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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 2 months ago

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Taking me higher

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 1

Prompts: mile high club & service dom

Rated: E

Words: 1,232

Tags: Dom!Steve; Sub!Eddie; Fear of flying; Airplane sex; Semi-public sex

Before today, if anyone had asked Eddie what hell looked like, the answer would've come easy. Hell was a blood red sky, parched earth covered in vines, and monstrous creatures with flower-shaped maws prowling the decaying landscape. Obvious, right?

Wrong.

Hell is a two-hundred-ton sardine can, shooting through the sky at five-hundred miles an hour, the ocean stretching forty-thousand feet below. No, scratch that, thirty-nine-thousand-nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine feet, because the goddamn thing just hit another air hole.

“Eddie?”

Next to him, Steve stirs. He looks infuriatingly at ease with his sleep mask pushed up into his hair and his neck pillow and the little fleece blanket with the airline’s logo on it. When he takes in the way Eddie’s fingers are white-knuckling their shared armrest, his brow furrows in concern.

“Hey, everything okay?”

“Fine,” Eddie grits out. “Peachy, don't you worry about- shit, what was that?”

“Turbulences,” Steve shrugs. Like it's fine. Like it's not a big deal. Like they aren't locked in a steel and glass deathtrap moving faster and higher than anything has a right to. “It’s okay, they haven't even switched on the seatbelt signs.”

“Okay, great,” Eddie babbles. “Perfect, I just- … shit, I didn't think it'd rattle so fucking much.��

“It gets a bit bumpy sometimes,” Steve's hand finds his, prying Eddie’s fingers from the armrest, ghosting soothing touches over his knuckles. “Just relax. Think of them as potholes.”

“Potholes, right,” Eddie mumbles. “Brilliant comparison, Stevie, so helpful. You know what, if the potholes weren't ten fucking miles deep, that might actually-”

“Baby.”

Eddie barrels to a stop. For a second, he's convinced he must've heard wrong, because why would Steve call him that now? Steve only ever calls him that when they're playing, and there's no way-

“You with me, baby?”

Steve’s voice has dropped to a low rumble, and fuck, all the training they've done must've finally stuck, because the answer is out before he even knows it.

“Yes, sir.”

Steve smiles, slow and pleased. His hand shifts to Eddie’s upper thigh. “There's my good boy.”

And yeah, the training clearly stuck way better than Eddie is comfortable admitting, because the words go straight to his dick. Steve’s hand moves, brushing the shape of him through the fabric of his pants. Eddie gasps and squirms, and that smile goes smug.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Eddie hisses. He cranes his neck, casting frantic glances at the other passengers, but most of them are asleep in their seats. At the far end of the aisle, two stewardesses are talking and giggling at each other in hushed voices.

“Shhhh,” Steve says. He cups Eddie’s cock in his palm, a firm and solid pressure. “They haven't noticed. You don't want that to change, do you?”

“I- … no,” Eddie stammers. Steve’s grip tightens. “I mean … no, sir.”

“That's what I thought,” Steve smiles, giving the bulge in his pants a good-natured pat. Eddie whines and rolls his hips in his seat, greedy for more friction, more pressure. Steve removes his hand.

“Oh, come on,” Eddie groans. The lady in front of him grunts and stirs in her sleep. Eddie bites down on his own tongue.

“Now, here's what we're gonna do,” Steve says, lips tickling the shell of his ear, voice trickling down his spine like honey. “You're gonna go into the bathroom and get yourself ready for me. We'll need to be quick about it, so I'll give you … let's say three minutes before I join you.”

“Wha-” Eddie wheezes. “You wanna-… Is there even room?”

Steve chuckles. “Oh, we'll manage. I’ll just need to fuck you against the wall, nice and tight, huh?”

Eddie gawks at him. Steve raises an eyebrow and checks his watch. “I’d hurry, if I were you. Your three minutes start now.”

The bathroom is ridiculously tiny. For some reason, the movements of the plane are even more noticeable here, but Eddie doesn’t have time to dwell on that. Stumbling in on jelly-like legs, he pats his pockets until he finds what he’s been hoping for - a lonely, small package of lube. Ripping it open with his teeth, he yanks his pants down all the way to his ankles. When a few, awkward twists and turns reveal that this won’t do, he chucks off his right shoe and steps out of the pant leg entirely, propping one sock-clad foot up on the toilet bowl.

He has hardly started preparing himself when the door opens behind him. For a panicked second, he’s afraid it’s a random passenger out for a midnight piss, now faced with the sight of him, two fingers knuckle-deep up his own ass. But it’s Steve.

“Oh baby, look at you,” he whispers. Eddie hears the door lock, and then one large, strong hand caresses his hip. “So desperate for me? Tell me how bad you need it.”

Steve’s hand is casual and possessive as he cups his ass, the touch of a man taking what’s his. It makes Eddie feel owned in the best possible way. A prized possession, looked after and taken care of.

“Need it so bad,” he whines, bucking back into the touch, knowing exactly what it is that Steve wants to hear. “So desperate for your cock sir, please-”

He can’t turn, not crammed together in the tiny space as they are, but he hears how Steve’s belt and zipper come undone. That large, hard cock slaps free, hitting his ass with an obscene sound.

“My poor, greedy boy,” Steve coos. “Asking for it so nicely. Of course you can have my cock, baby.”

And then, without further preamble, he pushes in, all the way to the base. He sets a quick, relentless rhythm, not bothering to ease them into it slowly, and Eddie has to grip the toilet bowl with both hands or topple. It feels like his head being filled with fuzzy cotton. It feels the ground dropping out from under him, leaving him floating on clouds, but this time, it has nothing to do with the stupid plane.

It doesn’t take long. After a few hard thrusts, Steve moans and comes, hands digging into Eddie’s hips hard enough to bruise as he spills deep inside of him. Eddie is only seconds behind him, spilling his own release all over the toilet, and Steve shoves his fingers inside his mouth to muffle his scream.

“You good, baby?”

Eddie blinks back into reality. The ground and the walls are still rattling, but it doesn’t bother him as much, now that all of his bones have been replaced with warm jelly. Steve has pulled him out of his bent-over position and up against his chest, tucked his neck into the crook of his shoulder, and is peppering kisses over the side of his face and into his hairline.

“Perfect,” Eddie slurs. “Thank you, sir. Could stay like this forever.”

Steve laughs softly. “As much as I’d like to, I think we need to get back to our seats.”

“Aw no,” Eddie pouts. “I thought everyone was asleep. Can’t we just-”

“You’re insatiable, huh?” Steve smacks a firm kiss to his cheek as he disentangles their shaky limbs, pressing a stack of paper towels into his hand as he goes. “C’mon now, be a good boy and clean yourself up. If you make it back in three minutes, I’ll consider doing this again. There’s always a return flight, y’know?” ✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️

More smutty September

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie smutty september #hype's smutty september

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janeyseymour · 5 months ago

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Far From Home

for @jeridandridge

Summary: you're far away from home when you meet another Phillie's fan.

WC: ~3k

It’s just Melissa’s luck that her flight would get cancelled because of a hurricane sweeping over the Atlantic at this very moment. After a near brawl with one of the attendants because she insisted that it’s safe to fly (and it very much is not safe to fly), the redhead finds herself lugging her carry-on over to the restaurant bar with a huff.

“Whiskey, neat,” she sighs as she hands her card over to the bartender. “Please.”

“Flight get delayed?”

“Canceled,” she huffs. “They said they’d put me on the next flight out to Philly.”

“You’re a long way from home,” the bartender states softly. “Why you come all the way out here?”

“To Italy?” Melissa chuckles softly. “Because it’s Italy… and I was visiting my nonna.”

“So then why are you in such a rush to get back?”

“My baseball team is playing, and I have real nice tickets for tomorrow’s game,” the redhead explains. “Damn… they’re playing right now too. Any chance you get American sports to play over here?”

The bartender shakes his head. “But if you got an iPhone and can pull it up on there, I can cast it to the television so you can at least watch on the big screen while you figure everything else out.”

Melissa looks impressed and pulls out her phone. After a bit of work, the Phillies game is up on the screen, and the redhead is cheering along for her team with a beer now in hand.

Your flight from Italy back to the States was canceled. Of course it was. After a more than disastrous trip to Italy with your now ex-girlfriend, all you want to do is be in your apartment and curled up in your bed with a tub of ice cream and a glass of wine in hand. But now… you’re sitting in a restaurant bar while you wait for confirmation that the airline has put you on another flight home and seeing if they can put you up in a hotel for however long it will take to get back to Philly.

You have half a mind to go try to sleep off your exhaustion and anxiety, but something catches your eye. There’s a Phillies game on the big screen… in Italy? So, instead of finding a deserted corner, you sit down at the restaurant bar and pull out your phone. The bartender comes your way and pours you a drink when the Phillies are able to pull ahead of the Mets- the rival team.

“Hell yeah!” you raise your glass in the air with a smile. Schwarber was able to deliver again.

“You a Phillies fan?” the bartender chuckles.

“I bleed Philly,” you smile as your eyes stay trained on the screen. “Why do you even have this game playing? I didn’t think the Italians cared about baseball the way that Philadelphians do.”

“You aren’t the only Philadelphian in here,” he laughs as he points down towards the redhead at the other end of the bar, eyes also glued to the screen.

You cock your head to the side. “Wow.” She’s… really, really pretty. But you’re able to cover up that little gasp with the afterthought of, “Two Philadelphians in one little bar across the ocean.”

“She’s casting it from her phone right now,” the man tells you. Then he slides his way back down the bar to check on that beauty.

There’s something inside of you that wants to go over and talk to her- let her know that you think she’s beautiful. But… then you remember what you’re doing here. You just got dumped, and you don’t want to be that asshole who uses someone as a rebound. Especially not someone as stunning as her. So, you keep to your end of the bar while she keeps to hers. You don’t know it, but while you’re entranced by the screen and watching as Bryce Harper hits a ball that goes flying and Johan Rojas goes flying around the bases, she looks down to you, licking her lips subconsciously.

Your cheering at the screen as Rojas comes home and Harper slides into second pulls the redhead’s eyes from you and back onto the screen. Damn, she missed how that all went about.

She glances back in your direction, and your smile warms her heart. Deciding to take a leap of faith, she picks up her drink, gathers her bags, and makes her way down the bar.

“I missed what was happening,” you hear a voice. “Tell me what happened?”

“Rojas was on second, Schwarber and Realmuto struck out, and Harper hit a ball that found its way through. Rojas scored, Harper’s on second,” you recite the play, eyes still trained on the screen as Bohm tries to further the inning.

“Bohm’s gonna strike out,” the voice tells you.

“How do you know?”

“Just a hunch,” the woman sighs. The truth is that she got the notification on her phone that he struck out and the inning was over.

She’s right, and as a commercial comes on, you finally turn. You don’t expect it to actually be that beautiful woman from the other end of the bar to be sitting next to you now, eyes watching you with wonder.

“Wow,” you whisper softly.

“What?” she asks you.

“I saw you from across the bar and thought you were pretty, but,” you cough awkwardly. “You’re more gorgeous than I thought.”

The woman smirks, and her eyes sparkle. She sticks out her hand for you to shake while saying, “Melissa.”

“Y/N,” you tell her as you shake her hand. “The bartender told me you’re the one casting the game right now?”

“I am,” she tells you. “Born and raised a Philly fan from South. You?”

You break out into a smile. “Born and raised in the ‘burbs of Philly, moved to Center City Philly a few years ago for work… I’ve been cheering for Philly teams since I could talk.”

“Yeah?” Melissa chuckles.

After a few taps on your phone, there’s video of you at the age of two dressed in an Eagles cheerleader outfit and singing the fight song playing.

The redhead next to you grins as she watches. When it’s finished, she hands you back your phone. “That’s fuckin’ precious.”

You blush. “It’s… definitely something.”

She goes to say more, but the Phillies broadcast comes back on, and you’re both taken to the screen. The two of you cheer together and boo the other team together as the game continues.

In between innings, you chat and get to know Melissa more. You come to find that she’s a second and third grade teacher at a public school in center city- one that you pass by on your walk to work almost everyday. You find that she knows a lot of people. You also find that she’s somewhat of a legend when it comes to the casinos down in Atlantic City- as it turns out, she’s the ‘Red Hot’ that you hear people talking about as you would mill around the casino floor. But you also learn that her eyes sparkle when she talks about the things she’s passionate about. You discover that her laugh is a source of happiness for you. You’ve also learned that her smile is something that could light up Center City Philadelphia all on its own. She has you absolutely enchanted with her being.

It isn’t until the bottom of the ninth inning when you recognize the fact that she’s holding your hand in anticipation, and she has been holding your hand since… since the first full inning that you watched together.

When it’s announced that the Phillies won, she’s jumping up out of her seat and hugging you tightly. You of course embrace her back with the same ferocity.

But now that the game is over, nothing is keeping her from sitting next to you. And you feel… disheartened by that? Upset that she’s probably going to leave and you’ll never see her again? You don’t know.

It doesn’t matter though, because she’s sitting back down on her barstool, taking your hand again, and sipping her beer. “So…”

The two of you continue to talk for hours. It isn’t until both of your phones ping that you look away from each other.

“Uh,” you sigh. “They put me up in a hotel room, so I guess I should head out.”

“Me too,” the redhead breathes quietly.

“I had a really nice time watching the game with you,” you tell her softly. “Like… it made me feel like I wasn’t stranded in the middle of another country without a way to get home for who knows how long.”

“Where did they put you up?”

You rattle off the name of the hotel, and her eyes light up. “That’s where I am too. Should we split a cab to get there?”

When you do get there, she checks herself in and then helps you check in. It’s a sweet gesture, and your rooms are next to each other as luck would have it.

“Would you want to come in?” she asks you as she unlocks her own door.

You smile. “Just give me a few to settle in, but then I’ll be over.”

Melissa and you spend the rest of the day together, walking around the little city that you find yourself in, picking up beer and wine, and then spending the rest of the time in her hotel room drinking and talking about everything. It’s not anything like what you expected being stuck in another country alone would be like. You’re not alone now though, Melissa is keeping you company. A small part of your mind wonders what your ex-girlfriend is doing… because she’s stuck in Italy now too- probably finding the first woman who was gay and throwing herself at her.

You’re in a tipsy haze as the two of you lounge on her bed watching whatever show in English you can find. And then… her lips are on your own. Oh god. She’s kissing you.

You pull away gently and sigh. “Melissa, I-”

“I read the situation wrong,” she says immediately and pulls away. “I’m sorry. I- I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t read the situation wrong,” you promise her. “I just… fuck. I just broke up with my girlfriend, and as much as I am attracted to you, I don’t want to use you as a rebound.”

“Oh,” Melissa’s mouth forms into a small ‘O’. “Oh.”

“I don’t want to be the jackass who uses someone as beautiful and as sweet as yourself to rebound,” you say again. “I just… I’m not like that.”

She sits up just slightly. “I respect that. Thank you for… for not doing that.”

You just nod. “I suppose now that I made it awkward, I should see myself-”

“Stay,” the redhead tells you softly. “Just because we aren’t going to hook up doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy your company- as a friend.”

You settle back down onto the bed.

That was two days ago. In the two days since that kiss, you’ve still spent all of your unexpected time in Italy with Melissa. She’s… if you weren’t in the situation you’re in, you would be all over her. Maybe… maybe once you get back to the states and a respectable amount of time has passed. But for now, the two of you are getting ready to get on the flight back to Philly.

You’re not sure what strings she pulled, but you’re seated next to each other for the nearly nine hour flight. The two of you are already seated when your ex-girlfriend passes by, arm linked with a very pretty girl. She sneers at you.

“That her?” Melissa asks.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Already moved onto the next.”

“You could do better,” the green eyed woman smirks. “And you’re a better person for not doing what she’s doing to me.”

In your own dozing state, you feel Melissa’s head drop down to your shoulder, and it brings you a small sense of happiness. You let her continue to rest that way until you know her neck is going to be paying for it if she sleeps that way any longer.

“Mel,” you shake her gently. “Mel, you gotta wake up, or your neck is going to be killing you when we land.”

She blearily opens her eyes and looks at you, confused. Right… she’s wearing earplugs and headphones and can’t hear you. You type out on your phone what you’re trying to convey, and she nods. ‘Thank you,’ she mouths. It’s only a few minutes later that you feel her head again, although this time she’s laying across the middle seat and has her head in your lap. You just smile to yourself as you close your eyes again, a hand draping itself gently over her hip.

The next time the two of you wake up, the flight attendant is looking at Melissa very unhappily. The seatbelt light had gone on while you were both asleep, and you were beginning the descent. With a frustrated huff, the redhead sits up and buckles her seatbelt.

Once the plane lands, all hell breaks loose as it always does what with everybody in a rush to get off the plane and home. And in the chaos, you lose sight of Melissa. You go to text her or call her before you realize that you never actually got her number. The time that the two of you spent together was constant, and there was no need to be able to contact each other over the phone when she was always right next to you. Exhausted and frustrated, you let out a groan.

Deciding that you should probably just get your belongings and try to hail a cab to head home, you make your way to the luggage carousel. You wait for what feels like forever- hoping that Melissa will make her way over to you. Only once you’re positive that there is no more luggage on that particular belt do you give up and go home. You don’t know that she’s doing the same thing on the other side of the loop. There’s a pole blocking your sight.

You think about her on the Uber ride home, you think about her while you eat dinner, you think about her while you’re preparing for bed and when you’re crawling into bed. You dream of her. You can’t believe you were stupid enough to not get her number after spending three entire days with her.

Similarly, in a townhouse not too far from where you reside, Melissa is kicking herself. She knows that you’ve just broken up with your girlfriend- she knows that you don’t want to use her as a rebound. And somehow, she’s still mad that she didn’t get your number. She… she wouldn’t mind being your rebound, and she doesn’t have a doubt that it would turn into something more than just a rebound… if she had your number to contact you. She supposes what happens in Italy stays in Italy.

On Monday morning, you still can’t get that redheaded beauty out of your head- you can’t even why you try to busy yourself with literally anything else. So… you take fate into your hands. You know she works at the school down the street from your office, so you take it upon yourself to call in late to work, explaining that you have a few personal things to take care of as you pull into the Abbott Elementary school parking lot.

You see her pull in, and after a quick glance at your appearance in the rearview mirror, you deem yourself put together enough to face again. You slide out of your car and call her name.

She looks… shocked. Her jaw drops open as she watches you step out of your car.

“Y/N?” she calls out.

You jog up to her car. “Listen, I know I’m probably coming off as a stalker right now, but

I just… I couldn’t shake you from my thoughts as we lost each other in the airport. I wanted to call or text, but I didn’t have your number. And then I remembered you work here, and I literally work right down the road, and my boss is probably going to kill me for being late on my first day back in two weeks, but-”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you either,” she cuts you off as she reaches for your hand.

You pull her into your arms gently before pressing your lips to hers. “Look, I’m… I don’t know what I’m doing here, but I knew I couldn’t let you go that easily, and I don’t want to be a jackass and use you as a rebound, but-”

“I’m here,” Melissa whispers to you as she pulls you back in for another kiss. “I’m here when you’re ready for whatever you think this might turn into. For now though, we can be friends… we can hang out like we did in Italy.”

“Yeah?”

The teacher smiles at you. “Of course. I actually have two tickets for tomorrow’s game if you wanted to come with me?”

“I thought you had tickets for the game while we were Italy?”

She shrugs. “I told you, I know a guy… I was able to contact him while we were there, and he just exchanged my tickets.”

You grin. “I would be delighted.”

Her smile matches yours. “Wonderful. If I could just get your number so we could arrange to meet tomorrow? And then I really do have to get into my classroom… prepping a science lesson.”

“Yeah, of course,” you fumble for your phone in your bag and hand it over. She texts herself with a smile.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow?” you ask hopefully.

She kisses your cheek. “For sure.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

#abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfiction

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