willowlovesthingsss

[willowlovesthingsss]

18+ Perv! Steve Harrington x Perv! reader, F reader, friends to lovers, scent kink, reader being a bit of a creep but Steve's into it because duh, masturbation (f) sexual acts in public, mentions of and allusions to oral sex (f)

WC: 5K

A/N: I was going to split this into two parts but fuck it. Two for one special. Still feeling rusty when it comes to writing so go easy on me, yeah? Also, this one's kind of gross at times. Just a little bit. Nothing extreme but just letting you know incase you're someone who gets squeamish easily. Enjoy!

The hair? sure. Everyone liked his hair.

People usually fell into two camps when it came to Steve Harrington's signature do; either they envied it or they hoped to be one of the lucky ones who got to run their fingers through it.

You used to daydream about the latter when you only knew him from afar but now that he no longer ran with a particular kind of crowd, now that he's just Steve and no longer the King, you managed to get close enough to find out that he smelled nice too.

Really nice.

So, figuring out that he used women's shampoo shouldn't have been the revelation that it was because it made so much sense, his tresses never scented with a wintry pine or spicy cedarwood like most scent profiles marketed to men.

You had your friends to thank for your stumbling upon that discovery, the group of them arriving at your home to bully you out of your PJ's and into a pair of jeans and shoes, uprooting you from your room on a Saturday afternoon for an outing to the fancy part of the mall.

While they searched for new make-up, you wandered a section of the store by yourself, uncapping the pretty bottles in the hair care aisle whenever the sales assistants' attention wandered elsewhere, squeezing each one carefully to sample the array of scents. You did this idly and with no real plans to purchase anything, just something to pass the time while your friends crowded another display a few aisles away, chattering blissfully and swatching lipsticks.

Picking up a fifth shampoo from the lineup of bottles, you brought the uncapped rim up to your face, lightly skimming your cupids bow with it as you gently inhaled. While fun, you'd spent most of your time at the mall feeling a little bored, a small part of you still desiring to go back home where you could lounge and laze in peace. That was until you began to recognize the scent of the newest shampoo you had clutched in your hand, the familiarity of it triggering a whirlpool of memories.

In seconds, your mind plunged back to the night of Jack Sullivan's graduation party. The first time Steve Harrington had spoken to you – really spoken to you since he’d parted ways with Carol and Tommy, seeming much more approachable than he had in the past.

The two of you had ended up sharing the patio swing outside where the air wasn't as thick with smoke and the smell of spilled booze. Making conversation, he offered you a beer he'd originally intended to give Robin before she'd slipped away into one of the guest bathrooms with your best friend Sally. You both knew why, sharing a look of understanding but never mentioning the obvious out loud out of loyalty to your friends.

Then there was the only day it rained in July, remembering the way your fingers brushed against his as you handed him your umbrella. You'd discovered him taking refuge under the awning of the diner you worked at that morning, face twisted all worrisome as he looked up from his wristwatch to the downpour in front of him, forced into walking to work that day due to his car still being in the shop. The only light that shone that day was the gleaming smile he gave you when he thanked you for your kindness.

And then there was the time when you had your head down while scanning a tape at Family Video, bumping face first into Steve's chest when you rounded the corner, his name tag catching on your bottom lip. It was the tiniest sliver of a cut, barely noticeable or painful but oh, how he fussed over you like you were made of porcelain. He’d gone so far as to sit you down on his chair behind the counter as if you might collapse from blood loss at any moment, whizzing into the break room and back with a fist full of napkins to dab the miniscule wound that had already stopped bleeding.

All of those memories and more linked by one scent. This scent.

With your pupils dilating like a cat prepared to pounce, you flipped the bottle over to read the contents.

White frangipani blossoms, toasted coconut, bergamot waters, sea salt breeze and sunkissed musk.

Steve Harrington in a bottle. And the quickest 16 dollars you've ever spent.

And with that purchase came the self-imposed reminder to exercise caution. Upon leaving the mall with your friends, your mood much chipper than when you'd arrived, you made sure to hardly ever use the shampoo when you bathed, afraid that if Steve smelled it on you later, somehow, he'd be able to put the pieces together and know why you'd bought it, even as wildly unlikely as that seemed.

So instead, you huffed the bottle in private on most days, only using it when you knew you'd be spending the day at home. On those eagerly awaited days you luxuriated in the scent as you applied the shampoo in your shower, mind and fingers wandering, working your peaked nipples and your firm clit up to the thought of Steve joining you in your shower and fucking you dumb – tits pressed up against the cold, wet tiles, ass bouncing on his hips as he stretched you open and used you well.

But now that you'd discovered this new kind of hunger you had to make sure to keep it well fed and when the shampoo didn't feel like enough anymore, you set out to purchase his cologne.

The scent was one you had memorized from all of your trips to the video store, hanging around the counter while Steve talked to you about which movie you ought to rent next. You could smell it on his neck whenever he leaned in close on his elbows, face inches away from yours, wishing he'd close the distance and meet your lips with his.

Another trip to the mall had you scouring the men's section like a wolf tracking the scent of injured prey, sampling bottle after bottle of cologne until you found it.

Aromatic sage, dark tonka bean and rich sandalwood. Priced at a cool $39.50 which you gladly forked over because to you, it was all money well spent.

The cologne became part of your nightly routine after that, dabbing drops of the heady scent on your body when you went to bed, the smell making your arousal climb before lulling you to sleep an orgasm later, evoking dreams of Steve throughout the night that made you wake up to your panties all damp and sticking to your core by morning.

You were content that way, the shampoo and the cologne enough to satiate your fixation on the way Steve smelled all while managing to maintain your friendship with him without things becoming weird.

What ended up shattering that peace however was running into him a few weeks later coming out of the Y, just done with a game of basketball as he spotted you passing by and happily waved you down.

He smiled at you just as brightly as he had all those months ago in July, this time dressed in his gym clothes; a pair of green shorts that showed off the thickness of his toned, hairy thighs and a grey t-shirt, the sleeves filled out well by his tanned biceps and its collar darkened by sweat.

Up close, you could smell the exertion on him and that was what became your undoing.

It took every iota of self-control not to rush him to the ground and pin him beneath you, feeling more and more like a caged animal the longer the conversation went on and you were forced to compose yourself.

It was the kind of scent you wanted to sink into, more so than the cologne or the shampoo because this was Steve completely unadulterated – that earthy musk, that rugged, almost spicy all-natural scent that you wouldn't be able to find on any shelf.

Barely managing to hold it together until parting ways with him, you knew you wouldn't be able to rest without it, mind already working to devise a plan.

~

"Risve- what?"

You chuckled as the word died on Steve's tongue, knowing he'd trip up on the pronunciation. Reaching for a pen and a scrap of paper sitting on the counter, you wrote the word down for him. "Risvegli. It's Italian", you explain, handing it to him as you do your best to repress the shiver that runs through you when his slender fingers graze yours, trying hard to quieten your mind after all the ways you’ve imagined those very fingers touching you in your most sensitive places.

"It's kind of an obscure flick but I like that sort of stuff. D'you think you could have a look and see if you've got a copy in the back?", you try not to bat your lashes too much when you ask, not wanting to overplay the sweetness to the point that it comes off as insincere or worse, suspicious.

Steve looks down to study the paper, cheeks dusted a pretty pink, you can’t help but notice. The ends of his hair are still damp from his shower at the Y, just as you expected now that you knew which days he spent there before clocking in for work.

"For you? Definitely", he looked back up and smiled at you in that way that made your heart somersault. "Be right back". He leaves you alone at the counter and you make sure to wait for him to disappear out of sight into the back, stamping down a flash of guilt for having sent him off to search for a movie that didn't exist to buy you time.

You'd planned it all last night, stepping away from the counter before heading towards the employee break room, able to sneak in without fear of running into Robin because you knew she'd be spending the day with Sally on her day off from working at the diner.

Steve’s duffle bag is in plain view as you shut the door to the little room behind you quietly, resting on a chair that'd been pulled out from the table where you imagined he probably shared his lunch breaks with Robin.

Striding up to it, you find the zipper and tentatively, you pull it open to reveal the contents. What you're looking for is balled up at the very top, picking up the sweat damp t-shirt with clammy, trembling fingers. You're really crossing a line this time and you know it, your teeth close to piercing the soft skin of your bottom lip as you bite down on it but you can't deny that there's just something so exhilarating about the whole thing too. The lying, the sneaking around, the risk – it's all a little too much and your mind grows foggy with it, dulling your once sharp intuition and giving way to a moment of weakness that has you abandoning caution now that you're alone.

Waiting to do indulge your urges until you're safe at home feels impossible now that you've got your hands on it, eagerly pressing your nose into the damp t-shirt, eyes nearly rolling back as you filled your lungs with the smell of him. It must have been the pheromones, it had to be, awakening that primal kind of desire in you that had you parting your lips and pressing the tip of your tongue to one of the sweat stains, sucking on the sour, salty musk that had soaked into the cotton.

What you're doing is so dirty, damn near repulsive and knowing that just fuels you even more as you begin to salivate. You're too wrapped up in the earthy scent of him, too lost in the taste to notice when the door handle jiggles behind you, too drunk on the sick thought of what Steve’s used boxers must smell like if you were to pull those out of his duffle next when all of a sudden, it's too late.

The door to the break room swings open and in walks Steve, the world screeching to a sickening standstill when his eyes fall on you.

Your own eyes bulging, you watch in mute horror as he takes in the sight before him, the scrap of paper you'd handed him earlier slipping from between his thumb and forefinger, fluttering to the floor like the wings of a dying butterfly.

It's impossible to know what he's thinking. Is it disgust? if so, he hid it well. Bewilderment? You weren't sure. Ice crackles over your bones as the two of you stare for a few seconds longer, Steve's expression still unreadable.

The whole thing's all the more uncomfortable because of the way he continues to watch you like you’re something to be studied, looking contemplative as you trembled in place, wishing for the ground to break open beneath your feet and swallow you away into a never-ending crevasse.

But as the seconds tick by and the ground stays perfectly intact you're left to seek your own respite.

Despite what feels like the blood retreating from your veins, your body shifts into auto pilot as you wordlessly place the rumpled t-shirt back in Steve's duffel and do the only thing you can do in a fucked up situation like this – walk away. Even as he tries to call after you, you ignore his shouts, continuing on a path towards and out the exit, mortified.

You don't go back to Family Video after that. In fact, you avoid that entire street for a whole week.

The days following being caught out by Steve were some of the worst you've had to endure. Shame made a home in your body, making you ache with a belly full of thorns and your thoughts growing increasingly heavy and abrasive as they flood your throbbing head.

For those seven days you carried around the dread of knowing that Steve had discovered that secret side of you, the feeling worsening at the thought of him telling others what he had seen and rendering you some kind of town pariah – even though a tiny, hopeful whisper inside your raucous head told you that he probably hadn't said anything, at least not yet since Sally hadn't even seemed to have gotten word of the incident from Robin.

But that's all it was. A tiny, fleeting whisper that did nothing to calm you.

At home, you buried yourself in your blankets, letting your anxieties exhaust you to sleep and at work you moved as if you were fighting your way through thick slurry – slow and dragging your body from table to table, unsmiling as you took patrons' meal orders and served them their food.

You continued like that all throughout your shift, waiting for the moment you could peel your polyester uniform off in favour of your own clothes and drive yourself home. With only 30 minutes left before closing, your shoulders which had been pulled tight all day with tension began to sag, a momentary wash of relief coursing through you. That was until you smelled it – smelled him.

Whipping around, your stomach plummets when your eyes fall on Steve walking through the door – and to make things worse, he’s carrying that duffle on his shoulder.

He's yet to have spotted you, taking a seat at one of the empty booths though you notice the way his eyes are scanning the diner, searching.

It's obvious that you’re the one he’s looking for as worry courses down your spine like a lightning strike. Was he going to confront you? right here? in front of all these people? Normally you wouldn’t peg Steve as someone who’d do something so cruel but after what he’d caught you doing, a little public humiliation doesn’t seem all that undeserved, you had to admit.

So, carefully you retreat into the breakroom without drawing his attention, pulling a perplexed Sally along with you once you'd caught hold of her by her elbow.

Once safely inside, you all but blubber in her face, begging her to wait on Steve's table, even promising her all your tips for the next week in exchange.

Seeing the distress contorting your face must have made her feel sorry for you because she pulls you in for a quick, tight hug, running her hand up and down your back in an attempt to calm you. You'd only given her little snippets of what had happened at the video store, making sure to alter a few details for the sake of concealing how far you’d actually gone that day. To her, the gist of it was that you'd embarrassed yourself horribly and that was all she really needed to know, springing into action as the compassionate best friend to the rescue.

"I've got it, okay? just breathe", she'd repeated soothingly into your hair, giving you a quick squeeze and her best reassuring smile before you reluctantly unwind your hands from around her, allowing her to step out of the break room ahead of you.

Outside again, thirty minutes drag on like hours while you purposely stick to the part of the diner that's furthest away from Steve's table. You don't dare look at him but you do sneak a glance when Sally walks by with his order, a single black coffee and nothing else which he sips leisurely while you tremble.

If his plan was to confront you then what the hell was he waiting for? There was nothing stopping him from walking up to you while sweat collects between your shoulder blades as you clear the tables of customers who’ve settled their bill and since left. Nothing to prevent him from stepping up to the counter while you nervously rubbed the surface of it free of crumbs and stains to demand an explanation for your bizarre behavior last week. Nothing to stop him from simply walking up to you at any moment and ask to know what the fuck your deal was.

But he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he finishes his coffee and casually waves down Sally for the bill while smiling politely. Somehow that causes you even more unease.

In that moment you lose sight of Steve when you’re called over to serve the only other table of customers left, a family of five keen to fit in one last round of milkshakes before they call an end to their meal.

You see to their order despite your shaking limbs, returning with a tray crowded with the cold, sweet drinks, setting each one down carefully in front of the smiling children and their parents before you head back behind the counter with your tray clutched close to your chest. The whole thing must have taken you ten minutes and when you sneak one more look in Steve’s direction you find his booth empty this time.

Eyes frantically searching the diner, you manage to catch a final glimpse of him walking out the front door, bell chiming above him as he departs, leaving the diner and you with even more questions than you had when he'd first arrived.  

Had Steve changed his mind? Had he just wanted to make you sweat for the hell of it? Taken pleasure in watching you try to keep it together in his presence while you traipsed around the diner all too carefully like a petrified newborn deer?

Why had he shown up at all today if he wasn’t going to...do anything?

You get your answer fifteen minutes later when wearily, you trudge into the staff room at the end of your shift, pulling open your locker and all but fainting at the sight of what’s been placed inside beside your belongings.

Neatly folded inside is Steve's grey t-shirt, the same one you'd tried unsuccessfully to "borrow" last week The scent of him is instantly recognizable as you inhale shakily, fingers reaching out to touch the slightly damp cotton to confirm to yourself that you weren’t in fact hallucinating the whole thing.

When your pulse starts to settle and the static crackling in your ears starts to cease you notice a little scrap of folded paper placed inside too. Picking it up and pulling it open, it's with a deep, dreamy sigh that your chest blooms with sunny warmth as you read the note, a smile gracing your lips for the first time in a week.

Three months later...

The only good thing about working the graveyard shift at the diner was that Steve always insisted on coming in an hour before you clocked out so he could drive you home.

Occupying one of the booths inside the sleepy diner, he'd keep himself busy with his phone while you worked, perking up whenever you came by to freshen up his coffee or sneak him a piece of pie he hadn't ordered with all his favorite fixings.

It was during those moments that he liked to have a little fun with you, quickly surveying the room to make sure no customers or staff were looking over in your direction before he'd slip his fingers under your skirt and pinch your ass. Sometimes you'd see it coming and other times he'd catch you off guard, cruel delight curling his lips into a smirk whenever you had to stifle your surprised squeals.

And that's as far as he usually took, patiently waiting until he could get you in his car for more but today felt different.

With no new customers coming in in the last two hours, Sally had taken to the break room to work in a nap while the kitchen staff had stepped out back to smoke and deal cards to pass the time. That left just you working the front with Steve as the diner's only patron.

Having no one else around meant you could flirt freely with him now, making sure to look over your shoulder every now and then just incase to make sure you didn't get caught.

You spent that time alone together with his boot gently tapping against your shoe under the table, reaching out and fiddling with his fingers because you always liked to be touching him while you happily teased each other as the minutes passed by.

Somewhere in the middle of your playful banter you noticed Steve's cup was now empty, picking yourself up from the booth to bring over more coffee. As you leaned over the edge of the table to pour, you anticipated the glide of his fingers on your thigh, inching up your skirt to situate them between your legs.

"You're going to get me fired one of these days", you chide him, still holding on to the pot of coffee once you'd finished refilling his cup.

"Good – then I can have you all to myself", he teased back, index finger drawing patterns on your inner thigh, just a few inches below the lacy trim of your panties.

"Steve", you attempt to scold but there's barely any heat there for him to take it seriously, fingers daring to trail higher.

Meeting his heavy gaze, you watch him search your eyes for a moment, the soft smirk that had been tugging at the corner of his lips slowly fading away as something more serious clouds his expression when he leans forward to whisper to you.

"No one's around, baby. Please? Can I?"

It takes you a second before you know exactly what he's asking for without needing him to specify, heat rising up from the depths of your chest and gathering in your cheeks.

He's got that look in his eyes too and you know that this is what it must have looked like the day he caught you with your face buried in his sweaty t-shirt. That feverish glint of potent want making his iris' gleam.

"Steve, it's too risky", you try to reason quietly despite the way your thighs are already parting for him, allowing him to skim the pads of his fingers over the seat of your panties, teasing your waiting folds through the thin later of fabric.

"Never stopped you before", he's quick to reply with wink, making you grow warmer at the reminder.

He's got you beat there.

"I promise I'll be quick", he pleads again softly and it's almost comical how quickly you buckle under the weight of his needy gaze.

"Shit, okay", you concede as you step closer to the edge of the booth and he pulls himself closer too, hand moving higher to cup your ass under your skirt.

You sigh contently when Steve leans forward and presses his nose against the front of your uniform, right over the juncture between your legs. You're careful to keep your grip tight on the handle of the coffee pot you're still carrying when he takes in a deep breath, inhaling your scent right through your clothes.

Steve liked to joke that you brought out this side of him, the one that made the both of you realize how alike you really were.

It started with the way he liked to linger between your legs after he'd finished eating you out. Your ruined panties spilled out of his back pocket, never to be returned to you as he took his time pressing sweet kisses against your swollen folds and spent clit with his sticky lips, clearly pleased with himself as you fought to catch your breath from the orgasm that'd rippled through you.

And as things progressed, he wasn't secretive about wanting to fuck you so hard and often that the smell of you would linger in the air long after you were done. Or how he liked to nestle his nose in the curls on your mound once he'd finished laving at your pussy – the moreish combination of sweat, saliva and your natural musk making his twitching cock stiffen all over again as he rut into the mattress for a second time, painting his sticky boxers with another generous load.

Other times he'd get on his knees for you, pulling you close by your hips so he could place his face against your clothed cunt and mumble dreamy praises about how good your pussy smelled. And you always loved it when he got like that, even now as your free hand strokes lazily through his caramel hair, letting him do this to you in the middle of your place of work, your coworkers unaware but not far away enough that they couldn't walk in at any moment and find the two of you like this.

"Stevie", you whined softly as you tried to get his attention, a reluctant reminder that the two of you should probably stop before it's too late.

"Jus' a little more, please? need it to tide me over before I can get you alone". His eyes are all glazed over when he looks up at you, tentatively slipping his other hand up the front of your thigh to hitch up the hem of your skirt ever so slightly, his gaze all pleading as he waits for your permission.

With the way he's managed to work you up, your panties more that a little tacky from his attention and your belly tightening with warmth, how could you possibly refuse when you needed this just as badly as he did?

"Fuck. Yes, okay – just be careful", you urge gently because 'be quick' doesn't seem likely anymore.

A look of pure bliss breaks out on his reddening face. "Christ. Thank you, baby", Steve groans appreciatively, pushing your skirt up to expose your panties before burying his face against your clothed mound. He can feel the outline of your cunt perfectly when he's this close – so soft and plump, his mounting greed has him battling the urge to pull the soaked cotton down to your knees and start sucking the tangy slick from your pretty, swollen pussy lips before pressing deeper to lick at your tight hole and all it has to offer.

Restraining himself, he lets out a muffled moan against your core that has your clit swelling and throbbing, your eyes slipping shut while you give yourself to him. It's almost soothing the way he savors you so shamelessly, head partially ducked underneath your rucked up skirt, fingers gently squeezing your ass with his blunt nails making light indents in your skin.

You let him breathe you in for a while longer until you begin to feel a little floaty and more than a little needy from it all, expecting Steve to pull away soon because how much longer could you get away with doing this in public? Stopping him isn't what you want, not really but you knew better than to push your luck by now.

But instead of him reluctantly withdrawing away from you, what you feel next is the wet drag of his tongue along your messy panties, warm, firm and sudden.

Although definitely not unwelcome, under the circumstances, the feeling of it startles you and you can't help but cry out with a yelp, arm jerking backwards as a splash of coffee makes its way onto the checkered diner floor.

Hearts hammering, the both of you rip apart from each other then, Steve with his wide eyes and ruffled hair as he plasters himself to his seat while you very nearly lose what's left of your balance when your shoes skid over the wet mess of spilled coffee. You manage to catch yourself though when you grab the edge of his table with your free hand, finally placing the damn coffee pot down to hurriedly pull your skirt back into place.

Silence overtakes the room as the both of you peer wordlessly in the direction of the kitchen and breakroom, waiting to see if you'd accidentally drawn the attention of any nearby diner staff.

Seconds turn into a minute and when no one comes through either of the doors you allow yourself to sigh out in relief, turning back to Steve.

"Shit. I'm sorry I couldn't help it – had to taste you, honey. You just – fuck, you just smell so fucking good. I needed a little more", he tries to explain when your eyes connect, his cheeks sheened with a thin layer of perspiration and flushed a deep pink.

You were foolish to think you could let him do all of that and endure waiting until the end of your shift to take things further in his car. Leaving him with his lips parted and his jaw slack, you stride away to the diner's entrance to quickly flip the 'open' sign over to read 'closed', rushing back to tug Steve up and out of his seat urgently, grinning when you catch sight of the stiff bulge straining in his jeans.

"Supply closet. Now. Need you to put that mouth of yours to good use."

[willowlovesthingsss]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Older! SugarDaddy! Steve Harrington x Reader • age gap (20-30 years) • use of ‘Daddy’ • mean dom/overprotective Steve • Eddie mention

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Thinking thoughts about an older Steve (40’s-50’s) who’s a successful businessman and happens to fall in love with a scandalously younger intern. There instantly exists a dom/sub dynamic, with Steve assuming the role of guardian and nurturer. Being your ‘daddy,’ is the most fulfilling thing he’s ever done. He loves making his girl feel special but sometimes to do that, he has to get a little mean…

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

…Objectifying you like you’re a doll to dress up, a pretty prop to show off at his company’s business parties…Steve finds a way to get inside you at each party, leading you into the bathroom or a room that’s supposed to be off limits to guests…Says you owe him for getting you that pretty dress to begin with. “Least you can do is let me fuck you in it,” Steve grunts into your ear, humping you over the edge of the nearest piece of furniture. He doesn’t care if he makes a little mess, leaking onto your dress. It just proves to everyone that you belong to Steve. “They’ll think, of course Harrington owns her,” he says of his associates. “She left the party wearing his cum on her dress, for Christ’s sake…”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Being talked down to/taught a lesson when you’ve been extra bratty… “Don’t get smart with me,” he tells you when your attitude needs an adjustment. “I know what’s best for you. I’m older and wiser, and I know your place. It’s about time you learned it too, young lady.” Steve snaps his fingers and points to the floor. “That’s your place,” he says. “Down.” He clicks his tongue like he’s training a dog, watching his bitch sink to her knees at his feet. Steve takes your chin in his hand and tilts your face to look at him. “Now doesn’t that feel good?,” he asks with a chauvinistic grin. “Doing what you’re told?”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Steve ‘sharing,’ you with his dealer Eddie for the first time. Eddie’s nervous, hanging back, not sure how to start. Steve’s his wealthiest customer; Eddie doesn’t want to piss him off. Steve’s standing there with a drink in his hand, watching Eddie being awkward, a sarcastic smirk on his handsome face. “Well don’t just stand there lookin’ like you want to fuck her, Munson,” Steve tells Eddie, tipping his drink toward you on the bed. “Go fuck her.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Steve turning you into a sopping mess with his fingers in the back of a limousine…Murmuring against your hair as his fingers slosh inside you, his thumb rapidly circling your clit. “Just let go, baby,” Steve urges gently. “Don’t worry about making a mess; Daddy’ll pay to have it cleaned.” He strums his fingers inside you, beckoning your orgasm closer. You whimper and choke on your sobs, trying to keep quiet so the driver doesn’t hear. Steve makes you come so hard, you feel your brain go mushy and blank. He hooks his fingers in your mouth and tugs your head back to look at him. Your dazed expression confirms that you’re completely fucked-stupid, not a thought in your head. “Aww baby,” Steve half chastises, half comforts you. “S’my pretty girl’s head all empty and dumb now? That’s okay.” He slides his thumb between your lips and tells you to suck. “Daddy fucked all those big ideas right out of your head, didn’t he? But you just rest, and I’m sure they’ll come back. Until they do-.” Steve smacks your ass, squeezing a chunk of your flesh with a growl. “You just enjoy being Daddy’s dumb little baby, alright? Let me think for the both of us…”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Going out with friends, leaving Steve alone at home… He tries not to be jealous, thinks it’s an immature emotion. Jealousy is a fault boys have, not grown, successful men like Steve. But he can’t help himself, wondering who you’re talking to at the club, who you’re dancing with, wondering what men might be looking at his girl thinking they have a chance with you?

He shows up at the club and immediately feels out of place. Everyone there is at least a decade younger than him. Steve scans the crowd of bouncing heads on the floor but doesn’t find yours. He pushes past a bunch of sweaty ‘punks,’ as he calls them and eventually sees you standing against a wall. Your shoulders are slouched, your hair a tangled mess from dancing. Steve can tell with one look that you’re wasted. He’ll have to discipline you for that later, but right now, Steve’s sole focus is on the sleazy jerk leering at you.

He’s got his palm against the wall you’re leaning against, caging you in. It’s obvious he’s trying to flirt and Steve is pissed. He strides up to you and puts his hand on your shoulder. “Baby,” he says. “Is this guy bothering you?”

It takes you a second to register that it’s Steve standing there, and when you do realize it’s him, you laugh in his face. He looks so silly and out of place, standing there in a fucking suit while everyone else is wearing club clothes. “I’m fine,” you slur back at him, adding with a little more attitude than Steve likes: “I can take care of myself, Daddy.”

The guy flirting with you looks between you and Steve, then points at Steve, laughing “wait, is this your old man??” Steve fucking loses it. He lets go of your shoulder and takes a swing at the punk, his fist hooking against his jaw. Something pops in Steve’s shoulder and he curses, knowing he’ll pay for it later. But knocking that kid on his ass will have been worth it.

Steve gets away with the assault because he’s buddies with the owner’s dad. But he does have to listen to you complain later while you’re holding ice on his shoulder, insisting you could have taken care of yourself. “No no,” Steve disagrees gently, pulling you in for a kiss. “That’s my job.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

[willowlovesthingsss]

Wait On Your Song Masterlist

A Steve Harrington x Henderson reader Stranger Things rewrite.

This is a real slow burn fic written primarily from the reader's perspective, but I do like to change it up sometimes. I use gender neutral language for the reader most of the time and don't plan on writing any smut.

Title based on Rock and Roll Suicide by David Bowie

Warnings: canon universe level violence/gore, use of Y/N

All chapters are also on AO3 here and tagged on this blog as #wait on your song.

Chapter 1: The Vanishing of Will Byers

Chapter 2: The Weirdo on Maple Street

Chapter 3: Holly Jolly

Chapter 4: The Body

Chapter 5: The Flea and The Acrobat

Chapter 6: The Monster

Chapter 7: The Bathtub

Chapter 8: The Upside Down

[willowlovesthingsss]

yup

good morning everyone pls enjoy some soft stevie smut

“God, honey. You feel like heaven, y’know that?” Steve’s voice is soothing in your ears, comforting and sure.

His right hand holds your left, on the blanket beside your head, his other arm propped to hold him up. Your sundress is rucked up around your hips, knees bent and feet planted, your legs trapping Steve’s body between them.

Overgrown grass surrounds you on all sides, the chirping of cicadas in nearby trees the soundtrack to your lovemaking. Someone could decide to trek this same field, theoretically, but probably not, because you’ve never seen anyone here before. It feels like your place with Steve. Carved out in this world just for the two of you.

He thrusts slowly into you, his shirt off and jeans pulled down his legs. His skin is sun-tanned and his shoulder blades are warm beneath your fingertips, your nails occasionally digging in to the buttery softness.

His nose presses into the crook of your neck as he kisses that spot, slowly moving up until he’s right beneath your jawline.

“Steve,” you whine softly, your entire body attuned to him.

He’s so warm against you, and paired with the golden hour sunshine you feel like you’re about to melt away into a cozy euphoria. He fucks you nice and easy, a lazy rocking of his hips that has you sighing each time he fills you completely.

Pretty hazel eyes watch you carefully, heavy-lidded and filled with adoration. Those warm brown sugar locks of his fall in his face, tickling your nose when he bends down to catch your lips in a searing kiss.

“You’re just unreal,” he murmurs, bringing a finger to your clit. He rubs it in steady circles as your back arches beneath him. “My pretty baby,” he praises.

“Mmm,” you moan, barely audible, both of you allowing the moment to be mostly silent. There’s something about the sounds of him rocking against you, his lips molding to yours. It’s like your own little intimate symphony.

When he brings you to release you pant out his name over and over, a gentle string of worship. He kisses you stupid, his tongue carefully exploring your mouth as he finishes right after you.

Your eyes flutter open, counting the freckles on his face, watching him watch you. The cicadas are still chirping, the gentle breeze still blowing through the grass. And your love for Steve is increased tenfold.

[willowlovesthingsss]

quick little blurb abt this thought i got in my inbox a while ago steve harrington x gn!reader just suggestive fluff/ post-coital bliss :) 18+

Steve's fingers draw slow, methodical circles where they meet the small of your back-- his wiry chest hair tickling your nose where your head rests on his chest.

"You fallin' asleep on me?" He asks, barely parting his lips to do so. You can hear it in the way his words slur with the weighted bliss of the moment you're both suspended in.

You don't answer verbally, only shaking your head lethargically against him. The hand that's not tracing your back moves to caress the side of your face instead, tucking stray hairs behind your ear with the delicateness one might handle a flower petal.

He kisses the supple plush of your lips, his tongue sliding languidly against your own. Nothing like the way he had been ravishing you just twenty minutes ago.

The palm cradling your face travels south to where your leg is propped on top of his groin, softening beneath you with each minute that passes. For someone who doesn't want you to fall asleep, he's sure making it impossible not to-- every touch pulling you further into the vast ocean of unconsciousness. You don't fret though, knowing you'll see him there, too. Even in your dreams.

Steve's soft breaths cascade over your forehead where it meets your hairline. He places kiss after kiss there until asking, "Wanna take a bath with me?"

And how could you bear to deny him when he asks so sweetly? Even if the absence of his body heat and the sweat cooling on your skin leaves you shivering under your downy cotton sheets.

You can hear him floundering about in the ensuite: opening and closing cupboards, twisting the shower's diverters until the temperature of the water is just right. You like it a little too hot, if you ask Steve, but he doesn't mind overheating for you.

He reenters the bedroom, scooping up your still naked body and carrying you to the bathroom against his chest. Thankfully, there's no need for either of you to get undressed; having gotten so familiar with each other's bodies over the years, it was like he was just an extension of yourself.

The steaming water hits your skin as you're lowered into the tub by Steve, the temperature relaxing you immediately. This was your favorite post-sex ritual-- too tired to shower, but just awake enough to enjoy each other's company a little longer before bed.

Steve slots in the tub behind you, wrapping you up in his muscly thighs and biceps like the most comfortable security blanket. You've never felt safer than when he held you like this.

"Want me to wash your hair?" You ask him over your shoulder.

A tender smile tugs at the corners of his lips, "Only if you want to, baby,"

You raise a skeptical brow, because of course you want to. Steve hands over your own strawberry scented shampoo, because he likes it more than his own. He'd much rather have your scent following him around like a cloud as he goes through the monotonous tasks that come with each day.

It's selfish, in a way, because you love to watch the way his eyes drift shut as you thread your fingers gently through his scalp. You like to make a show of it-- it doesn't really take that long to wash somebody's hair. But he just spent the past three hours taking care of you in a way no one else could, so, you felt like this was the least you could do.

And when the time comes, you tip his head back and rinse the shampoo meticulously from his tresses-- taking extra care to shield his eyes from any rogue droplets of water.

Steve never lets you dote on him for long, though. Eventually he's got you back where he wants you: between his legs, in the comforting safety of his arms. You're turned around now, pelvis to pelvis. He guides you head to lie in the crook of his neck, as he orchestrates long, languid strokes from the crown of your head all the way to the base of your spine.

And you stay there until the water grows cold.

divider credit to @/plum98

[willowlovesthingsss]

okay i have another thot thought for you bc i just. tmi storytime but ive been sick for a week and literally had to take a week off of work so i’ve just been watching tv and reading fanfic and GIRL (this is the tmi part) but ive been lowkey horny and reading really good smut obviously hasn’t been helping.

anyway! through that terrible horny experience with no end i was like wait fic idea and ngl your fics have been the ones that are FUCKING ME UP so who better to ask than you 😁

so the fic idea: sleepover with bestie!steve that she’s lowkey pining over and she goes to the bathroom to try and like relieve herself and be less worked up over him. it doesnt work and she just gets super frustrated and comes back out and steve obvi notices smth is wrong. well push comes to shove she tells him that she’s just really horny and it’s just not working (maybe they play truth or dare and he’s like “okay truth, why are you so pissy rn) and he’s like “i can help? we’re friends that’s not weird right?” and things just…go and eventually they’re fucking after like a whole ton of messing around. end of the story they’re like cheesy yeah i like you you’re the reason im horny DUH. yay happy ending!!!

okay that’s all :)

Thank you so much for this omg I feel so honored first of all hehehe. I'm sorry you've been sick though, and I hope you're feeling better! But this is fantastic, I looooooove this idea so much <3

CW: unprotected sex, slight dirty talk

"See," he groaned as he lifted his shirt up to his shoulder blades, exposing his mole covered skin to you, "I'm not crazy. There's a bug bite, isn't there?" He whined once again, still convinced that the picnic this afternoon had left him in bug bites.

"Where?" You asked with a sigh, scooting forward and holding onto his shirt against his skin. Your eyes drifted across the new freckles across his shoulder blades, then down towards his constellations of moles. He was covered in them in the best way, making you want to take your time to count every single one of them.

"Like up here," he said as he reached blindly, "I swear to God it itches so bad." You swatted at his hand as you huffed, trying to get him out of your way so you could look clearer.

"I don't see anything," you told him honestly, "I mean your skin is red from messing with it, but looks like just moles to me." You teased as you touched one, making him jerk forward.

"Great," he grumbled before he reached back, gripping his shirt and tugging it over his shoulders, "are you sure?" The paranoid tone he carried made you shake your head. He was too stubborn.

"Pretty positive," you nodded your head, "was there something underneath your shirt?" You tried instead, wondering if a strand of hair or a leaf had gotten caught there.

"No." He mumbled a second later as he shuffled his shirt between his fingertips, inspecting it closely.

"Do you want me to scratch your back?" you offered, grinning at the way he snorted, "I promise I won't knock any beauty spots off." You teased as you leaned forward, your chin brushing against his shoulder so you could look at him again. He cocked his eyebrows, an amused smile pulling onto his pink lips. You could feel the muscles in your stomach tightening, hating how easily he affected you.

"I appreciate it," he chuckled, tilting his head as you began to scratch as his skin, "there's really no bug bites?" He questioned again, hazel eyes glowing in warmth.

"Sorry, you're clear." You told him with a little shrug of your shoulders, sitting back as he faced you once again. You breathed in deeply twice, trying to keep yourself from admiring the thick hair that grew on his chest. You scooted back an inch for good measure, finding it harder and harder to be around him anymore.

The truth was you'd been on edge all day since you'd seen him. Swimming was a fun idea, but it always turned painful once he ripped his shirt off and stepped out into those tiny trunks that he liked to wear. That hugged his hips a little too snug for your taste. It was hard not to stare.

"Did you hear me?" He asked as he turned towards you again, eyebrows furrowing together as he caught you off guard. You blinked, trying not to count the colors that danced in his eyes.

"What?" You sputtered out a second later, bearing an apologetic smile as he sighed dramatically. He nudged you a second later, making you crinkle your nose.

"Do you want to order something? Pizza?" He suggested, sighing deeply like he was bored. You thought about it for a second, deciding that you didn't have much of an appetite. At least not for food.

"Sure," you nodded your head, "I think I'm going to shower while you do it." You stated as you crawled off of the bed, feeling a desperate need to seperate the two of you before you did something stupid.

"Now?" He questioned as he looked at you confused, furrowing his eyebrows together. You hated how handsome he still looked. And you desperately wished he'd put a shirt back on.

"Is that a problem?" You asked a second later, your question coming out more snippy than you meant for it to be.

"No, it was a question," he laughed as he held his hands up innocently, "what's got your panties in a twist?" He asked, making you shake your head.

"Ha, ha," you replied as you flicked his shoulder, making him wince, "you're hilarious. I'll be back." You told him quickly, realizing you liked the whine that left his mouth a lot more than you should.

You hated how worked up he got you, how he didn't mean to do it at all. You didn't get it, didn't understand where this sudden feeling had come from. And you didn't get how he didn't feel the same way.

Sometimes you really wished you could hate him.

A cool shower did nothing to soothe your thoughts of tracing his back with more than just your fingertips. You wanted to drag your lips in the same place your fingers had touched, wanted to count every mole and trace his fading freckles.

Your mind wandered to the same fantasy that you had been stuck on since you had gone skinny dipping a few weeks ago. It had been dark enough that you hadn't really seen anything, but the moonlight had kissed his skin just enough to give you a brief glimpse of the hair that decorated all of him.

Your fingers brushed against your clit, teasing yourself for just a moment before you slid them inside of yourself. The image of Steve doing that filled your mind, his long and nimble fingers massaging your walls as he coaxed you through your orgasm.

Only you never got that far, at least with yourself. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't give yourself any relief. And tonight was no different. Which left you even more frustrated.

You grumbled the whole time you dried yourself off and did a brief routine with your hair, borrowing different things of his to replace the things that you had left at home.

"You okay?" He asked as you returned, finding him down in the living room this time. You shrugged your shoulders, trying to appear as peppy as you could.

"Fine." You stated as you sat down on the opposite side of the couch, feeling like you couldn't handle being so close to him at the moment. Even though you desperately wanted to.

"Pizza should be here soon," he replied as he scooted a little closer, "did you sleep in the shower?" He hummed as he brushed his fingers against the nape of his neck, making goosebumps spread across your skin.

"No, I'm fine," you sighed deeply, "just hungry." You said as you shrugged your shoulders, finding that it was a better than telling him you were horny.

"I can set the movie up," he offered, "what are we watching again?" He asked as he leaned forward, pushing away things until he found the movie.

"Mhm, something Robin suggested." You couldn't remember as you watched the way his skin rode up his back, sure that your eye was twitching as you forced your hands underneath your thighs.

"And she's got great taste." He replied sarcastically, shaking his head as he worked on setting it up. You nodded, forcing yourself to look away so you wouldn't get caught drooling.

Pizza arrived not long later, though you had a hard time eating that too. You kept focusing on the way he spoke throughout the movie, asking questions that you didn't have the answer to. But you didn't mind. You enjoyed that about him, actually.

"Wanna play truth or dare?" You asked suddenly, holding your legs to your chest as you tried not to focus on the way he had strung his arm over your shoulders.

"Are we in middle school?" He asked as he peered at you curiously, acting like this wasn't something you guys did when you were looking for something to do. And you needed a distraction.

"I'm bored," you told him honestly, whining softly, "and it's not like you're into this movie either." You pointed out, watching the way he slowly shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, well I guess you have a point," he nodded his head in agreement, "alright, truth or dare?" He turned towards you this time, moving his hand away as you felt relief growing inside of you.

"Dare." You said quickly, watching the way he pursed his lips together. He always gave you something random to do, something to make you not think of the way his legs were touching yours.

"I dare you to lick your elbow." He stated as he rubbed his thumb across his chin, smiling in amusement.

"Funny." You told him as you shook your head, knowing there was no way to do that. He nudged his knee against yours once again.

"That's my dare." He told you seriously, hazel eyes twinkling in amusement. You loved all of his pretty colors and wished you could get a better look at them.

"I can't lick my elbow!" You protested as you shook your head, laughing at his suggestion. He grinned.

"You have to at least attempt it." He told you seriously, making you sigh deeply as you rolled your sleeves up on your arm. You stuck your tongue out, doing your best to attempt it but ultimately failing.

"Are you happy?" You asked him, feeling a little giddy at the way he laughed and clapped his hands. At least you were entertaining him.

"Please," he said with a grin, "alright, your turn." He rested his hand on his cheek this time, eyes remianing locked on your features.

"Truth or dare, Steven?" You questioned as you held your fingers together, trying to resist the urge to gaze into his eyes. He groaned at his full name, shaking his head before he answered.

"Dare." He replied confidently, saying the same thing he always did. He rarely picked truth, often leaving you to wonder why.

"I dare you to -," you paused as you looked around, trying to come up with something that you hadn't come up with before, "tie this cherry stem with your tongue." You shrugged at the way he laughed.

"Oh that's so easy." He said as he plucked it from your fingertips, wagging his eyebrows as he brought it up to his lips.

"Cocky, huh?" You watched the way he acknowledged your words before he plopped it into his mouth.

"Sometimes," he grinned boyishly, "but look at this." He stated a second later, wagging his eyebrows as he proudly stuck the tied stem out on his tongue.

"Looks a little lopsided." You responded playfully as he picked it up of fof his tongue, placing it on the plate before he wipe his hands across his pants.

"Don't be jealous," he teased right back, "truth or dare?" He asked, making you think for a moment.

"Oh," you sighed deeply, "truth I suppose." You said, not too keen on licking your arm again.

"What's got you all worked up?" he asked, "and you have to be honest. You can't lie about it." He said seriously, like he would know if you were lying or not. The annoying part was that he probably would.

"I'm tense," you said slowly, "I don't know, it's dumb." You shrugged dramatically, feeling a little embarrassed at your own problem.

"Tense about what?" He looked curious, maybe a little concerned as he tilted his head. You sighed, wishing that he would realize that he was the issue.

"I can't get off," you spit out finally, feeling like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. Even if it was embarrassing, "like I'm horny, but I can't get there." You said slowly, wincing as the words came out.

"Oh." He looked at you surprised, eyes widening a little bit like he couldn't believe what you had just said. Sex wasn't brought up a lot between the two of you, surprsingly enough. You didn't want to know about his sex life and apparently he didn't want to know about yours either.

"Yeah," you mumbled, "you probably didn't want to know all about that." You said slowly, feeling a little bad for unloading that on him. You certainly could've lied.

"No, it's fine. I asked," he mumbled as he sat up a little bit, "maybe I can help." He suggested a second later, making you furrow your eyebrows together.

"Help?" you looked at him surprised, "what do you mean?" You questioned him, hands feeling numb against your waist.

"Yeah, I mean-," he paused, "you scratched my back, and now I can scratch yours." He gestured towards you, making your eyes widen several sizes. Your mouth suddenly felt dry as you tried to think, wondering how you had gotten here.

"I don't know." You said slowly, worried that your own feelings would ruin your friendship. You didn't want to lose him, especially over something so silly.

"I don't have to you know," he gestured down towards himself, then towards you, "I can just help you out." He stated as he brushed his palm across your knee, sending sparks through your body.

"You're a little pervert." You spit out nervously, giggling softly as you thought about it for another second. He grumbled as he pulled his hand away.

"Fine, forget I offered." He replied as he pulled his hand away, making you panic for a brief second. That's not what you wanted at all. Maybe it was a bad idea, but what was really the worst that could happen?

"What would you do?" You asked a second later, forcing your eyes to the side of the room so he couldn't see the embarrassment that lingered on your features. You didn't want him to know that you had thought about this, that you deeply wanted him.

"Whatever you want me to do." He offered as his fingertips fell against the side of your hips, spreading warmth through the inside of your body. You inhaled deeply, turning to meet his gaze.

His hazel eyes were soft and filled with adoration, his eyebrows relaxed gently on his pretty face. You briefly glanced over the moles on his skin, heart hammering as you gave your head a slow nod.

"This doesn't have to be weird." You told him quickly, hoping that he agreed with that.

"Not weird at all," he agreed as he nodded his head, "now can I help you?" He questioned with a little laugh, your pulse quickening against the side of your neck before you responded.

"Mhm," you hummed, trying to keep as casual as possible while he looped his fingertips through the band of your pajama pants, "I'd like that a lot." You mumbled a second later, finding some brief confidence as he began to tug your pants off of your legs.

He worked slowly, like he was carefully unwrapping his favorite gift. A boyish smile formed on his lips as he looked at the panties you wore, a soft snicker leaving his lips before he kissed the corner of your knee. The remark died on your lips as a spark traveled through your body, leaving behind an electric sensation.

His lips were soft and smooth against your skin, the kisses brief but sweet. Your heart hammered roughly inside your chest as he continued to kiss further and further up your thighs, leaving your clit to throb in anticipation.

"You smell nice," he mumbled as he stalled his kisses across your inner thigh, pressing his large fingertips into your skin to spread your knees apart, "but you're just as pretty too."

"You're cheesy, Steve Harrington." You told him, biting down on the grin that had appeared on your lips. He squeezed at your flesh, looking content.

"Yeah, but you love it." He remarked a little too cocky for your taste, even though he was right. You didn't get a chance to respond as he brushed his thumb across the wet spot on your panties, making all the air leave your lungs.

A little whine left your lips this time, heart hammering as he slowly dragged his thumb across your clothed clit. You sighed at the sensation, already feeling needy as you rocked your hips forward.

He hummed something underneath his breath, something you didn't catch as he slowly stripped you of your panties next. His eyes lit up in interest, filling with lust as he pressed his fingertips against your folds.

"Real pretty," he hummed, making your insides churn at the way he observed you. You were certain that he had never looked at you in such a way before, though now you knew that you needed more, "bet you taste even better." He added, nearly making you snort.

The feeling of his tongue dragging through your folds distracted you from everything else, made your body tremble as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows. You gaped as you watched him, noting the way his expression turned blissful like yours.

He moved his tongue skillfully along your folds, lapping at your pretty cunt as he continued to keep you spread open for him. You whined as the electricity pulsed at your clit, leaving you needy as your heart raced in your chest.

He groaned a second later, sinking down further in between your legs as he got himself comfortable. You sighed breathlessly as you tangled your hands through his hair, tugging softly as you rocked yourself up against his greedy mouth.

You'd never been with a man before that had acted so eager, so desperate to eat you out. Steve seemed to know just where to touch, where to lick and suck to make it harder and harder for you to breathe. Your thighs trembled from the feeling, your fingers gripping his hair tightly as you rocked yourself up against his mouth.

His pretty lips wrapped around your swollen clit, his tongue pressing slow but deep patterns against your sensitive bud. Your whines grew louder as you contued to rut against his sinful mouth, chasing the pleasure that was spreading through your body.

"Fuck," he groaned as he slowly pulled away, taking one last drag of your cunt as he peered up at you. A carnal feeling spread inside of you as you peered at his slick covered lips, his lustful eyes and messy hair. Suddenly you wanted more, needed him badly, "your pussy tastes so good, honey." He spit out, looking just as lecherous as you felt.

You pushed yourself up further then, knocking him back a bit as you messily began to tug his clothes off of him. You had a strong desire to kiss him, but couldn't quite bring yourself to do that yet. That would make it feel too real, would cross the boundaries that you weren't sure you were ready to get rid of.

His large hands pried away your shirt and bra, making you momentarily forget the way your hands were shaking as you drifted your fingers down his hairy chest. You thought every bit of him was perfect. The moles that were everywhere, the soft freckles on his shoulders and his odd tan lines. You loved all of it.

You found yourself lying on your back again as he pressed his way up against your thighs, his heavy cock falling against your soaked cunt. You looked down at him fascninated, wondering how good it would feel to have something that large inside of you.

"Wow," you breathed out, eyes widening as you took in the curve of his cock. He was longer than you were expected, his girth thick and his tip a soft pink. Your eyes traveled down the way he slightly curved to the right, straight down to the thick hair that decorated his skin, "can I?"

"Yeah," he nodded his head, his tone straining as you wrapped your fingers around his girth. You breathed in at the sensation, licking your bottom lip as you swiped your thumb across the precum that was leaking from the head of his cock, "fuck. That's nice." He complimented quickly, eyes growing hazy as he rocked his hips forward.

You slowly dragged your hand along the curve of his cock, enjoying the way he met your motions. His grunts were blissful, sweet enough to make your knees feel even weaker. You chewed on your bottom lip, your clit beginning to burn in anticipation once again as you spread your legs once again.

"Wanna feel you," you told him quickly, chewing on your bottom lip as you dragged his tip between your slick folds. You gaped at the sensation, feeling yourself reeling at the loud whine that left his lips, "wanna make you feel good." You nodded your head in encouragement, heart fluttering at the way he locked eyes with you again.

You admired the way his lips parted as you slid his thick tip inside your wet cunt, your breath stalling as you felt yourself stretching around his girth. You felt like you were floating for a moment, body pulsing in pleasure as he gripped the back of your thighs and began to sink into you.

Little gasps rolled off of his tongue as he brushed his hands across your skin, grunting softly as he buried his cock inside of you. Every inch made you croon, made your thighs tremble and shake.

"Jesus," he spit out raspily, eyebrows furrowing together in bliss as he bottomed out inside of you. His cock was pressed snuggly against your clamped walls, throbbing as you felt yourself leaking around him, "you feel so good, honey. Is this okay?" He hummed as he dropped his forehead near yours, his breath fanning over your face.

You leaned up to him as you nodded your head, a whiny moan breaking free as you slowly released your tight grip on his arms. You savored the feeling of him being so close, of the electric energy that was pulsing between the two of you.

Your eyes drifted across the lust that was swimming in his hazel eyes, the slight pink tint to his cheeks as he brought one of his hands up to your cheeks. Your mind felt foggy as he began to brush his thumb across your cheekbone, heart hammering at the dangerous look he sent you.

You felt like enough lines had been crossed and blurred as you moved your fingers through the hair that curled against the nape of his neck. You tuggged softly, bringing him down closer until your bottom lip grazed against his.

His lips were soft and smooth, sweet like bubblegum. Your body loosened up even more underneath him as you tugged him closer, savoring the gentle way he kissed you. No one had ever kissed you in such a way before, slow like he was savoring the shape of your mouth against his.

You tugged on his hair softly, a little whine vibrating across his lips as he rocked his hips forward. You moved your legs around his waist, crossing your ankles together to keep from shaking.

"Better than okay," you squeaked out, warmth spreading inside of you as his nose brushed against yours, "more. Need you to move, Steve." You demanded of him this time, sure that you might explode if he didn't start moving.

A lazy smile formed on his lips as he pressed a brief peck to your lips, his fingers tracing the curve of your mouth a second later. You felt the whine forming on the tip of your tongue before it died off, replaced by blissful moans as he slowly began to rut his hips forward.

Electricty shot up your body as you dug your fingertips deeper into his flesh, tugging him forward as you slowly rocked your hips up to meet his slow motions. He grunted as his fingers danced along your sides, massaging your skin as he sank in and out of your soaked cunt.

You moaned at the sensation of his cock dragging against your walls, spreading you apart each time he thrusted forward. You slid your hands down the curve of his back, savoring the feeling of his sweaty skin underneath your touch.

"You're so wet," he hissed a second later, tossing his head back as his eyes fluttered shut for a brief second. You moaned as you began to grind yourself up against him, chasing the way your cunt slid over the curve of his cock, "such a needy little thing." He teased, slowly opening his dark eyes as he peered down at you.

You couldn't think of any quick remarks as he continued to drag his cock in and our of your slick pussy. You were moving your hips forward just as desperately, the sound of your bodies meeting filling your ears like a filthy melody.

"More, please, please," you begged wantonly, feeling unstrained. Being this close wasn't enough, you needed more. Wanted more. The taste, smell and feel of him wasn't enough to satsify you, "please, Stevie. Give me more." You pleaded with him, flashing your eyelashes to earn a loud groan from him.

He snapped his hips forward harder, thrusting quicker and deeper as he gripped a hold of you tightly. You wrapped your arms around his back, his chest sliding against yours as you locked your ankles tightly around his waist.

"Fuck, fuck," he cursed as he dropped his head against yours once again, his voice straining as his fingertips dug into your skin this time. You whined at the sensation, body burning in pleasure as your cunt squeleched around his cock, "you feel so good, honey. So fucking good, baby." He praised, veins in his neck straining as he snapped his hips forward harder.

You whined uncontrollably as you felt the muscles in your stomach contracting, goosebumps spreading on your skin as your toes curled in awe. His cock was pressing against your deepest spots, making electricity spread through your spine.

"Steve, fuck," you cried out, fingertips aching from how harshly you were gripping him. His moans were just as desperate, mingling with yours as his thrusts became deeper and slower. Your body shook from the pleasure, mind growing hazy as your clit throbbed as your orgasm began to wash over you, "oh my God, yes! Oh God, Steve!" You squeaked as your high fell on top of you, crushing you like a harsh wave.

You momentarily couldn't breathe, your lungs swelling as your cunt clamped down around his thick girth. You shook underneath him, cumming intensely as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

"Oh fuck," he whined this time, making your insides feel like putty as you continued to tremble underneath him. Your clit was throbbing as the way he rutted into you, sloppy and deep, "you're so wet baby, so fucking soaked. That felt good, huh?" He rambled off, a hazy look in his eyes as he whined louder.

You leaned up to kiss at his neck, licking away the sweat that collected at his skin. You dragged your nails down his skin as he continued to whine, his cock throbbing inside of your soaked pussy.

He rutted into you twice, then one more time before he bottomed out against you. You could feel his balls against your skin, wet with your slick as he twitched inside of you. He groaned lowly, lips parting as he came inside of you. You moaned at the sudden feeling of his cum painting your walls, warm inside of you.

"M'sorry, m'sorry," he spit out, shaking as he fell flat against you. You savored the feeling of his body on top of yours, his weight feeling nice against you, "fuck. I should've grabbed a condom." He closed his eyes as he shook his head, cheek pressed against yours.

"It's alright," you told him breathlessly, nodding your head, "it felt good." You told him honestly, lazily bringing your hands up to brush his messy hair off of his forehead.

He moaned a second later, eyes flashing with want as he gazed down at you again. You cocked your eyebrows, feeling very comfortable despite everything that had just happened.

"You liked that, huh? Little pervert." You teased as you dragged your thumb across his sweaty forehead, enjoying the way his cheeks flushed from your words.

"Shut up." He mumbled as he groaned in embarassment, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. You smiled as you brushed your fingers through his hair, heart hammering softly as you savored the feeling of him against you. This had definitely been a good idea.

"You know," you paused for a moment, brushing your fingers across his skin gently, "you might be the reason I was so worked up." You admitted slowly, ignoring the way his head snapped up in your direction.

"Yeah?" He asked, looking amused as he rubbed his thumb across your cheek. You grumbled.

"Don't get too excited," you teased, biting at his thumb playfully, "maybe it was a one time thing." You added, earning a little laugh from him.

"I think about you a lot too," he hummed, pecking your lips softly, "glad we got that covered." He grinned as he pulled away, making your heart thump.

[willowlovesthingsss]

Teen Pregnancy Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Steve Harrington

Part 1

Coming Soon

Billy Hargrove

Eddie Munson

Jonathan Byers

Argyle

Gareth Emerson

Jason Carver

Jim Hopper

Tommy Hagan / Robin Buckley

Note:

I’m going to try to cover lots of different dynamics and situations in this series. I may even write different variations for some characters. If there’s something specific you want to see, let me know! Full credit for this idea goes to @fizzing-imagines and my banner as usual is made by the incredible @punkrockmlchael ᡣ𐭩

[willowlovesthingsss]

hi jade! i’m obsessed with ur writing. i also love angst so much idk i was thinking maybe for zombie steve, the stress of post college life and everything gets too much for them and it all kinda blows up into a fight and the reader is thinking like his life would be so much easier if we weren’t dating and then it’s them kind of making up??? totally understandable if u don’t wanna make these poor babies suffer any more but just wanted to throw it out there! haha

thank you for your request lovely <3 steve zombie au —a trivial fight snowballs, and you get some much needed reassurances. fem!reader, 3.5k

"I think you're tired," Steve says. 

You pull your backpack higher up your shoulders by the straps. "I'm not tired, Steve." 

"You haven't slept well in weeks," he says. 

"It's not the point. You're not listening to what I'm saying, you're just looking for the problem." 

"Because," he says gingerly, "I know that you wouldn't be saying this if you'd been sleeping. That's all I'm saying." 

"You're not listening," you insist. 

"I am, I am listening," he says, and he doesn't sound mad, but the ice is thinning. "I get that you think we shouldn't be moving along. I understand what you're saying to me, but I really think you're– it's fatigue. You're sick of moving around, I am too, but you know the risk if we stay somewhere." 

"You're not listening to me, though, you're discounting my concern because I'm tired, but if I wasn't tired I'd be saying the same stuff. We can't keep moving around, your knee is still hurting even though you refuse to tell me, and you think I don't know but I do know–" 

"So the problem is that I'm not telling you my knee hurts?"

"The problem is that you have no sense of self preservation and also that you're really not listening–" 

"I'm listening!" Steve says, his voice peaking. 

Robin turns to look from where she's walking just ahead with Sarah and the others. She meets Steve's eyes first and then yours, and she smiles at you tentatively, as if to say, Everything okay?

You shake your head at her. Don't worry about it.

"I'm obviously fucking listening," he mutters, looking to the sun as he combs his hair out of his eyes. 

"You don't have to be a jerk about it." 

"You're jabbing at me."

"I'm jabbing at you?" 

"It's black and white with you today. I say black and you say white, and it's giving me a headache." 

You huff a breath out. Arguing with Steve is easy, you did it enough when you first met, but it's different now. It hurts your feelings when he digs in.

"That's not true, I don't need to be contrary to disagree with you," you say. 

"But you are! You're just disagreeing with me because you're in a bad mood! You know we need to leave, you know it's the right thing, and I just don't want to listen to it anymore." 

"Why? Why is it so hard for you to listen to me? You love me," you say. It sounds odd, nearly questioning, and you both flinch. 

"Of course I love you. But I'm tired. I don't want to fight." 

"It wasn't a fight until you made it one," you say. 

Fight or flight doubles and you rush forward and away from him before you can get anymore heated. He says your name but you ignore him, falling in to step with Robin and Sarah. 

She frowns at you apologetically. "Sorry, can I…" 

"Yeah," you say quickly. "Of course you can." 

Robin smiles and drops back to walk with Steve. They don't speak, and you don't look back, but you're glad she's with him even if you're mad at him; you've argued, but you certainly don't want him on his own at the back of the camp's procession. 

Sarah smiles at you. She has big green eyes and pretty red hair, straight as a sheet and shiny as silk despite the circumstances. It's greasy at the top, so at least she's not perfect. 

"Hey," she says sympathetically, "are you okay?" 

Her asking has a heat brewing behind your eyes, but you find it to be annoyance rather than upset. 

You have to force the words out, "I'm fine." 

She nods, rolling the cord of her tent around her hand. It drags on the floor. It's the mode of transport the majority of your campmates have chosen for their tents and bags, a hundred pack of bungee cords wrapped around tarps and sacks to take some of the strain off of everyone's shoulders. It looks strange, all those camping bags dragging over dirt and grass. 

"Love is very difficult," she says. "I don't envy the fighting. But you and Steve don't fight much. I envy that, how happy you are." 

You breathe out slowly. She's nice, and Robin likes her, and you'd rather not take your anger out on her. 

"It's not difficult," you say eventually. You roll your neck and whine as it clicks. "It's easy. Just hard lately 'cos things are different." 

"I guess it's exhausting having to care about someone else. I can hardly find the energy to care about myself." Sarah laughs gently. "Not that people aren't worth loving, but the energy to look after someone, it must be tiring. What I'm trying to say is, I can see why it would be harder lately 'cos we're not at Oaks anymore, you feel like you're always on high alert trying to stop something bad happening." 

You hear what she's saying, but you focus in on the wrong part. It's hard, so hard, having to look after someone. And that's all Steve does. 

You look over your shoulder. Steve and Robin are walking side by side, Robin's hand curled around his elbow, her cheek dipped momentarily to his arm. "It'll blow over," you think she says. 

Steve nudges her. She nudges back. 

"Maybe it would be easier if he didn't have to look after me," you say. 

You say it because you want reassurance. Sarah races to give it to you, your shoulders relaxing in tandem as she says, "No way! He wouldn't want that, and you don't either. Try not to worry, Y/N. You just need a breather." 

—

You are being so, so quiet. Steve knows you struggle talking to him when you're mad. You're not cruel enough for the silent treatment but there's nothing wrong with needing space. He hates how crabby he got with you, but he also genuinely still thinks that he was right. 

Who knows. Steve sighs and scratches his stubbly chin. He has a zit coming, he can feel it, and it's driving him crazy. 

You'd offer to squeeze it if you weren't fighting. He knows that's a stupid fucking thing to miss, and want, but he likes you taking care of him. He loves that you don't care about the gross stuff, you'll do whatever if it makes him more comfortable. So he sits by the struggling campfire wishing you'd squeeze his stupid zit and say more than, "Hungry?" as you pass him a can of pasta. 

You eat in silence. Steve suffers it until he can't anymore.

"Do you want the rest?" he asks, offering you his half-eaten can of low-carb linguini. "It's boring," he warns. 

"Swap?" you ask, offering your bowl. You have a mixture of sliced water chestnuts, artichoke hearts, and half of a frankenfurter. 

You'd obviously taken the worse option. You could've given him the hodge podge, but you gave him the pasta. He feels bad for complaining and trades dinner with you.

"Do you…" 

Steve waits for you to finish. When you don't, he swallows around a chalky water chestnut and asks, "What?" 

"Never mind. Forget it." 

Steve raises his eyebrows but looks back at his meal. He was hoping you'd say sorry, because he's still feeling too proud but he wants to make up. He thinks maybe he doesn't deserve to make up if he can't bring himself to apologise —you were right that he should listen, even if he's tired. He should have more patience, just patience has never been his strong suit, and he's fucking exhausted and he knows you are too. He's sick of worrying if he did the right thing, and he's still mad at you, but he's starting to wonder if it matters anyways. It was a stupid fight that got too big. If you hadn't walked away, you might've been able to smooth it over. If he wasn't too stubborn to take the five big steps to your side, he could've done the same.

"I'm still annoyed," he says finally, "but I'm sorry for being a dick. Can we… gloss it over for now?" 

You usually give in pretty easily. You aren't eager to hold a grudge, a sucker for one of his tight hugs, but you seem pretty reluctant as you nod. He's not as forgiven as he'd like to be. It's fair. His apology wasn't the best. 

"Sorry," you mutter. 

"Am I a dick if I ask to talk about it when we've both had some sleep?" 

You shake your head, shooting him a nice, albeit small, smile. "I think that's a good idea." 

Robin appears as you're pitching your tent. 

"Okay, don't make this a big deal, but I'm sharing with Sarah tonight." 

You smile. Steve frowns. 

"Uh?" he asks. 

"We were talking about how you guys had your, uh, disagreement, and I mentioned that you're cranky because you never get to hook up because I'm always there, and she invited me. So that's what I'm doing. Maybe you guys will feel better after some time alone." 

"You think we're cranky because we aren't hooking up?" Steve asks, genuinely baffled. 

"Not really, but Sarah laughed. I," —Robin tucks her hair behind her ear, looking bashful in her huge hoodie— "really do think you could benefit from, like, privacy. Just have some time together. Don't argue again." 

"Thanks, Rob," you say. 

Robin presses her lips together in a funny smile and shoots you a double finger guns. "I'm a philanthropist." 

"Maybe you'll be less cranky when we see you in the morning," Steve says. 

"Please, Steven." 

Robin says goodnight. You and Steve pitch the tent slowly. He thinks you might be scared of being alone with him while things are still awkward, reluctant to meet his eyes, and you haven't smiled since the little one you offered at the fire. 

He sits at the entrance of the tent beside you and sighs. "I'm sorry." 

"You already said sorry." 

"I know. But I figured it couldn't hurt." 

You pull tufts of grass up in your hands, slouched forward into your own lap. He puts his hand on your back and rubs at your poor posture. Sometimes he worries that months ago, when you fell through damp flooring in a dilapidated building hundreds of miles away from here, you'd permanently fucked your discs. Your recovery was rough, and he barely noticed how much grief your back was giving you because he'd been so scared of the lump on the back of your head. He wonders if it still hurts. 

He gives it an extra soft rub to be safe. 

"Do you think things would be really different if we never met?" you ask. 

"Things would be awful–" He starts immediately. You cut him off. 

"Would they?" you ask, propping your face in your hand, elbow digging into your knee.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he asks. He's trying to be one hundred percent joking, but it's a solid 80/20, the 20 a startling hurt. "Would things be awful if we never met? Let me think about that one. Yes. Things would be awful." 

You smile weirdly.

He takes his hand back. "What, you think things would be better if we never met?" 

"For you." 

Steve gets this feeling like he's had hot water chucked over him, and his eyes start to hurt. They ache. He could cry for you, he really could. How can you even think that, for a moment, for long enough to ask him, and begin asking him an hour ago? You sat there for an hour thinking about it and this is still the conclusion you came to: you think things would be better for him without you. 

Steve takes your face into his hands. He needs you to be looking at him, straight at him and into his eyes as he tells you. 

"I would not be here without you." 

"But if you were–" 

"But I wouldn't be. And not because you saved me from geeks at the start," he says, frowning, furious, "or any time after that. I could be the best survivalist in the world and I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you." 

"Robin–" 

"Is my best friend. I'd die for her." His hands slide further back on your face. "But I wouldn't be here without you." 

"I make things so hard for you," you say. Steve watches helplessly as your eyes fill with tears.

"You don't, and if you do, I make things hard for you too." 

"I'm sorry for being miserable," you say, staring at his chin. 

He ducks his head to force you to meet his eyes. "It's okay, it's okay," —he wipes under your eyes with his thumb to catch a tear that hasn't fallen yet— "it's okay. It doesn't matter. You don't have to be happy, you don't have to be nice to me every second of every day, you just have to know what you mean to me and get a handle on it."

"No, 'cos I know I make it hard, I know I've been hardwork right from the start and I don't get easier. I'm always getting hurt–" 

"It breaks my fucking heart, but if you think that matters to me–" 

"–I'm not strong, I complain and I– I make bad choices, I cry all the time–" 

"Why do you think that?" 

"I'm messed up," you say, pulling his hands from your face. 

"There's nothing wrong with you." Steve squeezes your hands, shuffling closer to you on knees, desperate to set you straight. "Come on, Y/N. You need to be strong to get through this. You think you'd have gotten this far if you weren't strong?" 

"I got here because of you–" 

"I'm here because of you," he says firmly. Loud, angry, abrasive in the face of your heartsick tears. "Why can't you see that? Did I do something, to make you think you can't do this?" 

"You didn't do anything, Stevie," you sniffle, wiping your cheek with the back or your wrist, "and it's not the point." 

"What's the point?" he asks, much softer than before. 

You shrug. You wipe your cheeks again, stemming the rapid flow of tears spilling at the corners of your eyes. Your lashes are darkened triangles against your skin. "I don't know. I just wish you had someone looking after you who could actually look after you, rather than make you miserable all the time." 

"I'm not miserable." Steve takes in a big breath, hand tangling in the worn fabric of your shirt as he leans in too close. "Would you tell me why you're crying?" he asks quietly, tilting his head to one side. "Please. Just tell me what's wrong." 

"I don't want to fight anymore," you say, and you sob. 

"We're not fighting, baby," he says, hand slipping under your t-shirt. His palm roves the soft pouch of your stomach to your side, where he grasps at you, pulling you in toward him for a hug. His chin bumps into your shoulder, your wet cheek to his stubbly one. "This isn't a fight, this is me trying to make you feel better, honey. I don't want you to feel like this." 

"I'm worried you'd be better off without me," you mumble, lowering your head and pressing your eyes to his shoulder, the wet of your tears leaching into his shirt. "I'm doing it right now, I'm being fucking useless." 

"Why are you so afraid of being upset?" he asks, frowning.

"Because you never are," you say. You move into his touch, like you're trying to climb into his lap. Steve yanks you forward. 

"That's not true, you've seen me at my worst. You've seen me angry, and mean. Crying my eyes out." 

"You cry when things are bad. I cry all the time," you say, sounding very, very small. 

"Honey, I cry more than you think. I cried two nights ago. I cried when you were sick." He doesn't enjoy admitting it, because he wants to be strong for you, but he thinks his confession is a different kind of strength, and one you're in dire need of. "I'm sorry I don't always let you know. It's not fair. I expect you to tell me everything and I keep shit from you."

"Why did you cry two nights ago?" you ask, peeling away enough to look up into his face. 

He has to tell you, even if he doesn't want to. He should've told you when it happened. "I felt sick." 

"Yeah? Like nauseous? Do you feel sick now?" 

"Not really. I don't like seeing you cry, but I'm alright." Steve's hand slides down your side to the hem of your jeans, his thumb pushing into the waistband. "See?" he asks imploringly. "I felt like shit so I cried, and it doesn't mean you'd be better off without me. It just means I felt sick. You don't have to give meaning to everything, you really don't. I hate to say this, but you have to keep your head up. For me." 

You nod, sniffling and wiping your snotty nose with your sleeves. He bats your hand away and does it bare handed. There are much worse things in the world than this. In fact, he's happy to do it. 

"I'm sorry, for fighting with you and for crying all over you." You laugh, and Steve's heart soars.

"I love you, you idiot," he says. "I love you. Hold still a second." 

Steve climbs up on knees to press kisses from temple to temple, from temple to chin, and from chin to your lips. Your skin is hot and damp under his lips but he traverses unperturbed, trying to plaster each inch of your frankly gorgeous face in love. 

"I want you with me forever," he says, hoping you understand exactly the severity of what he means.

"I want you," you say. "As long as you'll have me. Forever and ever." You give a few quick nods, and the sadness drains from your expression, replaced with a relieved and ecstatic affection instead. "I really think I might be tired." 

"You think?" he asks. You laugh together, and he grabs your hand, giving it a sharp squeeze as he tacks on, "But I really need to listen to you, even if I'm irritable."

"We take stuff out on each other sometimes," you say. 

He squeezes your pinky finger. "We do. It's gonna happen. And I'm glad it's me and you, you know? I don't wanna fight, but I want it to be with you." 

"I want it to be with you, too," you say.

He can finally relax for the night. You make your way into your tent and lie on your backs, ankles hooked, a shitty paperback resting on your chest. The camp quietens as people head to their own tents for the night, though a gaggle of people stay awake at the fire, telling stories and laughing. Despite everything, there are moments when all of this feels fun. When Steve can pretend he's two years ago on a loser-group camping trip. And maybe he didn't know you then, but he would've seen you across the way and asked you out. Or he would've bumped into you at the communal showers and told you how to work the ice machine. Maybe you would've met at the lake. Maybe you would've hated one another. However you met in this distant what-if, Steve knows it would've somehow ended like this; your hand lifted to his hair and stroking wayward patterns, your breath sharp with spearmint. You'd brushed your teeth together over an empty can. Steve misses sharing a bathroom mirror with you hip to hip, but he'll take the small stuff whatever way it's packaged. 

"For the record? That was your stupidest question to date." Steve turns his head to you, tarp wrinkling under his ear. "Like, you're the queen of stupid questions, and that one still managed to surprise me. And you once asked me if I thought petroleum jelly had nutritional value." 

You flick his eyebrow gently. "I know it was stupid," you say, voice rough from a good cry. "I just couldn't stop thinking about it." 

He tugs you in for a forehead kiss, lavishing in the feeling of your skin under his lips. "You believe me, right?" 

He pulls away. 

"I believe you. I love you. I'm gonna keep my head up, Stevie, s'long as you start telling me when you need me." 

He thinks that's a deal he can make. "Deal. Easy." 

You grin at him. "Can I squeeze your pimple now?" 

"Yes!" He whips into a sitting position. "I've wanted to ask you all day." 

"It looks like an ingrown hair." 

"I'll have to stop shaving. Maybe I'll grow a beard." 

You don't bother sitting up, only beckon him toward you with a raised hand. "That won't be necessary, H. Just let me work my magic…" Your fingernail digs into his chin. "Ew, it's kinda gross."

"Please don't ridicule me."

[willowlovesthingsss]

this is the best thing i’ve ever read in my whole life

The Archer | Steve Harrington

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Angst, fluff.

A/N: Found this in my drafts loo enjoy

----

You’ve never been the kind of person people stay for.

Your parents taught you that early on, love is temporary, conditional, fleeting. Your father left when you were nine. Your mother stayed, but she never really wanted to. She was always looking for an out, always halfway gone. You liked it better that way at first being alone, not truly having anyone so when they left it didn’t hurt as much, it was just another no one coming in and out of your lives. You learned that people only stick around until they find something better.

So you made sure to never need anyone. You let people in just enough to keep them close, but not enough for them to see you. You laughed when you were supposed to, played the part of the girl who was fine, always fine, even when you weren’t.

Because if you let people see what’s underneath, if you let them know how broken you really are, they leave and that’s why Steve Harrington is the worst thing that ever happened to you.

Because he sees you, even when you try to hide, even when you deflect and brush him off, even when you keep him at arm’s length…he still sees you.

And y’know what's worse? He stays. You don’t know what to do with that, because Steve is not supposed to stay. No one ever does and that’s why you don’t let yourself believe this could be real.

Because if you do? If you let yourself reach for him, if you let yourself want him the way you already do….you might lose the only person who’s ever tried to love you anyway.

Steve doesn’t know when he started noticing you like that.

You were always there. First in the way all Hawkins kids inevitably are, crossing paths in school hallways and at parties. Then through Nancy, through Jonathan, through all the bullshit with the Upside Down. You weren’t just another face in the crowd. You were watching, always sharp-edged, always standing on the outside like you were waiting for something to go wrong. Because well everything always did. But Starcourt happened and after that, you stopped just watching.

But no matter how close you got, there was always a wall.

That stupid, beautiful, impenetrable wall.

Steve tried to climb it. He tried again and again, reaching, pushing, pressing against the cracks, but you never let him in and man, it was frustrating because he knew you were holding something back.

It was in the way your eyes flickered when conversations veered too close to the truth. The way your laugh got a little too loud when someone asked how you were doing. The way you kept people just close enough to feel real but never close enough to matter.

Steve didn’t know why he kept trying, maybe because he saw himself in you. Maybe because he knew what it was like to be left behind, maybe because he cared more for you then he ever intended, maybe it was because his feelings for you were overwhelming and that was the problem. Because the more he cared, the more you pulled away.

You were right there but you weren’t, something just out of reach. Something like fear in your eyes whenever the conversation got too real, whenever Steve tried to lean in past whatever self-protective armor you had wrapped so tightly around yourself.

It’s late when he finally calls you out on it. Robin and Dustin had already passed out on the couch, snoring softly under a tangle of blankets. The TV flickers in the background, playing some terrible late-night infomercial neither of you are paying attention to.

You’re in the kitchen, sitting on the counter, legs dangling, spinning a spoon absently between your fingers. Steve is standing across from you, arms crossed, leaning against the fridge like he’s working up to something.

He exhales sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

You glance up at him, startled by the sudden weight in his voice. You try to play it off with a small, teasing smirk. “I do talk to you.”

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. “Not about the things that matter.”

Something flickers across your face, too fast for him to catch, but not fast enough to completely hide.

“Not everything has to matter, Steve.”

He watches you for a second, really watches you, and it frustrates the hell out of him, the way you do this. The way you let him in just enough to keep him close, but never enough to let him have you.

“Yeah, it kinda does.”

Your fingers are still against the metal spoon. “Why?”

Steve lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “Because I feel like I’m talking to a version of you that only exists on the surface. Like there’s this whole other part of you, and I’m just—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I guess I just wanna know you for real.”

Your stomach twists. “You do know me.”

Steve’s jaw clenches. He takes a slow step forward, voice softer now, more careful. “Do I?”

You swallow, shifting uncomfortably. “Why are you pushing this?”

“Because I—” He exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face, suddenly looking so fucking tired. “Because I care, okay? Because I keep trying to get close to you, and every time I do, it’s like you—”

He stops himself, shaking his head.

You feel something in your chest tighten, something sharp and dangerous.

“Like I what?” you challenge, voice quieter now.

Steve meets your gaze, and for the first time in a long time, you can’t read him. “Like you’re afraid of letting me in.”

The air between you goes thick and still. Your fingers tighten around the spoon, the metal cold against your skin. You should say something, laugh it off, shrug..change the subject, run.

But you don’t, you don’t know how.

Steve watches you, waiting, hoping you’ll finally let him in.

You take a breath, force a smirk, flick the spoon between your fingers. Deflect, deflect, deflect. “And here I thought you just liked the chase, Harrington.”

His face falls. Disappointment flickers through his eyes, just for a second before he masks it with a sigh. “You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend this is some kind of game.”

Your stomach twists violently.

“Steve—”

“Forget it.” His voice is tired now, frustrated, resigned. He pushes off the fridge, shaking his head. “You’re not gonna let me in. You never do, it doesn't matter.”

You watch him walk away, and for one fleeting second, you almost call him back. But then the moment is gone and so is he.

---

It happened in small moments. All the almosts. Little cracks in the armor, fleeting glimpses of something real before you slammed the door shut again.

Like the time you were sitting in his car after a shift at Family Video, both of you were too lazy to go inside. You had the windows rolled down, music playing low, the humid summer air wrapping around you like a second skin.

“You ever feel like this town is just… waiting to swallow you whole?” Steve asked, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

You had gone still. Not laughing it off, not dodging. Just silent.

“Yeah,” you had murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Steve had turned to look at you. “Yeah?” he echoed, like he wasn’t expecting you to agree.

You hesitated and for just a second, he saw something in your eyes. Something unguarded, raw, real. But then you blinked, shook your head, and it was gone.

“Never mind,” you had said quickly, forcing a smirk. “I think that was just your deep poetic soul talking, Harrington.”

He sighed, tilting his head back against the seat. “You’re exhausting, you know that?”

“And yet, you still hang out with me.”

“Yeah.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I do.”

Or the time you had been walking back from the arcade with Max, Steve trailing behind.

It had been one of those perfect summer nights, warm but not suffocating, the cicadas humming in the distance. Max had been rambling about some stupid bet she had with Lucas, and you had been laughing, head tilted back, eyes bright in the glow of the streetlights.

And Steve, well he had been watching you something he found himself doing for a while now. Noticing the way you seemed lighter when you weren’t thinking too hard. The way you let yourself exist without overanalyzing it.

He had leaned in, bumped his shoulder against yours, and said, “You should let yourself be happy more often.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he saw it. The way you stiffened. The way your smile faltered, the way your fingers curled into fists at your sides. He didn’t mean it the way he realized after how it sounded, he meant it like you should smile more. It was the more beautiful thing he ever saw, and that you should laugh more because man, it was music to his ears.

“I am happy.”

Steve stopped walking. “No, you’re not.”

You turned to face him, eyes dark and guarded. “What the hell do you know about it?”

“I see you.” The air between you had stretched thin, tight as a wire. Max had awkwardly cleared her throat, clearly wanting to be anywhere else.

“You don’t see shit, Harrington,” you had muttered before walking ahead.

Steve let you go.

But then came the night you slipped and this time you couldn’t take it back, it was real, too real.

It had been a rough day. Too much Hawkins, too much silence, too much weight pressing down on your ribs. You had snapped at Robin, ignored Dustin’s calls, spent the whole day pretending you were fine until it nearly cracked you in half.

So you did what you always did, you went to Steve. Not because you meant to talk but because he made it easy to exist.

Steve never asked for more than you were willing to give or at least you thought he didn’t.

You had climbed into his passenger seat without a word, legs pulled up to your chest, arms wrapped around yourself.

Steve didn’t ask why you were there, he just drove.

Out of Hawkins, past the flickering streetlights, past the places that felt too full of memories. He parked at some random spot near the woods, turned off the car, and just waited.

You could feel him watching you, could feel him waiting for you to speak and for a while, you didn’t.

Then you did. “I don’t think I know how to be loved.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, the second they left your mouth, your breath caught in your throat, panic clawing up your ribs. Shit. Shit. You weren’t supposed to say that.

Steve, who had gone completely still.

Steve, whose face didn’t change, whose hands didn’t move, whose voice didn’t tremble when he said, “Why would you think that?”

You had shaken your head quickly, fingers curling into your sleeves. “I…forget it. I didn’t mean—”

“Hey.” His voice was gentle but firm.

Steve reached out, carefully….slowly. Giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn’t, his fingers found yours, warm and steady, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

“You don’t have to know how,” he murmured. “You just have to let someone try.” His fingers softly rubbed your hand. “And believe me someone will.”

That was the moment you realized he wasn’t going to leave, that Steve Harrington had been choosing you this whole time and maybe you could choose him back.

---

The sun is setting by the time Steve pulls the car into the gravel lot at the park. The air is thick with summer heat, the smell of grass and pavement still warm from the afternoon.

Robin is complaining loudly about having to be here, Dustin is talking way too fast, Max is rolling her eyes at something Lucas said, and you… you’re laughing. Like, really laughing, Steve’s known you long enough to know the difference.

There’s the laugh you use when someone expects it from you, quick, practiced, sharp at the edges like you don’t actually feel it.

There’s the one you use when you’re dodging something, louder than necessary, exaggerated, filling in the gaps so no one realizes you’re avoiding something real.

And then there’s this one, light, unrestrained..real.

You’re on the swings with El, kicking your feet, trying to get higher, grinning over at her like you’re daring her to catch up. Max is watching, smirking, shouting something about how she can go higher than both of you. Dustin and Lucas are arguing about whether this counts as a real competition.

Steve leans against the car, arms crossed, watching you.

Robin nudges his side. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not..” He stops, scowling when she raises an eyebrow. “Shut up.”

Robin snorts, looking at you again. You’re still laughing, still smiling, still unguarded in a way you never are. “You should tell her, you know.”

“Tell her what?”

Robin scoffs, shoving his shoulder. “That you’re in love with her, dumbass.”

Steve rolls his eyes, muttering something about how she’s so annoying, but he doesn’t actually deny it.

Because, yeah…maybe he is.

It happens fast. One second, you’re happy.

Genuine, effortless, real.

Then something shifts.

Steve doesn’t know what triggers it. Maybe it’s the way the sun catches on the trees just right, and the shadows look off. Maybe it’s the sound of the cicadas humming in the background. Maybe it’s nothing at all.

But he sees it, because you're all he sees. Your laughter falters. The way your eyes flicker with something heavy, distant, haunted.

The way your shoulders tense, like you’re suddenly remembering where you are, who you are, what you’ve been through.

It’s gone almost instantly. Your mask snaps back into place, and you’re smiling again, laughing again, playing along like nothing happened.

But Steve sees it, he sees all of it. That’s when it happens. That’s when he realizes he’s in love with you, truly in love with you. Because he doesn’t just love the version of you that you let everyone see.

He doesn’t just love the girl who makes fun of him, teases him, kicks his feet off counters.

He loves the whole thing.

The girl who smiles like she means it but sometimes doesn’t.

The girl who holds everything so tightly inside herself because she’s too scared to let anyone else carry the weight.

The girl who is so good at pretending she’s okay, she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it anymore.

“You good?” Steve’s voice is soft, meant just for you.

You blink at him, startled, like you weren’t expecting anyone to notice, like you weren’t expecting him to notice.

That kills him a little because he's done nothing but show you he sees you, he notices you.

But instead of answering, you plaster on that same damn smirk and say, “You worried about me, Steve?”

Steve, he doesn’t buy it. Not even a little. But he lets you have it. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just don’t go falling off that swing and breaking something, okay?”

You roll your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitches, just slightly.

Steve just knows. That someday, he’s going to get past those walls. Someday, you’re going to let him in and when you do? He’ll be right there. He’ll always be here.

----

It’s late. Too late for someone to be knocking on his door.

Steve is already awake, though. He hadn’t fallen asleep, not really. He had just been lying there, staring at the ceiling, stuck in that awful in-between place where his body was exhausted but his mind wouldn’t shut off.

He wasn’t expecting anyone. But the second he hears the knock, sharp, urgent, desperate his heart kicks up.

Because what if it’s one of the kids? What if it’s Dustin? Max? Lucas? What if something happened? What if it's back? What if it's something worse?

He yanks the door open without thinking and it’s you.

Standing there, arms wrapped around yourself, tears streaked down your face, chest rising and falling like you ran all the way here.

Steve feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest. “Jesus, what happened?” His voice is urgent, rough, and panicked.

You just shake your head, breathing uneven. “I—” Your voice catches, like you can’t get the words out, like if you say them, they’ll be real.

“Hey, hey, come here.” Steve doesn’t even hesitate.

He grabs you, yanks you inside, pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms tight around you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he doesn’t hold on hard enough.

You collapse into him, fists gripping the fabric of his t-shirt, burying your face into his shoulder.

“You’re okay,” Steve murmurs, his lips against your hair, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles against your back. “I’ve got you. Whatever it is, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

You shake your head against him, breath hitching. “I, I had this dream, and it felt so real—”

Steve stills. “What kind of dream?”

You swallow hard. Your whole body trembles. “You were gone, y-you died and it got you, I just it was so real..”

Steve feels something deep in his chest fracture. You grip him tighter, like you need to physically make sure he’s here, that he’s solid, that he’s real.

“You were just..” Your voice shakes. “I don’t know, I just, I woke up and I couldn’t breathe, and I had this awful feeling and I had to make sure—” You stop, your voice breaks. “I just had to see you.”

Steve doesn’t say anything.

He just pulls you even closer. “I’m here.” His voice is softer now, steadier, full of something heavy and unspoken. “I’m right here and I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

You nod against him, but you still don’t let go. So neither does he, he never wants to let go of you again.

Because if this is what you need to be held, to be grounded, to be reminded that he’s not going anywhere then Steve will hold you all night. He would hold you for the rest of his life if you’d let him.

---

It starts small, something stupid, insignificant, something that shouldn’t even matter.

You don’t even remember what sets it off. Maybe it’s the way Steve keeps pushing, keeps asking, keeps trying to dig past the walls you’ve spent years perfecting.

Maybe it’s the way you deflect, dodge, pretend you don’t care when you care so fucking much it’s suffocating.

Maybe it’s all of it. But suddenly, you’re both yelling.

Loud, sharp, raw.

Like neither of you can stop. Like this isn’t just about this moment it’s about everything you’ve both been avoiding.

“Why do you do this?” Steve demands, running a hand through his hair, pacing like he physically can’t stand still.

“Do what, Steve?” Your voice is sharp, your chest heaving.

“Act like none of this fucking matters!” He whirls on you, eyes burning, voice full of something angry and desperate. “Like I don’t fucking matter!”

Your stomach twists. “I never said that!”

“You don’t have to!” Steve throws his arms out, exhaling hard. “You just keep running, keep pushing me away every time I try to get close to you!”

“I’m not running!”

“Bullshit!”

Silence.

The word hangs in the air, thick and heavy and undeniable. Your fingers curl into fists, your chest aches.

“Why do you even care?” you snap, voice shaking now, uneven. “Why the fuck do you keep trying to fix me, Steve? Huh! I didn’t ask for this, I-I didnt ask to be fixed!”

Steve stares at you, breathing hard, shaking his head like he can’t fucking believe you just said that. “Because I fucking love you, that’s why!”

The words explode into the space between you, loud and sharp and so, so real.

Your breath haults.

You don’t move.

You don’t speak.

Because this is what you were afraid of. Because if he loves you, if he really fucking loves you, then that means he can leave and take everything you have left with him when he does.

Steve, he sees the way your face crumples for just a second before you shove it all down again. He sees all of it.

“Yeah,” he breathes, shaking his head, “that’s what I thought.”

He turns away and for the first time he’s the one walking away from you.

----

You don’t know what breaks first.

Maybe it’s the silence. The unbearable weight of it, the nights spent staring at the ceiling, wondering why the hell you keep doing this, to yourself, to him, to both of you.

Maybe it’s the fight. The way Steve walked away from you, the way his voice cracked when he told you he loved you, the way you let him go anyway or maybe it’s just everything.

All of it. The exhaustion, the longing, the fear. The realization that you’re ruining this. That you’ve spent so much time pushing Steve away that you never stopped to think about what would happen if he actually left and you can’t do it anymore. Because you don’t want him to leave, you want him to stay. You finally want someone to stay, not just anyone but Steve Harrington.

Fuck this.

You grab your jacket. Your hands are shaking as you shove your feet into your shoes. You don’t even think, you just move.

You need to tell him. Now.

Before you lose your nerve. Before you talk yourself out of it. Before it’s too late.

You step out into the cool night air, heart pounding. The streetlights cast long shadows along the pavement, stretching toward Steve’s house, toward him.

That’s when you see him…walking, laughing.

With some girl you’ve probably seen before but never with him. She’s pretty, dark hair, bright eyes, smiling up at him like he’s the best thing in the world and Steve is smiling back. Laughing, carefree, easy. Never the way he is with you.

Then he sees you and his face falls. Like he wasn’t expecting you, like he somehow knows exactly what you were about to do because no matter how hard you try to stop it no one sees through you the way he does and like he's realizing it's already too late.

Something inside you shatters, you don’t wait for him to say anything.

You turn around and you leave. You don’t know where you’re going.

Your vision is blurring, breath shaky, uneven, hands curled into fists.

You don’t stop walking. You don’t look back. You don’t let yourself feel it because if you do, if you really let yourself feel it, you’ll fucking break and you can’t. Not here, not in the middle of the street. Not where he can still see you.

You don’t realize where you’re going until you’re standing in front of Robin’s house. You knock fast, arms wrapped around yourself, trying to hold it all in.

Robin opens the door, half-asleep, blinking. “Jesus Christ, do you know what time it—”

She stops. Her whole face softens. “What happened?”

You step inside, barely breathing, barely holding it together, then you break. “It’s my fault,” you whisper, voice shaking. “It’s all my fucking fault.”

Robin pulls you in instantly, arms wrapping around you solid, warm, safe. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing feels safe right now. Nothing feels real except the way your chest is collapsing in on itself, breath coming too fast, fingers gripping her sweater like you might fall apart completely if you let go.

“Hey, hey, slow down…what happened?”

Robin’s voice is soft but urgent, her hands moving up and down your back like she’s trying to steady you, like she knows if she lets go you’ll shatter completely.

Your throat is so fucking tight it hurts to speak, hurts to breathe, but you force it out anyway. “I was gonna tell him.”

Robin’s whole body goes still.

You suck in a sharp breath, chest heaving, forcing yourself to keep talking because if you stop, you’ll never say it. “I was finally gonna fucking tell him.”

Robin pulls back just enough to look at you. And the look on her face, the pure disbelief, the realization, the holy-shit-you-were-actually-going-to-do-it, holy-shit-i-fucking-knew-it, makes something in your stomach twist.

“Steve?” she asks, like she has to be sure. Like there’s even another answer.

You nod quickly, breath shaking, trying to keep it together. But you can’t. Because suddenly you’re back there, standing in the middle of the street, heart racing, hands sweating, ready to tell him everything.

Then the girl, he laugh, the way Steve had looked at her.

Your stomach clenches. You shake your head, biting back a sob. “And then I saw him.”

Robin’s eyes widen. “Saw him where?”

Your mouth opens, but the words don’t want to come out. Because if you say it, it’s real.

If you say it, then it happened. “With some girl.”

The second the words leave your lips, your throat tightens, hot and painful. You try to push the image away, but it’s seared into you. Steve walking beside her, easy and happy, like he wasn’t carrying around the same weight you were, like he had already moved on while you were still stuck trying to figure out how to hold him in your hands.

You force yourself to finish the thought.

“And he was…”

Your voice catches.

Robin’s fingers squeeze your arms. “Hey, look at me.”

But you can’t.

You squeeze your eyes shut, like if you don’t see her face, you won’t have to see his.

“He was laughing.”

The words feel so small. So stupid in comparison to the way they’re tearing you apart.

“He was… happy.”

Robin swears under her breath, pulling you in tighter, gripping you like she can physically hold you together.

“Okay, okay, just—” She exhales sharply, like she’s trying to find the right words, like she’s trying to fix this.

But she can’t, because you did this, because this is your fault.

“It’s my fault,” you whisper again, and this time, you feel something inside you break completely.

Robin shakes her head, fast, frantic. “Don’t do that. Don’t make this—”

“But it is!” Your voice rises, sharp, angry, desperate. Not at her, at yourself.

Because you did this, you pushed him away. You made him think he was never going to be enough for you. You waited too fucking long.

“I’ve been doing this for months, Robin!” Your breath is ragged, hands trembling so badly you have to curl them into fists. “I’ve been fucking running, and he, he finally had enough and now it’s—”

“He told me y’know? He told me he loves me and I—” Your voice breaks completely.

Because you can’t even finish the sentence, because the end of it is too fucking final.

Robin pulls you against her again, arms tight around you, whispering something soft and steady against your hair, but you barely hear it over the roaring in your head.

“It’s not too late,” she murmurs. “Trust me, It’s not.”

But you just shake your head. Because it is and you hate yourself for it. You hate yourself for so many things.

For being a coward, for waiting until it was too late. For loving him at all and then it comes out. The thing you’ve been choking on for months.

“I love him, Robin.”

Robin stiffens.

You squeeze your eyes shut, a choked sob ripping from your throat.

“I love Steve.”

Your voice is wrecked, broken, shattered beyond repair.

“I love him.”

And saying it doesn’t fix anything, It just makes it hurt worse. Robin’s hands tighten around you and you finally just let yourself cry.

---

Steve is already at Family Video when Robin walks in, half-asleep and nursing a coffee the size of her head.

“We have a problem. A big problem.”

Steve barely looks up from where he’s crouched behind the counter, digging through a box of VHS tapes with a deep scowl.

“Yeah, I know.” He groans, tossing a cassette aside. “They sent us two boxes of the wrong movies. Keith’s gonna have a fucking aneurysm if we don’t..”

“No, you idiot,” Robin cuts in.

Steve pauses. Looks up, frowning. ”…What?”

Robin crosses her arms, expression dead serious. “Y/N.”

Steve freezes. The tape in his hand slips from his fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

“What happened?” His voice is suddenly tight, sharp, urgent. “Is she okay?”

Robin exhales deeply, already exhausted. “She saw you.”

Steve blinks. “Huh?”

Robin glares. “Don’t play dumb, Harrington.”

That’s when it clicks, his face falls. “How do you know about that?” he asks slowly, voice almost hesitant, like he’s bracing himself.

Robin throws her hands in the air. “Because she came to my house at ten PM last night…crying!”

Steve’s stomach drops. “Wait, what?” He shakes his head. “Why? Why was she crying?”

Robin gives him the most exasperated look he’s ever seen.

“What do you mean why?! She saw you walking with some girl! She thinks you were on a date, dingus!”

Steve’s entire body locks up.

“What? No, no! That wasn’t—” He drags a hand down his face, heart pounding. “Wait, let’s, fuck, let’s take it back a minute.”

Robin stares at him expectantly.

Steve takes a deep breath, trying to make sense of the mess in his head.

“I was walking Mindy home. You know, Mindy, the one who works at the café next door? She got in that car accident last month, remember? She didn’t want to drive at night, and her boyfriend was working late, so I said I’d walk her home. Because I’m not an asshole.”

Robin’s eyes narrow. “So you weren’t on a date?”

“No!” Steve groans. “I told you, I was taking Keith’s closing shift! Why the fuck would I go on a date when I’ve been pining after the same girl for a year?”

Robin freezes andthen, it hits her. “Oh my God,” she whispers.

Steve rubs his temples, still processing.

“But Y/N, she was there, Robin and she looked, fuck, she looked so determined and then her face just fell. I thought—” He exhales sharply, voice wrecked. “I thought that was from seeing me because, God, I told her I was in love with her, and then I just fucking left. I did the thing she was most scared of, I left. I didn’t even give her a chance to speak.”

His hands are shaking. “Fuck,” he whispers, horrified. “I made her cry?”

Robin nods slowly. “Steve,” she says carefully, watching the realization slam into him all at once. “She was gonna tell you something.”

Steve’s mouth opens, ready to ask what…But then, he sees it.

He sees it on Robin’s face, the way she doesn’t say it but doesn’t have to. It crashes into him like a fucking freight train.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes, eyes going huge. “No way. No….no way.”

Robin nods. “Go.”

Steve doesn’t even think, he doesn’t need to. He just grabs his keys and runs.

-

Steve is out of breath.

His heart is pounding, sweat dripping down his back, his hair a mess from running his hands through it over and over again.

But he doesn’t care, because he can’t find you and he has to.

You weren’t at your house, you weren’t at the library, you weren’t at the cafe and every second he can’t find you, the panic in his chest gets worse.

He almost gives up, but then he sees them, the kids

They’re at the arcade on the bench, arguing over something stupid, but Steve doesn’t care.

He rushes over. “Have any of you seen Y/N?”

They all stop, turning to look at him.

“No,” Max says, frowning. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“None of your business.”

“Why are you sweating?” Mikes noses scrunches

Dustin's eyes widened, as he reads Steve’s face. His mouth drops open. “Holy shit, it’s happening!”

Mike blinks. “What’s happening?”

Lucas grins, nudging Dustin. “No way.”

Mike scowls. “Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”

Dustin points at Steve like he’s just uncovered the greatest mystery of all time. “He’s gonna go get the girl!!!”

Steve groans. “Oh my God.”

“Finally, fuck!” Lucus yells.

Steve scoffs, flipping him off as he turns back toward his car.

“You guys are the worst.”

“YOU’RE WELCOME!” Dustin shouts after him.

But Steve isn’t listening anymore, because he thinks he knows where you are.

Steve finds you at Lover’s Lake. Sitting on the dock, feet dangling over the water, staring out at nothing.

And when he sees you, when he finally fucking sees you, he lets out a breath of pure relief. His whole chest unclenches. You don’t even look at him when he sits beside you. You don’t startle, don’t ask how he found you, don’t even acknowledge his presence at first.

You both just sit there. The sound of the water lapping against the wood. The distant hum of crickets, the soft rustling of the trees.

Steve doesn’t know how to start this.

But you do.

Your voice is small, barely above a whisper. “I feel like I’m sinking.”

Steve’s whole body goes still, because this is it he thinks, the walls are coming down.

“Like I can barely breathe,” you continue, staring straight ahead. “Like I’m barely above water and sometimes I just… I just want it to stop. I want to stay at the bottom, where it’s dark, where there’s no air, where it’s quiet.”

Steve’s heart fucking breaks.

“And I feel horrible thinking like that,” you whisper, voice wavering, hands trembling. “Because those kids? They’re handling this better than I ever could and I don’t know why I’m like this, Steve.”

“Hey.” Steve leans forward, eyes locked on you. “Hey, look at me.”

You don’t, you just keep going because if you don’t you might lose the courage.

“I don’t like to get close to people,” you say, voice flat now, like you’ve rehearsed this, like you’ve convinced yourself that this is just the way it is. “Because everyone leaves.”

Steve’s chest tightens.

“My dad was supposed to love my mom and he did—” You pause, let out a bitter breath. “Until I came. Then he left and once he left, my mom didn’t want me anymore. Because I was—”

Your throat closes up.

Steve is listening so hard it hurts.

“Because I’m unlovable.”

Steve inhales sharply, like he’s about to interrupt, about to argue, about to tell you you’re wrong, you’re so wrong.

But you keep going. “Being alone? There’s less feeling involved. Less chance of getting hurt. Less disappointment. It’s just… easier.”

You exhale, shaking your head, “But you, Steve…”

His breath catches.

“You make me want to swim.”

Steve sucks in a breath.

“You’re the sun,” you say, voice shaking now. “Shining on the top of the water, lighting the way up and it’s so fucking scary, because—”

You finally turn to face him, tears clinging to your lashes. Eyes so open, so raw, so full of everything you’ve been holding in for so goddamn long.

“Because I love you, Steve Harrington.”

Steve feels like he can’t breathe.

“I love you.”

His heart is slamming against his ribs, his hands are shaking.

Because this is it, this is everything.

You clench your jaw, arms tightening around yourself, like you’re trying to brace for impact and Steve hates it.

Hates that you expect love to hurt.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he says, softer now. “I’m right here. I’ve always been right here.”

Your breath catches. “I don’t know how to be what you need,” you whisper.

Steve exhales. “You already are.”

Steve finally pulls you in, pressing his forehead against yours, holding onto you like he’s never going to let go, his thumbs brushing away your tears.

“Say it again.”

You blink, surprised. “Steve…”

“Please.” His hands are on your face now, cupping your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the tears. “Say it again.”

You let out a breath, a broken, shaky, beautiful breath.

“I love you.”

Then he kisses you and it’s not soft.

It’s everything.

It’s months of tension snapping like a rubber band.

It’s his hands shaking against your skin, your fingers tangling in his hair, both of you holding on like you’re afraid this moment might slip through your fingers.

It’s the realization that neither of you have to be alone anymore.

That you’re finally, finally getting it right, when you finally pull away, foreheads pressed together, breath mingling, hearts racing.

Steve smiles. “I love you too.”

[willowlovesthingsss]

source

go fuck your mother (sorry ☝🏼)

go fuck yourself (not sorry ☝🏼)

(pls I hate him)

[willowlovesthingsss]

𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐦

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧! 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐱 𝐟em!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬, 𝐦𝐱𝐦, 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 (𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡

(first smut, nervy smh) didn’t proofread tbh

Enjoy!

You, Eddie, and Steve had all been relatively close for a while. You and Eddie were childhood friends because you both were considered the weird kids growing up. You were the “fat” kid, and he was just “weird.” You enjoyed his company though, and you never figured he was weird by any means.

He was the sweetest boy you knew, the sweetest boy you would ever want to know. You were sure you were in love with him. You were almost sure that Eddie might have loved you too, that was until Steve Harrington came along and really confused you.

You knew that Steve and Eddie were…acquaintances. He used to be the Hawkins high school’s drug dealer, and jocks loved getting high off of shit they couldn’t even name. Steve was one of them. You always noticed how Steve failed to pick on Eddie or you for that matter, despite his friends giving you both near hell. He’d just watch from the sidelines with a grimace on his face, or he’d pretend not to be watching. It was weird you always thought.

The weirder part however was how much the two hung out now.

You often found the two getting high out of their minds in Eddie’s living room on nights that you had sat aside for premium movie watching…for just you and Eddie.

You remembered the first night where Eddie pulled you aside and almost begged you to let him stay.

“You won’t even notice he’s here.”

And you didn’t, not really.

Steve was very polite, overly polite even. He felt out of place between you and Eddie, and he didn’t want you to dislike him.

He immediately offered any snack Eddie handed to him to you, he let you pick the movie on his nights to pick, he let you get the majority of the blanket you three would share, and he would even let you dose off on his shoulder if you hadn’t leaned on Eddie already in your consciousness.

Steve was so nice, so so very nice. It was impossible for you to not end up liking him. He was so sweet to Eddie as well. He never really judged him for anything he liked, sure he would joke about him being a loser and such, but he never judged.

He would watch Eddie practice guitar as you sat at his desk doodling something. He even helped him paint his DND figurines once. Though they sometimes bickered like children, they appeared to be the best of friends now.

Steve was also great with keeping up with both you and Eddie’s interests. You mentioned to him once that you wish there was a way to enjoy sweets without all the sugar, and he baked you a batch of sugar free cookies.

He and Eddie ended up eating most of them after getting the munchies that night he brought them to you, but he made you another batch the next day.

He knew your favorite genres of movies and would bring over movies he thought you would like on nights where it was his turn to pick. He also brought over any new horror movie to make it to the store for Eddie.

He was just so thoughtful.

He knew how much you loved to care for others. He would often have Eddie to lay on your lap with him so you could stroke both of their hair.

Whenever you caught glimpse of either one of them looking up at you, your stomach churned.

They liked you showing them the extra care, and you loved it. They would call you out whenever you were being seemingly too caring as well.

“Don’t worry, mommy. It’s just a cut. I don’t need to be put on bed rest for it,” Steve teased after you had been almost panicking over him slicing his finger with the very sharp, very expensive kitchen knives Eddie so suddenly could afford.

The nickname made your cunt tingle in all honesty.

He began to call you that more, and Eddie joined in being the bothersome little shit he was.

So this had you stuck.

You knew you loved Eddie, but now you think you might love Steve too. You also thought Eddie loved Steve, and you were no competition to the either of them.

Eddie was beautiful and unique, and Steve was hot and caring. You just felt like neither of them would want you when they could have each other, so you began to step away from them subconsciously.

It had became easier when all of a sudden Eddie was able to buy himself his own apartment. It had 3 bedrooms, and you wondered how the fuck he was able to do that, or what he needed all the extra rooms for. You hardly ever spent the night.

You shortly found out that Steve had been cut off from his family and that he was moving in with Eddie. That explained why he got all the extra rooms, but it did not explain where he got the money.

However, this did seal the deal on what you thought your chances with either of them were. You decided it would just be easier for you if you distanced yourself from them.

It would hurt you less.

They didn’t pry at first, figured you were busy working or hanging out with other friends. After about a week of you not calling either of them, they were blowing up your phone and stopping by nonstop.

You sent them away explaining you were sick. That would buy you at least another week.

In reality, you had just been sitting home all day after your draining work shifts.

•

The day had been particularly shitty, and you decided that relieving some stress couldn’t hurt.

You really weren’t into hearing over exaggerated porno moans, so you opened the live stream portion of the only cite you even knew to go to for…special videos.

Nothing on the front page peaked your interest, but as soon as you switched to the second page, “Subby Boys Want to be Obedient for You” showed up under the user TheHairandDaredevil69. You chuckled at the user a bit before you decided to click on the live stream.

You enjoyed submissive men more than you probably should have, so you were quick to get comfortable as the screen loaded.

As soon as the loading screen went away, you nearly fell out of your bed at who came up on the screen.

You had to squint a bit to make sure your eyes were not playing tricks on you. The distinct tattoos and perfectly styled hair of the boys set into stone what you were seeing, though.

It was Eddie and Steve laid on what appeared to be at least a queen sized bed making out.

Steve wore nothing but some pink, silky boy shorts and white socks while Eddie was bare and stroking his own dick as Steve tweaked at his nipples.

His dick was pretty. It was bright pink at the tip, unruly dark curls matching those on his head, and it was not too big. You imagined how good it would feel inside your pussy and your mouth.

You couldn’t help but get turned on. I mean, here were the two boys you adored making out on camera right before your eyes.

You began to put together that this is probably where Eddie got the fucking money for an apartment.

He was very well…endowed, and you were very curious to see what Steve looked like under his underwear.

After a while, Steve took over for Eddie, now stroking him at a pace a bit slower. He looked towards the camera, and it felt as though he was looking directly into your soul.

“Want us to do more, huh? C’mon baby, just tell us. We’ll do anything for you, please,” he pleaded with the camera.

You could feel your pupils dilate as you let out a silent “fuck.” You brought your hands down to your panties. You could feel the moisture seeping through the already thin material.

MommyDomming1985: Fuck yeah, speed up a bit!

Bigboyboning: Fuck you two are hot!

HopperJ19: Looking for a third?

You circled over your clit as they continued their endeavors on live stream for 1,000 people to see. You would applaud them under normal circumstances.

As you began to add pressure to your clothed clit, Eddie moved Steve’s hand from his throbbing dick.

Your brows furrowed until he began to pull Steve on top of him.

“Hop on up, honey,” he smirked arrogantly.

You liked that he didn’t hide his character in his sexual streams.

Steve rolled his eyes as he was pulled to be seated onto Eddie’s lap.

Eddie pulled him into a feverish kiss. He brought his hands down to his hips and began to rock the boy against him.

“Aw fuck it,” you groaned and yanked your soaked panties halfway down your legs.

You attacked your clit in unorganized circles as you watched Eddie begin to roughly grind Steve down onto his front because you truly did not know if you wanted to be the one grinding Steve onto you or grinding yourself on Eddie’s hard dick.

“Wanna show ‘em baby? Wanna show ‘em what you got hiding away in that hot little ass, hm?” he snarled as he moved his hands down to grab at Steve’s ass.

Steve nodded urgently, as he went to place hot, wet kisses onto Eddie’s neck.

You couldn’t help the slight moans coming from your mouth as you sped up your own motions.

You wondered what Eddie meant by that. You never took Steve to be the type to like to play in his butt. You were wrong about a lot of things today, though.

Eddie maneuvered him over so he was bent over more, ass sticking farther out. He gave his ass a firm squeeze before pulling the boys underwear just underneath the fat of his cheeks. He fondled it, causing Steve to moan whorishly.

“Look at that ass,” Eddie groaned as he bit his lip. “Gonna show everybody.”

Eddie pulled the boys cheeks apart to reveal the jeweled plug nestled into his pink little hole.

He jiggled his cheeks as he held him open, and you couldn’t help but notice how the plug was particularly your favorite color.

Surely, it couldn’t be intentional you reasoned. They probably never would have expected you to find them. They definitely did not want you to.

Still, the scene was so hot that you brought your fingers down to the source of your leaking arousal. You dipped one finger into your sopping hole and let out a long, gutural moan.

“Wanna fuck him, mommy? Bet you want to fuck that ass, huh? Get a big strap just for him. Maybe stick a vibe in there. Watch him squirm around,” he growled, “You’d like that huh, baby?”

Your eyes widened immediately.

Mommy?

That’s what they both called you in tandem. Hell, they rarely even called you by your real name anymore. You thought it was innocent, teasing maybe.

Maybe you were wrong about that too.

He slapped Steve’s left asscheek, “Slut.”

ReadyToTop_.: fuck yeah, would love to see how he stretches.

Girlygirlfuntime: The way you say mommy gets me wet

Iddoit420: I’d do it.

Steve mewled but sat up too. He yanked Eddie back by his hair and stared intently into his eyes. “You’re a slut too, right? All it takes is someone messing with your hair and your big dumb cock is throbbing. Tell em, tell them that you’re a slut.”

Eddie looked directly into the camera as you inserted a second finger into your soaked cunt.

“Fuck yeah, ‘m a slut,” he smirked, “slut for you mommy.”

His sly grin nearly made you cum, but you knew the clarity and guilt would hit immediately, so you held off.

“Wish you were here mommy, put this little bitch in his place,” Steve groaned as he yanked on Eddie’s curls again, then leaned down to place a hot kiss onto his lips.

“Fuck want my fingers, baby?” Eddie asked once he pulled away. He groped Steve’s cheeks more before he looked directly into the camera. “Wanna see me finger that tight ass, mommy?”

The chat exploded as you found yourself subconsciously nodding.

MommyDomming1985: yeah! stretch him out for cock.

Callme_mast3r: fuck yes! bet he’d like it

Sadaddict69: sluts

Eddie slapped Steve’s ass causing him to let out a high pitched moan.

He bent Steve over again so that his head was laid on top of the pillows behind him, ass in the air.

He spread his cheeks with his large hands as he bit his bottom lip and looked up into the camera.

“Look at that boy cunt, mommy,” he groaned and jiggled the right cheek.

He grazed his fingernails over the plug before yanking Steve’s knees apart. He grazed over his balls and down towards the hem of the underwear resting underneath the boy’s butt.

He slowly rolled them down to Steve’s knees, much like how yours were settle on your legs

Now, Steve was fucking hung.

Even from this angle, you could tell he was packing.

His dick was an angry red color, probably from being tucked away this whole time. Poor baby.

Eddie ran his fingers over the boys cock, causing him to whimper. His fingers played with the tip as he marveled at Steve’s backside.

“He’s wet like a girl, mommy. Isn’t that hot?” Eddie grinned.

“Oh, fuck off,” Steve retaliated, and you grinned. They still bickered even in scene.

“Here, since you wanna be fucking bratty,” Eddie trailed off before he reached for something out of view.

Hell, you didn’t know what it would be, and that turned you on so much. You haven’t even seen the inside of their new apartment yet.

He pulled out what appeared to be a flesh light.

“No fucking way,” you whispered. When did he get that? How did he hide his seemingly vast collection of toys?

“Yeah, gonna slide that useless cock right in there f’me,” Eddie licked his lips as he took the cap off of it and placed it underneath Steve’s now quivering body.

He retrieved a bottle of lube from off screen and squirted a vast amount into the hole of the flashlight.

Steve wriggled his hips in anticipation, and you could see the fat of his ass jiggle slightly. You had to thank the years of adolescent sports for blessing this man with such an ass. You wanted to bite into it so bad.

“Yeah, slide that pretty cock in there, big boy. Just like that,” Eddie groaned as he watched Steve sink into it.

You pulled your tits out of your bra and removed the covers as you placed your laptop down onto your bed beside you so that you could reach deeper into your sloppy cunt.

“Aw shit,” you moaned as you heard yourself squelching messily.

“Fuck! So wet!” Steve shouted. Eddie placed a peck onto one of his many back moles. You wish you were there to kiss the rest.

“I know, honey. I know, but you better not move. You better not move until I get my fingers in this tight, pink pussy,” he commanded before slapping Steve’s ass again. This time his whimpers could be very clearly heard.

M4sterbro700: wow look at that hole!

Ihatem3n: beautiful!

Average.girl7: wow, nice ass

Eddie moved his focus back to the boy’s plugged hole. He tapped on the end of the plug, jiggled and tugged, rendering Steve impatient.

“Just get your fingers in me before I fucking do it myself!” he shrieked. Eddie’s jaw hung open.

“Feisty, baby. You need some patience. Maybe you’re the one who needs mommy to put you in your place, huh?”

Steve just nodded into the pillows. His hair bobbing messily.

The comments were begging Eddie to pull the plug out.

“Should I cut him some slack, guys?”

MommyDomming1985: yeah, wanna see that hole open

HopperJ19: yes

herforfn: yesssss please!

“Got lucky today, baby boy,” Eddie chuckled. He wrapped his fingers around the base of the plug. He tugged once, twice, thrice before the whole thing finally popped out of Steve’s butt.

His hole gaped from the sudden emptiness, and Eddie was quick to hold it open before it could wink close.

“Fuck, would you look at that? Wish I could shove my cock in there. Fuck, not tonight though,” he tsked.

You wondered why.

You couldn’t believe how much you actually wanted to see that, how hot that would be. Eddie fucking into Steve would make an excellent sight.

Eddie dipped down to lick a quick stripe over Steve’s puffy and now red hole.

“Mm, bet you wish you could taste him, mommy? Taste me too? Fuck,” he smiled as he reached for the lube bottle.

He warmed the lubricant up between his fingers before making his way towards Steve’s hole. He circled the puffy rim before finally dipping his fingers into him.

“Hngh!” Steve moaned.

“Fuck, look at that,” Eddie said towards the camera as he slowly moved his finger in and out of the squirming boy. “Yeah, you can start moving, baby. Know you wanna fuck that toy. You’re so desperate for it, huh?”

“Yea-yes. S-so desperate!”

Eddie switched hands quickly, Steve didn’t seem to notice as he was fucking his hips down into the flesh light.

He leaned on back as he lazily fucked his two fingers in Steve’s ass. He began to steadily stroke his cock as he read the chat.

HopperJ19: bet he looks so pretty cumming

Gayrainbowkitt34: need more ass shots please!

Iwillmakeyoumine21: you look so hot stroking and fucking him!

“Fuck,” he sighed as he sped up his ministrations on his cock. You always knew Eddie was quite dexterous.

He pulled his right hand from his cock and pulled Steve into a hot, rushed kiss.

The kiss was beyond sloppy. You could see it was all teeth, tongue, and spit. Eddie pulled them apart to lick over Steve’s lips before placing a small peck on them. He maneuvered him to lay back down onto the pillows before he reached his right hand down to help the boy move faster into the toy.

“Aw. I bet you wish that was mommy’s pussy, huh? You wish it was mommy’s pussy baby? Her hot, fat cunt choking your slutty little cock? I know, honey, but you need to tell her. Tell mommy how much you wish it was her that you were fucking,” Eddie egged on as bounced Steve’s ass into the toy.

“Mommy, please! Pl-fuck! Please, need it. Need your pussy. Want you to fuck me up! Wan’ it, wan’ it! More, more baby please!” Steve near yelled.

You brought your other hand to your clit to rub it in sloppy circular motions as you fucked your cunt with three fingers now.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Fuck mommy’s pussy,” you found yourself moaning along.

Eddie focused back on his cock, pumping it quickly. Sweat was glistening on his forehead, and his hair was bouncing with the movements of his own hand and Steve’s rapid humps back onto Eddie’s fingers and into the toy.

“Can I cum, mommy? Can I please fucking cum?” Eddie sighed, his dominance put to the side, “Ask her, baby. Ask mommy can you come.”

Steve moved so that both of his hands could hold onto the body of the flesh light so that he could piston into it hard, ass jiggling.

“Mommy please!” he moaned girlishly, before letting out a string of “uh-uh-uh”s.

“Cum baby, fucking cum for mommy,” you replied as though they could hear you.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum!” Steve chanted. His pitch only getting higher as he got closer and closer to orgasm. Eddie’s fingers were barely following any pattern as he was jerking his dick at the speed of light.

“Fuck, cumming!” Eddie grunted out as the creamy white splashed onto his stomach, chest, and fingers. Steve had jerked harshly into the toy at the sound of Eddie’s grunts, his ass jiggling harshly one last time.

You screwed your eyes shut as you focused on your own orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you let out as your body clenched, and you came. You continued to slowly stroke your fingers into your cunt to push yourself through it.

As you were coming down, Eddie had flipped Steve over onto his back, popping the fleshlight off of his cock.

He brushed Steve’s hair out of his face sweetly before placing a gentle kiss onto his lips.

“Look at that little cream pie,” he smiled as he showed the cum leaking out of the flesh light. Steve shoved him a little before sitting up and pulling his pink underwear back up.

Your chest heaved as you began to gain consciousness again.

“Alright, guys. Sorry we have to go so soon, but me and the Hair here have other things to attend to. We’re busy boys, hm?” he smiled towards Steve.

“Yeah. See you next time, mommy. Maybe you’ll join us.”

With that, you slammed your laptop closed.

Fuck, what have you done.

Pt. 2 coming soon :^>

Part 2

[willowlovesthingsss]

.......

I think your stuckage fruity four fic awoke something in me.

please....

WRITE MORE STUCKAGE, THERE'S NO STRANGER THINGS STUCKAGE FIC ON A03 AND IT'S DRIVING ME CRAZY!!!!

Omg ELLIE! You drive me nuts with this stuff!!!!

oho? stuck in a wall? my pleasure >:)

(cws: fruity four, mostly robin and eddie, bi/pan!f!angelface, post-vol 4, stuckage, jealousy, best friends to lovers, seemingly unrequited love, teasing, flirting, mentions of group sex + alcohol, squirting, oral (f/f and f/m), face riding, loud sex, praise + degradation, throat bulges, cum drinking, mentions of anal sex, fingering (a+v), mild spanking, references to virginity loss, references to steve fucking eddie, love confessions, a little angst around hookup culture, fluff and smut.)

This is just ridiculous. Eddie had laughed unbelievably hard when you'd had that initial moment of panic, that tug to try and get out only to be met with unbroken resistance. That alone was enough for you to huff and kick at him, and throw a mediocre punch in the direction of his crotch when he had come around the other side to check your situation there--no attempts to get you out though, just laughter and teasing touches of your hair before he went back around.

You'd just wanted to help him and his roommates with renovations--they wanted to knock down a wall between two bedrooms to make one larger one, for whatever reason, it struck you as a little weird considering there were four people living in one house. And Harrington's house might be big, but not four singles with their own bedrooms big....at least, you don't think so, but what do you know? That one hole just ruined it, though. You'd tried to be funny, ran at it with your hammer outstretched to joust through the first chunk of drywall--and then you went straight through both sides, your lower half still in the room you started in while everything above the waist is hanging out in the next. Fucking dingus.

You were just trying to be funny. Well, no, you were just trying to ease the tension. Eddie's been your best friend since freshman year, you've been through thick and thin together and you swore to always stay friends no matter what. But then all that stuff with earthquake happened last year, and the bounty hunt for his head, and you were suddenly the only person in Hawkins who didn't want him dead--and you were the only one to mourn him when you thought he was, aside from Wayne, of course. Only for him to come back with a new friend group, a new attitude, new scars, and.....you felt left behind, honestly. Hellfire and the band didn't feel the same after that, and when he moved in here with all his new friends, you just felt so abandoned that you did something stupid.

You got really, really drunk one night, called him up, and told him you loved him. Not friend love, either, not something you could brush off--you spilled your guts out to him, told him you always wanted to kiss him and how you dreamed about touring the world with him, how you wanted to marry him, and you think you told him you wanted his babies, but that part is where it gets fuzzy. And he said nothing, the line had been so silent that you mumbled an apology for calling the wrong number and hung up. You knew what you had done in the morning, though, when Eddie was throwing pebbles at your window and trying to get you to talk to him, which you declined, thinking through tears that it was time for you to finally just let him move on like he obviously wanted to. But the week after that--last week, exactly six days ago--you had been invited to this very house for a smoke and a drink, a celebratory one to warm the house even though they moved in like two months ago. And you went, because fuck it, what else did you have to lose?

As a woman scorned with unrequited love and slowly dwindling friendship, you had obviously taken the opportunity to get fucking wasted as soon as you possibly could. The others had followed your lead too, they were surprisingly fun people despite their reputations, so it wasn't long before you were laughing and chattering away like there wasn't a shred of awkwardness between you all--like you didn't hold any resentment towards him or his new friends for taking him away from you. You kinda lost all that when you started drunkenly making out with his friend Robin, so faded from the world that you didn't even register the fact that none of them were jeering or wolf whistling at you kissing another girl. You knew even then that, even though you were in the midst of convincing yourself that this was just spite and you were doing it to piss Eddie off, you really liked it--and that hadn't been a surprise, you knew you liked women and Eddie knew that too.

But it escalated when you started pulling at her clothes, and when you started kissing Steve, and then when you moved on to sit in Nancy's lap--and before you knew it, you were in the middle of the most hazy group sex of your life, nothing but pure ecstasy running through your body the whole night until you passed out. Waking up next to Eddie the next morning had been a moment of temporary bliss, but you remembered it all pretty quick, and grabbed your shit before practically running out of the house and not bothering to ask questions. Though you'd sat in your car for at least ten minutes with your head in your hands, recalling every second of what you had felt.....how Eddie had whispered such sweet things to you as you made love, how his touch had burned wherever he grazed you, how he kissed you like he was just as in love with you as you are with him......but also how his friends had touched you; how sweet they had been, how unusually tender they were with your body, how they stroked your hair and cuddled you after they had finished making you scream each individual name into the ceiling. It wasn't.....normal. It wasn't how you were used to being treated, it wasn't how your average hookups went--where they would fuck you, get their rocks off, and leave you when they finished if they made you finish at all. Or worse, when you'd find a girl you really liked, you'd have sex, and then she'd bounce right back to whatever boyfriend she had lined up so she could say she did it with a chick. Those were the worst.

Being stuck in the wall of the house where you fucked your best friend's friends, though? That's pretty bad, too.

"Goddamn it, Eddie, just break the wall around me! It's not hard, a fucking monkey could do it by now." You hiss, face burning with embarrassment at humiliating yourself for the umpteenth time.

"Nah. Enjoying the view too much, plus, you did this to yourself....hey, are these new?"

You're not too sure what he's referring to--until his fingertips graze your lower back, and he hooks his thumb into the strap of your thong that's peeking out. It's black, and soft....it's what Eddie likes, so it stings even harder when he snaps it back against your skin after pulling it taut.

"Stop fucking teasing me, Eddie. You're being a huge dick."

"And why am I being a dick?" He asks from the other side of the wall. You can huff as much as you like, but you're not getting out of this anytime soon, so you have no choice but to be honest.

"It's a dick move to lead a girl on. Especially when you're just....just dangling it over my head." You sigh in defeat, slumping over the wall and letting your arms hang limply. "And don't ask what. You know what."

"....You mean sex, right? You wanna have sex with me?"

God, you could just groan at his bluntness--not just because he's oblivious, but because it's making you fucking wet as it always does.

"Obviously."

"Eddie! Not fucking now, you idiot! Your roommates-" He spanks you again, rings leaving a pleasurable sting that lasts long after, and makes you bite your lip to keep from squealing and giving him the satisfaction. You just stomp your feet instead, heels raised off the floor that's still covered in a sheet of plastic to catch the debris.

There's a bit of shuffling behind you, an unusual silence from Eddie that you're not used to. You swear you can feel him brush by your ass, but you must be imagining it.....until you're not.

"Oh, that's good news....real good news, sweetheart." He mutters almost too quietly for you to hear, before his hand comes down hard on your ass and you suck in a gasp, arching up immediately with your hands grasping at the wall beneath you.

"My roommates are my partners, and they think you're a fucking sex goddess."

"Shut up--ah! E-Eddie!" You shake your head, hair flicking all about, but it isn't stopping Eddie from reaching around and unzipping your pants for you--and when he gets them down your legs, he moans out loud at the sight that he's rewarded with.

"Fucking Christ....listen, they like you, and I've been in love with you since I was, like, fourteen--shit! S-Since we lost our virginities to each other.." You do remember that time, tenth grade--you were fifteen, but you're not gonna correct him right now--when you were such good friends you made a pact to take each other's virginity. That was when you were such good friends that it felt like nothing else mattered, and now.....now, years later, you're finally turning into something else.

He doesn't even bother playing around with the thin piece of fabric stretched over your cunt, he's too eager to just pull it down your hips with those rough fingers. You can tell he's on his knees by the breath on your thigh, and the almost tender way he spreads you out with his thumbs to look--he obviously didn't get enough out of the last time you hooked up, and it's a good enough thought that you find it in you to chuckle about it. You relax a little bit, finally, and he must be able to see it if his "fuck, baby" is any tell.

"You fuck like a virgin, Eddie." A smirk flickers across your face, confidence filling you back up now that your best friend's attention is on you again. "Desperate and clingy. And...cute. So damn cute."

"I am desperate. Anyone who sees a pussy like this'd get fucking desperate." He presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, slowly trailing them up your skin with his hands ghosting over your thighs to hold each one. You only twinge a bit in pain when he bites a mouthful of your flesh, sucking on it til it aches before he lets it go with a pop. He seems to stop there for a while, but he's close, that pretty mouth poised so near to your bare pussy that you have to force down the urge to beg--but just when you seriously consider doing so, Eddie gives you an experimental lick, and you jerk so hard you swear a new crack forms in the wall. Then another, and another.....each one slow, and maddeningly soft, barely testing the waters and just getting a taste, yet it's making you drool and you can't stop yourself from pulsing down there. Eddie noses your clit and pays it a few special kisses, but then he's done and you're muffling your own whines with both hands clamped over your mouth. You know from last week that he's fucking good at eating pussy, and he knows it, which is exactly why he won't let you have it like you did last time. Too fucking cocky for his own good, and it's so goddamn sexy.

"Listen, I...I just gotta let you know," He mutters as he stands and unbuckles his belt, the frantic clicking only mildly distracting you from what he's trying to say. "I didn't pull away for no reason, I--I was trying to protect you, cause I-"

"Oh, Eddie, for god's sake, just fuck me!" You call over your shoulder, frustrated and horny and....fuck it, you're desperate, desperate for your most treasured friend in the world to screw your damn brains out. And he just chuckles, cock finally freed for him to tap it against your asscheek.

"Alright...alright, it can wait. I had a reason, that's all you need to know. Now, no more fucking around. You're mine." As he says it, he angles himself down to massage your lips with the tip, dragging it up and down through your slick before slowly feeding it into you. He's trying to be nice, but you're just too wet, and Eddie hiccups and chokes on his own gasp when your hips move and you swallow him in like you're just desperate for him to get on with it.

"Like that, huh?" He slaps the side of your ass, eyes trained on the way it jiggles around him and ears perked to hear your whining. Eddie doesn't have to try to get deeper, doesn't have to strain to be rougher--he's just perfect as he is, cock curving up to put pressure on that weak spot that's making you shake. "Better than fucking some jock, right?"

It is. Eddie's better than any guy you've ever hooked up with; more attentive, more creative, more....sizeable. You might have had bigger on some occasions but never so skilled to match, never someone who you'd be begging to move inside you like you are right now. And because Eddie's a nice, attentive, reliable guy, he obeys that plea--and he doesn't start slow, he rears back and fucking plows you like he's trying to push you right through the wall, and he might. His hips bash yours so hard on the down thrust you can feel parts of the broken plaster crumbling around you, but it doesn't make it any looser for you to wiggle through, and thank god it doesn't. This is what you wanted, and you have no shame in screaming that for the world to hear, for everyone to know that you're taking Eddie Munson's dick and you love it more than life itself.

"I love how fucking loud you are. Make the neighbors jealous, honey." You can feel that smug grin from across the wall, one hand possessively squeezing your ass while the other's hooked around your bent waist to keep you steady against him. The constant thwap thwap thwap of his hips meeting your ass and his balls kissing your underside is so echoey, you aren't even paying attention to the door opening on your side and don't notice the person standing there until she sucks in a gasp.

Your head swiveling to look, you lock eyes with Robin--that adorable girl that made love like summer rain--and see that she's empty-handed, hand hovering over her mouth while her face explodes into a rosy-red blush. Curious, you think, and your ditzy smile gives her an idea of exactly what kind of mood you're in as you beckon her over, to which she complies quite hastily. You raise two fingers to your mouth and spread them in a 'v', the gesture earning you a pair of lust-blown eyes and a soft smile crossing her features as she moves to unbutton her pants in front of you, obviously having missed your touch from last week. As she should, you liked her so much from the first meeting that you'd been determined to make her see stars when you were done.

"That all you got, big boy? Or are you just a huge dick and nothing else?" You call over your shoulder, shooting her a wink while you reach your hands up to help her out of those bothersome clothes. The confidence is staggering you a little bit, the feeling of Eddie stirring up your guts a familiar one, and it's homey, almost--but it kicks up when you feel him stroke a place you weren't sure he'd be into touching, at least not before that last encounter when you'd woken up in his bed the morning after.

"Eddie! Eddie, fuck, that--f-fuck, that's sensitive-!" He spits on your asshole and rubs it in with his thumb, pressing it in just hard enough until it pops right in and sends your eyes rolling to the back of your head--right when Robin's got her panties down too, and you grab her by the hips to move her towards you, tongue stuck out to meet her clit in a near-feral swirl. Robin's knees buckle almost instantly, and she has to brace her hands on your head out of instinct just to keep herself upright, although it also means she accidentally shoves you down to lick her up even deeper.

"Yeah? Still sensitive after Harrington fucked it raw? Kept touchin' yourself when you watched him fuck me, ass already full of his cum....you know how fucking dirty you get when you're sloshed?" You remember that too, now--shamelessly palming your tits as Nancy nursed on your clit, your eyes zeroed in on Steve driving his cock in and out of your best friend for you to enjoy. He'd been too happy to do the same to you, and fill your head with dirty admissions of what he'd do to you if he had all the time in the world, but it was a different experience to watch him bend Eddie over and take him from behind. You felt filthy for watching it all the way through, and even filthier for letting Eddie eat Steve's cum out of you with Nancy when he was done.

You break off for a moment from your partner's body, breaths heaving. "You like it." Before diving right back in, moaning into a mouthful of Robin's pussy.

"I love it," His incessant bucking grows harder, the hand once being used to steady you now occupied with stroking your clit in messy circles. "Love watching you get all stupid and slutty when you've got a drink in you....you and Buckley were so cute..." Eddie moans, and you hum into Robin's clit in a knowing way that has her fingering her way through your hair, clearly trying to be gentle but so lost in pleasure that she's keeping your head static between her legs. Huffing soft breaths and whimpers that Eddie wouldn't be able to hear, grinding forward against the flat of your tongue to get that coveted ecstasy lapped into her clit.

"Always fucking wished I was one of those guys, knockin' on your trailer after dark....came in so many damn socks listening to you get fucked..." That's a new one, you've never heard about that. But it makes sense, now--the way he always seemed to avert his gaze the morning after one of your hookups, when you'd waltz into his trailer to have breakfast together with a pleasant glow and a satisfied smile. Thinking about Eddie rubbing himself raw with the window open as he listened to you getting your guts pumped....oh, if your face wasn't buried in between Robin's legs, you'd have the biggest smirk right then and there.

"An' now you're balls deep," You pant, pulling off of her one more time just to get an adorable whine out of her. "Made me so wet when you got that pout on your face, when you were jealous."

That almost immediately earns you a smack, not on the ass, but on the clit--and the aching, burning sting makes your pussy clamp down on him in a vice grip, your hair sticking to your face with a fresh wave of sweat as he keeps brutalizing your most sensitive spot with the palm of his hand....and it's so fucking good you could just melt right there.

"Yeah? Hear how wet you are now, angelface? Soaking wet for the freak?" He's right--for once, you can hear the sloshing and shucking of your own cunt gushing for him, your body responding to his treatment with no aid from your own hand or an active imagination. With your thumbs spreading Robin's sticky cunt apart, you look up to watch her whimper into her hand as the cool air hits her sensitive areas, before choking on her own moan as you shove your face back between her legs with your tongue outstretched. Your hands come up to grab at her ass, poor cheeks dug into with little crescent-shaped nail marks as you trap her against your lips to suck her clit into your mouth, her hips jostling you as she chases the pleasure with both hands firmly grasping the back of your head.

"Drenching my fucking balls, lucky there's plastic down....you gonna squirt for me again, huh?" He spanks you again, and maybe he can hear how muffled your squeals are from having a mouthful of his girlfriend-roommate's pussy, but you don't fucking care. Even less so when Eddie makes a noisy show of sucking his middle finger into his mouth, before he presses it right up against that empty hole he was teasing and working it all the way inside, his spit making short work of any resistance your body might have had. Your hips jerk at the filthiness of it, as well as the ache he stirs back up that you remember from the last time--god, you swear you can still feel his roommate's monster of a cock splitting your asshole open, and when Eddie spits again to lube you up more, you're left completely at the mercy of his assault on all three sides as you feel that familiar rush of heat churn in the very deepest pit of your stomach. "Make a fucking mess for me, sweetheart. Then I'll come around and let you lick my balls clean." He moans, and with his cock bruising your inner walls as they cling to him on every thrust, and Robin riding your face to kingdom come as her cunt starts spasming with an orgasm she can't hold back, you just let go completely and mumble out a myriad of frantic cries as your brain muddles into a whited-out void of pleasure--and as you do, Eddie's finger hooks inside your ass to bring you all the way down to the base as you feel that release of fluid burst out and spray indiscriminately all over his lap.

"Shit! Damn, fuckin' gushing for me, you're so fucking gorgeous--ohh, that's a big one, isn't it angel?" His tone has a twinge of mockery to it, shakily pulling out but keeping both hands where they still work, so he can no doubt stand back and watch your pussy continue to weep and gush out that clear fluid all over the plastic-protected floor. His other hand moves clear to see the stream properly but he keeps it on your clit, arm curved around the underside of your belly to keep rubbing more out of you even when there's black edges to your vision and you can't even keep up with Robin's orgasm--you just let her yank your head by the hair and hump your face, unable to keep down her gasps as she spasms and clenches around nothing but rides out that endless pleasure on your flexing tongue.

When she finally manages to stumble back, and breaks that constant assault on her nethers that she definitely thought might melt her brain to mush, you're left panting and starry-eyed with a sticky face, your hair matted down with sweat and slick as you try to let yourself come back down to earth. Your ears barely register Eddie coming around to the other room, but when he appears there in all his half-naked glory, all three sets of eyes widen when he gets a look at the sight waiting for him.

"Buckley?"

Meek and shy now that she's not having her pussy eaten, she just waves, still breathing heavy and hunched over to brace her hands on her knees. But annoyance is not the emotion etched into his face, especially not when he clicks his tongue and moves over to where you're still stuck, a hand soon fisting itself in your hair to yank your sagging head up and get a look at the state of you.

"Ohh, I see....angel here was helping herself, huh? Eating up like a fucking dog?" Robin nods, letting out a soft laugh like she can't actually believe she just did what she did. Maybe it's remorseful, and that stings a little bit....but the feeling isn't dwelled on too long, when Eddie guides his achingly stiff, dripping wet cock towards your mouth, and smirks from above you as he taps it against your lower lip. "There's your bone, pup."

In one long stroke, he splits your lips apart and tests the boundaries of your throat as he squeezes himself all the way to the back of it, the instinctual clench down around him giving him the go-ahead to start moving. He's slow at first, attentive, wanting to warm you up, but you're not that inexperienced and you show him exactly how ready you are by sucking him off so hard he flinches, and snaps his hips forward so suddenly he breaches an even deeper spot that he didn't even think was possible. Eddie keeps thrusting harder, chasing his own pleasure with only a casual interest in your comfort--it's exactly how you like it, head pinned to his hips and throat bulging like you're in Alien.

But then, like a fairy breezing by your skin in the middle of a quiet wood, Robin's fingers brush a few errant strands of hair from your face, and she kneels by the wall you're still a prisoner of to start kissing up and down your jaw to the shell of your ear. Whispering sweet words that drown out the shucking of Eddie resizing your throat to fit his girth, showering you with much-deserved praise that has you spilling and leaking down your legs all over again, like you didn't just squirt so hard you probably soaked the whole floor of the other room.

"Look at you, pretty girl, taking Eddie so well." She croons, grazing her touches over the bulge of your throat as it sinks and stretches, inadvertently causing Eddie to groan as he's stroked off in an even more intense way. "I've never cum that hard in my life, all thanks to this gorgeous mouth. You make love like an angel, baby."

Her voice feels so smooth in your ear, presses down any of those ugly thoughts you might have been keeping in, and makes your mind go so fuzzy again that it doesn't even hurt--the ache in your jaw just kind of simmers down, and the serene relaxation you feel opens up an even deeper path for Eddie to blaze down that has him humping your mouth more erratically than ever, crying out that he's gonna cum, he's gonna cum for you, fuck, he's cumming baby he can't hold back-

"Th-That's it--take it all, swallow, don't think too much about it....just drink it, kay? S'good for you." He moans down at you as he slows to a crawling stop, hips jolting once or twice with an especially good shot of cum, but otherwise he spills into your throat at a feverish pace that matches how good he fucked you from behind. Robin sucks a bruise into your neck, shaking from reciting those dirty words she had memorized to say to you, and gingerly strokes that poor skin of yours to ease the flow of Eddie's cum down into your belly. Warm. Everything's so warm, and while you feel an overwhelming urge to pass out as soon as Eddie unhinges himself from your mouth, a smack of your lips together reignites that bitter taste of cum that instantly has you alert and squirming again for more affection. You don't want it to end yet--please, don't end too soon again.

"Forget the big bedroom--we should leave the glory hole, make it a permanent fixture." He smirks, and squats down to look you in those glazed, hazy eyes. He can see it, see that neediness in you again, made only stronger with Robin sweetly stroking your hair as she fixes her clothes back to normal. The thud of a car door slamming shut has his head swiveling to glance over his shoulder towards the window, curls bouncing back and forth again when he turns his attention back to you. "Now, I need a piss, and a smoke. You wanna come out, or you wanna wait for the others to find you? I heard their car pull up just now."

Now you can hear the distant sounds of the front door opening and closing, shoes being kicked off, Nancy's voice reminding Steve to leave his dirty sneakers on the mat. The heat stirs up again as you remember the last time you saw them....

"Steve's gonna want to have a turn, so's Nancy. Think you can handle all that?" Though you've gotten your release and gotten it good, it still feels like there's something churning up inside you, like there's a pressure in your groin that you need to relieve and it's burning the longer you go without stimulation. You want it bad, so bad, and a whine has Eddie getting to his feet with his hands braced on his knees for balance. "Ah, forgot. Can't relax unless you cum hard enough to pass out, can you?"

You hum in agreement and it induces a chuckle out of your best friend, who while rosy-cheeked and has a look of satisfaction about his glowing skin, seems like he doesn't yet want to leave you even though he needs a bit of time to cool off. "Alright, I'll be back. I love you." He ruffles your hair and kisses the top of your head, before readjusting himself and heading out the door as Robin finally gets back up herself. Even the thought of being alone right now has you wriggling where you're still stuck, but the thumping footsteps climbing the staircase draw that desire back up into your throat.

"Sweet. I, uh....I love you, baby. See you soon."

"You need anything, sweetness?" You shake your head, looking up at Robin with pure, glimmery eyes that don't betray how eager you are to get used as a cumdump for the second time. "Okay. I promise Nancy and Steve'll get you out when you're done, so don't worry. Come sleep in my bed after, okay?"

She's so nice. So sweet. She's your partner now, huh? That's what Eddie said he wanted, and what they wanted, and he wasn't all that clear about it but Eddie's never really that transparent when it comes to his feelings....at least when they're about you. Or maybe you're just not used to his directness being so honest and from the heart, so you don't know whether to take it all as truth or not. But Robin really looks like she's feeling the same as she fixes herself up, nervously fluffs her hair before she fidgets with her belt and swings around to head towards the door. Maybe you could get her to stay....but Steve and Nancy are almost here, and you can bet she needs a little break after you blew her mind. Heh. You really did, didn't you? You really made her feel so good she wants to stay, and that's just....well, it's a first. A really, really, really nice first.

[willowlovesthingsss]

what the fuck.

[willowlovesthingsss]

bucky eating you out while steve eats your ass! that lil shit is such a closeted freak. bucky is too, just not as closeted LOL

loves to tease steve about how much he likes eating your ass until one day he’s like “keep talking shit” and eats bucky’s ass and bucky is just on cloud 9 😛

Better than thought

Bucky loves to tease Steve about his way to pleasure you, even though it’s better than he thought.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Girlfriend!Reader

Wordcount: 3.890 Words

Warnings/Tags: established relationship, petnames [bay doll, princess, King grumpy, Majesty Sunshine], possessive, grumpy, poly relationship, smut [oral (fem!/male!rec), oral pussy/ass, fingering, handjob, squirting, cum, humping, praises]

Authors Note: Thanks for the request. Waking up and reading such a filthy thing is… needs a day filled with writing because this thought didn’t want to leave my mind, so here. Divider made by me.

Events: Stucky Bingo [SB6010 | B3 | Writing Format: Second Person | @stuckybingo], Sweet Spicy Bingo: Beginnings Bingo [Row Three-Three | First Orgasm | @sweetspicybingo]

Masterlist | Stucky Masterlist

The sun is painting your bedroom in a beautiful yellow-orange when the sun goes up. You're snuggled with your face into Bucky's chest, while Steve has his strong arms wrapped around your waist to keep your back pressed against his chest.

Bucky turns slowly; after a while, the sun on his face is too bright to keep sleeping, plus both of your two super soldiers love to stay up earlier. Or wake up early to watch you sleeping like creeps - or puppies in love. You're not sure which fits better, because they are cute, but it's also weird and funny to know that they watch you while you're sleeping.

"Mornin'," Steve grumbles, pulling you even closer against his chest. Bucky chuckles, a low rumble leaves his chest, and he turns on his side to place an arm over your waist, his fingertips tracing Steve's stomach slightly. "Gonna come run and go to the gym with me?"

Bucky shakes his head, bringing his face to your shoulder and hiding it. He can be such a grumpy face in the morning, and it can be pretty funny when he's all grumpy and doesn't talk. Bucky's mostly growling, but even though you don't get many words out of the man in the mornings, you and Steve love it.

"So, you want to be grumpy and pull her into your grumpiness with you?" Steve jokes and Bucky growls once again. This time it's muffled with his face buried in the crook of your neck. Steve can't help the low chuckles slipping past his lips. He's bringing his hand to Bucky's head, stroking a few of his strands behind his hair. "Sleepy head and grumpy face working together, huh?"

"Mhm," Bucky hums, his tone sounding more happy this time. Steve keeps stroking his fingers along Bucky's cheekbone a while longer, his ocean blue eyes lingering on the both of you.

"You know, your lovely muscles - the ones you adore so much, especially when you can make them bulge in front of her—they need some training too," Steve keeps teasing the brunette. Bucky ignores him, pressing his face further into your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.

"Loves them anyway," Bucky mumbles, and Steve's eyes widen. He barely gets a word out of his boyfriend's mouth when he just woke up. Steve chuckles, nodding; he pulls his hand slowly away and turns around to get out of the bed. "'N you too, majesty sunshine."

"Really, King grumpy?" Steve laughs at the nickname. Both of them got these nicknames after you noticed their different ways of behavior after waking up. Steve is - no matter how bad or cold the weather is - a sunshine. And Bucky is - no matter how sunny or warm it is - a grumpy face in the mornings. So, you called them by that name, and somehow they love it so much to tease one another that they keep the nicknames.

Steve gets out of the bed, chuckling still. Bucky pulls you even closer, tangling your legs with his while he sighs softly in your neck. His grip around your waist tightens, and he kisses the soft skin of your neck.

"Mine... all mine," he grumbles. Steve dresses himself, a soft smile spread on his lips. A few minutes later he leaves the room, ready for his run and his training afterwards. Both of them know that you sleep at least one or two hours more, but Bucky refuses to leave the bed and get cold himself or get the bed cold so you would freeze.

Bucky keeps mumbling something between praises and possessive words. When you slowly wake up after a while, he pulls you even closer, nuzzling your cheek. You're practically pressed into him, arms and legs tangled together, and you giggle softly when you feel his stubble against your soft skin.

"Possessive baby?" You mumble, and Bucky nods, agreeing to your question. He is always possessive when it comes to you or Steve. And he's gladly your baby when you want it, when it makes you giggle even more. "Big baby, aren't you? Did you throw Stevie out of the bed?"

Bucky nods, smirking slightly. "Mhm, he's sleeping on the ground now," he grumbles, earning another giggle from you. "You should giggle more often; it's cute."

"It makes the grumpy's heart melt?" You tease, and Bucky grumbles but nods once more. Of course, your giggles make everyone's heart melt, just like Steve's and Bucky's wouldn't dare to deny that because he knows it's true. No matter how grumpy he is, you're always making him happy.

"Mhm, yeah. Now, come closer," he grumbles, and you raise one of your eyebrows. Bucky chuckles low in his throat, turning the two of you until he's on top of you. "Yeah, we can be closer; don't try to tell me we can't. I can lie on top of you, and then you have me on top, on your left and on your right."

You laugh as best as you can with his weight on top of you. But he's right, his arms caging you in on both sides, and he's on top of you. Bucky hums happily, leaning his head down on your shoulder, kissing the soft skin softly.

"My baby doll. All mine," he mumbles against you. "Say it, baby doll, pleaseeeeee?"

You sigh and nod. "I'm all yours, grumpy baby."

Bucky lifts his head, grinning at you. After a moment you narrow your eyes. Your boyfriend usually eats breakfast before you get up, but today he's still in bed, cuddled up with you.

"Aren't you hungry?" You ask, a bit confused. Bucky shakes his head a bit before his grin widens and his eyes darken slightly. "But you haven-" You gasp when he pulls the blanket away and slides down, hovering with his head over your lower stomach. "Do we have a 'King grumpy is possessive' day?"

"Mhm, mine. Gonna have my breakfast now; let Stevie hear what he misses when he makes his workout instead of cuddling and eating with us," Bucky mumbles. His hands snake down your sides, curling around the waistband of your panties to pull them down. With a low growl, he decides to rip them off your body, too impatient and too lazy to move.

"Bucky!" You whine when you see the scattered fabric of your panties. Bucky grins, pushing your legs wider apart before he lowers his head and inhales deeply. A moan escapes your lips, his breath warm and teasing at your wet folds.

"Mhm, so pretty, all wet and ready for me, baby doll," he whispers, kissing your folds. His tongue licks a fat strap from your leaking entrance to your clit, circling the bundle of nerves a bit.

You moan, arching your back. Your hands gripping the sheets tightly while Bucky uses his talented tongue to get more of these sweet noises out of you. His hands rubbing up and down your thighs, steadying you a bit when he delivers such pleasure. Your hips rolling against his face, and Bucky chuckles when he keeps kissing your clit.

Bucky teases you when he pulls his head back slightly. Your hands shooting into his hair, gripping his brown strands tightly to pull him closer to your pussy.

A low hum escapes your boyfriend's lips when he dives his tongue through your wet folds once more. His strong hands gripping your thighs tightly to keep them spread wide. "Tasting so good, baby doll."

Your back arches, and you grip his hair tightly, trying to bring his skilled mouth even closer - if that's even possible. Bucky groans, kissing your clit when you tug at his hair. His eyes finding yours, his mouth never leaving your most sensitive parts.

"Need me to take a break, baby doll?" He asks, his voice rough. Bucky's usual blue eyes darkened, lust written all over his features. His plump lips finding their way to your clit, kissing and sucking softly at the soft bundle of nerves.

"N-No, please," you whine, arching your back. Your legs are trembling, and Bucky grins before he buries his face between your thighs once again. Whines and moans leave your lips, your head thrown back into the pillow while you pull Bucky even closer against your throbbing cunt.

"Can't get enough of me eating you out, can you, baby doll?" Bucky whispers, blowing a bit of cool air against your neglected entrance. You whimper, thrusting your hips against him to get more friction.

"She can't get enough of me eating her ass either," another rough voice comes from the door of the room. You turn your head; your eyes widen when you see your other boyfriend standing in the doorframe. His short hair is perfectly styled, and you really want to run your fingers through it to ruin the perfection.

Your eyes move lower over his chest and abs, still glistening in sweat from his workout. He's completely undressed, like always after his workouts; Steve always puts his sweaty clothes in the wash. You wonder why his hair is so perfect, maybe because of all the sweat. However, it's perfect, and the light of the room makes his body glistening softly. Saliva almost drools out of the corner of your mouth when your eyes settle on his hard cock.

Steve is shamelessly stroking the thick length in his calloused hand. He grins at you, noticing where you're looking at. His tip is leaking pre-cum, and you lick your lips instinctively. "That's what you need? My cock down your throat while Bucky eats your pussy? Or do you prefer getting your ass eaten out?

A whine creeps up your throat when Steve laughs, his eyes settling on Bucky, who still eats you like you're the most delicious thing he has ever tasted. He hums, playing with your clit until you almost scream from the pleasure that's rushing through your body. Though, it's still not quiet enough to throw you over the edge.

"Say please," Steve commands. The moment you try to open your mouth to ask him nicely to give you his cock, Bucky thrusts two of his thick fingers into you. You moan loudly, your body tenses, and your legs tremble around your boyfriend while you come.

Bucky smirks, thrusting his fingers against your spongy spot, causing you to squirt over his hand. "There she is, such a good girl, baby doll. Now let's see if Stevie can make you cum better eating your ass than I did, huh?"

Steve chuckles, shaking his head but walking closer to your - accepting Bucky's challenge. Since the brunette is always making jokes and teasing Steve about his obsession with your ass, he now has the perfect chance to show Bucky that he can make you come just as hard as Bucky when he plays with your cunt. Bucky kisses your thighs a few times, causing you to whimper while you slowly come down from your orgasm.

Both of your boyfriends change places. Steve grabs your hips, turning you around. Your arms and legs feel too weak to hold you up, so you let yourself fall flat down on your belly. Both men start laughing, admiring your sweet, fucked-out form.

"Princess, I need you on your hands and knees," Steve mumbles softly, letting one of his hands run up and down your back when his other grabs your hips to help you get up slightly. You growl, as much as you want this, as much as you want to take a break before he brings you to another orgasm.

The three of you know that you can take more than one orgasm, but you also know that Steve is just as skilled as Bucky, even when he eats your ass instead of your pussy.

"Good girl," Steve praises when you bring your knees underneath you and lift your ass into the air. Your face still pressed into the pillow underneath, and you sigh softly when he kisses from your neck down to your ass. "Mhm, good girl, such a good girl for us."

Steve kneels down on the ground behind you, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. His hands move to your ass, squeezing and rubbing your cheeks softly. Bucky undresses himself, his ocean blue eyes on you, a wide grin on his face.

"Yeah, let's see if our ass obsession is making you cum better than I can, shall we?" Bucky chuckles, walking around the bed to kneel down on it and crawl close to you. Steve shakes his head, raising an eyebrow before he leans closer to kiss the soft flesh of your ass cheeks.

You moan, looking up at Bucky, who grips you underneath your arms to pull you up. You pout, placing your hands underneath you to hold you up. Bucky's crotch is the same height as your face, the tip of his dick red and leaking.

He wraps his hand around his thick shaft, bringing the tip to your lips. Bucky sneaks his pre-cum all over your lips, letting you lick it away before he slowly pushes in. You immediately swirl your tongue around his cock, taking him slowly down your throat. Bucky groans, throwing his head back while he thrusts in and out of you. One of his hands is tangled in your hair to keep you in place while he rubs the other over your neck and shoulders. Something he always does when both of your men use your hole for your and their own pleasure.

Meanwhile, Steve keeps kissing you, helping you to relax a bit more after the first orgasm you had. "Ready to get your ass eaten like never before, princess?"

You moan around Bucky's thick shaft. Steve often made you come like that before, but somehow his voice has that mischievousness and holding a promise that he will make you come like he has never done before. You wiggle your ass, humming low in your throat.

Steve chuckles, his tongue licking a fat strap from your cunt to your puckered hole. Your back immediately arches, and you whine around Bucky's dick. His rips rutting against your face, his balls coated in your saliva and smearing it all over your chin.

"Mhm," Steve groans, trying to push his tongue inside of you. His hands spread out your ass cheeks, and he kept pressing against your tightest hole. He slowly breaks through the muscles, grinning against your skin when he works the tip of his tongue in and out of you.

One of his big hands snakes around your waist to your clit. You shriek, trying to crawl away from the pleasure he delivers. But Bucky and Steve hold you in place, Bucky's cock down your throat and his hands on your shoulders, while Steve keeps one on your waist and one still playing with your clit.

"S-Stevie..." you whine, arching your back. He chuckles, two of his fingers thrust into your cunt. You almost scream around Bucky's cock; they both know you too well to give you a chance to control your body or orgasm.

Your legs give out, and you almost fall forward into the pillow, but your men's strength keeps you in position. Your cum is squirting out of you, your body shaking, and tears roll down your cheeks from the pleasure. Steve doesn't let go of you until your orgasm has faded, and you pull off Bucky's cock to roll on your back.

You're breathing heavily, and you whimper slightly when Steve gets closer, kissing you softly. He lets you taste yourself, growling into your mouth before he pulls away softly. "Good girl, you did so good for us. Now, who made you come better?"

With a roll of your eyes and a chuckle, you point at both of your boyfriends. While Steve looks satisfied with your answer that him eating your ass is as good as Bucky eating your pussy, your brunette boyfriend frowns.

"You can't really mean that eating ass makes you feel so good, can you?" Bucky asks, tilting his head slightly. Steve laughs, pushing up; he holds his hand out for Bucky to take, and he does. With narrowed eyes and slight uncertainty on his face, he lets Steve guide him to where you were kneeling on the bed for them.

"Let's find out, shall we?" Steve pushes Bucky with his chest first on the bed. Bucky's legs are still on the ground, while his ass is directed to Steve. "Princess, do me the favor and sit down on Bucky's back; he needs something to strap him down, or else our big boy squirms too much."

Bucky growls, trying to push up, but with a still fucked-out expression and a smirk on your lips, you crawl closer and sit down on Bucky's back. Your wetness rubbing over his back, and he moans at the feeling of your cum all over his skin.

"Fuck, Stevie, she's so wet," Bucky groans. Steve chuckles low in his throat, kneeling down again before he kisses Bucky's ass cheeks, his tongue licking over his puckered hole, and Bucky immediately hisses. He grips the sheets underneath him tightly, cursing under his breath.

"Feels good, huh?" Steve laughs, probing at Bucky's hole. The blond man growls when he feels the tightness of his boyfriend. "Your ass is even tighter than hers."

Bucky rolls his eyes, earning a slap on his ass. Steve doesn't even have to look at Bucky to know what he just did. He brings one of his hands to the brunette cock, stroking it slowly while he keeps probing at the tight ring of muscles.

After a moment he finally breaks through the tightness. His fingers tighten around the other man's cock, while you start humping on Bucky's back, making him whine and squirm slightly. "Fuck, Stevie, please."

Steve grins against Bucky's skin, keeping his pace slow but tightening the grip around Bucky's cock with every stroke a bit more. After a moment he lifts his head, peppering soft kisses over the soft skin of Bucky's ass.

"Look at our girl, getting off while you get your ass eaten, Buck," Steve laughs. He lowers his head again, pushing his tongue inside of Bucky once more. Steve speeds up, making Bucky whine even more. His grip on the sheets almost rips them apart while he tries to arch his back with you still on top of him.

"Fuckkkk, please, Steve, fuck, fuck." Bucky moans, feeling the coil in his stomach tighten further. Steve laughs, speeding the movements of his hand around Bucky's cock up, loving that he's right - ass eating is giving a lot more pleasure than Bucky wanted to believe or admit.

"Mhm, Stevie, making him," you hum, bringing your fingers to your clit to rub it in harsh circles. You're determined to come with Bucky, and from the noises he makes, you know he's close, needing just a few more strokes before his orgasm crashes over him.

"You should see our girl, Buck. Touching herself, wanting to come so bad with you. She's not as fucked out as we thought after two orgasms," Steve says, between licks over Bucky's puckered hole. Bucky's hole clenches, his whole body tensing when the coil in his stomach snaps and his cum coats Steve's hand and the floor.

Steve slows down, watching you while you come once again. Bucky and you are panting, sweat coating both of your bodies while you both ride out your orgasms. The blond leans down once again to Bucky's puckered hole, pushing his tongue inside of him again to force more of the white liquid out of the brunette.

"Fuck... this-" Bucky groans, around, keeping you on top of him. You're not sure how he managed, but you don't really care. Bucky pulls you down on his chest, kissing you softly. "Get why you love your ass eaten so much. Got off while Steve made me cum, naughty girl."

You giggle, ready to snuggle into your boyfriend's, but Bucky lays you down next to him, his lips lingering on your forehead for a moment longer before he looks at Steve.

"Let's find out how fast we can make you cum," Bucky mutters with a grin. Steve shakes his head, lifting his hands, knowing what Bucky's tactic is to make him cum as fast as possible while still giving him all the pleasure he wants.

Bucky gets off the bed, his legs still wobbly, but he reaches out to pull Steve closer, going down on his knees in front of him. Bucky leans his head back, smirking, his blue eyes locked with Steve's.

"I want you to take what you need, Steve," he growls low in his throat, bringing one of his hands to the other man's cock. Steve moans, throwing his head back. His hands find their way into Bucky's brown locks, pulling him closer to his cock.

Instead of taking Steve's cock in his mouth, he lowers himself further, licking and sucking softly at the blond's balls. Steve whimpers, a sound he only makes when one of you plays with his balls - something you discovered by accident when you wanted to tease him, just to find out he loves when you play with them.

"There you go, Steve," Bucky chuckles, taking them slowly into his mouth. You watch your boyfriend, smirking at the pleasurable expression on Steve's face. Bucky keeps stroking the other man's cock, slowly, to keep the focus of Steve on Bucky's mouth around his balls.

"B-Buck..." Steve moans, his hips rutting and his cock twitching already. More pre-cum leaks down his tip, and Bucky grins. He keeps looking up, his eyes on Steve's face. When the blond-haired man looks down, he comes. The sight of Bucky - on his knees, mouth full of Steve's balls, while he strokes the thick shaft of the other man - is too much for Steve to hold back his orgasm. The cum shooting onto Bucky's face and in his brown locks.

"Mhm," Bucky hums, leaning back and licking the tip of Steve's cock clean. A whimper leaves the other man's lips, his cock feeling too sensitive. Bucky uses his fingers to clean his face a bit, sucking the cum off his fingers. "Tasting good, Stevie."

"This shouldn't be so hot; it makes me wet again," you pout. Bucky turns toward you, a grin playing around his lips.

"It doesn't need me to suck Steve's balls to make you wet after you came three times where you squirted two times for us," Bucky laughs, earning a growl from you. "But yes, let's help you with your wetness; your poor puss is all neglected."

"Bucky!" You laugh, getting off the bed to walk into the bathroom. Steve and Bucky's gazes follow you. Steve's still panting but slowly calming down, his body still glistening with sweat.

"Those orgasms are better than any workouts," he mutters, chuckling softly. Bucky gets up, pulling Steve into a soft kiss, before they both follow you into the bathroom. "She's not planning to take a shower without us, is she?"

Bucky shakes his head, grinning widely. "She wouldn't dare to take a shower without us, unless she's in need of a good spanking with a few more orgasms afterward." Steve chuckles, nodding before they both follow you into the bathroom to take a shower with you.

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[willowlovesthingsss]

The (Un)Expected - S.R.

Type: one-shot, soulmate AU, good ol' meet-cute (soulmates meeting for the first time prompt)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 8k

Summary: 

A soulmark shows the first words your soulmate will speak to you. A soulmark tells you there is the person for you out there. A soulmark tells you what to expect.

For that, Steve’s is a source of comfort and anxiety to him. You always had a complicated relationship with yours.

But maybe they will teach you a lesson in the end – that the only thing one should really expect, is the unexpected.

Warnings: brief angst, mention of cancer (not reader), canon-typical violence, mention of death (no major character), blood and injuries, language, FLUFF so take it easy on sugar before reading

A/N: written for the Community Revival Extravaganza hosted by the wonderful @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 . Thank you both so much for hosting and stirring life in the fandom! I loved seeing the traffic and positivity on my dash - you're doing god's work 💕

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Steve Rogers was a sickly child.

He spent too much time to his liking in his bed – and even more time outside of it despite feeling sick for he couldn’t bear resting anymore, craving to explore the world instead – and was sneaked into a doctor’s office by his mother quite often as well. She only got him in as a favour, courtesy of her own good name – a nurse working double shifts and lending a helping hand wherever she could, a single mother working herself to a bone to take care of and set example to her only son.

A single mother, a nurse, a good person – a beautiful soul. She left this world too soon, but she left an imprint on Steve’s heart larger than any other person, perhaps besides Bucky, ever could.

All that told him, even as indirectly, that his soulmate would be one special dame. She would be kind, she would be brilliant and for that alone, he knew she would be beautiful.

Steve knew that as soon as he could read, as soon as he could decipher the words on his skinny forearm.

In a world where first words your soulmate would tell you were laced into your skin for you and your soulmate’s eyes to see only, his words told him his soulmate was a little miracle.

'I’m not a doctor yet.'

Steve had spent a fair amount of time around nurses and doctors to know that all nurses were women and the overwhelming majority of doctors were men – by the time he was ten, barely a few women were allowed to attend medical schools, let alone graduate. But you, you would be on your way to reach that. Brilliant. Driven. Desiring to help people, to heal.

It was only when other children, other guys and girls alike, began laughing at him for being too little, too weak, too bony, when his heart began to ache for a different reason than illness. If you were to be all these amazing things he had dreamed of, what were you to do with a sickly fella like him? With your words to him being these, it was a fair assumption to make that you would meet due to his health issues, perhaps a smart dame taken under a more experienced doctor’s wing during your studies. How disappointed you would be when your soulmate, the one person meant for you and chosen by destiny itself, would be… that?

That upsetting idea haunted him, hurting more than the bruises that had formed under fists of bullies Steve kept trying to save those even weaker than him from, more than stick and stones and words alike.

Then again… there was a little silver of hope in his heart, a little shy voice in his head. If you were to be his true love, then certainly you’d accept him, yes? If he tried, if he tried hard enough to be a good man, the best possible version of himself, if he worked hard to protect and feed his future family, set a good example for your future children as his mother had, worked towards making a better world, you’d accept him? If he could live with not being as great as others but never stopped trying, you would respect him and perhaps even loved him for what he was?

Then, of course, war came and those thoughts were pushed aside.

Then, he grabbed at his chance to fight that war, to do his part, to help – and incidentally, he also earned his chance to literally grow. Healthy. Strong. More worthy; but remaining good, because that was the one part of him he wanted to hold on to no matter what, that one part he would wish his love, wherever she was, would love him for, even if he suddenly shrank back into the back of skin and bones he used to be.

Then, he lost his best friend Turned into a failure.

And then… then he died.

One of his last thoughts were of you, a beautiful woman with vague appearance but strikingly kind heart and sharp mind. He prayed you’d get a new soulmate somehow, even as those cases weren’t heard of. He prayed you’d live a happy healthy life without him, at least as good as he would have tried his best to give you, to build with you, even as his own heart was breaking to pieces, regret veiling his body as water and snow and icy wind would, regret for missing his chance to meet the most special person in his world.

When he closed his eyes and still saw the white of ice and the blue of the deep sea, he’d swear he saw your face, crystal clear, for the first time – and the last time – in his life.

Seeing you, a stunning mirage, his last thought was that you were an angel gently leading him into afterlife.

When he woke up to a new millennium, one of the first things he did was checking his forearm; he words still sat there, taunting, mocking and heartbreaking, another screaming reminder of him not belonging here.

As years passed by, the sense of alienation subdued. Steve Rogers learned to belong, even as a piece of his heart was missing, longing for the past life – and the life he had never got to have – always humming in his chest quietly.

The mark on his forearm remained, a sad memento to a soulmate he had never met, turning him into a martyr.

But many people had rejected the idea of soulmates in this time, rebelling against their so-called fate, taking off on a path of searching love on their own. Steve learned they did so for various reasons – a sense of adventure before they’d truly find their one true love, a quest to choose the fortune and love on their own terms, a fuck-you to the universe when their soulmate turned out to be less than they imagined and hoped.

His own reasons, as he reluctantly started to look for a person to share his life with, were rather unique, but no one looked at him through their fingers for that. If anything, those who cared about him encouraged him, wishing for his happiness.

It was only when he got Bucky back – one of his greatest regrets not erased, not lessened since Bucky had endured unimaginable pain, but transformed, a piece of Steve’s past brought back to life – that he began to wonder about the almost blasphemous thought he had forbid himself from entertaining when he had been first brought back to life from ice.

Were you still there somewhere?

And then, a shier thought:

Is there still a chance for me to find my true soulmate?

And then, the shiest one of them all:

Is there a chance for me to find happiness with you?

When he had thought of that before, he was certain that since you were still alive – he had read reports of people claiming their soulmark changed colours if their loved one died – he had thought of you as an old lady who had hopefully lived her life as he had genuinely wished for her.

But what if fate, that little minx who had taken his best friend for life from him only to give him back, had somehow blessed Steve with a soulmark decades before you were even born? What he hadn’t lost his chance, what if you were still young enough to build a life with him? Was that even possible? There were aliens, flying suits of armour, other realms, downright magical weapons… he had been given a second chance at life. There were things happening Steve would have never thought possible before. So was there a chance…?

The idea of you being a doctor became much more plausible too – in this century, female doctors were a much more common occurrence. That, naturally, did not diminish your brilliance whatsoever, the fundamental idea of who you’d be never changing in Steve’s mind. The image only became less surreal in one way and a whole lot more surreal in another.

For his own sake, he didn’t give in into that hope fully; at least he told himself that despite lying awake at night, a ghost of a woman he had never met lying next to him, radiating non-existent warmth he wished with his whole being he could touch.

He wasn’t chasing after the ghost, didn’t allow himself that – there was no way to do so to his knowledge anyway – for the chances of success were rather slim.

But there was always hope, wasn’t there?

And the longing for love, whether it was in the hands of fate or in his own to find it, remained, built into his very body; etched into his bones, flowing through his veins, laced into his skin beyond the words on his forearm, always humming quietly in his heart.

In the age of information and science, the concept of having your ideal partner for life chosen by some mysterious abstract entity called Fate was literally otherworldly. Alien. Absurd even.

And yet, it still ruled the lives of many.

Which, in all honesty, was almost even more fascinating than the existence of soulmarks itself – the belief people had for them despite being no logic to them at all.

Perhaps it was the little piece of human soul, an inner child people so desperately wanted to cling to for its own beauty and purity, a child who never wanted to stop believing in magic, fate, dragons, mighty knights and kind-hearted ladies, in all things of fairytales and happy-endings the most. Because to a point, that was what soulmarks were – and little fairytale-like book of destiny.

One that not even science seemed capable of beating.

And you should know; you were somewhat of a scientist yourself. And despite how unfathomable the nature of soulmates was, you could not say that you rejected the idea of them, of someone who was born to belong with you, someone you could share your life with, the right partner in the crime of life. Basic bodily needs aside, wasn’t that the most fundamental need of all? To love and be loved; to belong?

Who wouldn’t wish for that reassurance that they could have that, that some strange force of universe itself created a person like that for them? They were the god’s strongest soldiers you supposed; because you were certainly not immune to that tempting comfort.

But you weren’t obsessed – and you prided yourself in the fact. Mostly because the sheer fanaticism of the world over soulmarks, the one thing that kept defying science – besides alien portals, magical blue cubes, demigods walking the Earth and things alike – was dialled up ad absurdum.

There could be billions of dollars poured into research of curing cancer. Cure autoimmune diseases. Helping the homeless. Slowing down global warming. Erasing poverty and famine. Protecting nature, endangered species. Discovering new worlds, exploring space.

But no. Governments poured billions of dollars into researching soulmarks. How was it they existed? How was it you could cut through skin, you could cut off skin and the mark would reappear somewhere else? What was the grand scheme of them? Why was it that only two people who belonged together could see them and the person speaking the words could only see it on their soulmate’s skin after they spoke the words, almost like a fail-safe that couldn’t seem to be broken with any tricks?

It wasn’t a question of physics as far as people knew; they had tried to build sets-up of various optics, thermovision cameras and complex sets of lenses and mirrors, and none of the reports you had ever heard of claimed success. It wasn’t genetic markers either; no one had discovered a sequence of DNA responsible for soulmarks, let alone turned whatever discovery they would have made into a tool of reading anyone’s but their own and their soulmate’s mark. It didn’t seem to be chemistry either; no one had made a groundbreaking discovery or at least they hadn’t informed the scientific or any other community so far.

But by gods, forget the space race. Attempting to be the first one to somehow read everyone’s soulmark and then create an algorithm to monetize it as the one and only soulmate dating app, now that was a competition overflowing with cutthroat madmen. Not to mention the crowds looking to temper with soulmarks, to make another one appear on someone’s body; or worse, to erase the original soulmark and instead design one capable of manipulating the outcome of a soulmate match.

You found the force of that obsession insane – and frankly, all the attempts morally wrong. While dedicated to science and loyal to discovery, you found soulmarks to be something sacred, one of the things that should not be touched by filthy human hands; god knew humanity, while doing a lot of good, had mucked up about just as much.

You were not alone in that belief. There were, in fact, numerous demonstrations against scientists experimenting with soulmarks, people protesting against anyone creating such tool and using it to temper with natural course of things no one fully understood, not for the lack of trying. However – as expected everywhere where politics and money were involved – these protests were in vain.

They were as vain and futile as the research of the marks itself.

As for your own soulmark, you had a rather complicated relationship with it.

On one hand, it gave you a sense of peace – there was someone for you, even as sometimes it did not feel plausible at all. You had time too – because based on those words, you would not meet your soulmate until in your twenties at least. You had plenty of time to become who you were meant to be before a man could turn your life upside down, even as that was not supposed to be what soulmates did, at least not in a bad sense of the word.  

On the other hand, it was a ball and chain. You would not find you soulmate sooner than in your twenties and sometimes, you missed them despite not having met yet. When imagining what your meeting could be like based on their first words etched into your skin, you feared they might be a little disappointed – even as you did not let that stop you from pursuing the life you wanted. And despite you wanting to choose the career either way, it felt like someone – be it god, fate or another cosmic entity humanity was yet to discover – had chosen the path for you the moment you had been born if not before.

'Doctor, are you alright?'

Four simple words that couldn’t be more ordinary and yet extraordinary for they represented one of the most meaningful encounters of your life. The source of as much comfort as anxiety.

You couldn’t stand hospitals ever since you were a child. The cold environment reminded you of the strange icy feeling that had settled in your chest over the months you had been visiting your dying father, your naïve eyes watching cancer bite off his energy and smiles first, before it swallowed his whole body and soul. He had been a ghost long before he passed; and in your mind, despite all rationality even years after, that ghost haunted any hospital you visited.

Learning what your soulmark was as a child, you had spent countless nights crying, soul torn into pieces, pushed and pulled between the visceral desire to live up to your soulmark and the crippling nausea at the mere thought of dealing with people drowned in misery caused by any illness in the cold institution they called a hospital.

However, the curious kid you had been, you had fallen in love with science itself.

And that one day at school, when a classmate of yours had brought their father to the class to talk about his job as a doctor, you had burst into tears. You began to sob in the middle of him explaining to third-graders that he was not a medical doctor, but a physicist with a doctorate earning him the degree of a doctor as well. You remembered your teacher leading you outside of class, concerned and absolutely baffled, trying to sooth you helplessly even as you were completely inconsolable – because you did not need consolation.

You were crying the happiest, most relieved tears of your life.

You could still be a ‘doctor’. And you genuinely wanted to be one, not just because of what your soulmark read. You had always wished to help people indirectly, even as you looked back at your life now. Sure, your soulmark could have been adding fuel to your drive when your motivation had been running low, but this was who you desired and was meant to become.

A molecular biologist. A doctor in making. Researching the effects of medicinal drugs with hopes to improve them.

A scientist not researching soulmarks, thank you very much.

And yes, there was the lingering feeling of missing a person you hadn’t even met yet – especially when Doctor Simmons’ face lit up like fluorodeoxyglucose in PET scans whenever she saw Doctor Fitz – but you had other things to focus on. And you had time. There was no pressure.

You were not a doctor yet, after all.

Naturally, just because you dodged the joys and sorrows of being a medical student and later on, a medical doctor, it did not mean that you had it easy. No one working on their doctorate did. But when you decided to pursue your degree and work in research, you signed up for that.

You signed up for a lot of things.

It was a little peculiar for you to be on the SHIELD campus in the science division without a doctorate. It was a known fact that SHIELD only recruited best of the best, this Science ad Technology in particular: you needed at least one doctorate to even walk through the door, which was something you were reminded a lot because you did not meet that requirement and here you were.

But SHELD owned the best equipment and you were fortunate enough to get in by the lovely game of fate, being good and driven enough and having met the right people at the right time. SHIELD Academy’s Science & Tech division had the unique equipment you often needed for your research. Your research was interesting enough for people who had perhaps more power over your little life than fate itself. Stars aligned.

It was no walk in a parc, but you were no fool; jumping after that opportunity after having one too many doors shut into your face was a no-brainer. Even though it meant signing up for a whole extra load of shit.

You signed up to be the weird girl. The privileged girl. Hell, even the stupider than local average girl, because you were only an engineer at this point.

You signed up for being the young girl, even as you had met a few people there who had started younger, having actually earned their first PhD at age 17 or less.

You signed up for mockery and misogyny, for as you were aware the level was blissfully low here compared to other workplaces, especially where science was concerned; in exact science, you observed, more than anywhere you ever heard of, it was customary to keep that one insufferable employee, because they were simply that good at their job, no matter that they had cost the department a few other employees.

You signed up for living on campus with other SHIELD recruits, which meant living in close quarters with other divisions; as a result, some days the whole area seemed to swim in testosterone emitted by the hulking special agents in making from Operations.  

But that was okay. You could do it.

There were bright sides too, many of them. Like pursuing your dream career. Being among like-minded people whose brain, to a large point, ran on the same wavelength. Hooking up with a handsome but notbrainless recruit from Operations or Communication here and there, some flings, some relationships, because if you were to wait for the love of your life, you might as well not wither completely. You were only human and you had needs along with your lifegoals.

You more than willingly signed up for working with Agent slash Doctor Jemma Simmons.  With her two PhDs and rich experience from the field, she had left the action behind in order to work on her third PhD and help humanity without having her life on the line every day. She was hard-working, with no-nonsense approach and lovely sense of humour with plenty of stories to back it up; she was overall pleasant person to work and be friends with and despite having been through amazing and terrifying experiences other people couldn’t even imagine, she remained surprisingly down-to-Earth.

Sure, she had her quirks like insisting on having a gun at hand at all times and stashing a few small vials of altered Molotov cocktail, a mixture of chemicals which would ignite upon the vial breaking, in one of the nearby cabinets – but you supposed there were worst things to get used to than that in a coworker or a friend. She used to be an active agent after all; in fact, unofficially, she remained one. Much like anyone, you knew that certain habits died hard and being through what she had been – she confessed to you that she once spent months on a nearly deserted ancient planet, among other things – left a mark. If this made her feel safer, you’d take it.

Another great thing about Jemma, Doctor Simmons, was that she was adorably English and was in dedicated relationship with Doctor Fitz who was a Scotsman, so that was the spice of long workdays at times; especially if you agreed to play Scrabble with them and a few friends in the evening.

But there were things you had not signed up for when following the alluring promise of a prestigious spot and unique equipment.

And one of them was a damn Nazi revival group in the form of fucking HYDRA attacking the lab while you were in the peaceful process of waiting for your PCR to finally be finished.

Influx of men in full tactical gear interrupting Jemma updating you the vacation plans, Fiji and all the rare species of fishes that could be observed there when scuba diving.

When you heard the first shouts, breaking of glass and dull echoes of gunshots from afar, your immediate thought was that you had been having a good day and that the experiment had been coming along nicely – and that whatever mess was happening was for sure about to ruin all your progress.

By the time panic settled in, Jemma was practically tackling you down, hand over your mouth to muffle your startled squeak at the sudden movement, her eyes alert and serious, screaming at you to keep quiet.

The sickening shouts of HAIL HYDRA, COOPERATE AND YOU’LL GET HURT LESS was what sent your brain crashing into reality; that and the distant agonized cries of people, coworkers and recruits you knew and met in the hallways every day, following the sounds of gunshots growing in volume and frequency.

You could hear Jemma shuffling next to you further.

You yourself were unable to move beyond stifling a cry behind your suddenly sweaty palm as another female voice wailed in pain.

Blood seemed to freeze in your veins despite your heart thundering in your ribcage and your temples and it helped you shit at all that you were aware that was such thing was literally impossible. By the time Jemma’s hand grabbed yours again and squeezed hard, you realized you were shaking – half in anger, half in paralyzing fear, half in utter shock. It didn’t matter it didn’t add up.

What mattered was the gun in Jemma’s hand. She was holding a gun, ready to shoot, because there were enemy agents, fucking HYDRA burst through the door, guns blazing. And killing people.

You were whispering with exasperation worth of a shout before you knew what you were doing.

“Why?! Why the fuck-“

“Probably the samples they brought in today, precious cargo,” Jemma whispered back frantically, loading the gun and reaching into another cabinet behind her. You only stared at her in utter confusion and mute horror, rapid heavy footsteps approaching and sending your already racing heart into a madness. “Gun or cocktails?”

“I can’t shoot a-!”

Before you could finish, the familiar sound of the sliding door opening and a horrifying echo of tactical boots reached your ears, a set of vials pressed into your palm.

You gulped, pulse thundering in your temples.

Those goddamn Simmons’ cocktails as you named them since she had insisted on keeping around.

You couldn’t believe the moment was here that you were actually grateful for them, even as they seemed to burn in your hand even with the vials themselves intact.

Your eyes snapped to Jemma’s face to question it wordlessly at least, but she wasn’t looking at you; she was listening intently, lying in wake as if she was the predator and not the prey you felt like.

Your own breathing seemed too loud as you allowed yourself to squeeze your eyes shut for but a moment, a desperate attempt to wake up from the nightmare; but the morning didn’t come.

Instead, a gunshot rang in the room, glass shattering somewhere above your head to your right, sending a waterfall of shards flying next to you.

And causing you to cry out in fright.

Which revealed your position to the agents flowing into the lab.

Without a thought you snapped your eyes opened, jumped to your feet and threw two vials in the direction of a black blur with a shockingly clear red patch of the mythical Hydra monster in the middle; peripherally, you saw Jemma attacking as well, deafening noise of gunshot nearly blowing your eardrum.

You crouched back behind the counter so fast you felt vertigo swing you to the left, sharp pain erupting from your palm. It was pure miracle your right hand didn’t clench in instinct and shatter the two remaining vials, setting yourself on fire as well.

As well.

Someone was screaming – a man, you realized – the acid smell of burned flesh and plastic and various chemicals punching your nose and your stomach hard. You had hit someone with the vial. They screamed because of what you had done. You had-

You had no time to feel sorry. You had no time to properly think fucking serves them right.

More steps, more gunshots, movements you weren’t sure how happened or came to you in the first place, flashes of light and crimson and noise and godawful smell--- and pain erupting in the back of your head and suddenly you were barely catching yourself on the counter with your slippery palm--- your fingers brushed metal, knees weak but hands grabbing with all your might, lifting and swinging, a sickening crack on your right before you were falling, landing on your wrist, back hitting the cabinet door and making even more noise as you sent equipment clattering around.

However, the loudest sound was another gunshot; but the strangest sound was unfamiliar whizzing and metal hitting metal and someone most definitely shouting “clear!” that sounded as distant as a whisper over the ringing in your ears.

Instinctively, your head snapped to the voice as you tried to prop up on your hands to see; the world swam in front of your eyes, dizziness forcing you to fall back on your ass and squeeze your eyes shut in hopes to stop the world from spinning, a sting in your palm drawing a hiss from your lips.

You could hear Jemma’s talking to someone, her words blurred into a mumble despite her voice sounding firm and methodical; footsteps, quick and heavy but somewhat soft, accompanied by a brush of air against your skin, making you open your eyes again just as navy blue with speckles of silvery grey glinting in a flickering light filled your vision.

Then, a face; an extremely handsome face even as a helmet made of blue similar to the rest of his suit covered the upper half of it, framing a pair of the dreamiest blue eyes you had ever seen, as beautiful as blurry as a dream indeed.

Somewhere in the back of your brain it started clicking into place – that the man in front of you looked a whole lot like Captain America and he was there to kick HYDRA’s ass; he was hunk and looked righteous and unfairly pretty, the cut of his jaw sharp enough to appear as if sculpted by ancient masters of art and it might be softened by the leather strap holding his helmet in place but that only brought out the sheer beauty of his lips even with a small bloody split on them.

And he was talking to you, his leather-clad hand gently grasping your arm as you involuntarily swayed to side when moving your head to take in the entirety of his large figure.

“Doctor, are you alright?” he asked slowly, velvety voice sweet and heavy with concern at once, the gentle but firm hold on your arm growing stronger when you blinked owlishly, the connection between the meaning of his words and his apparent intention to talk to you slow and fragile.

Your tongue felt as if made of lead even as it tasted of bitterness of adrenalin, but you willed yourself to answer, a knee-jerk reaction more than anything else.

“’mm… not a doctor yet.”

As you responded, you brain began to clear; and it occurred to you that it was a fair assumption for him to make.

You had grown used to clarifying, but hadn’t done so in months, because everyone already knew. However, he was an outsider to this lab and he couldn’t know you were the exception to the local rule. And you were wearing a lab coat, one that now had to be covered in mixture of chemicals you did not wish to identify, but perhaps you should try, because your forearm was beginning to burn.

The beautiful man kneeling in front of you silently observed you for what seemed like an eternity and half, surprise written all over his face. You couldn’t blame him; you were the weirdo of the lab. The fact the person who had purposely stacked explosives at hand was less of an anomaly than that was a thing to consider, but your head hurt too much to think about that and your heart was still beating unhealthily fast and his error seemed so insignificant in the grand scheme of things of HYDRA having attacked your lab and Captain America being right in front of you, holding onto your arm.

His soft baffled smile as he hung his head and shook it a bit with a breathless chuckle, and then lifted his downright shining gaze back to you, well that certainly made for a spectacular distraction from such unimportant thoughts.

Did his thumb just brush your arm as he still held you up a bit?

And had anyone ever told him he had a stunning smile that could melt hearts even if it was barely there and it was certainly melting yours?

“Apologies, miss. I’m going to help you get to medical, alright?” he suggested, those damn gorgeous eyes roaming your face with what almost seemed like wonder, even as his voice sounded all kinds of reassuring. “You’re safe now, I promise.”

Safe. You were safe. Because there had been HYDRA agents, but Captain America and actual SHIELD operatives had come to the rescue. And because Jemma was-

Jemma. Your straightened, dull ache pounding in your back as you did so, vision clearing a fraction with the sudden realization that you couldn’t hear your friend anymore. Your friend whom you owed your life very likely, but even if you didn’t, you would have-

You craned your neck over Captain America’s impressive frame, head snapping from left to right, nausea rising with the movement, but that didn’t matter, you had to-

You turned your alarmed gaze back to the man who was still holding you, an urgent question on your lips.

“Jemma? Is she--- Doctor Simmons, brunet, lab coat-“ you paused, realizing bitterly that you had just described half of the Science and Technology. “Female. She’s a doctor and an agent too, she was with me had a gu-“

A warm squeeze on your arm, the concern which had grown even more evident on Captain’s face melting away and giving way to a soothing smile.

“She’s alright. She’s already left to be checked up and to give her statement.”

Your shoulders sagged, your head dropping a bit; the violent vertigo that seized your body at that was not pleasant and you tried to blink it away, gaze catching the reflection of the still-blinking fluorescent lamp on the Captain’s shield.

Oh. That was probably what had made the whizzing sound before. As your brain conjured an image of that, a spinning shield flying through the air, you cursed yourself mentally for letting your mind even go there since you had already felt like you were the flying piece of metal and the thing you’d hit eventually would be the floor.

“My head is spinning,” you muttered absently as you attempted to refocus your gaze, praying to gods of religion and science alike you wouldn’t throw up on the poor caring man.

Why was he still sitting here with you? Surely there were much more important things to tend to than one little post-grad? How was he so kind and gentle? Wasn’t he known for inspiring speeches in a deep serious voice and for beating up villains with both his physical strength and brains?

So many questions and no answer in those pretty blue eyes.

In fact, the number of your questions grew exponentially when the hand on your arm released the pressure and gently rubbed your elbow instead; his free hand carefully cradled the back of your other hand, the contrast of leather and his warm skin surprisingly sensual, suddenly making you understand why so many regency era literature spoke of hand-holding as indecent even as it was barely Fifty Shades of Grey level of filth.  

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Captain Rogers said, snapping you from your thoughts. “Let me help you up and they’ll check you up too, including this nasty cut, okay?”

Huh?

Purposely slowly as not to make the vertigo worse, you glanced at your hand in his, feeling a fresh sting just by looking at your palm, your gaze instantly snapping away.

And falling straight onto two intact vials full of liquid of a distinct colour, lying carelessly about two feet away from Steve Rogers’ tactical boots. Your heart jumped in your chest, your hazy mind finally growing aware of your surroundings.

“Shoot! Careful around those, they’re highly flammable!” you warned him swiftly, his gaze snapping to the vials in question, while ours slowly trailed over the utter, utter messthe lab had become.

The sheer amount of broken glass, spilled chemicals, broken pipettes, torn papers and unidentifiable piles of junk was staggering and it was actually a miracle nothing had exploded yet – and as a cherry on top, a few feet away, a relatively small portable PCR machine, the very equipment you had been using, downright murdered along with your experiment and a smudge of blood around it. Jesus.

“Okay, that’s good to know. More the reason to get out,” Captain Rogers remarked, slight amusement lacing his voice, only growing stronger as he continued. “Keep a lot of these around?”

You could have scoffed, but you didn’t. You have no idea, pal.

“My friend is paranoid…” you explained, still staring at them, even as you mentally added ‘or not’, since those little things might have very well saved your life. As your gaze returned to Captain Rogers, your eyes caught on something else, having you sit up straighter in sheer horror. “Is that a stab wound?!”

You gulped at the sight, even as your uninjured hand instinctively reached out towards it – as if you could fix it. The already dark suit, a lovely navy blue, appeared downright black at left his side, right where it seemed to be singed by a flame.

Had that injury been there the whole damn time he had been sitting here with you, eternally patient with your slowed brain, Simmons’ cocktails lying around in one huge chemical dump in risk of exploding any damn minute?

You logically knew the answer had to be yes, but it made zero sense – and his answer made even less sense.

“Bullet, actually. Some sort of chemical damaged the Kevlar lining and they got a lucky hit. It’s just a graze.”

“A gra-“ you choked on the word, spit stuck in your throat causing you to cough and a groan escape past your lips as the sudden rapid movement sent your head pounding again.

“Hey, you-“

“You’ve been shot and you called my cut nasty?” you questioned through the tears, earning a smile worth giving up a career for – painfully warm, kind and… almost fond.

You truly must have hit your head hard.

…as if it hadn’t been evident before.

“I heal fast. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be alright, doc.”

A knee-jerk reaction – again. What was it with him? Had he hit his head, forgetting you had already explained – you had, you hadn’t imagined that, right? – and now he called you a doctor again, turned into a familiar nickname, no less.

“I’m not a doct---- holy shit.”

It slammed into you like a train, struck you like a lightning, even as neither of those things had ever happened to you – yet, you imagined it had to feel like this.

A massive force, a force of nature, realization as bright and as unexpected as a lightning from a clear sky.

Doctor, are you alright?

He had asked that. He had asked that. He had said your words. He had said your goddamn soulmate’s first words to you, what must have been minutes ago, and only now it hit you.

You were left staring at him with wide eyes, myriad of emotions written all over his face, including  slight amusement and what you had earlier inexplicably identified as fondness, because the reason why he was still sitting here with you – though perhaps that was what he always did when rescuing, what did you know, you didn’t, this was your first meeting, that was why he had said the words – was that unlike you, he had realized you were his soulmate right away.

He kept watching you, silently letting you process the crucial revelation, a tight but no less kind smile on his lips.

“You said my words,” you said oh so intelligently. “You--- what… what did I—say?”

It was perhaps the stupidest question of all you could have come up on the spot, but you genuinely couldn’t remember – and wanted to know what words he had been looking at his whole life.

…this part of life? Or before the ice too? How did he feel about that? How did he feel about you? Was he disappointed? He didn’t look like he was, but didn’t even know what you had said—

What you did know and remember was that you were supposed to be smart and yet it had taken you an eternity to even notice you were facing your soulmate you had been probably spewing complete nonsense, you were now stammering like an idiot and for someone who had been worried, always, even if in the back of their mind, if their soulmate would find them good enough, you were generally making a bloody awful first impression.

But seriously, what had been your first words-

“You said you weren’t a doctor yet,” Captain Rogers reminded you, voice soft with affection of someone who had imagined hearing those words at least as many times as you had wondered about yours, hoping they would be pronounced by someone who’d respect you and cared about what kind of person you were, and would hopefully, eventually care for you. Loved you even. The tender way the syllables rolled of his tongue, spoken as if they tasted of honey, nearly chased fresh tears to your eyes. Alright, perhaps your first impression hadn’t been as bad as it appeared in your – albeit injured – head.  “But if you really don’t remember saying that, that’s not a good sign. We need to get you medical attention. Come on. Hold on.”

Blinking slowly, still processing the light and yet suffocating feeling that found residence in your chest as it was starting to truly settle that this man, this painfully beautiful and criminally gentle man, was your soulmate, he was leaning closer to you, his hands guiding yours to wrap around his neck, a wordless order you had obediently followed, and then one of his arms was sliding under your knees and his other wrapping around the middle of your back.

And then your vertigo hit you anew because you were suddenly up in the air, hands gripping hard at anything you could reach – conveniently, the only thing was him, because he had lifted you upin his arms, some of your weight resting against his chest – despite the pain that shot up your left hand.

“Whoa-“ And then, because your memory did serve you at least a little: “You--- have been stabbed.”

“Shot,” he repeated patiently, fondly almost, and you did recall he had said that.

You recalled despite the scent of pleasant aftershave and peak man suddenly enveloping you as much as his arms and the firm armour – or perhaps that was the muscles underneath? And those pretty blue eyes were watching you with a glint of amusement and a surprising amount of affection for a guy saying he had been hit by a bullet, while effortlessly carrying the girl he had just met in his-- very, very strong, muscly arms and perhaps your head was not only spinning because of the sudden height you found yourself at.

…amusement? How was he amused? Was that-- was that a joke? Was he making fun of his bullet wound, playing it down? 

“That’s… really not better.”

He grinned down at you as he made his way to the exit.

Walking. Watching you. Grinning and not even really looking where he was stepping.

Oh no.

Oh no, he was one of those people. You had met men like him at Operations, except for some reason – perhaps some sort of a soulmate telepathy – you had a feeling in him, that the peculiar recklessness many people from suffered, the disregard for their safety, because they could handle it, was dialled up to eleven in him. On a one to five scale. Because scaling mattered; you were a scientist. You’d know.

However, he did make it out of the laboratory without blowing anything up – perhaps at least that recklessness was balanced up by enhanced senses of a supersoldier and indeed, healing fast. And you hoped with your whole heart that walking out unscathed was a conscious effort, be it for him (somehow you doubted that) or for the cargo he was carrying (you had no doubt about that, not when he was looking at you like that). At least he had kept the helmet on; you were thankful for that, even as you’d love to see him without it.

See your soulmate.

You knew what he looked like everyone knew what he looked like. If they had missed the WW II. ed, they could barely miss the news about an alien invasion he had had a hand in stopping, the fall of majority of SHIELD, and other exciting horrifying news.

“I’ll be fine, doc. Now let’s get you away from exploding vials and lab equipment you could knock me out with. I’d rather be safe when I ask you out for dinner.”

You gulped, gripping him a bit tighter as a memory hit you – literally.

The PCR machine. You had done that. You had grabbed it and used it to smash into a HYDRA agent’s face, using the nearest improvised tool of defence. Jesus.

I really did that?

“You… saw that?” was what you asked instead, a few second ticking by as the rest of his words registered in your brain – and god, you really hoped your cognitive abilities would restore soon and the head injury had not caused permanent damage. “Oh.”

As much as your heart started pounding at that, a pleasant somersault in your stomach for a change, it was a little unfair to sort-of ask you when you were in your current predicament. Being carried like that, so close to him, so gentlemanly and tenderly handled despite your weight no doubt straining him, especially since he had been shot – grazed –, yoursenses wrapped in everything that was him and pulling you in, you were fairly certain you might say yes to just about anything he’d ask.

And not just because he was your soulmate.

Your soulmate carrying you in his arms, while wearing a very flattering suit of armour.

“If you’d like, of course,” he added with slight hesitance that only made your heart race further, because he was laying out his own heart for you already, expressive, genuine, and maybe sweetly handsy but not pushy despite his title and rank technically giving him every right to do whatever the hell he wanted. “But either way, I’ll save the real question for when I know you’re not suffering from a concussion. That sounds good?”

“Yes, Captain,” you replied dutifully. It did sound good, his consideration warming you from inside out. His voice sounded good too. “Sounds good to me.”

His smile was bright as the sun itself and basking in its light and warmth felt just as precious. Except he was to be your private sun forever shared with other to a point, but yours. Chosen by fate itself, defying all you had ever believed, beating time by decades, only so you could find each other.

“Looking forward to it, doc. Maybe I’ll get to know your name too while we’ll be at it,” he teased lightly, but without malice. “My name is Steve.”

Steve.

You knew that. You liked that.

Hand trembling a little, but not because you worried he’d drop you as you partly let go of his shoulders, you reached for the clasp on his helmet, a fluttery feeling in your chest eager to indeed see Steve rather than the Captain.

You felt your lips curl up and mirror his when he gave a tiny nod at your brief hesitation, your fingers finally undoing the strap and revealing his face with his help.

His hair was adorably ruffled, a slight shade of dust on his cheeks whispering of where the protective gear had been; but scientifically speaking, as well as speaking directly from heart, he was absolutely beautiful, his tender smile telling you he thought the very same about you.

He was meant to be yours; as you were meant to be his.

And you couldn’t wait to get to know him.

You could tell there were people around you and they were probably staring; but for the moment, you didn’t care at all. You had just met your soulmate.

And you weren’t even a doctor yet.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Steve. But I have to admit…” you said, teasing him with a pause, rewarded by his eyes earning a curious glint, “that the Doc nickname is kinda growing on me.”

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Oh this feels like coming back to my roots 🤭 but hey, this challenge is a revival of all thigs good of the past, so why not go with the good old-fashioned soulmate meet-cute with a little angst beforehand, right?

AND BEHOLD I WROTE SOMETHING SHORTER THAN 10K. SHORTER THAN 8K ACTUALLY! It’s an extravaganza miracle 😂

Also. There might be some unrelated smut in the works, but I will not finish that today so... won't be part of the cum together extravaganza... ah well 🤭

Thank you for reading and potential feedback 💕

May the Fourth be with you and the rest of May be kind ✨

[willowlovesthingsss]

GODDDD

So I saw Anora two days ago and can't get this epilogue out of my head so just imagine this, directly following the end of the movie....

So Igor holds Anora in the car until she stops crying

then finally she gets up and then gets out of the car with a flippant joke about him zipping his dick back in "pervert"

then she takes a few steps back towards the house and then turns back and goes "well? Are you coming?"

So he goes from scrambling to zip up his pants to scrambling out of the car and following her inside

and then they go into the living room and her sister is there w her boyfriend sitting on the couch and shes just like "hey there's some lasagna in the kitchen"

so he follows anora into the kitchen (he'd follow her anywhere) and they get lasagna and they go to join her sister and her bf in the living room to watch the movie and they're cuddled on one side of the 3 seater and anora sits against the other arms so there's space in between but it'd be tight so he sits in the arm chair next to the couch

and they eat their food and are watching and he's super aware of her but definitely NOT looking at her (okay but only from the corner of his eye and she DEFINITELY cannot tell)

at some point she lets out a frustrated sigh and stands up and comes to sit in his lap and cuddles into him

eventually she falls asleep there, with her head curled under his chin, and she stays like that for a long time

he considers asking her sister for a throw blanket but then they get up and go into one of the two bedrooms down the hall

He waits a while longer, just holding her. Shes safe. And she's in his arms.

If you had asked him what he expected from being 30 three days ago, it definitely would not be this. But this, this is so much better.

He stands up and takes her to her room and sets her down in her bed and he moves her hair out of her face and just gazes at her for a second

He moves to leave but she groggily reaches out her arm and says "stay"

so he kicks off his shoes, climbs into bed, and just holds her while they sleep.

and she actually sleeps through the night instead of getting up to work (at some point he woke up to piss and he gently pushed her to ask and she was not pleased about the disruption because she "needs some fuckin rest after the last 48hours")

they wake up the next day at like noon (early for her, late for him)

So they wake up and just look at each other for a moment and then he asks "may I kiss you?" And she says "but I have morning breath" and he says "may I kiss you?" And she says "you have morning breath" and he says "may I kiss you?" And she nods, not breaking eye contact but clearly a little bashful at the vulnerability

and theyre kissing and then they're making out and at some point he pulls away and moves to just hold her and shes like "do you...not want to?"

And he goes "I want to, we just don't have to. I'm happy like this." and he cuddles her closer

and she smiles to herself and hides he face into his chest for a moment

but then she moves to straddle him and goes "what if I want to?" And he goes "whatever you want" in the tone that says 'you can have whatever you want and we never have to do anything you don't want' and seeing the sentiment echoed in his eyes has her kissing him with all she's worth (which a lot in his estimation)

and then theyre getting all hot and heavy and she takes off his shirt and moves to take off his pants

when she realizes he's still wearing his jeans so of course she gives him shit for that (but he wasn't going to climb into her bed in his underwear without her go ahead so he just takes her teasing)

and they laugh together as they keep making out and shedding clothes and then she moves to touch him (like she did in the car, but this time it was about him)

He stops her and he asks if he can do something

and she says sure

so he flips them so she's on her back (she knew he was strong, he threw her around a whole bunch not two days ago, but it was different to have him move her like that....it did it for her honestly)

he moves to go eat her out and she starts to stammer that he doesn't need to do that and he says "what if I want to"

like she said before

and then he goes at it for a nice long time

And he makes her cum

like HARD

and so shes like "I finished," meaning to say 'okay cool now im taken care of so over to fucking so you can get off' (that's just how sex works, right) and hes like "who said i am?"

And then keeps at it, making her orgasm a few more times before he even lets her touch his dick

(she can't even recall the last time a guy she was with got her off)

so she's like on cloud nine when she's finally like "stop stop"

he pulls back IMMEDIATELY and asks if she's okay and if he did something wrong

she says no, she's just over sensitive and then next time she cums she would really like if he was inside her

so then he smiles and moves up her body, kissing her along the way, to get into position

and he kisses her (she loves the taste of herself on him) and then asks if she has a condom

she says she does "but....also....we don't need to use one of you don't want to"

hes very confused

so she gets nervous and starts to ramble about how she always ALWAYS uses protection w clients and she gets tested all the time and knows shes clean (to which he says "me too") and she has an iud but its also totally cool if he wants one because she has been w a lot of partners (bc she assumes he doesn't bc of a judgement for her profession)

meanwhile hes just confused bc it didnt even ocurr to him she may want that

so he asks what she wants and she says no condom (which is kinda the biggest display of trust and intimacy she has bc she is METICULOUS about protection) (even w Ivan who, she was seeing exclusively for what is a long time in her book, she always made him use a condom)

so then they have sex

and he hits a smooth slow wave of a rhythm that really works for her

and he uses one hand to support himself over her and his other to rub her clit

and he just keeps looking at her

and the eye contact and the intimacy are too much and she cums

She cums a lot

and only then does he finally start to lose his rhythm until he's moaning into her neck as he cums

And then he rolls off her and she must be the sappiest bitch in Brooklyn because she misses having him inside her

And then he is just lying next to her breathing heavily for a moment before he quickly gets up and puts on his pants and walks out

and she feels like she must have whiplash bc they were just so intimate (more intimate than she's been with a guy in.... god she doesn't want to think of how long it's been like this)

and he's just gone

like every other guy

maybe this was all just a good fuck to him

Maybe he saw the opportunity to fuck the sex worker, knew it'd be a good time, and now he was done

she's working herself up, even though a whispering voice in the back of her mind kept saying he couldn't have gone far without shoes....or a shirt....or his phone and car keya....

by the time he comes back and shes convinced herself that he was using her and she shouldn't have let him in or trusted him or slept in his arms all night

So she starts to yell at him, which she certainly has a talent for

At first he's confused but he slowly approaches her and sits on the edge of the bed

and he looks down at his hand and then at her, asking for permission

and only then she realizes he came back with a glass of water and a warm damp towel - to clean her up, she realizes as he gently and methodically starts to clean her thighs

she sips at the cool water he handed her as she watches him slowly tend to her

then he sets the towel and glass down (after taking a sip himself... somehow his swallow was a turn on? What is happening to her?)

and he takes is jeans back off and climbs back into the bed and pulls the covers up over them and pulls her to his chest until they both fall back to asleep.

Later he drives her to work at the strip club, kisses her goodbye, and says he'll pick her up later.

As he watches her walk into HQ he can't help but think how much his grandmother is going to love her.

[willowlovesthingsss]

Come Back... Be Here ⭐︎ S.H (masterlist)

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⭐︎chapters

Prologue- Looped Pinkies & Broken Promises Chapter 1 - Back to December Chapter 2- But I knew you Chapter 3- You can hear it in the silence Chapter 4 - Who could stay? You could stay… Epilogue- You lose your way, just take my hand.

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♡ mood board + playlist

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⭐︎warnings

this fic is my first one, so please be nice when i do post the chapters. english isn't my first language. please don't copy my stuff or post it on wattpad or ao3 or anywhere else, i do not allow anyone to use the stuff i write on any ai related platforms. if you end up liking my writing please make sure to like or comment or reblog thank youuu <3

. • ☆ . ° .• °. *₊ ° . ☆ . • ☆ . ° .• °. *₊ ° . ☆ . • ☆ . ° .• . • ☆ . ° .• °. sunshine out