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superblysubpar · 10 months ago

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Everyone say thanks to @palmtreesx3 - I owe her and the request for the prompt "we're not really just best friends, are we?"(which isn't even used in this, but you get the picture) and The Breakfast Club for this fic 💛

Sincerely, Yours:

bestfriend!steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: A movie night, a confession, an offer, your Calvin's bunched up on the floor of your best friend's BMW...and other places | my blog and this fic are 18+ Only, NSFW

the song: Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds

words: about 6,600

warnings: "inexperienced" reader - in the form of never really making out/receiving none/not great foreplay | mentions of masturbating for comfort/ease before sex | SMUT (public - in the back of Steve's car - "caught" by Hopper when you're done / oral / fingering / steve cums in his levi's cause I'm a sucker for doing this to him, what can I say?)

He didn’t hear it at first, over the last remaining popping kernels.

“What?” He called around a mouthful of the snack he was already dipping into before it was finished.

In the other room, your attention was strictly on Judd Nelson, but you tried again, with no real power or meaning behind the words.

“Want me to pause it?”

“No,” he shook his head and rolled his eyes to no one but himself in the kitchen, “Don’t think you need to pause the movie I’ve seen three times…this week.”

“I’d love one, thanks!”

Steve snorted at your response that made no sense, it becoming apparent you weren’t listening to him at all. He should have known this was his fate after the way you acted when it was showing at The Hawk. You saw it with him, then Robin, then Nancy, and Steve put his foot down when you tried to drag him down there for a fourth time.

Now here he was, dumping the popcorn into a large bowl and watching it again. He didn’t even know what number of views he was on with you, which had him worried about your sanity, ‘cause you had to be watching it without him too.

Steve snagged two cans of Coke out of the fridge, assuming that’s what you’d love one of, and kicked the door closed with his heel.

He cradled the popcorn bowl against his side and held each of the cans with one hand and spread fingers, socked feet slipping on the hardwoods when he rounded the corner and saw you again.

Despite becoming incredibly bored by the movie, he did love watching you watch it, because somehow, it’s as if you’re watching it for the first time every time.

Your white tube socks were stark against the dark wood of the coffee table, bunching around your ankles that led him to the exposed skin of your calves. Which led to the way your blue skirt fanned over your thighs all nice, then the Queen shirt he got you for your birthday tucked into it, your thumb between your teeth with your eyebrows bunched together.

His best friend was really fucking pretty.

He almost said it out loud, which had him flopping onto the couch a little quickly, a little too heavy with his fall. Careless in his aim of the cushion and causing popcorn to spill from the bowl into your lap as his shoulder jostled yours.

Before he could even say sorry, you were grabbing the popcorn from your lap like it was the bowl, blissfully unaware it wasn’t, all the while making heart eyes at dreamy Bender.

“Thanks,” your appreciation came out heavy around the buttery and salty handful of the snack, the Coke you’d love sitting on the coffee table, already forgotten.

Steve hummed, his amused lips twitched in a losing fight against a smile at your captivated stare fixated on the screen. He suppressed an eye roll at the scene about to happen, as he swiped condensation off the cool metal of the can with his thumb.

He popped the drink open with a loud hiss, slurping his first sip - a habit you’d normally swat at his chest for - but you were too busy focusing on the words about to leave Judd’s mouth.

“Have you ever kissed a boy on the mouth?”

They sort of just tumbled out of Steve too, while his eyes glanced over the popcorn bowl, searching for a perfectly buttery piece. Which is why he didn’t see that he, your best friend, quoting the scene that has dialogue that got you all hot and bothered more than others, had your entire body freezing.

Steve tossed the acquired piece into the air, catching it in his mouth before he turned to face your profile. He found you with widened eyes, chest rising and falling a little too quickly, and he grinned.

“Have you ever been felt up…over the bra…under the blouse…your shoes off, hoping to god your parents don’t walk in?”

He’s simply delighted when he quotes the scene again and your body shifts, toes curling as you arched your neck away from. You kept your eyes on the screen, not giving him the satisfaction of eye contact because of what he was slowly, finally, realizing.

You were totally turned on and he couldn’t wait to tease you about it forever.

Steve leaned in closer, whispering along with the movie, “Over the panties…no bra…blouse unbuttoned…Calvin’s in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?”

He’s gearing up, about to tease you, make some dumb boy comment about being hot for the school freak, when your quiet, barely a breath response had him pausing.

“No.”

Did you just say that out loud?!

Your head turned to find Steve blinking at you, creases in his forehead deepening beneath the stray locks of hair that fell forward.

Looks like you did.

“Ste-”

“What? What do you mean no?”

Your eyes closed when you both spoke at the same time, avoiding his curious stare. Hands roamed to your cheeks to hide your face as your head fell towards your knees.

As you shook your head no, your response gets muffled into your skirt. “I meant no.”

Steve’s hand nudged at your shoulder, prodding for clarity and for you to sit up. He failed to sound casual when his question came out incredulously.

“No, you’ve never kissed a guy?”

Your hands still covered your face as you fell back against the couch with a groan, “No, I..I have. I just…”

Steve pulled at your hands, his heart racing like it was overtime. All these years, he thought you’d been with all these other guys, his quiet jealousy seething under the surface of his tinged green from envy skin.

A breath, well, more of a huff really, slipped past your lips as your gaze dropped to the hands holding yours in your lap. “I’ve never really made out with anyone? Just like…a quick kiss or two. I don’t even know, can you even count it as kissing? Over before it starts kind of thing…”

The ramble trailed off, the room silent save for the movie still playing and the giant, loud, big, fat, zero response from Steve. You counted the threads in the carpet, the pieces of popcorn in the bowl as your skin grew hotter and hotter from the reveal he’s left just hanging there until he finally sputtered out a sorry excuse for one.

“Are you shitting me? We’re like…old.”

It doesn’t come out how he meant it to at all, he’s just shocked. He’s wincing almost immediately as the words reach his ears and brain, he knows how it sounded. He wishes he could take it back when your head whips up, hurt eyes meeting his as you ripped your hands away from him.

“Yeah, Steve,” you scoffed, jaw pulsing as your voice dripped with sarcasm that tried to cover the embarrassment, “I’m shitting you. Thought it’d be real funny to trick you into thinking your best friend is a loser who’s barely been kissed even though she’s so old.”

Pieces of popcorn fell from your lap as you stood, not letting yourself wonder where they came from as you stomped around the coffee table and towards his entryway.

“No, honey, wait-” he stumbled after you, spilling Coke down the front of his shirt as he did, “Shit.”

He patted at his chest like it’d do anything, shirt damp and sticking to his skin as he rounded the corner and found you lacing up your converse and shaking your head.

“It’s fine, Steve. I’m fine. I just don’t feel like talking about it. I’m gonna go home. Don’t worry about it. Girl stuff.”

“No, please, I didn’t mean-”

His words stopped just as abruptly as your body, when the front door swung open to reveal an out of nowhere downpour.

Your head fell as you started to ask, and he was already one step ahead of you.

“Can you please-”

“I’ll grab my keys.”

He was tripping up his stairs by the time he finished saying it. When he returned, it was in a clean shirt, jumping from the second to last step as he swirled the keys around his pointer finger.

The light blue fabric of his new shirt pulled at his shoulders that hunched when your glare remained unwavering despite the apologetic puppy dog eyes he had going for him.

You understood Steve didn’t mean for the comment to start the hole he was digging, and you knew you weren’t being fair for being so upset. It’s not like it was his fault, it was just your own insecurities manifesting in an anger towards him.

The nagging feeling of being some sort of freak who’d never made out while even the little twerps who clung to Steve were, while your best friend was Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High only grew stronger. The thought of Steve thinking you were some sort of weirdo for being old and never making out had something in your gut churning, had a familiar sting behind your eyes forming that you tried your best to ignore.

When Steve opened his mouth, about to try to make it all better again, you simply turned on your heel and stalked out into the rain. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at the way you stomped through it, pretending to not be drowned.

He quickly rushed behind you and got to the door first and swung it open, to which you rolled your eyes at, but slid in and got comfortable while he closed it for you nonetheless.

Unsure why he went and changed as he raced around the hood and shot into the driver’s seat, totally soaked through to his skin now. He cranked the heat before swiping fingers over his eyes, a large hand ran through his hair and pushed it back only for it to fall into his eyes again. Steve reached over with wet and shaking fingers at the same time you held yours up, both of you pausing and glancing at the other’s hands.

Steve was about to cup your fingers between his and blow warm breath onto them, just like he always did, but you ripped your hands down to your lap, and curled your body against the door, like you needed to be as far from him as you could be.

Your damp forehead touched the cool glass of the window as he sighed, “Please don’t-”

“Just take me home, please?”

The tone in which the words were said has something in his chest breaking. Like you were really fucking sad, embarassed, it was a real plea to just take you home and leave you alone.

So he wasn’t gonna do that, ‘cause he never was a great listener, so why start now?

He pretends though, he backs out of the driveway and heads in the direction of your apartment. He lets the radio fill the space and he turns the heat down when the air inside the car is heavier and warm despite your cold shoulder. The orange glow of the street lights slanted inside the car in a soothing rhythm as his wheels spun over the pavement until he was coming to the last four way stop before your apartment.

It unfolds just as he had planned, when he’s still stopped at the deserted intersection, as your breath fogged up the glass when you asked, “Harrington, you planning on leaving the intersection anytime soon?”

His bottom lip wobbled as his teeth continued to press into it, thick fingers rubbing at a scruff dotted jaw as he thought out loud in an attempt to sway you.

“Well, you see, I could go straight and take you home-” he started.

“Right. Let’s do that.” You waved your hand towards the direction of the apartment that held the ice cream you were desperate to eat and wallow with while watching Pretty In Pink.

“Or,” Steve interrupted right back, tapping on the steering wheel with his finger as he did, “I could go to the right. Pull into the diner. Buy you a milkshake and say sorry?”

The thing was, he was gonna go to the right regardless of your answer. He knew once you pulled into the parking lot there was no way you’d not at least go in and get fries and a shake, if not a whole burger. You’d done this dance before, him putting his foot in his mouth was not a new occurrence.

Your lips twitched, but your arms stayed crossed as he hummed and whispered, “Tough choice…tough choice…”

Shoulders fell in defeat, but your mouth stayed downturned in a forced frown as you grumbled, “And fries.”

Steve smiled, turned on his blinker and nodded. He cleared his throat.

“And fries. Definitely.”

“And none of that you order yourself a vanilla shake and I order strawberry and you drink half of mine because it’s better and eat all the fries shit.”

“Of course,” Steve scoffed, “I would never do that.”

Steve slipped his straw into your shake, pulling the glass across the sticky tabletop as you did the same with his. He tried not to smirk around the straw when you did, dipping a fry in his vanilla he ordered for a reason despite the strawberry being better.

“Do you think Claire is a prude for never doing anything?”

He shook his head no almost immediately, swiping at stray ice cream from the corner of his mouth with his tongue.

You fiddled with the straw wrapped between your fingers and narrowed your eyes at him.

“Would your answer be the same if, say, Eddie was sitting here asking you? Not me, your best friend, who you have sudden pity for?”

He blinked at you and sighed, “I don’t have pity for you.”

“Your mouth and your eyes are telling two different stories Harrington,” you waved a fry at him as you spoke, gesturing to his face with it.

Your gaze stayed on the fry you were ripping in half, focused on watching it sink into the sweet vanilla as he dared to say, “I just don’t get it.”

“What, that I haven’t done that and I’m so old,” you tried to tease, to move past it.

But the way you were licking salt off your finger had him wondering if he swiped his own through the salt on the tray and pushed the pad against your lips if they would part like they were now, if he could taste it on your lips if he just leaned forward and-

“No, ‘cause you’re so fucking pretty.”

He definitely said it out loud that time.

You blinked at him, cheeks suddenly too warm for the cold and damp Spring that had been surrounding you all day.

“Ste-”

“And so smart,” he licked his lips, leaning forward, unable to stop now that it was out, “And funny. And…and sweet, you’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know, I just don’t understand how guys aren’t falling over themselves, unable to do anything but make out with you, or more or-”

“I never said I didn’t do more,” you whispered, ignoring all of his compliments that made your chest feel all tight and sticky and choosing to argue with him instead because that was easier.

“But you said…if you haven’t made out with anyone…”

Your body slipped lower against the squeaky seat, embarrassed as you shrugged and Steve felt too hot in the tiny little booth, thinking about all those guys’ hands on you again, and then what you said, what it meant, really clicked.

“Hold on…how…how’d…you didn’t, build up to it?” He asked softly, eyes bouncing over your face with worry.

“Steve,” you grabbed for the other shake, and sat up straighter, “We don’t need to talk about this. It’s not import-”

“It’s so important,” he grabbed your hand and squeezed your fingers lightly, “Half the fun is all the build up to it. And,” he swallowed, forehead creasing with deeper worry, “And then it, it doesn’t hurt. ��Cause tell me if I’m wrong, but if they weren’t making out with you, were they doing anything to make sure you felt good?”

You squirmed in your seat, fingers pushing up against his mindlessly, aimlessly, as you shrugged again. “It’s only hurt a few times. I learned that if I…um, If I got myself ready beforehand, that I was, uh, more comfortable.”

Steve’s fingers let go of yours with the excuse of grabbing a fry, because he was trying not to be a gross guy, but all he could think about was you in your bedroom, with your fingers between your thighs now. Did you play music? What song? Did you have underwear on? What color? With a shirt that your nipples were visibly hard through as you touched yourself and maybe it was his shirt or maybe you said his name or-

“Right,” Steve nodded, “Um, right. And that’s great, lots of people do that for a date, so like if you need or want to beforehand that’s not…that’s great. It just shouldn’t be the only thing, you know? They should be putting in the work, they should be wanting to. And dates! They should watch a movie with you, and dinner and drive around and then kiss so much you feel dizzy and then if you want, more.”

He finished his rambling speech and you smiled softly, unsure of what to say, because you knew he wasn’t wrong, it’s just that they had.

“They did,” you sighed, “Well, not Paul.”

Steve scowled at the table, “Yeah, well, I’m sure you weren’t missing much. Who wants to yell out Paul?”

“Oh,” you laughed, “And Steve is so much better?”

He looked up at you, your smile sweet and kind and your eyes a little sad, but trying not to be and he wanted to say yes. He wanted to tell you that if it was those lips and that voice saying it, it was better, because how could it not be? Like his name only had the best letters, like it belonged to the best guy in the world, one that belonged to you and no one else.

But you were swiping at ice cream on your lips and sighing, saying something that made his chest ache instead.

“They were nice dates. And it’s not like the sex was bad. But,” you looked out the window, eyes tracking the droplets of rain twinged neon from the light hanging above you both, “The kissing till I’m dizzy sounds nice. Is it…is it fun?”

“Yeah,” Steve whispered, admiring the way the red and blue lit up your profile before you turned to face him.

And then he was saying something before he really thought it through, because god you weren’t just fucking pretty, you were the most beautiful person he’d ever met and no way in hell was he letting anyone treat you the way you’d been ever again. So this was his chance, and he was taking the leap.

“I could…” he blew out a breath and smiled. He sat up straighter, and he searched for some sort of lingering king steve confidence he could latch onto without all the douche as he asked, “I could show you?”

To both of your surprise, you’d said yes, and he paid and you were in the car, driving, and parked somewhere in what felt like seconds. Now your best friend sat across from you, both of you facing the center console, but not daring to do more.

The rain beat against the roof of the maroon car, each drop a punctuated tick of a nonexistent clock - a meter for how much time was passing without movement, without words. Just both of your breathing filled the space. First exhaling, then desperately inhaling for more air as your chests rose and fell ragged. And then, like in some unspoken agreement only best friends can have, you both started to lean forward cause you just knew.

Your heart’s thrum threatened to drown out the rain, building and building, screaming to break out of your chest, pounding in your ears while your cheeks grew warm and your stomach dipped as Steve’s tongue slipped out quickly and wetted his lips.

But then he leaned and his eyes started to close and you giggled, fingers slipping over your lips as his eyelids shot open.

“Sorry,” you gasped and shook your head and your hands out as you tried to be serious, “Your ‘I’m about to kiss you’ face is real cute, Harrington.”

Tried being the definitive word.

“Cute?” He groaned, smiling, “Not sexy?”

You leaned in, faster this time, a smile matching his as you shrugged, “It’s nice. Never thought I’d be on the opposite side of it, is all.”

It’s easy to tilt your head and welcome the hand that reached up to cradle your jaw as he softly promised, “Your ‘I’m about to be kissed face’ is really cute too.”

The pad of his thumb brushed over the apple of your cheek in the tenderest touch you’d ever felt, before his fingers curled under your jaw and tilted you gently, slowly, up so his lips were right over yours.

It felt like he was handling you like the most precious and fragile thing, like a prized possession that he’d only ever hold with care and never let another soul touch.

His breath fanned over yours, warm and sweet smelling, vanilla and cherry just out of reach for you to taste as you dared to quip back again. “Alright, I’m gonna have to cross reference these lines with other girls you’ve promised to make dizzy, Harrington, cause if that’s the first time you’ve used that, I’m afraid it’s far too smooth…”

Steve’s heart felt like it was trying to claw out of his chest as you laughed, smiling at him when he responded, “And, I think that’s enough out of you.”

Which you couldn’t help but reply back to with, “Yeah? Have some fancy trick to get me to stop talking?”

He laughed, low, muffled and deep in his chest. “A few.”

A sharp inhale slipped past your lips when his nose bumps yours, not realizing how close he’d gotten while you joked back and forth nervously. There wasn’t a protocol on how to let your best show you a proper make out, on how to just dive in and start, you just knew you wanted to.

Steve’s swallow bobbed his adams apple as the leather beneath you creaked from shifting weight, needing to get closer. And as you did, his eyes found yours, mossy and dark in the low light, the browns and golds washed away in the rain. Their gaze flitted down to your lips, back up to fluttering eyelashes, and then his own eyelids were closing.

All it took was another breath in, an exhale out, and his lips were on yours. A simple, slow press, holding your top lip between the both of his. Strawberry and vanilla teasing you, and soon he was moving, now bottom lip between his and you got it. Your mouths parted together, lips slotting in a rhythm that came naturally, that clicked.

Something in your stomach fizzled and crackled like the sparklers you lit every year in his driveway on the fourth as the sigh from his nose hit your cheek. Body warm and sticky in a way that was usually reserved for Summer when his fingers skated over your jaw, up and around your ear, until they were cradling the back of your neck and pulling you closer. His mouth moved with yours in a way that could only be described as frantically graceful - needing more, hurried, hungry, but with the promise and precision of someone who knew what he was doing. It had your stomach dipping, like a freefall, like the greatest and scariest thing you’d ever felt.

If he’d have opened his eyes, he’d have found you with your hands suspended between your bodies though. Fingers not quite brave enough to reach up and get lost in his hair, but not content to just sit in your lap and do nothing either.

And if you'd opened your eyes, you’d have found his other hand gripping the center console like he was hanging on for dear life. ‘Cause holy shit was he trying to go slow, but kissing you was like chasing the last few minutes of sunlight in July - sweet and fleeting and magic - something you needed to make last, to soak up every last drop of until you couldn’t any more, not by choice, but because the sun has to set and he has to breathe.

In a shared gasp for air, you parted, but his lips were back on yours immediately, making your stomach swoop even more, like an entire family of butterflies had decided - hey, we live here now and we’re gonna make a ruckus so get used to it.

You didn’t mind.

Steve’s fingers found yours and without breaking his rhythm, he tugged, guiding them to his shoulders that were practically on your side of the console now, which wasn’t doing something great to his already somersaulting stomach.

He slowed down as your fingers brushed over and back on the collar of his shirt and his hands cradled both of your cheeks, pulling you off of his lips regretfully. You were both breathing like you’d run a marathon, his forehead pressed to yours as he gasped out, “Dizzy yet?”

“No,” you lied.

He grinned, tip of his nose tracing the bridge of yours as he admitted, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you like that.”

You couldn’t even respond, couldn’t tell him you wanted that too, couldn’t tell him that it was something you only dared let a daydream or two convince you it could happen before you were shutting it down, cause he was still talking.

“And now that I have,” he swallowed, his thumbs glided down opposite sides of your neck as he shook his head, “I’m never stopping.”

Then he was kissing you again, and if you thought he was frantic before…

You had this feeling that even if those other guys had made out with you, kissing them wasn’t and never would be the same as kissing Steve Harrington.

Soon one of your feet was on the seat, the other bracing yourself in the footwell. He had a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck and yours were finally starting to dare to journey past their spot on his shoulders and then your skirt was caught on the gearshift and he was stopping you again.

“Honey, what are you doing?”

“So was that ‘never stopping’ just a nice sentiment or are you planning to back it up with action?” You huffed, distracted by pink lips that twisted into a crooked smile as he looked at your pretzeled body.

Your shoulders fell as you nodded your head towards his side of the car and admitted, “I just want to be closer.”

“Oh, right.” Steve swallowed, and you wondered if it’d be weird if you kissed every freckle and mole you could find on his throat. Something told you he wouldn’t mind when he asked, a little more eager than you’d heard tonight, “Backseat?”

And you clambered out of the car, the slowing rain soothing to heated and flushed skin under the mussed clothes, and then you were both meeting in the backseat, but the nerves returned. The way you both glanced at the space between you and were immediately and acutely aware of the lack of anything between you except doubt and fear. Was this a mistake? What about your friendship?

Steve looked at the space, at you, and then held up his finger in the symbol for one sec as he said, “Hold on,” and half climbed back into the front seat. His torso draped over the console as he loudly opened the glovebox and rummaged around inside, before he was fiddling with the radio, and falling back into the seat.

His cheeks pink, but his smile wide as he looked at you again. “Hey! I’m so glad we could do this tonight. You look beautiful. Ready to watch your favorite movie?”

“Wh-what?” You laughed, totally and utterly confused.

He tugged on your fingers, and pulled you to the middle, until you were slouched next to each other, shoulders touching as he shushed and said, “The Breakfast Club is starting.”

And the music playing over the radio,Simple Minds, a cassette he must have put in, had your chest swelling with something that was sure to burst and explode and kill you, because the boy was actually pretending you were on a couch, on a date, in a living room, watching a movie - it was perfectly Steve and you, and the best first date you’d ever been on.

His left hand picked up yours, resting it on your thigh and played with your fingers. The pads of his traced up and down and over your hand as he stared at the windshield, his temple resting against yours. The music played, and his fingertips swooped between the curves of each finger aimlessly, the sides of his fingers running down yours and back up making it really hard to concentrate on the non-existent flick.

When you finally relaxed into his side, when you flipped your hand over so he could draw little loop de loops on your palm, he quietly asked, “Who’s your favorite?”

“Brian,” said without hesitation.

Steve groaned, in pain, “Ugh, you would like him the best.”

You laughed, turning to look up at him a bit from where your head had fallen to his shoulder, “Don’t knock him Steve,” you spoke softly, fondly, “You’re a lot more of a dork like him than you think.”

Steve made a pft noise, fingers now interlaced with yours as he turned his head, the tip of his nose touching yours as he looked down at you with the sort of look the guys give the girls in the movies, one that should be illegal from the way it had that family of butterflies shouting about their presence again and fluttering around.

“Hey Steve?”

“Hmm?” He hummed, eyelashes fluttering as he sighed when your thumb brushed over his knuckles.

“This is a really great…first date?” You asked, hopeful that it wasn’t just an offer, that you weren’t some game, that the guy next to you was just as crazy about you as you were him.

“Yeah?” He smiled, proud, and then bragged, “Wait till the second one.”

It was your turn to hum, to look into his eyes and get a little lost as his mouth parted and you both scooted closer, waiting, as he squeezed your fingers wrapped around his.

“You’re making the ‘I’m about to kiss you face’ again, Steve,” you whispered, lips brushing his as you did.

“Right,” he whispered back, bottom lip catching yours as he suggested, “Which means you should probably stop talking again.”

This kiss wasn’t as easy and smooth, made difficult by grins of fools who were totally in love but wouldn’t admit it just yet, but how could you both not be after years together?

But you smoothed it out quickly, and soon he was swiping his tongue over your bottom lip as his hand gripped at your waist a little tightly. He traced over your top lip as your entire body turned towards his, like a plant in search of sunlight, his body on yours fundamental to your survival.

He gasped as you straddled him, your mouth swallowing the sound as his hands roamed up your sides, taking the hem of your shirt with it so his fingers could scrape at the skin just under your ribs before they dared to drift along the band of your bra.

You let out a sound that he’d never forget as long as he lived when you finally lowered yourself, skirt fanning over your laps so the sinful way he pressed up against your pristine soaked Calvin’s was slightly hidden. The unclip of your bra and the removal and toss over the seat was fluid, and you couldn’t think about it because the way his hand on your chest felt, the thumb over a pebbled nipple was something you’d only let yourself think about in moments of need before a date that wasn’t him.

Steve was wrong, the build up was more than half the fun.

The way his hands buzzed against your spine like the air after fireworks, the way his tongue brushed yours, the way he couldn’t help but guide your hips to rock against him. Denim hitting cotton in the exact right spot so the nerves underneath it got the friction they were aching for, while your mind ran away from you, thoughts about how this was just getting started. How there was more.

His lips left yours and his smile pressed to your jaw when the action got a soft whimper to fall from you. He tutted into your neck, lips grazing over an erratic pulse as he whispered, “Can I touch you?”

“Is that,” your breath hitched around the words as his tongue licked a thick stripe over your neck that extended, “Is that a part of making me dizzy or the more, when I’m sufficiently so?”

“You’re not yet?” His teeth scraped at where his tongue had just been. “I like when you say words like sufficiently, ‘s’hot.”

You laughed as his lips kissed the same spot, and then he was sucking, skin beneath his tongue warm and sending a message to your brain that you liked that a lot.

“Yeah,” you hiccuped, eyelids fluttering in their view of the car’s roof as you arched and his hands gripped your hips, “Yeah, touch me.”

He didn’t have to be told twice, arm around your waist holding you steady while the other traveled under the hem of your skirt. His mouth moved to below your ear and as his fingers glided up your thigh. He sucked and kissed, and sent that message to your brain again, having you say his name and god’s in the same desperate sentence.

Steve wasn’t gonna last much longer.

Especially when his fingers met the wet cotton and you moaned, so much filthier than he’d have thought possible. Especially when he circled over your clit through the fabric and you rolled your hips with the movement, far dirtier than he thought you were capable of.

“Fuck baby, you’re soaked.” He mouthed at the collar of your rucked up shirt, looking down at the way your hips rolled over his but he couldn’t quite see what was underneath.

You hid in the crook of his neck, hot, and you didn’t know if it was because the windows were fogged and Steve was so fucking good at this or because you were embarassed by how turned on you were from his next words.

“Please, I gotta,” he slipped a finger under the fabric and you shuddered as it ran down your slick and back up, “I gotta taste you. I need to put my mouth on you. Let me make you feel good, yeah?”

You were on your back, Calvin’s in a ball on the front seat, with Steve crouched between your thighs not even a minute later.

Thick fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt from his spot, blown out pupils taking over his stare up at you. One of your converse pushed to the other side of the car against the door as your fingers curled around the base of the sweating window above you.

Steve kissed your knee, and made his way higher between your legs slowly, until he was flipping your skirt up and swallowing as he stared at the space like it was a fucking artwork.

You giggled, nervously under the intense awestruck stare, squeezing your eyes shut as he strained to get out, “Fuck, honey, you’re trying to kill me.”

He was mesmerized, the way you clenched around nothing, his thumbs spreading you so he could see just how wet you were for him.

He was really not gonna last much longer. Straining in his jeans painfully like a teenager.

And that was before you whimpered, before you said:

“Steve, please.”

“Only,” he swallowed, leaning down so his breath hit your cunt in a way that had your hips wiggling, and him closing his eyes, “Only cause you asked so nicely.”

His thumbs held you open, massaging the sides as his tongue licked once, slow and broad, following the path of his nose up to your clit. He did it again, and again, and again. Until his fingers were slipping inside of you, pumping in and out of walls that held him tightly and his mouth sucked at your clit. Then you tugged, forcefully at the curls at the back of his head and practically screamed his name. Like it was full of only the best letters. Like it was yours.

Your stomach burned, the butterflies angry and in your chest now too, on fire, but happy about it. Steve’s fingers inside of you and mouth on your clit better than any orgasm you’d ever had, and you couldn’t help it when you came without warning, toes curling inside of your converse that kicked at the door and his thigh, while your fingers slipped on the window and your chest ached for a breath as it yelled his name in a way that the whole world would have to know how you felt when they heard it.

He didn’t pull away until you were gasping and your thighs were shaking and your fingers loosened in his hair. His cheek pressed to your thigh as he stared up at you and gasped out a proud, smug, “I’d like to see Bender of Brian do that.”

You laughed, tired, but happy, and he crawled up your body, kissing any part of it he could find while he ignored the uncomfortable wet patch in the front of his Levi’s.

Except you noticed and raised your eyebrows at it, a little smug yourself as you said, “Bet Claire couldn’t do that.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but then you were both flinching as a loud smack of something hit the back window. He glanced up and cursed under his breath, rolling down the window slightly as he called out from on top of you, “Hey, Hop.”

There was a loud, deep, sigh from outside as you both sat up with apologetic faces and Steve rolled down the window further.

Hopper’s cigarette smoke wafted in as he looked at the pair of you with a touch of surprise when he saw it was you next to Steve in the fogged up beemer. He shook his head, frown under the mustache forced. “It’s past eleven. On a weeknight. Have some decency and do this at home in front of a movie like normal people next time, yeah?”

You both nodded, your teeth pulling at your lip in a terrible attempt at not smiling.

He walked away, and you and Steve slapped hands over each other’s laughs and snorts, but you still managed to catch the quiet, “Bout damn time.”

And when Steve dropped you off at home, with a kiss to seal it all and a promise of a real date tomorrow that he’d pick you up for, you shoved the bunched up Calvin’s in his front pocket with your own promise, whispering in his ear the words “Sincerely, yours” before you left him with his mouth open on the front steps, watching you walk away.

*if you liked this fic, the minor follow up is: Risky Business

#superbly subpars writing #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic

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jungkookstatts · 1 year ago

Text

What We Need

[Summary]: You and Jungkook are polar opposites. Except in the bedroom. You two agreed to just sex after breaking up, realizing that your personalities weren't working in the dating world. But the world has warned you that fuckbuddies never truly stay as fuckbuddies.

[Theme]: Non Idol AU, Ex's AU, Fuckbuddies AU, Enemies to Lovers(?) AU

[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes and innuendoes. Spanking, marking, kissing, nasty time. Demon JK.

[Word Count]: 2,143

[A/N]: I am filthy, sorry ㅠㅠ.

This is a constant cycle.

You get horny. You text him. He comes over. He fucks your brains out. He leaves.

Or, vice versa.

This is something you both agreed on a while ago.

Dating didn’t work out for the two of you. You tried, but your personalities clash in the worst possible way. He’s too reactive — everything was either offensive or annoying to him. Especially when it came to jealousy. The man couldn’t stand just a look from another man in your direction. It blew all his fuses, and cut your own short just trying to understand him. On the other side, you hated talking about anything at all. Half of his reaction came from the fact that you couldn’t explain why you were angry about it. It left both of you frustrated. You felt he should have known without you having to explain the obvious, and he felt that his feelings and reactions were valid, even if it was over just a small issue.

Just about the only thing you both agreed on was sex. After you broke up, the two of you couldn’t deny that no one else matched up to the way you two fucked. You tried another partner, but he couldn’t give you the same satisfaction that Jungkook gave you. Apparently, Jungkook was in the same boat.

Putting all your hatred for the man beside you, there’s no denying how attracted you are to each other and how well you two click in the bedroom. That’s obvious now more than ever, in the depths of his sheets, with his mouth on your clit and your fingers tugging on his hair.

“Ffuckk,” you cry, pulling on his locks.

The man beneath you simply grips your hips tighter, digging his fingers into your skin. He’ll surely leave marks, and you smile knowing that he knew you’d like that.

Jungkook moans into your pussy, his tongue delving into you every so often before he swirls around your clit in the way you like. The hotness of his tongue fills you with a fuzzy warmth at the pit of your stomach with every movement, moan, and grip he enforces onto your body. He’s been at it for 10 minutes, eating you like you’re Thanksgiving dinner. There are juices dripping from his chin onto the hardwood floor, but he doesn’t care. He’s determined to make you reach another high. He’ll make it happen, and you know it.

You almost feel yourself there, and you try to pull his head away at the feeling. But he’s too strong for you; your efforts are completely fruitless against his torture.

“K-Kook,” you gasp, scared of the orgasm you feel looming over you. “T-too much.”

He simply shakes his head, knowing you can take it. He hums against you, adding two fingers into you, and curling them upwards into your g-spot while focusing all his tongue technology on your clit.

This seems to do it, and he moans into you when you cum for him, spilling out onto his fingers just the way he likes it. You cum saying his name over and over again, sending him into a praise-kink frenzy with the way you chant his name like it’s the only word you know.

Jungkook pulls away from you, and quickly takes off his black Calvins before he rests a knee on the bed. You shiver at the cold air hitting your pussy, a stark difference from the fire that his tongue played over your folds just moments ago.

“You good?” he asks, wiping your juices from his mouth with the back of his forearm. He pumps his dick for a second, feeling dominant knowing he got your body to look as fucked out as it looks below him.

You catch your breath for a few moments, placing your arm over your eyes as you pant into the air. You hear Jungkook laugh at you, and you almost say something before you hear him ripping open a condom and sliding it on.

You take your arm off your eyes, staring at him upsettingly.

“That’s my favorite part,” you frown, sad that he didn’t allow you to slide the condom on. Typically, you give him a good sloppy-toppy before you slide the condom on in return for eating you out to hell and back. So you feel a little confused as to why he wouldn’t want one this time.

In fact, this isn’t the first time he’s cut your time together a little shorter than it usually is. These days, he’s been leaving out an activity or two in your typical fuck schedule, cutting the time in half. You hate that it makes you feel scared. You’re not together anymore, and you shouldn’t be surprised that he probably has other dates and girls to fuck after this. You hate that you don’t like that idea.

“Sorry,” he laughs. “Do you want to?”

“Well,” you sigh, turning over onto your stomach. “I did, but let’s not waste a condom. It’s fine.”

Jungkook strokes his cock at the sight of you. This is his favorite position by far. Something about it makes him cum in seconds, and he doesn’t know why.

“Next time,” he promises.

But you roll your eyes, remembering that he had said that the last time he denied you.

“Sure,” you say dryly.

Jungkook slaps your ass hard, and you jolt, looking back at him with a furrow between your eyebrows. He does it again harder, and you gush out. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction of the fact that you liked it, you attempt to reprimand him, but he’s already slipping into you, giving you no time to adjust to his size and his speed. He pistons into you, gripping your waist hard and using it for support as he slams his hips against your ass.

“Hmm,” he whines between a thrust. You can imagine his face right now, tilting his head back at the feeling while his eyes shut in an attempt to control himself. “B-best pussy, ffuckk.”

You nearly scream into the mattress, trying to hold in your third orgasm for longer. He fits you like a puzzle when you’re like this. Dick perfect for you, and body so capable of giving you what you need. He’s brutal with you, and he knows every single one of your limits. He knows how you like it, and you know how he likes it. It’s perfect...just for now.

“K-Kook,” you mewl into the back of your palm. He grabs it, placing his palm over the back of your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. He does the same to the other one, trapping them against the sheets next to your head under his weight.

“God you’re so good,” he pants in your ear. “No one else, you hear me?”

You nod frantically, unable to produce a sound. His hair falls against your cheek, moving with his thrusts as he continues to fuck you to oblivion.

“You’re my slut, understand?” he grunts angrily, gripping your hands tighter. “No one else can fuck you like this. Only me.”

“Mmhm,” you whine, leaning your head back against his shoulder. You feel him almost kiss your neck, and you whine in disappointment when he doesn’t indulge in the opportunity.

“Fuck— say it Y/n,” he demands. He bites on your ear gently, waiting for a response. When you don’t answer, he pulls out without a warning.

“What the f—” you pout, feeling completely empty. You were almost there, and he took it away from you. These questions were typical of your fucking activities. So why he wasn’t satisfied by your answers this time leaves you unable to determine what to do next.

Looking back at him, you feel confused by his expression. But he doesn’t give you time to analyze it before he turns you over onto your back, pushing your legs up to your chest as he aligns himself up again.

“Jungkook, what are you doing?” you ask him. You two agreed not to do missionary anymore. It’s too personal for just fuck buddies. But you watch him break the rules right in front of you, and all you can do is question him, unable to find the will to stop him.

He slips into you slowly, causing you to gasp at the feeling you had forgotten this position gave you. You’re not the only one feeling the effects of it. The man before you begins to lose strength, resting his forearms on the sides of your head. He traps you with tattoos, piercings, and honey skin, leaving you to feel completely overwhelmed by the familiarity of the unfamiliarity you are experiencing with him right now.

“Say it, Y/n,” he bites on your neck.

Jungkook’s pace returns to what it was before. You find yourself grasping onto his back for support, digging your nails at the feeling that you missed so badly but couldn’t admit to him that you did.

“O-Only you, Koo,” you tilt your head back against his hand. You give him the answer he always asks for. “Only you can make me feel this w-way.”

But something in Jungkook isn’t satisfied. He suddenly gains strength again and hikes your legs over his shoulders.

“G-god,” he rolls his eyes back for a second at the feeling before looking down at you. You’re so blissed out, so satisfied and fucked to the core. He feels himself hit your cervix, prompting him to go faster and deeper than he has in months. The feeling causes you to cry from the pleasure, feeling so overwhelmed and confused by the man above you. But he doesn’t stop. In the next few moments, he sears his lips onto yours, kissing you hotly and passionately — another rule broken. Despite the forbidden, you can’t help but embrace him. Jungkook’s a good kisser, but on top of that, you really missed this with him.

You slide your hands around his neck, holding him against your lips, refusing to let him go. He’s sloppy and wet, but you don’t care. Not when it feels so good to be kissed by him again.

Jungkook feels his dick twitch harshly when you whisper his name against his lips, biting at his bottom lip a little. Kissing you sent him into a high before, but kissing you now? He forgot what it felt like, and his balls tighten just from the thought itself.

“M’ gonna cum,” he groans, head falling into your neck heavily.

“Me too,” you admit. You clutch onto him, gasping as one hand sends red streaks down his back, and the other tugs on his hair like he’s some rag doll.

You tighten around him so tightly when he begins to move faster, causing him to falter in his rhythm a little.

“S-So, tight, Y/n,” he moans. His dick twitches inside of you as you cum on his cock, forcing him to follow in his own streaks of white paint. “Fuckk,” he curses into your skin.

He rides out both of your highs, too blissed out to tell how long it’s been since the two of you came, too overwhelmed to stop.

It’s not until you push on his shoulders that he finally snaps out of it.

The two of you look at each other for a long while, ignoring his dick slowly going flaccid, and the whole area down there growing cold from the lack of friction. For a while, you watch his pupils grow to the size of nickles as he looks into your eyes. He presses his palm against your cheek, and you lean against it out of pure habit.

The action causes him to scrunch his nose in laughter. You can’t help but follow after him. You laugh with him, feeling relief that the laughter you share is both of your realizations that things can't continue like this anymore. Not when it felt too good to break the rules. Not when you realize that maybe the rules need to be broken to start something new...again.

He begins to die down his laughter for a second, still smiling, but this time not showing his teeth.

“Y-You wanna try this again?” he asks first. “I’m willing to put in the work we need.”

“If you’re willing, I’m willing,” you brush the hair out of his face.

He kisses you again, softly this time. It’s real, and it feels different from all the times he’s kissed you before. There’s truth in his words. You feel that he’s already changed already, and it inspires you to change as well. For you and for him so that the two of you can work as a couple again.

“We’re so stupid,” he laughs again, brushing his nose against yours.

“We are,” you admit with a smile.

----

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2023]

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clairdelunelove · 5 months ago

Text

love thy neighbor

neighbor!itadori yuuji x f!reader, brief mentions of megumi

genre: insane amounts of fluff, comfort, slight angst?

warnings: suggestive, 5.6k words

synopsis: getting a new neighbor was bound to be a hit or miss. and in your case it's a miss. that is, until you're sharing the elevator with a guy that looks like he belongs on the cover of the latest calvin klein magazine. and suddenly, things don't go as planned because he's oddly… sweet?

a.n. had neighbor!yuuji on my mind for a while so I decided to push myself and write smth sickeningly sweet! missed writing longer works so I hope you enjoy! <3

you wholeheartedly believe that your new neighbor has more than 24 hours in a day.

the incessant noise is an indicator of that. blaring music, doors slamming at odd times, and the animated buzzing of the television during the neighborhood’s quiet hours all filter through your apartment’s worn walls. wails of a melodramatic actress haunted you in your sleep. initially, you chalked it up as a coping mechanism for your neighbor. perhaps she was going through a messy breakup and found comfort in rewatching the same movie series– several times, in fact– to help manage the heartache. you understand; it was a vulnerable type of growth that needed to be dealt with. however, it’s been the exact, aggravating routine for the past two weeks and it was driving you crazy. it had gotten so bad to the point where you were absentmindedly mumbling the corresponding dialogue whenever you were preoccupied with household chores.

and you’ve never seen her, per se. you’re just assuming that your neighbor was a young woman that reminisced her college days by cranking up the speaker to the highest volume and bouncing around to the beat. deafening stomps to the carpeted floor. at least, that’s what you hear before a piece of furniture inevitably falls from the prancing and it goes dead silent.

so imagine your surprise when a man steps into the elevator you’re wobbling into and rushes to press his designated floor number. it’s still relatively early. the sun is barely peeking out and the first flush of morning arises to allow the day to commence. yet, he’s panting as he trickles in behind you, squeezing himself through the metal doors before they can close and he’ll be forced to wait a couple minutes.

“oh,” he utters while noting that you pushed the illuminated button to his apartment floor already, “thanks!”

his voice is sleek and smooth. it’s cute, quite frankly. it rises in accordance with his gratitude, so much so that you’re intrigued to get a glance at this well-mannered stranger. and gosh— you’re not disappointed at all.

he’s taller; not at a height that’s towering over you but it’s enough for you to take note of. it’s a fantastic change of pace from the elderly tenants that typically inhabit the building and your eyes eagerly roam to discover more about the male beside you. his hair is, remarkably, pink. a tone that matches the tinge of blush that glazes over his skin due to the sweat that he desperately tries to wipe off. he’s clad in gray workout shorts and a muscle tee, both of which accentuate his toned physique. your mouth literally drops as you openly stare at the cuts of raw, powerful muscle that glisten on his body from underneath the tacky fluorescent lights.

and, immediately, embarrassment floods through you at the stark contrast behind the reasoning of why you’re up so early in the morning. overly sugary treats to begin your day served as your motivator. you just weren’t expecting to run into someone that started their day by exercising to the point that they looked like they belonged on the cover of calvin klein. it’s not one of your proudest moments.

slumping over in an attempt to conceal the pastry bag and sweet drink in your hand, you internally pray that this situation can pass quicker. save yourself from the embarrassment of it all.

he seems to pick up on your uneasiness though because his brows raise in curiosity, “what’d you get?”

and oh, calvin klein guy is talking to you.

“um, a latte and some breakfast pastry that the bakery sells. I go there pretty often,” you press your lips together before adding, “it’s the one right across the street. they open early.”

you’re cringing as the words leave your lips because really– the words ‘pastry’ and ‘breakfast’ being together would never be in the male’s vocabulary. you assume that he’s judging you for your innate ability to overshare about your rather unhealthy eating habits. after all, he had just finished what you presumed was his daily workout. perhaps he’ll even dig low enough to make you feel terrible about it. educate you on the importance of having a balanced breakfast. you’ve been on enough dates with ‘gym bros’ to acknowledge that it’s a possibility and you don’t want to hear it.

“oh really?” he ends up responding with a natural smile and it nearly blinds you, “I didn’t know! I might hafta check it out then. it looks really good!”

“their strawberry cream cheese breakfast pastry is one of my favorites.”

the suggestion tumbles out before you can think better of it but his smile only seems to brighten as he says in finality, “I’ll try that one then.”

then, he whips out his phone to visibly take note of the specific pastry you told him only seconds ago. and, wow, this guy might just be a top contender for the world’s best apartment crush. you watch him out of the corner of your eye, captivated by his radiate energy. he pockets his phone once again, shoots you a grin of finality, and abruptly lifts the end of his shirt to wipe the remnants of sweat on his forehead. his eyes are wide, mortification expressed in his hurried actions and it takes some self-restraint to not giggle at his endearing expressions.

“sorry I’m all gross, jus’ got done working out,” he explains like it wasn’t obvious, “promise I’m not normally this sweaty all the time.”

you’re instantly drawn to him. he’s all sharp features but soft intentions. a phenomenon that you wish to unravel if he’d allow you to. he lets out a sheepish laugh, the melodic sound cutting through the awkward elevator silence, and you’re giggling in earnest soon after.

“it wouldn’t be so bad if you were, though.”

you bite your lip. the statement is a tiny bit bolder than you were expecting but his bashful expression says it all. he’s keen on the attention. his brows raise in mild surprise but the tips of his ears tinge red. not one to actively go searching for it but finds pleasure in it if you’re willing to hand it out.

the elevator dings and the doors slowly open to reveal your apartment floor’s hallway as he scrambles for words. though, you know you’ve made quite the impression when he follows behind your retreating figure. a flicker of warmth laps up at you, a sort of satisfaction sizzling within you at how he’s actively pursuing you and for the first time in a while you’re grateful for the good change in fortune.

“well would you look at that,” the blushy haired male’s voice rings just as you move to unlock the door to your apartment, “we’re neighbors!”

and your mouth drops.

he’s your neighbor. the same one that’s been repeatedly keeping you awake during the night by dialing up the volume on every show he’s watching. or how you can audibly hear the thuds as he leaps around while playing some ear-splitting video game. or how, vaguely, you overhear the hissed scolding of another male’s voice from the opposite side of the wall that separates the two of you. it’s all been the calvin klein guy– not some heartbroken girl that’s stuck chasing after her crazy college years.

“whatta crazy coincidence!” he adds, breaking your dawning realization, and grins as he sticks his own key into his apartment and turns it.

but you find your voice before he can stroll through his entryway. you know that you should just say something and get it over with. voice your frustrations of ending up with the misfortune of having a rather boisterous next-door neighbor while you strived to achieve the most stress-free life. the desire to have a fresh start was unattainable at this rate. give him a piece of your mind for further ruining your– already– messed up sleep schedule.

“wait! um,” you clear your throat and try to quell the anger that grabs hold of you, “the walls are super thin and I can hear whenever you’re blasting your music or watching tv, ya know. could you try to keep it down, please?”

and why is your voice dying down at the end of it? the heated exchange you’ve been reciting in your mind is reduced to a polite inquiry. a sort of ‘hey it’d be really nice if you could do this for my well-being but it’s alright if you can’t!’ type of barter. inwardly, you kick at yourself because the whole point of this is to give your neighbor a piece of the irritation you experience daily. yet, you bite your lip when he gives you that sweeping glance of his that makes you weak. the one where his gaze lingers on you with a curiosity that begs at him to be sedated. his widened eyes sparkle, a shade of honey that reminds you of butterscotch candy, as he understands your displeasure.

“ah, I’m super sorry ‘bout that! I wasn’t sure how soundproof my room was since I just moved in and the loud music kinda helps me focus. but I’ll try to be quieter,” the apology rushes out of him as he tilts his head to the side, “hope you didn’t lose any sleep ‘cause of me. it’d kill me if that happened.”

this isn’t going in the direction you thought it would’ve. at most, you expected to perhaps throw some hands or at least anticipated an angry dispute to erupt based on your confrontation. yet, the blushy haired male treats this like it’s a mere misunderstanding that he’ll resolve if you just give him the word. he’ll listen. just tell him what to do and he’ll do it without any qualms. you’re left starstruck, lips agape, and utterly embarrassed by this whole ordeal. here you were attempting to make the most out of some noise when all he was doing was naively enjoying his free time. he stands unmovingly, attempting to decipher the endless range of emotions that you display throughout the whole ordeal. you feel the heat creeping up onto your neck, desperate to immediately flee from the situation, and push open the door to your apartment.

“no, no, no, I sleep fine. just,” you call out behind your shoulder and abruptly shut the door behind you, “try not to do it again, thanks!”

—

“oh!”

you were expecting the sight of bright eyes and blushy hair, with an instinctual grin that lifts like he’s looking forward to seeing you. what you weren’t anticipating, however, is the tuft of coal black hair and passive expression that greets you in the entryway of yuuji’s apartment. the stranger gives you a once over, not inappropriate by any means, but more along the lines of legitimate curiosity for your sudden visit.

“sorry, I thought,” you pause to recheck the apartment again and stutter through your justification, “I must’ve had the wrong apartment. I thought someone else lived here.”

he’s quiet at first, seemingly trying to gather the words he wishes to say before he can think better of it, “is it a guy that’s obnoxiously loud?”

“um–”

“with pink hair?”

“yes, exactly!”

your eyes light up at your neighbor’s description, the image of him basically ingrained into your mind. with his considerate eyes and kind demeanor despite your one-sided bitterness towards the person that disturbed your peace. your encounter with the blushy haired male has been occupying your thoughts for the last couple of days so it’s no wonder you decided to show up and apologize. equipped with a box of takeout and a meek smile, this proved to be your attempt at atoning for your previous run in with him.

the pure delight in your voice causes the dark haired male to be taken aback. he doesn’t recently recall yuuji gushing about meeting some girl. rather, megumi wasn’t expecting him to withhold such information since he had the tendency to overshare about everything. the latest restaurants opening up, upcoming movies, or newly released comics– the blushy haired male was continuously spouting about it. but yuuji had that magnetism about him that attracted anyone and everyone. so who was he to infer the relationship between the two of you? it wasn’t his business. he knows someone that might’ve wished to know, though.

it’s a bit awkward due to the silence that follows as you shift on your feet. it was a bit difficult to read the man in front of you. the contrast between him and his blushy haired friend was too great. his neutral expression gave you almost nothing to consider and you felt the nervousness creep up on you. this rendezvous proved to be more than you anticipated. heat trickles behind your neck as megumi pulls out his phone to type a quick text before pocketing it again and stepping aside.

“you can wait inside,” he says with finality while angling his slim body so you can pass through the entryway, “he’ll be here soon. he’s just running some errands.”

“thank you!”

and the apartment is a lot cleaner than you imagined. there’s a couple of misplaced hoodies and comic books that are left out on the living room table but it’s fitting. then again, it’d been a while since you were invited into a guy’s place. especially one that occupies your mind so frequently.

before you can chicken out, you gesture to the bags in your hands, “oh! I brought over some food, by the way. a peace offering of some sort.”

megumi’s dark eyes flick over to the contents in the bag and realize just how much you’ve been carrying this entire time. plastic containers are filled to the brim with an assortment of perfectly placed sushi. it looks delicious but the sheer amount would almost be comical if megumi wasn’t aware of how much his friend could consume. the bags’ handles you’re gripping onto are thoroughly stretched, as though the weight of the food was unexpectedly dense and he doesn’t bother masking how his eyes widen. you brought a lot.

“you can help yourself too! I wasn’t sure if he was allergic to anything so I got a bunch. maybe too much,” your voice lowers during your rambling to hide your embarrassment.

“thanks.”

it’s a seemingly simple word of gratitude yet it’s genuine. you note that his voice has considerably softened since he first spoke to you. like his tone is soothed from its typical bluntness and he’s putting in an effort to be considerate. he strikes you as the type to believe actions rather than words. it’s intriguing. he’s put a comfortable amount of distance between the two of you but now he strides towards you and despite your protests, he moves to take the bags from your grasp to place them on the counter in order to ease the burden. somewhere along the way introductions are shared and the two of you take part in lighthearted conversation. it’s initially clumsy with your habit of oversharing and megumi’s short responses but soon you both find a delicate balance that feels nice.

it’s a start.

and it’s the scene that yuuji doesn’t have the chance to see as he stumbles through the door of his apartment. he heaves, clearly a sign that he rushed here, and haphazardly closes the door with the back of his heel as he strolls in. he’s all swift energy and hectic movement– exactly like he always is.

“brought in the newspaper! if you even wanna read that junk later,” he distractedly calls out while placing a grocery bag onto the counter and vaguely catches a glimpse of the food you brought, “wow look at all this food! I thought you didn’t get paid until the end of the week, fushiguro–”

“did you even read my text, idiot?”

“what! you met my neighbor? why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

yuuji, now coming out of his room, has his phone clutched in his hand and he quickly unlocks it. a gasp leaves his lips once he reads his friend’s message. the way his eyes speedily trek along the screen is laughable and it causes megumi to click his tongue in annoyance. then, yuuji peers over at megumi to give him overly exaggerated, gaping eyes and a pout. it’s quite the spectacle, really. megumi’s already used to this, however, and he continues to relax on the living room couch.

the dark haired male presses an exasperated hand against his face and mutters, “what’s the point of having a phone if you just forget it half the time.”

“so,” yuuji carries the conversation and prompts his friend to go on, “what did she say? did she ask about me? why’d she leave so quickly? don’t tell me you scared her off, fushiguro!”

there’s a plate of unfinished sushi in front of megumi and he pokes at it as he ponders about his friend’s sudden interest in your departure. it’s unprecedented, new– how yuuji’s gaze immediately flicks over to the door like he’s debating on if he should see you. pay you a short visit. tell you how grateful he is that you visited and he’s sorry that he wasn’t home to greet you. he was so easy to read.

“she said that she’s sorry for blowing up on you that one time,” megumi recalls as he brings a slab of ginger to his mouth, “said the food was to apologize.”

“aw man, that was totally my fault though!”

“I know but still, you should eat the food before it goes bad. she did bring it for you after all.”

humming in agreement, yuuji grabs a pair of chopsticks, chooses a variety of different sushi pieces, and makes himself a plate. he takes a seat beside megumi, a tendency that was bound to be a custom at this point. the duo had a history of crashing at each other’s place ever since they were younger. it was an attempt to bring a sense of normalcy in their hectic lives. they engage in the usual small talk; with yuuji expressing his utter delight every time he shoves a piece of sushi in his mouth and megumi responding with stoic comments. all is well. though, the dark haired male perceives that there’s something off. there’s a light furrow in yuuji’s brow, an indication that he’s troubled and ruminating.

so by the time yuuji’s done eating, megumi addresses the other male’s concerns with a terse frown, “well? are you going to see her or are you just gonna sit here wallowing in your own self-pity?”

“jus’ noticed that I never got your name!”

your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. not once were you expecting your neighbor to be at your door at eventide– especially since you were just at his place earlier in the day. in fact, you had rubbed off all the extra makeup and glitz after you finished delivering the takeout to megumi. he seemed trustworthy enough to relay your message so you didn’t think your neighbor would amble over to speak with you, much less with a pretty bouquet of flowers in his hand.

he grins, anticipating your shock, and adds, “asked around the apartment complex for your name ‘cuz I wanted to write you a card but everyone just looked at me like I was crazy! like, I didn’t have much to go off of except what you look like!”

and you consider the possibility that he looks even better in casual clothes. maybe it’s the way every article of clothing he owns fits him perfectly; broad and muscular shoulders tapering inward to emphasize his narrow waist. or, it’s a long stretch, but perhaps you’re just hyper vigilant of him whenever he’s close. wearing a plain shirt tucked into loose pants, he’s as breathtaking as you remember and you do your best to calm the wave of butterflies in your stomach.

you instinctively bring a hand to cover your bareface as you give him your name. a smile tugs at his lips. shifting the bouquet of flowers underneath one arm, he pulls out a tiny, decorated card and a pen from his pocket. he rhetorically says your name, lets it marinate on his tongue, while writing it and slipping the card in the center of the bouquet.

“awesome. this is for you,” he hands you the flowers before bashfully rubbing the back of his neck, “fushiguro told me you stopped by earlier and dropped off all that food. ‘m sorry I wasn’t there to see but thank you, really.”

you press your lips together, aware that this is your chance to right your wrongs and stumble on your words, “oh! you didn’t need to. I was rude and complaining about something small so I just wanted to do that for you–”

“and,” he meets your eyes as he confesses, “I wanted to see you again.”

his words go straight through your heart. distinctly, you feel the gentle caress of his long fingers against the back of your hand as he slips the bouquet into your arms and his touch is dizzying. you might just melt. liquify into a pile of mush due to his sweet actions. doesn’t help that he’s gazing at you like you string up each individual star in the times of twilight. his eyes roam the entirety of your face. memorizing every pretty freckle and curve now since he’s close.

“guess it also helps that my neighbor is really pretty,” he whispers, like the compliment is punched out of him and laid out for you to delve in.

from there on, his focus drops to the pink of your lips. then to the glimmer of your skin that peeks beneath your homey clothes. almost outwardly sighs at the sight before him. like he wants you–thoughtlessly, selfishly, and desperately. the only way he knows how to show he cares. lodges himself deep within the depths of your soul. lets himself in due to his benevolence and warmth.

then, he pulls away and blinks himself out of the stupor that was induced by you. there’s a sheepish smile on his face like he’s aware he’d been caught. a dust of red splattering on the tips of his ears. but to which he was at fault for; staring too intently or letting his blossoming feelings show– who really knows?

yuuji steps back to take his leave before it can get too dark out, “glad we both got what we wanted at the end. I'll see ya later!”

and with that, he waves you a farewell while you’re gripping onto the bouquet of flowers he gifted you. you’re a hot, flustered mess from your encounter with your neighbor. heart racing and thrumming against your chest. but you guess your apology successfully worked. your next step is to find a nice vase. and as you mosey through your apartment with a little extra bounce in your step, you trim the stems and set the flowers to be displayed in your living room. it’s been a while since a man has ever given you flowers. it’s nice. brightens the place up. a huff of content passes your lips. and yes, you do manage to get his name because tucked at the bottom of the card is his full name– followed by a small, scrawled heart.

the next couple days roll into weeks of giddy, mushy happiness that’s unparalleled to anything you’ve ever experienced. he makes an effort to see you almost every other day. stands in front of your door with a bright grin plastered on his face while the both of you catch up. and you share a little bit of your life and schedule so he’s informed on the most convenient time you’ll be home. and it stuns you that yuuji’s naturally this warmhearted. he’s characteristically a provider and giver. finds reason in being the one that lets you have peace of mind. he signs off on your packages when you’re not home, carries your heavy groceries if the elevators are broken, and keeps you company during your midnight snack runs. always inquisitive of your feelings and thoughts. and it’s not just you that he treats kindly (and sure what he does for you borders the invisible line of being more than neighbors). but he’s just inherently courteous. he helps stray animals cross the busy intersection in front of the apartment, moves the massive potted plants for the elderly tenants, and even goes out of his way to greet every individual person in the mornings. yuuji is too good to be true.

so it’s no wonder you overhear him conversing with a girl.

it was completely unintentional– initially. you were in the process of slipping on your shoes to go on your usual bakery run. the typical sweet treat that kept you motivated and energized for the rest of the week. that is, until an overly raucous giggle startles you. you freeze at the unusual noise. it’s feminine. not the usual scoff and chuckle you typically overhear from megumi when he visits. the walls are so thin, courtesy of the rent being low, hence catching onto your neighbors’ conversations was pretty easy. so who’s laughing that loud in the early morning and why was it coming from yuuji’s side of the wall?

checking wasn’t necessarily a crime. and you know it’s wrong but your logic is swayed when yuuji’s own laughter follows. your eye twitches. the sound was bittersweet now. your hands tighten into fists as your breathing quickens and you realize that having the freedom of becoming attached to someone comes with some risks.

letting your feet lead you closer, you’re perched next to the wall connecting your apartment with his and you hesitantly press your ear against the painted surface.

“where to, miss?”

that’s yuuji’s voice. you recognize it from anywhere because it’s perfect– honeyed and sincere– or at least, that’s what you were bewitched with. it wasn’t the exact emotion you conjured up now though. you stood there, dazed beyond comprehension. confused about the relationship you shared with him. you assumed it was mutual; well, a fondness that came in the form of watching him tip his head back in laughter as you artlessly sing your favorite song to him. or how, when the two of you lounge on your couch, you’re both sharing hopes about the future until the sun rises. most importantly, you were hurt. utterly devastated by the accidental secret you’ve uncovered. did it mean nothing to him? you feel your throat close up. can feel the beginnings of frustration arise and your hand moves to clutch at your heart. you needed an explanation; a clarification for the way he’s been treating you. you didn’t want your one chance of happiness to vanish.

storming to his door, you give it a firm knock before impatiently shifting on your feet, “it’s me.”

you don’t expect him to answer, to be fair. he could choose to ignore your knock, shrug it off and give the run-of-the-mill excuse to the girl he was seeing. or there’d be a beat of silence as he desperately shoves the girl out of sight before he answers the door like those cliche rom-coms that boast high praise due to the drama. and a part of you knows that yuuji’s not like that– he’s sweet, charming, and undeniably considerate– but you don’t know what to believe. you’re a hot mess that’s destined to explode.

so it catches you off-guard when the door immediately swings open.

you stand steadfast, however, “yuuji, we need to talk–”

but the outburst dies on your lips. you’re gaping at the sight that you’re greeted with. megumi’s the one that opens the door for you. his dark eyes flick over to you once and he pulls the door back further to reveal where the commotion was coming from. almost like he understands why you’ve shown up. then, he clasps his hands over his ears to block out the deafening volume of the television and yuuji’s incessant reciting.

there’s a sneer plastered on megumi’s face as he turns to the pink-haired male, “I told you to knock it off before she got the wrong idea.”

and at the mention of ‘she,’ yuuji freezes. he’s perched atop their rickety couch, teetering on the edge, and holding the end of a hairbrush to his mouth like it’s a microphone. there’s no other girl. he’s not flirting with anyone. the television’s on, playing an iconic movie scene as he passionately narrates the actor’s lines in time with the script. it’s entertaining. amusing. and under different circumstances you’d fall into a fit of laughter but once he meets your eyes, yuuji pauses.

“crap,” he drops the hairbrush and hastily scrambles to the remote to flick the television off, “‘m sorry was I being too loud–”

yuuji rushes to greet you. his feet steadily thump against the wooden floors as he hastens his steps. his subconscious leads him to you, always. like he can’t help but come to you despite everything. there’s an abashed grin on his face and the tips are his ears are tinged red from being caught. yet, he’s clearly delighted to see you at his door.

and the guilt automatically hits you.

“n-no! I mean, uh,” you focus your attention to the floor as you shake your head, “that’s not why I came here. I thought– oh my gosh– I feel horrible now.”

tilting his head in confusion, yuuji patiently waits through your sputtering in an attempt to understand what you’re saying. you’re distraught. seeking a sound enough reason on your sudden arrival. you’re flustered, tongue-tied, because now that you’ve seen what you heard earlier, it all makes perfect sense. your ability to jump to conclusions was astounding and the bane of your existence. heat radiates from your cheeks as you clam up.

there’s a heavy sigh.

“I’ll be taking my leave now. I don’t feel like third-wheeling today,” megumi explains while stepping past you, “counting on you two to work it out.”

before the dark haired male leaves he lifts his hand to good-naturedly pat your head. it’s foreign and as if he realizes this, megumi simply shrugs. then, he murmurs his own blunt, twisted encouragement and leaves the both of you alone.

it’s silent.

but then yuuji gently leads you inside his apartment. hums that it’ll be better to talk with no interruptions. you let him guide you into the place that you frequent rather often recently, welcoming the press of his fingers against your waist and how his touch instantly brings warmth. he sits you in the middle of the couch, chuckling when you inadvertently sink into the cushions. but he abruptly stops once he detects your regretful expression. the way the corners of your lips are downturned and how you refuse to look at him. an arrow pierces at his heart.

leaning to place his hands on your shoulders, he carefully mentions, “you wanted to talk?”

he keeps his voice light, mindful and it’s his gentleness that breaks you. his bright eyes are trained on your face to decipher what’s been bothering you. doesn’t like seeing you so distressed. he’s already grasping for a solution without even knowing the problem. he’s so good to you.

and when his thumb soothingly caresses against the side of your neck, you wring your hands as you try to explain, “I know I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping but I overheard you speaking to someone. a girl. so I thought–”

you break off to press your lips together in embarrassment. there’s a flash of realization on his sharp features, like he finally acknowledges the misunderstanding. the issue that’s driven you to the point of showing up to his door and staring up at him with wistful eyes. causing his will to break into pieces that you’re destined to pick up and glue back together. then, before you can blink, he’s dropping to his knees and grasping onto your hands. his knitted brows relax as he exhales your name in hushed relief. and it’s a sight of pure reverence. reassurance to the very aspect of your being. you’ve appeased his worries so he’ll make it right; it’s a promise.

“that was all my fault, I was being stupid and messing around. I’m sorry for making you worried,” yuuji clarifies in a single breath, “I want you to know one thing, though.”

bringing your hand to his lips, he presses a tender kiss in the space between your knuckles and looks up at you, “I’m serious about this– about you.”

the octave in his voice drops at the end of his confession, bordering a hoarse whisper meant only for you. a rawness to his sudden seriousness. a reason for his countless efforts. and there’s only so much he’s allowed you to be aware of with his growing feelings. like how he thinks of you right as the sun rises. right when the brilliant hues are flourishing as the day begins to take over. or how he imagines you as the love interest in every romance movie. or how the days become brighter when you’re around. you bring significance into his life.

and he admits that he’s new to these all-consuming feelings. his mind morphs into oblivion and his mouth turns into the equivalent of fuzz. simply due to your sweet smile. it takes all his willpower not to reach out for you when you’re near. his fingers tremble in need to hold and cherish you. he’s utterly whipped. so one thing is for certain– when he thinks of you, there’s a lightness that engulfs his world.

“yuu.”

yuuji’s broken out of his trance when you sweep a gentle hand through his blushy hair. the sentiment is unmistakable now. his act of kneeling in front of you proves his resolve and sincerity. uttering his name is the closest aspect of him being yours. your sweet neighbor. he lets out a content hum and your glossy lips curve into a smile at his reaction. forever fascinated by his undying need to adore you. he sees his whole world beaming back at him. and in that moment, yuuji was convinced that his sole purpose was to bring you happiness. this was the prospect of his adoration. a regard to his devotion towards you. pretty eyes half-lidded, he peers up at you and knowingly tilts his head.

“wanna go get that breakfast pastry you always get at the bakery? 'm pretty sure it was the strawberry cream cheese one,” he asks, his tone hopeful yet bashful as he adds, “you could think of it as a date.”

#yuuji itadori #itadori yuuji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #itadori x y/n #itadori x reader #jjk x reader #yuji itadori #yuuji fluff #jujutsu itadori

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ladylooch · 2 months ago

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Cups and Cradles - [Timo x Emma]

A/N: Our sweet Livy girl coming to fruition. I love this. Laughable that Timo thought they could go months without each other 🙄 Thankfully he is married to Emma.

Word Count: 4.3k

Emma Meier considers herself a good wife.

She loves her husband, takes care of him, and offers support when things are going haywire in his life. She birthed a baby for him, designed a house that they both love, and dutifully attends a majority of his home games.

But this shit, she did not sign up for.

Inside their master bathroom, Emma smoothes on her night time skin cream, asking herself how she is going to get through who knows how many weeks of this crap.

The crap? No sex until playoffs are over- Stanley Cup or not. With how dominating the Devils were in their first series, she has legitimate concerns hopes that the Devils will reach the Stanley Cup finals. This means she has weeks, maybe months, left of no dick. With that realization, Emma sighs heavily, arms slapping the sides of her thighs. She glances into the bedroom at her nightstand where her various vibrators sit.

They’re just not the same.

She puts her robe back on it’s hook by the shower, then pads into their bedroom. She has to hold in the moan at how damn sexy her husband looks with their son sleeping on his chest. Timo rests propped up with several pillows behind his back. On his chest, Lio sleeps soundly in dinosaur pajamas, little lips pulled open into an oval. He’s been out for awhile. They have been good about Lio sleeping in his bed lately, but the little boy is getting over a stomach bug that required a lot more daddy snuggles than usual.

Beneath Lio, her husband is shirtless, grey sweatpants resting low on his hips. The band of his underwear lays flat against his muscular abdomen, stretching the words Calvin Klein across his skin in a way that makes Emma want to sink to her knees. In Timo’s hands is a small iPad. He casts game film onto the large TV in front of their bed. His eyes are focused, examining the play again as he rewinds the footage.

Emma’s brown orbs narrow at his lack of attention to her. She’s in silk, ivory pajamas. Her skimpy tank top dips low over her cleavage and her nipples perk from the soft fabric brushing them. The shorts barely cover her ass, which she makes sure he realizes as she leans down to gather Lio into her arms.

“No.” Timo pouts, but allows her take him.

“You’ll have plenty of time with him this week.” Emma reminds him as Timo kisses Lio’s head for a final time that night. The Devils are the only team done with their series and it’s likely they won’t be back in game play for over 7 days while the other series finishes.

Emma saunters out of the room, but steals a look at her husband who has his eyes glued to her ass. When he sees she caught him looking, he grins and shrugs, then goes back to game tape with a smug face. Emma sighs. Damn him. Damn his rules. Damn him for putting on those pants that he knows drive her crazy! Never mind that she did the same thing with these pajamas.

Emma lays Lio down in his bed, smoothing his hair down and tucking him in for the night. His little lips flutter in a sleepy sigh. His fingers reach out for something, curling into his blanket. Emma holds her breath until she is sure he is going to stay asleep. Then she carefully tip toes from the room.

As she comes up on their bedroom door, she slows her pace. Peeking in, Timo is where she left him. His left hand muses at his bottom lip as his gaze drags across the TV. The starkness of his wedding ring on his finger has wetness pooling in Emma’s core. All of that gorgeous man is hers. Forever.

Wordlessly, Emma continues into the room. She stops at the end of the bed, slightly blocking the TV he is so interested in tonight. He does a double take at her, blue gaze darkening when he sees the wanting so clearly etched into her face. Timo’s fingers click the iPad to go dark, causing the TV behind her to turn black. He slowly puts the iPad on his nightstand, then looks at Emma with his hands braced on his big thighs.

Emma presses her palms on the expensive bedding she picked out a few weeks ago, then she drags one knee up. Timo licks his lips, eyes drinking her in like he’s starving the way she is too. She drags her other knee up, then places the final palm on the bed so she is on all fours. When she begins to crawl, Timo’s eyes close in defeat.

“Fuck.”

“You? Yeah I’m going to.”

Emma continues to crawl up his spread legs. The closer she gets, the more his cock swells in his sweatpants. Emma hovers over his lap, then leans forward, maintaining eye contact as she presses her lips to his thin happy trail. She runs her tongue along it, flat, like she would if it was his cock, then kisses up the ridges of his abdomen. Emma’s hands stay on either side of his hips, careful not to touch him any way except with her mouth.

Timo can’t keep his hands to himself. From above her, he runs his fingers through her hair, resting that big hand on the back of her neck to hold her in her next kiss. She sucks his skin into her mouth, worming her tongue along the pinkening slice of abdomen.

“You look like you need something big in that mouth.” His voice is gravely, low, dangerous, the way he gets when he’s incredibly turned on. Emma smirks then kisses over the tent in his sweatpants.

“But baby, no sex during the playoffs?” Emma pouts dramatically at him, pressing her breasts together with her biceps so he can see the deep canyon of her cleavage from above. When he doesn’t answer, Emma puts her mouth back on his happy trail, allowing her tongue to graze the waistband of his underwear. Timo sighs in exasperation, trying not to moan as she keeps working her lips over him.

But Timo Meier is only a mortal man.

And somehow, his right hand gathers a boob into it. He massages her breast gently until her nipple reveals it’s self again. Then he scrapes the edge of his pointer finger along the perky tip, flicking it for good measure. As he does that, Emma peels the waistband of his pants away. Timo’s cock flaps out against his abdomen, taut and ready to be buried in whatever hole his wife will give him. Emma continues her teasing, bringing her open mouth close to his cock, but not touching it. Instead, she kisses around it with wet, sucking kisses that make his shaft throb and tighten every time she raises her mouth.

“Babe.” Timo groans. His weakness for her is throwing any reservations on this to the wind.

He is a weak, weak man.

“Put it in your mouth or I’ll do it for you.” Timo snaps at her when she runs just the tip of her tongue on the cleft of his head.

“This is your rule. You break it.” She challenges. Call Emma a control freak, she doesn’t care. But damn does she love watching her husband lose it for her.

Emma stays perched on her knees, mouth wide open, tongue out and flat, brown eyes boring into his until Timo moves his hand. He grips the base of his shaft then slaps his swollen tip against her tongue. He glides his head up her wet muscle until it disappears behind her teeth. Emma collects him at the back of her throat, then she shoves his hand away to choke on his cock like the good wife he deserves. A tortured groan squeezes from Timo’s throat as her hand works him over too.

“Oh. Baby, that feels incredible.” He praises her. “Mmm, you miss sucking on this, huh?” He asks her, pressing her head gently down him more. Emma breathes through the gag, then drags her mouth up him excruciatingly slow. As she does this, her tongue laps at the underside of his shaft. Timo gathers her hair up so he can watch her mouth work him over. His hips start listing up into her mouth. Emma can feel his hand shaking to resist fucking her mouth too hard.

He only lets her do this for a few minutes, long enough that they both get enjoyment from it, but not long enough that he explodes.

“Off. I am not coming in your mouth.” He pulls Emma off his cock with a firm grip on her hair. Emma’s eyes widen excitedly. He chuckles knowingly, appreciating how hot it is that she likes to be handled roughly.

Timo reaches his hands out to help her crawl up to him. Then he kisses her mouth deeply, threading his fingers through her hair lovingly this time. Their tongues connect. Timo sucks on her top lip, then presses her hips down to rest on his cock laying attentively on his stomach. Emma rolls her hips, dragging the silk of her shorts along his erection until he gets fed up and pulls her up so she kneels over him on all fours.

Timo’s hands come to her shorts. He ignores the bow on them, deciding that will take too long. Instead, he grips the waistband, ripping them down her thighs so he can bury his fingers in her core. He fucks her harshly, her wetness coating his fingers while the noise takes over the room.

Emma’s breathing hitches as his fingers curl up, playing with velvety walls.

“Fuck.” Emma hisses. Her head drops back to the ceiling and she smiles happily. This feels so damn good with him. Perfect. Exactly what she needed. With her eyes closed, she feels Timo nudge her nipple over the silk camisole. She wraps her hand around the back of his head, holding him there as he sucks it through the thin material. Emma arches against his fingers and he grins.

“Needy as fuck.” Her face snaps back to his, glaring.

“Yeah! I’ve been without you for so long.”

“It’s been two weeks, babe.” He laughs against her wet shirt. He pulls back, pushing the fabric up to get her bare nipple. His tongue probes it, tracing the bumps around it until his lips enclose the sensitive bud. Emma moans, loudly, then begins to pant as he works his fingers in the perfect rhythm with his mouth. Then his thumb drags across her clit.

“Mmm.” Emma sighs to him, pressing her hips down onto his hand. Just as she feels herself about to explode, Timo stops. “No!” She cries.

“I need to be inside of you. You feel way too good right now.” Timo insists.

“That was so mean.” Emma whines as his fingers slide out of her.

“I’ll make it up to you.” He murmurs. Emma rolls to the side. She wraps her hand around his cock, stroking it a few times then leaning forward to suck on his swollen head again. Timo’s hand comes under her chin, pulling her off. “Get up here.”

Dutifully, Emma wiggles her pajama bottoms the rest of the way off her legs, then she crawls on top of Timo, ass facing him for reverse cowgirl. This way he’ll fill her the fullest, especially when his hand pushes into her stomach like… that.

Emma and Timo groan in unison as she slides down him completely. She stays there for a moment, rolling her hips forward and back, letting that fullness consume her senses until she can’t stand it anymore. Then she lifts and slams back down him. Her ass bounces against the V of his tight abdomen. He meets her thrust the next time she does this, causing an electric surge to go through her body. Goosebumps break out on her arms. Emma grips the edge of her camisole, taking it off in one swoop and tossing it to the floor.

Her hands move in front of her between Timo’s spread legs. Then she curls her legs closer to his body to give herself the most leverage.

“Oh my god.” Timo moans. His large hands come to her ass, spreading her cheeks apart to watch her pussy swallow him with each downward thrust. “Baby.” He groans this time. Emma can hear his head hit the headboard as he leans back. She looks over her shoulder at him, grinning at his blissed out look. His hands slide from her ass to her hips, feeling the way she rolls and presses down on his cock. He cups her waist puling her back onto him, wide fingers spreading out along her stomach. She moves his right hand towards her belly button, pressing in.

Emma works herself back on his cock harder, faster than she can remember doing with him before. She reaches back to hold an ass cheek up as Timo presses more into her stomach. The girth of him has her tempo faltering for a moment.

“Oh fuck. Fuck… oh…” Emma pants, then shakes as she comes undone. Her orgasm rips through her, almost taking Timo with her.

But he still owes her one.

Once, she slows her bucks back onto him, Timo holds her in place for a moment, so he can get on his knees. Then he gently drags himself out of her.

“The mess you just made on my cock.” He smirks.

Timo drags his head through her slit, teasing her. Emma feels the mess collect there, then he pushes back into her and she sees stars. Timo wraps a hand around her stomach, rolling her clit as they begin their climb again. He’s gentle, knowing she’s sensitive, but wanting her to build fast. He’s still just a man after all. And his wife knows all the ways to tease him. Like she is right now, purposefully fluttering her walls around him.

Emma can tell when her husband has had about enough of that. His hand twirling her clit gets faster. His hips pump deeper and harsher into her and her body weight is forced deep into the mattress. Emma lays there, letting him use her, feeling the delicious build. The waves lap at her body, making her warm, loose. She enjoys the climb this time, barely able to moan out her pleasure as Timo fucks her hard, fast, fully, just like she needs.

Timo releases her hip, leaning forward to run his hand along her forearm. Then he tangles the fingers of their left hands together. As his thumb strums her clit harder, Emma squeezes his fingers.

“That good, baby?” Timo grunts into her ear.

“Yeah.”

“You gonna come for me?”

“Yeah!” She whimpers.

Timo kisses her cheek, collapsing down more for long thrusts into her pussy. Emma wails out his name, then comes hard around his cock. Timo pushes jerky thrusts through her second orgasm then fills his wife up like he promised. When Emma recovers, she pushes her hips back into him to keep his cock buried inside of her. Timo noses her shoulder, then plumps his lips along her shoulder blade.

“Worth it?” Emma whispers to him, walls still fluttering around him, making him wince from the sensitivity.

“You always are, baby.”

Emma smiles, then lays forward as he slides from her core. She crosses her legs while Timo lays back, putting a big paw on her bare ass. He wiggles it in his grasp, then sighs happily. His fingers keep rubbing over her butt, lulling her further into her happy, blissful state. Emma can still feel the comforting heat of his cum inside of her as she rolls over to her back. Her gaze connects with the glass of water on her nightstand. She sits up, then takes big sip before hurrying herself across the floor to the bathroom.

It isn’t until she is cleaning Timo’s cum out from between her thighs that she remembers the other reason they were waiting until after playoffs. She walks to the bathroom door, looking out at Timo who lays in bed, still naked, with his eyes closed.

“I’m not on any birth control.” Emma murmurs.

“Oh fuck.” Timo starts to laugh, remembering as she does her appointment to remove her IUD two weeks ago. After the season officially ended, they were going to start trying. Getting pregnant now would be a huge distraction down the stretch. Emma cringes, then chuckles.

“Forgot about that…” She tosses the towel she had been using into their laundry hamper.

“I doubt you’ll get pregnant after one time.”

Emma gives him a ‘really’ look then points toward their son’s room.

“To be fair that was three times.”

“Yeah, back when you used to love me.” Emma pouts, climbing into bed with him.

“You can do it, baby. We all gotta sacrifice for the cup.”

For the second time that night, Emma can’t remember why she signed up for this shit.

- - -

Despite the constant presence of nausea, Emma Meier could not be happier as she watches the final 15 seconds of the game trickle down. The Devils are up 4-2 after an empty netter by Jack Hughes. The Stanley Cup returning to Jersey is imminent. Emma stands with her son in her hands, trying not to lose it completely as the whole Devils bench rises, bouncing excitedly.

5 seconds now. Emma cheers loudly with her sister-in-law, Lexi, who proudly stands next to her. The two women look at each other, both obviously crying as their husbands mutual dream comes true below.

The final horn sounds.

Prudential Center is electric. The cheering raises the hair on Emma’s arms as she bounces Lio gently but excitedly in her hands. He laughs loudly, cupping his little hands over his ear protection.

Next time they are in this building, Emma will be considerably more pregnant.

She found out close to two weeks ago, right before the Stanley Cup Finals began. Timo doesn’t know. Emma didn’t want to distract him with any of this before the biggest series of his career. Not when he has worked so hard for this. With this being her second pregnancy, Emma knows what to worry about and everything has been fine. Except the sickness she’s had the last four days. She could do without that. Timo hasn’t seemed to notice her frequent trips to the bathroom. But he has been a hockey machine and trying to rest to nurse his several nagging injuries.

Emma and Lexi stay in place for the celebration and the ceremony. Emma almost sobs so hard she throws up when her brother lifts that Cup. Indescribable, that’s how she will explain it to him later. She knows how hard their family has worked, the sacrifices, the way they all showed up for him over the years. All of that effort is what helps Nico thrust that glorious silver cup into the air. She yells back like his screams are for her then turns to the left to hug both of her parents.

Damn, this day is wrecking her.

She turns back to the ice in time to watch her brother skate his lap. He comes closer to them, thrusting it even higher, yelling louder. The whole group screams back at him. Emma wraps an arm around Lexi, squeezing her tight with their babies in their other arms. The two women hold each other through Timo getting the cup too. Then the group ignites wildly again. Lio tries to hide his face from the excitement. Emma kisses his head, then softly coos in Swiss German for him to look at Daddy.

Timo’s grin as he looks up at them, the Cup over his head, is an image Emma will never forget. All their dreams coming true in this moment. A Cup, a healthy baby, happily married with another one on the way.

Suddenly, the secret she has kept from him for two weeks, feels impossible to hold. She wants to tell him. Now.

With her family, including Timo’s parents and Larissa, Emma heads down to the ice with the rest of the Devils family members. They all chat excitedly, barely able to hold back for the rest of the laps before the doors open and the carpets are rolled out. Lexi takes off first, rushing over the red carpet to leap into Nico’s arms. He catches her effortlessly.

Emma’s approach to Timo is more cautious with the precious cargo she carries.

“I can take Lio?” Her dad offers in Swiss German as her mom is loaded down with a tired Lucie.

“No, I want to bring him to T.” She tells her dad.

Emma steps onto the carpet laid over the ice, smiling at Timo who immediately clocks his wife and child. She hugs Lio closer to her, carefully continuing forward towards him. Timo slows down on the ice next to her.

“Hi Timo Meier, Stanley Cup champion.” Emma greets him with a huge, teary grin. Then her and Lio are in his arms. Tears splash out onto Timo’s jersey, not that anyone would notice with how wet it already is.

“You won!” Lio giggles to his dad. “Puck!” He hands Timo the puck he flipped his son from warm ups. It now has Emma’s writing on it. She wasn’t sure exactly how to tell him, but once the puck hit Lio’s hands earlier, she knew this was it. She just needed Timo to win in order for it to be perfect.

Timo Meier, Stanley Cup Champion, Husband, Father of 2!

Timo tilts his head as he reads it, then snaps his gaze to his wife. His blue eyes are widened like saucers. For a man who refused to come in her mouth weeks ago, he sure looks shocked at how his wife could be carrying his child again.

“Wait, what? How!?”

“We can recreate it later.” She smirks. Timo pauses, then connects the dots.

“No… baby, but how?”

“You insisted on not coming in my mouth, remember? About 6 weeks ago?”

“I….okay that’s on me.” He takes Lio from her and gives him a smooch. “6 weeks… you been keeping this from me?” Emma nods her head.

“You had a few other priorities, no?” Timo scoffs.

“You know where you lie in all of this.” Again, Emma nods; she’s number one. She reaches for Lio, smoothing his jersey back down his body where it had ridden up against Timo’s equipment. Nervously, her hands reach for her husband next, stepping closer again so she can whisper to him.

“Are you happy?” Emma asks, unsure. Her fingers hold the back of his neck to keep them close. He looks at her and she’s got tears in her eyes. Even though she knows this time is different, old feelings from this moment with Lio are right there below the surface, making her stomach bubbly.

“Wha- yes, Em. Of course I am!” He chuckles. A hand comes to her cheek so he can hold her face close to his and kiss her. “I’ve been wanting this. So much. You know that.” Emma nods then presses their lips together. It’s a soft, sweet kiss they never want to end.

“We have a baby!” Lio cheers. Timo cups Lio’s head against his shoulder to quiet the announcement from reaching outside their little huddle.

“Our baby, huh?” Timo smiles, leaning down to kiss Emma again. “I love you. So much. So lucky to do this all over again with you.”

Suddenly, Emma is snatched from Timo’s arms by the Devils captain. Nico lifts his sister up, twirling her around as her husband frantically gasps.

“Hey, Hey, HEY! Nico, put her down!”

Emma cuts Timo with a look as Nico puts her back on her boots.

“It’s fine, T.” Emma assures her cranky husband. Emma wraps her arms around Nico’s shoulders to hug him. His long brown hair flops in front of his face as he hugs her deeply. “I am so proud of you.” She tells her little brother. “But who do you think you are laying out to block shots like that?” She asks, pulling away and shoving at his chest.

“I don’t know.” Nico answers honestly with a laugh. “Lee! Come see me!” Nico turns his attention to the boy in Timo’s arms. Lio practically dives into Nico’s chest. With free hands now, Timo comes to his wife, wrapping her into a tight hug. The smell is triggering to Emma who pats his back for him to let her go.

“I love you so much, but you stink.”

“Here we go again.” Timo teases her, rolling his eyes. But when he looks back at his wife, he’s drowning in obvious love.

Another baby is joining their perfect world. Timo is a Stanley Cup champion now. What else could this little family want?

Emma glances over to where Lexi is returning to the ice with Lucie. She’s got little pom poms in her pony tail and adorable red boots on her feet with black leggings and a tiny Devils jersey. Lucie reaches for her uncle Timo when she sees him. Lexi and Emma line the two hockey players up with the kids, snapping pictures of them together.

Seeing her husband with their niece, Emma can’t help but ask the universe for one more thing: a baby girl.

Read more Timo and Emma here.

#tm: loving & leaving #Timo Meier x oc #Timo Meier imagine #nil imagine #nhl fan fiction #hockey writing #hockey fan fiction

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soldiersareyourprotectors · 7 months ago

Text

Ethan Marks was a man of ambition, intellect, and unparalleled determination. At just twenty-nine, his muscular frame and impeccably tailored suits made him the epitome of a successful businessman and got him on the cover of multiple finance magazines. Groomed from a young age to take over Marks Enterprises, the billion-dollar company his father had built from the ground up, Ethan was on the cusp of achieving everything he had ever dreamed of. He had a luxurious penthouse with a breathtaking view of the city, a promising future, and the respect of the corporate world. But that day, after a grueling eighteen-hour shift, everything would change.

The penthouse door clicked shut behind Ethan as he stepped into the silent, expansive space. The city skyline glistened through the floor-to-ceiling windows, a testament to his hard-earned success. He was only stopping by to drop off some documents and freshen up before heading out again-he had a crucial dinner with some wealthy clients later that evening. All he could think of was a quick shower and maybe a change of clothes before the dinner. But before he could take another step, a sharp pain exploded at the back of his skull. The room spun wildly around him before everything faded into darkness.

When Ethan awoke, he was stripped and tightly bound to his own bed. The silk sheets beneath him felt cold against his bare skin, a stark contrast to the heat of panic surging through his veins. He thrashed against the restraints, but they were expertly tied, giving him no room for escape. His attempts to call for help were stifled by the gag secured tightly around his mouth. Heart pounding, he stilled as he heard the door creak open, dread pooling in his stomach.

A figure stepped into the room, and Ethan's initial relief at seeing a police uniform quickly turned to horror as he recognized the face. It was his twin brother, Aiden. The very image of himself, but with a sinister gleam in his eye. Aiden should have been rotting in a cell, far removed from Ethan's life. Yet here he was, standing in Ethan's sanctuary, a twisted smirk on his lips.

"Miss me, brother?" Aiden's voice was a cruel echo of Ethan's own, filled with dark amusement. "You see, the cop transporting me to another prison wasn't very careful. I borrowed his uniform for a little trip. I had lots of fun with his athletic body, in and out of uniform if you know what I mean. Sad I had to ditch his naked body later in a trench, though. I wasn't quite finished with my intimate desires."

Aiden's words twisted like a knife in Ethan's gut. The implications were chilling, each syllable dripping with malice. Aiden's enjoyment of his crime added a sickening layer to Ethan's horror. Ethan's muffled screams filled the room as Aiden approached, a chuckle escaping his lips. He began to strip off the police uniform, revealing the sculpted body Ethan knew all too well.

Aiden then took his time, savoring every moment as he dressed in Ethan's expensive suit, the fabric hugging his body perfectly. He picked up Ethan's briefs, Calvin Klein ones made of the finest cotton, and slid them on, adjusting them with a smirk. Ethan's face burned with humiliation as Aiden took pleasure in each step of the transformation.

Next, Aiden pulled on a pair of over-the-calf socks, the silk material sliding smoothly over his calves. He looked over his shoulder at Ethan, who was watching in helpless fury and despair. Tears welled up in Ethan's eyes, spilling over as Aiden continued.

Aiden slipped into the crisp white dress shirt, buttoning it up meticulously. He tucked it into the tailored pants, fastening the belt with a flourish. Ethan's chest tightened with each piece of his life Aiden claimed. Aiden then began to tie the silk tie, his fingers moving deftly, ensuring it was perfectly knotted. The suit jacket came next, fitting Aiden as perfectly as it did Ethan. Aiden smoothed down the lapels, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

Finally, Aiden picked up Ethan's expensive double monk strap shoes. He held them up to his nose and inhaled deeply, a look of twisted satisfaction crossing his face. "Even your shoes smell of success," he mocked, before slipping them on and fastening the straps with a practiced hand. He stood up, adjusting his stance and admiring his reflection in the mirror.With a final touch, Aiden ran his fingers through his hair, fixing it to perfectly match Ethan's usual style. The resemblance was now so striking that even those closest to Ethan would be fooled. The transformation was complete. Aiden had become Ethan in every visible way.

"Don't bother trying to scream," Aiden said, adjusting his tie one last time. "No one's going to hear you. And besides, l've planned this for months. I switched our fingerprints in the police system. As far as the world is concerned, you're me, and I'm you."

Ethan's eyes widened with the realization of what this meant. Aiden wasn't just escaping prison; he was stealing Ethan's life. The company, the wealth, the future-it was all about to be taken by a man with nothing to lose. The sheer audacity of Aiden's plan was mind-boggling, the meticulousness terrifying.

Aiden stepped closer, bending down to look Ethan in the eye. "Enjoy your new accommodations, brother. I've got a company to run and a dinner to attend with some very important clients. They're expecting you, after all."

With that, Aiden left, locking the door behind him. The click of the lock echoed through the room, sealing Ethan's fate.

#muscular men #stolen body #stolen clothes #stolen life #body swap #male body swap #male transformation

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infinite-orangepeel · 2 years ago

Text

kas!eddie/monstefucker!steve: pt. 2

read pt. 1 here !!

steve never thought he’d see eddie munson again. but there was nothing in this world or any other that could have stopped him from venturing back down to the depths of hell to save him once he realized he was alive.

after dragging him out of the upside down two weeks ago, they’d kissed, touched, fucked, told secrets, cuddled, and cried together. it was absolute bliss.

steve felt like he’d been transported to wonderland. so he didn’t hesitate to move eddie into his house in order to help him recover and heal. everything seemed fine and strangely normal.

eddie was still eddie. a bit different on the outside, but on the inside—his wicked sense of humor, selfless heart, nerdy interests—all remained the same.

except for the fact that he was kind of oddly possessive over steve.

which steve didn’t really mind because he was so used to dating people that couldn’t give less of a shit about his well being. the amount of times he’d shown up to a date with obvious marks or bruises on his arms after fighting supernatural creatures and had them ignored was off the charts.

by stark contrast; eddie watched his every move, protected him from harm (including from mundane things like hot stoves and rainy weather), called him ‘beloved’ ‘perfect’ and ‘mate.’

but if there was one thing steve was learning that eddie hated—it was the thought of anyone else laying a finger on steve. especially in a romantic or sexual sense.

which was how they ended up here.

steve fucked up. he fucked up badly.

of course, steve doesn’t realize how badly until eddie—or; this new super strong, muscular, bloodthirsty killer, undead in a way that still doesn’t quite compute version of eddie—is pinning him to the bed within seconds of him walking in the door post-work. name badge still attached to his polo.

“holy fuck! jesus, eds! i literally just got home. give a guy a minute to decompress!” steve’s words are vastly ineffective and get muffled into the pillow as eddie makes quick work of his clothes.

“shut up. be quiet. face down. my turn.”

he strips steve down to his gray briefs with little ceremony. steve groans as he listens to the seams of his family video uniform rip—sharp claws grazing his skin as the fabric falls to the wayside in tattered shreds.

how many times can he tell keith his dog ate his uniform before he gets fired?

doomed to be fired or not, it doesn’t matter, because steve’s so gone for eddie munson that he’d give up his job, dignity, and livelihood just to keep him happy.

he wags his ass back and forth to taunt, play, and entice. not that he needs to with how eddie’s acting, but because he wants to. he wants to rile eddie up even more.

“someone missed me, hm? can’t stay away from my pussy, can you? such a perv, munson,” steve jokes, but his laughter’s cut off when he receives a sharp slap to his ass. it’s certain to bruise.

“who the fuck touched you? who thought they were good enough to get so close, huh? where are they? i’ll kill them,” eddie’s voice is dark, deep, dripping otherworldly ichor and heat.

“n-no one! no one touched me, eddie! i swear! you can trust me!” steve always finds it alarming how easily his cock starts throbbing when eddie threatens to kill someone on his behalf.

but that’s neither here nor there. right now all he can think about is cumming and surviving, but mostly cumming.

eddie’s fully naked. steve has no idea when that happened or how, but suddenly his briefs—his brand new calvin klein’s—are being bitten off and discarded along with the rest of his clothes while the thick, leaking, barbed dick of his ‘friend’s’ is rubbing between his ass cheeks. it slips and slides and makes noises that would have definitely embarrassed the hell out of steve prior to this. squelching obscenely.

“who is she? why did she touch you? smells like girl. you smell like girl. don’t like it. hate it. hate her,” eddie’s crying which breaks steve’s heart, but he’s grown used to this too.

“it’s okay. you’re okay, eds. you have me. we’re safe. we’re in our nest,” steve says as calmly as possible, “no one’s going to hurt me and if they tried—you’d protect me, wouldn’t you?”

“always protect you, stevie. always,” he cries into steve’s skin, breathing hot and heavy. steve twists to grab his hand and squeezes three consecutive times.

“i know. i’m so proud of you. i’m so lucky,” he adds.

all of ‘new eddie’s’ emotions are insanely heightened in this way. he’s volatile, temperamental, and loves harder than anyone steve’s ever known. it’s terrifying and beautiful.

something clicks in steve’s head. a very vague, seemingly inconsequential moment from earlier that day. he needs to be more careful.

“baby, listen—it’s not what you think. this girl i used to go out with—years ago,” he stresses that part to dilute the importance, “came into family video today and she hugged me to say hi. we caught up for a minute. that’s all! and then she left.”

“don’t want to share, stevie. mine. you’re mine,” he’s nuzzling into the side of steve’s neck and licking at his throat, “mine. mine. mine.”

“yours. all yours. always yours.”

steve breathes a sigh of relief as eddie starts purring—that’s the closest thing he can compare it to—against him and rocks his hips back to let him know everything’s going to be okay. he still wants to be fucked, bred, filled.

“need to get rid of her scent. make you clean. make you mine again,” eddie grunts and lines himself up with steve’s hole. his hole, which, is still dripping and gaping from the events of that morning.

“good. that’s real good, baby. that’s what i’m here for. take what you need.”

eddie likes to cum inside him before he goes to work as a way of marking his territory since he can’t follow steve out into the world outside of this house (for now).

most days, steve wakes up with that huge cock buried in his ass. usually already pumped full with three or four loads and somehow eddie will still be rock hard and insatiably horny. nothing quells his constant arousal.

steve jumps when eddie’s tongue dips past his rim and begins lapping at his inner walls. eddie grips him by the waist, hands encompassing him with ease, and holds him in place. he finds his spot quickly and presses up into it with the tip of his tongue.

“taste like mine,” eddie slurps and then gathers a mouthful of saliva to spit directly into steve’s ass. it tickles, makes everything sloppier just as eddie likes it, “put babies in you this morning. going to put more babies in you now.”

it’s not exactly the truth but the possibility of pregnancy—specifically of eddie getting him pregnant—makes his dick ache for release and hang heavy between his legs.

“yes, sir. please, sir.”

“good human. good stevie,” eddie praises.

steve shivers from head to toe and whines into the pillow. his back arches to give eddie a better angle and he reaches around to spread his ass as far apart as possible so eddie can eat him out properly.

as he licks into him, steve gets a funny idea in the back of his mind. it’s risky given eddie’s physical prowess and unhinged state, but he’s feeling bratty.

“there is one other thing—she did tell me i looked hot in my uniform, but don’t worry i don’t think she meant anything serious by it,” steve bites his lip and smirks to himself.

he likes when eddie’s rough. he wants eddie to be rough with him.

the reality of the situation plays out so much better than it ever could have in steve’s imagination.

eddie flips him onto his back in one swift motion. kicks out his legs from underneath him and growls deep in the back of his throat.

steve sees his face finally and mewls. he’s fucking gorgeous. his eyes are blown out—pupils the size of the full moon. his sharp, elongated incisors are visible and bared. he’s snarling, panting, and his dick is swollen to the point that it’s slapping against his stomach with every move and barely fits between his thighs. it’s going to hurt like hell and steve wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything. he’s ready for eddie to break him.

“stay,” eddie orders him as he pushes steve’s knees into his chest and holds him by the ankles.

he’s drooling which should be gross, but steve opens his mouth to catch the droplets like they’re snowflakes. he moans on each swallow and eddie licks over his mouth in a sloppy half-kiss to express his pride.

and when eddie enters him in one forceful stroke, steve screams bloody murder. he sobs, whites out as eddie thrusts without pause. as he renters consciousness, he finds a puddle of his own cum pooling in his belly button.

a second orgasm building while eddie dips down to lap at his milky release. gathers it all in his mouth and feeds it to steve from the fat part of his tongue.

“thank you,” steve moans, as his body gets moved up and down the bed by sheer force and strength, “thank you for making me cum. thank you for making me yours. please breed me. please get me pregnant so girls won’t flirt with me anymore.”

eddie pins him down further, bending him past the point of comfort. steve’s a human pretzel, contorted in ways he didn’t think possible. eddie’s hips snap into him and steve knows it’s only a matter of time before his barbs will lock into place.

“my stevie,” he punctuates his words with bites to steve’s nipples, suckles on them and drags the sharps of his teeth over the buds to tease, “keep you safe. protect you. give you my babies.”

eddie’s trembling. tears back in his eyes. this is emotional for him. steve’s surprised to find that he’s welling up too despite the filth and pleasure.

“come on, eddie. cum in me. get rid of her. make me forget she exists. i’ll never think about her again,” steve whines, desperate to feel the spread of warmth in his sore hole. it purifies him every time. heals him.

the barbs take hold, lock in, and eddie cums with a violent cry. he chokes steve out while he does it, drags his talons down his chest and marks him up. and steve cums moments later, watching eddie’s gruesome lust turn into a soft smile of satisfaction and adoration.

he’s purring and rutting into steve ceaselessly. hips rolling in circles as he bends to lick steve clean. drags his tongue from top to bottom as his cock pumps seemingly endless spend into steve’s body.

by the end, his stomach is fuller and more rounded. be it from a baby or otherwise, they’ll have to wait to find out.

taglist (message me to be added or removed at any time <3): @estrellami-1, @disastardly, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @the-redthread, @asbealthgn, @bestofbucky, @vampireinthesun, @carlyv, @shrimply-a-menace, @lordrrascal, @jjoesjonas, @malachitedevil, @anxiouseds, @feraleddiekinninghours, @gay-little-bitch, @jhrc666, @pinkdaisies1998, @mcneen, @perseus-notjackson, @eiddets, @corroded-coffin-groupie, @three-possums-playing-human, @stevesbipanic, @plutoshelm, @arkenstoned, @indiearr, @they-reap-what-we-sow, @gleek4twd

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vampireapple · 2 years ago

Text

Beware Human Fangirls

Humans will pack bond with anything. Anything. Even imaginary things. Yes, really.

. . .

Alien: I would like to meet your friend Harry. You seem fond of him, and he has led an interesting life. Please introduce me.

Human: Oh, sure, let me you the first book.

Alien: Do I need to present the book to Harry?

Human: No? I can get you the audio version if you want.

Alien: I just want to meet Harry.

Human: … Do you think Harry is a real person?

Alien: Of course he is real. You speak of him often.

Human: Oh boy. Um, well, I think we need to have a little talk…

. . .

Alien 1: You know Human Mara’s friend Edward?

Alien 2: The pale one who is always cold?

Alien 1: Yeah. Him.

Alien 2: … Is he okay?

Alien 1: He doesn’t exist!

Alien 2: He died! Oh, no!

Alien 1: He’s not real.

Alien 2: What?

Alien 1: He’s imaginary. Some human woman had a dream and wrote a book and then Human Mara pack bonded with something not real.

Alien 2: … Are you sure?

Alien 1: Yes.

Alien 2: That sounds fake.

. . .

Human 1 and Human 2: *bickering*

Alien: What are they arguing about?

Human 3: Who’s better, Bruce Wayne or Tony Stark. Its stupid though, one’s DC and one’s Marvel, so its hard to truly compare them.

Alien: Why compare two humans instead of the two countries?

Human 3: What countries?

Alien: Marvel and DC.

Human 3: Those aren’t countries, they’re comics.

Alien: Comics?

Human 3: Yeah, kinda like cartoons in book form. We read them for fun.

Alien: So… these two people they’re arguing about aren’t real?

Human 3: Nope. But they’re still wrong. Obviously the best is Calvin and Hobbs.

Human 1: That’s two, doesn’t count!

All humans: *heated argument*

Alien: *goes to make more notes in their ‘Humans are Crazy’ book*

#humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans are deathworlders #earth is space australia #haso #humans are crazy #aliens #fangirls #humans are wierd

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protectxthem · 15 days ago

Note

who gives the other advice/comfort about dating issues

who jokingly moves in for the kiss when someone asks if they’re a couple

who has to bust or bail the other out of jail

who shamelessly cheats at games by reaching over to cover the other’s eyes

who says “your pants would look better on their floor” to the other’s potential crush

Lukas and Calvin again?

leave a brotp/platonic ship in my ask and i’ll tell you: | Accepting

who gives the other advice/comfort about dating issues

Calvin gives Lukas all the advice and comfort

who jokingly moves in for the kiss when someone asks if they’re a couple

Calvin lol

who has to bust or bail the other out of jail

Calvin

who shamelessly cheats at games by reaching over to cover the other’s eyes

Lukas

who says “your pants would look better on their floor” to the other’s potential crush

Calvin, he's unashamed about it too

#🌌 incoming portals #🌌 metas (anon)#Calvin Stark tag

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satansapostle6 · 1 year ago

Text

Characters I Write For

Please message me with any ideas/requests! I need ideas(short fics or series)

Mostly write for fem!readers. I can write fluff, angst, smut, etc. If I’m not comfortable with something I can let you know

Character/Actor List

Favorite Characters/Actors To Write For

Draco Malfoy, Weasley twins

Jesse Pinkman

Paul Dano characters

Josh Hutcherson characters

Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel

Damon Salvatore, Silas, Klaus Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson

Rodrick Heffley

Bellamy Blake

Ezra Fitz(should probably make it clear I don’t condone)

Ian Duncan(Community)

Charlie(It’s Always Sunny)

Luke Castellan, Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase

Finnick Odair

Tommy Shelby

Killian Hook

Paul Dano

Klitz(The Girl Next Door)

Dwayne Hoover(Little Miss Sunshine)

Edward Nashton(The Batman)

Calvin Weir-Fields(Ruby Sparks)

Brian Wilcox(Fast Food Nation)

Joby Taylor(For Ellen)

Nick Flynn(Being Flynn)

Josh Hutcherson

Peeta Mellark(The Hunger Games)

Mike Schmidt(FNAF)

Josh Futturman(Future Man)

Devon Bostick

Rodrick Heffley(Diary of a Wimpy Kid)

Jasper Jordan(The 100)

Cillian Murphy

Tommy Shelby(Peaky Blinders)

Dr. Jonathan Crane(The Dark Knight)

Neil(Watching the Detectives)

Christian Bale

Patrick Bateman(American Psycho)

Bruce Wayne(The Dark Knight)

Breaking Bad

Jesse Pinkman

Jane Margolis

Saul Goodman

Harry Potter(Golden Trio Era)

Harry Potter

Ron Weasley

Hermione Granger

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Ginny Weasley

Luna Lovegood

Neville Longbottom

Draco Malfoy

Pansy Parkinson

Blaise Zabini

Theodore Nott

Daphne Greengrass

Adrian Pucey

Terence Higgs

Harry Potter(Marauders Era)

James Potter

Remus Lupin

Sirius Black

Lily Potter

Severus Snape

Regulus Black

Lucius Malfoy

Narcissa Malfoy

Bellatrix Lestrange

Arthur Weasley

Harry Potter(Fantastic Beasts Era)

Newt Scamander

Queenie Goldstein

Leta Lestrange

Percy Jackson

Annabeth Chase

Luke Castellan

Thalia Grace

Jason Grace

+ Gods

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotchner

Emily Prentiss

Derek Morgan

Penelope Garcia

David Rossi

Elle Greenaway

Cat Adams

Megan Kane

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

John Winchester

Mary Winchester

Castiel

Charlie Bradbury

Rowena McLeod

Adam Milligan

Lucifer

Ruby

Jessica Moore

Gabriel

Benny Lafitte

Bela Talbot

Jo Harvelle

Ellen Harvelle

Superstore

Jonah Simms

Amy Sosa

Marcus White

Garrett McNeill

Dina Fox

Cheyenne Lee

Bo Thompson

Gilmore Girls

Lorelai Gilmore

Christopher Hayden

Luke Danes

Logan Huntzberger

Jess Mariano

The Hunger Games

Peeta Mellark

Katniss Everdeen

Gale Hawthorn

Finnick Odair

Johanna Mason

Haymitch Abernathy

Pretty Little Liars

Aria Montgomery

Spencer Hastings

Emily Fields

Hannah Marin

Mona Vanderwaal

Alison Di Laurentis

Jason Di Laurentis

Ezra Fitz

Toby Cavanaugh

Jenna Marshall

Caleb Rivers

The Vampire Diaries

Damon Salvatore

Stefan Salvatore

Katherine Pierce

Elena Gilbert

Jeremy Gilbert

Bonnie Bennett

Caroline Forbes

The Originals

Klaus Mikaelson

Elijah Mikaelson

Kol Mikaelson

Rebekah Mikaelson

Freya Mikaelson

Hayley Marshall

Marcel Gerard

Davina Claire

Twilight

Edward Cullen

Bella Swan

Alice Cullen

Jasper Hale

Rosalie Hale

Emmett Cullen

Victoria

The 100

Bellamy Blake

Octavia Blake

Jasper Jordan

Shameless

Fiona Gallagher

Lip Gallagher

Carl Gallagher

Frank Gallagher

Mandy Milkovich

Kevin Ball

Veronica Fisher

The Bear

Carmy Berzatto

Sydney Adamu

Richie Jerimovich

Suicide Squad

Harley Quinn

Rick Flag

Blackguard

Once Upon A Time

Emma Swan

Regina Mills

Killian Jones

Rumplestiltskin

Robin Hood

Ruby

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Community

Jeff Winger

Abed Nadir

Annie Edison

Troy Barnes

Ian Duncan

It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia

Charlie Kelly

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Dee Reynolds

Mac

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House MD

Greg House

Robert Chase

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Lisa Cuddy

Parks and Recreation

Ben Wyatt

April Ludgate

Andy Dwyer

MCU, Marvel

Steve Rogers

Tony Stark

Natasha Romanoff

Bruce Banner

Wanda Maximoff

Loki Laufeyson

Peter Parker(Holland, Garfield, Maguire)

Gamora

Peter Quill

Scott Lang

Steven Strange

Jessica Jones

Wade Wilson

DC CW

Oliver Queen

Barry Allen

Felicity Smoak

Laurel Lance

Sara Lance

Malcom Merlyn

John Constantine

Leonard Snart

Ray Palmer

Caitlyn Snow

Julian Albert

Rip Hunter

10 Things I Hate About You

Patrick Verona

Cameron James

New Girl

Jess Day

Nick Miller

Schmidt

Other Characters

Charlie Kelmeckis(Perks Of Being A Wallflower)

Jesse Eisenberg Characters

Dr. Who(10th Doctor)

Will Probably Add More

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superblysubpar · 2 years ago

Note

“As soon as we’re both sober, we can do every dirty little thing you ever dreamed of.”

Might Love Me, Baby

bestfriend!eddie munson x fem! reader

summary: Eddie and you spend a summer evening learning new things while getting high. | my blog and this fic are 18+ Only, NSFW

the song: New to You by Normani, Tinashe, Calvin Harris & Offset

2,869 words

warnings: Smoking weed (reader and Eddie both high), making out, SMUT (oral -reader receiving / insinuations of more smut)

Soothing, soft yet slightly calloused thumbs press up and down your lower spine. Skin buzzing as a hum to match the cicadas outside your window crawls out of your chest.

Hazy, warm, and heavy summer air blows into the room, curtains dancing along to the quiet record playing. The heat of the fading day filling the room is your shared excuse to peel more and more layers off in front of each other.

Well, and the high filling both of your bodies.

Down to a pair of pajama shorts and a thin tank top, Eddie still in his jeans and a band t-shirt he's rolled the sleeves of. Turning to look back at him, you find his curls are sticking to his forehead, cheeks flushed pink, brown eyes roaming over your body, and a joint smoking in between plush pink lips.

It's unfair for him to look like that. Should be illegal for his thumbs to feel like they do on your skin and make you moan like you just did.

His eyes peek at yours at the noise, his cheeks flushing pinker and you steal the joint from between his lips and face the other direction again, blaming the heat and high for the way your body warms and not his blush.

Inhaling slowly as rough pads of fingertips graze your sides, pushing your shirt up slightly as his thumbs roam higher up your spine. Exhaling as you both make a move you can't take back at almost the same time. His fingertips brush the sides of your braless chest as you push and roll your hips back, the curve of your ass hitting the erection he's been unsuccessful in hiding.

Record crackling as the album ends, both of you hold your breath waiting for the other to say something - do something.

It's Eddie that finally acts first, fingers brushing back down as he clears his throat behind you, "Sorry."

Body thrumming with what could have just happened, you seize the moment and roll onto your back, playing coy, “About what?” you bring the joint to your lips and watch his eyes look anywhere but your chest, hands still suspended just over your hips like he was prepared to keep going with the massage.

Eddie clears his throat again and tugs at the collar of his shirt as you sit up, legs relaxed and laid out between his folded thighs. Exhaling, you place a hand on the ripped denim of his knee and laugh, “Relax, Eddie.”

He rolls his eyes, fingers spinning his rings and finally makes eye contact with you again as he mumbles, “I am relaxed. Relaxed is my middle name. It’s just,” he tugs at his collar again as you catch his eyes glancing down at your chest. Wiping his brow with the back of his hand when he looks away, he continues to mumble, “Just hate how hot it is.”

Shrugging as you extract yourself from underneath him, using his thigh to hop off the bed, fingers dangerously close to brushing his hard length that he’s quick to place his arm in front of, you hand him the joint. Padding over to your record player to change the album, head and gaze cast down to the bright red polish stark against the carpet, fiddling with the needle as you try to hide the eagerness in your voice as you suggest, “Well, take your shirt off then.”

Eddie’s coughing fit causes your bottom lip to pull between your teeth as you start a new record. Turning to him and rolling your eyes, “Eddie, jesus, I’ve seen you without your shirt on,” you steal the joint back from him and laugh, “Remember the party at the lake last year?”

He nods as you exhale, “You were in the lake, and I shotgunned with Warner Reed, oh my god, it was terrible, bad breath and just awful.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow under his sweaty bangs, his eyes stay focused on your lips as he bites at his thumb, mumbling a sort of hum from the back of his throat and shrugs.

Handing him the joint, you mimic his shrug, “What’s that? Why are you shrugging?”

Eddie’s lips mold around the rolled paper, eyes on yours as you try to keep your legs from pressing together at the image of his lips wrapped around the burning paper and his hollowed cheeks and jawline cast in the golden fading light. He speaks through blowing out the smoke, “I’ve never shotgunned, so,” he shrugs again, “I wouldn’t know what was good or not.”

A scoff falls from you, “What? You, Eddie Munson, have never shotgunned?”

He shakes his head no and your insides squirm thinking of how you couldn’t have planned it better if you tried. Your hand finds his shoulder and you sit next to him on the bed, bare thigh pressing against his denim one.

Before you lose your nerve, you turn your body towards him more, leaning into his space, and he inhales sharply, “Wh-What are you doing?”

A timid smile falling upon your lips and you gesture to take the joint, “Shotgunning. I’m gonna smoke, and instead of blowing it out normally, I’ll lean in, close to your mouth, and you’ll inhale it.”

“I know how it-” he interrupts, rolling his eyes.

Your fingers tap on his shoulder as you hum, interrupting him right back, “Sure, but you’ve never done it so-”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t know how it works,” his hand lands on your hip, finger resting on your exposed skin just under the hem, casual, like the skin to skin contact isn’t sending electric shockwaves through your body.

Squeezing his shoulder, you laugh, “Alright, alright.”

Eddie’s brown eyes seem to grow larger - warmer. A fondness in his gaze as he watches you bring the joint to your mouth, an audible gulp from him as you slowly inhale. Your hand glides from his shoulder to curl around his neck, slick skin and tense muscles below your fingertips, playing with the edge of his collar. Peering into his eyes for a final confirmation, you tilt your head and remove the joint, leaning further into his space until he parts his lips as you open yours. Eddie’s eyes close as the smoke slips from your mouth and into his. Your lips brush his, a gentle and barely there pass, and neither of you move. His still closed, you let your eyes fall slowly as you hesitantly move your mouth against his, wrapping your lips around his bottom one. Not quite a shotgun any more, and not quite a kiss.

Heart hammering in your chest as you wait for what feels like an eternity until Eddie’s hand squeezes your waist. His mouth moves against you, top lip pressing to meet yours and a moan escapes him as you squeeze the back of his neck lightly. Tongue slipping out, you lick across his bottom lip as his hands wrap around your back, pulling you closer to him. Reaching across his body, you peek an eye open to rest the joint in the ashtray, Eddie’s hands on your hips, the cool metal of his rings stinging your hot skin as you let your leg fall over his, straddling his thighs.

You’ve wanted to kiss Eddie like this for years, and as your hands push his shoulders back down onto the bed, you’ve never been more thankful for Warner Reed, the Indiana summer heat, and your best friend’s job providing courage in the form of weed to finally do so. Bodies slipping together even with clothes between you, your hands dip under his shirt. Fingertips grazing up his side and he shivers despite the heavy heat filling the room, peeling his lips from yours as his hands squeeze your hips. Eddie’s eyes are dazed, a hazy warmth to them as he swallows harshly, tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip. His hands folded into fists, knuckles roam up your body and he closes his eyes, “We…” eyes opening as his hands find your neck, thumbs rubbing small circles, “We should stop.”

You can’t be bothered to try to decipher what he means, it doesn’t seem like he wants to stop. Your soft and thin shorts let you feel the hard bulge pressing into you as you roll your hips, nose rubbing along his sharp jawline, “What?”

Eddie’s breath is hot against your neck, goosebumps rising on your body as his whisper tinged with a whine hits your ear, “How high are you? Because I promise you, if you wanna do more of this, as soon as we’re both sober, we can do every dirty little thing you ever dreamed of.”

Your reaction is involuntary, a moan escapes your lips. At the sound, his is equally unable to control, a jolt of his hips into yours and squeeze of his fingers on your shoulders, a quiet, “Fuck,” falls from his lips.

Pulling away from him enough to look in his eyes, your fingers in his hair tangle more, “I’m not too high to know I want this, that I want you,” nudging your nose against his, “I’ve always wanted you Eddie.” He sighs, his hands rubbing circles into your bare shoulders as your noses slide against each other’s. Heavy breathing, chests moving in tandem, sweaty skin pressed together as your eyes lock on one another, telling each other it’s okay to let this happen.

A moment of freefall, the precipice of change, the minute the day dreams become reality - a charge to the air, a feeling you wish you could capture as you look into each other’s eyes, over too quickly and yet not quick enough.

Eddie’s lips crash into yours, hungrier and sloppier than earlier and your body is rolling before you realize, his weight on top of you, pressing you into your bed. Mumbling against your lips, “Seriously, tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

Your fingers tangled into his hair tug slightly as you gasp around his mouth at the roll of his hips, “Don’t you dare.”

He laughs quietly, thumb brushing your jaw, his lips leaving one, two, three quick pecks before they move across your cheek. Wet and hot open mouthed kisses trailing down your neck. Wrapping your legs around his waist and back arching off of the bed as his mouth latches onto the sensitive spot you told him Matthew Jasons found at the Halloween party two years ago, body buzzing from the fact that he remembered.

Large hands gripping at your stomach, shoving your shirt up as he continues to suck a bruise into your neck. The thought of walking around with his mark on you made a shiver run down your spine. His moan against your skin as his fingers brush the edge of your chest, this time definitely on purpose, causes your legs to tighten around his waist.

Detaching himself from your neck, his kisses trail down your collarbone, meeting the bunched up shirt. Your hands locked around the back of his head and legs around his waist making him stuck halfway and he laughs against your skin, "Sweetheart, work with me here."

Sure, Eddie's called you sweetheart loads of times. But this was different, and he didn't realize the weight of it until your breath hitched at the petname. A little dizzy at his words, you watch his warm brown eyes start to be taken over by his blown out pupils, the golden light fading to oranges and pinks settling against his skin. Colors and the moment sweet like summer sherbert and you think you might just be in love with Eddie, but no way you're saying that to him yet.

You think he knows though, as he reaches behind him, pulling your hand from his hair, bringing it up to his mouth. Silky lips pressing a small kiss to your knuckles and you practically melt underneath him. A confidence about his actions now that he’s seen the dazed and lovestruck look on your face. He finishes detangling himself from you, arms crossing and pulling off his shirt in a fluid motion. Palms finding his pale chest almost immediately again, you let them roam over his exposed skin, tracing the once hidden tattoos and start to pull him down to your mouth again.

Lips salty from your sweat, sweet from the jolly ranchers you’d both been sucking on all day, and a hint of weed. Smooth and fluid movements, tongues sliding together, like your sole purpose in life is to kiss the other. Kissing that’s slow and patient, savoring one another as your bodies grind together. Your shirt finally pulled from you as you both whine in protest at the mere seconds your mouths and bodies aren’t connected. Eddie’s hands roam over your skin, calloused fingertips tantalizingly grazing over every curve, dip, and freckle like he was trying to memorize you. Lips detaching from yours only to pant your name against your still moving mouth. Begging him to keep saying your name as you roll your hips against his, fingers dipping down to work on removing his jeans.

His hands rest on either side of your head now, he nudges your nose, your hands stalling as he whispers against your lips, “Can I take care of you, sweetheart?”

All you can do is nod as his hands slide down your body, noses bumping together again as he presses one more chaste kiss to your lips before following his hands. Tugging your shorts off to reveal you hadn’t been wearing underwear either, almost a growl escapes him as he kisses your ankle, tossing the garment as his mouth moves up your leg, his voice cracking, “Jesus Christ.”

The sight of you laid out before him seemed to make him even more frantic, fingers squeezing your soft thighs, mouth kissing up them, nipping your skin gently. And when his lips finally make it to where you desperately wanted him, you squeeze your eyes shut, body tensing. Trying to relax, but Eddie was almost too excited. Nose and lips bumping just shy of where you wanted them, moving away too quickly.

Legs sliding up, resting against his shoulders and you squirm against his harsh movements, “Ed-Eddie-” your hands in his curls, and he hums, refusing to come up for air and you tug on his hair a little, “Slow down, I think you’re-”

He pulls away, gazing up at you with big brown eyes, cheeks darkening, and the cool metal of his rings graze the outside of your thigh as he rests his forehead against the inside, and he sighs, “Not good, is it?”

Your bodies are barely lit now, an almost below the horizon pale pink sun casting you both in soft light. The way his clearly dejected face peers at you could have made your heart explode in your chest and you shake your head quickly, “No, no, it’s good, just…” propping up slightly, you push his bangs across his forehead and smile, “Just take your time, okay? Listen to the music, relax, no rush, I’m not going anywhere, Munson.”

He sighs again, but kisses your thigh before shimmying his body back down. You hold your breath, waiting, as you feel his own, warm and fanning across your sensitive skin. A barely there pressure, you hear him softly hum and your fingers relax in his hair as his nose swipes a straight line up, parting your lips and gliding easily through your slick. Moaning his name as his mouth sucks around your clit, you shamelessly scoot lower, pressing deeper into him, legs slowly falling back to the bed.

Eddie’s tongue swirls around the sensitive button under the seal of his lips, flicking along with the quiet music and you roll your hips against him. His hands find them, pressing you down gently and you whine, body filling with a warmth from your head to your toes. Body fully relaxing into him, his thumbs rub gentle circles into your hip as he slowly moves lower with his lips, nose bumping the swollen nerves now. Your body shivers against the pressure and he angles his head, hitting it again and your hands grip your comforter, needing to chase the feeling and run away from it all at the same time. Eddie’s mouth molds around one of your lips, tugging and sucking gently and your body convulses, shivering from the pleasure tingling throughout every nerve in your body. Encouraged by your reactions, his licks, kisses, and sucking only seem to get slower, relishing in every long sigh, gasp, and whine of his name that he’s able to pull out of you.

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours that Eddie spent taking care of you. Your body melted into the bed, bodies wrapped together. Heavy and warmer than the summer sun that had disappeared, sweaty skin pressed together as your mouths moved in rhythm with the quiet music still playing. Humming into each other in tune with the cicadas that had only grown louder. Soft, soothing, though slightly calloused thumbs drift up and down your spine as Eddie whispers your name into the room now enveloped in a purple and blue dark twilight.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #stranger things fanfiction

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