changed into pale blue board shorts and a baggy white t-shirt that read "Hey Steve!" written in black sharpie with a giant winking smiley face underneath that could only really be seen when he swung his guitar around his back to copy Chrissy's dance moves.

The song ended, and the friends hugged, Chrissy waving him off the stage and calling out, "Eddie Munson everybody!" letting the crowd go wild for her friend before launching into the rest of her set.

By the time Chrissy had actually left the stage, Robin looked exhausted, having screamed and sung and danced herself out. They hung around a bit, said goodbye to Kayla and Jess, wishing them a safe journey home, and they were just taking one last look at the now empty stage when he heard someone yell his name...

[littleseasiren]

Hypothetically speaking

Summary: Hypothetically speaking, Bucky Barnes is the perfect man. You have a list that proves it. What happens when someone overhears you telling Natasha about it?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff

Words: A drabble at 800 words

"All I'm saying is, hypothetically, Bucky is the perfect boyfriend," you whisper to Natasha over the kitchen table. 

"And why do you think that?"  Her green eyes stare past you, making you nervous for a second before her gaze meets yours. "Hypothetically speaking, of course." Natasha knew how you felt about Bucky but humoured you nonetheless.

You don't hear anything so you continue, "Well, I mean, he's the full package. Just look at what he's like," you chuckle. You lift your thumb as you start counting the points. "He's handsome with his dark hair and his eyes to die for." Your index finger goes up, "He's quiet but authoritative, like the time he saw a guy bothering me at the bar. He didn't hesitate before threatening him with bodily harm if he didn't stop bothering not just me - but all the ladies in the bar." Your middle finger rises, "He's got muscles galore like we've seen when he and Steve burn off extra energy in the gym and take their shirts off." Your ring finger raises, "And he's kind - too kind sometimes. Remember I told you about that time we were stuck in the rain in the middle of nowhere on a mission? He gave me his jacket and stood freezing in the pouring rain for more than an hour while we waited for our pickup." Finally, your pinkie raises, "Then there's the vibranium arm," you say as you drop your hand, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Natasha smirks at the look that crosses your face when you talk about Bucky's prosthetic arm. "What about his arm? Most people would think it's a bad thing."

"Huh, as if! If they think that, then they're stupid. His arm is amazing. The black and gold design makes him look like a masterpiece painting. If I were an artist, I could spend hours watching him, getting every shadow and groove perfectly immortalized on the canvas." You giggle softly before continuing, "He's super strong - even stronger than Steve is, with that arm. He has amazing coordination and precision, and the temperature difference between his human hand and his vibranium hand is awesome. On a hot day, you can hold his left hand without sweating like crazy, and on a cold day, his right hand will be nice and toasty. But the biggest thing?" You take a deep breath, "His arm is vibranium, so I'm 100% sure his arm won't fall asleep like a normal man's when spooning with him in bed. A woman can lie on that arm for hours - I'm sure Bucky won't move an inch. That's the type of man he is..." A dreamy look passes over your face as you imagine yourself in that situation.

A perfect eyebrow raises in question, "Honey, why don't you just tell him you like him?" 

"What? No, I don't! I was speaking hypothetically!" You aren't like Natasha, you can't just walk up to Bucky and confidently tell him you like him. Just thinking about it makes you anxious.

Natasha's smile is huge as a shadow hovers over you, making you feel like your heart is beating out of your chest.

Please, please don't let someone be behind me.

"Hypothetically speaking," a deep, confident voice starts behind you, making you drop your head into your hands, "if I do my best to live up to your expectations, would you go out with me tonight?"

You slowly raise your head, seeing Natasha leave the kitchen quietly and Bucky take her spot opposite you.

Why can't I keep my big mouth shut?

You can't meet his eyes, your cheeks burning with humiliation as your eyes focus on your wiggling hands. "Uh, Bucky, how much did you hear?" 

This time, Bucky's voice is softer, unsure. "Pretty much everything. I know I shouldn't have listened; I couldn't help myself. Not when I heard your hypothetical. How about it, doll? Do you want to go out with me on a date?"

"Bucky, you don't have to do that just because I embarrassed myself. You don't want to go out with me."

You slowly meet his blue eyes, a smirk plastered on his handsome face. "Of course, I want to, doll. I honestly just never thought you would want to go out with me. You're so sweet and beautiful. I just never thought someone like you would be interested in me. Not with all my baggage." His gaze becomes nervous at your hesitation. "If you give me a chance, I promise I'll do my best not to disappoint you."

Can he be any sweeter? "You could never disappoint me, Bucky. You're amazing." 

His face lights up at your honest reply. "So, how about it, doll? Let me take you out on a date. If you play your cards right, I'll let you test your theory on my arm tonight. I promise I won't move an inch if I get to hold you all night long. I won't even cop a feel tonight; I'll be a perfect gentleman, I promise." 

You can't stop from giggling, feeling mischievous. You weren't making stupid promises like that, something he might figure out soon if all goes well. "It's a deal, Sarge," you reply as you grasp his hands, shivering from the hot and cold sensation. 

This is going to be fun. 

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[lexirosewrites]

This is for Slick Sunday!!!

So. I was watching this voice over of some random Tumblr post about how Vampires are to carpenters what furries are for artists(allegedly), bc they can make the ideal coffin for each individual and things like that, and like??? I got inspired. So this is what I have:

Totally established ABO situation, where Steve is an unusual Omega, simply for the fact that after his family disowned him he became a carpenter and if being a jock had given him some muscles, being a carpenter made him ripped.

But no one wants an Omega like that, no matter how sweet he is whether in scent or personality, it also doesn't help that Steve has a shit taste in Alphas.

Anyways, enter Eddie, a Vampire (whether he has a designation and/or what it is up in the air (although I prefer him as an Alpha)) who's looking for a new coffin for his Uncle Wayne, an incredibly old vampire (probably a beta) who met him when he was young and adopted Eddie before turning him at the age of 25 (Eddie was dying, and there wasn't a cure for him yet, but that was Wayne's kid, he couldn't let him die so young), because his Uncle's coffin is like, old, Eddie asked and the thing is a certified antique, it's at least a 100 years old and almost falling apart no matter how much care Wayne puts into it.

So Eddie finds out about this carpenter, the guy has never worked for vampires before, but Robin (a local witch and another Omega) recommended him so strongly Eddie agreed to check him out.

Eddie gets immediately infatuated with Steve, the guy is handsome, with a sweet personality, and a body Eddie just wants to sink his teeth into...

So they get talking about the request, and it ends up being a long collaboration, since Eddie didn't actually go prepared for the appointment, so he keeps visiting Steve to make adjustments to the coffin's design and stuff like that.

And if he also uses that time to get to know Steve better and maybe flirt a little? It's nobody's business.

(and maybe Steve also answers sometimes, with

So anyways, Steve finishes the task and is sad he won't see Eddie again, won't get to bask into his amazingly comforting scent again, thinking that the guy probably will leave him behind like so many other commissioners before him who came by, sweet talked him, that even got him into bed one time, and then left once their product was finished, only to never return.

So When Eddie comes to pick up the finished coffin he finds an incredibly sad Omega , and of course he immediately asks what's wrong, does Steve feel bad, should he call Robin? But Steve is so overwhelmed by this simple show of care that he confesses on the spot.

And Eddie is obviously overjoyed by this, corresponding to Steve in that exact moment, zero doubts in his mind that he'll be with Steve for as long as Steve wants him.

Plus: Steve finds out a week into dating that Eddie is a vampire and is very offended that his boyfriend (soon to be mate) tried to hide something so important from him, meanwhile Eddie is like "Babe. Baby. Sweetheart. I literally asked for a bed coffin, I told you my uncle was more than a hundred years old, I once got into your workshop fully bloodstained, fangs out, because I was running late and my last feeding was rough"

"I thought that was paint from those minis you told me you were working on!"

And then they recreate the twilight meme for the funsies.

(and maybe a long time from now they'll be mates, and Steve will turn into a vampire after being Eddie's part-time bloodbag for years, and they'll have a coven full of kids, some theirs, some adopted, but all of them wholly loved and cherished)

And that's all I have in me rn, I really hope you enjoy Lexi, happy day!

(also, fun fact, halfway through writing this I got so distracted by the romance that I forgot about the ABO part of things, and then I tried to revise it, but I'm not sure I did a good job, this could probably be way more abo than it is, lmaoo)

hehe monsterfucker steve is very dear to me, especially when he’s an omega and willing to submit to an alpha as their prey in more way than one💕

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 6

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Words Count: 2,143

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more

Even though you and Ransom have started talking again, you don’t fully trust him like before. He could have warned you about his family’s plans for you.

If he claims he can't escape from his parents' grasp, you find it hard to believe, knowing how Ransom will stop at nothing to get what he wants. You’ve lost count of how many times he’s bribed people.

This time, you will stay on guard. At least you’ve got the pen drive with you. It’s your insurance in case someone tries to frame you again.

After Ransom left your apartment, you continued packing up all your things. Being a minimalist, you don’t have a lot of stuff, which is helpful. You quickly gather your essential belongings, load them into your car, and leave the city to return to your hometown.

🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️

In the small town, everyone drives the same type of SUV. So, when your red Lamborghini enters the town, it catches everyone's eye. People are amazed, but there’s also a hint of jealousy, especially from Natasha. She grits her teeth when she sees you flaunting your wealth.

Before heading back to your father’s house, you stop at the pawn shop where you sold your Rolex.

You walk into the store and see Mr. Rogers carefully examining a pearl necklace while Steve talks to another customer. You clear your throat to get their attention.

Mr. Rogers looks up and says, “Yes? Oh, Tom’s daughter. I heard you went back to the city.”

You bristle slightly, realizing every move you make is a topic in this town. “I decided to stay a while to take care of my father. I’m here to buy back the watch I sold previously.” You show him a stack of cash.

“I’m willing to pay more,” you add, placing the money on the counter with a firm expression.

Mr. Rogers nods, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of the cash.

Mr. Rogers was impressed with you. “It’s alright. I won’t ask you for more. Wait a second, I’ll get your watch.” Then he called his son, “Steve, could you accompany Y/N?”

'No, don’t leave me,' you thought. There was an awkward moment, but Steve followed what his father said.

He nodded at you, and you did the same. While waiting, you took a good look at him. He looked different, taller, and had put on some muscle. But one thing that stayed the same was the pencil he always kept on his right ear. He’s an artist and always draws, which is why he keeps a pencil nearby.

“Are you still drawing?” you asked.

Steve never thought you would want to talk to him. “Sometimes.”

“You should tell the truth to your dad,” you said.

“The truth?” Steve looked puzzled.

“Your dream of becoming an artist,” you clarified.

Steve widened his eyes, surprised that you remembered.

“Speak up. That’s what I did after I left this town, and everything opened up for me,” you said, then continued, "Not that I care."

Before Steve could respond, his dad appeared with the watch. “Here’s your watch.”

The Rolex, the first luxurious item you ever bought with your own money, was back in your hand. It had been a gamble to sell it, but it was a promise to yourself that you would find a way to get it back.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely. Then you left the store without looking back.

After you left, Steve continued to stare at the door, even though your car was no longer in front of the store. Something you said had ignited a fire in him. He turned to his dad. “I want to say something.”

📄📄📄📄📄

You drove back home, the familiar sights and sounds of your small town easing some of the tension from your shoulders. Unexpectedly, Bucky's car was also there when you arrived.

Tom's face brightened when he heard the car, and he eagerly waited at the front door, greeting you warmly as you entered the house.

“Are you exhausted? Do you want something to eat?” Tom asked with concern, guiding you towards the dining table.

You glanced over and saw Bucky, but you chose to ignore him for the moment. On the table, there were scattered papers and a calculator, indicating some sort of ongoing work.

Tom let out a sigh, gesturing towards the mess, “Ah, it’s messy. I’m helping Bucky with the accounting, although I’m not very good at this.”

Then an idea seemed to strike him. Your father looked at you with hopeful anticipation, his hand reaching out to grasp yours, his gaze shifting to Bucky, “Maybe she could be a temporary auditor at your hotel.”

You and Bucky locked eyes, a mix of surprise and hesitation passing between you. What was this? You had just returned home, and now your dad was suggesting that you help the person who had once bullied you?

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[harmonictechnicality]

model!steve and voice actor!Eddie (part 2)

part 1 here | ao3 link here | the temp is up on this one so like... dni if under 18 pls

Steve spends a lot of his spare time at the gym. Comes with the territory of modeling or whatever. Gotta keep himself strong, without developing bulging muscles. Gotta keep himself toned, without becoming too lean. Somewhat of a balancing act to this media fuckery circus.

Times are changing, yeah maybe. But not for puffy-lipped preps with killer bone structure. Steve still falls under the category of stereotypical Pretty Boy, and he’s chill with that. Fucking owns it.

Most days…

He’s currently cooling down on the treadmill - brisk walk, almost a jog. It’s a good pace for multitasking some adult shit that he needs to get done. Staying hydrated, keeping his photoshoot calendar up-to-date, answering a few emails. Yada yada.

Steve takes a swig of his seaweed (more like arsenic) smoothie. Opens the top email that reads:

The Fallen King - Final Commercial Cut

Right. Steve almost forgot about this particular shoot. Well, tried to repress the thoughts of that mega-douche director who kept referring to Steve’s ass as ‘prime real estate.’ Fucking creep.

He scrolls down to the attached file and slides his headphones back over his ears.

The ad opens with a wide shot of Steve draped over the throne, fog swelling around the bottom of the screen. The music is an eerie cello solo, set to a heavy bassline. 

Just another oversexualized cologne campaign, he thinks. Probably will barely feature the product because they paid big money for Steve’s body. Gotta get their fill of it (ha, they fucking wish Steve would fill them up).

But then the narration rolls into his ears and the room does a somersault. Practically inverts it’s axis at the sound dripping in Steve’s ears:

‘The mighty will fall from grace…’

“Oh shit.” Steve almost wipes out on the treadmill, has to catch his fall on the side bars. His knees are tingling, calves molten and shaky. Already half hard, which is definitely going to be a problem in these flimsy, mesh gym shorts.

‘Forbidden love and public slander…’

But that voice. That tone. That sinful register set in the minor key of Holy Fuck.

‘Will bring them to their knees.’

Alright, that fucking does it. Steve pauses the video before he’s fully tenting-out in a goddamn fitness center. Packs up his shit, chucks the sludge smoothie in the trash, and finds an empty stall. Emphatically locks it.

“Agh, damnit!” Steve's thumb slips over the screen and exits out of the video. It scrolls back to the top of the email - a new message has been added to the chain.

Seriously, what obnoxious fucker does ‘Reply All’ these days?

The new message reads:

Great work, team. (Sorry for being such a vocal slut.)

(… Not that sorry though.) - Eddie Munson

That’s right - the voice artist. Almost didn’t recognize the voice, but the repressed memory of that day comes flying to the surface when Steve sees the name. 

He recalls the guy being objectively cute too. Not in the California ‘sun-kissed skin’ kind of way. More in the Seattle ‘rain forces me to be a pale homebody’ kind of way. His eyes were something else though. They reminded Steve of the sepia tone filters he used in his early modeling portfolio. No way in hell Steve could ever forget knockout eyes like that.

The locker room is empty. Steve reopens the video, raises the volume high enough to mute out the thin hum from the air conditioning unit. Only wants to hear Eddie’s voice. That’s it. 

He’s already touching himself when the first phrase falls out of the headphones. Can’t even help it now that he’s alone. It’s all too good. Works himself up all stuffy and sensitive by the time the new part comes up:

‘Drenched in their guilt. Soaked in their shame.’

Fucking christ.

‘Choking on worthless confessions…’

Nope. Nope. Absolutely not. Choking? Worthless? What is this, a sado hotline? Steve feels the heat spreading on his neck, flushed over in a non-exercise way. There’s a thump in his dick, has to squeeze his fingers around it. Like his body needs a reminder to calm the fuck down.

‘Until all that is left of them is desolate darkness.’

Pretty sure the raspy exhale after every phrase is going to do Steve in, saturate his last ounce of dignity with want. Eddie’s breathing is taking Steve’s breath away, and that’s an outright mindfuck. Earfuck. 

Something is getting fucked, and somehow, Steve still needs more.

While the song sustains, Steve strokes himself to the percussive rhythm. 

‘The Fallen King. The scent of secrets.’

The hiss on the last syllable fades into the music till everything fizzles out, going dead silent.

Well, everything goes silent except for Steve, who is utterly rattled. Can hear his dense breath and it’s way too noisy for a public space. The pulse in his neck is irregular, hitched the fuck up. His smartwatch is buzzing, alerting him that his heart rate is elevated, which duh. His whole body feels like it underwent some sexual awakening in the middle of a fitness center. 

And, sure. That’s a common place for people to realize how gay and desperate they are, but not like this. Not with zero visuals of sweaty bodies. 

Before he starts the video over to… finish the job, a phone call lights up his screen. Because of course it does.

He reads the name and swipes it open. “What’s up, Buckley?”

“I need coffee.” Robin whines, already pouting into the phone speaker no doubt. 

“You always need coffee.”

“Yeah but like… it tastes better when you buy me coffee.”

“Oh, so you want to mooch off of your own client?” Steve teases because he can. They can annoy the shit out of each other and write it off as endearment. “Pretty unprofessional of you, Ms. Manager.”

Robin groans. Makes it a long one too - probably to show off both her annoyance and lung capacity. “Fuck all the way off, you were my friend first. Always friends first.”

“Always friends first.” Steve agrees. She’s right, usually is about most things. Robin has been his manager since his last agency went bankrupt from pouring their funds into promoting Fyre Fest. And everyone knows that turned out to be an entire fuckshow.

Honestly, it’s easier this way - Robin being his manager. They get to hang out more, he has more input on gigs that he’s interested in…

Interested in. Huh. The metaphorical lightbulb flicks on in Steve’s voice-drunk brain. Having his best friend as his manager is also convenient when Steve needs the phone number of a certain co-worker.

“Alright, fine.” Steve has a sly grin on as he talks. “I’ll bring over some coffee.”

“Thank god.”

“If!”

“Ugh.”

He huffs out a laugh. “If you can send me the cast and crew contact sheet from the Fallen King commercial.”

“Ew, why?” Robin asks, sounds totally repulsed. Valid, that shoot was Objectification Station.

But truly, Steve’s not in the mood to make up an excuse. He’s sore and sweaty and half-hard. So he just gets to the damn point. “Look, do you want coffee or not?”

“Okay okay.” That’s one way to speed up the process. Caffeine threats - works every time. “Dropping the file to you now.” 

“You’re the best.” Steve sings.

“I know, I know.” And the line clicks dead.

Okay. This is not a booty call, it’s not.

Steve is just texting a semi-stranger to tell him that his voice is potentially the hottest thing he’s ever heard. Okay, he’ll definitely phrase it better than that, maybe throw a few emojis in there to normalize the tone. Soften it up to sound very un-stalkery.

Yeah. Not a booty call. And if Eddie happens to send an audio message, and Steve happens to jerk off to it… still not a booty call, right?

Pathetic, maybe. But not basic, thank fuck.

He types, then re-types the message out way too many times before settling on this:

Steve: Great work on the commercial voiceover! Got ur number from the call sheet. hope that’s cool.

Steve hits send before realizing he didn’t have the goddamn common sense to introduce himself. He’s not even a rookie at hookups, why is he suddenly so frazzled by this guy?

“This is Steve by the way…” he mumbles into an audio message. Hits send, then quickly makes another:

“The… model guy.”

The model guy? What in the flustered hell is going on with him?

A chime notification goes off maybe two minutes after Steve sends the last message. Which is like… hot. Shameless fast texters are a millennial turn-on, for sure.

It’s a voice text, so Steve takes thirty seconds to calm down whatever involuntary throb just happened in his sweatpants. He sucks in some air and presses play:

“Pretty sure all the kids these days just send a ‘u up’ message to people they wanna dick down at midnight.”

Damn. Eddie’s voice sounds totally different, but just as sexy. Like amateur porn sexy. Is amateur audio porn a thing? It should be.

Steve quickly saves the audio file and types back.

Steve:  Ok pls don’t mention ‘kids’ while I’m trying to flirt with u

Eddie: Waitwaitwait So we're definitely flirting right now? I actually interpreted that correctly?

Steve: Like u said It’s midnight So… *shrug emoji*

And a phone call comes through. Eddie’s contact name flashing in a harsh light, too blinding and too unexpected. Steve’s heart is hammering at his rib cage, suddenly so fucking nervous. He waits until the last ring to answer, buys himself some time cause god knows, he needs it.

Steve takes a breath and swallows. “He-”

“Okay, so you do realize this is the sewer rat voice actor guy from the commercial shoot, right?” Eddie interrupts, sounds out of breath. “And not like… a fellow model or Timothee Chalamet’s cousin or something?”

That earns a hearty laugh and eye-roll from Steve. “He is so not my type.”

“Thought he was everyone’s type.”

“Nah.” Steve rolls onto his belly, very giddy and disarmed by the ease of the exchange. His nerves are set aside, replaced with his usual confidence. “More into sewer rat voice actor guys.”

“That… is some very specific criteria.” Eddie coughs or maybe it's just a dry laugh. He sounds pleased as hell, so laugh seems more likely. “Holy shit, I’m flirting with a model!”

“You’re cute." Steve should not be so charmed right now, but the impulsive honesty is really doing it for him. "Dorky, but cute.” 

Eddie mumbles something incoherent, then clears his throat. Speaks quieter this time. “So why’d you text?”

“So why’d you call?”

“Just, uh… needed confirmation that this is real life.”

Steve lets out a ‘hmm,’ thinks of a proper response to that. “If I was there, I could pinch you. Ya know... so you’d know it’s real.” Okay. Maybe not proper, but whatever. It’s late. His brain is half scrambled from hormones and exhaustion, cut him some slack.

“Would do a lot more than pinch you if you were actually here.” And sure, Eddie might have mumbled that, but Steve clearly heard it. He heard exactly what Eddie just suggested.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Fuck, we’re doing this?” Eddie whispers.

Steve turns onto his back again, lets his hand wander down. “If you’re into that. Like hearing your voice, Eddie.”

“Like hearing you say my name like that.” And Eddie sounds like he means it. His tone is smoothing over, the same way it did in the narration. “You sound so worked up already.”

Steve moans, chest falling hard enough that the phone slips. Has to reposition it to get all that good vocal seduction back in his ear.

“God, wish I could see what you look like right now.” Eddie exhales, getting that nice rasp that Steve likes so much. It’s sultry and rich. Breathless at just the right moments. “Bet you’re lying down, aren’t you? Phone wedged between your neck and ear cause your hands are too busy to hold it properly. Am I right?”

“Yeah.” Steve pushes past the waistband of his sweatpants, then his boxers.

Eddie hums. Growls. “The things I’d do to you like that. Lying down, looking so eager to please. Saw how good you are at taking direction that day of the shoot. Does that apply in the bedroom too, baby?”

“It… fuck.” Steve strokes himself slowly. Can barely get the words out cause it feels like he's chewing on Eddie's voice. Swallowing every syllable. “Yeah, it does.”

“See - that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“Problem?”

“That I don’t know what you’re into. How you like it.”

“Pretty open to… trying things.” Steve reassures, eyes closing to soak in every sensation. “Just keep talking.”

And thank all that is holy, Eddie does just that. He keeps talking. “Can’t stop thinking about that pretty neck of yours. How I’d kiss it, suck on it till your skin goes tender and soft under my lips. Till your head rolls back like it did in that video.”

Eddie's words are syrup. Heavy and tempting. “I’d let you rest it on my shoulder while I get my hands all over you. See what sweet spots drive you wild, get you to squirm for me.”

Steve's grip tightens, pumping at a pace that’s close to getting fucked. A pace that makes it easier to pretend that it’s Eddie’s hand wrapped around him, making his vision blurred and spotty - even with his eyes screwed shut.

“Eddie, you’re… oh my god.” Steve whines, knows it must be pretty fucking loud with the speaker smushed against his cheek. “You’re so good at this.”

Eddie shushes him, sounds like he’s snickering a bit. “I’d tease you like that until your thighs start to tremble. Until you beg me to go further. End the torture.”

“Fucking christ…please.” Guess Steve really is that good at taking direction. Or maybe he’s extra easy for guys that turn his brain into liquor. Too busy begging to know which one it might be. “Keep going.”

Eddie’s laugh is dark and rough. “Sounds nice hearing you beg like that. Like sin.”

Feels like sin too. 

Steve’s fingers are slicked nicely with precome. The friction of his palm is making everything warmer, better. And stirring all of those feelings up with Eddie’s voice? Fucking hell, Steve is close. He’s so damn- “Okay, okay. If we don’t stop, I’m gonna-”

“I know.” Eddie purrs, sweetly mean. “Thought that was the point.”

“Cannot believe I'm about to say this, but maybe…” Steve has to dig his hand out from his boxers to complete the sentence. Knocks his head against the wall because his behavior is totally batshit right now. “Maybe I want to see you again first? Is that weird?”

His skin sort of tingles from going this long without finishing. Never solved the blue-balling issue back at the gym either, so Steve’s on the verge of climax insanity right now. Didn’t think he’d discover an edging kink at the ripe age of twenty-five, but eureka. Here it is.

“Not weird.” Eddie’s voice returns back to a calmer one. The one that doesn’t make Steve want to bend over and get fucked so hard that his organs shift around. “I mean, I’m weird, sure. But wanting to complete this in person is not weird. Very un-weird, in fact.”

“You talk a lot.”

“Yeah well… voice actor.” Eddie says, sort of deadpan. “You couldn’t see that, but I just did ‘razzle dazzle’ hands.”

Shit, Steve really likes this guy. He just used the phrase ‘razzle dazzle hands,’ and Steve is still horny for him. Wow.

“Is tomorrow too soon?” Steve manages to say before overthinking it.

“Tomorrow-tomorrow, or like today-tomorrow?” Eddie asks. “Cause it’s past midnight.”

Right. Booty call time moves at an entirely different pace than normal time does. “Today-tomorrow. If you’re free.”

“Free as a dead composer’s anthology of music.” Eddie answers happily.

Steve opens his mouth to respond, then shuts it because what? What does that even mean? Is that a yes or a no? Goddamnit, his head hurts. Too many questions, not enough orgasms.

“Most classical music is royalty-free.” Eddie clears his throat, sounds like he’s tapping on something. “… So yeah. I’m free.”

“Right.” Steve chuckles, hard to believe he’s unapologetically gushing. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Eddie.”

“Great. See you today, Steve.” Eddie is still snorting at his own joke while the call ends.

They haven’t sorted out any of the details yet, but it doesn’t matter. It’s happening. It’s real.

So real, that he wants an actual date with Eddie before steamy phone sex. He wants to make Eddie laugh before making him come. That's like... unheard of for Steve. Uncharted.

Damn.

Today-tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

could you do the gang attempting to do female readers makeup for her?? 🫶🏻

Summary: The greaser attempt to do your makeup.

Warnings: none

Authors note: sorry that uploading has been spotty, I'm just in such a slump rnn but like what's new

PONYBOY would actually be pretty darn good at makeup. You would question where he got this cosmetic knowledge from but he says he's just got a steady hand and some artistic abilities. He actually eats down every time he does your eyeliner, you almost want to ask him to always do it for you. He's also down to let you try out products on him, as long as you guys aren't going anywhere. He likes feeling close to you and you doing his makeup gives him tingles.

JOHNNY would be OK at normal makeup things, but lip liner, eyeliner and mascara would be actual he'll with him because his hands are always shaking slightly. It's not like he's afraid it's just that he has really unsteady hands and isn't super artistic. He gets mascara and eyeliner everywhere so you end up layering and layering concealer under your eyes. He really likes doing it though, he sees why you do it so often because it's kind of fun seeing everything come together. He gets really happy if you actually wear the makeup he did out instead of wiping it off.

SODAPOP would usually watch his mom get dolled up when he was young, he's got some really sweet core memories about it. He'd prefer to just watch you do your makeup but he'd love to blend your foundation and stuff like that because he thinks beauty blenders are an absolute marvel. Him doing your makeup always ends in a bunch of giggles and a crazy new eyeliner and eyeshadow look. He's actually pretty artistic and can be really good, but he tries to make everything crazy.

STEVE is terrible at makeup, he knows what to do but he just can't figure out how to use each product. He tried to apply your foundation with your powder puff and you had to shriek to get him to not. You have to slowly walk him through everything, showing him what each thing does like a salesperson. He asks you to help him get better so he could do your makeup more often so you give him a couple of old products to practice with. Sodapop walks into work the next day with a full face done by Steve.

TWO BIT knows what he's doing somewhat. His sister has that kids makeup kit and he sees her apply her glittery eyeshadow everyday. He tries to help you but everything is a lot different than a kit, he smears your lip product all over his hands by accident because he thought it was one of those pot ones where you pick up the product with your fingers. He's also super clumsy, especially with the dark coloured things, like for example, he missed the tube of the mascara and ends up getting products along the side of it and on his fingers. The next day he brings his sisters makeup kit and does your glittery eyeshadow which he is much better at.

DARRY knows what to do, but he fumbles because he gets nervous. He dropped your blush onto his carpet and stained it. He felt super bad for wasting product and staining his rug but you promised it was fine and that after he did your makeup you could clean it together. He's actually very good at giving you a nice and put together look. The eyeshadow and lip colour he chose complimented your hair and eyes perfectly. Secretly, while he wasn't paying attention, you got some blush and patted it on his cheeks. He was immediately nostalgic because his mom used to do that and you brought back a core memory for him.

DALLAS is terrible at makeup. You'd think with the amount of girls he wooed he would know a thing or two but he's completely oblivious. He tried to put contour as your foundation before realizing it didn't match your face colour and then tried to use highlighter. After the first few times he actually became some what of a pro and started swiping high-end luxury cosmetics. Sometimes he also steals your contour to make himself look cooler and define his muscles and jawline.

[oublie-eden]

Captain's Orders (Steve Rogers/Reader)

📍NSFW, please don't interact if you're a minor📍

Content: Military kink, light dom/sub dynamic, praise kink, fingering + eating out, smut but it gets a little tender, reader is written as AFAB but no pronouns are used, bearded Steve for the pookies

Words: 2,628

You were late. At this point, you weren’t even fashionably late. You were ‘Wow, look at the time, I’ve gotta get home’ late. The last you’d checked, the time on your car’s dashboard had read a little after 3 AM as you drove home from an outing with your friends.

Parking at your apartment’s garage, you made your way up to the flat you shared with your boyfriend, Steve. Given the hour, you expected him to be asleep in bed. You had, after all, sent him a text that you’d be out a little later and for him not to wait up on you. Unlocking the door, you slipped in, nudging your shoes off and onto the rack by the door. The flat was dark and quiet except for a shaft of moonlight which had managed to find its way through a crack in the blackout curtains. Needless to say, you nearly jumped out of your skin when Steve’s smooth baritone voice reverberated through the kitchenette.

“Back so soon?” Tilting his head so far back that you could almost call it a loll, he flicked on the light, revealing him leaned languidly against the counter. That wasn’t quite true. Languid would imply that he was relaxed, though every line of Steve’s posture radiated warning. He sipped at a mug of coffee, his blue eyes keen on yours over the rim.

You couldn’t help it: you blinked in confusion. “Huh? I texted that I’d be back late.”

“No, sweetheart, you didn’t.”

“Really, I could’ve swore that….” Tugging your phone from your pocket, you thumbed through the various icons until you found your texts. Your lips parted in surprise as you opened the chat. The message sat, unsent, with a glaring red ‘Draft’ hovering by it. “Oh, shit.”

Setting the empty mug in the sink, he stood and crossed his arms across his broad chest in the way that only he could. Steve’s brows creased in that concerned little movement he always did. “Where were you? You said you’d text if you were going to be out late.”

“Um, I just…got caught up in talking.” You gnawed at your lip and glanced away from him. “We stopped at a 24 hour diner and sat there for a bit.”

A long sigh left his lips and you found yourself oddly entranced by the way his mouth turned downwards at the corners. It wasn’t the kind of mouth you’d call lush or even sensual, but hell if his frown of disapproval didn’t make something rise in you. “You went out at 9, and now you’re back.” His large fingers twitched at his sides. “Do you know what time it is? Do you know how worried I was?”

Even now, his voice was rich as syrup, smooth and full-bodied. Cautiously, you demurely looked up at him through your lashes and decided to pull the subservient card. Though Steve had never said as such, you’d long had a theory that he’d enjoy you calling him by his old rank. “No, Captain.”

Steve’s breath hitched and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. It seemed your little theory was correct. Your eyes trailed the cords of muscle that made up his neck. Something about Steve had always reminded you of a carved god, freed from the marble block by the hands of a master artist. Idly, you wondered whose work he reminded you of. Bernini, maybe? That seemed about right from your art classes, but you didn’t have much time to consider the idea. “...What did you just say?” His tone swung low, daring you to repeat yourself.

“I said, no, Captain.”

“Then maybe I should show you how worried I was.” His jaw clenched subtly, but he analyzed you from head to toe like he had all the time in the world. “Is that alright, doll?”

You didn’t even have to think before the next words popped out of your mouth. “Yes, sir.”

That did it. Steve’s body moved, fluid as a dancer’s, to stand at attention. “What’s your safe word?”

“It’s ‘red’.”

Steve arched one thick eyebrow at you and your cheeks heated. He didn’t even have to speak to correct you.

“It’s ‘red’, sir.” You enunciated the last word just to see the muscle in his jaw flex. Among the many things your boyfriend was good at, he was particularly excellent at making you breathless with the simplest motions of his face.

His stare turned assessing again and you could practically see the gears turning in his head. When he said your name, his tone was almost sweet, though it quickly swung into an authoritative snap. “Attention.”

Your mind stalled before finally, your horny brain realized what he was requesting-no, ordering you to do. You stood up straight, arms at your sides, trying to keep your gaze directed forward and not look at your boyfriend. The heat of his body washed over you like a wave as he moved to stand behind you. Steve had once given you a demonstration of the various commands, but damn, it’d been a while and you were eager to follow his every word.

“Don’t move, love, and don’t speak unless I ask you a question.” He bent his head, his chapped lips ghosting over your cheek. He dipped lower to graze a kiss along the soft spot right behind your jaw and the slight prickle of his beard sent a shock right to your core. You must have jolted because he sighed. “I said, don’t move.”

Obediently, you stood still, and his hum of appreciation rumbled against your skin. “There we go. You’re so good for me, so gorgeous when you follow orders.” His mouth continued its path down your neck and you had to press your lips together to avoid letting out a pathetic mewl of arousal. He chuckled and despite not being able to see him, you knew he was smiling at you fondly. “Someone seems a little uncomfortable. Parade rest.”

You almost tripped over your own feet in your haste to obey. Spreading your feet to hip width apart, you folded your hands behind your back. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were silently grateful he had afforded some measure of release as far as your posture was concerned. He clicked his tongue and nudged your feet further apart with one of his boots. “Better.” In a single stride, he stood in front of you. A bolt of surprise went through you and he offered up a reassuring smile. Even in this persona, he was gentle with you.

Kneeling on the floorboards, his hands found your hips, and then his deft fingers were lowering the zipper of your pants. You stifled a jump when he tugged the fabric down around your thighs. His index finger traced a path over your barely clothed skin and lightly stroked the fabric between your thighs, which felt like it was growing wetter by the second.

“Already? I’ve barely started.” Steve teased, and your underwear joined the pile of discarded clothing. He groaned low in his throat at the sight of your exposed pussy and nuzzled against the triangle of curls that crowned it. “You’re so beautiful.”

In a moment of weakness, you whimpered, a plea for him to hurry up. “Captain…” Your indiscretion was met by a light swat to your ass, a reminder to keep quiet. You pressed your lips together and Steve hummed appreciatively, the sound rumbling through you.

“There we go.” His hands tightened their grip on your hips as he buried his face in your cunt, his beard grazing over your swollen folds, letting his tongue trail a stripe between them. Teasingly, he pressed a kiss to the skin above your clit purely for the joy of feeling you shudder in anticipation. If you hadn’t been so incredibly turned on by all this, you’d have begged him to stop teasing you. In a moment of mercy, he delicately circled your clit with the tip of his tongue and gave it a flick. Your eyelids fluttered, desperately trying not to close. Maybe you should stay out later more often if this was what happened after. Steve was a man who was fastidious in everything he did, and fucking you was no exception.

Continuing to lavish licks and sucks on you, he mumbled half heard praises between your legs, groaning in ecstasy as if he was the one being worshipped. “Fuck…you taste so good…I could do this forever, sunshine, if you’d let me.”

Your thighs trembled beneath the onslaught and he simply grasped your thighs in his calloused palms and tugged them over his shoulders. You whined in surprise as your feet left the ground and he balanced you on his broad shoulders like you weighed nothing, your hands fisting in his sandy blond hair. Steve should have punished you for that, but he was too far gone in the heady taste and scent of you, feasting on you like he was a man starved for water in the desert.

“Oh, I remember you liked this last time…” He mumbled, and his teeth grazed over your sensitive bundle of nerves, immediately before plunging his tongue deep in you. Nearly wailing, you bucked your hips harder against his face. Steve groaned, an almost primal sound, and you had a brief moment’s satisfaction at knowing America’s golden boy captain was on his knees devouring you with abandon. Your thighs clamped around his head and you tugged harder on the strands captured in your fingertips at the familiar heat building in you.

“Stevie, please, I’m gonna…” You panted, trying to voice the simple phrase. “Please?”

“I know, baby, I know. Relax, let me take care of you.”

He kept on with his unrelenting pace, even when you squirmed and moaned, his grip on your thighs steady. You threw your head back, lips parted to beg, but you didn’t even know what you were asking for at this point. Your pussy convulsed as you climaxed, but Steve didn’t stop. His licks and kisses gradually slowed until he gently let you fall into his waiting arms. Your arousal was smeared across his lips and in his beard, but he was grinning triumphantly.

“Please just fuck me?” You whispered, your hand coming up to cup his cheek.

“I was hoping you’d ask that.” He was already standing and carrying you to the bedroom. Your lips met his and you hummed at the taste of yourself that lingered on him. Kicking the door closed behind him, he dropped you onto the bed. You pouted as he pulled back, but he only chuckled. “Be patient. I can’t exactly do this with clothes on.”

Steve kicked off his boots and nudged his jeans to the floor. Reaching behind him, he tugged his shirt up and over his head, leaving him in only his briefs. You couldn’t help but stare at him, the rounded muscles of his pecs, the thighs thickened with muscle, the fine honey-coloured trail of hair that led down his navel and disappeared beneath his waistband. Fuck, you wanted to map every tantalizing centimeter of that trail with your mouth. You leaned forward, intent on getting what you wanted, but he gently pressed a hand to your chest and pushed you back onto the bed.

You huffed up at him and his ensuing look made your breath catch in your throat. His expression dared you to move without permission again. “Do you want me to fuck you or not, doll?”

“Yeah…” Ducking your head, you squirmed, tossing your own shirt aside. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“I know you will. You’ve got a smart mouth on you, but you like being good for me, don’t you?” His fingers tilted your chin up and you could only nod silently. “Atta baby.”

Guiding your hands to his hips, he crooked your fingers under his waistband and you eagerly pulled the material down his legs. His cock sprang free and for a moment, you simply stared at it. As many times as you two fucked, you had to wonder how much work the serum had done, because Steve was hung. Long and thick, it was nestled in a neatly trimmed patch of that same honey-coloured curls, the veins prominent and begging to be licked. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like Steve was going to let you suck his dick tonight. Bummer.

Before you could be too bummed out, he retrieved a condom from the nightstand and tore the packaging open, rolling the latex down over his length. He lay back on the bed and gave you an encouraging nod, patting his thighs in a silent request. You obliged, straddling his hips and brushing your folds over his cock. Steve let his head fall back against the pillows and he gripped your hip, letting you brace your weight against him. Slowly, you sank down onto him, groaning at how he filled you just right.

He matched your groan with one of his own, his angelic face contorted with pleasure. You allowed yourself a moment to acclimate, but quickly, your ass slammed up and down against his thighs in a punishing pace. His frame shuddered and he put your hands on his pecs. “You think you can come again for me, sweetheart?”

“Uh…uh-huh.” You bit your lip, bringing your hips up only to clamp around him with your cunt again. His fingers slid between you and he stroked your already overstimulated clit, circling it with the pad of his thumb. You mewled, your nails raking down his chest in a way you knew would leave marks in the morning, but you couldn’t find it in you to care when Steve felt like this.

His other hand guided your hips, bringing you down onto his cock and his caressing fingers, over and over again, the way the sea returns to the shore. You buried your face in his shoulder, biting down into the firm muscle of his neck, tasting the salt on his skin. He gasped and increased the pressure of his ministrations. “That’s it, use me, fuck yourself on me.”

And who were you to deny such a simple request? Your hips returned home to his like they’d been made to nestle there, a breathy “oh” escaping you at the slick feeling of each inch pounding into you. The heat rose again and your nails carved more gouges over his chest.

“I…I’ll…”

“I know, come for me. Let yourself go.” You convulsed around him, crying out, and he stroked you through the aftershocks. He moved to lift you off of him, but your hand shot out, gripping his hair.

Your eyes stared fiercely into his. “No, cum in me.” He swallowed, fucking himself up into you. Eyes half lidded, his hands cupped yours where they lay on his chest, and he pressed a kiss to the palm of your hand.

“Fuck, shit, you feel so good.” Rasping the words, he pinned your hips down against his as his back arched off the bed. He made a low, broken sound when he came and collapsed amidst the rumpled sheets. You smiled at him, brushing the sweaty strands of hair from his forehead, and he gave you a smile of such complete and utter adoration that it made your heart melt.

He chuckled to himself and grinned, all pearly teeth. “You know, I’m still not pleased you came home late.”

“Shit, if that’s you ‘not pleased’, I’ll do it more often.”

“Mm, maybe you should.” The two of you lapsed into a contented silence, your hands now gentle as you cleaned the sweat and arousal away, curled into each other. Steve pressed a drowsy kiss to the top of your head and you let yourself drift off, safe and warm.

[ronearoundblindly]

For the dirty A-Z headcanon game can I get an A for Steve Rogers?

From this ask game, and I love you to the end of the line, anon, because this is pretty much THE one I wanted to answer...

A - Alone Time

How does he get off when all by himself?

Does he watch porn?

Is it all in his imagination?

Does he jerk off?

Does he use toys?

In case it wasn't obvious... MINORS DNI (vaguely coded to be gender neutral for the possibility of steve x reader or stucky or whatever your flavor)

Here we go, babes. I know I've written several different versions of Steve in various universes, but this is gonna be more generalized and not involve the very specific background experiences I've written into other things. This is just my good ol' fashioned headcanon of Steve masturbating!

This man takes his time--or at least would prefer to--even when it's just him. He will gently touch/play with himself for a while before grabbing his dick. Grazing his nails over his thighs. Pinching his nipples. I think this dude really has a thing with his throat? Like he thinks about teeth along his neck or being pulled forward by it and, yes, a squeeze or two. Don't flame me, I'm just saying!

He craves foreplay, is what I mean, and I don't think Steve feels fully aroused unless more than just his genitals are involved in the act, ya know?

He watches porn, but only for examples. There's a whole lot in modern pornography that is a huge turn-off for him. Steve uses certain imagery or sounds/sayings that he found in porn and kinda edits them together for his pleasure later--like mentally edits, lord knows, because that man would not get the hang of Final Cut Pro OR iMovie, feel me?--plus that way he can imagine a certain someone's voice actually saying those things to him or doing them to him.

Which brings us to Steve's imagination which is unbelievably vivid and runs rampant. Think about it: he's a strategist. He has to see tons of possible scenarios play out all at once, analyze where that leads and where that leaves him, and then plan to thwart or redirect all that happens into an ideal outcome. Don't tell me that artist does not have an incredible mind's eye.

Then we get to Steve finally touching himself expressly to come.

He's toyed with himself for a while, maybe gotten close but held back, probably enjoyed finding friction not with his fist. For some reason, I thoroughly believe he has a thing for fabrics? This guy enjoys the glide of silk and satin. I bet his sheets are nice and slick so he can thrust against them a little and think of a pretty skirt or a dressy, formal glove.

Actual toys? Like the kind advertised as sex toys? Like the kind he'd have to purchase with money in some capacity? No. I think shy Steve hasn't figured out a way to discreetly (and by that I mean, untraceably) do that. He refuses to use anything online attached to his name--credit card or secondary/digital wallet whatever--to buy something or to tell someone what he would want them to buy for him because then that person would know! He'd keel over from embarrassment right then and there!! ARE YOU INSANE?!?!

No. What Steve will do is get seemingly useful things for innocuous reasons and play dumb blond if anyone ever insinuates it could be a sex toy. That man can and will absolutely lie like a champ to keep those secrets. That man is a super soldier but his muscles still get sore; that's what the massager is for, not his taint, nuh-uh no how. How dare you ask him!

Which brings us to the climax: his climax.

Steve prefers to finish in the shower. He's spent all that time enjoying the feel of his hands or various textures, the dry (but not painful) drag of everything before the slick lubrication of lotion or conditioner creates a welcome high under the spray of water, and then, yes, he can clean himself right off afterward. Highly efficient. Also very effective at training his brain to get off quickly in a shower if necessary.

Strategy, you guys, it's all about strategy.

Thank you for asking!

A/N: Are my answers to these like an audition for the Shameless Hoe Club? Maybe. Or maybe Ro has just lost the ability to filter herself...or care 🤭

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 1

Hello, everyone! Welcome to the story that has had my entire weekend on lock. Like every spare moment was writing this story. I wrote over 6000 words in two days. So yeah. Don’t worry. I’m still working on Boy With a Bat (I just need time to research season 3 so I don’t over step on the show’s timeline {like I did with “Little Runaway”}). And of course I love working on “All My Roads Lead Back to You” and will continue working on it as well. Also these first two parts are long. I don’t know if all the parts will be as long, but as you can see when you read them there isn’t a lot of places to stop (and not make them super short).

Summary: No Monster Modern AU. Eddie and his band, Corroded Coffin, have a steady gig at a bar in Indy where they play every weekend. Eddie's life takes a left turn when his regular tattoo artist, Max Mayfield, moves to New York with her boyfriend Lucas Sinclair, newly traded to the New York Knicks.  Now needing a new tattoo artist, Jeff recommends "Royal Pain", which even Max agrees is a good shop.  On arrival, Eddie is shocked to find Steve is the shop's artist.  They hit it off, and slowly move from the barest of acquaintances to boyfriends.

***

“God damn it!” Eddie growled, throwing his phone at the sofa and snarling when it bounced to the floor.

“One day you’re gonna throw it so hard and it will break,” Gareth grumbled from behind his drum set.

It was Corroded Coffin’s weekly practice. They weren’t big or anything, but they had a steady gig at a local metal bar and it paid good money. They drew large enough crowds that they were able to play their own music.  

Eddie hopped to his feet to retrieve the discarded phone from the floor. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered darkly.

“What’s got your panties in such a twist?” Jeff asked from the same sofa Eddie had tossed the phone at. He was tuning his guitar, ear bent toward the strings.

Eddie scoffed. “Like you have any interest in my panties.”

Jeff lunged and grabbed one of Gareth’s drumsticks from the bucket he kept at his side and threw it at Eddie.

“Hey!” both Gareth and Eddie protested.

“Just answer the damn question!” Brian sneered from his place on the battered old floral armchair. “You usually like bitching, so what’s your deal?”

Eddie flopped gracelessly on the lavender two-seater.  “That was my tattoo artist,” he groused, crossing his arms petulantly. “Her boyfriend got traded to the New York Knicks so they are moving there and if I want to get my dragon finished before she leaves, I better ‘haul ass’ according to her.”

Eddie’s friends winced. They knew finding a tattoo artist you could trust in a style you liked was hard. And for Eddie to lose his? That sucked. Max Mayfield was one of the best in Indy and to lose her to New York? That was even worse. But her boyfriend, Lucas Sinclair, was an NBA raising star and she went where did. Which meant Eddie had to start all over with a new artist.

Suddenly Eddie straightened up. “Hey, Jeffie!” he said. “Did you ever get that tattoo you wanted done?”

Jeff lit up. “Oh yeah!” He set his guitar aside and rolled up his sleeve and showed them his tattoo. It was of a bullet tearing through the flesh. It was fantastically rendered, where you could see the torn muscles and broken bone. It covered the scar there perfectly. “Isn’t it fucking amazing?”

“Holy shit!” Brian cried. “That is so wicked.”

Eddie leaned forward, eyes wide with wonder. “Yeah fuck, man. Where did you get that?”

“It’s this little place called Royal Pain,” Jeff explained. “The artist, Stevie is so fucking good.”

Eddie chewed on his lip, thinking hard. “Hey, can I get the number?”

*

Eddie was standing in front of a shop that he wouldn’t have in a million years would have even suspected was a tattoo parlor. It was a clean and bright storefront. The sign was black with a golden crown was on the R. It was a far cry from any other tattoo parlor he had ever been to. But despite his reservations, both Max and Jeff highly recommended this place and specifically this ‘Stevie’.

Sighing deeply, he yanked open the door and took two steps into the shop. The decor was nice enough, it had a ‘royal’ theme to it, he supposed, but he really didn’t look that much. Because suddenly Eddie knew who Stevie was. The name, the royal decor, and Robin fucking Buckley as receptionist.

He was going to kill Jeff. Or maybe just his next three D&D characters. Because there was no way on this insignificant planet did Jeff Lawrence not recognize King Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. They had all gone to school together. Robin was Steve’s best friend. His soulmate if the rumors were to be believed.

He was about to turn around and walk out, Jeff and Max’s recommendations be damned. Even he wasn’t that masochistic. But he was stopped by the cheerful, “Welcome to Royal Pain! How can I help you?”

Eddie winced and rubbed his eye in frustration, but made his way up to the counter. “Munson, Eddie. I have a two o’clock with Stevie.”

Her smile grew genuine. “Not your first tattoo, I take it.”

Eddie pulled down the collar of his shirt to show of his finished dragon tattoo. “Yeah, no. Some asshole jock absconded to New York with my tattoo artist, so here I am.”

She grinned. “Stevie will be out in a moment.”

Before Eddie could chicken out, the man himself came out of a backroom, wiping off his hands. Eddie gulped. Steve looked very much the same as he did in high school. Same hazel eyes, honey hair, tight jeans and a fucking polo. This guy couldn’t have looked less like a tattoo artist if he tried. Except for one thing.

He could see tattoos on Steve’s arms. He couldn’t get a good look at them without staring but yeah, okay. Steve Harrington, tattoo artist. Who would have thought?

Steve looked up and smiled brightly. “Eddie?” Eddie nodded. “Hey! It’s so good to see you. I had hoped when I saw the name that it was you. How’s it been?”

Robin tilted her head in confusion and made an odd chirping noise.

“Come on, Robs,” Steve teased her. “You can’t tell me you don’t remember Eddie from school.”

She looked Eddie up and down and then cocked her head. “You do look vaguely familiar.”

Steve laughed. “You know, ran the D&D club, had that rock band–”

“Metal,” Eddie corrected. “Not rock, metal.”

Steve snapped his fingers. “That’s right, sorry. Oh! And stood on tables ranting about the man and how schools fail the kids they are supposed to teach.”

“You stepped on my sandwich,” she said deadpan.

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Whoops.”

She grinned and pushed his shoulder. “Just kidding. It was Tammy Thompson’s sandwich.”

“Isn’t she the one that sings like a Muppet?” Eddie asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Steve laughed. “That’s what I said.”

Robin looked between them both and growled, “I hate you both.”

“You’re only saying that because you had a crush on her,” Steve teased.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t know you swung for the other team, Buckley.”

She grinned. “What can I say, I do love a pretty girl.”

Eddie shrugged and cocked his head, nonchalant. “I wouldn’t know.”

Robin wagged her eyebrows at Steve, who rolled his eyes. He turned to Eddie. “So what am I doing for you today?”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment. “Oh!” He pulled out a picture from his back pocket and handed it to Steve.

“This is the Evenstar from Lord of the Rings, right?” Steve asked, tapping the picture. “Arwen’s necklace.”

Eddie lit up. “Yeah. I’m impressed, even uber fans have a hard time remembering that.”

Steve blushed, ducking his head. “I have this friend that hosts huge parties watching the extended versions of the movies every year. Complete with full Hobbit meals. It’s hard not take in something from the films.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, suddenly feeling less like murdering Jeff with each passing moment.

Steve smiled back. “Actually, you might remember him. He was in your club, your final year at school.”

Eddie cocked his head. “Oh?”

“Actually, you had three of Steve’s nuggets in your club,” Robin interjected.

Eddie turned to Steve. “What nuggets would those be?”

Steve blushed again. “I used to quasi-babysit these kids. There were about seven of them, if you count Erica and Elle.”

“Which I absolutely do,” Robin crowed delightedly.

Eddie’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he leaned forward. “You babysat kids?”

Steve shrugged. “They were good kids and their parents worked a lot, so they just kinda imprinted on me. Like ducklings.”

“Wait...Lucas, Mike, and Dustin, huh?” Eddie asked putting two and two together. “Holy fucking shit. I loved running their characters. The ranger, the paladin and the bard.” He couldn’t believe it. He had missed out the chance to run with their friend Will, but he had come back to Hawkins after Eddie finally graduated. “Which one was Dustin?”

Steve smiled and then ran his tongue over his teeth. “Floofy hair, trucker hats, Weird Al shirts, and a huge theater nerd.”

Eddie clapped and pointed, “That’s the one!” He tapped his finger over his lips. “Which means it’s Dustin that hosts the Lord of the Rings fest, isn’t he?”

Steve beamed up at him. “Yeah. Sadly I haven’t been able to go the last couple of years.”

Robin made a sympathetic noise.

“Why not?” Eddie asked, the curiosity getting the better of him.

“Migraines,” Steve said with a wince. “Too long staring at a TV set can trigger them, who knew?”

“That sucks.”

Steve looked back at the picture in his hand. “Did you draw this?”

Eddie grinned. “Sure did, big boy!”

“And would you want me to tattoo it in your style?” Steve asked.

Eddie blinked rapidly. “You can do that?”

Robin folded her arms, looking smug. “Hell yeah, he can!”

“I mean, if you can that would be amazing,” he said breathlessly.

“Where is it going, the tattoo, I mean?” Steve asked.

Eddie tapped his chest. “Sternum.”

Steve chewed his lip thoughtfully. “That would be awesome, but have you thought about putting it on your back. Like a shadow covering your spine?”

Robin’s eyebrows shot up.

Eddie shook his head. “As tempting as that would be sweetheart, I have plans for my back.”

Steve looked a little disappointed. “And what would that be?”

“I want big black bat wings on my shoulder blades,” Eddie said gleefully. “I just haven’t found anyone who’s style I liked well enough to trust doing it.”

Steve hurried around the desk and pulled out a large three-ring binder. “This is all my work, flip through it, see if you like my style enough for me to do it for you. Because I would love to. So take a look and let me know if I could be your man.”

Eddie blinked. “Yeah, sure.”

Steve smiled brightly. “Great! I’ll go set up and I’ll call you back when I’m ready.” He practically skipped to the back room again.

Eddie opened the binder slowly and began to shift the pages. They were all amazing pieces of work that only seemed to get better the further he got into the pictures.

“These are amazing,” he breathed.

Robin leaned on the counter and stage whispered, “If you do not get his number after he does your tattoo, I will murder you and no one will find the body.” She leaned back to look down the hall. What she saw Eddie didn’t know, but she leaned back into whisper to him, low and menacing, “I am not paid enough to listen to his rom-com pining bullshit.”  

Eddie looked behind her and then back at her. “I’m–I mean–what the hell?”

“Eddie!” Steve called.

Eddie slammed the binder shut and stomped to the back. He stopped short when he got to room. Again he was blown away at how opposite it was from other shops he’d been to. It wasn’t sterile white or anything like that but it was brightly lit and nicely decorated. It was a place that most ‘normies’ would feel comfortable getting their first tattoo. And he got the appeal.

Steve looked up at him with a lopsided smile as if he understood why Eddie was brought up short. “Other tattoo artists give me such shit about my set up, but it’s not about the aesthetic of what people think a tattoo shop should look like. It’s about people feeling comfortable about permanently altering their bodies.”

Eddie nodded. “No man, I get it. It’s just a pleasant surprise, you know?”

Steve grinned at him. “Thanks. Come on, have a seat. Take off your shirt. Relax.” He paused for a moment. “But not necessarily in that order.”

Eddie laughed and pulled off his shirt, tossing it on a nearby chair. He got on the lounge chair and laid back. He noticed the way Steve dragged his tongue over his bottom lip and smirked. Maybe Buckley was right.

“You’ve got a lot of great tattoos,” Steve said, wiping down Eddie’s chest with a mild anesthetic to clean the area. “Your old tattoo artist do those?”

Eddie shrugged. “Yeah, I mean most of them. A couple were stick and poke when I was high school.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Shit, really? I wouldn’t have guessed. They’re all really good.”

Eddie blushed. He figured Steve was just being polite because he thought it was fairly obvious which ones were the stick and poke. “Speaking of high school, I would have never in a million years thought that King Steve would become a tattoo artist. You been doing this long?”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, I got voted most likely to run my own business, but I’m pretty sure they thought something closer along the lines of hair care or some such shit.”

“At least yours was nice,” Eddie grumbled. “I got voted most likely to still be high school at the ten year reunion.”

Steve winced. “Was that the first time or the second time they held you back?”

“First.”

“That’s harsh, man,” Steve commiserated. “Yeah, no, I’ve been doing this for the last five years. Three years at my own shop.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Wait really? That’s epic, dude.”

Steve nodded. “I went with a friend of mine to see about apprenticing under Hop. He caught me doodling on myself because I forgot to bring my drawing pad and offered the apprenticeship to us both.”

“I can see why,” Eddie said. “You do some pretty impressive work. Who was the friend? Robin?”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, no...I love Robin, and she is a lot of wonderful things, artist just isn’t one of them.”

Eddie laughed, too. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair.”

Steve picked up his gun and sat down on the rolling stool. “Nope, Max Mayfield. One of my nuggets, as Robin called them.”

Eddie blinked. “Shit, dude. She was my old tattoo artist? You two really apprenticed under Hop?”

Steve hummed. “Yup.” He turned on the gun and then shut it off again. “I know you said that you wanted it in your style, but can I add my own flourishes to it?”

Eddie cocked his head. “Yeah, sure. I liked what you did with Jeff’s tattoo, so yeah. Knock yourself out, man.”

Steve grinned. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

***

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

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[aphrogeneias]

artist!reader using steve's back as a canvas.

you love the way it looks, all tan and full of freckles, like little constelations, like art. the rippling muscles beneath it, the scars that prove how soft he is, through all the hardness he's been out through.

so much that, when you're alone with him, in bed at night, when he's all sweet and pliant under your touch, you catch yourself drawing invisible patterns on them. one day, you ask him if you can paint it, and he says yes — as if he could ever say no to you.

you start simple. you're straddling him, working with markers at first, creating meaningless patterns. he's relaxed under you, talking about his day, telling you stories. on the following days, you move on to paint, abstract lines and colorful splashes, idyllic views.

at the end, when you're done, you grab your camera and take a picture of each and every one of your designs. you help steve clean up in the bath, and he shows his appreciation for being your muse with his hands and mouth, painting a pretty picture of you in the few ways he knows how to.

months later, these pictures are put up for an exhibition. steve has never felt more loved.

[themorningsunshine]

Be My Muse

Pairing - Aritst!Bucky Barnes x Reader (Childhood best friends to lovers)

Summary - Muse - A person or spirit that gives an artist the desire to create things

Bucky has been in love with you for years, but just can't get himself to say it. So, instead, he decides to show you.

Warnings - None, just fluffy fluff 

Word Count - 2.4k 

a/n - This is for @buckybarnesevents ‘s Connect 4: June-iverse event. Card Number - C4037 for the prompt C1 - Aritst. Thank you to the lovely @bluehourbucky​ for motivating me to actually finish writing this. 

"Come on, Buck. Just tell me."

You watched as the man you called your best friend shook his head, once again refusing to let out anything about his upcoming art exhibition.

"Oh, come on. Don't be this way." You didn't want to pressurize him, but he was acting weird about this exhibition for the past 2 months.

Every single time when he had an art exhibition coming up, he would ramble about it for weeks to you and you loved it. The way he was excited about what he had made and also the way his nervous ticks showed up always a week before the actual event, you loved every bit of it.  But this time, he hadn't spoken a word remotely related to it.

To top it all off, he had said that this was the most important exhibition of his life.

You were bound to be scared.

"Okay, what about this, you give me a hint, about anything, it doesn't even have to be the centerpiece, literally anything, and I will stop bugging you." You were practically begging now.

"Come on, doll. You are going to come to the main event. You can look at it then." He said putting your cup of coffee in front of you, is pretty much one of the only ways to distract your mind.

"See it then? With everybody else? Is that what I am to you, now, Buck? Just a person in the audience? I knew this day would come." You picked up your cup and with a dramatic turn walked out of the room.

Had you stood there for a moment longer, you would have seen the way Bucky scratched his thumb and bit his lips, two of his most prominent nervous ticks.

Only if he could tell you that you weren't just a person in the crowd. No, you were much more than that. You were everything .

He just had to wait.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

The day of the exhibition came sooner than he would have liked, but to you, it couldn't have been further away.

Bucky had been a little distant with you for the past week and you hated it. You hated it more than anything else in the world.

Usually, he would take you with him to carry out the errands related to the exhibition, 'cause he always got super nervous and you would be there to ground him. Like anchoring him back to the shore.

But this time, you had absolutely no idea what even was the theme of this exhibition. Every single time you offered to go with him for anything, he would always make excuses, and you were confident that they were lies 'cause when did Bucky start to go grocery shopping in the middle of the week?

In the almost 2 decades you had known him, ever since you were a kid, he had never hidden something this important from you.

To say that you were scared would be an understatement.

When you finally entered the exhibition, you were proud to see how many people had shown up. You had always known that Bucky would do exceptionally well as an artist and you had taken every chance you got to tell him exactly that.

As you were about to turn the corner and look at the first painting, you almost collided with a wall of muscle.

You looked up only to be met by the gaze of one of your closest friends.

"Steve, hey!!"

You saw as Steve tried extremely hard to hide the huge grin that threatened to spread across his face and you could swear you saw happy tears brimming in the corner of his eyes.

You squinted as you took a step to the side to let a man walk in, realizing you were blocking the way.

"Y/n, you need to come with me."

"Not now, Steve. It's Bucky's exhibition. I need to stay here."

"He has asked you to come with me."

You narrowed your eyes as you asked, "Are you sure?"

Steve nodded as he took your hand to try and take you away from the paintings.

Dread filled your chest. Did Bucky really not want you in here so much?

You follow Steve as he leads you toward an isolated door of the arena.

You turn to look at him and he signals you to get inside.

"Okay, if you are kidnapping me, I might as well let you know that no one is going to pay a single penny as ransom to you." You joke. You have been friends with Steve almost for as long as you have been with Bucky and you trusted them with everything.

Steve chuckles before replying, "Just go in, y/n."

You open the door and take a step in, only to realize that it's pitch dark. Before you can turn back to look at Steve, the door closes behind you.

You take a deep breath and call out, "Bucky? I swear to god if it's one of your stupid pranks, I'll kill you."

Suddenly, a small light gets switched on beside you and you turn to realize that it beautifully illuminates a painting.

You take a step forward towards it, only to realize that it is a sketch of an eye and it's beautiful .

You can see the way it shines with a glint even though it's just a sketch and you bring your hand forward to run it across it.

It is then that you notice the little note sitting at the bottom right corner of the sketch.

All the city lights combined couldn't shine brighter than your eyes.

Your lips turned upwards into a smile as you read the words. Even though you had absolutely no idea what was happening, it was a huge comfort to know that it was all Bucky's doing. You could recognize that handwriting anywhere.

You looked around hoping to figure out at least something, but all that the little illumination below the sketch showed you was that it was more probable than not a huge hall.

Not even a moment later, another small light was switched on just beside the first one.

It was a painting this time. A very old painting.

It was a small girl sitting on a swing hanging from the tree. A blissful smile on her face, carefree and oblivious to the troubles of the world.

When you noticed the bracelet that she was wearing, you took a step forward, squinting to focus on the painting.

It was you.

And then the memory of that day placed itself at the forefront of your brain.

"Come on, Buck." The little 11-year-old girl called out to the brown-haired boy.

He just shakes his head and refuses to move away from under the tree he is sitting, a sketchbook in hand.

"Why do you even like painting so much?" She had asked, crossing her arms across her chest, puffing in annoyance at his lack of response before walking away towards the swing herself.

A smile finds its way to your lips at the memory. It was about a couple of years after the both of you had met, and yet, it was as clear as day in your mind. Even after all the memories you and Bucky created together over the years, small - innocent ones like these from all those years ago never left your heart.

You look at it intensely for a long time. A couple of tears brimming at the corner of your eyes.

It's been so long. You couldn't help but think. The both of you had grown up but never grew apart. There was always a connection, an instant pull that always brought the both of you back to each other, almost like how no matter how far any of you went, you never forgot your way back home.

After some time, you finally noticed the little note written in the bottom left corner of the painting, just like in the first one. But this one was different. This sentence was the one that would change your whole life for you. In the best way possible. It read :

The day that 12-year-old fell in love, without even knowing what love meant. All he knew was that he was going to love that girl with everything he had, till his last days and beyond.

Your breath hitched in your throat. He loved you.

Bucky Barnes was in love with you.

That's when it hit you.

Everything you have ever wanted. The only thing your heart has ever yearned for, was right in front of you all along.

The love that you had read about in books, the kind of love that swallowed you whole until there was no part left untouched, the love that you have looked for your entire life, has been right there. Right beside you. In the form of the oceanic blue eyes that had enamored you for the last 20 years.

You were in love with your best friend.

The realization doesn't hit you like a truck, or leave you gasping in surprise, it brings with it a sense of peace, a sense of everything falling into place.

You look around frantically searching for the man that you had loved all along without ever knowing it.

You loved him when he fought those bullies to protect Steve and got hurt in the process.

You had loved him when he had brought you cookies when you had gotten sick during Christmas, not being able to move.

You had loved him when you had supported him in his decision to do what his heart desired, in his journey of becoming an artist.

You had loved him when the both of you had said your goodbyes while leaving for college in distant cities when the tears had fallen from your eyes and on the ground and he had comforted you that your friendship won't fall apart.

You had loved him in the nights that were spent staring at the stars together, in the afternoons that had been spent watching movies, curled up beside each other, just the two of you.

You had loved him then, and you love him now and you were pretty sure you were going to love him till the world was nothing but dust.

A light suddenly gets switched on just beside the old painting, and this time too, it's you.

Painted years after the last one, it's you staring at the night sky, a soft, content look on your face.

This time, your eyes frantically search for the note, and sure enough, it's right there, at the bottom.

'Cause, darling without you,

All the shine of a thousand spotlights

All the stars we steal from the night sky

Will never be enough

Never be enough

You can now feel tears rolling down your cheeks, as your lips turn into the widest grin possible.

You turn around and as you do so, all the lights in the room begin to turn on, each revealing a painting of you. Taken in the simplest moments.

There is one with you in the kitchen, covered in flour, a pout evident on your face as you had tried to bake a cake for the first time.

There was one where you were sitting at the beach, staring into the ocean.

The one that you liked the most was the one in which you were sleeping contently, a blanket loosely draped over you, that you could swear hadn't been there before.

Before you can look at the rest of them, a voice comes from the corner of the hall and you turn just in time to look at Bucky Barnes himself.

Your smile grew wider if it was even possible and you almost ran off to embrace him when he started speaking.

"One day, you asked me why I drew. Why I felt the need to express whatever it was I felt through a canvas. I didn't tell you, then, but now I want to, doll.

It's you. It's always been you. You have been my muse, my pillar of support, my motivation to get up every morning, my need to paint because there was no other way I could express to the girl I was in love with that she was all I ever dreamt about. That she was everything I could ever want.

I love you, doll. I love you with everything I am and everything I'll ever be. There are a hundred ways this could fall apart, and trust me, I have thought about each one of them more than I should have. But if there is one chance that this could work, that I could be yours, not just in movie nights or weekly trips to the grocery market, but in every way possible, I want to take that chance. In slow mornings and in intimate nights, in tough days and in the celebratory evenings, I want you, I need you to be a part of all of them, doll because life just doesn't feel like life without you."

As if your feet had gained a mind of their own you ran towards him, circling your arms around his neck and pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss was gentle, soft, full of need and unspoken feelings, of time lost, it was everything .

He pulled you impossibly closer to him, not wanting to ever let go.

Finally, when the both of you pulled away, still staying close with the widest possible grins on your faces, you whispered, "I love you too, Buck. So damn much." You say it so slowly, it feels like a dream to him.

You would one day shout out to the world how much you loved him, but for now, it was going to be your little moment. When the city of Brooklyn went about its day just like it did every day, two people who were irresistibly, irrevocably in love with each other stood there, holding each other, in the gentlest of embraces, embers of their love while keeping them warm, strong enough to burn the whole world down.

You stay there for what feels like forever before Bucky whispers. "Doll, be my muse?"

You look up at him, drowning in his oceanic blue eyes, only to reach home, before you whisper, "Forever."  

[xenocorner]

Art Resources 01 [Facial anatomy]

Hi! First post of the Art Resources thing I mentioned a while back :) Figured I'd start with something people generally want to know more about- or something people think they already know about but could still used some lesser known tips!

Resources, break downs and tips under the Keep Reading thing :]

1. The Basics

There are thousands of methods to constructing the face. The most popular one is the little circle with the cross in the middle, and sometimes a few more lines for the jaw. While that can be a useful guideline, if you're just starting to learn the ropes it might be better to use a method that has more structure decomposition and land marks to help guide you. Here I'll leave two methods of deconstructing the face that I believe are the most useful to draw faces in different angles and perspectives as well as identify where exactly should each element be placed.

REMEMBER: All of these methods are just guidelines. In order to get different facial features, you can adjust proportions for each of these and play around with sizes.

1.1 The Loomis Method

A structural approach to drawing the head, based on first: simplifying general forms and second: identifying landmarks for the face elements. Pretty good for beginners, helps you understand the head from a more tridimensional stand point to be able to draw it from different angles.

1.2 The Reilly Method

Also a structural approach, but this one is based on understanding the rhythms of the face (proportions, harmonies, and even some general muscular anatomy). It can be a bit harder to understand and use as a building block for beginner artists, but it can serve as a way to check your proportions after an initial sketch.

Here are other two methods, a bit less known, but that go a bit more in depth about the head. If you're a beginner, I'd recommend watching the Loomis method first before diving into these other two methods. Note: these are playlists covering each method, and the videos are longer, but worthwhile.

1.3 The Michael Hampton Method

1.4 The Steve Huston Method

And here's a hybrid of a visual and structural approach too if you're interested! (Again, this one is recommended mostly if you already have a good grasp of the general structure)

Having trouble finding that reference of the head from that specific angle? Here's a 3D model that can be used as reference from any angle. Bonus: It has a built in light feature that allows you to understand which planes of the face the light would hit!

There's also a version with more feminine features.

Here's a website that lets you pick a head angle and then searches for reference images with that angle too. Allows you to pick age, gender, and other features like glasses, facial hair, etc.

2. Understanding What's Below

When drawing the head and face, what most people think of is what we see everyday: the skin. However, there's more to the head and face than just that: there's a whole structure laying underneath that builds up everything on top. Understanding that structure can lead to better execution of skin level facial anatomy.

And what's that structure? Well, bones of course. And muscles. Even if (most of the time) we don't draw them, knowing they exist and how they are placed on top of each other can help with building what we do draw. Understanding the building blocks of the face will make it easier to avoid, say, making one eye bigger than the other. Or a forehead that's too small. Or ears that are too high. Or side profiles that cut off the brain.

Something I recommend for this is making study sheets of the bone structure, muscular structure, and skin structure. For this it's important to name the main bones and muscle groups. Not because you need to commit them to memory, but because if you name them on your practice sheet, it's easier to remember later on that they EXIST (even if you don't remember the name).

Here's a 3D model of the skull

Useful guide for the names of the bones of the skull

Here's a 3D model of the face muscles with names

3. Elements of a Whole

So we now understand the general structure of a face and some useful guidelines to build it. Good! But now, a face has a bunch of individual elements with their own individual structure and stuff to look out for. Those are, of course:

Eyes

Noses

Lips

Ears

3.1 Eyes

It's important to note that the eye has a volume of its own- it's not just a sticker laying on top of the face. It can be helpful to think of the eyeball inside the eye socket when drawing it (taking into account the bone structure we learned before). When understanding the eyeball as a sphere, it becomes easier to place the skin above: the eyelids. This can help with drawing the eye from any angle.

This can also help when drawing the dreaded Other EyeTM, specially if you are still a beginner artist. If you start by constructing the eyes with spheres and approach it from the perspective of "placing" the skin above that sphere, it's easier to get sizes and proportions right.

3.2 Noses

Again, spheres can be your friend.

3.3 Lips

Spheres part 3

A funny thing with lips that often gets over looked when one is just learning the ropes of anatomy is that it also wraps around the volume of the face. Just like the eyes aren't stickers laying on top, the lips aren't either. It's important to take the curvature of the face when placing the lips from different angles and expressions. For example, when we thing of a smile, its usually this idea that comes to mind:

Which yeah, that's fine! ...As long as your subject is facing straight to the camera.

But when we have even a bit of perspective, the way the mouth looks changes, and we often don't think of that and just draw what we think the mouth looks like... which can lead to odd looking mouths, like they're pasted on. So, it's important to keep in mind the volume of the face:

This is true for all features of the face: keeping in mind the volume. But, it can be more noticeable on the mouth.

3.4 Ears

Spheres part- no.

Even if the ear is one of the "flatter" parts of the head, it doesn't mean they don't have volume. Depending on the angle of the face, it'll change how much of the ear is shown- or which parts.

All ears are different and have their quirks, but they all can be divided in three major segments, colour coded in the image. If you deconstruct the ear in these three major parts, keeping in mind they have their own volume, it should be easier to figure out which of those parts will be seen depending on the angle of your face.

4. Expressions!

Now that we understand the elements and construction blocks of the face (bones and muscles), we can play around with them a bit more. So, time to make expressions!

When playing with how the skin moves, it's fundamental to understand the muscle groups of the face and how they move, relax and tense depending on the expression. Knowing that these muscles exist and how they interact with the skin above will help you know where the eyebrow should furrow, where wrinkles would form.

A BOOK I widely recommend is Anatomy of Facial Expression, which you can find here for purchase

Or here as a PDF

This book also covers skull anatomy, so it's a useful tool to study the structure talked about in 02.

There's also an ArtStation account that uploads a bunch of useful 3D model resources for anatomy (facial or otherwise).

Scott McCloud's book, Making Comics, has a section dedicated to facial expressions too (great book in general, not only if you're interested in comics!). You can find it in PAGE 80 (or 88 in the document).

Another thing that can be helpful is studying from life! You can do that by making different expressions in front of a mirror and pay close attention to which muscle groups tense and relax, where wrinkles appear, how your skin moves. Or, if you're like me and hate staring at your face, you can also study from video references.

Here's a link to a PLAYLIST containing various videos of people making different expressions.

The previous playlist contains real people, thus, REALISTIC ANATOMY. It's important to note that even if your drawing style is heavily stylised (like anime, cartoon, etc), it's still fundamental that you understand real world rules so you later know how to bend and break them properly to implement those to your own style.

However, that doesn't mean you can't study STYLISED EXPRESSIONS too! It's actually a great idea to see how other people exaggerate certain anatomical aspects to their own work so you can also understand how to do it in yours. Here's a list with various videos of EXPRESSIONS IN MOTION for animation tests. Study them the same as the previous ones: paying close attention to how the face and muscles MOVE.

Pause the videos you study as needed! While all of this might seem more useful for animation, it's also incredibly useful in illustration, and studying things in movement can help with understanding them better, thus putting them to paper (or tablet) becomes easier.

Finally, here's some videos in a sort of CLASS FORMAT that can help with walking you through drawing expressions more effectively than a text post could lol

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟

To rule the underworld took an iron fist, and it was easy to make your will known, but just this once, a soft touch — a gentle word, would get you what you wanted.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ֎ Artist!Bucky Barnes x Mafia!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ֎ 2.3k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ֎ Fluff, Shy!Bucky ჻჻჻ TROPES: Meet Cute

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ֎ Oh, this was some of the most fun I have had writing. ֎ If you recognise the Goddess on the right in the moodboard, you know my plans already. ֎ Thank you to all who hyped me up on this, and I am not sorry for how self-indulgent this is. I hope you enjoy.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ֎ She Wolf by Shakira ֎ Confident by Demi Lovato

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ֎ @buckybarnesevents Into an Alternate June-iverse 𝗖𝟭 — Sculptor AU — Masterlist ֎ @mcukinkbingo 𝗚𝟰 — Meet Cute — Masterlist

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“That will be all, gentlemen.” 

Men scurried from the table at your dismissal, leaving the conference room empty and bare, aside from slips of paper and empty glasses left in their wake. It was a relief – after the past four hours, your patience had been tested almost beyond what you could endure. “Fucking men,” you spat, a snarl on your lips.

A heavy exhale whistled past your lips, and you swirled the last of your drink in your glass, and then slammed it back with a wince. Three knocks sounded on the heavy doors, and you rolled your eyes. “I said it’s over–get ou- Oh.”

“I figured you’d appreciate seeing a friendly face.”

You stared at the intruder for a moment, taking in the pressed suit and slicked back blond hair, neat beard, and bright, calculating blue eyes. “You’re right,” you sighed, pinching your brow. “How are you, Steve? Or should I call you Nomad–is this business?”

“Nah,” Steve said, smiling. You watched him take the seat to your right, his hands clasping together and resting on the table. “Here on pleasure actually.”

A snort of laughter escaped before you could compose yourself, and you raised a brow. “Is that so?”

Steve grinned and shook his head, pulling his phone out of his suit pocket. “My best friend, you remember him–Bucky?” 

You casted back for a moment, the memory of the built and muscled artist that Steve gushed about to no end filled your mind’s eye – long hair, handsome features, and the sweetest and most shy disposition, one that made you want him more than anything else. Bucky had been in your sights for the longest time. “Yeah, I do. Why?”

“His latest exhibition has been a hit, and I was wondering if you’d come?” Steve asked, handing you his phone that was open to a webpage of the high end gallery down the block. “He’s asked about you, actually.”

Surprise gripped you in its claws, and it must have shown on your face if Steve’s smirk was anything to go by. “Why would your best friend be asking about lil’ ol’ me, Rogers?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Steve groused, taking his phone back. “You know why.”

“Enlighten me.”

The eye roll you received in return made you laugh, but Steve opened his mouth to continue, “Bucky saw you at the last gala, or something. You captured his attention.”

“And you’re telling me he’s asked about me because–?”

“Because I want you to get out of your damn office and out there,” Steve said, shrugging. “There’s no ulterior motive here, whatsoever.”

“I’ll believe that the day hell freezes over.” The glass in your hand thudded against the surface of the table, and you rose from your chair, your pant suit falling neatly into place and concealing your shoulder holster – not before Steve saw it, however. 

“You’re still carrying?”

“No shit, Sherlock,” you snorted, stretching to the ceiling. “You expect the head of the Mafia to walk around unarmed just because she’s a woman?”

“No,” Steve cut in, his hands raised slightly. “I just thought since you have two hunks at the door, you would embrace your… feminine side.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you laughed, shoving Steve on the shoulder as he sniggered. “Let me get ready, and you can take me as your plus one.”

Steve saluted and strode out of the conference room, leaving you alone to your thoughts. You lingered at the head of the table, your hand running over the back of your chair, stuck in a vicious spiral. 

For months now, you had wondered and thought about the shy artist, and, given the fact that the Adonis of a man was so damn shy, you’d kept your distance out of respect for Steve and their friendship. But here Steve was, strolling into your office – one of the very, very few people who could even make it to your floor without interception from any of your men (and women) – asking you to attend an evening at said artist’s gallery.

It made no damn sense. And for a woman quick on your feet, it drove you mad – there was an ulterior motive, Steve was crafty like that, but what exactly was it?

“Madness, it is,” you muttered aloud. “Fucking madness.”

What was wrong with playing the role of the she-wolf intent on hunting the lamb?

Nightfall had approached quickly in your anticipation, and you waited in the back of your car while your guards drove to the venue. Forgoing tradition, you wore a different suit, dark in colour with a slight shimmer in the fabric – big enough to hide your concealed sidearms, and warm enough to make sure you didn’t freeze in the chilled Brooklyn night air. 

You shuffled up in your seat, and rested a hand on the driver and your head guard’s shoulder. “Jamie, darling, drop me and park the car. I’ll be fine with Ari.”

“Ponyatoy,” James replied, nodding once. “I will find you in the main hall.”

“Sounds good,” you affirmed, squeezing the muscle of his shoulder once, before turning to Ari. “Hear that, handsome? You’re up.”

Ari chuckled. “You betcha.”

The car came to a stop and Ari swung out of his seat, the blinding flashes of bulbs and cameras and spotlights of his open door not a surprise. “Good luck,” James said quietly, looking at you through grey, watchful eyes. “Do not let them ruffle you.”

“‘Course not,” you replied, smiling. “I’m the Queen of an Empire, darling.” The door opened and the roar of the crowd deafened you for just a second. 

James huffed a laugh and faced forward once more, and you slid out of your seat to face the awaiting vultures. The car sped away behind you, and you stood tall, allowing Ari to take the lead and direct you through the doors and away from the press. 

The sprawling gallery was swarming with rich guests – designer gowns and CEOs far as the eyes could see, while statues and sculptures and paintings lined the walls and set patterns over the floor, interspaced with waiters carrying champagne trays. “My God,” you breathed, taking it in with Ari standing at your shoulder. “It’s the lion’s den.”

“And you’re the Queen. Remember that, love,” Ari mumbled, his gaze darting around and watching the crowd. 

“Always my saviour,” you whispered, leaning up on your heels to kiss him on the cheek. “Now, let’s find Nomad before-”

“You called?” Steve said suddenly, his voice over your other shoulder. 

Ari laughed and shook Steve’s hand, breaking character just for a second before resuming his usual stance; brooding, and menacing. 

“We’re fine to use names here,” Steve said lowly, leaning in slightly. “No one here knows what I am, they don't know shit. Well, except for Buck–kind of.”

“It astounds me that he is cool with it,” you mused, smirking. It gave you hope for your plans. Lowering your voice, you continued, “Being my best hitman comes with its own fame, after all, darling.”

Steve laughed and rubbed the back of his neck – the movement made your stomach flip. “Wait, he doesn’t know that part?”

“No, but he knows I work… in the underground?” Steve offered sheepishly, his eyes narrowing. “But it doesn’t matter, he knows I work for big names–it’s how he knows of you specifically.”

“Oh my god, Rogers,” you sighed. Ari raised a brow and made no comment. “Alright, at least he knows I’m not exactly innocent–Queen of the underworld, you know, such a prestigious title.” The words came out in a sarcastic huff, and you turned to look at the front doors where James was just striding in. “Ah, here he is.” 

James came to stand next to Ari, offering Steve a subtle nod and a heated, lingering glance, of which Steve returned. “Enough heart eyes, you two,” you cut in, and the both of them stared at you sharply – you just shrugged. “Care to give me a tour, Stevie?”

“Yes, your highness,” Steve sighed, bowing and offering his hand. “Right this way, m’lady.”

You laughed and took his hand, walking arm in arm from sculpture to painting, mingling with the rich folk seamlessly. James and Ari tailed you both, just within reach and shadowing every move. 

“This one,” Steve started, pointing at an intricately made sculpture against the wall and lit up by three spotlights – a centrepiece if you ever saw one. “It’s one of Buck’s favourites, he worked on it for months.”

“It is stunning,” you said, voice awestruck as you took in the angular planes of the medium. “I would love to have it in my office.”

“Who knows,” Steve ventured, looking at you with a playful smirk on his lips. “You could commission him.” His gaze ventured back to the room at large, and you watched his eyes light up when he fixed onto something in the crowd. “And talk of the devil. Buck!”

Your eyes darted towards the approaching figure – a dark blue button up hugging his chest, and black slacks that hugged his thighs, dress shoes gleaming and his hair, longer than when you saw him last, was tucked behind his ears. 

The she-wolf in your chest perked and eyed the lamb with interest, her gaze heated and possessive. Bright eyes met yours, and you smirked, tilting your head back only slightly to appraise him, and the move caused a light flush to dust his cheekbones. 

“Buck, it’s good to see you, punk,” Steve greeted, pulling Bucky into a hug. You sidestepped and flicked your fingers subtly – the sign for your guards to step closer. The overwhelming urge to be framed between them and show the lamb you were a powerful Queen took hold. 

Amidst the show of power, Steve turned to you and grinned, offering your name. 

You met Bucky’s gaze and smiled, showing your teeth. “It’s good to meet you, Bucky, officially,” you purred, offering your hand to shake. To your utter surprise, in his silence, he grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of it. “Oh, and chivalrous too–Steve, darling, he’s mine now.”

Bucky spluttered and took a step back, his hand flying to the back of his neck with a nervous smile on his lips, his focus flickering between you and the gleaming floor at his feet. “It’s good to meet you finally, too,” he said quietly. “Thank you for coming–I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Oh, Pup,” you cooed, and Bucky blushed furiously red. Ari snorted quietly behind you, covering it with a cough. “Of course I’m here, Steve speaks highly of your skills and mastery, and I can see why.”

The look Bucky shot Steve could have melted gold with its heat, and you chuckled. “Never mind, darling,” you said soothingly, but it only made Bucky blush even redder. Poor thing, you thought. “Come, give me a tour.” 

Without waiting for a response, you hooked your arm through his, and pulled him along, ignorant of his stumbling footsteps. The two of you did a few laps of the gallery, still arm in arm, while Ari and James trailed behind – their presence not seeming to bother Bucky in the slightest. 

“Pup,” you said slowly, staring at the side of his face. “Tell me about yourself, darling.”

Bucky blanched slightly, a small hesitant falter in his step as he navigated the crowds with ease. “I, uh- Well, I grew up in Brooklyn-”

“Oh, no, not that, Pup,” you cut in, shaking his arm slightly, and he glanced at you, eyes narrowed slightly and brow furrowed. “Tell me about your art–why do you make these masterpieces?”

A rosy blush bloomed up from under the collar of his shirt, and you filed that information away for later – a weakness for praise, interesting, you thought victoriously.

“Because I’m using my hands to create something beautiful–bringing to life something new, unique, and it makes me happy, I guess,” Bucky rambled, his hand pointing at various works. 

“I love it,” you marvelled, smiling at him – eyes glinting with the intent to consume; leave nothing in your wake. Bucky returned your smile, his gaze innocent and sweet. 

The night wound down with plenty of champagne. When it came time to leave, you smiled at Bucky and pulled him into your side, your heels giving you an advantage. Leaning close, you kissed his cheek. “Such a handsome boy,” you cooed, revelling in the way Bucky’s eyes widened and stared at his feet, but he didn’t push you away. “I will see you again soon, Pup. Keep up the beautiful work.”

“Bye,” Bucky whispered hoarsely, eyes flicking up to meet your heated stare only briefly. You made your way down the stairs, blowing a kiss to Bucky over your shoulder. 

A looming presence to your side caught your attention, and you looked over to see James stalking towards you, having sent Ari to fetch the car earlier. “You seem to have an eye for the artist,” James muttered, bringing you to the curb and standing closer to lend you his body heat in the chilly night. “It was interesting watching you make the poor boy flustered.”

“Wasn’t he sweet,” you whispered, leaning into James’ side. “I like him.”

“Ni khrena,” James retorted, and you slapped him on the shoulder. 

The car pulled up in front of you, and James opened the back door for you, ushering you in. Silence fell as Ari pulled away from the curb and into the night, the streets twisting and turning as he drove you home. 

The plush comfort of the back seat enveloped you as you leant back, reclining in thought of bright eyes and perfect, nimble hands – it was then you decided that you would pull out all the stops. 

You wanted Bucky, more than you could have realised, and dammit all, you would have him. The hunt had begun.

ponyatoy = understood ni khrena = no shit

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Ok ok ok ok, the post about Steve drawing a portrait of his own dick for Bucky’s wallet, and all your posts about Steve’s exhibitionist streak -

My uncle is a photographer and at their old house he had a picture up in the spare bedroom, of my aunt from their honeymoon where she’s naked on a beach. It’s artfully shadowed and you’d have to stare at it for a while to understand what you’re looking at (or at least I did when I was 9), but I distinctly remember him taking it down once before a dinner party, winking at me, and saying something like, “this doesn’t stay up for company.”

Steve drawing intimate portraits of himself for Bucky. Bucky starts just the way you wrote, as a silly little ask to keep in his wallet and make Steve blush, but also because Steve never had self confidence in himself as an artist and is resisting getting back into it even as a hobby, and Bucky figures that anything that will get Steve drawing again is a good thing, especially if he can rib him for it. But that doesn’t prepare Bucky for the look on Steve’s face the first time Bucky pulls out his wallet when Steve KNOWS the photo is in there.

They’re at a neighborhood coffee shop. The shop is busy, people passing by everywhere. After learning about credit card fees both he and Steve try to pay with cash whenever they can, so Bucky is chatting with the barista as he digs through his wallet for exact change. He turns to Steve to ask if he has 26 cents and-

Bucky scoffs whenever people say that honesty is one of Steve’s positive attributes, cause yeah, the guy’s honest, but with a poker face as shitty as his, he doesn’t really have a choice.

Bucky sees it all on his face. Beet red from his hairline to where his collarbones peek out from his shirt, mouth gulping in shallow breaths, eyes wide and terrified and so dark he looks high, bouncing between the wallet in Bucky’s hand and the people getting creamer behind him. He’s so overwhelmed that he hasn’t even thought to cover himself, and his dick (flaccid in the portrait; should Bucky have questioned that choice? Did Steve draw what he saw? Or did he get hard and feel ashamed of it?) is hard under his jeans, begging for Bucky to reach out and grab. Steve’s eyes flicker up to Bucky’s, and a slow, evil smirk slides across Bucky’s lips.

“C’mon Stevie, help me out. You don’t want me to drop anything on the floor, do you?”

Something in Steve’s head clicks and he jerks back to life, digging out his own wallet and handing over the change, eyes on his shoes. Instead of waiting at the counter, Bucky drags Steve to a spot on the back wall and, casual as can be, moves his body between Steve’s and the cafe and cups a large hand between Steve’s legs.

“Bucky, what-“

“That’s why you said yes, isn’t it?” Bucky murmurs, dragging his hand up and down like a slow handjob. Steve chokes on his own saliva, eyes glued to Bucky’s. “You weren’t just indulging me, you LIKE it. You like thinking that any stranger coming up behind me could see me handling your dick like money. I don’t have to put your ass on the corner, you printed your own cock-sucker cash just for me.”

Steve whimpers, fine trembles running through his limbs. He knows his safe word. He doesn’t use it.

“What would Maggie think if I handed her your cock to pay for my latte? She’d want more next time, wouldn’t she? A pretty cock like that, you can’t get just once, huh?”

They get out of the cafe without being charged with indecent exposure, and the moment they get home Bucky muscles Steve to the bed and fucks him until he’s wailing.

After, they get up. Reheat their lukewarm coffee. Watch rugby on TV while Bucky absentmindedly rubs Steve’s feet, until it’s time for Steve to leave for a jog with Nat.

Just as Steve is about to head out the door, Bucky calls, “Hey Steve? When you get home, I want you to draw yourself hard. Use that nice paper I got you for Christmas. About time we put up some more art around here, huh?”

Over the next few months Steve draws dozens of sketches of himself, and one by one they go up on the walls of their apartment. Mostly in private areas like their bedroom or the en-suite, but every so often they’ll have Sam or Nat over and Steve will glance up in the middle of a sentence and feel his throat fill with fire because Bucky’s snuck one of them up. It’s half hidden behind the curtains but Steve sees it every time the breeze blows through the open window; that’s the one he drew on the floor, on his hands and knees, a system of mirrors rigged between his legs so he could sketch himself as Bucky rocked into him. He drew everything, from the precum drooling from under his foreskin to his dangling balls to Bucky’s shaft gleaming with lube and stretching him open.

He doesn’t let himself look at it for the rest of the night. He doesn’t know if Sam or Nat see it. But when they say their goodbyes and Bucky closes the door behind them, Bucky turns to Steve already on the floor on his knees, on his chest, whining in helplessness as he struggles to pull his clothing off without changing position.

Bucky doesn’t help him. Leans against the door and plays with his own cock as Steve finally gets his jeans and underwear down, contorts his arm so he can pull back a cheek, whimpers for it.

Bucky goes to him. But not before grabbing Steve’s sketchbook.

related to this

I 👏🏻 fucking 👏🏻 love 👏🏻 this 👏🏻

Like, oh my fucking GOD, this is so good. This is such a good fucking concept and then the way you wrote on top of that--the dirty talk especially, christ--makes it irresistible. Fuck.

This is fantastic. Thank you so, so much for this. This is going to and already does live rent-free in my head 😮‍💨😮‍💨 I can see every part of this ask, and it's filthy and beautiful

[gravedigginbbydoll]

Hawkins University : The Munson Edition

64.media.tumblr.com

AN: Hey, y'all. Haha tricked you into thinking this would be another Eddie POV, huh? Sorry but we need more of Bug first to really get the drama going! Hope you're doing well :) This chapter goes further into smut but also romance and a bit of drama! Pls remember that reblogs and comments are appreciated! Also feedback!

→ cliches: friends to lovers, heavy use of nicknames instead of Y/N, we're all just struggling college kids, Music Tutor! Eddie, Resident Assistant! Reader, good girl x bad boy, instant connections, 'I don't trust most people but I trust you', 'are we friends or more?', and 'I can't believe you're such a slut that you have a special dtf drawer...'

→ warnings: mature topics, insecurity, hurt and comfort, drinking and drug usage, strong language, bullying, mental health, discussion of suicide and self harm, mature thoughts, eventual smut, minors dni

→ pairing: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

<Previous Masterlist Next>

Chapter 9

Bug's POV

It was about a week later, you and Eddie getting ready for finals, ignoring the looming fact that you would be separated for a month. You were headed home briefly for the holidays (though you were postponing it as long as you could) and Eddie was staying with Steve up until Christmas Eve, then going to his Uncle Wayne’s. 

He had invited you to The Hideout again, Corroded Coffin playing for the town’s Krampusfest, a silly little tradition that consisted of some people dressed up like Santa or Krampus, a local market and food trucks, along with musicians playing at the local bar. You were in the crowd with the rest of the gang, all of them dressed appropriately. Steve and Robin wearing goofy matching Santa hats with their sweaters, both of them holding beers and laughing a little too loudly at the local artist selling goofy ceramic holiday themed dicks, the artist both blushing and beaming at their wonder. Jonathan and Argyle brought edibles, which made you laugh a bit in contrast to their ugly Christmas sweaters. Nancy was dressed in an absolutely adorable green sweater with a black skirt and tights, complete with a soft red bow in her hair, half of her hair pulled back.  

You were packed into the outdoor area of the Hideout, you and the rest of the gang off towards the side. You tried to ignore the swirling fear and sourness in your belly, nursing a cup of warm mulled wine, your heart getting that familiar squeeze. It didn’t slip past you that lately, more and more cute girls showed up to whistle at Eddie during his shows. In the crowd you spotted girls dressed to the nines, makeup flawless. They were looking around, hoping for Eddie. It’s not as if Eddie ever gave them the time of day. But you still felt like you were competing. I mean, the girls who showed up were so different from you. You felt yourself chewing on your lip before Steve and Robin caught your attention, the pair jumping up and down and screeching. You turned toward the stage to see Eddie and the rest of the band. Eddie clearly caught your eyes, his outfit making you salivate. scantily clad in a black cropped shirt with the sides almost entirely cut out, his tattoos and muscles out on display. His hair was down and he wore smudged black eyeliner with red glitter smeared across his eyelids, his guitar slung low across on his back. His blood red and diy patched jeans were tight and worn at the knees, making your mind swim with the last time he wore them.

Eddie on his knees, you laying on his bed, his hands spreading your legs as he looked up at you through thick lashes. Eddie’s lips wrapped around your-

You felt your face burst into flames as Eddie stared at you with a smirk, clearly reading your thoughts. He winked at you, grinning devilishly. Your heart melted, your skin tingling as Eddie strolled up to the microphone, grinning. He gripped it with his hands, looking out among the crowd before speaking. 

“Hey Hawkins…How we doin’ tonight?!,” Eddie cheered, the crowd erupting into screams. 

“Now we got a very special show for you all, full of holiday cheer or whatever the fuck they told me to say,” He cheekily joked, earning an eye roll from you as he grinned. 

“Alright…Let’s go!,” Eddie screamed energetically, throwing his guitar back around to be at his front, immediately beginning to play, the venue thumping with the bass of the speakers, the rest of the band jumping on immediately, the crowd going wild. You smiled, cheering along. 

Eddie performed his heart out, per usual. He was dripping with sweat, bounding up and down the stage and hopping on speakers, his deep yet melodic voice ringing through the crowd. He quipped jokes between songs, earning laughs from the crowd. Your heart soared with his performance, seeing his personality shine so vibrantly. 

But you felt the energy shift as he stopped to take a drink of water, your heart squeezed at Eddie’s sudden solemness as he approached the microphone. He sighed softly, looking up into your eyes. You felt his warm brown irises stare into you, your brows furrowed as you tried to read his expression. You tried to mouth to him to ask what was wrong, but he just shook his head softly, lips tugged up slightly in a smile Then he cleared his throat. 

“So I’m gonna get sappy here for a minute,” He began, earning a joking boo from Steve, to which he pointed at him in the crowd and teased, “Shut up, Harrington. I know where you live.” The crowd giggled a bit, people anxiously awaiting Eddie’s speech. 

“Anyways…This next song is a bit slower, a bit sweeter. And yeah, I know, that’s not the Corroded Coffin brand. But…,” He trailed off, meeting your eyes once again, sitting against a stool on the edge of the stage, his presence making the rest of the crowd fade away. 

“Sometimes people come into your life who completely shake everything up. But in the best way. Before this year, I was feeling out of place, in a new town, and absolutely depressed. I was handling online bullies and being alone. I wanted nothing more than to fade away. And sure, I came out of it, but I was a changed person. I was guarded. I didn’t connect with strangers. I mean, fuck, Harrington knows. I stayed in my bubble,” Eddie joked, smiling. You felt your own cheeks tug up a bit as your heart raced. 

Eddie’s voice got soft and raspy. “And then I met her. The most selfless person with the biggest heart…a fuckin’ worrywart if I’ve ever met one,” Eddie teased, his eyes glinting with mischief as he beamed at you, a laugh leaving your lips as your eyes watered. 

“She came to me and I couldn’t help but…just…melt. She understood me, and was patient. She made me feel seen. She was the first person to make me feel like I didn’t have to prove myself. And she’s so blind to how amazing she is. How sweet she can be, how much I feel my heart beat for her. She’s made me want to open up. To be better. To be vulnerable and…myself,” He choked out, your heart squeezed and your tears spilling over as you smiled. Your heart floated up, your stomach fluttering at his words. You felt your legs itch to run up to him, to wrap yourself in him and never let go. 

Eddie’s eyes were glossy as he looked up at you, his voice raspy as he grabbed for the acoustic guitar by him, his smile soft and face sincere. 

“Bug…My girl…Baby…This is for you,” He rasped out, his voice sending more flutters to your stomach, your heart soaring. You felt your friend group staring at you, Steve in the background, whisper yelling at Robin ‘I fucking knew it!’.

You felt your heart soar as Eddie looked you in the eyes, the crowd quiet and instead listened to Eddie’s voice, his tone driving goosebumps up your skin. His words swirled around you, your heart squeezed by the lyrics, their implications. 

You were his moon and stars, his breath of fresh air. 

His heart was in your hands, his trust in you blind. 

He wanted to wake up and sleep next to you, make you coffee. 

He finally felt a reason for breathing. 

You felt your tears overflow, your heart squeezed and your stomach full of fluttering, your smile growing as you smiled and cried, eyes focused on Eddie, who kept meeting your gaze, eyes glossed as he sang, his smile soft. 

It was just you two. 

And goddamn, you were lucky. 

You waited anxiously with your friends outside the green room, bouncing on your toes. You wanted to tackle Eddie. Pummel him with kisses and never let him go. 

His girl. 

He called you his girl. 

When he came out of the room, your friends all began to congratulate him and speak to him, but he just met your eyes. Immediately, Eddie walked over and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into a bruising kiss. You melted into his arms, your heart soaring. You faintly heard Nancy usher away the friend group, Steve protesting loudly. When you finally pulled away, you looked into Eddie’s warm and twinkling eyes, your heart squeezed.

“Let’s get out of here, hm?,” Eddie whispered, his nose brushing yours, your heart racing as you nodded, mind foggy with Eddie Eddie Eddie. 

You could hardly wait. 

The moment you and Eddie entered his room, his mouth was on you, his touch anywhere he could reach. His kisses were passionate, his warm lips igniting a fire in you. 

He seemed to be fueled by the same feverish desire as you, breaking his kisses to start nipping and kissing your neck. His groans against your skin seemed to just push the feelings off the deep end. 

“Fuck…Y/N. You drive me crazy.” 

You whimpered, head thrown back, nails clawing at his back, realizing somewhere in your lusty daze, you and Eddie had both removed your offensive clothing, at least on the upper half. 

“Please, Eddie…” 

He got to work on quickly removing the jeans covering your lower half and your underwear, pulling you to his bed, quickly setting his mouth on you as you laid down, his kisses trailing down, quick to lick and kiss your breasts, his lips leaving a blazing trail down to your center. He looked up at you, voice rasped. 

“Let me know if you ever want to stop. Because if not, I plan on going all the way.” 

A shiver passed through you at his words, the acknowledgement of how you were about to have your first time with Eddie inside you, the line crossed. You nodded weakly, feeling the desire between your legs grow as your heart skipped a beat. 

Eddie looked up at you through his long lashes, continuing to leave soft kisses at your inner thighs before licking a long stripe up your center, his wet tongue making your toes curl. You felt his tongue circle your clit, occasionally sucking it into his mouth before letting it go with a pop and dipping his tongue into your center. He continued this pattern, the waves of pleasure making you begin to almost start dripping. You knew you were done for when he added his fingers, using his thumb to rub your clit while messily eating you out. You practically rose off the bed, moans echoing in his room as he finished before he rose up.  Eddie wiped at his mouth, a smirk tugging up his lips as he shimmied out of his jeans and crawled over you, reaching into his bedside drawer, pulling out a condom. 

“You want this?,” He asked, voice graveled and sending a soft shiver throughout you. You nodded, looking in his dark eyes, the makeup making him seem even more like a vision of lust, his eyes burning with desire. 

“Yes.” 

He tore the wrapper with his teeth, quick to put the condom on and hold himself over you with his arms braced on either side of your head. He fidgeted a bit with himself before looking into your eyes, his warm and full of concern, searching yours. 

“Let me know if you ever want to stop,” He whispered softly. 

You nodded in acknowledgement, slightly parting your legs more to make room for him, eyes staring into his, the warm brown simultaneously making you shiver and melt in his gaze. He lined himself up with your entrance, his head pressing against you as you fought a whimper. He slowly pushed in, fighting a growl, the vein on the side of his neck visible. 

You felt a slight tug of pain that dulled when you stayed still for a moment, recognizing that Eddie was decently sized and you hadn’t had sex in a while. Not penetrative, anyways. 

Eddie waited for you to claw at his back and whimper before he started rolling his hips, the rhythm steady and slow, yet still somehow making you see stars. You felt the pleasure deep in your bones as he kissed you, his lips mumbling his feelings for you. You felt yourself claw at his back and run fingers through his curls, making him groan softly. 

Despite the waves of pleasure, you were so present in the moment. The bubble of seclusion you two had built. How his skin was so warm and felt right against you, and how his thrusts filled you in a way that made your heart overflow with feeling. 

Eddie continued to kiss your neck, muttering praises. He shook with how he was feeling and what he was holding back. You knew slow and passionate wasn’t usually Eddie’s style. But by God, did you feel the pieces of your soul crack open and become enveloped in his warmth. 

By the time you were cumming, your back was arched, your mouth back on his, your heart pounding, and body completely boneless. He continued to make you see stars as he worked you through your orgasm, making you finish twice. 

He came with a groan, eyes rolling and head falling forward into your neck as he shook. 

It was magic. 

After that night, you two spoke in hushed whispers, agreeing that despite not being relationship people, you’d be fools to deny each other any longer. 

You both had made the other fall to pieces multiple times that night, testing out the waters with new pet names. 

Baby. 

Darling. 

My sun. 

My moon. 

Had it been any other couple, you and Eddie would’ve giggled over the ridiculousness. 

But to the two of you…It felt right. 

It became a highlight you often got lost in thought about during classes, blushing when you snapped out of it. It wasn’t helping either that for some reason, some of you classmates seemed a lot more hostile to you. 

Two days after you and Eddie established your relationship, a leggy blonde shoulder checked you in your Psych 101 course, making you confused and angry. 

And that wasn’t the end of it. 

People were giving you glares, some downright rolling their eyes if you ever dared ask a question in class. 

It built up when you were hanging around the desk with a fellow coworker, discussing a future program plan you had for next semester. 

Your boss came up to you, her brows furrowed. 

“Hey Y/N? Can I talk to you?” 

You frowned a bit, giving an apologetic wave at your friend before walking with your supervisor to her office, sitting on the couch across from her desk, your stomach churning with anxiety. 

Sure you’d been going out more and whatnot, but you were still there for your residents…weren’t you? 

She sat at her desk, giving you a sympathetic look before sighing. 

“You’re not in trouble, so don’t worry about that. Some stuff had been brought to my attention and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” She stated, looking at you intently. 

You furrowed your brows, your stomach twisting in knots. “Yeah…I’m fine. What’s this about?”

She frowned, looking worried. “Well…I’ve been notified by some residents about some possible cyberbullying. Mostly an account directed towards you,” She clarified, her voice soft. 

Your heart dropped. You weren’t huge on social media and honestly had been focused on exams and figuring out how to see Eddie during the holidays. You nodded, swallowing. 

“Oh. Um, I haven’t seen anything but, I mean…Thank you for the heads up,” You tried to keep your voice even, your hands shaking. 

She nodded and looked at you sincerely. “Just know if you ever want to talk about it or need help reporting, I’m here.” 

You nodded, standing up and exiting the office in a daze. 

What was happening?

You were sitting with some of your residents, studying with them, smiling and waving hi to some of them as they passed by the study area, them smiling back  and waving. 

You were midway through your notes, the common space still quiet and some of your residents studying beside you. One of your more outgoing residents, Aya, sat beside you. A group of her friends came in and handed you some candy, all your favorites. You smiled softly, your heart strings tugged. Aya was an outgoing resident who faced her first major breakup and came to you. You were quick to play dorm mom, letting her rant and cry and even getting her some ice cream from the campus market, letting her eat the pint while she complained. She had begun to view you as a mentor since then. 

“Look, I wouldn’t usually say anything but you’re one of the best RA’s in this damn dorm and you are always sticking up for us as residents. Just be careful with some snakes around here,” She whispered, her friends nodding behind her, looking like they were ready to jump to your defense. You felt your heart squeeze while your stomach twisted. 

Clearly this account was subtweeting you or something. Nevertheless, having some of your sweet kiddos on your side made you feel a sense of relief. 

“Thanks, you guys. Now, go study. Don’t worry about me, I got this,” You whispered back, ignoring your other residents looking over at you curiously. You skin crawled with the thought that someone could be out there spreading lies or even bullying you without your awareness. 

Aya nodded before suddenly hugging you, whispering. “We’re here if you need someone to kick ass.” You laughed a bit at the statement, shaking your head as she pulled away. 

The group waved bye before retreating to Aya’s dorm, stealing glances over to you, clearly worried over your wellness. 

You pushed down the growing discomfort you felt, trying to remember that you needed to focus on finals. 

On a late night while taking a break from studying, you finally caved, deciding to try and find out what the account was. It took no more than a few seconds before you found it, your stomach bubbling with anger, fear, and sorrow. 

There was both a Twitter and Instagram chock full of photos taken off of your own accounts or random candid pictures of you. The messages scribbled across the images and posted on twitter all reflected the same idea. 

Skank. Whore. Munson’s groupie. 

How does he like her? She’s so plain. 

Can’t believe she works for the uni…thought she was his full time whore? 

You felt your heart stop as you tried to gasp for air, eyes watering. The account had hundreds of likes and followers, which wasn’t insane but…made you want to crawl out of your skin. 

You felt your eyes water as your thoughts swirled. 

Robin and Eddie were both rarely on social media, the two of them even worse at paying attention to media trends than you. 

And Steve had an Instagram but it was private. 

So it made sense why you’d only become aware of it now. 

And fuck, if the comments didn’t get worse. 

Wow…she’s desperate huh? Lol

Can’t believe Eddie ditched the chance with Chrissy for this slut 

I bet she is crazy, that’s why he’s tied down now

You felt your chest begin to heave as your body was wracked by sobs. You felt like small daggers were being hurled under your skin, making your skin crawl and heart ache. 

Why you? 

They were asking the questions you wondered yourself, knowing you were dating a boy who shone like a star, a boy destined for greatness. And you were just…you. 

And god, did that hurt. 

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