hpotterwhore

[hpotterwhore]

Look At Me

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader One-Shot: SMUT

Request by @daddy-bucky: one bed trope "with a bit (LOTS & LOTS) of breeding kink."

Summary: Bucky gets exposed to a chemical compound that heightens his already above-average sense of smell. Then he's stuck sharing a bed with the girl he's nearly fucked on more than one occasion.

Warnings: profanity, dubcon (noncon? if you look too close?), slight thigh fucking, unprotected sex, somnophilia, heavy breeding kink, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 7.5k

A/N: This one took me a few days because I got a bit of writer's block around the time the smut started. Thanks to @daddy-bucky for this unhinged request, specifically for the part where you requested that he be feral, apologizing but can't stop himself, and for mentioning that he can smell her ovulating. You are unhinged and I love it.

            There are worse things than a mission going sideways. There are worse things than being stuck in a safehouse overnight. There are even worse things than being hunted down by a few thugs from a HYDRA offshoot. But you’re sure that there isn’t anything worse than being shut in with a man that you’ve nearly slept with on more than one occasion.  

            You stand in front of the bathroom mirror, splashing cold water on your face as you try to come up with a way to make it through the night. You’re a four-hour drive away from the compound, and a five-hour drive away from the nearest SHIELD base. The safest option you had was to head to the closest safehouse and tuck in until morning, with a handful of modern-day HYDRA operatives hot on your heels. You start toweling your face dry and running through all of the mistakes that were made today.

            The first mistake was believing that the intel you received about the new HYDRA facility was accurate, without doing the recon yourself. You were told that the facility is empty three days a week, only in operation from Monday through Thursday. That’s why you and Bucky staged your break-in for today, a Friday. Your second mistake was letting Bucky follow you into the lab, instead of having him stay at the door and keep watch. You don’t know what possessed him to take his own look around, to start reading the labels on the various vials located in glass refrigeration units and on benchtops throughout the room. Your third mistake was tucking your gun into your thigh holster while you searched through the lab’s computer, looking for the identification number of one specific compound that you were sent to retrieve. If you hadn’t holstered your gun, you wouldn’t have been caught off guard when a night guard came bursting through the door, pointing his weapon right between your eyes. If you hadn’t holstered your gun, you would’ve been able to shoot the guy yourself. Bucky wouldn’t have shoved you hard enough to send you crashing into one of the little glass refrigeration units in an attempt to get you out of the line of fire, before killing the guy himself. The shot leaving Bucky’s gun didn’t even register in your mind as you watched the glass door shatter and the vials inside shake around on the shelves. As you steadied yourself and shot Bucky an annoyed look, you didn’t notice the vial full of pale pink liquid was the only one that had broken and spilled.

            “Are you okay?” Bucky asked gruffly, grabbing you by the forearm and pulling you away from the broken glass. You nodded quickly, feeling perfectly fine after being seconds away from having either a bullet in your head or shards of glass in your skin.

            “I’m fine, just help me find the vial labeled 012-6A, so we can get out of here.” You double-checked the ID number on the computer screen one last time as Bucky stepped around you and began rifling through the refrigeration unit that you’d just been shoved into.

            Bucky wouldn’t have known that he inhaled enough manganese to cause hyperosmia. He noticed the pink liquid spread over the surface of one of the shelves as he stepped in close and read over the various labels on the vials that were still intact, but he assumed you’d already seen the spill and since you didn’t mention it, it must not have been a big deal. In truth, even if you’d seen it and been able to properly identify it as a manganese compound, you would’ve written it off as being a minor incident. You’d have to be continuously exposed to it, inhaling large quantities of it over time to really be in any sort of major danger. A little sniff in a lab accident wouldn’t send either one of you to the hospital.

            However, one of the known side effects of inhaling manganese is significantly increased olfactory perception, or to put it plainly: a heightened sense of smell. You might be able to smell the cleaners used on the lab floors or the wet dirt stuck in the treads of your tactical boots, if you’d inhaled the manganese. But Bucky, already having a heightened sense of smell from the super soldier serum coursing through his veins, would soon be able to smell everything.

            After finding vial 012-6A, the two of you were tailed from the moment you left the compound until Bucky started weaving in and out of traffic, doing everything he could to shake the tail. You notified Fury and Sam of the situation and within minutes, you had an address to a safehouse and were on your way.

            Bucky carefully folds out the couch bed, watching the thin mattress unfurl before him. It might just be the most uncomfortable looking bed he’s ever seen, but it’s not like he ever sleeps much anyway. You, however, are in for a rough night. Before you went to shower, you found a set of sheets and a quilt tucked away in a closet and set them out. Bucky begins making the bed but something isn’t quite right. As he lays the flat sheet over the fitted one and begins tucking the corners at the foot of the mattress, he starts to wonder why the he can smell the metal springs beneath. The metallic scent is strong, as if he’s pressed his nose right against the springs and inhaled as hard as he could. He stands up straight and sniffs the air, instantly overwhelmed by the plethora of smells circulating in the air. What the hell is going on?

            When you emerge from the bathroom a moment later, you find Bucky standing in the middle of the tiny house, running a hand through his hair and looking a bit bewildered.

            “Bucky?” You call his name softly, slowly crossing the room and eyeing the bed that he’s made up for you both. He keeps his gaze trained on the floor, not even acknowledging your presence. “Bucky, what’s going on?” You try again.

            “Everything smells really strong.” He answers dryly, still not looking up at you. You narrow your eyes at him and start scanning his features, looking for any clues as to what might be going on.

            “What do you mean? Don’t things always smell really strong to you?”

            “Not like this, this is…I can smell your shampoo.” He says. His blue eyes flit up, meeting your gaze and holding it.

            “What did you touch in the lab?” You ask suddenly, already leaping into action. You sit on the side of the couch bed and reach for your bag that sits on the floor, dragging it over to your feet. You rummage around for your laptop, fishing it out as soon as it hits your fingertips.

            “I didn’t touch anything.” Bucky promises, shaking his head. He takes a couple of steps back, away from the bed, as if he can’t stand the smell of your shampoo or whatever else he smells on you. You begin typing quickly, working to open a secure video call line to Bruce Banner. “There was a spill, in that fridge I pushed you into.” He remembers, recalling the liquid that was spread over the shelf.

            “Did you breathe it in?” You cast him a glance over your shoulder as you sit and wait for Bruce to join the video call.

            “No, I mean, I don’t know. There wasn’t an odor, it didn’t feel like I breathed anything in.”

            “What color was it?” You ask, already narrowing down the list of chemicals in your head based on the fact that it was odorless.

            “Pink, clear.” Bucky answers. He’s rubbing the back of his neck as you wrack your brain. Pink, clear, odorless, hyperosmia-inducing. You have a theory, but you need Bruce to confirm. Your shoulders relax as your mind begins to realize that the chances of the chemical having been life-threatening are very low. There aren’t very many chemicals out there that are known to cause hyperosmia, and the ones that do are really only dangerous in large amounts. Bruce’s face appears on your laptop screen and relief washes over you.

            “Hey, I have a few questions for you.” You say kindly, smiling at the scientist that you’ve grown familiar with. Bruce smiles back at you and Bucky catches himself narrowing his eyes and wondering how close the two of you actually are.

            “Shoot.”

            “There was a spill in the lab, Bucky may have inhaled something odorless, a pink aqueous solution. It’s causing hyperosmia, he says he can smell my shampoo from across the room.”

            “More than his usual hyperosmia?” Bruce questions thoughtfully.

            “Yes.” You and Bucky both respond in unison. You look over your shoulder at him again and notice how uneasy he looks, how he’s being sure to keep his distance from you. “I’m thinking it’s some sort of manganese compound.” You guess, turning your attention back to Bruce.

            “You’re probably right. Just be on the lookout for any symptoms that would suggest otherwise, but if it was a small spill and he only inhaled a minimal amount of vapor from it, I wouldn’t be too concerned. The only worry I would have would be not knowing how manganese might react with the serum, but I can do some research on it and let you know what I find.” Bruce pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and crosses his arms over his chest.

            “That’s what I was thinking. We’ll let you know if anything else develops, just send me whatever you find.” After a few more exchanges between the two of you, you end the call and shove your laptop back into your bag. Bucky remains across the room, watching you carefully, like he’s afraid to get too close.

            What you don’t know, is that Bucky can’t just smell your shampoo. He can smell you. Your hair, your skin, your everything. You leave him be and head to the tiny kitchen connected to the living room, in search of a glass of water. Bucky inhales deeply through his mouth, trying to avoid smelling anything, but your scent lingers in the air and it’s suffocating. He’s going to have to sleep in the car just to get away from it.

---

            “Bucky, you’re not sleeping in the damn car and neither am I. There’s a reason we’re stuck in this safehouse, we’re staying put.” Your tone is stern as you stand blocking the door. Bucky sighs heavily. He knows he could easily move you out of his way, but he also knows he’s treading dangerous waters already. The two of you have always had an indescribable tension, a palpable energy between you. One drunken night a month ago, you nearly fucked. You were drunk, he wasn’t, but he might as well have been with the way he lost his self-control when you leaned into him and rested your hands against his abs. The heated makeout session that ensued was electric, with your back pushed up against a wall in whatever bar the team had been hanging out in that night. The only reason you didn’t go through with it was because the grating sound of John Walker’s voice echoed down the dimly lit back hall right before he turned the corner and saw you pushing Bucky away. Only a week after that, Bucky caught you staring him down in the gym, clearly enjoying the sight of him shirtless and sweating as he threw punches at the bag. An hour later he had your lips against his in the elevator, desperately kissing and licking as much of the skin of your jaw and neck as he could before the elevator reached the main living floor. He would’ve taken you right there if the elevator was any slower. The third and final time was a week and a half ago, when, during an undercover mission, you both seemed to have trouble keeping your hands off of each other. Your covers gave you an excuse to be a little handsy, but continuing to be handsy the entire drive back to the compound wasn’t quite so excused. You were so distracted that you didn’t notice the car following you, not until Redwing picked up on it and Sam alerted you both. That was the night you both decided to stop whatever it was that was going on between you. It was dangerous and addictive and it only served as a distraction in the field. So, you stopped it before it ever truly began.

            Bucky moves around to the opposite side of the bed, shooting you a moody look before tugging his shirt off and baring his chest. Your eyes drift down to the dog tags that hang around his neck as he starts pushing his pants down his legs. Suddenly he’s standing there wearing nothing but boxers and dog tags, and your mouth is damn near watering.

            “You’re sleeping in that?” You ask incredulously, gesturing at his distinct lack of clothing. Bucky chuckles and pulls the sheet and quilt back, sliding under the covers with ease. The thin mattress curves down to support his weight and the springs creak loudly.

            “You’re sleeping in that, so you can’t complain.” He mimics your gesture as he refers to your oversized t-shirt and lack of pants. It isn’t your fault. You didn’t have much in your bag, this was never supposed to be an overnight trip. You sigh as you sit on your own side of the bed, turning your back to Bucky. He turns off the lamp beside the couch and the room is cast into darkness.

            While you’re sitting on the side of the bed, reminding yourself why the two of you decided to leave each other alone, Bucky’s lying on his back, breathing through his mouth. He can still smell you. The vanilla scent of your shampoo makes him want to bury his face in your hair and inhale as deeply as he possibly can, it smells so fucking sweet.

            An hour later, you’re sound asleep next to Bucky, with your back facing him and the sound of your soft, steady breathing filling the quiet space. Every single minute that’s gone by since you slid under the covers next to him has be spent actively trying to ignore the smells in the air. First, all he really noticed was your shampoo. After fifteen minutes of lying next to you, he could smell the lotion you put on your legs that morning. Ten minutes later, he was ready to bust down the damn door to get to the car. He could smell you. Something so distinctive, something that was sending his entire body into overdrive with every breath he inhaled.

            Now Bucky lies there, clenching his jaw and covering his face with both hands in an attempt to stifle the scent that he’s trying to pretend isn’t there. He’d have already gotten out of the bed and locked himself in the bathroom, the closet, or even a fucking kitchen cupboard if the bed springs weren’t so damn loud. He can’t make a move that big without waking you up, so he remains frozen. It’s not until Bucky hears you whimper in your sleep that he pulls his hands away from his face and turns his head to look in your direction. Though the scent of your unconscious arousal is affecting him so strongly, the sound you made momentarily redirects some of the bloodflow away from his cock, toward his head. The tone to your whimper was fearful. It escapes your lips again and Bucky watches as you begin to shake beside him. Fuck. Of course you have nightmares. You’re so similar in so many other ways, he should’ve assumed you were plagued the same way that he is.

            As your eyes dart back and forth rapidly beneath your closed eyelids, your breathing quickens more and more until your body begins to feel deprived of oxygen. That’s when you wake up, gasping for air, in full fight-or-flight mode. You’re on your side, grasping the quilt in your left hand and desperately searching the darkness around you for anything familiar.

            Without thinking, Bucky rolls onto his side and slides his vibranium hand over your hip. Though he can’t feel it, your shirt has ridden up above your thighs and his hand lands partially on the waistband of your panties and partially on your skin. You tense at his touch initially, still trying to figure out where the hell you are, but that touch is something familiar. Your mind latches onto it, and suddenly you’re remembering the last three times you felt it. Vibranium against your skin, his lips on yours, every nerve ending in your body firing at the same time. It’s familiar, so familiar that you relax after a couple of seconds and lean back. Your back brushes against his chest and his grip on your hip tightens a barely noticeable amount as he realizes you’re moving. He doesn’t want you to move back too far and find out that he has a full-blown erection while you’re recovering from a nightmare, but he also doesn’t want to stop you from finding comfort.

            “You’re safe.” He whispers close to your ear, taking in the scent of your shampoo once again. His eyes close as the vanilla temporarily covers up the smell that’s been driving him insane for the past hour. “We’re in a safehouse.” He assures you. Your breathing begins to slow and your shaking limbs calm as you move your left hand. You release your grip on the sheets and slide it beneath the covers, running your palm over the crevices of his vibranium hand. So familiar.

            “I’m sorry I woke you.” You apologize softly, taking in a shaky breath and flattening your hand over his metal one.

            “I wasn’t asleep.” Though you know how he operates in the field, how he likes to be kissed, how infuriating he can be when he insists on doing things his way, you don’t know much about his sleeping habits…or lack thereof. Suddenly, the evening’s mission comes flooding back into your mind. You remember him being exposed to something and experiencing hyperosmia, with you and Bruce only being able to speculate about the chemical he inhaled. You make a move to look over your shoulder at him and when you do, your body almost enough to let your ass make contact with his crotch. He squeezes your hip so hard that you almost peel his vibranium fingers off of you.

            “Shit, Bucky.” You speak through clenched teeth as he holds you firmly in place against the mattress. “What are you—”

            “Don’t move.” He groans. The tone of his voice is one you’ve heard once before, when you were licking and sucking the skin along the column of his throat in the elevator that day. Instead of listening to his clear command, you try to wiggle an inch or two away from him, as if that would help the situation, but it only makes Bucky’s problem more obvious. His hard cock is straining against the fabric of his black boxers, and as you move your hips once again, it brushes against your ass and you feel it. You feel it and you freeze. “Fuck.” Another groan leaves his lips and you feel your cheeks heat up. Your nightmare from moments ago is forgotten.

            “Is it…is it from what you inhaled earlier? Tell me what you’re feeling.” The words come tumbling out of you with urgency as you grow more and more worried.

            “Yeah. No. It’s just—fuck.” Bucky swears again, exhaling quickly and then inhaling through his mouth. “You smell so goddamn good, I don’t know what to do with myself.” You’re both silent, so silent that you can hear the way he’s mouth-breathing just so he doesn’t have to overwhelm himself with your scent.

            “Bucky—”

            “You saying my name only makes this worse.” His grip on your hip tightens slightly and you try to keep your own breathing shallow, so you won’t be moving even a centimeter more than necessary.

            “What can I do to help?” You ask quietly. What can you do to help? Bucky bites his lip. Your question is so innocent, so kind, and yet all he can think about is actually letting you do the one thing that would help him right now.

            “Let me sleep in the car.” He sighs. You can tell he’s struggling, you can tell he’s in need, and as much as you hate that he’s in that kind of position, you can’t help but feel a little excited about the fact that he’s in it with you.

            “You know why that’s a stupid idea. What else can I do?” While you’re lying there in front of him, offering your help, Bucky’s squeezing his eyes shut as he remembers the taste of your lips and the skillful way that you ran your hand along his thigh in the car after that one mission, letting your fingertips just barely skim over his bulge. He remembers every fucking detail of the way you kiss and the memories paired with the fact that your ass is still pressed against him make him feel as though all control is slipping away from him.

            “Remind me why I can’t have you.” His request takes you by surprise. It takes a moment for your mind to gather the words that will give him what he wants.

            “We work together.” Three words? That’s all you can come up with? With his cock pressing against your ass, your mind is going on strike.

            “We work together.” Bucky repeats. That’s a shit reason, sure as hell not a good enough reason to get him to let go of your hip.

            “It’d ruin our working relationship.” You try again, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in.

            “It would.” Bucky agrees. Your reasons really aren’t even registering in his mind. He’s loosening his hold on your hip but instead of letting go completely, he starts dragging a vibranium fingertip along the waistband of your panties, almost absentmindedly. Your breath hitches in your throat when his fingertip ghosts over your lower stomach, but he slowly drags it back to your hip. He loves the way your body responds to even the slightest of touches.

            “It could end horribly.” You point out, trying to keep your breathing steady as he continues tracing the waistband of your panties.

            “It could.” He says with a small nod. Bucky doesn’t think as he leans in and presses his lips against the side of your neck. One kiss. One deep inhale. Another kiss. Another deep inhale. You catch yourself arching your back the tiniest bit, pressing your ass against him more.

            “There isn’t a single good reason for us to do this.” It’s the last thing you can think of. Bucky pulls his lips away from your neck and his hand stills on your hip.

            “There isn’t. It would be a pretty bad decision.” He acknowledges. That’s when you feel him adjust his legs and grind into you. “We might end up hating each other.”

            “We can’t have that.” You tsk, biting into your bottom lip after the words leave your mouth. Neither one of you has enough self-control to separate at this point.

            “You can have whatever the fuck you want.”

            The soft whimper that leaves your lips at the undeniably filthy sentence he’s just spoken against your ear makes him grind into you harder. He can’t think straight when you make noises like that, when you smell like you do. Fuck. You don’t say a word, so he slides his vibranium hand down your thigh and wraps it around your knee, hitching your leg back and over his own. Once he has you a little more spread and leaning even more into his space, he grinds against you from the new angle. You feel his erection against your clothed cunt and the already wet fabric between your legs gets a little more soaked.

            “I thought you just agreed that this would ruin our working relationship.” You whine. Please don’t stop, please don’t stop, please don’t stop. Though you sound like you’re being reasonable, your mind is anything but.

            “I’m thinking about ruining something right now.” He grumbles against the side of your neck, nipping at your skin.

            “We can’t do this.” You say firmly, reaching your left hand down to pull his vibranium one away from your leg that’s still hitched over his thigh. When your palm glides over the now warm metal, you can’t seem to push his hand away. Instead, you intertwine your fingers with his and fight to hold in the moans that are threatening to spill from your lips if he keeps grinding against you the way that he is.

            “I know, baby, we can’t.” Bucky groans, rutting into you a little harder and faster, as if he’s trying to get just a little more pleasure out of this before it ends.

            “We can’t.” You repeat. Why your hand lets go of his and moves to reach over your shoulder and tangle in his hair is beyond you. Why you pull him further against your neck, encouraging him to kiss and lick you even more is lost on you. Why you don’t do a damn thing to stop what’s currently happening can only be chalked up to how badly you’ve wanted him to fuck you since the first time you kissed him in that bar. Bucky doesn’t dare to say a single word more. He isn’t going to risk talking a little too much sense into you. So, he starts sucking on your neck, leaving obvious marks as you whimper and moan out those sweet, irresistible little noises that have him wanting to fuck you ten different ways.

            Bucky’s holding onto the tiniest thread of self-control, it’s all he has left, a damn thread. Every single one of his senses is overwhelmed as he grinds himself against your barely clothed body and tastes the skin of your neck.

            “We’re not doing this.” Bucky sounds so resolved, but even as he speaks the claim, he’s pushing your leg off of where it was hitched over his own and guiding you onto your stomach. He doesn’t want you on your stomach, fuck no. He wants you in any position where he can see the faces you make when he buries himself inside of you for the first time, when he starts fucking you the way you’ve needed to be fucked for weeks now, when he cums inside of you. But Bucky knows if he has the privilege of seeing your face through all of that, he won’t ever be able to look at you the same way. He won’t ever be able to go back to working with you in the field. It would ruin your working relationship just like you said. So, he makes sure you’re on your stomach when he starts pushing your shirt up and running his palms along the skin of your back. There isn’t a hint of protest from you as your back arches against his hands and your ass raises up ever so slightly. Even as Bucky begins tugging your panties down your thighs, not a damn word.

            Your scent. Your fucking scent. As soon as he has your panties halfway down your thighs, he knows why he couldn’t resist you. You’re ovulating, and he can smell it, the pheromones, just radiating off of you.

            “Fuck.” Bucky groans headily. He completely abandons his effort to tug your panties any further than your knees as he rolls on top of you and gets his cock in just the right position to slide between your legs. His hard shaft presses against your wet cunt as he lowers himself onto you and lets his length move between your upper thighs. “You’re already so wet, fuck.”

            It only takes a second for you to have Bucky’s entire cock soaked with your arousal, and he hasn’t even been inside you yet. You can’t stop yourself from arching your back and pressing your ass up and into him as he teases you, dragging his length back and forth along your cunt but never giving himself the chance to slide in.

            “Bucky…” His name leaves your lips as a needy moan and you don’t have to say another word. You don’t have to ask him to do it. He braces himself with his forearms on either side of your head, his knees on either side of your legs, and lets you shuffle your own knees until they’re underneath you enough to raise your ass off of the bed. A breathy whimper escapes you as a shiver runs down your spine.

            “If you keep saying my name, I won’t be able to pull out when I need to.” Bucky warns you, just as you feel the head of his cock teasing your entrance. You think he’s about to push in, when he lets his cock slip away from your entrance and run lazily through your folds. He does it repeatedly, letting it rub against your clit over and over again, listening as your breaths come in more and more ragged at the stimulation.

            “Shit, you’re right. You’re not wearing a condom.” You point out in a rare moment of clarity. Bucky chuckles and uses one hand to move your hair away from your neck, before leaning down as pressing a kiss there. You push your forehead into the pillow, muffling the soft moan that you can’t hold back.

            “I’m not wearing a condom.” Bucky repeats, as if he means to say that he wouldn’t wear one even if he happened to have one.

            “You’re not wearing a—” You’re cut off by Bucky thrusting half of his length into you so suddenly and forcefully that the rest of your sentence disappears from your mind entirely and your hands move to grip his wrists beside your head. You dig your nails into him without realizing as your muscles tense and you press your face into the pillow once again.

            “That’s it, get used to it.” Bucky encourages you. It’s such a simple thing to say yet it sounds so filthy coming from him in this moment. It is filthy. He takes a moment for himself, focusing on how tightly your pussy is gripping the first few inches of his cock, how your arousal is basically dripping down his shaft as he lets you adjust to him. That little thread of self-control he was holding onto earlier has frayed more and more and he can’t stop himself from forcing the rest of himself inside of you, until his balls are pressing against you and you’re screaming into the pillow.

            “It’s too much, oh my god, it’s too much.” You moan out as you lift your face from the pillow and rest your chin on it instead. You don’t dare to try and look over your shoulder at him, you can barely move without feeling the sting of his cock stretching your entrance.

            “No, no it’s just an adjustment.” Bucky coos, pressing another kiss to the back of your neck and inhaling the sweet vanilla scent of your hair. “You’re taking it so well already, just relax for me.”

            Your body listens to him. You feel yourself relaxing. First, your hold on his wrists eases until you’re no longer leaving nail marks in his skin. Then, you let out a deep exhale and sink into the mattress beneath him. Bucky’s in awe of you. He knows he’s big, and he knows it’s probably been a while since you’ve slept with anyone with the way work keeps you busy near 24/7. You really are taking him so well. He starts dragging his length out of you slowly, but only a third of the way before he’s pushing it back into you again. The wet sound that results makes him fucking feral. He does it again. Then again. And again. The next thing he knows, he’s holding your hips with your ass up in the air and your face down on your folded forearms as he fucks you so hard that the springs of the couch bed are threatening to snap. With every loud creak of the springs, there’s an equally loud sound of skin smacking against skin. It’s animalistic, the way he’s fucking you.

            “Fuck, I’m so close.” You whimper. You bite into your forearm, surely leaving a mark, as he sets a tortuously pleasuring pace. You can feel him reaching a spot inside you no one has ever reached before and it has your eyes rolling back in your head.

            “I know, fuck.” Bucky says breathlessly. He pounds into you over and over again, chasing his own release as he feels the walls of your pussy fluttering around him. You’re right there and he can tell. “Cum on my cock, so I can pull out and cum all over your fucking back.” He groans, sounding so damn needy. You can’t think straight. You’re definitely not thinking straight. That’s the only reason you say what you say next.

            “No, I’m not cumming if you’re going to pull out.” You say defiantly, actively fighting to hold back your orgasm. Bucky thrusts into you even harder, letting you know that he most definitely likes the sound of not pulling out. He leans down until his chest is pressed against your back and he’s close enough to whisper against your ear.

            “You’re going to make me cum inside you when you’re fucking ovulating?”

            “How do you—”

            “I can fucking smell you.” He rasps against your ear. “Answer me. You really want me to do this?”

            You don’t even take a moment to think about it, not a single moment to consider the possible consequence.

            “Please.”

            It’s only a few hard, deep thrusts later when Bucky’s rhythm grows sloppy and he gives you every single drop of cum he has, fucking it all into you almost recklessly. With every last thrust into your cunt, he’s fully aware that he could be getting you pregnant. He’s fully aware, and yet, he doesn’t have a single fuck to give.

---

            It’s the smell of your arousal mixed with his cum, dripping out of you and into your panties, that wakes Bucky around midnight. It’s only been a couple of hours since he was buried deep inside of you but it feels like it could’ve been days ago with how hard his cock is right now. He reaches beneath the covers, palming his erection through the fabric of his boxers as he listens to your steady breaths. You’re sleeping so soundly beside him, with your back turned to him and the covers pulled up just past your waist.

            A few key thoughts run through Bucky’s head as he lets his hand run along his clothed length. How serious is this to you? Have you wanted him as badly as he’s wanted you since that night in the bar? Is it just physical for you? A surface level attraction that you momentarily gave into because he was horny and shoving his cock against your ass in a shared bed? But you let him cum inside of you, while you’re ovulating. When your body is fully ready and capable of beginning a pregnancy, you let him pump an entire load into you without a hint of hesitation. You didn’t just let him, you said please. Bucky’s suddenly pushing his boxers down his thighs for the second time tonight, wrapping his fist around his length, and rolling over to face you.

            He doesn’t think there’s ever been a better scent than the one emanating from between your legs right now. He can picture the way his cum is swirled together with your arousal right now, probably threatening to soak through the thin fabric of your panties and drip down the soft skin of your thighs until it reaches the bedsheets beneath you. It’s that thought that spurs Bucky on, that makes him tug your panties to the side and press a gentle kiss to the side of your neck as he guides his cock between your legs. The moment he feels the warmth of his own cum from earlier drip from your folds to coat his shaft, he starts mumbling against your skin.

            “I need you.” He whispers into your neck, fighting the urge to bite into your skin as the head of his cock notches inside of you and begins to slide in. “Wake up.”  Your eyes flutter open just as the head of his cock has fully entered you and the rest of his shaft is following. A raspy swear escapes your lips as your back arches and you start to tense up at the sudden intrusion. Bucky’s vibranium hand flies to your hip, stilling you as he continues pushing in.

            “Oh my god.” It’s all you can say as he bottoms out inside you and immediately starts pulling his hips back. He sets a much slower pace than last time, rhythmically fucking you sideways. “I’m sore.” You whimper, turning your head slightly to muffle your moans in your pillow, just like you did earlier.

            “I’m sorry, I know.” Bucky groans against your neck, continuing to thrust in and out of you. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He can’t stop. He can’t make his hips still, he can’t pull out of you and let you recover. He just fucking can’t. He fucks you as gently as he can, using his own cum from earlier as lube. With every slow thrust, your soreness dissipates more and more and pleasure begins to replace it. When he cums inside you the second time, it’s without warning, without one single worry about pulling out. He just does it and expects you to take it…which of course, you do.

---

            You wake up two hours later, with aching thighs and the slightest hint of a burn on your neck from Bucky’s scruff. As you lie there in the darkness, listening to the sound of Bucky breathing softly mere inches behind you, feeling the excessive amount of cum pooling in your panties, you only seem to be able to think about one thing. Both times that he’s fucked you, he did it from behind. You didn’t get to see his face once. Not once did you get to see how he reacted when he felt the walls of your pussy clenching around him, the face he made when you told him you didn’t want him to pull out, or the way his eyes screwed shut and his mouth fell open when he was cumming. You’ve been deprived of it.

            Why does it bother you so much that he hasn’t looked in your eyes either of the two times he’s fucked you? Is he trying to pretend you’re someone else? As tears begin to rim the edges of your eyes, you tell yourself that you’re just being emotional because you’re ovulating. God. You wouldn’t have even known you were ovulating if he hadn’t told you himself.

Truthfully, you’re not even horny. Yet, you find yourself rolling over as quietly as possible, making sure the bed springs don’t creak beneath you. You’re silent as you tug your panties down your legs and toss them onto the floor. You’re even more quiet as you pull the covers back just enough to let you stealthily straddle Bucky’s hips, making sure you don’t touch him yet. Who knew this is what you’d be using all of your professional training for?

            He begins to stir when your fingertips graze over his lower stomach. He draws in a deep breath as you tug his waistband down and free his already hard cock from the confines of his boxers. His eyes are blinking open, studying the sight before him as you wrap your hand around his shaft and stroke it firmly. That’s when he comes to his senses and his gaze lands on your face.

            “Shit.” He breathes out as you sink down onto his length with determination. Your face. He can see your face. The way your features contort as you try to fit all of him in at this new angle is ruining him. This is exactly what he didn’t need to see, so he tries to talk some sense into you. “You’ll be too sore if we do this again, three times is too many.” Bucky says quietly, running his hands up your thighs to grab onto your hips. You’re only an inch from being fully seated on his cock when he holds you still, not letting you slide down any further. He doesn’t want it, you think. What man tries to stop a girl when she’s already sitting on his dick? He just wanted to fuck you in the dark, with your face invisible to him, and then he wanted to be done with you. Tears well up in your eyes a little more and you dare to look down at him. His gaze coasts from where you’re both connected, up the front of your t-shirt, to your face. That’s when he sees the watery layer over your pretty irises.

            “Just let me do this.” You plead, pushing his hands away from your hips and taking in the last inch of his length. Bucky inhales sharply and screws his eyes shut as your tight, wet cunt envelopes his cock completely. He can’t deny you. He can’t deny you, so it’s his turn to fist the sheets as you start moving your hips. You alternate between sliding up and down the entirety of his length and grinding in deep, slow circles when he’s fully sheathed inside you. Even as a tear falls from your face and lands on his bare chest, he doesn’t open his eyes.

            “Fuck, fuck, I’m already so close.” He groans, lifting his hands and covering his face with them. He wants nothing more than to roll you over and fuck you missionary. He wants to rail you into the mattress until its deformed and concaved to fit your body. He wants to pin you down and look into your eyes as he fills you for the third time.

            “Look at me.” You whisper, moving your hips a little faster. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Bucky groans beneath his hands, and reluctantly removes them from his face, resting them on your thighs once more. His eyes focus between your legs again, but after a couple of seconds his lifts his gaze to meet yours.

            “How do you still look so damn pretty after taking my cock the first two times?” He asks with a pained groan. You know he can’t possibly have much to give you after the first two times, but you’ll be damned if you’re not going to take what you can get. You start bouncing on his cock with increasing desperation, chasing your own orgasm. “You even look pretty with tears in your eyes.” He says with a softer tone.

            Right as Bucky nears the edge, you feel his cock twitching, you feel his abs tighten beneath your hands, and you lean down. Your nose brushes against his and for a second, you think about kissing him.

            “You know why I didn’t want to see your face?” He asks, his ability to form a complete sentence surprising even him. He pushes your hair back, cupping your cheeks in his hands as you continue riding his cock. “Because I knew I’d memorize the way you look when you’re stuffed full of my cock, and I didn’t think I’d ever be able to look at you the same way again.”

            “So you were okay with potentially getting me pregnant but not with looking me in the eye?” You ask incredulously, your hips slowing. Bucky groans and thrusts up into you impatiently.

            “Don’t talk about being pregnant, fuck.” He thrusts up again and a smile plays on your lips. His hands move from your face down to your waist as he starts setting a pace.

            “Bucky, you fucked me raw. You came inside me twice. I’m probably halfway to pregnant right now and you’re about to do it all over again. We can’t talk about it?”

            In the blink of an eye, Bucky’s rolling you over, making sure his cock stays inside of you as he lays you on your back and immediately starts thrusting into you.

            “Fine.” He grunts, pushing your thighs up to your chest and draping your legs over his shoulders. He buries himself in you deeper and deeper with every snap of his hips. “I’ll look you in the eye right now while I make sure you’re so full of my cum that there’s no fucking way you aren’t pregnant. Is that what you want?”

            “Fuck yes.” You moan out as he pounds into you. Within seconds, you’re a panting mess on the couch bed and Bucky’s staring down at you with a passionate, determined look in his eye.

            “Look at me when I’m cumming inside you.” He commands. “Look at me when I’m getting you fucking pregnant.”

TAG LIST:

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[hpotterwhore]

when i get the most random urge to start writing again after not writing in.. how long? we’ll see

[hpotterwhore]

I need to get laid. fr fr.

[hpotterwhore]

marriage pact pt.2

summary: the besties are getting used to their new relationship

Warnings: smut, mdni, oral (fem recieving), mentions of dry humping, mentions of implied bi!reader, Stevie's happy trail makes another appearance, public sex?? (not actually penetration), lmk if i missed anything

pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

A/N: thank you to all the people who showed part one so much love, especially everyone who had v unhinged things to say (i love you the most) also i gave us a cool ass, loving mom

part 1

*****

“I’m just saying, we should talk about it eventually.” Steve tells you, unable to conceal the smirk on his face. He stood in the doorway of your bathroom watching you evade questions he threw at you about your past hookups. Essentially he didn’t really care, he was the last person in Hawkins who should have the privilege of caring about who other people hookup with. But he was a little curious, considering your face went up in flames as soon as he brought it up. Also maybe slightly jealous.

You huff at Steve’s persistence, dropping your mascara back into the bag. “Are we going to talk about all the people you’ve hooked up with Steve?” Annoyance laced your tone at his line of questioning, but he knew your annoyance was just poorly concealed embarrassment. 

The two of you were supposed to be getting ready to meet up with Robin, Eddie, Nancy, and Jonathan when he randomly asked you about the past guys you’ve been with. He was already dressed and now he was waiting for you to be, curiously watching your every step. 

“We’ve talked about me for years. Everyone in Hawkins has talked about me.” He laughs, a little self deprecating. “We’ve never talked about you, and we don’t have to.” He’s moving in on you arms, caging you into the counter, shaggy hair sweeping from his forehead. “I’m just curious, not judging you.” Your eyes meet his sincere ones in the mirror, the kicked puppy look he’s been giving you since you were kids working like a charm.

“Billy Hargrove fingered me in our Anatomy class, junior year.” You start, your face red as you shift your eyes, from Steve’s shocked ones. “That was before he..”You trail off not knowing exactly how to word your next thoughts.

“Beat me to a pulp?” Steve offers, with a sardonic grin.

You nod with a sheepish smile. “Sorry.” You really mean it, too. You felt so bad after you saw Steve like that, bruised up by a guy that had been touching you.

“Not judging, remember.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head, and despite the ugly feeling of jealousy sitting in the pit of his stomach he really wanted you to continue.

“I always knew he had a thing for you.” He says, thinking of all the times he’d catch Billy staring at you. He’s pretty sure that’s half the reason he beat his ass. Steve would always have an arm around your shoulder or one of your legs in his lap. 

You go back to distracting yourself as you put your eyeliner on. “And don’t be weird about this later,” You say, which gives him warning to brace himself. “Eddie took my virginity in the back of his van senior year.” You say it so casually that Steve’s sure he didn’t hear you correctly. 

“Eddie?” Steve says, his face wearing his shock. “You mean like Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson?” You slap his arm at that.

“Don’t call him that.” You defend, which Steve rolls his eyes at, knowing Eddie loved the nickname.

“Our friend, Eddie? Who, we happen to be seeing tonight?” Obviously too flabbergasted to remember his no judgment rule, you quickly remind him. 

“I thought this was a judgment free zone.” You murmur, too mortified to even look at him. This brings Steve back to himself.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m just surprised. Didn’t see that coming.” Steve’s hands are on his hips and you know he’s about two seconds from pacing a hole through a floor to wrap his head around it. You can’t help but think he’s adorable for stressing himself out about a question he asked you to answer.

“Yeah we hooked up for a while I guess, but then-” You’re cut off by your own thoughts, sheepish at the thought of your next words until you look at Steve’s puzzled expression. “Then Tommy threw that huge party and you got drunk off your ass and told me we were gonna get married and I just-” You shrug, pretending to be oh so busy with your eyelash curler. “Broke it off with him the next day. Didn’t wanna lead him on, when my head was… elsewhere.” Thinking of you. You tell Steve all this without making a morsel or eye contact. It should really scare Steve how good you are at playing casual with your feelings. 

“Oh, honey.” The kiss he plants on your shoulder is sweet, as he secures his arms around you. “I really love you.” Steve whispers, and it’s not the first time he’s said it, but in this context it is. The words are so much heavier after the shift in dynamic between the two of you.

“I love you too.” Again you say it so unbothered, so naturally, that Steve would think you didn’t mean it if he couldn’t feel the way your pulse quickened. 

“So, after Eddie?” He prods. You take a second like you’re contemplating telling him. 

“If I tell you, you can’t tell Robin.” Steve looks confused but agrees regardless. “You can’t tell anyone.” You reiterate. 

“Okayy, based on what you’ve already told me I’m not sure how it could get worse.” Steve says. “But I’m not judging.’ He adds after his little sentence. 

“Last year, Tammy Thompson, once.” It’s all you say before Steve understands and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. 

“I don’t know you at all.” He states dramatically. 

“In my defense..” you began, “The only reason I didn’t tell you was because like right after I had been talking to Robin and told her that I went to the mall with her and then, she randomly mentioned that she used to have the hugest crush on her. And then she told me that the two of you hooked up before and it was weird. Because I never in a million years thought we would have any overlap.” By the time you’re done with your explanation, Steve is still looking at you in shock.

“You don’t tell me anything.” He lies, unaware of the pout that’s formed on his face.

“I tell you everything important.” You counter. You look like you’re thinking, biting your bottom lip nervously. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal for you.”

Steve is all over you before you can overthink any further, and he’d never tell you but you look like you’re about to launch into tears. “Baby it’s not a big deal… I’m just surprised I didn’t know this about you.” He finally understands some of your hesitancy about opening up about your sex life. You were scared to be judged, by him of all people. 

“That was the shortest list ever, if it was me we would have been standing here for hours.” He jokes, it's another self deprecating jab and it’s one you can’t ignore. 

“Stop doing that. Be nice to yourself.” You scold lightly. 

“It’s true.” You knew Steve was no longer a fan of his own promiscuity. You know that he had some regrets about it, but you couldn’t for the life of you understand why.

“It’s hot.” When the words leave your lips, you find yourself turning around in his arms, tilting your head up to get a better look at him. You meet his eyes, watching the bewildered expression on his face.

“It’s really hot for me, that my boyfriend is more experienced than me. Now.. you can teach me what you know.” You elaborate. Steve’s eyes are watching your lips intently.

“Call me that again.” He requests, his voice gruff. You hold his gaze even though your entire body is on fire from the sudden intensity.

“My boyfriend.” You say softly. The first time you acknowledge him as such. He’s leaning in to kiss you when you duck under his arm, not allowing him to smudge your newly done make up or make you any later than you know you are.

“We’re late.” You remind him, grabbing your shoes. 

“Fucking tease.”

*****

Your night out with Steve and your friends, paled in comparison to waking up to him. He’s holding you tightly against him. No shirt on his chest, per usual. A large hand splayed under your shirt and against your stomach. His heat is almost too much for you and you consider rolling away briefly but that’s the last thing you want. 

Without ever opening your eyes or moving, you flail your legs to kick the blanket off you, only pausing when you hear a throaty chuckle vibrating beneath you. You freeze realizing you’d been caught looking silly.

“You hot?” He asks, ever so attentive. Usually when the two of you slept in bed together, there was a respectful amount of space between you, now your limbs were intertwined and your heart beats synced. 

“Mhm.” You hum, still half sleep. You wouldn’t know it but Steve woke up about thirty minutes before you and he was also feeling like the bed had turned into a sauna overnight, but he’d rather burn to death than wake you up. 

Still groggy from sleep, you whine when Steve removes himself from you to turn on the fan and remove the covers the rest of the way off of you. Much to your relief. 

“I’m gonna go take a shower.” He tells you, letting you know he wasn’t coming back to bed. You were unsure of how he did that. Getting up as soon as he woke up. You were more of a wake up and rot in bed for two more hours kind  of girl.

You hadn’t realized, you’d drifted back off to sleep until Steve’s waking you up. “Wanna get up for me, so we can spend some time together?” He offers.

“We could go play basketball at the gym.” He tries again when you don’t budge. This has you perking up slightly. For a reason unknown to him, every time, even in high school, if he mentioned anything to do with basketball you would be there. At first he thought you wanted to play, especially since you proved yourself to be useful on the court, but when he mentioned it to you, you looked disturbed at the idea. 

You’re rolling out of bed without answering, but he knows that is your answer and you’re just adjusting to the morning again. So he goes on making sure to cook you a good breakfast. 

When you finally emerge from the bathroom, freshly showered you find Steve behind the stove looking very boyfriendish. You can’t help circling your arms around his waist as you inhale his scent.

“Morning’” There’s soft music playing from his phone but other than that the house is quiet. 

“Good Morning. Baby.” You grin into his shoulder, feeling oddly domestic..

After eating breakfast with Steve, you made your way to the gym. You’re stopped a million times because this is Hawkins and everyone knows Steve, the once golden boy basketball star, and you who graduated top of your class with a long list of extracurriculars. But most people still only referred to you when speaking about Steve and that was okay with you.

Playing with Steve is never actually about winning for you. The win is seeing Steve like this. Sweaty. In his zone. So fucking focused. You were competitive everywhere else, but on the basketball court, you were all about Steve. He played less now that you were older, so when he offered you couldn’t help but jump at the chance.

You’re barely paying attention to the game because Steve is everywhere. You’re losing really badly even though he’s taking it easy on you. You don’t care.

“Where’s your mind at, honey?” He asks, dribbling the ball he just stole from you and shooting it. You pretend to be frustrated, pretend like you actually care if you lose, like you’re actually giving your best. Steve knows better, but he doesn’t push it, figuring you were just tired still. 

When a group of guys Steve played basketball with came into the gym, begging ‘king’ steve to join a game with them, Steve almost declined until you made some comment about being tired and going to sit on the bleachers for a break.

You knew the real show was about to start, and that he’d love a chance to show the guys from high school how he’s still got it. Steve’s gearing all the way up when they start picking teams, and you know based on the line up it’s going to be an aggressive game.

You’re dazed while you watch him play for the next hour. He’s concentrating hard, yelling out an instruction to his other teammates, in charge, sweating so hard that he keeps lifting up his shirt to wipe sweat off his forehead and revealing that happy trail. Your composure is crumbling quickly. 

And you don’t realize the way you’re looking at him even though you know you’re thirsting hard. He sees though. About halfway through the game when he’s checking on you during a time out. You give him your water bottle to drink out of even though you hate sharing germs, run your fingers through his sweaty hair, and give him two kisses despite the fact that he knows he tastes like sweat, and that you have an audience. 

After that he realizes how hard you’re watching him and he knows he has to show out for the end of the game. Everytime he glances at you, you look so invested. Like you used to in high school when you suddenly became interested in basketball again after a long hiatus during your pre teen years. Except now there’s a new detail that Steve has noticed. You’re squeezing your thighs together so hard, he thinks you’re about to burst. He can’t help but wonder how long you’ve been that way and if that was the reason you’re so intrigued with basketball, with no interest in playing. 

Steve made sure to win. Made sure he earned every filthy thing he was going to do to you. When he walks up to you, you don’t realize that you’ve been caught. Not when he’s dragging you behind him, not even when he opens the door to the men’s locker room, ushering you inside. It’s when he locks the door with you against it that your brain finally kickstarts into realizing what’s happening. 

“Steve we’re gonna get caught-” You start but your voice is lodged in your throat when his fingers dip into your shorts. You know what he finds when he does, and if you didn’t the smirk on his face would have told you. 

“All this from watching me play, honey.” The condescending lilt to his voice, has your brain turning to mush in the best way. That mixed with the way he’s running his knuckles over your  folds. 

“Steve”  You try again, more firm when you hear voices passing from outside the door, but your voice just turns into a whimper, as you try to cope with the way he’s touching you. 

“Shut up for me, so I can focus.” He shushes, yanking your shorts down. You gasp when he does so, but step out of them nonetheless when he gestures for you to do so. This is his first time touching you like this since you dry humped him for all he was worth in the family video parking lot and you’re curious about where he’s going with this. 

He grabs your panties, balling them up in his hand before coming back up to you. “Open your mouth.” You do without a second thought, letting him stuff the underwear into your mouth.

“Fuck you’re a good girl.” He notes before dropping to his knees. “Prettiest pussy, I’ve ever seen.” And he’s not talking to you really but to your pussy. He throws one of your legs over his shoulder before going in, licking and slurping at you like a starved man.

You’re pretty sure it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. He’s so sloppy about it and you love every second.

When he leans down a bit to fuck your hole open with his tongue, his nose nudges your clit. Your moans and whimpers are concealed by the makeshift gag, but the way your hand flys to Steve’s hair to hold him in place lets him know exactly the effect he’s having on you.

He chuckles when he feels you clenching up on his tongue, already so close and he’s just barely touched you. He presses you deeper into the door when he feels your knees buckling, moaning into your cunt at the feeling of you tugging his hair. 

Steve wishes he didn’t need you to be quiet. He wishes he could hear every single one of your whimpers and moans. Hear you calling him ‘Stevie’ in that whiny little voice, but he also knows he doesn’t want anyone else to hear you. Not when you’re all his.

You tumble over the edge pretty quickly, tears cascading down your face, which is the first thing Steve sees when he stands back up, licking his lips. He’s rubbing your overstimulated clit, when he pulls the damp panties out your mouth, releasing all the built up sounds from you. 

“Aw, honey.” He coos, wiping away the tears with your panties. He’s fucking filthy. He kisses you after that, so tenderly that you almost forget how he’s toying with you.

“Stevie..” There it is. Steve thinks to himself. He kisses you again trying to hush your moans.

“You like watching me play, sweetheart? That turns you on?” He asks, still massaging your clit.

“So much.” You admit. Steve wants to laugh at how gone you are, but he’s affected just as much as you.

“Not very nice, that you didn’t tell me.” He says. 

“M’sorry, Stevie.” You’re getting too loud and Steve has to shush you as he hears voices in the hallway, suddenly remembering where you are.

“It’s okay baby, you gonna cum for me?” As soon as he suggests it, he knows it's coming and his lips are back on yours, silencing your moans.

******

“Dude, why are you staring at me?”  Steve asks you, his face red. You stared at him all the way home from the gym. You stared at him when you got home and it had been an hour later, both of you showered and supposed to watch a movie, and you were still staring. 

“I just think you’re kinda rude.” You say.

“I’m rude?” Steve asks, flabbergasted wondering what he could have possibly done in such a short period of time. His mouth hanging open.

‘“Yes because I have had, I want to say maybe like three- four orgasms with other people, in the span of multiple years and you’re telling me this whole time you knew how to do that twice in the span of not even like ten minutes.” Steve’s once red face was now taken over by a cocky grin. 

“Like dude. How did you do that? I’ve never done that before.” You can’t even bring yourself to care that you’re inflating his huge ego. You’re genuinely confused and you’re thinking it has to be witchcraft.

“It’s easy when you’re that turned on.” He tells you, but you shake your head.

“I’m always that turned on.” You dismiss, making him laugh at how genuine you sound when you say it. 

“Always?” He asked, to which you nod. 

“You walk around here shirtless every morning. Of course I am.” You say simply, and Steve can’t help but be surprised at your sudden frankness.  “And even then I can’t even make myself cum twice. Especially not that fast.”

“So, let me get this right.” Steve starts with a mischievous grin. “You’re saying when you play with yourself, after seeing me shirtless you can’t make yourself cum twice?” He’s teasing you for your slip up and you know it. You can’t help rolling your eyes.

“That’s what I said, Steven.” You say playfully, your eyes narrowed. 

His eyes narrow back at you before he’s tackling you to the couch, tickling you. Laughing at your shrieks, and the sight of you trying to wriggle away from him.

“I’m sorry!” You let out in between gasps for air and laughter. When Steve finally lets up you pinch him for being unfair. 

When you finally catch your breath, you realize Steve is staring at you with a look that can only be described as adoring. 

“Here you go, again.” You say with pretend exasperation, and shaking your head. You’re only teasing him, so that you yourself don’t turn into a pile of mush like always. Steve rolls his eyes at you, realizing just how much he’s missed your banter, these last couple days. You’d gone shy on him, when getting used to the changes in your relationship and he was glad to see that your sass was back in full swing.

“Come give me a kiss.” He insists, gesturing to his lap. 

“Why are you always trying to get me into your lap?’ You ask before settling down on top of him anyway. Nothing sexual about it, as you press a quick kiss to Steve’s lips before trying to move again. 

“I like you here.” He says before pulling you back down on top of him to get another one. “If that’s how you rush touching yourself, no wonder you can’t make yourself cum.” He jabs, even though that’s not what you said. 

You’re about to respond, when you hear someone clear their throat. “Mom!” you yelp in surprise, practically flying off of Steve’s lap.

“Well this is an interesting way to be welcomed home.” Your mom looks almost amused at the display in front of her. The other part is as shocked as you feel, knowing she was home way earlier than she was supposed to be.

“How long were you standing there?” You ask, mortified, You’re seconds away from having the worst meltdown of your life. 

“Long enough to know that you should invest in a vibrator. “ She goads, sending Steve a look. He’s redder than a tomato, knowing that the woman who’s known him since before he was ten heard him say that. 

Your mom is way chiller than she should be, considering the circumstances, but she’s always been that way. Unbothered and entertained.  If that was your dad standing there, you both know this would be an entirely different story. 

‘Oh my goodness. Kill me now.” You mutter dramatically.

“No need for theatrics. I knew last week when you came home with that hickey on your neck. You didn’t even bother to try to cover it up either. Where’s the respect?” She jokes , as you hide your face behind your hands at your carelessness. 

You’re sure that life cannot get much worse than this.

“Good for you guys. But no and I mean it..” she started seriously “no funny business at all, on my couch.” When you groan she doubles downs. “I’m serious that couch was expensive.”

“Okay mom, we got it, thank you.” You say pulling Steve up from the couch and towards your room, too mortified to make eye contact with her.

Once you and Steve make it to your room both of your horrified faces meet… and you’re doubling over in deranged laughter. 

*****

tags: @smilesworldsposts @livsters @ali-r3n @em-guitar-pick @wolflover1005 @lexingtoon @eds1986

p.s. some of these didn't work and idk why

[hpotterwhore]

I HAVÉ SO MANY ummm

1. ellie williams (tlou)

2. caroline forbes (tvdu)

3. peter parker (tasm + mcu)

4. hope mikaelson (tvdu)

5. bucky barnes (mcu)

THESE R NOT IN ORDER I LOVE ALMOST ALL OF THEME EQUALLY

tags :) @ptergwen @acosmis-t @elliewlums @scarleart @exilelines

comfort character tag

tagged by @multifandomlover121 ❤️

rules: list five comfort characters then tag five people

1. Pietro Maximoff (MCU)

2. Jody Jackson (The Dumping Ground)

3. Remus Lupin (Harry Potter)

4. Malia Tate (Teen Wolf)

5. Frank Castle (The Punisher)

Bonus + Robbie Jennings from Angus, Thongs, and Perfect Snogging

Tagging: (no pressure!) @pad-foots @ds-umbrella-manufacturing-co @cescalr @nbvethbrenatto @gracelesslady23 + anyone who wants to do it!

[hpotterwhore]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝟓𝐊 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐍 | 𝐍𝐀𝐕 | 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 | 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎 | 𝐈𝐍𝐁𝐎𝐗

thank you so much for 5k i honestly cant thank you enough, i feel so attached to my blog and everyone that has supported me even if i didnt post something that day, all my moots are so sweet and caring and it really feels like one big happy family . thank you to whoever has reblogged, followed, liked, commented pm’d me, and sent things into my inbox im truly thankful for all of you <3

since my love life is lowkey popping rn yall already know this is gonna be love themed

make sure you add characters! and if you need examples look at the ones i have on this celebration | send as many as you want just one per ask! everyone is free to send stuff in

starts feb 27th — ends march 27th

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 🕯️— SMUT! send this with a smutty concept/scenario + an au! and i’ll write a blurb for it!

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐈𝐕𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐈𝐌 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 🪷 — FLUFF! send this with a fluffy concept/scenario + an au! and i’ll write blurb for it!

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐑𝐄 🩹 — ANGSTY! send this with an angsty concept/scenario + an au! and i’ll write a blurb for it!

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄, 𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐓 🧴— DARK! send this with a dark concept/scenario + an au! and i’ll write a blurb for it!

𝐇𝐄𝐘, 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑, 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 🎧 — ANON AND NON ANON! send this OFF ANON and i’ll make a moodboard and give a song that makes me think of your blog | send this ON ANON and tell me about yourself and i’ll give a song and a character that i think fits you!

𝐖𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐍𝐎 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 🫖 — GAMES! send this in with cym or fmk

[hpotterwhore]

call it what you want.

masterlist

pairing - remus lupin x fem!reader

summary - part two of the social media concoction i came up with. it gets pretty tooth-rottingly fluffy in some parts but this wouldn't be a fic of mine if it weren't for the tooth-rooting fluff.

trope/tags - band/celeb!au, instagram/social media!au, modern!au, fluff, terrible humour

word count - 993

warnings - language

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

yourusername added to their story

rjlupin

❤ liked by mmmckinnon, vance_emm, xeno_lovegood and 1,930,392 others

rjlupin never felt more appreciated

tagged yourusername

29,067 comments

yourusername did you like it?

rjlupin it was so good i almost vomited

starmanblack i'm still mad bc we didn't make the furry one 😐

rjlupin you took part in this? starmanblack IT'S Y/N'S FAULT

pete__ why does it look like it was written with ummmm 👀👀

yourusername what if it was? 😳 bartyyy WHOSE yourusername fym whose? it's just white icing 🤨

lily_evans kids these days

yourusername weren't you the one who suggested to write "deez nuts" on it? prongsyboy you just got exposed for having bad humour lily_evans we're breaking up

user3835292 LMFAOO

user7382380 this is what i call poetry

yourusername

❤ liked by pandorasbox, bartyyy, prongsyboy and 1,999,738 others

yourusername the cutest

22,044 comments

rjlupin i miss you two

yourusername awwee we miss you too

lily_evans CUTEST BOY EVER

prongsyboy what about me? lily_evans you're of your own sort

r.a.black cats are superior

yourusername is that why the only posts of mine you ever interact with are the ones of my cats? r.a.black correct

user709990 WHERE'S TAYLOR?

yourusername she was napping in the kitchen 😭😭 user709990 HSHDJAHDJQNSNQNDNWB

user020994 everybody's favourite cat

user372838 REMUS' COMMENT??????

user139299 IS THAT REMUS' SWEATER?

user300011 THE SWEATER HELLO??????

yourusername

❤ liked by lily_evans, ev.rosier, marymacdonald and 1,999,738 others

yourusername can't believe i spent the whole day with this idiot

tagged rjlupin

22,044 comments

starmanblack i would literally rather die

rjlupin love you too sirius

casmeadowes write us some music please 🙏🙏 i'm craving for a new album

mmmckinnon soon soon soon

maraudersofficial wow and you rejected my offer to go watch puss in boots 🙄 so rude

yourusername sorry james but remus was being a baby and i didn't want him to cry rjlupin i'm gonna sue you for slander

user372838 you two have been spending lots of time together lately 🤨

user020994 HEIQJAJ WHEN IS IT MY TURN TO BE HAPPY

user709990 i'm sleeping on the highway tonight

user139299 wake me up when they start dating bc i can't put up with this no longer

user82111 NAH BUT THEY'RE BEING OBVIOUS

rjlupin

❤ liked by yourusername, r.a.black, lily_evans and 2,188,033 others

rjlupin i think y/n loves her cats more than me

tagged yourusername

23,901 likes

yourusername suck it up

rjlupin where's the empathy you were on about? yourusername i left it at home

r.a.black cats>people

yourusername exactly reggie

marymacdonald i love you equally if that helps

rjlupin thank you mary

user738881 OFC SHE DOES IT'S CATS

user272771 i can love you more than my cat

user323276 but cats remus

user001231 CAN SOMEONE BE THE Y/N TO MY REMUS I WANT THIS FRIENDSHIP SO BAD

user734444 bro u mad delusional if u think this is friendship 💀 user001231 are you volunteering?

yourusername

❤ liked by pete__, prongsyboy, starmanblack and 2,022,704 others

yourusername moonlight out may 15 🤍

37,898 comments

rjlupin when can i preorder?

yourusername very soon my love

prongsyboy feeling excited

starmanblack something tells me it's gonna be your best one to date

yourusername egomaniac

user738277 OH MY HOD IT'S HAPOENING

user229994 HOLY FCJING SHIT THERES JO WAYQUDBQHDHQHDNQJDBBW

user737470 DID SHE JUST CALL REMUS "MY LOVE"?????

user829384 THE NAME??? MOONLIGHT? REMUS? MOONY? IS THIS PR? IT BETTER NOT BE PR

user300111 I'M SOBBING SHDJAJXNSBS

user383838 TAKE MY MONEY

user001213 PLS TELL ME THERE'S A COLLAB ALL 4 MARAUDERS LIKED THE PHOTO

user030390 STFU LET'S NOT CLOWN AGAIN

celeb_gossip

❤ liked by yourusername, rjlupin and 56,086 others

celeb_gossip rumour has it that rjlupin and yourusername have been in a happy relationship since summer '21. the two young stars have been spotted together once again! they must really enjoy spending time together, as they've been captured on several occasions since their friendship has become public and their interactions don't exactly seem "platonic", if you get what we mean 😉 despite of these obvious receipts, many are skeptical and think the relationship is purely just another pr stunt, especially since yourusername just announced her new album that is very likely to involve a collaboration with maraudersofficial 🤔 what do you guys think? 👀 let us know in the comments 😘

7,770 comments

user556464 i think you should leave them tf alone <3

user182828 tea pages are so weird like get a life bro

user262626 I KNEW IT

user677747 omgg i hope it's true i've been shipping these two for so long

user555668 y'all ever heard of privacy? 🤨

user075222 WHAT.

user333933 you can't even tell who it is 😭

user086443 GUYS THEY LIKED THE POST SJOQHYIQHSJ

user285551 WHAT TGE HELL

user124000 LMFAO NOT THEM BOTH LIKING IT

rjlupin

❤ liked by vance_emm, starmanblack, casmeadowes and 2,798,929 others

rjlupin it was in fact never pr

tagged yourusername

42,990 comments

yourusername can't believe someone would even think that

rjlupin maybe we weren't lovey dovey enough

yourusername we should step up our game

rjlupin wanna kiss in the rain?

yourusername you don't even have to ask

mmmckinnon i knew HEHEHEHEHE

lily_evans AWWWWW

bartyyy about time

pandorasbox CUTIES

starmanblack not the tea page being right

user003021 WAIT A DAMN MINUTE

user285554 IT WASN'T PR IT WASN'T PR AHSHAHSHAHSNABS

user222399 HOW LONG HAVE YOU TWO BEEN PLAYING WITH US 😭😭

user356456 MY PARENTS DJQJDJQJSQ

user422222 OH NY JEUSUSUSHDQUXHHQS

user532111 FIQODI1USH IS THIS FOR REAL

user106626 IM LIETRALU CRUING

yourusername

❤ liked by lily_evans, xeno_lovegood, ev.rosier and 2,782,53 others

yourusername i love my silly little boyfriend

tagged rjlupin

39,843 comments

rjlupin i love you too

yourusername it will unfortunately not pass rjlupin *fortunately

marymacdonald YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTE EHEHEH

mmmckinnon i knew about them long before all of you TAKE THAT

r.a.black isn't he taller than you lolol

starmanblack REG SHUT UP LET THEM BE CUTE

vance_emm so happy for you two ❤

user002931 IM SHITTING TEARS

user362678 ok now marry him

user777771 MY PRAYERS HAVE WORKED AT LAST

user322256 i feel like world peace has been restored

user988211 whatever you do, don't break up

user300102 SOULMATES

rjlupin added to their story

tagging moots again :D

@littlemissscarlettwitch @innerloverpainter @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @withastrangerheart @forourmoons @forsiriussake @sw34terw34ther @nyxxxxxxxx @laluna0 @incorrectwolfstar

[hpotterwhore]

can i pls request remus being jealous and (non-toxically lol) possessive when seeing reader with someone else 🫣

Hello!!! I'm so sorry this took so long to get out, this week has been completely out of control for some reason. But here it is! I hope you enjoy! Thank you for requesting. My ask box is open.

Wc: 1k

Cw: It's just fluff, a few swear words

He was already having a bad day, the full moon looming close, only two days away. His day started at 5:30, with James throwing around his quidditch equipment, claiming he was late for his daily training. Then when he finally managed to fall back asleep, he didn't hear his alarm go off, making him late for potions, his least favourite subject. Thankfully Slughorn didn't give him a hard time, unlike Snape, who had made fun of his brewing abilities. And no matter how much Lily had helped him to finish and pass the assignment, his mood hadn't improved; it actually soured, thinking he was useless at potions kept distracting him from his other classes. So when lunchtime came, he was in an even worst mood than before.

Remus sits next to Sirius, who is excitedly talking with James, Marlene and Peter. He pinches his nose, feeling a headache growing at his temples. His eyes open to see his girlfriend talking with Adam, a Ravenclaw he is sure has had a crush on the sweet girl since first year. His brow furrows as he watches the boy touch her arm in what appears to be more than a friendly gesture.

He stands up, ready to stomp his way over there and give the blonde boy a piece of his mind. Before he can take a step, James' voice interrupts him.

"Where are you going, Moony?"

The curly-haired boy turns around to see where his friend's eyes were directed.

"Moons," James turns back to him "You're going to be upset if you go over there and cause a scene."

"No, I'm not."

"The full moon is in two days." James gives him a knowing look that makes him sit back down. Remus knows that in the days before the full moon, he becomes irritable and explosive when pushed.

"I hate that guy." His eyes roll as an unpleasant look forms on his face. "He is always all over her, and she is too fucking nice to tell him to sod off."

"I know." James' voice is gentle in understanding. "If it makes you feel better, I'll knock off his broom next week when we play against Ravenclaw." A mischievous smile forms on his face.

Remus can't help his own smile at his friend's attempt at making him feel better; and at the image of Adam falling off his broom too.

"Sure, just make it look like an accident."

"I'm the best at making things seem like accidents." The boy gives him a wink before he takes a sip of his juice.

His eyes divert back to the pair, who are still talking by the entrance of the Great Hall. Remus' patience seems to wear out even faster when he sees the stiffness of her body. She's still smiling, but as time goes on, it seems more forced; she keeps moving her body to the Gryffindor table, clearly trying to end the conversation. But as the blonde keeps talking, she returns to her previous place just to do this awkward dance again. Deciding he's had enough, Remus gets up and stomps to them.

"Hey, love." His voice is sweet, unlike his eyes that send a murderous glance to Adam.

"Remus!" She turns to him, a smile plastered on her face. She opens her arms and hugs his neck, pulling him down to her height. "Get me out of here." She whispers in his ear.

Remus breaks the hug and smiles down at her as he tucks a rouge strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yes, hello, Remus." Says Adam through tight lips.

"Yes. Hi. I'm going to take my girlfriend away now, goodbye." He quickly turns on his heels, pulling her with him.

"Remus! That was rude!" She chastises him in a low voice when they are far away from the boy who is standing in his spot, mouth agape.

"I don't care." He grunts. "Come on, I know you're hungry. I saved you a spot." He turns to her with a smile.

With a sigh and shake of her head, they arrive at the table. Remus pulls out her chair so she can sit and then takes his own sit.

"Stop being cute, I'm trying to be upset with you."

"I'm not being cute, I'm just trying to take care of you." He grabs her hand and kisses it, making her grunt and hide her face with her other hand.

"This is being cute, Lupin." Accusing eyes stare at him. "You were rude to Adam."

"The bastard was making you uncomfortable."

"He wasn't making me uncomfortable."

"He wasn't letting you leave." He says in a knowing voice.

"Okay, he wasn't." She concedes. "But, he was just being friendly." Her statement is met with a snort and a roll of Remus' eyes. "You're just jealous."

"I am." He says easily as he leans on her shoulder, letting his nose tangle in her hair. "You'd be jealous too if you had the most amazing woman all to yourself." She giggles, making him smile.

"I have the most amazing guy, though." Her hand finds the back of his head.

"I'm sorry I was mean, I get possessive sometimes." His soft voice reaches her ears.

"I like how possessive you are, but maybe next time be a little bit nicer." He takes a deep breath, inhaling her scent, allowing it to calm him.

"I'll try when it's not so close to the full moon." He pulls back just enough to kiss her lips.

"Are you guys going to eat each other instead of the food, or what?" Sirius' voice makes them pull apart.

"Shut up, pads. They're having a moment." James interrupts his teasing, making her laugh. Everything seems to be better now, maybe he just needed her to turn his bad day good.

[hpotterwhore]

would you ever consider writing poly!marauders? or even more of the luna reader with platonic (or romantic) marauders?

if u have more poly!m requests please send them (to clarify this is romantic) fem!reader tw cut

"You should be more careful," Remus says, "really, dove." 

You lean back against the kitchen counter and try not to wince as he finishes with the dressing on your arm. 

"I am careful," you say. 

He laughs softly. It's a rare sound, kind that has you smiling immediately. You wrap your arms around his neck, careful not to press down on your injury, and kiss his neck quickly. 

"Thanks for fixing me, handsome," you say. 

Remus pats your back. "That's never something you have to thank me for… You might like me less when the boys come home." 

You pull away. "You texted them?" you ask, already resigned to your fate. 

He looks gorgeous even when you're mad at him, pale skinned but dark in his way, dark eyes and dark brows and his amazingly handsome nose that makes you wanna lean over and kiss him. 

"Afraid so." Remus squeezes a path up your arm to your shoulder. "You know the lashing they'd give me if I didn't." 

"Well," you murmur, "I suppose you did patch me up." 

He kissed your forehead as the sound of the front door opening echoes down the hall. "That's the spirit." 

"Angel?" 

You relax. It's James, which means you aren't in for a loving telling off, just a loving. You stay by Remus' side until James is in view, a shock of green rugby uniform stark against brown skin. He sheds his bag and you practically throw yourself into his open arms, 'cause usually that's exactly what he wants. 

"Wait wait wait!" he says, holding out his hand, his wrist brace scratchy against your arm. "Don't hurt yourself worse! What happened?" 

You fight him, trying to hug him and laughing when he holds you back like you're nothing. He's strong. "James, come on. I cut it on the garden fence." 

He makes a sound like he feels super sorry for you and finally lets you hug him, your face in his solid chest, your hands at the small of his back. You settle in for as long as you want, James and you both suckers for a good hug, and sigh as his cheek kisses the top of your head. 

"You okay, Moons? You look tired." James voice rumbles through your hear, low and warm. 

"Fine. She just shocked me, running in the house with blood dripping down to her elbow." 

"Give us a hug." 

"I'll make tea." 

James turns his lips to your forehead, "How come he'll hug me when we're alone, and he'll hug you all day long when you're together, but he's totally allergic to affection when we're together?" 

"He's shy," you mumble, "ask him again in an hour and he'll say yes." 

The door opens a second time and you'd hide your face pretty much in James' armpit, laughing through the horror. "Hide me." 

"No, I don't think so." 

James works your face away from his chest, hands held over the soft slopes of your shoulders. He looks you in the eye, all melty brown and sweetness. "Sure you're okay?" he asks. 

You hum. He kisses your cheek. 

"Okay, I'm gonna go harass Remus for a hug then, before he boils the kettle and threatens me with a scalding. Love you." 

"I don't love you, you're leaving me for the wolves." 

"I'm hardly a wolf," comes Sirius' amused drawl. 

James raises his eyebrows at you in a silent gesture for Good luck, angel, and disappears around the corner to the kitchen. 

You sigh and spin on your heel, finding your arch nemesis (concerned boyfriend) propped against the wall. He's in casual work attire, which for Sirius is a smart pair of trousers and a dark button down with the sleeves rolled up. His tan seems to have waned in the winter, leaving him pale. Though he often claims in a joking manner that it's a consequence of loving you, he's always so worried it steals the colour from his skin. 

I like to worry, he'd assured you once. 

"You might not believe me, but you look very handsome today," you say. 

He raises a dark brow. "You say that every day." 

"Emphasis on 'very,'" you say. 

He pulls his weight off of the wall and holds out his hand as he approaches. You let him take your arm, let him assess the small dressing bandage Remus has applied over your cut. 

"It was deep," you admit, "but not very long." 

"Mm, Remus said," Sirius says, near murmuring as his thumb works into your wrist. He rubs over unbroken skin gently. "Does it hurt?" 

You shake your head vehemently. 

"Swear?" 

"Why would I lie?" you ask. You smile at him. "You really do look handsome. And you didn't need to come home from work." 

"It's my lunch break." 

"Oh, good! Let me make you something, while everybody's home." 

"Or I can make you something," he suggests. 

You enter into a stare off. He faces you with little expression, a blank slate. A pretty blank slate. His lashes don't so much as flicker, while you struggle to keep a straight face under so much seriousness. Your lips twitch with a laugh and something about it must break him, because he takes your face into his two hands and presses your noses together. 

"You make it very hard to be sensible about things," he says, and gives you a chaste kiss. 

His lips are a warmth you savour, and he steals them back much too swiftly for your liking. 

"Remus is the sensible one," you deny. "You're the overprotective one. And James is… James." You sigh, lovelorn. "And I'm the stupid one who cuts herself on chicken wire. You really didn't have to come home." 

"I wanted to." 

He leads you by the hand into the kitchen, where James and Remus stand in front of an unboiled kettle, Remus face smushed into James broad shoulder, a muscled arm locking him into place. He looks quite happy. 

"Sorry, I'm still making tea," he says into James' sleeve.

"No, I'm gonna make dinner," you say, yanking Sirius to the lovefest. 

You worm under James' other arm and Sirius strokes at the hair curling over Remus' forehead, mumbling, "Oh, god, she's killed you." 

"Worse ways to go," Remus says. 

[hpotterwhore]

I Never Find Out (‘Till I’m Head Over Heels)

Steve Harrington x f!reader

Summary: Steve says ‘I love you’ and panics; it’s a good thing you love him back. (1.8k words — Fluff: Mentions of driving over curbs/on icy roads, Steve almost swallows his gum, reader and Steve engage in banter, reader and Steve are so in love it’s sick.)

“You know I drove over two curbs because of you?” 

Steve Harrington arched an eyebrow at the odd greeting. He was facing one of the computers; his Family Video vest was still draped over his frame. You marched towards him and stood on the opposite side of the counter. You threw your coat-clad arms over the countertop and leaned forward, trying to get a look at the computer screen.

It was after closing time. Half the lights in the store were shut off and Steve was the only person left. He forgot to lock the door; good thing you were the one who walked in.

You had asked if you could pick him up from a shift. It was a pretty cute request, he thought. Despite the fact that he had a car, he didn’t want to deny his girlfriend — who had been his friend before that — the opportunity to do something nice.

Even though you were together now, and had officially been going out for a month, Steve still felt all those silly, romantic comedy-esque things around you. 

You had been friends for years, but being together was still a new thing. Boyfriend, girlfriend. You two had only tasted the words on the tips of your tongues. He couldn’t suppress the way you made him feel. He tried to deny it, he really did, only because he wanted to be suave Steve, but really he was lovesick. Infatuation covered him head to toe.

It’s not like the bell ringing at the door, to introduce you, made his heart hammer or the fact that you’d greet him with that oh, so pretty smile of yours would make his cheeks feel far too warm for an autumn’s night. Obsessed, enamoured. He had been in love with you for far too long, he didn’t want to scare you by expressing it all at once; he thought he might explode, if he did. But you, on the other hand, didn’t hold back. You were sweet to him, sugary; but history of friendship could not be ignored: when banter was necessary, you’d play along.

“Well I’m sure it was the curb’s fault. It could’ve moved out of the way.” Steve commented, removing his eyes from the bright screen to give you his attention. He reached his hand out to one of yours that hung limply on the edge of the counter. His thumb brushed over your bony hills. 

“Stop.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his remark. “No, seriously. At some point we have to start asking questions. Why would a curb want to be driven over?” He wondered aloud.

“You're funny, Harrington.” The tip of his nose was pink and you couldn’t refrain from tapping at it. Steve gave a bashful smile. 

“I said sorry to the curbs, after I drove over them.” You admitted. “You did?” Steve asked, almost in shock, as he guffawed. “I did.” You nodded, slightly embarrassed. 

Your brows furrowed. “Hey, wait! I’m mad at you, don’t try to make me feel better by blaming curbs.”

“Mad at me? What’d I do?” He asked. His thumb was still brushing across the back of your hand. “I thought I was late to pick you up, so I sped over here. The roads are icy, you put me in peril.” You slid your hand out of his grasp to point at him in an accusatory way. 

“I’m sorry,” he replied, a little sheepish. “Good thing you’re pretty.” You sighed. “You think I’m pretty?” He raised his brown brows and gestured towards himself. “I think you’re gorgeous.” You beamed, leaning back to straighten up. Your back made a popping noise. “Gettin’ old?” Steve jested. 

“I compliment you and this is how you respond? What kind of man…” You shook your head at him. “Get your own ride, Harrington.”

“You are my ride!” He argued. You waved a hand at him and reached into your purse for a stick of gum: strawberry flavoured. 

Steve watched you and extended his palm out to obtain his own piece. “Where are your manners?” You gasped at him. He rolled his eyes. “Can I please get a stick of gum?”

“I don’t know, can you?” “Jeez.” Steve sighed, you giggled. 

“Here.” You opened up the packet and handed him the gum. “What are you doing? And more importantly, how long will it take?” You vaguely gestured towards the computer.

“I was almost done until you barged in here.” He chewed on the gum, a burst of flavour drowning his taste buds.

You tilted your head at him, an expression of subtle shock painted your face. “You’re such a dingus, do you know that?” 

“You’ve been spending too much time with Robin. She’s a bad influence.” Steve hurried to type in the last few names of movies that were back in stock. The thick keys of the keyboard clicked below the pressure of his quick typing.

“How so?” You inquired as you shifted forward again to watch the screen, neck tilted at a slightly awkward angle. “Calling me names now. Dingus? Pathetic attempt to hurt my feelings.” You circled your head away from the computer and towards his face. The light of the screen illuminated him in a blue hue: he looked marvelous. 

“She’s an inspiration to me. I wanna be just like Robin when I grow up.” You responded. “You’re older than her!” Steve’s shout had a hint of whininess attached to it; you could’ve cried. Something about Steve’s whines was so distinct, so him. It didn’t matter if whining was often annoying, for some reason you adored it when he did it.

“And your point is?” You persisted in annoying him, but no matter what you did, Steve found you to be endearing. When you accidentally stepped on the heel of his shoe, when you put a little too much sugar in the brownies you made for him, when you ganged up on him with the kids: he loved you through it all; because you were his dream girl and he finally had you.

“Why did I even let you pick me up?” He muttered to himself. “Because I’m a really great girlfriend.” You replied. He hummed in thought. “Doesn’t seem like a good enough reason.” 

“Steve.” You falsely gasped. If Dustin was around he would’ve been feigning nausea. The kids always claimed that “you two are like an old married couple.” Max was the first to point it out, when you and Steve were just friends.

“How was work today?” You switched the subject. Steve relaxed further into the seat as he began to shut off the program. 

“Wednesday’s are pretty slow.” “Good slow or bad slow?”

“Depends on the kind of Wednesday. It’s usually a bad kind of slow when you show up. See how long it took me to finish?” He pointed at the computer and raised his head to grin at you, the gum was squashed between the left side of his pearly whites. He thought he was hilarious. “Like I get that you like my company, but jeez… let a guy do his job, ya know?” 

Steve shuffled out of the chair he was on. He stripped off his vest and grabbed his bag from under the counter.

“Hey, Steve,” you cooed as he raised back up. Your voice was soft and it sounded oddly sincere. He gave you his undivided attention.

“Will you marry me?” Steve’s Adam’s Apple bobbed. “What?” The question was breathy. No way you were being serious.

Then, you tilted your head with a gentle smile and reached a hand out to grab his. You lifted his hand upward and pressed a short, sweet kiss to his knuckles. Keeping up that facade, you said: “just looking for something to shut you up.” 

You giggled at the look that washed over his face. Half dejection, half relief.

Your laugh was harmonious, it made him dizzy. He felt that he needed to sit down again.

“Hey, I’d marry you if you wanted me to.” He shrugged, looking at you intently.

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.” You squeezed his veiny hand and pressed a chaste kiss to his palm. Lightheaded, he felt. His eyelashes fluttered. Was he on fire? It certainly felt like he was.

“I like it when you come in on Wednesdays.” He admitted and you pressed another kiss to his warm palm. His heart raced. He had dreams and daydreams about this, but nothing compared to the real thing.

“I like it, too.” You admitted. 

He felt foolish, and adored, and every single thing a person should feel when they’re in love. He liked you and he liked that you were here, doing something nice for him.

“Y/N?” Steve called. “Hm?” 

“I like it when you pick me up from work.” 

You smiled at him. “Yeah?” You wondered. “Yeah.” 

“Want me to do it more often?” You lifted your hands up, still linked, and arms extended. You walked on the outside of the counter, and Steve on the inside, until you reached the end so he could get around and out from the counter.

“Yeah.” He replied. “Okay, Stevie.” You nodded.

You two stood before one another. He looked down towards your joined hands.

Without thinking, Steve said: “I love you.” 

The sentiment was spoken so kindly. His declaration was delicate. Even as friends, you said things akin to the L-word, but never exactly that. A nonchalant, teasing “love you, Stevie!” / “love ya, too, dork.” But never I love you. Steve almost swallowed his gum.

Was it too early? Probably. You were only in shallow waters of a romantic relationship, some people didn’t even profess this kind of devotion in the deep end. 

The way your eyes glimmered and smile stretched could not be mistaken for anything except pure elation, but Steve was too nervous to completely comprehend your positive response.

“Really?” You questioned. “Yeah, I mean… if you want me to?” He questioned back, cringing  internally. You held back a laugh; it was such a nice moment, you didn’t want him to feel bad. 

“Do you want to?” You countered. “I mean, yeah. I can’t take it back now. Not that I want to!” His eyes went wide and you shook your head. You’d never seen Steve like this before. 

“Would it help if I told you that I love you, too?” 

His eyes widened, hope could be felt within him.

“You mean it?” “I mean it.”

Steve expelled a deep breath in contentment. He leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours. Flesh sticking, uniting you two. 

“That’s a relief,” he jested, making you laugh. “Would’ve been really awkward if it wasn’t reciprocated.” 

“Shakespearean tragedy.” He murmured and your shoulders shook with laughter.

“I love you, Stevie.” You whispered and he grinned from ear to ear. 

That night, Steve Harrington declared his love for you in the middle of a quiet and dim Family Video, and neither of you would have it any other way, because Steve loved you and you loved Steve, and that’s all you two would ever need.

[hpotterwhore]

Tread Carefully

Pairing: neighbour!Peter Parker x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is used to being led on and then let down in love which leads to her not quite believing just how much Peter likes her.

Set after the events in No Way Home! As always, Peter is aged up to be in his early-mid twenties.

A/N: This one goes out to the all the girls who have been made to feel crazy when they’ve been led on by someone who suddenly loses interest. You are valid and you deserve so much better (and someone like Peter in this fic <3)!!

Feedback & reblogs are always appreciated <3

Whilst others seem to fall into love quite easily, for you it was always like trying to catch fire in a jar. Never successful, getting burned in the process and eventually the jar melting with all the exposure to further render your attempts useless.

Such carelessness with your emotions had led you to a solitary existence. The mere suggestion of reciprocated feelings had made you strategic and forceful, putting pressure on every encounter with a prospective lover in hopes that one day you might secure love.

Naturally, the pressure would snap any cord of bond you might have with someone and there you were, left again without any recourse. A scorned woman.

This wasn’t always your fault. Often, you’d bestow your emotions upon someone unworthy. Gaslighted with a promise of something real, you’d pursue these people only to be bitterly disappointed with a frank conversation where they confessed that you were great but all the same, not good enough.

Enter Peter Parker, your sweet neighbour who moved in next door a few months ago and brought with him a little spark that had you giddy.

The day he had moved in, he just seemed so out of his depth and alone. With the door open, he’d stood in the middle of his apartment looking round at the admittedly small number of boxes he had. Nevertheless, he looked entirely overwhelmed and frozen, struggling to even take the first step to open any of them.

You’d just finished grocery shopping as you walked past, peering in quickly when you came across the open door. From where you were standing, viewing his slumped shoulders and helpless face, it looked like he was going to cry. He looked so lost and you were sure that your help was exactly what he needed.

So, you came to the rescue. Announcing your presence, you offered your help which he reluctantly accepted. One by one, you worked your way through the boxes and worked together to set out his things the way he’d like them. At first, he was wary of you but grew more comfortable as you took things at his pace, never pressuring or hastening him.

You cooked him dinner, noting that his fridge hadn’t been stocked up yet. He asked you for coffee the next day as a thank you.

Coffee dates became dinner dates which naturally slipped into taking turns to make dinner for each other every night. He was so convenient being next door and had explained being new to the area that he had no one else really. Naturally, he gradually began to intertwine himself within your plans until you had become inseparable. Not that you minded, you hadn’t been this infatuated in a long time.

You did everything “right”.

You nurtured your feelings, trying to keep them on a leash to prevent them leaping out of control. You were calm and collected around him, allowing yourself to freak out about him after you said goodbye for the night. You made allowances for him in your plans yet didn’t hedge your bets on having to actually plan around him.

Yet, you still expected him to let you down. Some dark, twisted and nasty corner of your brain still told you that you were holding on to false hope. You had let people in before only to have them ridicule you for ever thinking that something could happen. For all you knew, Peter could be - and probably was - just the same as the rest of them.

Although, surprisingly, he hadn’t let you down to date. He always turned up on time when he said he would, except for that one rare exception that he had to cancel. Even at that, he was following up with you to reschedule and even planned and paid for the whole date because he felt so bad about having to miss your plans.

He let you touch him and he allowed himself to touch you. When your thighs lingered as you sat next to each other, he didn’t move away or sit in clear discomfort. Contentedly, he’d continue his story while you sat, completely mesmerised by the fact he’d allowed you a crumb of intimacy with just a simple gesture.

When this inevitably went downhill, it was going to kill you.

***

Winter had taken over the city. The restaurants and shops below your apartment had started to decorate their storefronts with festive lights which teamed up with the streetlights to create a cosy light in a cruelly cold and dark night.

It was Peter’s turn to cook that night. He stood at the stove making mac and cheese in plaid pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt that although oversized, still managed to show his muscular shoulders.

You sat on his couch flicking through Netflix to find a suitable Christmas movie for your night in. As the snow began to fall outside, you wrapped the blanket round you tighter and excited yourself with the idea of cuddling up to Peter to keep warm. Peter hummed as he plated up the food; it was his Aunt May’s recipe and he’d raved about it for weeks, insisting he would make it for you.

You tried not to read into the fact he was letting you into something he’d shared with his aunt who had been more like his mother. Nor did you read into the fact that the blanket wrapped round you was one you hadn’t been able to stop touching in the store because of how soft it was. He’d bought it so he could see the big grin on your face as you smoothed your hands down it.

“You really love that thing, don’t you?” Peter commented with a sweet smile as he handed you the plate.

“It’s just so soft! How did they make it so soft?” You beamed in response.

“I don’t know, but you look really cute with it wrapped round you.” He smiled, facing the TV and taking a bite before saying the all too familiar yet equally dreadful sentence.

“I think we should talk.”

It was so out of left field and so unexpected. The horrible yet familiar feeling of dread sat deep in your stomach and destroyed your earlier appetite for a home cooked meal. Setting your plate down, you took a deep breath in anticipation of what he was going to say next. You had to give it to him, ending this over his beloved aunt’s recipe was a new low in your experience of rejections.

“Sure.” Was the only response you could muster without it sounding like you were dying inside at the very notion Peter could end all of this.

“Well, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now, right?”

Oh God. This really was it. Now was the time for the usual chat. He’d come out with some drawl about how even though you had spent every day together, ate together, slept together, treated each other like boyfriend and girlfriend, that it was of course, casual and you were irrational to think anything different. In the heat of the moment, frenzied by embarrassment, you’d agree and tell him you’d even prefer to be friends. Then over the coming months, the dejection would slowly eat away at you as you’d overanalyse the memories and consider what you should have looked for to ascertain that this would never be a serious relationship. Good enough for a fling, but not quite enough for a substantive commitment.

It was going to be a long and lonely winter.

“Yeah, two and a half months to be exact.” You stated, as if for a court record to build your case on just how much of your time he had wasted before he was about to throw this genuine and beautiful connection away. Peter merely chuckled at your matter-of-fact manner, oblivious to your serious tone.

“Well, I was wondering if you’d like to be my girlfriend?” He asked nervously, watching you with a hopeful smile.

Admittedly, your reaction was in fact, irrational.

“Sorry, WHAT?!” You yelled back, so taken aback by the question. It was what you wanted to hear but not at all what you expected.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Peter tried to explain, clearly self-conscious by his choice of timing and now considering what seemed to be a real possibility of you rejecting him. “I just thought that I really love what we have and I wanted to make it official but if you feel differently then-“

You cut him off before he could go any further by lunging over and wrapping your arms round his neck tightly. You held him like he would disappear if you let go. The longer you held on, the more tangible his question became and the more likely you were being validated that this whole thing wasn’t just a one-sided and bittersweet liaison, doomed to fail from the beginning.

Peter chuckled, managing to set his plate down on the coffee table, despite you clinging on to him like a koala. He settled back against the couch, rubbing his hand up and down your back soothingly while you sat still, completely incapable of letting go.

“So… is that a yes?” Peter asked with slight concern in his voice as he tried to measure how long you had been silent for.

“Of course, it’s a yes! I thought you were going to end this!” You confessed. Peter frowned at your response, unsure where you could ever have gotten that idea from. He had tried so hard to not be one of those asshole guys and not lead you on. He started to question whether he should have done anything differently.

“Why would you think that?” His question came with a sweet kiss to your temple. Despite you holding him hostage with a cuddle, he seemed quite content.

The heat of embarrassment claimed your cheeks causing you to nuzzle your face into his neck. This should have been a really happy and carefree moment between you both, and hopefully the beginning of many years together. Yet, your insecurities and past emotional injuries had tainted this.

Perhaps, sharing your intense fear and feelings was going to be too much for Peter. Still, if he was going to be in a relationship with you, he ought to know the truth.

“I just…” You began, sitting back to look him in the eye. “I just never get asked that question.”  

Peter looked at you with a mixture of surprise and sadness. His eyebrows furrowed in contemplation and he let out a silent “oh”. At first, you thought he was pitying you but then you came to realise that he was just appreciating how big of a deal this was for you.

“I always seem to be the practise run or the casual fling. I never seem to be enough to be the girlfriend. You know?” At this, Peter nodded silently and reached his hand out for you to hold which you gladly took.

“And with you, I’ve been trying so hard not to get overexcited or put too much pressure on you but I really like you, Peter! I’ve been terrified that you’ve wanted to end this for a while now.” You explained further, watching him get confused.

“What did I do that made you think that?” Peter mumbled, his own fears and guilt setting into him. He had been trying so hard to let people in and to think that he was potentially failing was more than a tough pill to swallow.

“Nothing.” You said simply, because it was the truth. He had done nothing wrong.

“It’s just, I let you into my apartment, which was supposed to be just mine. I talked to you about Aunt May, which was really hard for me but I trusted you with it. I… I fell asleep on you. I felt safe enough with you to sleep soundly. I just don’t think I could have done anymore to let you know I was interested.”

The lump in Peter’s throat was evident with his words. This poor, sweet boy had no idea that this was so much bigger than him. It was an injury to your very being that had attached itself to you for all time coming. In truth, Peter had opened up to you and had let you in. On the other hand, all of those boys had done the same thing. They fed you with private and emotional insights then cut off the supply when you dared tried to establish a deeper emotional connection. How were you to tell the difference? 

“Sweetheart, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just, not all guys are as genuine as you. They mess with our heads and then call us crazy.” You explained calmly, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing his knuckles lightly. The words took purchase in Peter’s body and he nodded at you, slightly embarrassed.

“I am sorry you’ve been through that. I just really liked you and wanted to let you in. I have meant it all and I’d really like for you to be my girlfriend.” He smiled, reaching his other hand out to caress your cheekbone. An excited and surprise giggle escaped your lips.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Peter.” You leaned in and kissed him deeply, putting your hands on his cheeks. His hands found your waist, pulling you to sit on his lap. You gladly obliged, not once breaking the kiss. It wasn’t catching fire in a jar. Rather, it was gathering water that easily streamed into the jar – filling it up and adapting to the shape of its keeper without any threat of burning or melting; secured simply with a screw top lid. It was different, fresh and easy.

“Okay,” Peter chuckled as he finally pulled away from the kiss. “Can you please let me know if I made a good job of dinner?”

“Sure thing, boyfriend.” You grinned, giving his lips one last peck before leaning back and retrieving your neglected plate from the table. It was starting to get cold but that didn’t matter. You were going to give it a glowing review anyway.

You draped the blanket over the two of you and cuddled into him, no longer afraid to show him just how keen you were. He hummed happily at this, turning to gently kiss your temple. Your mind and body relaxed, content in the knowledge that you need not tread carefully around your Peter.

Finally, someone genuine.

[hpotterwhore]

Hello cute, I was wondering when you will do the second and third part of insatiable, of course if you feel comfortable ❤️

honestly speaking, i don’t write that often anymore! i either don’t have the time or motivation BUT i did have an outline for both parts so if i have a burst of motivation and inspo, maybe i’ll get it out :)

[hpotterwhore]

i've got you - s.h.

summary: after dinner with steve's parents goes terribly, you let him know everything will be okay; based on a kiss prompt: an "everything will be okay" kiss wc: 2.5k warnings: shitty parents, sad steve, but fluff to fix it! a/n: lol so this was supposed to be a blurb, and it got out of control! i hope you like it!!

Masterlist

Steve was silent as he unlocked the door, tossing his keys with a bit too much force onto the table just inside your entryway. He kicked his shoes off, the toes of them thudding into the wall, one of them leaving a small scuff mark on the paint that you’d have to remove later. You’d gone to dinner with his parents, and to no one’s surprise, it had not gone well. His dad had started in on him immediately, berating him for the millionth time about not going to college, for having a shitty job and a shitty apartment, for refusing to work with him at his company — the list went on and on. Steve’s hand on your knee was the only thing stopping you from blowing up at his dad; you knew it’d only make the situation worse, and didn’t want to do that to Steve. 

You’d never liked his parents, his dad more specifically. They turned your sweet, affectionate, and bubbly Steve into a shell of himself — quiet and reserved, eyebrows pinched together, shoulders stiff. He’d tried to keep any semblance of emotion — namely, the pain — off of his face, but you knew him better than that now. And as much as he tried to shrug off his dad’s comments, you knew they got to him. 

Following suit, you stepped into your small apartment with Steve and closed the door behind you, making sure to lock it. Your own shoes came off, much more carefully than his had, and you shrugged off your jacket, hanging it up before turning to Steve. You called his name softly, catching his forearm in your warm palm, tugging at the cuff of his jacket, “Let me hang this up for you, bub.” He let you help him out of his jacket, placing a soft kiss to your cheek as a thank you, though no thank you of any kind was necessary. 

There had been tentative plans for a movie night for the two of you, but now you weren’t sure if Steve would be feeling up to it. The question was on your lips as he turned to you with a half-hearted smile, “Still want to watch a movie?”

“Sure,” you nodded quickly, wanting to do whatever would help him relax and get his mind off of the awful dinner, “I’ll start the popcorn if you wanna go change into something comfortable.” You’d met his parents at a fancy restaurant, calling for your nice, but uncomfortable, clothes. Steve nodded and placed a soft peck to your lips in parting, and then made his way to your bedroom. 

The popcorn was barely halfway done when Steve padded into the kitchen to find you. He’d done a quick change, swapping his nice pants and shirt with a pair of sweatpants and his favorite hoodie. It was obvious he’d also taken a few seconds to brush out the gel that had been in his hair; it looked softer now, and a few pieces hung loosely in his face. Your favorite part, though, had to be that his glasses were now perched on his nose. Steve didn’t wear them often, even though he needed them, but you loved how he looked in them, and told him so every time. You couldn’t help but grin when you saw him, “Hey, handsome. You look comfy.”

“Definitely better than that stiff shirt and tie,” he grumbled, crossing the kitchen and stopping just behind you, a warm hand settling against your hip. “I’ll finish this, you go change, too, baby.”

When you re-emerged from your room, in your comfiest clothes stolen from Steve, you found him on the couch. The popcorn was piled impressively high in a bowl, and there was an open bottle of beer sitting next to it, however it looked like it hadn’t been touched. Steve looked frustrated as he banged the remote against the palm of his hand, trying to get it to work as he muttered a soft, “God dammit.”

Not wanting to startle him, you murmured a soft “hey” and then dropped onto the couch next to him. “Want me to try?” you asked, holding your hand out for the remote. 

He placed it in your hand after a moment and then slumped back into the couch, arms crossing over his chest. He was still abnormally quiet, and it made your heart ache, but you didn’t want to pry and force him to talk if he didn’t want to. 

When you couldn’t get the remote to work either, you went off in search of some new batteries, and after rummaging through some drawers to find the right size, you returned to the living room, the remote and new batteries in hand. “Hey, I think I found the right size, but—“ you stopped mid-sentence as you turned the corner to find Steve in a new position. He was leaning forward again, his elbows resting on his knees, and the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. “Steve?”

Steve’s head shot up, sniffling once as he shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts. His hand pushed through his hair to get it out of the way, as he attempted to plaster a smile onto his face. When he spoke, his voice was rough like he was shoving any emotion back down, “Did you find some?”

You ignored Steve’s question as you set the objects you were holding onto the table, and then settled onto the couch next to him carefully. Your hand slid across his back, hand curving around his shoulder to pull him into you, voice delicate, “C’mere, baby.”

It was enough for Steve to finally crack. He let out a ragged breath, shoulders shuddering as he slumped into your embrace. Your hand quickly came up to cup the back of his head gently, twisting your torso so Steve could press his face into the crook of your neck. He let out a strangled gasping noise that broke your heart into pieces, and you could feel a few tears soak into your skin. 

Smoothing a hand over Steve’s hair, you used your other hand to rub gentle circles over his back. You stayed quiet, aside from an occasional “I’ve got you,” wanting to let him get it all out. You’d only seen him cry a few times, and while you appreciated that you were the one of the only people he let himself be vulnerable like this with, it broke your heart. Especially when it was something like family issues. Something he shouldn’t have to deal with. 

After a few moments, Steve let out another uneven breath, his breath hot and wet against your neck as his hands twisted into the fabric of your shirt at the sides. The tears had seemingly stopped for the moment, an angry huff escaping his lips. Your hand continued rubbing along the length of his spine, up and down, again and again, and you sat quietly with him, knowing he’d talk when he was ready. He sighed again, releasing his grip on your shirt, bringing his hand up to wipe a thumb over your wet skin, “‘M sorry, I—“

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you quickly cut him off, shaking your head vehemently. You kept your hand placed on the back of his head, fingers sifting through the soft strands slowly. Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, you murmured, “It’s okay.”

“I just…” he lifted his head from where he’d pressed into your neck, eyes squeezing shut, jaw clenched tightly as he shook his head with a pained laugh, “I hate how they make me feel. Every single time. Like I’m not good enough, and I never will be.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and you couldn’t help the frown that tugged at the corners of your lips. You hated knowing that he ever thought of himself in that way, even just for a second, because of his parents of all people. His name slipped out of your mouth, pain marring the tone of your voice, “Steve. Baby, you know that’s not true, right?”

It took a second, but Steve gave you a short nod, though he kept his gaze low, not wanting to make eye contact with you. His teeth were practically tearing his bottom lip up, “Mhm.”

His answer wasn’t convincing enough, far from convincing, really, and you shifted so that you could take his face into your hands. Cupping his jaw lightly, you pulled his chin up, being as gentle as possible, so you could look him in the eye, “Hey. Look at me, baby.” After a moment, you cracked a small smile as you added, “Feels weird to be the one saying that.”

This caused Steve to smile, the tiniest bit of a genuine smile, as his eyes met yours finally. He let out a soft snort, shaking his head as a light blush crept up his neck, “Shut up.”

You grinned, feeling pleased with yourself for at least making him smile, if only for a moment. Your thumb brushed out over his cheek gently as you refocused the conversation, “Seriously, though. I need you to know that what your parents think… it doesn’t mean shit. They don’t know anything about you, baby.”

Just as quickly as it had appeared, the smile dropped from Steve’s face, shoulders sagging. His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper as his eyes met yours, “I’ve never been good enough for them. ‘M always a disappointment.”

“Oh, baby,” you murmured softly, eyebrows creasing together as you pushed your fingers into Steve’s hair and out of his face. “Just because your life doesn’t look like what they planned for you doesn’t mean you’re a failure. Joke’s on them for trying to plan anything in the fucked up world we live in. And, quite frankly, if they really care that much, they should’ve been around more to show it.”

Steve’s long lashes kissed his cheeks as his eyes fluttered closed, leaning into the touch of your hands on his face with an almost imperceptible nod. He was really considering what you were saying, and you hoped it was sinking in, if only a little. When he opened his eyes again, a new anger was lit in them, “And the shit he said about you a-and us—“

At one point, his dad had implied that yet another one of the reasons Steve was a disappointment was because he couldn’t fully support you. To his dad, it was embarrassing that you lived in a tiny, somewhat rundown, apartment, and even more embarrassing that you paid for half of it. If only Steve would come work for him, well, then everything would be better. You could get a nicer place, and you wouldn’t have to work. 

You’d been unable to stop yourself from audibly scoffing then, and you did the same now, “I hope you know I don’t care about that shit. Anywhere with you is home. And all of that was incredibly sexist, honestly. As if I need you to take care of me, like I couldn’t survive on my own.” 

“I know,” Steve cracked another smile at that; he’d thought he was going to have to hold you back at dinner. You’d looked like you were honest to god about to jump over the table, and as much as he would’ve liked to see that, it wasn’t the time or place. His eyes met yours again before he tilted his head forward, pushing his forehead into yours lightly, “Thank you.”

“What for?” Your nose nudged into his as you placed a soft peck to the corner of his mouth.

Steve lifted his shoulders into a shrug, “Just… for being here. And supporting me. Helping me see that my maybe my parents are wrong.”

“No,” you shook your head quickly, wanting to set the record straight, “they are wrong. They just are. You’re amazing, Steve. And if they can’t see that, that’s on them.” One side of Steve’s mouth quirked up as he hummed quietly in response before he returned a soft kiss to your cheek. 

With a hand still tangled in the hair at the back of his head, you shifted your position until your back was against the arm of the couch, and you slid down a bit to be laying a bit more. Your free arm slung around his shoulders, pulling Steve’s top half down until he was laying on top of you, cheek pressed to your sternum. He seemed to be feeling at least a little better and figured he wouldn’t argue with some cuddles for the rest of the night. 

When he didn’t complain, you bent your knees slightly to hug Steve’s torso, fingers stroking through his hair repeatedly in the way you knew he liked. His eyes were closed again, but he looked more at peace this time. “You, Steve Harrington, are more than enough. You’re kind and funny and caring and smart and brave. You do more than enough for the people you love, and you do it without a second thought. Don’t ever think for a second that you’re not enough.”

Steve had thought he’d been done crying, but couldn’t help the tears welling up in his eyes again. Sniffling a little, he cleared his throat and swiped a hand underneath his eyes, “Stop making me cry, you jerk.” He wedged his arm underneath you, between your back and the couch cushions, as he tried to get more comfortable, pressing his face into the soft fabric of your shirt. 

You giggled and shook your head adamantly as you twisted a strand of his hair around your index finger, “No, I’m serious! I mean all of it. And you deserve to hear it.”

“I love you,” Steve replied, feeling like it was enough to sum up everything he was feeling, pressing his chin into your sternum to look up at you. 

“I love you, too.” You reached out, hand sweeping his hair off of his forehead for what felt like the millionth time to see him more clearly, “Whatever you do, Steve, you’ll be great. And I’ll always support you. Everything will be okay.”

The hand that wasn’t pinned underneath you moved to press into the couch next to your head as Steve shuffled a bit so his face was level with yours again. His hand pressed into your back, underneath your shirt to pull your body into his, head dipping down to press his lips to yours in a short but sweet kiss. He dropped his forehead back onto your temple, nose pressing into your cheek. 

Your arms crossed over the back of his neck as you angled your own neck back, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “Baby, I…” a kiss to his nose, “love you…” a kiss to his jaw, “so much. You’ll be okay. And I’ve got you.”

When Steve’s eyes met yours this time, he was giving you a familiar smile as some of the darkness had begun to melt away. He didn’t know what to say, feeling like his heart could burst in his chest from the fondness, and settled for laying back against you, face pressed into the crook of your neck. 

-

steve friends ily

@cagethemunson @summertimestyles @sparklingsin @seolaseoul @toms-gf @captaindanvxrs and thank u to @familyvideostevie for reading this before i posted it!!!

[hpotterwhore]

❥ the set up | peter parker social media au

🕸️ part five: we need to talk

summary: peter parker is still in love with his ex girlfriend (and your roommate) michelle, and you've caught yourself stealing glances at his best friend, harry osborn, a little too often. when pictures of mj and harry kissing is leaked on the internet, you and peter (despite the academic rivalry) enter into an agreement that benefits you both with only one goal: to set each other up.

series masterlist || main masterlist || send an ask to be tagged

part six: peter parker who?

feedback and reblogs are appreciated! thank you for reading <3

[hpotterwhore]

「 sleepyhead 」

robin buckley x fem reader

summary: your girlfriend - & friends - finds you adorable when you’re sleepy.

requested: yes

word count: 1.5k

warnings: fluff, sleepiness, semi-public sleeping, pet names (lovebug/bug, baby/babe, & squish)

a/n: i know i wrote this fic, but it makes me so soft i stg. i love robin so much & this request was so fucking cute. i really hope you guys enjoy it! Xx

Trying to hide a yawn behind your hand, you can’t help but pout as you hear Robin still laughing and talking animatedly with your guys’ friends. 

It’s the weekly movie night all of you - Steve, Robin, Nancy, Eddie, and yourself - had agreed upon, but tonight you wanted nothing more than to curl up into bed with your girlfriend. 

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[hpotterwhore]

reminder that this is a pro choice blog, because access to a medical procedure shouldn’t be a debate, and if you think otherwise, fuck off

[hpotterwhore]

can’t get close  |  ch. six

☛  series taglist      ♪  series playlist      ✎  series masterlist

w/c: 5,354

warnings: suggestiveness, mentions of sex, mentions of drinking, language, angst, and st4 spoilers lmao

summary: peter spends the night, a certain word is almost said, mr. delmar tries to set you and peter up, and brad davis ruins everything

a/n: my sincerest apologies for how late this is omg i was busy with final exams so i wasn’t able to finish on time but i’m free now! we’re back on track y’all and i hope this was worth the wait <3 much love, thank you for being patient

you wake up feeling like absolute shit. the sun is too bright, your room is too hot, and your throat fucking burns. it must be the aftermath of drinking, and a couple of other activities you did with peter the night before.

at least you have the weekend to recover.

you peel your blanket off your overheated body and sit up in bed, legs hanging freely over the edge. after trying to massage out a knot in your neck to no avail, you get up to close your blinds. even that doesn’t block out the goddamned sunlight. you groan and dive back into bed face first, laying on your stomach in starfish position. you fumble around for your phone to look through your notifications.

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