#first love fic

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Lilac - Jamie Tartt x F!OFC

Lilac (Syringa) - Meaning: First Love, Reminiscence

Summary: Jamie Tartt and Katie Archer were childhood best friends and had planned their futures together, but what happens when childhood ends and it's time to face reality?

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x F!OFC Katie Archer (NO physical description other than a name)

Word Count: 1371

Warnings: Language, takes place mostly pre-show, childhood idealism gets shattered, Jamie's anxious/angry reaction is slightly violent (NOT against reader), mention of Jamie's dad being a crap parent, enduring childhood love

Day 3 of the In Bloom Writing Challenge! I originally wanted this to be a whole series, but couldn't find the right way into it so I condensed it into a short fic. Also, this is my first ever Ted Lasso fic! That show is pure dopamine, I swear. Perhaps a teammate or coach of Jamie's will appear in his own fic later this month? Who knows? Oh wait, I do :D

In Bloom Masterlist

Comments, Likes, Reblogs are always appreciated! Thanks for reading! <3

9 May, 2009

Jamie Tartt and Katie Archer’s Unbreakable Life Plan To Remain Friends Forever

Become pro footballers (in the same city but not on rival teams or they’ll make us stop being friends)

Marry the fittest people we know (models, actors, or royalty ONELY)

Have neighboring houses with a pool that goes across both our backyards and a football pitch

Katie can have as many cats and dogs as she wants and Jamie can’t say anything

Jamie can wear whatever he likes and Katie can’t make fun of him

Our partners have to be best friends too

Our mums will live in our pool houses when they get old

And, the most important rule of all!!!! 

8. Any changes to this life plan MUST be discussed with your best friend, OR ELSE!!!

Signed,

Jamie Tartt 

Emily Archer

_________________

21 March, 2014

“Who is this? And what has she done to kick Renaldo off the wall?” Katie asked, holding the corners of the poster while Jamie taped them. 

“This,” he said, rolling the poster down to reveal the blonde girl holding two footballs in front of her bare chest, “is me future wife, Keely Jones.” 

“But I thought you were going to marry Heidi Klum and I would marry Orlando Bloom? That way we’d be the Klum-and-Blooms,” she joked, referring to their life plan since they were eleven. 

“‘Course I remember, babes, but I think Keely here is more of a sure thing. ‘Sides, she’s closer to our age.” He taped the bottom corners to the wall and stood back, admiring the poster while Katie flopped onto his bed. 

“As long as you’re sure,” she shrugged, opening her maths book. 

A football materialized and Jamie started dribbling, “Wanna go kick the ball ‘round?” 

“No, big test tomorrow, remember?” 

“Dunno why you’re bothering with that,” Jamie fell on his back on his bed next to her, “Don’t need school if you’re gonna be a footballer, yeah?” 

“Even if I played half as well as you, we both know I’d get less than half what you’d make as a footballer,” she said, rolling her eyes at the injustice of unequal pay. 

He rolled over and flipped around so they were parallel to each other and threw his arm over her shoulders, “Don’t worry, babes, I’ll loan ya cash if ya need it.” 

She giggled and shoved him off her, “Well how will you know how much I end up owing you if you won’t study your maths?”

“Fine! Five minutes to study, then we go work on your football skills. Maybe you’ll get so good you can play for a men’s team and get paid what you’re worth.” He smiled at her and she rolled her eyes at him. He was too charming for his own good sometimes. 

_________

5 August 2016 

Jamie perched on the edge of her mattress, absolutely gobsmacked at the news she just shared. “You’re fuckin with me, right? You…you’re just messing with me.” 

“No, ‘m not. I’m going to university,” she confessed, squeezing his hand that she held in both of hers to try and comfort him.

Instead, Jamie looked at her like she’d just confessed to being Jack the Ripper. “But, we were…what about the scouts from City?”

“I turned them down.” 

Jamie exploded then, yanking his hand out of hers, shooting up from where he sat next to her and began pacing. He crossed and uncrossed his arms, ran a hand through his hair, pulled at the strings of his hoodie. His limbs felt like they were too full of electricity.

“So what, all these years, all the plans we made, just fuckin’...don’t matter to ya anymore?” 

“You mean the completely unrealistic plans we made when we were kids? Become top footballers, marry some fit fuckin’ models, have adjoining houses with a pool going across both backyards? Come on!” 

That was the twist of the knife. 

“Fuck you, ya know that? I’ve wanted that all this time, believed in it! It’s all I’ve been workin’ toward since we came up with it! And you just go and fuck up your half…how’m I gonna do it without ya?” 

She reached out for him again but he backed as far away as he could in her small bedroom. “You’re incredible, Jamie, you’re so talented and you’re gonna go far. But it’s not for me.” 

“You mean I’m not for you.” 

“What? Jamie, you’re my best friend!”

“That’s not…we were…fucking FUCK!” Jamie’s brain felt like it was full of fire ants and his stomach lurched. He kicked a hole in the drywall before slamming her bedroom door on his way out.

The very fabric of their friendship had torn and there was no going back. If she didn’t care about him the way he cared about her, then fuck it. He didn’t need her, he would be the best fuckin’ footballer Man City had ever seen and she’d have to watch from wherever it was she ended up, hopefully somewhere miserable. 

He didn’t speak to her for the rest of their break. He didn’t see her off when she moved her things into the dorms. He never responded to her ‘Congratulations!’ text after his first game with Man City. 

The only response she ever got were three dots, appearing and disappearing. 

And then, nothing.

____________

August 5, 2021

Slipping off his jersey, Jamie couldn’t help but think about her. After all this time, he still remembered why he’d chosen 9 as his number. It was hers, her lucky number, her birthday in November, only 20 days after his. 

They’d grown up together, their mums having met at work and becoming best friends. He sometimes heard about Katie’s life on his phone calls with his mum but he hadn’t really listened to any since Katie had decided to give up on their friendship, on their life plan — the one they had come up with together when they were eleven so they’d never have to be apart.

Katie had seen how difficult it was for him to deal with his dad’s frequent appearances and disappearances and wanted him to know she would always be there for him. At the time Jamie had only gone along with it because she insisted that he could have whatever he liked in their future — it wasn’t until she’d announced that she was going to Uni that he realized the only thing he truly wanted from that list was their future. 

Together. 

He didn’t care much what it looked like, as long as it was theirs. As long as she was there at the end of every day. Which is why it devastated him when she left. Why he’d thrown himself into training and took his new life as a football star for granted as much as he had. 

Now that he was back at Richmond and apologized for his behavior, she’d been on his mind more and more.

Did he pop into her mind ever? Had she been following his career? Seen him embarrass himself on that stupid fucking dating show? 

It had only been five years but if he ran into her now, would they even recognize each other? 

It was a sad thought to have about someone he was once so close to — someone he, deep down, knew he had loved, and even deeper down, knew he still loved. It wasn’t like the love he had for Keely, his only long-term relationship amongst the revolving door of fit women he’d dated.

He wished he could describe it better than ‘a love I grew up with,’ or ‘love I didn’t even know was love at the time,’ but alas, Jaime Tartt was no poet.

He finished his post-training routine and made his way out into the summer night. On a whim, he decided to walk home. He needed time to think. About a block away from his house, he pulled out his phone and let his finger hover over ‘Contacts’ but he thought better of it and tucked his phone away. 

Only to pull it out again a few steps later and press her contact before he could chicken out. 

“Here goes nothin',” he said to himself as the phone rang.

[milktrician]

(what the. who threw a wife plot device in the middle of a peak lord meeting)

i thought about this bit at the end of the airplane extras the other day. bro why are you looking at your coworkers like that rn

[astralpenguin]

self care is writing a fic that you’re literally the sole target audience for

[baeshijima]

mr reca fic where he’s suffering a creative slump due to the lack of good scripts (by his standards) from various screenwriters. he feels himself going positively insane with every script he’s given.

it’s too dull. it’s too predictable. this one has no creative flair whatsoever!! that one just doesn’t spark enough imagination!!!

it’s troublesome, really. some think he’s really going through it, while others believe the scripts he’s been given won’t bring him enough money. but really, who cares about monetary value when it is he who cannot even begin to picture himself enjoying the process that comes with each script?

and so that is how he finds himself wandering around aimlessly. sometimes the outdoors is necessary for the mind, and who knows? perhaps he really will find something that will give him a spark. hmm, those trees are looking a little dull. the sky overhead is too cloudy. hm? did he just hear thunder—

something collides into his chest, a choked “oof!” following soon after. he stumbles backwards a little, papers flying through the air around him. he blinks once, twice, at the sight of you on the ground, muttering something under your breath before a sharp gasp escapes you, hastily scrambling to gather the papers fluttering and strewn around.

one such paper falls into his hands. he glances over its contents, skimming through it as he goes to pass it over to you with an apology at the tip of his tongue, only to freeze.

this… this is genius! this is absolutely the pinnacle of writing!! while a little rough around the edges (as drafts usually tend to be), his once clouded mind is now clear, giving way to a blank canvas which slowly depicts the imagery your writing induces. idea after idea pours into his brain as he can visualise exactly what he wants, his body trembling and heart pounding as he insantly fixates on your panicked form still collecting all the fallen papers.

“yes… yes! this is what i was looking for! everything about this is pure artistry! the possibilities are endless, the sky is the limit!!”

this is possibly the happiest and freest he has felt in what seems like eons! seriously, compared to those other mind-numbing scripts this truly is the pinnacle of writing itself.

a laugh full of pure, unadulterated glee escapes him, careful not to crinkle the god-sent paper cradled in his palms. “you! you’re a genius!”

“i’m a wha…?”

he whirls in the direction of the source of the voice, further praises and a proposal for a collaboration on the tip of his tongue, only for his breath to catch in his throat.

you… you’re so radiant! even with that disheveled appearance and absolutely adorable confused expression you’re giving him, he never realised such beauty existed! not only does your writing fill him with endless creativity, but his pounding heart, parched throat and warming skin tells him you’re definitely the main character!

but wait! if you were to be the main character, then would that make him the main character’s love interest? surely he wouldn’t have had such a cliché meet-cute like bumping into each other if he wasn’t the love interest! but what if there is a second love interest? no, no, he can oust them…

you, on the other hand, believe you’re about to get whiplash instead of the man, baffled at how he instantly switched from a maniac to stark silence to muttering senselessly with a dreamy expression.

well, each to their own. you have more pressing matters, and that’s to quickly return home and continue fantasising before you forget the idea! but first, you have to get the last piece of paper back…

“um… sir? can i have my paper back, please?”

in an instant, he kneels in front of you. now that you’re at eye level, he certainly is very handsome. if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought this was some movie or drama plot with him as the main lead! oh, but why is he holding your hands—

“yes, i will spend the rest of my life with you.”

“…what?”

tldr; you’re just a silly writer who daydreams far too much for their own good, and somehow managed to bag top-tier director mr reca with the power of said daydreams. (his ever-growing obsession with you is concerning to say the least but, hey! what genius isn’t at least a little insane?)

[datcravat]

[voidshrub]

Hello Boots n’ Bombs nation I love them so so so much I want to inject them into my bloodstream

[nkogneatho]

This is a PSA for all the writers who exclusively write only fluff and angst:

we love you. we still read your fics. no we don't care if it doesn't have smut in it. it is still valid and it is beautiful. thank you for existing. have a good day.

[atherea]

“It, uh. Had a virus.” 

“So you smashed it?” Bruce, usually quite composed, looked baffled.

“Yeah?” Tim said, like it should be obvious, “I didn’t want it to spread to my other appliances.”

Bruce looked astounded by Tim’s sheer stupidity.

fanart of ch19 of @wesslan's cards on the table, i read this all last night and its been wired in my brain since then oh my god i love all the silly moments in this fic

[keferon]

I don’t know if I got their designs quite right. It’s my first time drawing them :)

Monster hunter au lambo twins ehehe

[number1abbasupporter]

Sirius: i’m gay

James: that’s cool mate

James: everyone has gay thoughts though

Remus:

Peter:

Sirius:

Remus: boy do i have news for you

[stil-lindigo]

it's such an incredible feeling to find an author on ao3 and realise they've been writing fic for 15 years. never let anyone say that people age out of fandom.

[petricorah]

scenes i loved from Real Enough to Get Me Through by @marriedzukka <333 [ids in alt]

[tinseltownie]

I died btw

[pedroshotwifey]

Do you think you could write a nervous Joel fic... like he's older and a single dad and hasn't dated in a REALLY REALLY long time...but he's still really sweet, maybe he has to stop and eat reader cos he's about to cum too soon or something 🤷‍♀️😭

Hey, babe!! So I hope this is what you were hoping for! It's super tender and I did end up listening to Hozier for a good portion of it, so do with that information what you will 😅

Also, I kind of did something a bit different and wrote it more from Joel's perspective, but it's still in 2nd person (pronouns = you)! Pls lmk how you feel about it ❤

Pairing: Older Joel Miller x afab!reader

Tags/warnings: Age gap (not specified), piv sex, oral sex (f), vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, established relationship, (almost) premature ejaculation, accidental love confessions 🤭, self deprecating Joel™, big dick Joel™, kissing, stuff I'm probably forgetting

W/C: 1.9k

Summary: Your and Joel's first time together turns into so much more.

What Matters

“Are you sure, baby?” 

Joel watches as your eyes flick up to him, only kindness and patience in them. Even as you smile warmly and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him to you, he still has a sense of cautiousness in his movements. You’ve probably lost track of how many times he’s asked you if you’re sure. 

“Yes, Joel, I’m sure,” you laugh breathily. 

You’re both lying in his bed, completely bare. There’s a soft summer breeze coming in through the window and rustling the sheer curtains. The sun’s going down, but just barely, causing a perfect golden hue to coat the room. He can’t help but think that you look even more gorgeous than usual in this lighting.

Joel tries to ignore the nervousness in his stomach as he softly kisses your jaw and nuzzles up to you. He’s not stupid, he knows that you know he’s just trying to waste time, but you let him. You’re so fucking sweet like that. Always making him feel so wanted and appreciated. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be with you in this way, but that he’s worried he won’t be perfect for you. He wants to be able to show you affection in the same way that you show him. 

But what if he can’t?

You’re younger, after all, and he’s not been with a woman in so long. Maybe not since Sarah’s mom. If that’s the case, it’s been about fifteen, sixteen years. Point in case, you’re probably used to boys who can last longer and can make you come every time. What if he can’t? What if it’s been so long now, that he only lasts a couple of minutes? 

It terrifies him, the prospect that you may be disappointed in his performance. What if you decide to leave him because he’s not enough to get you off? No, he realizes, you would never do that. You’re so good, so thoughtful and generous and patient. You’d wait for him, help him get back to the point where he used to be. 

But that’s not what he wants. He wants to be good for you now. 

“Joel?” 

His name falling from your lips has his head raising back up. You look into his eyes with a desperation that he simply can’t ignore. 

“Please,” you whisper before planting a feather-light kiss to his lips. He nods slowly before he can think about it. 

“Alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” 

And he does, he knows it. He just hopes he can do it right. 

You’re already prepped. He spent probably half an hour fingering you to orgasm even though you had begged for the real thing each time you fell apart on his hand. It’s another thing he was worried about—being so big. Joel’s not a super cocky man by any means, but he is aware of his…attributes. 

He watches you carefully as he grasps his cock and guides it to your slippery entrance. Your eyes flutter shut as he pushes in, giving you about an inch each time he thrusts. His jaw goes slack once he’s about halfway in. You’re so fucking warm and wet and inviting. He keeps going, trying to keep his breathy whines at bay. He’s again reminded of just how long it’s been since he’s felt something other than the palm of his hand around himself. 

“Shit, baby,” he breathes as he bottoms out. He closes his eyes in concentration and lets his head hang next to yours. He already feels like he might blow his load at any second. You bring a hand up to cup his head and thread his curls through your fingers, holding him close. His breathing is heavy when he lifts himself back up to look into your eyes. 

His heart seems to skip a beat when he sees the adoration you’re looking at him with. It kills him every time. And no matter how many times you tell him that he deserves all your affection, he knows he’ll still find a lingering doubt in the back of his mind. There’s a reason the two of you have only been “together” for about four months even though you’ve been shamelessly flirting for about a year. 

It was just too good to be true. For such a sweet, gentle thing like you to want a rough old man like him. He was never the one to initiate anything, but he knows you’ve been aware that he had his sore eyes set on you since you met. How could he not? He’s never met anyone so kind and considerate. It was impossible to deny you of him any longer when it was one of the only things you’ve ever wanted for yourself. 

“You okay?” Your honeyed voice reaches his ears—or his good ear, rather—and he smiles at you. 

“‘Course, baby. Jus’ gotta give me a second, alright?” He can feel his cheeks getting a bit rosy at the confession. “It’s been a minute.” 

You nod, still no hesitation or any sign of regret. God, what did he do to deserve you? 

Once he collects himself, he pulls out just barely, and a groan tumbles from his mouth to mingle with your soft moan. He’s already starting to sweat from the effort of not coming too soon as he starts to push into you at a slow but rhythmic pace. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and tuck your head into his chest as you whimper with his thrusts. 

“You feel so good,” you whine. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, so d’ you. “Like goddamn heaven.” And you do; overwhelmingly so.

He cradles your head and lowers the two of you even more to deepen his thrusts. He knows he’s found your spot when your breath catches and you start to tighten around him every time he pumps his hips. Unfortunately, this makes it a lot harder for him to keep his composure. 

“H-honey, I have to pull out,” he grits out. He’s so embarrassed, it hasn’t even been five minutes. He won’t last long enough for you to come before him.

But you just nod into him, even though you must be devastated by the loss of your orgasm. “It’s okay, Joel,” you breathily assure him. 

He pulls out and squeezes the base of his cock, out of breath. He doesn’t meet your gaze as he starts to apologize.

“I’m sorry, baby, I—” 

“Joel,” You stop him by carefully grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at you. “It’s okay.” You nod, waiting for him to do the same before you continue. “Take as much time as you need. I love you no matter what. This does not determine—” 

You both realize what you said at the same time. Joel’s eyes widen and his chest feels like it caved into itself. Your lips stay still, parted in the middle of your sentence. Joel doesn’t realize tears have gathered in his eyes until his vision starts to blur and a smile spreads across his face. 

You love him. You said it. And he believes you. 

“I love you too, baby,” he whispers and lets his forehead rest against yours. “So damn much.” Fuck his age and whoever might see a problem with you being together. He wants this, and you want this, and that’s all that matters. 

Then you’re both laughing shakily, pressing kisses to each other’s lips. He only stops to start trailing them down your body instead, watching you writhe as his mustache tickles your bare skin. 

“Joel, p-please,” you beg quietly. Joel just huffs a small laugh through his nose as he lays himself between your legs, ignoring his protesting knees as he admires the entirety of you laying out just for him. You look fucking beautiful covered in a thin sheen of sweat atop his sheets, needy and panting all for him. 

He doesn’t waste too much time before putting his mouth on your sweet pussy, his tongue dragging up your slit to flick at your clit. Joel moans at your taste, sending vibrations racing toward your swollen bud. Your hips buck as your hands fly to grasp at his hair, tugging lightly and making his eyes roll back. 

He feasts on you like his life depends on it, worshiping you with all he has. He takes turns in running his tongue up you, fucking you with it the best he can, and suckling on your clit. He looks like a damn mess as he does so, his eyes not leaving your cunt unless he’s watching your face contort with pleasure. When you make eye contact with him, he knows he must look fucked out and desperate just based on the way you groan and lay your head back. 

It doesn’t take much for you to get to the edge, and it takes even less for him to push you over. You let out sharp, whiny sounds as he sucks on your clit and slips a couple of fingers inside of you to grip on to. Your entire body goes tense, and Joel has to resist the urge to smirk against you as you shake with the force of your orgasm. 

By the time you’re coming down, he’s back over you and slipping his tongue inside your mouth to share your taste. You moan into the kiss and pull him closer as he once again glides his tip into your cunt. Just as he had hoped, the distraction calmed him down enough to hopefully give him some more time. 

You both melt into each other as he bottoms out, the tip of his swollen cock hitting your cervix and making your thighs squeeze his torso. He starts at a faster pace than last time, too deep in his lust-filled haze to even try to slow down now. 

You pull away from his mouth to start leaving love bites on his neck, making his cock twitch inside of you with each pinch. He can feel you smile against his skin, and knows that you’ve found his secret. He does like a little pain with his pleasure. You keep going, sucking and biting marks before licking soothingly over them and moving to the next spot. You taste him like you’re addicted, like you could never possibly get enough.

It still doesn’t take him as long as he would like to before he starts to feel his balls drawing up and his thighs start to shake. His head goes foggy as he tries to hold on for you, but it’s too fucking much. He can’t hold it off when you feel so good around him. It’s like torture to stave off his orgasm when he’s thrusting into your soft heat. 

“Where d’ you want me, honey?” Joel asks you, his voice strained. 

“Inside,” you whisper against his neck without a second thought.

And it throws him over. He groans your name as his body stutters and his balls empty, coating your walls with his milky spend. It seems to go on forever. Each time he thinks he’s almost done, there’s another spurt and another wave of pleasure that tugs him deeper into euphoria. 

When it does end, he lets himself half-collapse on top of you. You embrace him with welcoming arms and the two of you catch your breath together in the now dark bedroom. He only pulls out once sleep threatens to take the both of you. A shower, snack, and a glass of water later, you both snuggle up together and fall asleep with content smiles and full hearts. 

*****

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[zweig-eater]

art turning his brain off every time you guys are together…

something about you, everything about you.. he feels safe, cared for, wanted, needed even. it all just makes his head dizzy and clouded with nothing but his love for you.

you noticed it gradually as he became more and more relaxed with you. it started simple, he would let you order his food for him, and pull him wherever you wanted during dates. he was your puppy, just happy to be there and tingling in your presence.

the longer you were together, the more time you spent together, he leaned further and further into you. as soon as he walked into your dorm room, his head fell and his shoulders relaxed as he dropped his bag to the floor, racket clanking as it landed, and padded over to you. every millisecond spent without your skin connected felt like a millennia for art. your room smelled of coconut and vanilla, your perfume, making his brain start to melt already.

you laid on your bed, sat up with your back against the head board. as soon as he stepped in, you closed your laptop and gave him your full attention. something he always noticed. at the beginning, this undivided attention was enough to well tears in his eyes as he realized he might have finally found a home as warm as he’d always longed for. as his eyes met yours and he was in arms length, you reached out, and just that was enough for him to give in and collapse into you.

laying directly between your legs, he rested his head against your chest, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. your hands found his hair and lower back and instinctively started scratching and tracing heart shapes into him. your legs tangled naturally and you gave art a few moments of this bliss. both of your breathing matched paces, your heart beat thumped in his ear and he swore he could feel it through his whole body. as if your heart was beating for the both of you. he breathed in your skin, your scent, every inch of you lulled him into a state of tranquility.

he could feel himself slipping. not into sleep, no, he was wide awake. slipping into some other state. his head spun, brain melting to mush, all his worries, stress and the never ending expectations piled onto him disappeared into thin air. he couldn’t even remember how he got to your dorm, god, he was forgetting his own name. everything he knew was just out of grasp, leaving only you. he felt hypnotized. tranced into this state of consciousness that was just past the brink of reality, but close enough that he knew you were real. you both were. and he was yours. entirely. you owned him. he craved it, you. he wanted to be nothing but an extension of you.

“hi puppy”, you whispered gently into his ear. the nickname sending him over the edge as everything inside of him unravelled. his tight wound strings, gently lacing and connecting with yours.

“nng i love you” he whined, it sounded pitiful, and he didnt care for a second. it was all he had the mental capacity to utter, he was drowning in his love for you, and it practically spilled out of his lips, as his hands pawed and gripped you even harder.

“i love you baby, endlessly” you told him. as you gently tugged his hair and left a kiss on his forehead.

and he believed you. you loved him. him. not art donaldson the tennis player. not the versions of him everyone else seemed to create. not the version of him he felt like he had to be. not the versions of him he couldn’t even recognize in the mirror anymore, but everyone else claimed to know so well. just him, and all of him, with no caveats or expectations. he didnt have to fight, or play, every single day for your love, for your praise. he was just him, and you loved him. and he was devoted to you.

the hearts you continued to trace on his lower back, a constant reminder, he was yours, entirely, your lap dog, and he fucking loved it.

[plistommy]

Steve takes Eddie’s virginity by riding the older boy after a long session of smoking and drinking inside the metalheads cramped van.

He’d praise Eddie on how good he’s making him feel, how big his dick is and how he’s so pretty under him that it makes Eddie moan loudly, strong hands roaming and squeezing the fat of Steve’s ass as he begs to fuck Steve harder.

”I need to fuck you, Steve- please, sweetheart-”

Steve would kiss him, sloppy and wet as he whines into Eddie’s mouth when the dick inside him hits just right.

When he pulls back, breathless, he picks up the pace and finally lets Eddie buck up to meet his thrusts.

Eddie would just look up at Steve, brown eyes wide and realize he’s so in love with the gorgeous boy on top of him and he never wants to let go. Never.