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becca-e-barnes · 3 months

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Cannot stop thinking about making a really submissive Bucky cum until he can't anymore 😵‍💫

I love the thought of working load after load from him and the way that he'd go from being pretty quiet and composed to whimpering and writhing, unsure if he needs more or less of your touch.

Getting him to a stage where he feels empty. He feels like he has nothing left to give you. You've made him watch as you jerk him off with a delightfully lubed hand, squeezing and tugging until his cock is twitching and throbbing and shooting thick, messy stripes of cum against your palm. You don't stop after he's finished though. His release only makes the glide of your hand smoother and the sight of his own pearly cum being worked back over his cock makes him hard again in no time.

"Please." He groans, throwing his head back, exposing his beautiful throat. Your hand tightens around his cock involuntarily and you find yourself almost wishing you had your other hand around his neck. "Please don't make me cum again. I-I can't."

Bless him, his strong thighs are twitching, his muscles tense, trying to force his body to listen to his brain for just a second.

"Sweetheart, I don't think you're empty yet. You gave me so much cum just a few minutes ago." You let yourself give in just a little, leaning over and kissing along the column of his throat, enjoying the light salty perspiration against your lips.

Bucky rolls his hips but it's hard for him to tell if he's trying to lean into your touch or away from it. In truth, he loves feeling like this. He loves having his cum milked from him and having no choice but to enjoy the mind numbing pleasure of your body.

His thighs are streaked with evidence of his own lust and he's almost ashamed that he's still hard. Not just as hard as he was when you started though.

"F-Fuck." The slick sound of your hand pumping him quickly is overwhelming. Your grip is tight on his shaft while you cup his balls, squeezing and teasing them gently, encouraging them to work overtime for you.

"I can't cum again. I can't." Bucky pants, whimpering when he forces his eyes to meet yours again.

"You told me that last time. I'm not sure when you decided it would be a good idea to lie to me but I promise you, it isn't." Your tone would make him tense but he's tense already, trying to hold back an orgasm he truly doesn't need.

"This is the last orgasm I want from you. You can manage it for me, can't you?" You sound so sincere this time, he can't help but agree.

"Good boy. Now cum nice and hard for me. I want to hear how pathetic you sound."

For the next few minutes, there are no sounds except the delightfully wet sound of your hand working lube and cum against his dick and the frantic moans of a man reaching a level of pleasure that verges just nicely on painful.

When he does cum, you let it splash against your palm once more and you notice how little he's able to provide you with. He's entirely empty, legs shaking but babbling how grateful he is for the way you touch him.

Now that he's spent, it feels like your turn to enjoy yourself while he watches and nothing sounds better than touching yourself with the hand that's covered in his cum.

#becca's thots #becca writes spice #subby!bucky #sub!bucky #it's official #I have the keys to my new house!!#I went over really early this morning and got started on my unholy deep clean #If it can be bleached I will bleach it #if it can't be bleached I will scrub it until it wishes it could've been bleached #and it's silly because it's really clean already #it's nice to get in and start planning my projects though #I'm thinking a little log burner in my main living room #my bedroom only really needs to be repainted so I'll do that by the end of the week #and then I'll move on to the kitchen but that'll be a bigger project

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steddiehyperfixation · 5 months

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don't you forget about me (part four)

(part one)(part two)(part three)

Eddie wakes from a thankfully dreamless sleep, his head on his pillow now, which is somehow far less comfortable than Steve’s solid chest. Speaking of… Eddie looks around; Steve isn’t there at all anymore, and Eddie is alone. He’s disappointed, though not entirely surprised, that Harrington’s left him again despite his promises.

In fact, he’s honestly more surprised when less than two minutes into his wallowing in the empty room, the door is pushed open by none other than Steve Harrington carrying two trays of food, one balanced on each hand like a goddamn waiter. It’s kind of adorable, actually, Eddie thinks, and that thought surprises him a little too.

“Oh, you’re awake! Good morning.” Steve sets one of the trays on Eddie’s lap. His smile is bright, though there’s a slight, uncertain wobble to it. “Shitty hospital food and shitty hospital TV, right?”

“Right.” Eddie’s face breaks into a grin, something light unfurling in his chest. He glances at the plate of gross food on his lap then back up at Steve, and he admits, “You know, for a second there I thought you’d left again.”

Steve shakes his head as he settles into the chair beside the bed with his own tray. “I promised you I’d hang out today. I’m a man of my word.”

“Good.” Eddie smiles and grabs a remote off the bedside table, turning on the TV. “Now for our mealtime entertainment, let’s see what’s on the shitty TV today.”

The television starts blaring some old black-and-white rerun of I Love Lucy. Eddie’s immediately about to change the channel, but then he notices the way Steve’s eyes have lit up. “Hey, that’s not shitty TV!” Steve says. “I used to watch this with my mom all the time when I was a kid.”

Eddie snorts. “Of course you did.”

Steve gives him an indignant look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Eddie shakes his head evasively, shoveling a forkful of rubbery scrambled eggs into his mouth so he doesn’t have to say anything else.

Steve just rolls his eyes, almost affectionately, like they’ve had conversations like this before. He chews on a flimsy piece of bacon and makes a face, nose scrunching up. “Ugh, you really weren’t kidding about the shitty food, though.”

“Nope,” Eddie laughs, “I really wasn’t. Thanks for catering it though.” He swallows down another mouthful of food, and then adds with a little less levity, “And, uh, thanks for last night, too - for calming me down. Don’t think I’ve said that yet.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Steve gives a small smile, shrug, slight shake of his head, a tiny pinch between his brows like he doesn't quite get why Eddie even feels the need to thank him for that. “That's what I’m here for. I just hope I didn't cross any boundaries or anything, holding onto you like that.”

Now it's Eddie's turn to give him a confused little smile and a head shake. “No, of course not. That was exactly what I needed.” He attempts to add some humor back into the conversation, jokingly quips, “Although, to be fair, I never did think that King Steve would ever be caught dead in a bed with The Freak.”

Steve had hazarded another bite of his breakfast, trying the eggs this time, only to choke on it at Eddie’s comment. He coughs, hits his fist against his chest, and hurriedly takes a sip from the water bottle on his tray.

“Jesus.” Eddie tries not to take offense, assuming Steve’s reaction to be one of disgust at the double entendre. “That bad of a thought, huh?”

Steve shakes his head and clears his throat, face flushed. “No, no, it’s not that, man. Food just went down the wrong pipe, is all.”

“Uh huh…”

“Seriously.” Steve gulps down some more water, quiet for a moment before adding, “You know I’m not King Steve anymore, right? Haven’t been for a while now, since even long before your memories end.”

“Yeah, I know. You ditched Tommy H. and Carol your junior year, and then Nancy Wheeler dumped you and Billy Hargrove stole your crown and bashed your face in your senior year, I remember,” Eddie recalls. “But for the most part you were still well-known and well-liked, still this popular, pretty, rich boy jock all the girls still drooled over, so.” He shrugs. “Always figured ‘King’ still fit.”

“Right…” Steve raises his eyebrows as Eddie lists off these events of his life, looking at him with a smirk of barely-hidden amusement. “I forgot you were obsessed with me.”

Eddie’s jaw drops in exaggerated offense. “I was not obsessed with you.”

“Were too,” Steve taunts.

“Was not.”

“Were too.”

“Was not.” Eddie chucks a piece of bacon at him.

Steve gasps indignantly as the bacon slaps him in the face and tumbles onto his lap. “You child!” But he’s laughing, retaliates by flinging a forkful of eggs back at Eddie.

The conversation devolves into a full-on food fight, shrieking and cackling as they pelt each other with flying bits of eggs and bacon. It turns out shitty hospital food serves far better as ammunition than it does as anything actually edible.

A nurse chooses the exact wrong time to decide to come in and check on Eddie, walking into the room at just the right moment to be caught in the crossfire and hit with a stray chunk of egg. Both boys freeze.

“Uh oh…” Eddie mutters under his breath. Just his luck - it’s not the young, nice nurse, Katie, who always laughs at his jokes, but Nurse Margaret, the old, mean one who he’s never once seen crack a smile. She flicks the egg bit off her shoulder, leveling them with a stern frown as she marches over.

Eddie casts a furtive glance at Steve who looks back at him, lips twitching like he’s trying not to laugh again, and Eddie feels mirth bubbling back up in his own chest too. He has to look away from Steve again before he loses it.

He sucks his lips in, clamping them together between his teeth to hold in his laughter, and he stares up at Margaret with a thin-lipped, guilty, upside down smile as she chides them both for making a mess and scolds Eddie for exerting himself and risking reopening his wounds. Steve mumbles an apology and starts cleaning up the scattered bits of food strewn about the room while Margaret double checks that Eddie hasn’t, in fact, reopened his wounds or gotten worse in any way. Once the nurse is satisfied with both the state of the room and the state of Eddie, she whisks away what’s left of their food trays and stalks out of the room with one last disapproving look over her shoulder.

Then and only then does Eddie risk eye-contact with Steve again, and the two of them immediately burst back into laughter. Steve nearly doubles over with it, leaning against the trash can where he’d just been dusting off his hands. “Oh my god,” he chuckles out. “Her face when I hit her with that egg? I was so sure she was gonna kick me out.”

“Nearly gave mean old Margaret an aneurysm, and that was just from hitting her shoulder,” Eddie snickers. “Imagine if you hit her in the eye or something.”

Steve does his best impression of Margaret’s angry scowl and reproachful huff, and Eddie cackles. He laughs so hard his sides ache and his injuries hurt, wounds aggravated by the movement of his laughter, but he doesn’t care, the pain far too distant beneath the cushion of painkillers and positive emotion he currently feels so high on.

“You’ve still got some egg in your hair,” Steve notices with another amused snort as he pushes himself away from the trash can and approaches Eddie’s bed again. He plucks the offending bit of food out of Eddie’s curls and smooths down the hair where it had been stuck. “There.”

Steve’s fingertips brush ever so lightly against Eddie’s cheek when he fixes his hair. It sends a pleasant sort of shiver down Eddie’s spine, turning his laughter to breathless giggles just for a moment. “Thanks.”

Steve flicks the egg chunk into the trash before sinking back into the bedside chair with a soft sigh and a warm smile. “God, I missed this,” he says, “just laughing with you.”

“Yeah.” Eddie returns the grin. For him, of course, this is the first time they’ve laughed together like this, but he has to admit he’s already rather fond of it. “Can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed that hard.”

Steve’s smile turns nostalgic, like he can remember the last time Eddie laughed like that, like he was there for it. “It’s a good look on you - laughter,” he says, so quietly Eddie almost feels like maybe it wasn’t meant for him to hear. And Eddie can’t help but think that laughter is a pretty good look on Steve too, all rosy cheeks and shining eyes.

“How did we become friends?” Eddie asks, before his previous thought can take any sort of root.

The nostalgia in Steve’s expression only grows. “It was the beginning of June, start of summer, probably only a few weeks after your memories stop. I was working at the Scoops Ahoy in Starcourt, that new mall that had just opened, and you wandered in,” he says, looking at Eddie with a teasing glint to his eyes, “because you were obsessed with me-”

“Was not,” Eddie protests immediately.

“Were too,” Steve laughs. “Anyways, you saw me in my stupid little sailor uniform trying and very obviously failing to chat up a girl at the counter, and you came in just to laugh at me, actually.”

“Okay, that does sound like me,” Eddie concedes with a grin. He probably walked in there just for the sailor costume alone, if he’s being honest with himself. That’s something he’d kill to see - just for a good laugh, of course. “Do you still have that uniform? It might, you know, jog my memory a little if you were to bring it in one day,” he suggests slyly.

“You and that uniform, man,” Steve scoffs and shakes his head like this is something they’ve talked about many, many times before, enough for it to become a predictable sort of annoyance, a longsuffering inside joke. “No, I don’t still have it. Threw it out first chance I had, not to mention it got totally ruined when the- uh, when the mall burned down.”

Eddie’s eyes go slightly wide. “The mall burned down? While you were there?”

“Yeah- well, sort of,” Steve falters, a shadow falling over his expression, and he shakes his head again. “It’s kind of a long story, and not the one I’m telling right now.”

“Right, yeah, shit.” Eddie waves his hand as if to erase everything he’d said before. “Forget I mentioned it.” He, more than anyone, understands not wanting to relive bad memories right now. “Continue the other story. How did we go from me making fun of you to us being besties?”

The shadow lifts as Steve returns to that memory. “Oh, yeah. I told you the show wasn’t free and that you needed to order something or leave. So you bought a milkshake, which I somehow managed to end up completely spilling all over the both of us when I tried to hand it to you. You were livid,” he chuckles, “thought I’d done it on purpose, even though I definitely hadn’t. I felt so bad I insisted on helping you clean up. You were icy about it, but you let me show you to the sink in the backroom and accepted the jacket I lent you so you wouldn’t have to walk around with ice cream stains on your shirt all day.”

“That’s quite the meet-cute,” Eddie jokes. “Are you sure you’re describing our friendship and not some rom-com chick flick you watched last week?”

“Nah, true story, honest. It wasn’t a rom-com,” Steve says, and though he smiles, there’s an odd sadness to it too. He shakes his head and continues, “Anyways, you clearly warmed up to me after that because you came back the next day to return the jacket and apologize for being a bit of a dick before, and then you gave me this whole ‘you’re actually a good dude’ speech and told me to give you a call if I ever wanted to split a joint or something. I took you up on it that same night; it had been a rough day at work and I figured why not, so I came over and we smoked and we talked and we got along like a house on fire - better than either of us expected, I think. And that was our thing, then, after that - smoking and talking. Sometimes weed, sometimes just cigarettes, and sometimes we just smoked and didn’t talk, and then sometimes we just talked and didn’t smoke; until eventually we started doing other things together too besides just talking and smoking, we were just hanging out. At that point we were friends, practically inseparable, and then we-” Steve stops himself, a shade of melancholy reentering his dim smile once more. “We only got closer from there.”

“That sounds nice…” Eddie tries to remember it, really digs deep in his mind for any sort of spark of memory or recognition in Steve’s words, but it’s empty. It all just sounds like a story to him, doesn’t settle anywhere real. It’s a good story, sure, one he’d like to experience, one he aches to connect with, but a story nonetheless, only words, only fiction. “I wish I could remember that.”

“Me too,” Steve says, and Eddie hates how sad he looks, hates even more that he’s the cause of it.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to make new memories, then!” Eddie declares with a theatrical amount of enthusiasm as he flashes Steve a bright grin, all in the hopes of chasing that sadness back off of his face. “Won’t we, my friend?”

Success; Steve seems a little startled by Eddie’s sudden gusto, but he laughs and smiles, the real kind this time that shines in his eyes again. “Yeah, I guess we will.”

Eddie does his best to keep the conversation away from their past after that, not only in an attempt to keep the light in Steve’s expression but for his own sake too. It’s a strange thing to be reminded of the fact that he shares a history with someone and has no memory of it, to be around someone who seems to know everything about him while he feels as though they’ve only just met.

For the most part, hanging out with Steve is nice and fun and easy - there’s something so natural, familiar, about the way they talk, the way they banter, the way they sit together even in the silences. But sometimes Eddie will say something that makes a sadness flicker in Steve’s eyes again, or sometimes Steve will say something that makes Eddie wonder just what secrets this guy knows about him and his skin crawls with that old discomfited itch. They’re both quick with a joke, a redirection, whenever the other’s expression falters, though, like Steve is trying to make sure Eddie doesn’t feel uncomfortable just as much as Eddie is trying to make sure Steve doesn’t feel sad.

Other visitors come in and out of Eddie’s room that day too: Dustin stops by with a portable cassette player and some newer heavy metal albums that came out during the period Eddie no longer remembers, which brings more than one source of entertainment as it also incurs Nurse Margaret’s wrath again when they listen to it too loud. Wayne drops in with some actually edible fast food for lunch and a deck of cards, playing a few rounds of a few games. Nurse Katie checks in on him to redress his wounds and she laughs at his stories of annoying Margaret. Even Steve has to leave a couple times, says he has errands to run or needs to pick up Robin from work, but he promises to be back each time and each time he is.

Night has fallen now, and it’s just Eddie and Steve again, Steve sitting, as always, beside Eddie’s bed as they watch whatever cheesy old movie is playing on TV while Eddie fights off sleep. He fears it still; each wave of drowsiness that washes over him is met with a shiver in his heart that breathes ice into his veins and freezes him awake.

After about Eddie’s hundredth attempt to suppress a yawn, Steve turns off the TV and looks at him. “Are you tired?”

“No,” Eddie says, only for his lie to be almost immediately undermined by another traitorous yawn. “Alright, yeah, I am, but- I don’t want to sleep,” he admits. “I don’t want to dream.”

“Oh.” Steve’s gaze softens, sympathetic. For the first time unprompted, not waiting for a nightmare or for Eddie to ask like he always had before, Steve moves closer and takes Eddie’s hand. “I’ve got you, you know,” he says, the statement fierce in its sincerity. “It’ll be alright. I’ll fight off your nightmares with my bare hands if I have to.”

Steve’s hand is warm against the chill in Eddie’s blood, the heat of his skin seeping in to thaw his fear. “I don’t think a nightmare is something you can fight,” Eddie says, cracking a smile, but looking at Steve now, he can almost believe it.

There’s a new sort of spark in Steve’s eyes, protective, devoted, and it burns the way a fire in the hearth of a home burns, like something dangerous made safe just for him. Eddie suddenly doesn’t doubt, somehow, that Steve could fight off anything, even something as intangible as a nightmare, if it was threatening Eddie. With Steve here holding his hand, he somehow doesn’t doubt that not a single thing can hurt him. Not a single thing would even dare try.

And not a single thing does.

No nightmares make their way into Eddie’s mind that night, no bad memories stir in his subconscious. That night, instead, he dreams of Steve.

(part five!) taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies. please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list)

#aww look they're bonding #was gonna include eddie's dream at the end but it was just way too long so. that'll be the next part i guess #steddie #steddie angst #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #fanfic #mine #dyfamsteddiefic #<- tag to follow for this story for those who didn't make the taglist but still want to follow along <3

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