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#positive steve
thebeingmerf · 10 days
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Analysis book Full headcanons part 6 - misc. era (aka that time rainbow Steve was dead for like a month)
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Steve Saga AU where Plague Steve absorbs Positive Steve and Negative Steve instead of helping Sabre kill them.
So when it’s Plague’s turn to be the antagonist, he taunts the heroes with Positive's powers, Negative’s powers, and puns.
“You just tested negative in BEING ABLE TO LEAVE THE RAINBOW TOWN" [lightning]
And
"Your dweeb test result came in. You're positive." [lightning]
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otter-pop-supreme · 2 months
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Elemental: Nightmare and I don't use pet names, that's stupid
Negative: Oh really? What do bees make?
Elemental: Honey?
*silence*
Positive: Neg, you're doing it all wrong! What make honey?
Elemental, sweating: Bees?
Nightmare, from the room over: Yes, Bird, darling?
Negative: ....I'm so done with this family
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so-idialed-9 · 2 years
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Louis: [exists]
Louies:
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littledoepeach · 3 months
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some ocs!! a pissed off cat girl and a high maintenance puppy girl who met on tinder and are now dating 😌🙏
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hungharrington · 6 months
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hi, gorgeous. currently daydreaming about steve’s innocent, shy girl climbing on top of him while he’s in a chair and she’s ready to ride him but his huge hands settle on her hips to stop her and she’s looking at him all confused and ready to do her part but he just says “just sit here and look pretty for me,” before he begins to absolutely pound into her, one hand on her hips and the other holding her jaw to make her look at him. he’s just praising the hell out of his little angel baby for taking him so good because he’s just so big. the mental image of his furrowed brows and clenched jaw as he watches her completely melt on his lap from pleasure has me clutching my peARLS
– sittin’ pretty
U KNOW WHAT!! UR THE DEVIL! THE DEVIL!! anyways this request had me feral the moment i started writing it… it gets a little soft at the end tho fem!reader, light choking, hella praise kink, what the request says basically <3 and around 1.7k MDNI this entire blog is 18+
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It’s hard to press down your shyness as you tug the tight elastic of your underwear down your calves. They pool at your ankles. You step out of them and resist the urge to cave in and cover yourself. 
“C’mon, c’mere sweet girl,” Steve says softly, his hands smoothing over the top of his tan hairy thighs. He pats them to urge you over. 
Everything feels a bit stilted as you tiptoe over to the big comfy armchair he’s seated on, with his thighs parted. You can feel a surge of slick between your thighs at the sight of his aching cock, the head all pink and drippy just for you. It lies back against his happy trail, the vein on the side prominent. 
Steve offers you his hand, palm up. You take it and let your knees gently find either side of his hips, hovering hesitantly above him. Heat swirls between you, mixing with the fog of lust that emanates heavily from Steve. His adoring face gazes up at you, but his are eyes dark in a way that makes your tummy twist up. 
“Hi, pretty.” He murmurs, guiding your face down for a kiss. You sigh into it sweetly, hands gripping his shoulders. 
“Hi.” You whisper back, against his lips. His kiss and reverent gaze give you courage, leaning back to plant one hand on his knee. Your other hand reaches between your two bodies and curls around his throbbing cock. It’s warm and hard, twitching at the sudden stimulation. Steve hisses lowly, his tummy flexing as pleasure jolts through him. 
Even though you’re shy, that doesn’t mean you’re not impatient. Today, there will be no working him up til he’s begging to be inside you, no matter how much you desperately want to. Instead, you waste no time, tilting your hips forward to let the head of his cock catch against your entrance in a way that makes you moan. Your thighs ache a little with the slow pace you lower yourself — but Steve’s cock is always a stretch. 
It stings, just the slightest, but enough to make you revel in it. You sink down, hand shifting forward to hold his hip to prop yourself up, and your eyes flutter shut in pure ecstasy as his hard cock stretches you open— unaware of how Steve fights to keep his eyes open, drinking in every minuscule expression on your face. 
“That’s it, honey,” He coos, sweeping his hand up your hip to tug you down an inch more. You mewl, body shuddering as you clench around him. It feels fucking mind-melting how good he feels filling you up. “That’sssss it.” 
You’re whimpering by the time he’s fully hilted in you, your thighs pressed down against his own. Steve’s panting a bit, hairy chest rising and falling as he struggles to keep himself in control. You’re so wet, so warm, and god, you’re still so shy even when you’re sitting on his cock — averting your eyes even as your tight little hole clenches around him. When did he get so lucky?
Try as you might, there’s not stopping the pitiful gasp that comes out when you lift yourself back up, his cock gliding almost all the way out of your cunt. You can feel the mess you’re already making on him, can already feel the subtle ache in your thighs but none of it deviates you from your plan. You’re going to ride your boyfriend like there’s no fucking tomorrow. 
But right as you prep yourself to sink back down, Steve’s hands stop you, shooting out to grab you by the hips. You pause. Shyness creeps back in. 
“Wha…? Is something wrong?” You ask. 
Steve’s quick to comfort, one of his hands reaching up to cup your cheek. “Hey, hey, everything’s fine. I just—“ He shift his hips up a bit and you shiver, eyes fluttering closed without thinking. When you open them again, he’s grinning. 
“I just want you to sit here and look pretty for me, hm?” He leans up to kiss your cheek and it makes you entirely too distracted for what happens. 
His tummy clenches, muscles tightening, as his hips suddenly snap up, thrusting his cock back deep into you. You squeal. 
“Steve!” Your hands propel forward, grasping his shoulders, but he doesn’t pause. His hands on your hips tighten as he holds you in place, drilling up into your wet cunt, hard and fast. Pleasure dribbles through your core, hot and melty. His thighs slap against your own, causing them to buckle and you sink down a little lower — only forcing his cock deeper inside you. 
You whine, all of a sudden overwhelmed, and tuck your face away— all too aware of how every time he fucks up into you, you make a needy little uh. 
And, well, that just won’t do. With one hand keeping your hips secure, his other wanders up, creeping in around your neck. Even as he fucks you roughly, his touch is still gentle. His big hands can stretch across the expanse of your jaw— and he uses it to coax your head up. You’re already looking teary eyed, warm enough in the face that he can feel it with his hand, all from how much you’re enjoying it. Steve loves it. 
“Baby,” He manages to rasp out sweetly. You gasp, hiccupy and high pitched, embarrassed by the wet squelchy noises he’s fucking out of your cunt. “Look at you, my baby. Doing so good for me, huh? Taking it so well, angel.” 
You lean into the hand around your throat further, letting him curl his fingers around it a bit tighter. One of your hands flies up to grasp his wrist, needing, craving the connection. 
“Steve,” you cry, delirious from the pleasure. His cock fills you over and over, unravelling you from the inside. “Steve,” You repeat his name uselessly, mouth hanging open as a whiney moan takes over. 
“I know, I know.” He coos, sweet as he can be while ruining you on his cock. He’s got a furrow in his brow, his jaw set, perfect brown eyes searching your face— always looking for which button to press next, which way to make it better for you. God, you love him. 
“So fucking good, isn’t it angel?” He grunts. “Perfect fuckin’ cunt, just made to take my cock, isn’t she?” 
“Yes!” you keen, the words tearing from your mouth. “Yes, yes, yes, fuck,” Pathetic whimpery noises flow out freely, your grip around his wrist tightening as you feel heat gather low in your tummy. 
“G-God, fuck,” Steve groans, the first hint of desperation leaking into his words. His hand around your throat tightens in the slightest, a soft pressure that has your head spinning. “Can fucking feel you getting close.” 
His words make you moan, your thighs slipping further down — your hand shoots out to brace against the arm of the chair, desperate to keep him going, to reach your peak. 
“Your—“ A whimper slips into his voice. “Fuck. Your pussy gets all tight when she wants to cum— y’wanna cum?” 
You’re nodding along before he’s even finished his sentence. With how hard he’s fucking you, hips thrusting up against yours, it’s a wonder he can even see it. You whimper out a “Yes.” just in case. 
“I know you do.” He groans loudly. “Deserve to, too. You’ve been so good, so fucking good, yeah?” 
His hand holding your hip slips forward, snaking towards your clit and pleasure twists the coil in your tummy up tighter and tighter. His rough thumb pushes against it, sloppy but effective. You wail. 
“Y’deserve to cream all over my cock like a good girl, don’t you?” He rasps, throat a bit wrecked from every sweet sultry noise thats passes his lips. 
You’re not even sure if it’s words coming out your mouth anymore, just a whiney mess of yes’s tangled up in your moans. Steve whines, the rhythm of his strokes beginning to falter as his own orgasm begins to rear up. You whine and your hips move on their own accord— bouncing down on his cock to meet his thrusts midway. 
“Yes, yes, fuck, you’re so good, y’look fucking perfect bouncing on my cock,” Steve rambles, that perfect pussy-drunk expression beginning to take over him. His moans turn to whines and with one desperate whimper of your name, you topple like a house of cards. 
Pleasure unravels you. Your hips stutter and drop down, trying to cram every inch of Steve into you as you can, while your other hand claws weakly at his tummy. Heat scorches every nerve inside you, delicious and overwhelming all at once. 
The scratch of your nails, the clench of your wet cunt, the pitiful crying noise you make, all of it sets Steve off — his back arching and hips bucking up, trying to get more of your hot, wet pussy. His face screws up, a high whine tearing out his throat as his hands grapple to circle around your back, trying to get you closer.
It’s a sweat press of skin, chest to chest. You twitch and moan, face tucked away safely in his neck, as Steve lets all his noises out into the curve of your own. It’s deeply intimate — enough to make your shyness peek back up when Steve digs his face out after a minute of laboured breathing. His face is pink, his expression blissful. 
“You,” He huffs tiredly, eyes scanning your face worriedly. “You okay? Wasn’t too rough?” 
You melt a bit, a breathy laugh escaping you. “Yeah, I’m okay.” You chuckle. Nerves rear their ugly head within you before you can flatten them. “Was I— that was good?” You check. 
Steve laughs softly, nuzzling in closer to you. He smells fantastic. You can’t help how you mirror him, nosing along his cheek, letting your eyes slip shut. 
“Baby, I think you melted my brain.” He says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 
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backjustforberena · 3 months
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Corlys and Rhaenys at their daughter's wake, with their grandchildren. DO NOT REPOST.
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morganbritton132 · 6 months
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Steve, in the middle of a live-stream, points to a miniature that he’s just noticed on one of the shelves in Eddie’s studio, “Hey, who’s this?”
Eddie, briefly looking away from the stream, “That’s a demogorgon.”
Steve scoffs, “That’s not a demogorgon.”
“Yes, it is,” Eddie says like this is actually a conversation that they’ve had a lot. “Wheeler is just shit at naming things.”
“I think El named it actually.”
“Well, someone should have corrected her!”
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lapinelantern · 4 months
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They moved in together in 1990
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artsyaxolotl · 7 months
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Motivation Monday: You are strong, but you are also tired, and thats OK 💤⭐️
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solarmorrigan · 7 months
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No one looks like they did in high school forever (be kinda weird if they did, honestly). Changes catch up with everyone sooner or later. For Steve, it seems to have happened sooner.
Personally, Eddie is in favor.
It isn’t that he hadn’t thought Steve looked in good in high school – god knows it isn’t that (Eddie may have thought Steve had been an asshole at the time, but he’d been a pretty one). It’s just that high school had been a time of basketball and swim meets and carefully watching his diet and carefully curating his appearance to match what he’d thought other people would want to see.
The time since graduation has been spent putting on the type of muscle that would better facilitate fighting monsters and keeping a band of misfit children safe (because after three times around, Steve hadn’t quite been able to bring himself to believe that the Upside Down was really gone), being fed by a rotating cast of mothers who appreciate him being there for said misfit children, and in letting himself decide how he thinks he looks good.
The first time Eddie really gets a good look at Steve after he’s left high school, he’s gone from lean muscle and looks a bit closer to the tank that Dustin’s been insisting he is. The first time Eddie sees him in action, he decides he wants to climb Steve like a tree.
Broad shoulders, strong biceps, solid core, thick thighs, that ass—is it objectification if you’re dating the guy and also madly in love with him? Whatever—Eddie is of the opinion that the time since high school has been very kind to Steve, appearance-wise.
He’s startled to realize, then, that Steve does not always share this opinion.
It doesn’t happen often; it’s rare enough that even Robin almost misses it, and Eddie is a big enough person to admit that she’s a more experienced Steve-watcher than he is.
For the most part, Steve is comfortable in his skin; he knows he looks good, he knows Eddie thinks he looks good, he knows what he’s capable of, and he’s pleased with where he is. Some days, though – some days just aren’t good days.
There are times when Eddie will catch Steve lingering in the mirror, frowning over a shirt that used to fall differently, or a pair of shorts that used to fit a little more loosely. He might reach for one of the cookies that Claudia sent them home with after their last dinner over at the Henderson household, before faltering and grabbing an apple instead (or, sometimes, nothing at all). He might wear extra layers, steal one of Eddie’s slightly oversized flannel shirts, go on an extra run, or he might not be in the mood to cuddle up to Eddie in bed (in spite of the fact that Eddie knows how much he loves getting to be the little spoon, even if he still refuses to say it out loud).
Most of these things by themselves don’t really have to mean anything, but somehow, Eddie can always tell when it’s one of those insecure days.
(And if Eddie had ever thought when he was younger that Steve Harrington could feel insecure about the way he looks, about his body, he might have cracked a crass joke about King Steve’s obvious need to overcompensate for something. Now, though, he knows better. Also, he’s a tiny bit more mature than that.)
So when he comes into the living room one afternoon to find Steve practically crammed into the corner of the sofa, curled in on himself just enough to suggest that he’s trying to take up less space, Eddie decides that that will just not do.
Eddie loves Steve’s confidence. He loves the space Steve takes up in his life (metaphorically and literally). He loves Steve, and he sure as hell isn’t about to let him spend the day feeling bad about himself, so he ducks back into the bedroom for the book on his nightstand and then plops down on the other end of the couch.
He reads for a little while and doesn’t really have to worry about getting too distracted from his plan, because he always finds himself tilting towards Steve like a compass to magnetic north, whether he’s actively trying or not. So he reads, and he shuffles around on the couch a bit, and he lists to the side a little, and then he’s finally just close enough to Steve to plausibly ask, “Hey, d’you mind?”
Steve glances up from the magazine he’s been reading, brows furrowed. “Mind what?”
Eddie points to the way Steve’s legs are drawn up almost to his chest. “Stretching your legs out? I wanna lay down.”
And normally, Steve doesn’t hesitate – hell, normally, Eddie doesn’t even need to ask; it’s almost as if he can just tell when Eddie wants to rest his head in his lap and automatically moves to welcome it. Today, though, he rolls his eyes.
“We have pillows on the couch for a reason,” he says, jerking his head towards the throw pillows at the other end of the couch (as if Eddie could forget the throw pillows; they’d spent a goddamn hour at the furniture store staring at the choices and had walked out laughing about how boring and adult and great it felt to be decorating their apartment with fucking throw pillows – but that isn’t the point).
Eddie scoffs. “Why would I settle for a pillow when I could have something way more comfortable?”
“Yeah, there’s no way my lap is better than a pillow,” Steve drawls.
“Baby, your lap is the most comfortable resting place known to man,” Eddie states, so dramatically intoned that it makes Steve laugh, even though Eddie is fairly serious. “Now why would you deny me my favorite place to lay my head?”
Steve rolls his eyes again, but obligingly (if slowly) stretches out his legs and rests his socked feet on the coffee table to make space for Eddie.
“Thank you,” Eddie says primly, before flopping down on the couch and making himself comfortable with his head situated on Steve’s lap, then giving a demonstrative little wiggle to settle in. “Yep, that’s the stuff. Perfect.”
“Man, shut up,” Steve mumbles, turning back to his magazine.
When Eddie glances up to check that he hasn’t gone too far, there’s a bit of a flush high on Steve’s cheeks, but no real displeasure on his face, so he doubles down.
“I will not. Not until you acknowledge the perfection that is your thighs,” Eddie declares, pressing his head further back into Steve’s lap. “Firm, but with just enough give–” he reaches up and pinches the side of Steve’s thigh, smiling innocently when Steve jolts and glares down at him, “always warm. Perfect.”
Steve turns his eyes resolutely back to the magazine he’s got balanced on the arm of the couch. “Not perfect.”
“Well, sure, perfection is subjective, means different things to different people, blah blah blah.” Eddie waves his hand in a vague ‘et cetera’ gesture and accidentally smacks Steve in the arm before he turns his head (and his hair is absolutely going all staticky after being rubbed against the fabric of Steve’s sweatpants, which is going to be a nightmare later, but that’s a problem for future Eddie) and presses a kiss to the spot just above Steve’s knee. “But they’re perfect to me.”
For a moment, Steve is still. Then he shifts slightly in place, and Eddie has the feeling that if he were standing, he’d be shuffling from foot to foot.
“And I have it on pretty good authority that my opinion counts for something,” Eddie goes on. “So if you ask me—which you should—your thighs are one of your best features.”
Finally, Steve glances back down at Eddie. “You think so?” he asks, soft and a little hesitant.
“Absolutely. One of my favorite parts of you, on a rotating basis with every other part of you,” Eddie says, grinning when Steve scoffs, because this time Steve is smiling, too. “What? There are so many good features, I’ve gotta make sure I pay them all equal attention.”
And the thing is, Eddie does know that what got Steve into this mindset in the first place was spending so long seeing himself as valued only for what he can provide physically: a handsome face, a lean figure, a human shield, the Party tank – whatever it is. Most of the time, Eddie makes sure Steve knows what he loves about him as a person, not just about his body. He could gain one hundred pounds, he could lose all muscle mass and be as skinny as a rail, he could look like anything, and it wouldn’t matter, because Eddie loves him.
But that doesn’t mean Steve doesn’t also want a little reassurance now and then that Eddie loves his body, too – which Eddie does, and is happy to provide.
“And today, I’m paying attention to your thighs,” Eddie concludes.
“Stop saying ‘thighs,’ it’s starting to sound like gibberish,” Steve shoots back, but there’s a pleased tilt to the corners of his mouth now.
Eddie hums. “I especially love when you let me lay in your lap. Love having your legs under my head. Or wrapped around my head.” He waves his hand around his face, smirking up at Steve. “Just, in the vicinity of my head, really.”
Steve loses the battle with the laugh he’s been trying to hold in and it overtakes him, shaking with mirth under Eddie while Eddie smiles along with him.
“You’re ridiculous,” Steve says, once he’s gotten his breath back.
“I’m just putting it out there,” Eddie says.
Steve cocks one eyebrow at Eddie and turns back to his magazine with a smirk. “Uh huh. Well, I’m a little busy right now.”
“Oh, sure, me too,” Eddie says easily, bringing his book up over his face as if he’s going to continue reading, even though he isn’t even sure he’s on the right page.
They do settle after that, though, quiet and close and comfortable being draped over and under one another. Steve’s hand finds its way into Eddie’s hair and cards through it absently like he’s petting a cat. Eddie would probably purr like one if he could.
“Love you,” Steve murmurs, glancing down as he flips from one page to the next.
“Love you, too,” Eddie replies, tilting his book away just enough to smile up at Steve.
Maybe later Eddie will get to prove how much he loves Steve’s thighs wrapped around his head. Maybe not. For now, though, he hadn’t been lying – just this is perfect.
[Prompt: Resting your head on your partner's lap]
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steddieas-shegoes · 10 months
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Request: Hop & Joyce don't really like or trust Steve & he knows it. He can tell by their behavior towards him. Post spring break from Hell, Steve tears into them both after they insinuate that it's his fault for the kids being hurt. Steve YELLING at them in front of the party bc he is injured more grievously than the kids & he once again protected them, to the detriment of himself.
Joyce & Hop are forced to acknowledge that their behavior was cruel. And they have to apologize but Steve doesn't accept their apology straight away.
I am usually such a sucker for Hopper adopting Steve and treating him as his own that this was really difficult. Like, maybe top 5 most difficult things I have ever written. It's kind of short, but I wanted more of the focus to be on people standing up for Steve and Steve standing up for himself than the actual angsty part. My darling, I hope it lives up to expectations! -Mickala ❤️
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“I guess I just don’t understand how Max ended up like this if Steve was supposed to be protecting them all.”
Joyce’s words echoed in Steve’s head.
She was whispering to Hopper in the waiting room, but it was surprisingly quiet, and easy to hear just about anything.
The kids were asleep on the couches, waiting for any news on Max or Eddie, but the nurses told them it could be hours. Hours were a long time to wait when someone was bleeding out and the other someone had multiple broken bones and was unconscious.
Steve felt untethered, his connection to the earth cut the moment he saw what happened to Eddie, pushed into a dangerous orbit when he saw what happened to Max.
“He’s never really let me down like this. Did you hear Dustin say he thinks he was distracted by Eddie?” Hopper asked quietly.
“What did he mean by that?” Joyce paused. “Oh. Do you think so?” Steve couldn’t see their faces, couldn’t see the way they were having a silent conversation within a conversation. “It wouldn’t be the first time Steve let his romantic feelings get in the way of their safety.”
And that really wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair because he always put these kids who weren’t even his first whenever he could. It wasn’t fair because it wasn’t his job to be perfect. It wasn’t fair because they were the adults who should have been here to help and they weren’t.
He could feel tears building up, his vision getting just blurry enough that he knew he needed to walk away or he would start actually crying, and he couldn’t let anyone see that.
Especially not Joyce and Hopper.
Apparently, they already thought so little of him, he couldn’t possibly show them that he was struggling now.
“I think we’ll have to have a talk with the kids about trusted adults. They seem to rely on him for a lot and maybe if we just explain to them that Steve can’t handle it-”
“Excuse me, Mr. Hopper?” A nurse, thankfully, interrupted them.
Steve turned to see a young nurse, probably barely older than him, standing in the entranceway to the waiting room.
Hopper walked over to her, actually whispering this time, as if what was being said right now was a secret, but not the way he felt about Steve.
He glanced over at Steve, then nodded to the nurse. He called Joyce over to them, whispered something, then they both looked at Steve.
He hated what was happening. He was used to being a disappointment to adults, but in a silent way. His parents weren’t really ever around long enough to show their disappointment for long. Seeing it now, on the faces of people he respected and wanted to impress, hurt.
Hopper started walking over to him, his face serious.
“They have Max stable. She may not wake up from the coma, but they’re hoping she makes a turn for the better soon. Eddie woke up a few minutes ago while they were trying to stitch him up and he kept yelling for you. He isn’t quite stable yet. He passed back out as they were trying to put him on oxygen.”
“But they’re both alive?”
“For now.”
“Can I see Max?”
“I don’t think that’s a great idea right now. They’re trying to reach her mom, but the phone lines keep going down. I’m standing in as the adult responsible until she can be contacted.”
“So now you want to be the adult responsible? Not any other time when we needed you?” Erica said from behind them.
She’d been asleep with Lucas and El only a minute ago.
“Erica, it’s fine. I’ll just wait with you guys.”
“No, Steve, it’s not fine.” Erica put her hands on her hips, scowled up at Hopper and Joyce, who had just joined them. “Steve looks out for us every day. Even when the world isn’t trying to end. He drives us to school or from school or to the arcade, he pays for our food at the diner all the time, probably spends all his paychecks on us. And where are the parents? They don’t even know where we are most of the time.”
“But-” Joyce started to interrupt until Erica held up her hand.
“You left your kids to fly to Russia when you knew something weird was going on. You could have died, and then what? You know who would have stepped in? Steve. Because that’s what he does for us. Do you know one of his worst concussions was because he was protecting Lucas and Max from Billy? You know he drove Max everywhere she needed to go all year because she didn’t wanna be around anyone else? How about the fact that without him, we wouldn’t have even been able to get Eddie back here? But sure, blame him for this. It totally makes sense to point the finger at the one person who has protected us over and over again.”
Steve was crying.
The other kids were starting to wake up from her voice getting louder as she spoke, and it didn’t take long for them to realize what was happening.
El and Dustin surrounded Steve, cuddling into his sides to comfort him. He needed it, and he was always willing to accept love from the kids. They so rarely gave it, not because they didn’t love him, but because they were at that age where they didn’t want to.
These kids were his in almost every way that mattered, and he was just grateful that they weren’t hesitating when he needed them most.
“You kids could have died. Steve should have never allowed most of this to happen. He’s the adult, and he let you all go into this without even considering you could die.”
“You think we were just gonna sit around and wait for the adults to handle it? When have we ever done that?” Dustin asked incredulously.
“It’s what you should have done. Steve knows that.”
“Mr. Harrington?” A different nurse was standing in the doorway now, older, definitely less nervous.
“Yes?” Steve responded, wiping his tears away quickly.
“Mr. Munson is in a recovery room. He’s woken up a few times for a minute and each time he’s asked for you. Are you family?”
He was pretty certain hospital policy meant only family could go back, especially during natural disasters, so he lied.
“Yes, he’s my cousin. I can’t reach anyone else yet.”
The nurse smiled, though she probably didn’t quite believe him.
“Right this way, then.”
Dustin tugged on his arm.
“Can I come with you?”
“Sorry,” Steve shook his head. “Not yet. Let me check on him, and I’ll come right back out for you.”
“See? This is what I meant about letting his feelings get in the way! What if we weren’t here? Would you just leave the kids to sit out here alone?”
This time, El spoke up.
“Steve is always putting us first. He can put himself first sometimes. That is allowed.”
Steve wanted to hug her again, but the nurse looked like she was going to walk away, and if he didn’t follow her, he wouldn’t see Eddie.
“Go see him, we’ll be here,” Lucas said from next to Erica.
He nodded at them all, giving them a smile before he followed the nurse without looking back at Hopper or Joyce.
Eddie was asleep when they entered the room, so the nurse whispered to him at the door.
“He’s on a lot of morphine, and he’s still receiving a blood transfusion. He may wake up off and on, but he probably won’t make much sense until they lower the dose. Just be here for him,” she smiled before leaving the room.
Steve turned to Eddie and couldn’t hold back more tears.
He’d let him down. He’d let all of them down.
He was supposed to be the hero, despite the jokes about it all, they all knew he was.
But not this time.
Eddie almost died. Max almost died.
He could feel the bat bite on his stomach burning and itching, like it was already getting infected, but he ignored it.
He could wait.
He sat down on the side of the bed, slowly so he wouldn’t wake Eddie up.
But Eddie’s eyes fluttered open once, then twice, then a third time before they managed to stay open enough to see Steve.
“Stevie?” His voice rasped out, a small smile hidden under his oxygen mask. “You’re here.”
“I’m here, Eds.”
He had to be strong, but his brain was so focused on everything he’d done wrong and if he’d just been faster or got out of the vines quicker, Eddie probably wouldn’t be here and Max would be awake and-
“Stop.”
“Hm? Stop what?”
“Bein’ mean.”
Steve’s brows furrowed. He hadn’t even said anything else, had he? Was he so exhausted that he was actually talking without realizing it now?
“I’m not even saying anything.”
Maybe it was Eddie hearing things. He knew morphine was pretty intense.
“To yourself.”
“What?”
“Bein’ mean to yourself. In your head.”
“I-”
“‘S okay. Me too sometimes. Just gotta stop.”
Steve couldn’t help but smile at the way Eddie’s eyes kept drooping closed as he spoke. He would probably fall back asleep any second.
“I’ll be nice. You get some sleep.”
“You rest?”
“Not yet. Maybe later.”
Steve couldn’t really rest until he knew everyone was home, safe, and sleeping off some of the worst of their injuries.
“Yes yet.”
Steve snorted. Eddie was so high. He knew it was better than whatever pain he would feel when they eased him off of everything, but hopefully he wouldn’t remember all this.
“Sleep,” Eddie said, his hand managing to find Steve’s and tugging weakly on it.
“I can’t sleep here, Eds. This is your bed.”
“Our bed.”
Steve’s cheeks were hot, he knew if he touched them, they’d feel like fire. Eddie just had that way of completely rendering Steve speechless. He’d done it so many times over the last couple of days, Steve lost count.
“I’ll stay right here until your uncle gets here, okay?”
“And after?”
It probably wasn’t smart. It would look weird for him to stay in general, but he also had to get the kids home, try to patch himself up at home, maybe shower before he did some rounds and made sure everyone was taken care of.
“I have to take care of the kids.”
“But they have parents.”
“Yeah, well.”
They were interrupted by a knock on the door.
Hopper walked in, face as serious as Steve had ever seen it.
“I was able to contact your uncle, Eddie. You can go now, Steve.”
But Eddie gripped his hand harder, frowning at Hopper. He seemed more awake all of a sudden, but with the way his eyes kept trying to close, Steve could see it was a challenge.
“I want him here.”
“Eds, it’s fine. He’s not too happy with me right now, so-”
“What? Why? You helped save the world.”
Eddie was looking between Steve and Hopper like an answer would suddenly make itself known, but Hopper was just staring at Eddie, and Steve was just staring at his feet.
He didn’t want to get Eddie involved in this. He just wanted to pretend it never happened, maybe try to look Hopper in the eye again someday, and apologize to Joyce for not keeping the kids as safe as he could have.
But Eddie apparently took the “no running” thing very seriously now.
“Steve? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just. I kinda let them down, didn’t keep everyone safe.”
Steve shrugged it off, but he knew he wasn’t very convincing, or really even shrugging it off. He still felt the ache of disappointing people in his chest.
“Hold the fuck up. You’re serious?”
Eddie sounded as outraged as someone high on morphine could. His voice was barely distorted by the oxygen mask on his face, and his eyes were nearly at their normal size.
Steve couldn’t look at either of them.
“Steve is trusted by all these parents to keep their kids out of danger, and he brought them headfirst into it. It just made Joyce and I wonder how often they were doing stupid things,” Hopper explained, though he didn’t even sound convinced he believed his own words.
Joyce was walking in just as Eddie was about to speak.
“Steve, I think you should bring Dustin home. Claudia is going to get worried.”
He didn’t need to look up to know that Eddie was glaring at Joyce and Hopper.
“Let me get this straight. Steve provides free rides, and babysitting services, and meals, and fun for your kids damn near every day. He protects them during this shit every time it happens, literally puts his body on the line to keep them alive. Tried to somehow keep them as safe as possible when it seemed like the world was ending this time, did keep them alive, and you’re still finding reasons to blame him?”
They both had the decency to at least look like they regretted it.
But they still didn’t say anything.
“Fuck this. I’m not gonna pretend to know everything about your little Upside Down Club, but I’m in it now. None of us wanna be here, but we are. Steve’s been doing his best for years, since he was a kid, and all you can do is complain that your sweet angels aren’t completely unscathed? This is a team effort, you know that. They volunteered. Steve would have had to lock them in a prison cell for them not to help.”
Steve looked up at Eddie, watched as he started to lose the fire that had overtaken him temporarily, his eyes dulling as the morphine dripped into his veins and flushed through his system.
“Best damn babysitter…” Eddie mumbled as his eyes fell closed.
Steve watched him for a moment, waiting to see if he suddenly woke up again. When he didn’t, he stood up slowly, didn’t want to risk him feeling the bed move, and made his way to the door.
But something hurt in his chest, something he knew wouldn’t go away unless he said something.
He turned to see Hopper and Joyce staring at each other, having a silent conversation.
“I’m used to disappointing people. I’ve been disappointing my parents my whole life. Disappointed friends, Nancy, bosses. But I have never let those kids down. I do my best with them. I try to be there for them the way I wish someone had been there for me. I make sure they’re kids because life handed them a shitty card or whatever and they deserve to still be kids. You can be mad at me if you want, but I know I did my best. They know I did my best.”
He didn’t wait for a response, didn’t want to hear them say anything else about how wrong his decisions were.
But Joyce stopped him from leaving the room, hand on his arm.
“Steve, wait. Honey, I’m sorry. I think…I think we got caught up in the moment and just needed someone to blame.”
“You do the best you can. We know you do a lot for them.”
It was nice to hear, but he couldn’t get over the uncomfortable itch in the back of his head that he deserved more than that.
“Thanks, but I don’t think I can accept the apology right now.” And then the anger really set in. It came over him so fast, he could feel his hands shaking. “A lot of things are out of our control. We all wanna blame someone for this stuff, but it just boils down to the same people over and over. Max is in a coma because of Henry Creel, not me. Eddie is in the hospital because of demon bats, not me. Eleven and Will are connected to the Upside Down because of the government, not me. I’m just trying to be whatever they need, and that’s better than I can say for either of you at this point.” Steve left this time, Joyce dropping her hand from his arm halfway through his loud speech.
Okay, he was yelling.
But Eddie slept through it, and it felt good to get all of that out.
He made his way to the waiting room, hoping everyone would still be there so he could check in.
Everything felt too fresh, too much like Vecna could show back up and take any of them at any moment.
But the waiting room was empty, not even Dustin remained.
Steve did his best not to panic. Their parents had all been contacted, so they most likely had just been picked up and brought home.
“They’ve all been picked up, sugar,” an older nurse said from the front desk.
“Oh. Thanks.”
“They left you a note, though.”
He recognized her as the woman who had been here the whole night, handling phone calls and people walking in like she’d been doing this for decades. Maybe she had been.
He walked over and grabbed it from her, giving her a small smile in thanks.
He walked outside before he opened it, not sure why he was suddenly nervous.
But as he read, he felt tears in his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that night.
Steve- Go home and sleep. We’ll be okay for a day while you rest. You don’t ever do that. We don’t agree with Joyce and Hopper, and we hope you know you’re the best damn babysitter ever. Love, Dustin, Lucas, Erica, El, Will, Mike, and Max (if she could)
He folded up the note, put it in his pocket, and walked to his car.
He ignored the blood in the backseat, rolled his windows down to ignore the stench of iron.
Knew he would be spending most of his day tomorrow trying to clean the stains out, but figured it would be a good mindless task.
He thought about Eddie, about how quick he was to defend him. About how he’d gripped his hand like it was a lifeline.
It felt that way to Steve.
He hadn’t let Eddie down. He’d saved Eddie.
If he didn’t do anything else right, he’d done that, and nothing Joyce or Hopper said could take that away.
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Au idea: Swap au, Nightmare steve and ancient yellow king swap, reverse steve and positive steve swap, plague steve and demon steve swap, the overseer(Elder Blue form) and negative steve swap
Why am I being asked to consider so many AUs that separate Positive and Negative from each other? Anon, what did Positive and Negative do to deserve this? Lol
Anyway, the idea of Reverse and Overseer being connected is interesting. I’m gonna take a page from Rainbow Quest and suggest an AU where maybe Overseer is the first Elder Blue and Reverse is the first Rainbow Steve. They were besties and worked together to better Steves society before something bad happened to them both, causing them to be like Positive and Negative in this AU.
Thank you for the ask, anon!
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lokischambermaid · 5 days
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Captain’s Orders - Steve x YN 🍆⛓️🥰
Summary: You ask Steve Rogers to overpower you. He does, in his old-fashioned way.
Contains: Dom Steve pretending to be something between an asshole 1940s husband and an army general. Dub-con if you squint. Cuddly aftercare.
Warnings: Strong kinky themes from the outset. Consensual abuse of power and physical strength (may trigger). References to slapping. Intense verbal degradation. Outdated gender roles and misogyny – the feminism will leave your body, you have been warned.
Words: 2,200
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“How do you feel about spanking?”
A furrowed brow looked up over his mission report. “Giving or receiving?”
“You. Spanking me.”
“Oh.”
“What do you think?”
“No. I can’t do that.” Matter of fact in his tone, he continued reading. “I’m sorry.”
“What can you do?”
He placed the papers down on the table, looking at you with the stern authoritarian expression you had grown to love. “What’s this about?” He ended his question with your name. You loved the way it sounded when he said your name.
“I mean…. we’re always very…. athletic…. in bed. And I love that. I do. I guess I just want to switch things up a bit.”
“Huh.” He stood, perching his ass on the side of the boardroom table. “And what’s it about, really?”
“Being overpowered by you.” You bit your lip.
“Got it. You want me to be a dominant?”
You frowned. “How do you know about that?”
“Loki and I have had some… interesting conversations over the years.” He smirked, recalling the delicious tales the Asgardian gifted him with over a beer of a Sunday morning.
“Now see that,” you gestured, pointedly, “is something I would love to hear more about.”
His throat scoffed out a laugh, looking away from you and smiling. “I’m sure you would.” He looked back, cocking his head towards himself, his tone soft and affectionate. “Come ‘ere.”
You walked to him, raising your shoulders meekly, your cheeks dimpling with a smile, causing him to blush. You walked around the table cautiously, dragging a fingertip along the wood. When you reached him, you stood in between wide open thighs. He placed a hand on your lower back to pull you closer. “Look, I’m…. I’m not gonna hurt ya. Even if it’s just pretend.” You pouted at his words. “But….” a finger raised, “I can meet you halfway.”
“Oh yeah?” You squinted at him in playful challenge. “And how do you propose to do that?”
“Well, err….” He scratched the back of his head and looked down, as though he were committing a sin for even thinking about it. “I could, umm…. I could, I suppose….” It felt wrong. So wrong. He was gifted his strength to use for good. And only for good. This wasn’t honourable. Maybe that’s why his jeans tightened at the thought. He raised his chin up confidently, exposing his muscular neck. “I could overpower you. Physically.”
Oh God…..
He noticed you swallow. He might be old-fashioned, but he could take a hint. He ran with this new persona. “I could use my strength. Pin you down so you…. so you couldn’t move.”
“Mmm hmm,” you mustered a noise. “And what else?”
“I c-could - ” He pause to find his poise. “I would give orders. And you would take my lead.”
“You would do that for me?”
He leaned down, brushing hair from your flushed skin, whispering. “You know I might even enjoy it.”
You glanced at the boardroom table.
“Not here, though.”
“Your bedroom, Captain?”
He blushed, biting his lip before looking up and regaining his authority. “My bedroom, Ma’am. 08:00 sharp.”
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“You will obey my orders. You will address me as Captain, or Captain Rogers only. Is that clear?”
“Yes Captain.” You sat on the edge of his bed as instructed, your hands resting daintily in your lap.
“Good.” He walked around the bed, glancing at your back, testing the waters in this new play.
You had talked about it. He couldn’t use any force, no matter how much you craved it. He could hurt you. Really hurt you. So he would have to use his words.
You wanted to feel smaller than him. He had an idea of how he could achieve that. It was more psychological than physical. He thought it safer. He only prayed that he wasn’t crossing a line.
It was time to test how far he could push that boundary.
“And…. we’ll have none of that 2020’s women’s rights nonsense. Got it?”
God this feels so wrong yet so right…..
“Y-yes Captain.”
“Where’s a woman’s place?” He paced around you, slowly. As instructed, you didn’t look up.
“I-In the kitchen, Captain Rogers?” Your tone up-ticked at the end, posing a question.
“That’s right Ma’am.” He leaned down, hands on his knees, smirking. You felt a firm hand grab your chin, lifting your gaze up to his sightline. “And there’s nowhere else a pretty face like you should be. Just the kitchen, and the bedroom. You got it?”
“Y-yes.”
“Yes what?” He cocked his head. The steely look in his eyes made you question if he was about to deliver a strong back hand. Steve Rogers would never. But imagining he could….
“Y-yes Captain.”
“Good girl.” He began to unbuckle the belt of his jeans, his back to you now, athletic ass giving you a show. “Lay down on the bed.”
“Yes Captain.” You shifted back over the top of the duvet, laying down flat on your back, hands on your stomach. You swallowed, hard.
“Take off your panties. Place them on the floor. Keep your dress on.”
“Yes Captain.”
He turned, cock in his hand, pleasuring himself to the sight of you. “You’re such a good fuckin’ girl.”
The bed dipped as he kneeled on it. In moments, he was on top of you, knees either side of your hips. “Hands up.”
You placed them up in surrender, almost wanting to giggle. He nearly broke character, his lips quirking at the corners. He folded his arms, hard cock bobbing beneath him. “Place your hands above your head, Ma’am.”
“Yes Captain….”
He leaned down, placing his hand around your wrists. He began to add pressure. Whispering, he asked, “Is that okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you move?”
You tried. You couldn’t. You shook your head.
“Good. Is it enough, sweetie?”
“You can… you can squeeze a little harder if you like, Steve.”
He added a little pressure. “Like this?”
“Yeah…”
“Okay. Ready?” He cleared his throat and dropped back into the character of the wartime misogynist. He sat upright, towering above you. “You can’t move, beautiful. And you’re not gonna.” He took his cock in his hand and stroked himself, more vigorously this time. “You’re gonna do exactly what I say. And you know why that is?”
“B-because you’re in charge, Captain Rogers.”
His heart swelled. So did his cock. “You got that right, sweet cheeks.” Firm hands pressed into the mattress as he lowered himself down. He squeezed his knees around you. “You’re not gonna come. You’re not gonna move. You’re not gonna so much as speak, unless you’re spoken to. You got it?”
Miraculously, you squeaked out a response. “Y-yeah.”
“Good girl. My… my pretty, stupid little girl.”
Your Steve valued your intelligence. Your wit. Your strength. Your independence. But this Steve? This Steve treated you as though you were a brainless cock-drunk moron.
And you didn’t hate it.
Your two active brain cells were jolted together by the sensation of Steve entering you, firmly thrusting into you without warning. He wasn’t harsh. But he wasn’t gentle, either. His brows knitted together, lips mouthing You okay? You nodded.
He thrust in and out of you, the punishing grip of his knees on the sides of your thighs never relenting, pinning you in place. You anticipated nothing but groans and ragged gasps. But Steve had another treat in store. As his hips bucked back and forth, cock entering you like a piston, jeans slung low over his hips, he asked you a series of questions.
“Who’s the leader of the Avengers?” His head tilted back, creases forming around his eyes as he squeezed his lids tight shut.
“You are, Captain.”
“Who’s in ch-charge?” He grunted after the last word.
“Y-you are, Captain.”
“Who’s gonna…. oh god…..” He eyelids flashed open for a second, eyes rolled back, out of it. “And who’s gonna rail you like you’ve never been r-railed?”
“You are, Captain.”
“You’re damn right.” He leaned down over you, one hand releasing your wrists to adjust the roll of his shirt sleeves. His forearms flexed in the process, before returning his grip around your delicate slim wrists.
Despite your best efforts to obey, you reached up and grabbed a handful of his shoulder, the muscle moving underneath your touch as he rocked back and forth into you, his arm trembling with the force of holding up his own body weight. Underneath his dress shirt, his abs flexed.
Not that you could see them.
You whined in frustration.
“So dumb you can’t even follow orders, huh? Even a slutty army secretary can do that.”
You bit your lip. Being verbally degraded by Steve Rogers was everything.
You felt heat rise in your cheeks, snaking its way through your body and having no escape other than through your lips. You moaned again. “Pl-please. Please, Steve.”
“Please… what?” He squeezed your wrist to punctuate his point.
“Please, Captain.”
“Captain who?”
“Captain Rogers. Please.”
“No. Wait for my word. Got it?” His tone remained authoritative, yet hopeful. He wasn’t going to drag this out. You were grateful. But it wasn’t mercy. He craved his release as much as you. His thighs trembled with the force of holding back the torrent of release he had inside for you.
“G-god….” He groaned, chest heaving, continuing the rhythmic movement of his hips.
“Pl-please…. I can’t…. I can’t….”
And you really couldn’t. You bit down on your lip, harder this time. Mercifully, he gave his command.
“I need you to come. That’s an order.”
You obeyed, relaxing fully and feeling the warmth of climax rush through your veins, pleasure exploding in every cell of your being. The Captain’s breath came in sharp through his lips, exhaling just as abruptly, as he began to come inside of you. He groaned. Long, needy, desperate. You watched as he came undone, feeling as though your stomach had dropped right out of your body.
As his form became weak from release, he lowered himself to his elbows, your wrists long since surrendered from his unrelenting grip. His head remained bowed. In prayer, or in surrender, you weren’t sure. You stroked his back, obscenely strong back muscles rippling under your loving touch. You didn’t realise until he spoke, but he maintained his charade as the dominant army general.
“Is there anything I can get you, baby?” You asked sweetly.
“Yeah.” He had one last demand before he pulled out of you. “Make me a sandwich.”
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“I went too far didn’t I? With the 1940’s thing?” A half hour later, you cuddled with him on the sofa, roles returning to reality, all masks long-since dropped.
“The feminism left my body for a second there, not gonna lie.”
“God, I knew I went too far.” He shook his head, berating himself, hand pressed firm over his mouth as though he were preventing any insulting words from spilling out.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m just gonna kick your ass at training tomorrow, that’s all.”
“That’s fair.” He chewed on his lip. “You know, I had no idea I could be such an asshole.”
“It was probably very therapeutic for you.” You looked over your shoulder at him. He looked down, lovingly, drawing circles over your thighs. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time.”
“Yeah. But it doesn’t make it right.”
“Oh well. As long as you know your place, Captain.”
He blushed.
“Where is your place, Captain?” you challenged.
“Underneath you.” You yelped as he lay back and pulled you on top of him.
“No! I gotta go….” Palms pressed flat on his chest as you pushed yourself up.
“Hang on. Where you going?” He sat up on his elbows, a forlorn expression etched into his handsome features.
You glanced over your shoulder with all the confidence of a woman who had been deliciously fucked and verbally degraded by a living legend. “You’ll see.”
You disappeared around the corner into the galley of the kitchen. Steve had his suspicions. He hoped he was wrong. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth as his sat in the large sectional sofa in the middle of the open-plan kitchen space, one arm wrapped around his middle, the other lifted, propping up his chin on his fist. The backs of his knuckles grazed his lips roughly. You emerged five minutes later, presenting a plate to him before walking around the sofa behind him, reaching down to touch him literally anywhere.
You whispered in his ear, hands placed on his shoulders, coquettishly running your palms down his pecs. “Prosciutto and English mustard on rye. Just how you like it.”
He held the plate aloft as though it didn’t belong to him. “Honey I really didn’t mean…”
“I know you didn’t. But that’s why I made it. Call it a little thank you for earlier.”
“Alright, alright. But there’s one condition.” Without so much as looking, he lifted his arms up, lowered them into a tricep press position, grabbed you firmly by the waist and flipped you over the back of the sofa and onto his lap. He held the plate firmly in his hands and handed you one half of his sandwich. “On the condition that we share.”
Your sweet, gorgeous, thoughtful Steve was back. You loved it.
And part of you missed the other guy.
“Aw but I made this for you.”
“You did. And we’re gonna share it.” He lowered his gaze seriously as he urged you to take half of the sandwich. His lips pulled up into a smirk before he winked. “Captain’s orders.”
@lokisgoodgirl @fictive-sl0th @flesh--amnesiacunrated @skymoonandstardust @alexakeyloveloki @cabingrlandrandomcrap @cakesandtom @mrs-illyrian-baby @muddyorbsblr @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @glitchquake @dangertoozmanykids101 @animnerd @wavyhairedvixen @emarich7 @km-ffluv @thegodofnotknowing @simplyholl @acidcasualties @foxherder @salempoe @loz-3 @late-to-the-party-81 @mochie85 @loopsisloops @somewereinthegalaxi
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tennant-the-tigger · 1 year
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Candid Photos: 'Party's Proof'
The party is sick of their lovey-dovey, touchy-feely behavior and wishes them to just get together already. So the kids come up with a plan. Picture proof to show that they are meant to be. After one year of collecting 'the proof', the kids sat Steve and Robin down for an hour-long intervention/presentation. By the end of it, Steve and Robin just looked at each other, both with their eyebrows raised high. Then after a minute of silence, they burst into uncontrollable laughter, leaning against each other.
For the Spring Spicy Six Fanwork Challenge hosted by @thefreakandthehair - prompt for this one was “Candid Photo”
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littledoepeach · 1 month
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early concept sketches for trixie!! my lesbian fitness influencer puppy girl 💖💕
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