#that’s not my neighbour fanfic

[dozing-marshmallow]

Overprotective Francis meeting daughter reader's boyfriend lmao

LOL OMG I love That’s Not My Neighbour so much and I’m so so happy to have been given this request! Thank you so much ^0^, I hope you enjoyyy!

OVERPROTECTIVE! FRANCIS X DAUGHTER! READER ONE SHOT

It was 3:30 and Francis was outside your school. Despite your insistence, Francis never failed to show up at the exact same time every five days of the week to collect you from school. 

On this cloudy Thursday, he saw you walking out with your class, too uncomfortably close to a young boy. That's strange. He took a few steps closer...in time to see the boy kissing your cheek.

The world had seemed to slow down, it was a horror movie. Each fibre of his body tensed up, with his bottom lip shaking in despair. The boy and you quickly departed into different ways in the crowd as the gates opened. At the sparse edges, you had distinguishly approached him, adjusting the straps of your backpack.

"Mmm... hi dad.”

Hi dad? You were just going to greet him like you hadn't just done such a serious thing? The world came back to its normal speed,"Who was that boy?" Francis asked, his voice sounding less tired than usual,“(Y/N), who was that boy?”

"Oh, that boy I was walking with? He's just a friend.” you claimed, pointing the boy out in the crowd with your attention, standing with other male students.

A friend? He wasn't stupid,“You let a friend, a boy kiss you on the cheek?”

You sighed. He’s going to find out eventually, but the confession felt way too ordinary to your hopes of it being grand like a plot twist in a movie. Stupid slip up,“Okay, fine. He’s my boyfriend. Yes, boyfriend. I’m dating him.”

Your father’s eyes widened. There it was.

Boyfriend. Relationship. Dating. His little girl had gotten herself a boyfriend, someone who she might marry and live with.

He didn't know what hurt more- the revelation or that you had tried to hide it from him. Why? Don't you know what you’re doing is wrong?

“Boyfriend? You...You have a boyfriend?” he asked, his eyes still wide like saucers,“No, no, (Y/N), what did I say? You are much too young for boyfriends.”

“Yes yes, dad, I know, you've said, but romance isn’t going to stop because you forbid it.” your reply was offensively casual.

“Because you are simply not ready for it. Mmmm, being in a relationship will take up a lot of your time and focus when you should be prioritising school. Boyfriends are not a good thing to have now, darling.” you have no idea what love means.

“Dad, do we really need to have this conversation outside my school?” you asked, lowering your voice, hoping he would follow. It was embarrassing since it was your final year of middle school and it’s not hard to tell among his interactions and his presentation that this milkman was your dad,“I stick to all your other rules, can’t you just allow this one?”

“Mmm, no.” he groaned stubbornly, (making you groan internally), his hand clenching onto the cap of his hat out of frustration,”All my rules are there for your own good. Why, my dear? Why can’t you listen to your father?”

You anxiously fiddled with your button up,“Dad, have you considered that maybe it isn’t nineteen twenty-five anymore? Men are a lot more sweet and kind and-“

“Mmm it doesn’t matter what year it is, boys are nothing but bad news, (Y/N). Especially at your age." your father began, here we go again,"They are pathetically immature delinquents whose only interest is to cause trouble and hurt the girls around them. By leading them on, making them think they love them, only to badly hurt them in the end...” his voice remained a permanent murmur, grabbing onto your hand,“I’m not letting that happen to you, (Y/N). I don’t want to hear or see any more of that relationship, okay? I forbid it, it’s over.”

You whined, tugging him back,"Daaaad, you can’t just say all boys are cruel! Sure, some of them are idiots, but that doesn’t mean all of them are! You didn’t even meet him yet! Please meet him, he’ll change your mind!”

“I don't need to meet him to know that he doesn't care about you. It's over.” he repeated, now pulling you along as easily as a full basket of milk bottles.

“You can’t explain love! Besides, you can't just tell me to ditch things like these forever! How could I learn if you constantly shut down any social experience I get?” this is a very embarrassing thing to overhear.

Your father sighed,“I know, darling. I just don’t want you to get hurt. You know how alert I’ve always been, without this crisis of these impersonators happening.”

“Yeah, those bags say it all.” you remarked, your voice hopping back to begging,“Please, dad? We can invite him over to our home for you to meet him, just for this afternoon!"

The apartment. Letting this boy know where you live? Into your personal space, snooping around the privacy of home? That was a terrible idea. But, he'd have a lot more control there than in a public setting where you could get hurt a lot more easily, whether by this beast or anything else more beastly. And he was quite curious to see what was so immense to be fussing about,“...Fine. But I’m not letting you two out of my sight together.”

Your heart leaped.

You can't believe he actually agreed!,“Thanks dad!”

The meeting was way more awkward than you thought it would be. Francis wouldn't let Michael anywhere near the kitchen or any of the bedrooms. In fact, he had locked all the doors before he allowed Michael to come in, which was something he never did, since he preferred all the doors in the apartment to be open. Currently, you three were all seated in the living room, normally made cosy by the beige cushions and peach wallpaper and carpet, now tension in its place. Michael had been sitting in the armchair, up straight the entire time with your father’s gaze never leaving him. You were seated on the sofa by your father. This felt a lot more like an interrogation than a fun simple meeting.

"So, you know my daughter from school?" Francis asked the brunette boy sitting across him, swirling his tea. His hat was off, hanging by a hallway hook, revealing his dark brown lawn of hair.

Francis had you tell him about all kinds of people that were at your school, and picking you up every day helped verify that. Francis' resilient presence would always get estranging looks from all the other kids and their mothers, but he didn’t care.

Your safety was most important.

This stray dog of a boy you had brought in, so far, had a neat appearance and sensible manners, listening and accepting.

"Yes." the candidate nodded.

"Which school?"

That threw him off guard, as noted by the crack in his voice, but he quickly assumed it to be a trick question and answered,"Uh, Richardson High?”

Francis nodded. Good,"Mmm how are you in school?"

"I'm pretty good in school, I mean, I don't really pay attention a lot-" the milkman's gaze tightened just enough for Michael to redirect his words,"But uh, I do study a lot at home so my grades are good."

Michael took the moment Francis used, to enjoy a sip of his tea, to relax and gently breathe,"Mmm... And your teachers? Do you like them?” your dad asked, clumsily setting his cup down.

Michael confirms,"Yeah yeah, they're good teachers and I listen when they talk."

"How late do your parents let you stay out?"

He's so beautiful. Even when nervous, he's still so beautiful,"Until evening, unless it's uh winter, then it really depends who I'm with or where I am."

Francis squinted. He hate being lied to,"And who do you spend time with?" it went on for a while; your father making questions, your boyfriend answering, and your father moving onto the next, a wave of uncertainty of his impression lingering with his tired lack of smile. Until conveniently, Michael had asked to use the bathroom and left the living room.

Francis wasn't concerned that he would try any funny business. 

You asked him in a curiously excited manner, hands on your lap,“So dad, what do you think?”

Swirling some sugar in his tea, Francis coldly answered,“Nothing. I don’t believe anything that boy says. I don't care how honest he was, deep down, they are all the same danger.”

Your eager eye quickly died and irritation swam. What was his deal? Why was he always so quick to disapprove? At this rate, not even the top doctor would be good enough,“Dad, I know you’re worried about me, but I really do love him. He’s promised that as long as we are together, he’ll look after me and he will never make me cry-“

“Spare me, darling.” Francis cut off,“You’re not the first nor the last daughter that a boy makes empty promises to. I’m not going to take the risk and trust you with him when you can be safe all the time anyway. Boys like that are never good.” he stood up, with a yawn,“Mmmmm I don’t even trust you to cut all contact with him. So I’ll remind you that as your father, I have the right to pull you out of school whenever I like. If I hear that you are engaging with this boy in any way, that’s exactly what will happen.”

Your eyes widened. For doppelgängers, you understand. Pulling his kid out of school over one guy? Jeez, is your father dramatic or what?

He’s been like this for as long as you can remember. Never letting you get hurt, never letting you make choices with your life. Yet, that one part of you still survived to persuade you that maybe, he’s changed. Unfortunately, it seems this insane parental paranoia of his, cannot possibly not exist.

He recognised the shock on your face,“Mmm I know what I’m doing... How long have you known him for?”

The question had desiccated your romance like it was one big joke,“Uh... We started the same time of fifth grade together, so...four years?”

“Four years, mmm. And you think that’s enough for him to know how to keep you safe?” he asked rheotically, beginning to walk out, presumably to kick Michael out once he was finished in the bathroom,"Consider it over.”

You cried, leaping from your spot to grab your father's arm. You loved your boyfriend and felt it was all unfair,“Dad, please! Give him a chance! Don't do this!"

Francis paused, the bags under his eyes darkening,“This is the hard thing about being a parent. I’m not bending my decisions for your oblivion, (Y/N). You think you know what you’re doing, and it breaks my heart that you don’t understand. You can complain, but I won’t change my mind.”

You huffed, letting go to fold your arms,“I bet mom wouldn’t mind if I asked to live with her! She'd let me do what I want!”

His eyebrows crinkled. The woman who lived downstairs? Really? That wouldn't change anything,“Mmm... This tantrum over one guy? I’m just protecting you. You don’t know how harsh the world can be, darling. I’ll have a conversation with you about your behaviour today, when company is gone."

But it appeared no regurgitation was necessary as there was no Michael, his bag or shoes to be found in the hallway.

Forget a conversation. You’ve had enough.

Bonus:

It was the next day at school and it was break time. You were praying so hard last night that Michael would still love you despite your dad’s indirect rejection. And by a miracle, he did; you and him were on a playground bench, as far away from the gates as possible.

"Yeah... We got into an argument, and now I think he’s actually taking me out of school.” you explained, rocking your head back,“He can homeschool me for all I care, I'm not breaking up with you."

"We'll just have to find other ways to get around it." he replied matter-of-factly, gently patting your shoulder,"Sorry he didn't approve or that I left you like that. I didn’t mean to cause you more stress than you already had.”

Stress. You hate how perfectly the meaning fit. Meeting your partner’s parents was supposed to be fun. A little bit nerve wrecking, but it was supposed to represent a next stage of respect, for both sides,"No no, it's not your fault, Michael. It's just the whole idea of boys my father hates. He wouldn't have said yes regardless."

"Well, that makes me feel slightly better. I guess I'll just be more careful now."

You brought your head back to look at him, guilt in your eyes,"Isn't that such hard work? We can't even walk home together, and it's not fair on you to have to put up with my dad's crazy rules."

Michael shrugs,"I don’t mind, it actually gives me something to be creative for. I don’t want your dad to think he can scare me away.”

You faintly beamed,“You’re a bad influence.”

[blkkizzat]

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟷........... THE STRONGEST ......filed under the that's not my jjk man series

visitor log: its midday and your clingy-ass boyfriend—gojo satoru—should be hard at work right getting rid of these doppels not knocking at your door—gotta be a fake... right?! classifications: bimbo!reader (canonverse of otaku!gojo's bunny!reader), yandere-esque Gojo, nipple play, recorded sex, lots of sex toys, dirty talk, panty theft, extreme overstim + slight omorashi. incidents: 4.4k .......shout outs to @yung-notorious for beta-ing some of this!

*knock-knock-knock-knock-knock*

Rapid, insistent knocks interrupt your laughter as you chat with friends, carefully brushing a fresh coat of polish onto your toes. You weren’t expecting anyone, but the familiar, overly enthusiastic rhythm—knocking out the tune of Rick Astley’s "Never Gonna Give You Up"—leaves no doubt who it is.

Satoru.

You sigh.

Although you haven’t seen Gojo much lately and are usually happy to see him, his timing this time irritates you for a couple reasons—first, of course he’d interrupt right in the middle of your much-needed girl time! You were desperate to hang with your friends again, especially after being stuck in lockdown for the last 2 weeks.

There was some juicy tea getting spilled on the call too! 

More importantly, you weren't in a hurry to get up from the sofa—especially with your freshly painted white toes you’d propped up on the coffee table to dry. The last thing you wanted was to ruin them by getting dust on them while answering the door when Gojo wasn’t even supposed to be here right now.

“BBL, y’all.”

Reluctantly ending the call, you switched over to your Ring camera app. 

Sure enough, the security feed loads to reveal Gojo, grinning up at the camera with his glasses perched on the brim of his nose and a large pink shopping bag in hand.

Huh? There’s no way he’s off-work already! 

Taking note of the time it reads 1:30 p.m. confirming that Jujutsu society’s strongest sorcerer is skipping out on work, again—pshh typical. 

“C’mon babe, let me in!”

Urgh, what was he even doing here?! 

Shouldn’t he be the one leading the charge to kill all the doppelgängers? The faster he exorcized them, the sooner you’d finally be able to go outside again.

This doppelgänger outbreak felt like covid quarantine all over and it sucked! 

Satoru needed to get his ass back to work so you wouldn’t waste the best years of your life cooped up inside!

“Go away, doppelgänger!”

You use the intercom feature to speak to Gojo, still not budging from the sofa.

Gojo pouts.

“But it's me, baby! Open the door Bunny bae, please I missed you princess—it’s been too long!”

Satoru’s annoyingly pretty baby blues look even bigger as he pleads into the camera, his lip quivering, making you roll your eyes.

It’s barely been 48 hrs since you’ve last seen him and he still blows up your texts all day! 

But the world’s strongest sorcerer was also the world’s clingiest—so you suppose his doppelgänger would be too. Although, you were pretty sure this was the real deal, that still didn’t mean you wouldn’t give him shit for skipping out on work.

“Huh, that’s funny because there's no way you could be my boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, the strongest—and the one who is supposed to be making sure I’m not stuck in the house for another 2 years. It’s been freaking 2 weeks already Toru, I’m going batshit in here!”

Pushing his glasses back in place Gojo hides his scoff, standing up straight. 

Shit.

He hopes you aren’t onto him. 

Sure, he could have contained this whole thing in a few days tops.

Despite the doppelgänger ability to mimic appearances and cursed energy patterns, Gojo’s Six Eyes could see right through it easily. His power allowed him to perceive the core of a soul with perfect clarity, instantly distinguishing the souls of a human and a curse.

But instead of resolving the problem quickly, Gojo made up all kinds of excuses to you (and especially to the higher-ups) about why it was taking longer than expected. 

The truth was, simple though—for once, just this once, he decided he had earned the right to be selfish.

Not having met you until after the covid quarantine, Gojo had never experienced that kind of isolation with you—and was immensely jealous that your last boyfriend had. Now that he had a taste of it, there was nothing he wanted more than to keep his lil bun-bun safely caged up, waiting for his return everyday (and he did try to make it back everyday).

Okay, so he is in fact being really selfish.

Luckily for everyone else though, most of these doppelgänger  curses are relatively harmless other than causing absolute chaos with their mere existence alone—unfortunately they could also be seen by people even lacking cursed energy.

Gojo took care of the stronger ones, the ones with more nefarious intentions, while letting the little ones continue to run loose—all so he could have you to himself. 

Unbeknownst to you, Gojo is intentionally sentencing you to what seems like a never ending cycle of boredom so that when he finally gets home you cling to him like a grain of sweet sticky rice. So eager for any external stimuli or interaction you’d be up for all manner of his perversions you’d normally shoot him down for.

That didn’t mean you weren’t still a brat though, making him work for it—something that Gojo also noted was his fault though for spoiling you rotten, not being able to deny you anything. So you pretend to be annoyed when he showed up, but Gojo knew the truth—those thick thighs of yours would soon have your slick running down. Your cute, slutty lil pussy dripping would start dripping the moment you’d hear his voice.

Yeah, yeah, he’d get rid of those things eventually—but Gojo was going to enjoy this quarantine with you for a bit longer. 

“Even the strongest need a break baby! I need my sweet lil’ energizer Bunny to recharge my batteries, eh?”

You crinkle up your nose seeing him wiggle his eyebrows on camera. 

He's such a dorky cornball.

“And this break…it’s approved by Yaga, hm?” Gojo whines at your questioning, not wanting you to deny him any longer nor throw technicalities in his face he didn’t wanna have to answer.

“Come on, Bunny! I even brought you real nice gifts to show you how much I missed you!”

The hot pink shopping bag sways in front of the camera, Gojo dangling it as if it were supposed to be a tempting treat. 

But he’d have to do better than some generic pink shopping bag to impress you!

You’ve gone back to your toenails, starting to apply the top coat while you let him squirm out there for a while longer. You knew he could break the barrier in the blink of an eye but you also knew that he was a big enough baby to want you to let him in on your own. 

Well tough luck brah.

“That sure doesn’t look like a Chanel shopping bag, Toru!”

“Um, that’s cause it’s not—Bunny you told me you don’t even like me picking you out clothes anymore!”

You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes—of course you said that as whenever Gojo picked something out for you, it ended up being the most scandalous or over-the-top piece in the store. How he would even managed that at a classy brand like Chanel, you had no idea. (Though, little do you know, in reality, he always acted they were ready-to-wear while they were custom-made—just for you.)

“I got us some toys, baby bun! Don’t you wanna play with me?”

You don’t need to ask him ‘what kind of toys’ from the goofy ass expression that is on his face. 

“That’s not making me want to let you in at all, Doru!”  

“Hah? Wha—Doru!?”

“Yeah, short for Dopple-Toru.”

You try to keep a straight face but can’t help giggling as you sneak a peek at your phone, still putting on as if you're completely ignoring him. His expression on the camera is priceless though and you wish you could snap a screenshot of his mouth wide open, glasses nearly sliding off, looking utterly incredulous.

“Hey! Come on, Bunny bae, that's not funny! I know you know it’s me—and I also know your pretty pussy misses me!” 

Oh knew, it was your perv ass boyfriend and yeah you did miss him—but you missed your freedom more! And for that reason you are gonna make him think twice before trying to skip out on work again. Not to mention, for having the nerve to show up once you finally found something interesting to stave away your boredom other than him!

“Hmm, I don’t know—prove it then, Doru…”

While Gojo loves goading you into playing games and usually lets you win them too, after nearly 48 ‘grueling hours’ away from you, all he wants now is to simply relax in your company. Ya know, nothing too crazy, just the typical cuddles with him calmly resting his face on your titties while his cock nestles deep up against your cervix—just something casual.

Gojo calling your bluff, ups the ante.

“Heh, kay…”

You’re actually not paying attention this time, admiring your work on your toes and contemplating on the color you should paint your fingernails as Gojo goes silent for a moment. 

Yet once you hear a loud zip, the rustling of fabric, and a belt clank to the ground your eyes practically bulge out of your head as you grab your phone, bringing it comically close to your face while blinking multiple times just to be sure. 

Satoru quite literally has dick and balls out, dangling in the breeze, in front of the entire goddamn neighborhood!

And despite your initial horror and best efforts to remain upset, you pause, your inner slut causing a slight brain malfunction—as even from the small ring camera you can see his deliciously thick cock bobbing fully erect while his mushroomy tip shamelessly drips viscous globs of pre onto your welcome mat.

Thankfully your short-circuiting of common sense only lasts a few seconds before it starts functioning again.

“TORU HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING SUGAR-FUELED MIND!? YOU KNOW THE HOA IS ONE MORE INCIDENT AWAY FROM KICKING ME OUT, RIGHT!?”

Sighing, you groan in dismay as you’ve been on thin ice with your HOA for a while now because of Gojo. 

Not only have you received the most noise complaints in the neighborhood by far, but he also made ‘alterations’ to your home by installing unsanctioned rows of cypress trees. Claiming it was a safety precaution to block the view inside your home from your ‘sketchy neighbors.’ He also ever so obnoxiously takes up 2 parking spots on the street so no one could even “park too close to scratch his Benz” and even sometimes double parked in front of your neighbors house when all the street parking was taken.

You would most definitely be kicked out if anyone in the neighborhood saw all of Gojo’s fairly large bits and pieces freely on display.

And yeah, Gojo did know that. 

He also knew if you got kicked out and had to move you’d have no excuse then not to move-in with him.

Where else would you be able to stay on such short notice? He soon turn that temporary situation into a more permanent one too.

Finally leaping to your feet, you practically trip over yourself—all thoughts of preserving your polish forgotten—as you sprint to the front door.

You can’t get there fast enough, yet as soon as you do, you don't hesitate to lower the barrier and fling the door open.

“Hey sweetn—”

Cutting him off, you grab Gojo by his collar and yank him inside before slamming the door shut behind you.

But you don’t get a chance to scold him. The moment you turn to face him, your lips suddenly meet his, and his large frame envelops yours into a warm embrace.

Your first instinct is to push him away, but even when meeting your furious eyes he just grins knowingly—twirling his pointer finger in the air above him. You frown, confused, until it hits you—Gojo has set up another barrier over your own.

No one could have seen him, but he’d let you believe that so you’d let him in faster.

Urgh, Toru is far too crafty for his own damned good.

It's your turn to pout now, having clearly lost this round badly. 

But Gojo doesn’t let the expression linger—his mouth is hot and hungry on yours again in an instant. Your soft lips are easily parted by his thumb as he slows to tease his way past your lips to glide his silken tongue into your mouth causing him to sigh—you taste sweeter than any candy to him.

The kiss soon turns more passionate as the strokes of his tongue flick longingly over yours, devouring you as he skillfully melts away your anger—in addition to all the bones in your legs. Reduced to a puddle of goo you completely forget you were just about to cuss him out as your legs now press together from the throbbing between your thighs. Your need becoming more agonizing as you grow dizzy from the lack of air.

When Gojo finally lets you breathe again, he chuckles at your dazed expression. Your lids are lowered and you press your body deeper into his own, clutching onto his collar as you nestle your face into his neck, savoring his scent washing over you. 

“So despite all that sass, I take it you actually missed me then?”

You nod eagerly against his skin, in spite of yourself. Even though he isn’t supposed to be here right now, you can’t hold back any longer how happy you are to see him.

“And my pretty Bunny girl is going to let me play with her now?—All of her?”

You gasp as Gojo does not wait for an answer before slipping a hand into your shorts. Hissing at your heat, Gojo swipes his thumb over the outer folds of your cunt and his fingers quickly are becoming soaked before they even got the chance to get up inside you.

Placing a chaste kiss on your temple Gojo's agile fingers had merely confirmed what he already knew: You’re utterly drenched—his needy, cute lil’ pussy was quite literally begging for him and who was he to deny her?

ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩

“F—Fuck! P-pussy too good. Keep the phone up though, nice and straight Bunny! T-That’s it, you’re the best! SHIIIIT— n’you got the cutest sluttiest lil cunny! C-Can you get a close up of how well my cock is digging out your pretty lil’ bunny hole?”

“Mmmgh!”

Gojo’s filthy words and his even filthier fat cock are bringing you closer to your ecstasy filled ruin as they push you past your limits, engorged veins scraping your walls with every thrust. You're covered in sweat and your entire body buzzes—quite literally as there are vibrating clamps suctioned onto each of your nipples. 

Mmmm, it all was driving you wild!

Not imagining yourself in this position when you woke up this morning at all.

Especially as initially, when Gojo said he bought toys, you thought he had meant fuzzy handcuffs, silken ropes or maybe even some more of that warm edible candle wax that tastes like strawberries—but all this!? 

You could barely see out of your bleary, tear-filled eyes completely caking your cheeks in streaks of your mascara that while supposedly waterproof, definitely is not Gojo Satoru proof. 

In addition to the mind-numbing bliss radiating off your swollen perky buds, your body was covered in some sort of edible oily slick. The warmth was initially similar to that of candle wax—yet morphed into anything but. This time the heat was coming from the flames your own body generated as the effects of the candied warming oil made every part of you saturated in the fluid buzz with need. 

Of course, after soaking your body with it down the tips of your toes and paying extra attention to your nipples, Gojo had been thoughtful enough to pour the most of the remaining bottle over your throbbing lil’ clit. 

Except now there isn’t just a shallow throb between your legs as the fiery sensation of every individual nerve in your cunt was cries out for him to ruin you harder. 

Your legs are wrapped around him impossibly tight as your heels dig into the small of his back and yet somehow, he still manages to snake a hand between your slippery bodies to pet his favorite girly spot on you—your clit. Toying with the swollen nub in a painfully slow manner compared to the intensified thrashing of his hips against your own. 

The motions only serve to push the heart-shaped platinum and pink sapphire adorned butt plug deeper into your ass with every loud vulgar smack of your wet bodies joining—the strange feeling of it jostling against the very walls his cock was drilling has you drooling as Gojo further tests the limits of passion he can push over.   

“C’mon Bunny, you're going to miss the best part, ya better capture it really well how much squirt I can pump out of this cute cunny—or we’ll simply just have to do another take. Not that I’d mind spending all day in your pussy…”

You're not in your right mind to scold him for trying to skip out on more work and you certainly don't have the full capacities to hold his phone up any better—what with your hands were tied together over your head to the bed. Gojo utilizing the fuzzy cuffs afterall.

You can’t even really see if you are getting the right angle as you desperately hold onto the device, keeping it straight and upright lest it slip and drop right on your head. 

“Always such a good girl for me huh, princess?”

Tuh—like he was giving you a choice!

You're unable to clap back though as your tongue, so lax from all the pleasure, sinks back to the roof of your mouth. The slobber gathered pools past your lips, over your chin, down your neck to your tits and Gojo is eager to slurp the train up your body and back to your lips, kissing you. 

It goes without saying, but Gojo in ‘director’ mode is absolutely diabolical. 

The reason being needs the perfect footage of him playing in your guts to make sure he had good enough material to fap to if you wanted him to spend more time away from you while he hunted down the doppel-curses.

“Be good for me a bit longer, ‘kay baby?”

Yet his gentle coos don’t match his demeanor. 

Glasses long discarded, Gojo’s own blue eyes looked crazed. He’s unconcerned with the sweat matting his hair to the sides of his face or the wave of slick your pussy splashes onto his taut abs. Abs are shuddering from just how tight of a hold your pussy has on him—working him overtime as his heavy pants soon twist into deranged lil whines.

“M-Me and my lil’ buddy missed our two girls so, so, s-sooo much—AH-HAH-F-FAHHHCK! G-Gotta show ya just how much!” 

Shamelessly, Gojo had dubbed his cock—his little buddy—the joke that would have emasculated some men but Gojo made it intentionally with the irony that he was anything but little.

“T-They were made for each other baby—lil’ buddy and the wet pretty girl between these thighs, yeah?”

The ham that he is, Gojo always sounds extra insane whenever a camera is recording, howling with amusement when he watches the playbacks. Yet in this very moment, he was as serious as a heart attack—and you definitely weren't laughing as your weeping pussy gets pounded into deeper into ecstasy filled oblivion. 

“Shhh—Stawwp, S’toruuuuu!”

Tsk, you still could form a coherent thought?  

That simply wouldn’t do for Gojo who is working so hard and bought all these new toys to see you come completely undone—and he needed you too soon as he wouldn’t last much longer in your squishy gooey core himself—not how your cunt was holding him in the wettest sluttiest lil hug. 

There's still one item left that he hadn't used yet though, that in trying to keep up his sleeve he'd nearly forgotten about entirely—his own brain quickly leaving itself on simmer by your greedy lil’ pussy sucking him in so sloppy.

Slightly changing your position for more leverage, he throws one of your legs on his shoulder slotting himself between your cushy thighs while he straddles the other leg. Fucking you sideways with increasing intensity from the bruising grip on your hips pulling your pelvis towards on him as he meets your thrusts smacking directly into your cervix.

“Heh, I know what will finish you off! Ya ready to cum baby? Squirt all on this dick you love so much, eh Bunny?—Yeah ya fuckin' will.”

When you don’t answer right away Gojo delivers a harsh slap directly on your clit, the moisture causing the increased sting to intensify sending your senses into a state of floating. Yet, bringing you back to reality, another harsh smack lands on your cunt and you jerk against your restraints, nearly dropping the phone on your face for real this time.

You don’t understand what he's saying to you but you not regardless, eyes rolling back into your head—every single pore on your skin submerged in pleasure. Completely unaware, you don’t hear the additional buzz of the final toy until you feel its silicone lips latching onto your clit while the rigid faux tongue juts back and forth across your bud.

Eyes practically leaving your skull for the second time today, everything flashes white, blinding you even with your eyes wide open. A scream so guttural it comes out silent, the ball of tension in you finally bursting as releases flushes through your entire body.

Cumming harder than you ever had before, you just let go completely, gushing around Gojo’s thick cock still pistoning in your now drenched pussy. The splash zone from your cunt is quite a bit more than usual as a giant warm wet spot begins to soil and expand underneath you both.

Ears ringing, Gojo sounds a million miles away as you hear him chattering on about something—the phone?

You wiggle your fingers, realizing you must have dropped it, but you’re still clueless about what has him so excited—until Gojo’s voice finally slices through your haze, yelling out in absolute wonderment—

“HOLY SHIT BABY, DID YOU JUST PISS ON ME??? MMM FUCK ME FOR REAL!?—SHIT! YOU WETTER THAN A WATER PARK BUNNY—SO FUCKIN NASTY! PLEASEEEEEE PLEASEEEE TELL ME YOU GOT THAT ON CAMERA!”

Suddenly, it dawned on you that when you had let go, you had quite literally let it all go. 

You could die—and if you could muster the strength to move you surely would have raced out to the backyard to quickly dig yourself a whole to do just that in. Yet that clearly would not an acceptable conclusion for your degenerate perv of a boyfriend who is acting like a sinner saved—praising pussy like a newly reborn evangelist baptized in the essence of your erotic filth. 

His elation is simple as he figures how much you really had to trust him to be able to let go and lose yourself to him to that extent—now he wants to lose himself to you as well.

Easily drowning all inside your sloshing pussy like he never swam—Gojo doesn't stop, your pissing only encourages him to fuck himself further into a pussy drunk state to rival your own cock-induced stupor.

Yet, somehow he still maintains enough control to effectively lavish praises for how naughty and shameless your lil pussy is. 

The frenzy drives him directly to his nut, eyes dilate further and slobber frothes past his lips while spearing his cock into you with renewed vigor. Whimpering and stuttering his words and hips alike.  Gojo presses your leg draped across him back against you to be sandwiched between the two of you as leans forward to further ravage your swollen kiss bitten lips again. 

Twisting you up like a pretzel and near the point of passing out from overstimulation you his insane joyous laughter sounds miles away as he topples over his peak pumping ropes of his vicious cum—that he’d been saving up for all you over the last two days—into your battered creamy core. 

Gojo’s thrusts begin to slow but he’s in your guts just as far pushing cockhead right against your cervix stealing your lips into another fiery kiss.

Once Gojo finally lets you breathe air again, you’re completely out of it, the dopey blushing smile on your face. The embarrassment from pissing all over him is completely forgotten as hearts all for him linger in your eyes.

Sex with Toru was never dull to say the very least.

“There you go, there’s my good girl, huh Bunny? Not bored anymore baby?”

Gojo smirks down at you knowingly while peppering your face with sweet loving kisses as you’re steadily drifting off, allowing every exhausted nerve to claim you.

It's still a good minute before Gojo slides out of you, seeinghis discarded phone next to you—it's still recording. A mischevous smile plays on his lips.

Wanting to capture the aftermath of his handiwork, Gojo sweeps the phone across your body, thumbing off moisture from your dewy soft skin soiled with warming oil and sweat. Making sure to linger longer on your lightly heaving chest and the sporadic quiver of your thighs.

Zooming in even closer, Gojo’s two long fingers to part your swollen lips open, admiring more of his work—his masterpiece that was the copious amounts of cum and piss dribbling out of your abused lil’ hole down to the crack of your ass. 

Now Gojo really has a dilemma—he wants to keep filming you as his cum, ever so slowly, trickles out of you. He thinks this scene would make the perfect time-lapse of the creamy sap seeping from your cunt like sugar maple. But he’s also fighting the urge to also suck all the creaminess out of you himself—the cum rimming around your puckered lower hole tempting him to Gojo start there and slurp and suck his way up your clit. 

Truly, he never gets enough of how his taste mingles with yours—and he’s quite curious to know how the additional waterworks will add to your delectable flavor. 

You were so fucking filthy and so willing to try new things all thanks to this doppel quarantine causing you to make this big a mess in the first place.

God he needed this.

More. 

He had to have more from you. 

Gojo couldn’t possibly bring this all to an end anytime soon.  Cooing against your inner thigh Gojo makes a promise to your cunt.

“Heh, don't worry pretty girl, I'ma give you six more months of quarantine at least! Can't wait to—” 

“—TORU, ARE YOU FUCKING SHITTING ME RIGHT NOW!?!?”

Whoops.

Yeah he definitely thought you were already fast asleep—teehee.

......RESULT: PASSED 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚕𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍—𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛��𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚒𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚎.

that's not my jjk man series (visit series page for full animation)

comment and reblog! next up toji, already finished posting—10/20

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

[hellosweetart]

You saw this picture hidden under Nacha's desk. Something's written on the back.

"my two happy pills"

Then it hit you with realization: the milkman is Anastacha's father? How? When? No wonder you keep on seeing him meeting up with Nacha during his lunch breaks and his day offs. And he looks after Ana at school from afar.

That begs the question: why aren't they together? Nacha is not using Francis' last name. Why aren't they married? What kind of relationship are they having?

"Ahem..."

"You are snooping at my desk the whole time?"

Oops she caught you.

(Here's the colored version:)

(in spite of their questionable relationship, i still ship Nacha x Francis.)

[paracosm-draw]

I think grieving single father exhausted nerdy out of the dating pool awkward Anakin is my favourite flavour of Anakin

Give him a self-conscious divorced Obi-Wan who thinks his young and beautiful neighbour could never be attracted to an old guy like him and I'm hooked

[laurenairay]

What about a Jack Hughes next door neighbors to lovers? 🥰

Thank you for getting us started with the lovely Jack! I can absolutely share my thoughts on next door neighbours to lovers with him.

If we’re thinking of growing up next door to him, then I can see this playing out. Jack is an absolute sweetheart, that’s something we can agree on, and I love the idea of seeing this guy slowly fall in love over time.

I feel like he’s the type to be completely oblivious, until he’s faced with the idea of you not being around. Watching a random guy pick you up for a date? Makes him jealous as hell and he doesn’t realise why (until Quinn stares him down and makes him feel like an idiot).

But I also feel like once Jack decides he’s going after something, he’s all in. And when he decides he wants to woo you? It’s on baby.

Knocking on your door bring you flowers and breakfast? As often as he can get away with. Maybe to the point where your parents don’t even bother answering the door before a certain time, knowing it’s just going to be him.

I also have this silly idea for him throwing little pebbles at your bedroom window from the window that faces it, regardless of who’s room that is. Just because he wants you to know he’s thinking of you.

Like I said, sweetheart.

If we’re thinking of neighbours in New Jersey, I’m getting vibes of ‘oh no they’re pretty how am I supposed to process this’ in the journey in an elevator together. And when he finds out he lives on the same floor as you, this boy is lost from the moment he sees you.

Definitely the type to find excuses to go over and Luke wastes no time in making fun of him (“sugar? Again?” “I told her it’s your half-birthday?”) – and definitely wastes no time in telling the team.

Maybe it takes a big group of hockey players randomly watching you with Jack protesting for you to get a clue, but once it clicks it all makes sense. He’s a bit of a loveable idiot – and at least you’re not running low on sugar any more.

[writersp3n]

···➯ 𝐈𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

⋆.˚ ��͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐗 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: about your Francis x baker!reader what if he brings milk for the reader's pastries. >< That would be so cute.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞; All Francis and Baker!reader requests are like a warm-up for me, which most likely will be in the actual series once I start writing it!! Masterlist and other things regarding my blog are on my site.

07.08.24 | 𝟒𝟓𝟒 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

✂〰〰〰〰〰

Walking down the sidewalk, milk carrier in hand the sound of the bottles softly knocking against one another. The smell of fresh pastries filled Francis's senses, as he pushed open the door, to your bakery—the bell you had placed above the door, ringing. Announcing Francis's presents, he flashed a soft smile, watching you flash one back. "Mm, special delivery for a special girl." watching you walk around the counter toward him. Taking the carrier, he held, placing it on the table, before standing on your tippy toes and wrapping your arms around his neck. Being extra careful not to touch his clothes, with your apron. Francis was a little hesitant to return the gesture, but wrapped his arms around you.

You step back first, knowing that Francis wasn’t a touchy person, even though he allowed you to hug him; A privilege that took you many months to earn. “Thank you, so much for stopping by, I know you probably have a busy schedule and what not” You babbled on grabbing the milk carrier, and motioning Francis to follow you back. Entering the kitchen you took a milk Jar out of the carrier Francis held, Pouring it into the batter you have already made. “Mm, aren’t you.. Suppose to measure it?” Francis questioned break, the comforting silence you both shared. “You should, but I bake so much I don’t feel to the need too.” you answered, setting the jar down before grabbing your whisk and mixing the milk in the batter.

Lightly hitting the whisker on the rim of the bowl, “Fran, could you grab a pan from the cabinet for me?” You question, licking off what's left of the batter, from the batter. Francis didn’t say anything but your heard his shoes against the wooden floor, and soon his chest flushed against your back as he grab a pan, just as you requested. 

He handed you the pan, and watched as you spray butter into it, before evenly pouring the batter into it. And placing it the oven and putting on a timer, “Oh, here I made these for you!” You piped, walking over the fridge and open the freezer and grabbing a box of strawberries dipped in chocolate, with powdered sugar sprinkled over them. “I made these as a thank you.” You spoke smile plastered on your face. “Mm, Thanks,” Francis murmured taking the box with a small smile spreading across his features. You knew his favorite fruit, and one of his favorite things he liked to order when he stopped by. 

Loading the rest of the milk he intended to drop off, into the fridge. He tipped his hat at you, before you walked him back to the front waving him goodbye.

[mewintheflesh-2]

Without You

Rating: Teen and Up audiences

Archive warnings: None

Characters: Francis Mosses, Original Characters

Tags: Unrequited Love, heartbreak, Song: Without You (Strawberry Guy), Crushes, Unrequited Crushes, Francis Mosses has sensory issues (briefly mentioned), minor blood and injury, Francis deals with the qualms of being a retail worker (kinda), men crying, emotional hurt, hurt/no comfort, not beta read, Reader is gender neutral.

Word count: 1,800 (rounded down)

Summary: Francis wasnt having a good time.

And you're not about to make it any better

Also posted on Ao3

Francis sighed solomly as he gripped the now empty milk carrier. Hard enough to leave imprints on his hand and whiten his knuckles.

His black leather shoes clicked and clacked against the cold, concrete sidewalk. The sunset painting everything around him in a golden light. It'd be nighttime soon.

He lifted his free hand to his head and clutched his sweaty hair from underneath his hat. He was so tired. He just wanted to get home and sleep.

But he mostly just wanted to talk to you.

Even if you only really talked through that thick, protective window, youd been making more and more conversation with eachother each time you spoke, getting to know eachother more and more each day.

It wasnt long before Francis' lovesick brain fell head over heels.

It was everything about you. The way you looked, with a smile rivaling the warmth of the sun, and just as dangerous to his heart and mind. You always seemed to know exactly what to say to him to pull at his heart like a puppet on a string.

If he didnt know any better, hed say you were doing it on purpose.

He wouldnt mind either way.

Francis slugged up to the reception window, a weight lifted off of him at the sight of you at your desk.

He pushed his ID and Entry Request inside the letterbox for you to receive, planting his hands on the metal shelf jutting out of the wall just below the window; watching you expectantly with a simultaneous aching and soothing feeling in his heart.

After a minute of shuffling papers and opening folders, you look up at him.

"Hello, Francie." You smiled warmly at him.

There it was.

That nickname.

God how it made his heart swell. 

'Francie.'

Such a cute nickname

and it was just for him, gifted from you.

"How's your day been?" You tilted your head slightly at him, setting down and organizing his identification and sliding his profile back into the appropriate folder.

Francis looked at you for a second before frowning. "Not great." He sighed as he shook his head softly, looking down at his shoes.

Your eyebrows knit together in concern, a frown adorning your lips.

"I'm sorry, Francie. What happened, if you dont mind me asking?" Your voice was so warm and soft as you leaned in closer to the window.

It made Francis' heart flutter for a second before he had to think back to all that had happened earlier.

"It's just a lot of little things building up. I'm probably more upset about it than I should be." Francis looked down at his hands, and then up to you.

The expression on his face was just killing your heart. 

"Im all ears." You speak softly as you push your chair in closer to your desk, and by extension, the window.

"If theres anything you need to say, then say it. Its always nice to get things off your chest, dont you think?" You smile softly at him, pushing your chair closer to your desk, and closer to the window by extension.

"Are you sure?" Francis looked around, almost worried. Surely he'd be taking up your time on your job if he did that, right?

"I have all the time in the world-- and I'd rather be talking to you than anything else right now." You assured, that deadly warm smile on your lips again.

The words made Francis feel warm and soft.

A small smile appeared on his face for a brief, fleeting moment. 

 Francis stared at you for a moment, as if asking for approval to speak.

You nod.

He sighed, looking down at the metal shelf infront of him as his ungloves hands tapped at it, wondering where to begin.

"Its just- work has been just awful today.  Someone had left their dog outside, as soon as it saw me it wouldn't stop chasing me, i tried to run away, but it eventually caught up to me and bit my leg.

It wouldnt let go until I had to pry it off of me. And even then it didn't leave me alone for awhile. Not until it's owners came back to take it off of me." 

You frowned, trying to open your mouth to speak, but Francis kept talking.

"And because of that dog, i dropped and broke multiple milk bottles on the sidewalk. So after the dog got taken off of me, i tried picking up the glass since I didn't want anybody accidentally stepping on it because of me, but the shards cut me. Badly. Even through my gloves."

He held his hand up to the window for you to see. There were bloodied bandages wrapped around his hand, and several smaller cuts on his bare fingers. 

You cringe at the sight.

"I had to take them off to clean the wounds, and everything has just been sensory hell ever since." Francis' face draws to a grimace.

"And to make things worse, I had to deal with people yelling at me for being incompetent for losing their deliveries."

He clenched his jaw, his expression doesn't look anything but sad.

"Even though it wasn't even my fault. I'm not the one who left their dog outside. And just to top it off, I've had a horrible migrane all day, and It's just-" He inhales and groans,  collapsing onto the metal shelf infront of him.

"I just want to take a break. I just want to rest."

He mumbles as he tucks his face into his folded arms.

Silence, for a moment.

"Francie........... That's awful-- I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?" You frown sympathetically as you push you chair forward even more, squishing yourself against your desk and placing a hand on the window infront of you.

Francis lifted his head to look up at your hand, and then at you.

"I think talking to you and going to sleep is  enough for me to feel better." Francis smiled briefly before registering what he'd said, casting his gaze anywhere but you after he realized what he'd spoken.

You laugh softly. "If you say so."

Silence for a bit, as Francis regains his composure.

He lifts himself up, slowly propping himself on his elbows on the shelf, leaning his head on his knuckles, huffing out a breath of air.

"...How was your day?" He asks after a beat, head tilted curiously.

You smile, retracting your hand from the window. "My days been pretty slow, but im meeting someone later, so im pretty excited for that."

Meeting someone?

...

Francis blinked for a second. His expression faltering to a look of sadness for just a moment.

No. Surely you didnt mean it like that.

"Meeting someone...?" He echoed.

"Mhm." You smiled softly at the thought. "We met just a few days ago. He seems pretty nice, I'm excited to get to know him more." You lean your head on your hand, mirroring the man behind the glass.

"A-ah.......... Congratulations." Francis did his best to refrain from letting any indication of his emotions fall upon his face as he straightened himself out; but he couldn't help but frown. 

"Francie? Are you alright?" You tilted your head the slightest bit, voice a catalyst of concern for the man standing on the other side of the thick, protective glass. 

"Mhm. I just remembered something. Apologies." He held the brim of his cap between his pointer and thumb, pulling it down over his eyes the slightest bit to avoid looking at you. But he really couldn't help himself.

"Oh, alright. Is there, uh, anything I can help you with?" Your voice was calm and careful in a way that just broke poor Francies heart even more. "About what you remembered- I mean." 

"No, no. It's fine. Thanks for the offer." He shook his head softly, forcing a small smile as he looked down at the shelf infront of him.

"Of course, Francie." Your eyebrows knit together in concern. "Just let me know if there's anything I can do for you. You can tell me anything." 

"Mhm. Thank you." Francis took a quick glance at the door, before looking back in your direction-- though nowhere near directly at you. You put together he was probably signaling to you that he wanted to leave now.

"I'll see you tommorow?" Your voice was soft, sweet, a delicacy and a curse to Francis' ears.

There was a light buzzing noise as you pressed the button to unlock the main entrance. 

"Mhm. Goodbye." He waved at you softly, only actually looking into your eyes for a brief, fleeting moment before walking away. 

"Goodbye........." You spoke quietly, a soft pit in your stomach as you watched Francis dissappear through the doors.

You were so caught off guard by his sudden change in behavior you nearly forgot to lock the door again.

He usually liked to stay for as long as he could.

Was it something you said?

You frowned, leaning back in your chair and fidgeting with some papers.

You'd have to ask him about it tomorrow.

Again began the waiting for your neighbors to return to their apartments.

Francis opened his apartment door with shaking hands, keys jingling as they were set on his kitchen counter.

With a heavy sigh, he flicked on his lamp, enveloping the room in a warm yellow glow, trying to keep his composure.

Slowly but surely he kicked off his shoes, grabbing and throwing his hat onto his dresser.

Just as he was about to unbutton his uniform he was hit with a sudden disgusting, sickening feeling in his chest as tears welled up in his eyes.

He shook his head, eyes squinting involuntary as he let himself fall onto his bed.

He lied there, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore anything he was feeling.

But no matter how many times he tried, something still peeked through.

He inhaled sharply through his nose as he flipped himself over onto his stomach, nestling his face into his soft pillows.

The feeling in his chest was too intense to bear, he could feel his breath become sporadic, unsure if it was because his face was buried in his pillows or otherwise.

He inhaled sharply once more, this time followed followed by a small Hic as his throat began to close up.

No, no, he wasn't going to cry. It's not that big of a deal. He's fine. He should be happy for you if anything.

But. With everything that happened up until that point. He really couldn't help himself from letting his emotions get the best of him.

Hot tears soaked into his pillow as his hands clutched at his hair violently, hissing in pain as his wounds flexed open.

He grits his teeth, another hic escaping his lips as he opened his eyes into the pillow.

Nothing but a warm, yellowish void.

 He pushed himself up and flipped onto his side, curling into himself, yanking a blanket over his shoulders before clutching his head, throbbing in a burning pain once again as he cried quietly.

He didn't even turn off the lamp before he'd passed out.

Silent, steady breathing, wet cheeks illuminated by the soft yellow light of his lamp. 

Tired eyes, finally getting their well deserved rest. 

An aching heart, beating slowly, deep inside his chest.

[sempersirens]

a bird in your teeth, I

masterlist

summary: since moving into the neighborhood a couple of years ago, you've become close with the miller family. as a young woman living alone joel is protective of you, and he intends to show you how much so

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+, mdni, neighbour!joel, age gap: reader is early-mid 20s, joel early 30s. no break-out. no smut (yet)

word count: ~1k

"Okay, missy. Bedtime!" Slapping your knees, you rise from your armchair to eject the copy of Notting Hill from the Millers' VCR.

You check your watch and curse softly under your breath. 10:06 pm. Joel should be pulling into the driveway any minute.

"Are there really guys like Hugh Grant back in England?" Sarah asks, tossing her quilt over her shoulder and bundling the pillows under her arm.

"If there are, I could never find them."

"That why you moved all the way across the ocean?"

You turned to Sarah, clutching your chest in mock outrage.

"Maybe. I liked the idea of finding a cowboy. Like Clint Eastwood!" You giggled and clapped your hands together. "Anyway, get upstairs before your old man gets home and initiates a Mexican standoff because I let you stay up past nine on a school night."

Smoothing down Sarah's hair, you place a quick kiss on the top of her head before scurrying her up the stairs.

"Goodnight!" She shouted over her shoulder before her bedroom door closed behind her.

Sarah was definitely old enough to look after herself on evenings like these, but since you moved into the neighborhood a few years ago it became routine to watch the teenager whenever her dad was going to be home late. Neither of you minded, you had bonded like sisters over your time spent together, despite your ten year age gap. You got the impression that Joel liked knowing you were both under one roof while he was away.

Ain't no need f'a young woman to be alone too long he would say, always eliciting an eye roll from both you and Sarah.

Living alone wasn't something that bored or intimidated you. On the contrary; independence excited you. The thrill hadn't subsided in the slightest. Texas had been more than welcoming to you since you decided to leave North London for a new life. As soon as you received the scholarship letter to undertake a Ph.D. at UT Austin, your bags were packed and you hailed a cab to Heathrow Airport.

You had, however, been immediately put at ease when you pulled up to your new home and caught a glimpse of Joel and Sarah walking to the truck in their driveway, lost in conversation, wide-eyed and giddy on an inside joke. You watched over time as the two spent their days in a blissful world of their own making, soaking up each other's company as naturally as the sun burns into the tops of your shoulders on a hot afternoon.

It had been an exceptionally warm Friday evening when Joel first knocked on your front door.

"Evening, ma'am." He had spoken, tipping his head slightly with his hands tucked loosely in his jeans pockets. Your palms had instantly turned clammy, internally praying that he didn't reach a hand forward to introduce himself.

"Hey. What can I do for you?" You had just about managed a reply between mediating your quickened breathing and trying to actually speak words rather than babble.

The rest of the encounter felt like it had flown by. Joel had invited you to a barbecue, too many burgers for jus' two people, he had reasoned. No such thing, you'd replied. Like you had needed any incentive to accept his invitation. You spent the evening with your ankles dipped in their paddling pool, belly laughing and wiping ketchup from the corners of your mouth. You'd be lying if you said your stomach didn't flutter every time Joel directed a question or comment solely toward you, or that your breath didn't hitch when you accidentally brushed fingers passing him the bottle opener. But that had been then, and you promised yourself you wouldn't get so Pride and Prejudice about a man you had just met. A single father, no less. As time passed, you spent most weekends together along with Joel's brother Tommy. Barbecues, family get-togethers, birthday parties; you were invited to them all. Weekends bled into weeknights, and you became an extension of their little family, let into their secret language of exchanged glances and inside jokes.

Lines were never crossed between you and Joel, but that knot in your stomach never seemed to fade either. You knew it was just an unreciprocated crush; misplaced gratitude for all the kindness he had shown you. Southern hospitality and charm had that effect.

Pulling you from your thoughts, Joel's truck headlights illuminated the living room. You quickly cleared the bowls of popcorn and bags of M&Ms from the coffee table before heading into the kitchen to refill your glass of water.

Joel's keys turned in the door and you heard his shoes wiping on the doormat. He called your name softly.

"In here." You responded in just above a whisper.

He walked in wearing a smart button-up, the top two undone, rubbing a hand over his stubble.

"Pint?"

"If you'd be so kind, darlin'." Joel sighed, pulling out a stool before tapping the one next to him for you to perch on.

"Date not go so well?"

"Do they ever?" He laughed as you handed him a cold bottle of beer. "Not having one f'yourself?"

"They won't if you keep expecting them to be a disaster. None for me, I need to head out soon. Meeting some friends for a few at a bar in the city."

"They're all fine women. Just got nothin' in common. S'probably me."

It made you feel dirty when Joel came back tipsy. With his guard down and inhibitions numbed, he was so open. It felt like you were taking advantage of him. You had to fight everything inside of you to argue with his self-deprecation. Of course it wasn't him. He was the perfect man. You tried to not show too much pleasure at his string of failed first dates.

"Should've told me y'had plans, sugar. I would've come back earlier so you could get goin'."

You waved his statement away. "It's no problem, the less time I'm there the better. I should probably head off, though." Before you could move to grab your keys, Joel's hand hovered over yours resting on the table.

"Thank you, by the way. I doubt I say it enough." Eye contact with Joel always stirred something inside of you. Those damn brown eyes. You smiled at him, softly.

"You don't need to thank me, Joel. I like spending time with Sarah. You know that."

He shook his head slightly. "S'not just that. I mean for everythin'. If you ever need me, you call. You know that, right? Hate thinkin' 'bout you in that house all alone."

It's not the first time he had said something of the sort. You always assumed it was the over-protective father inside of him, bursting out at the seams. Or maybe his Southern chivalry finding its feet after a couple of beers.

"Thank you, Joel. I appreciate it." You turned your hand in his and squeezed once before making your way to the door. You felt his eyes on you as you walked. You always felt his eyes on you. Sometimes you would be changing in front of your window and be sure you could feel Joel's gaze from across the street burning into you. But whenever you turned around, he was never there.

"I'm sorry your date didn't go well." You said, lingering in the doorway.

Joel scrunched his nose slightly and shook his head.

"I'm not."

a/n: hi guys! this is my first fic uploaded to tumblr lol kind of nervy but hope you guys enjoy. i plan on writing a couple more parts to this! message me for taglist for part two!

dee x

[getmehighonmagic]

“Hi, Mister Henry!” Rory shrieks. “Papi said you’re alone and we don’t want you to be alone, because it’s Christmas, so now we brought you dinner! Can I play with your doggy?” Henry’s eyes widen the longer Rory yaps at him. His mouth opens and closes a few times, before he helplessly looks up at Alex. Alex smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, what she said,” he says like a total dork, because Henry’s eyes are really fucking blue and Alex is really fucking screwed.

Merry Christmas, friends! Chapter two is coming in the upcoming days ♥

@blueeyedgrlwrites @sparklepocalypse @kiwiana-writes @happiness-of-the-pursuit @affectionatelyrs

@indomitable-love @heysweetheart-writes @orchidscript @wordsofhoneydew @firenati0n

@hgejfmw-hgejhsf @anchoredarchangel @clottedcreamfudge @anincompletelist @cricketnationrise

@lostcol @matherines @thinkof-england @inexplicablymine @three-drink-amy

@priincebutt @nocoastposts @littlemisskittentoes @cha-melodius @freyjaexplores

@itsmaybitheway @saturntheday @bitbybitwrites @ninzied @porcelainmortal

@firstsprinces @suseagull5914 @thesleepyskipper

[kifflepiffles]

Milk, Flour, and Sugar.

(Pssst, @albaricomics Thank you for giving me motivation, I really enjoyed writing this <3 )

Our goobers deserve a break

Francis Mosses x Nacha Mikaelys

Content warning; Suggestive themes towards the end, but nothing actually happens

Word count; 1.9k

Edit: I forgot my tumblr posts tend to get traction ^^; this takes place in a universe that assumes a headcanon for Francis, Nacha, and Ana that I wrote in great detail. It's in my top posts, but it's a but wordy, so TL;DR for context:

- Francis and Nacha are highschool sweethearts who were kicked out of their homes once the pregnancy was discovered.

- They dropped out of school and started working. They moved into the apartments where the game takes place

- They are 17 and 18 when this fic takes place.

- Nacha has a part time job as a store clerk while taking culinary classes.

- this takes place before Francis took his milkman job. Currently, Francis works night shift at a steel factory, both because night shift pays extra so he can support himself and help Nacha, and because the alternating schedule makes it easier to have someone constantly caring for Anastacia while she's an infant

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

A soft breeze had flowed through the open kitchen window. Leaning back against the counter, Francis held this daughter in his arms, sitting her up against his shoulder and holding a glass bottle to the infant’s mouth. She had turned 7 months old about a week ago. Yet her parents still couldn’t get enough of her. The young man’s head tilted back, gazing at the ceiling he had freshly painted a white coat over so he could get a discount on rent. For the first time all day, A gentle smile cracked his stoic face,

“Fill my heart with song,” He hummed to his daughter, letting his heavy eyes softly close “And let me sing forever more,” His body gently swayed to the rhythm he set, rocking Anastacha as she drank, 

“You are all I long for … All I worship and…” Francis’s head tilted back down as his eyes fluttered open. Ana had pushed his hand away. Noticing the bottle still had some formula left, he directed it back towards her mouth. She had pushed him away again, this time with an angry yell, causing him to jump a bit. Not even a year old, and yet she was growing remnants of her independence. The young father chuckled, 

“Alright, you insist,” He hummed as he placed the bottle on the counter behind him and took his daughter into both hands. He raised her above his head, admiring his little creation. 

“You’re going to be a fiery one, Mm?  I can already feel it,” He cooed dreamily, watching his little girl babble and look around the kitchen. Though his trance had been interrupted by knocking on the door.

Francis looked in the direction of the knocking as he lowered Ana back into his arms, “Looks like Mommy’s back,” He narrated to her mindlessly as he walked over to the front door and glanced through the peephole to ensure it was her. 

The energy had shifted once Francis opened the door for his ex, stepping aside to let her in,

“Hey,” He greeted dryly, clearing his throat and fixing his posture,

“Hi,” Nacha greeted back as she stepped in. Ana leaned forward, reaching out for her mother with an exclamation, making her smile. “Hi, my baby,” she hummed. Francis leaned over to allow Nacha to take their daughter from him. “How was she today?”

“Good, we slept for about two hours, and I just fed her. She’s getting sassy,” He reported, making Nacha giggle,

 “Is she?” She asked turning to their baby, “Are you getting sassy Ana? Is Ana being sassy?” She cooed, tickling her and blowing a raspberry into her cheek, making the infant squeal with excitement and both parents laugh. A glimpse of the joyous family life they have both been promised all their young lives. But it soon faded, and it was silent once again. 

The two stood across from each other, their heads tilted down to avoid eye contact. Anxious, awkward.

“Well…” Nacha began, turning a bit to excuse herself. Another evening of potential had failed. But instead, Francis cleared his throat again and shut the door.

“Mm, How was work? …Class? Work and Class? … Uh, Could… may I  get you anything to drink?” He stuttered out. Nacha lifted her head and softly smiled, A bittersweet sting flooding her chest. 

`”It was alright, some water would be lovely,” She answered. Taking it as an invitation to stay, she timidly sat on the couch, gently bouncing Anastacha in her arm while Francis sauntered to the next room over. A sigh left Nacha’s lips before she gently set her baby down on the floor. The living room was cluttered with stuffed animals and teething toys. Their situation was unfortunate, but seeing her ex take such diligent care of their daughter sparked something back to life within her. For the first time since they were in school, her heart was fluttering. He made her feel excited and full of life. 

It was a matter of seconds for Francis to come back with a full glass for Nacha, and a mug of coffee for himself. He stopped right outside the narrow kitchen archway, allowing the infant to slowly and unsteadily crawl past him. She was still getting used to being mobile. 

“Mm, The traffic, they really should put a stop sign here,” He quipped as he set their drinks down on the coffee table, hoping he could make Nacha laugh.  He had gotten what he hoped for, the young lady began giggling, and a small flash of satisfaction illuminated the dullness within him for a moment while he sat down beside her. 

Silence, again. It was a common occurrence for the both of them. At first, it was to keep the peace. Now, it was because both of them had racing thoughts, they were on the same page but didn’t know it yet. Taking a sip from her water, Nacha cleared her throat and took a gentle breath

:”So… How’s the factory treating you? I imagine the night shift must be rough,” She asked. Francis shrugged and took a sip of his coffee,

“It’s alright,” He started, groaning as reached his arms up to stretch his shoulders, “Mmm, Tiring. but we get a good amount of downtime. Not like anyone’s up to watch us,” He concluded before leaning back and grabbing his mug from off the table. Nacha looked down at the floor and let a coy smile crack her expression,

“I suppose that’s nice,” She hummed, glancing back at him, “Are you free this weekend? I was thinking we could maybe go out somewhere,” She suggested, receiving a double take and a raised brow from Francis,

“Really?” He asked, sounding genuinely surprised before Nacha reached a hand out with wide eyes, her head shaking with embarrassment, “Uh-! For Ana, maybe we could head out to the park or something with her,” She added, making Franicis lean back and hum. She could’ve sworn she saw a hint of a gloom scowl on his face. She shook the thought and shifted in discomfort. It’s done, She thought, It’s been. We weren’t meant to be. That’s okay, She attempted to console to herself, biting back burning tears in her cheeks, threatening to make the evening even more uncomfortable than it already was

“I mean, mm, I wouldn’t… really mind spending some time with you. Especially with Anastacha. I say we do it. We can do it on Saturday maybe,” He suggested. Nacha looked back at him with a beaming smile.

“Oh, really? That’s great honey,” She gleamed. Francis glanced away with a scoff and rubbed the back of his neck. It was a slip up, he knew it was. But he couldn’t help but take it to heart.

“Uh, heh, yeah,” He started, his voice cracking with an anxious blush forming on his face, “I’m sure it will be. It’s a plan,”

feeling the discomfort radiate off of Francis made Nacha dizzy with embarrassment. This is my sign to leave. You got what you wanted, anyway. She thought, rubbing her own shoulder and clearing her throat.

“Well, I should get going,” She stated as she stood up, straightening out her skirt, “You have work soon. And… you need your sleep,” She was in a bit of a hurry to leave as she walked towards Ana, “Come here baby,” She whispered as she lifted her daughter into her arms. Francis stood up as well, nodding 

“Alright,” He stated rather flatly. Part of him didn’t want her to leave. The other part begged her to. He walked over to the door, waiting for her to follow and opening it for her as she approached. 

“... Bye Francis,” Nacha greeted hesitantly. But before she could walk out the door, Francis’s hand was on her cheek. And before she could think about it, His lips gently landed on hers. Just for a moment, just to say goodbye, it couldn't hurt. He pulled back after a moment and gazed at his ex, who’s eyes seemed to be glistening with tears.

“Oh,, Francis…” Nacha whispered. She gently placed Ana back down on the floor, letting her crawl back to her toys, and carefully pushed the door closed again. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned back in, kissing him again. He let it happen for a few moments. Truly, he had missed her. Her skin, her smell, her passion. Everything that tempted him and got them into this mess in the first place. But he still restrained himself. He couldn’t ruin this again. Now it was more than just him and his lover. If he fucked up again, he would be screwing things up for his baby girl, too. 

“Mm,, Nacha,” He tried to interrupt. Nacha sensually sighed into his mouth. She had been starved of him, craving for months. She couldn’t handle just a taste, she needed to take a bite. “Francis…” She moaned into his mouth, letting her hand tangle into the hair that laid on his neck. He grabbed her shoulders, and pushed her back.

“Nacha!” He barked,, making his lover flinch and his baby look up. He lowered his head, already feeling remorse for snapping. 

Silence. Again, the apartment was filled with silence. Agonizing, writhing silence. 

“Nacha,” He said in a more gentle tone, his guilt lingering behind his words, “The baby, sweetpea. The baby,” Tears welled in Nacha’s eyes

“I’ll… I’ll put her in the playpen. We can go into your room instead,” She scrambled to fix, but he shook his head,

“No, honey. No. You… You should go home,” He suggested as he turned away, not wanting to see Nacha begin sniffling. A pit formed in her chest as the rejection began sinking in,

“But…” She started, but a shivering weep cut her off, “Please, Please Francis. I miss you so much, honey,” She sobbed, placing her hand on his shoulder and making him tense. His throat began to grow sore, threatening to make him join her wallowing. He shook his head again,

“I miss you too, Nacha, I do. But… I- I just can’t. I can’t do this. Not today, not now,” He tried to explain. He turned back to her, letting his hand rest on her face again. His voice was gentle, as if to console her, yet firm, as if to remind himself of what he was putting at risk.  “Another time, honey. I promise. Another time.” 

“Why… Why not?” Nacha whimpered. Francis hung his head down, “I…” He sighed, using his free hand to wipe his eyes, “I just can’t do it, okay? Please, go home, honey. Bring Ana home, and take care of yourself. Please,” 

“Okay,” Nacha whispered. She sniffled and wiped her eyes with her forearms, then nodded, “:Alright,” She said a bit louder this time, as if to assure it to herself. She gathered her baby into her arms, and returned yet again to the door. 

“Have a good day at work,” She wished, her tone flat and lifeless. Francis silently nodded, “I’ll see you later.”

The door shut behind her. And the silence was back. A heavy sigh left the young man’s chest as he plopped down on his couch. He put his hands over his eyes with a groan

“Mmm… Oh my god,” He groaned before taking a deep breath, trying to rub the stress out of his face. He laid back, letting his arms cross over his chest. He was too worked up to sleep now. He was nervous, excited, feeling sick to his stomach as he processed what went on between them. 

At least he had a day out with them planned. 

[radio-kyoma]

My newest "hear me out"

I wanna draw him in his hat but eruggghh I just know it's gonna kill me

I'll have some other things to post soon it's be a interesting month to say the least ✌️

[arenabreadandbiscuits]

Now why none of you crusty... I mean loving and beautiful people ain't tell me about that "Thast not my neighbor" game.

Tell me why my heart racing after spending 20 minutes looking at vids and Fanart of him?

The Milkman so fine, now I gotta go look into the game just to write stories 🤭

Like here's one scenario right?:

(keep in mind I haven't seen much of the game but oh lord am I ready)

You run into bros doppelganger and he gets obsessed with you. Takes his time with it and everything, will play the role of actually being human but just greeting you gives him a rush.

It's hard not going right to you but oh it's like edging him. Tempting him in all the worse ways and really bro wants to eat you but there's also a hunger that comes from wanting to get close enough just once.

For some reason the idea that he's so close every time to losing it be getting to me (😔😩) bro definitely plays nice just to see if you'll let em in.

And if you do and he actually manages to get his claws- hands on you bro's gonna definitely do things like taste you, hold you down and all types of unsavory stuff.

It's like you'd purposely had been driving him nuts and bro is mad about it.

Imagine:

Even KNOWING he's a doppelganger and still testing your luck. Imagine something fucked like the electricity goes out and your are the very first target.

It's definitely giving primal and I'm loving it.

I'mma fr write this bruh.. what y'all think? 🫣

[askfrancie]

Stay mad, Scarlet. Hoon is just cooler than you are.

☆→ “HAHA GET FUCKED—“

support me on Ko-Fi!

[hellosweetart]

Lovely Chef

She is so pretty. No wonder a certain someone fell in love with her.

Some people say she is a chef in a resto, which is plausible. For me, she may be working in a bakeshop/cafe and working as a pastry chef. And then met Francis. I imagine they developed a secret passionate love and then Ana came in and...She and him decided to broke off their relationship because premarital affair is considered a taboo back in the 50s. While they are no longer together, Francis is still willing to help her for their child's financial needs, much to her delight. That's why he is overworked as you can see in his tired eyes. Both of them has decided that its best that they look for another partner and both are okay with open relationship.

But if things get tough, like they had stressful times at work or it had something to do with Doppelganger issue, they do call or see each other secretly if they needed some emotional support and...physical intimacy.

Meanwhile Ana is unaware that her father is Francis (that is until the story progresses) but she finds it weird that Nacha is acting strange whenever she comes across with the milkman, and one time while she is on the way to the kitchen, her mother is talking sweetly to someone on the phone, as if she is talking to a lover. When the kid asked who that was, her mother just brushed it off and said, "Its just a friend, honey...oh look at the time, I have to cook your favorite pancakes!"

Nacha knows that her daughter is clever enough to realize she is hiding something, and so she make sure to hide the secret letters he's been receiving from Francis as well as the uhm...condoms she bought from a local adult store.

That's just my theory.

How about you guys? What do you think about their relationship?

[ughgoaway]

Maybe something festive for the neighbours? Girly gets home from work Xmas party and can hear matty playing guitar and she's all ready to knock and complain about the noise until she realises he's singing Lonely This Christmas and gets all in her feels

anon this is so devastating but also SUCH A GOOD IDEA. kissing you on the head rn.

you're stumbling in slightly tipsy from work drinks. The gallery was very generous with the champagne budget this year, and you can tell from the slight stumble in your walk and your heels in your hands.

you're standing at your door fumbling with your keys when you hear the strumming coming from Matty's apartment. And to be quite honest, you have 0 energy for it. it's past 1am and all you want to do is make instant ramen and pass out in bed.

(more below the cut as usual)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

so you open your door a crack, unceremoniously throwing your heels inside and turning around ready to give matty a piece of your mind. your fist is lifted ready to knock, but its only then your brain starts to realise what song he's singing along to.

"And the only things I see are emptiness and loneliness, and an unlit Christmas tree" he sings to himself, and whilst his playing annoys you, you can't deny he's fucking talented. strumming along mindlessly, playing it note perfect with his melancholy singing tying it all together.

you freeze for a few seconds, listening intently before you come up with something. you move away from his door and sneak back into your place, scrawl a note on a scrap piece of paper, and grab something from your kitchen counter before sliding back out. you place it delicately in front of his door and have flashbacks to your childhood when you knock and run, quickly but quietly shutting your door before he can get to his.

matty huffs when he hears the knock, assuming its the grouchy old man on the other side of him coming to complain again. but he can't bring himself to care even if it is. he couldn't get back to Manchester this Christmas because of a massive storm, and the boys all had the forethought to leave earlier, so were already home. leaving him in london completely alone until at least new years, and he was feeling appropriately depressed about it.

he opens his door slowly, but blinks a few times when he's met with no-one on the other side. he's about to close the door and chalk it up to his wine drunk imagination when he looks down, and there on his doormat was a small red tin decorated with Christmas trees.

he curiously picks it up and brings it in, sitting on his sofa as he opens it. he peels the lid off and is immediately met with a scrap of paper on top, he picks up the note gently, whispering to himself as he reads it out.

"Matty,

you're not totally alone this Christmas, text me (xxxxxxxxxxx) if you need somewhere to celebrate. I can't promise it won't be a little hostile, but it'll be warm, good food at least.

y/n"

he smiles and places the note on his coffee table before looking properly in the tin. perfectly decorated sugar cookies sit in a pile, shaped like candy canes and wreaths with royal icing covering them.

he doesn't end up texting you, managing to find a last-minute train that was somehow running and spends Christmas in his mums house as he always had before. but the tin pops up back at your door before he goes, filled with flowers and a note simply saying "thank you x"

[sidekick-hero]

You know I'm a show off (I would let you get some)

(steddie | explicit | 6.4k | AO3)

And so begins the longest ten minutes of Eddie Munson's life.

He's standing there, the sun beating down on them, but he's sweating for a completely different reason as he watches Steve contort himself to reach every last inch of his precious BMW. His shorts are riding dangerously high, just barely revealing the curve of his round ass more than once. There are moles all over his skin, like constellations waiting to be explored by adventurous hands and lips. The hair on his legs looks soft, so light it's almost blonde, and Eddie wants to run his fingers over it, scratch the creamy white skin of his inner thighs and leave his mark on that perfect body.

Or: Steve washes his car just for Eddie to get it dirty again.

Eddie was going to die. Death by sexual frustration. Or spontaneous combustion. Maybe a heart-attack. No matter how, his neighbor would be the death of him.

He and his best friend Chrissy just moved into the duplex three weeks ago, but Eddie was already on the brink of insanity. Just last week he had to witness said neighbor — Steve, the most boring name for the most exciting creature he ever laid eyes on — water his garden in nothing but red swimming trunks, his skin glistening in the sun like that creepy vampire Chrissy was so obsessed with. Eddie had wanted to lick every drop of sweat from his body, soothe the blooming sunburn on his shoulders and nose with his spit, and ask him to water something else with his hose.

And to add insult to injury, the guy was not only gorgeous, but nice. Like, super nice. He's always polite, always handing out smiles like candy on Halloween. He never stares at Chrissy in that sleazy way that too many guys do. There are no loud parties. Hell, the guy even separates his garbage. Eddie's pretty sure he also rescues kittens from trees in his spare time.

When they had moved in, Steve had come over and offered his help, just like that. Being a little overwhelmed and a lot exhausted from moving both of their belongings in one day, they had gratefully accepted. Steve had carried box after box, his biceps straining against the sleeves of his polo shirt. Despite the heat and the sweat running down his face and neck, he smelled heavenly every time he walked by Eddie. He would brush up against him or press in close as they both tried to lift something from the moving truck, and Eddie had to close his eyes and will himself to calm down. He was sure he'd get a hard-on every time he smelled Steve's cologne from now on.

Today's special torture was Steve washing his car in front of his garage. Wearing nothing but a white tank top and the shortest jean shorts Eddie has ever seen in his life, which is saying something considering his best friend is an ex-cheerleader. What the fuck was this guy thinking? Does this count as assault?

The top and shorts were already soaked, clinging to Steve's body like a second skin and leaving little to the imagination. Not that Eddie's imagination didn't still run wild with what it was given. So wild, in fact, that Eddie doesn't even notice how he all but drops the groceries he was trying to carry to the house back into his van, and walks over to the godlike creature, who is acting out a scene that could have come straight out of one of Eddie's wet dreams.

He only realizes what he's doing when Steve looks up from where he's been scrubbing the hood of his car with a soapy sponge and asks him, "Uh... can I help you?"

"I noticed you're washing your car," Eddie says dumbly.

The corners of Steve's lips twitch like he's hiding his amusement. "Yup," he says, popping the p. "Want me to wash yours? I already have everything out.”

Eddie glances at Steve's crotch before he can stop himself and thinks, I wish you would.

"Yeah," he says dreamily, licking his lips. He can't remember what Steve asked, but the answer would always be yes, as long as he could stand here and stare at him.

"Great. I'm almost done here, then we can start on your van. Gimme ten."

And so begins the longest ten minutes of Eddie Munson's life.

He's standing there, the sun beating down on them, but he's sweating for a completely different reason as he watches Steve contort himself to reach every last inch of his precious BMW. His shorts are riding dangerously high, just barely revealing the curve of his round ass more than once. There are moles all over his skin, like constellations waiting to be explored by adventurous hands and lips. The hair on his legs looks soft, so light it's almost blonde, and Eddie wants to run his fingers over it, scratch the creamy white skin of his inner thighs and leave his mark on that perfect body.

The tank top is also see-through, revealing spectacular tits that Eddie is dying to get his hands on, and a tantalizing patch of dark chest hair that he needs to bury his face in.

Steve absentmindedly wipes the hair plastered to his forehead away with the hand that’s not holding the sponge. His muscles move under his wet skin, and Eddie thinks back to the easy way he picked up his amp from the moving truck and carried it up the stairs to Eddie's room. He could probably lift Eddie as well and the thought does nothing to relax the situation in his pants. They are getting uncomfortably tight and he prays to whoever is listening that it will go down fast.

"Okay, all done. Looking gorgeous again, sweetheart." Steve says, petting the hood of his car and Eddie chuckles.

Steve looks up at him as if expecting Eddie to mock him, so Eddie raises his hands in a reassuring gesture and says, "Hey, no judgment from me. I got my own sweetheart hanging on my bedroom wall, I get it."

"Oh, your guitar, right?"

"Yeah, it was my first electric guitar. I wrote all the songs for my band’s album on her. She holds a special place in my heart."

Steve smiles at him, his hazel eyes warm and open. "I know what you mean," he says as he watches his fingers dance over the gleaming metal one more time before looking back at Eddie, his gaze wandering along his frame, his eyes subtly widening at the sight of the probably still very obvious bulge in Eddie's pants.

Eddie can feel the heat creeping up his body, embarrassed at being caught, but Steve only swallows once, Adam's apple bobbing, before clearing his throat and throwing his thumb over his shoulder. "Just need to put it in and we're good to go."

"Put it...in?" Eddie chokes out, trying to subtly adjust his pants at the mental image.

Steve smirks at his reaction, and Eddie starts to think that his neighbor isn't such a goodie-two-shoes as he originally thought.

"The car? It needs to go into the garage so we can put your van in my driveway to clean it."

"Oh yeah, absolutely. By all means, put it in." Eddie cringes at his own words. Good God, what is wrong with him?

Steve nods, his appraising eyes still lingering on Eddie for a moment before he gets into the car. He waits for the garage door to slide open before he drives the BMW into the spacious room. Eddie is watching, his brain is still not back online after the show he just witnessed, so he doesn't question it when Steve gets out of the car and calls him over to come in; he has something to show him. He just steps into the garage and walks over to where Steve is standing in front of the hood.

Suddenly, the garage door slides back down, shutting out the outside world and leaving them alone with Steve's car as the only witness to Steve pulling Eddie into a heated kiss.

At first Eddie is too shocked by the firm lips pressing against his to react. Steve's hands are fisted in his shirt and his mouth moves insistently against Eddie's, coaxing him to join their dance, and Eddie wonders if he's dreaming again. Because the last time Steve had kissed him like this, hungry, wanton, perfect, Eddie had woken up hard and lonely, with thoughts of his unattainably gorgeous neighbor.

A sharp nip to his lower lip convinces him that this is real, because it stings, in the best way, and Eddie's breath catches. His eyes open — when did he even close them? — to find Steve looking back at him, the lovely hazel of his eyes almost entirely consumed by the black of his dilated pupils. He licks Eddie's lower lips apologetically, soothing the sting his teeth have caused, before leaning back and watching him intently.

Eddie blinks at him, still processing but already missing Steve's lips on his. "Wha- I mean, why- uh, y'know —" He stumbles over the half-formed words in his head, searching for the right ones, preferably in the right order, but he's never been an overachiever, so he settles for the next best thing. "You kissed me."

Steve snorts. "What if I did?" he asks, looking up at Eddie from under his lashes, and he shouldn't be able to pull this off, they're the same height, but somehow he does. Eddie briefly wonders if his neighbor was designed by the government to eliminate their enemies by rendering them useless with lust. If so, he thinks it definitely works.

"Why? I mean..." Eddie trails off, thinks for a moment before he shrugs, "Yeah, no, I wanna know why."

"Well," Steve begins, suddenly sounding shy, even though the words that follow are anything but. "I noticed you couldn't keep your eyes off me today. In fact, I think you haven't been able to keep your eyes off me for a while now, huh?" His eyelashes flutter and it should look ridiculous, Steve is not one of Chrissy's girlfriends who often come over and flirt with Eddie like they can't believe he's gay and really not interested, batting their long eyelashes and curling their manicured petite hands around his arm.

No, Steve's face is all angles, strong jaw, broad face, prominent nose. His hands aren't petite, they're big and strong. So when he acts all shy, it should look silly, but when he puts his hand on Eddie's chest and bites his lips, Eddie's heart starts racing underneath. "But you never made a move, you just... kept looking. Which is fine, I mean, I like to be looked at, but a guy does have his limits, y'know. Had to take matters into my own hands, just to see if I was imagining things."

It took Eddie three tries to graduate high school, but he’s not dumb. He could basically hear the puzzle pieces fall into place in his head, but his voice is still full of disbelief when he asks, “You- you put on a show? For me?”

Steve snorts again. "Yeah, dude. I could just go to a car wash and get this beauty cleaned up in no time. It's just so much more fun to watch you get hard for me." His hand on Eddie's chest slides down, stopping just short of where Eddie wants it so badly, and he feels the remaining blood leave his brain at a rapid pace. "So what do you say?"

Eddie gulps, his mouth running before his brain can give any input, "You're not afraid of staining your sweetheart?"

Steve just shrugs and flashes Eddie a wolfish grin. "Well, I guess I could just wash it again then. Maybe lick it off. You wouldn't mind watching that, would you?"

And that's it, the thing that makes Eddie snap. He throws an arm around Steve's waist, pulls him close to his chest and grabs his ass with the other to lift him off the ground to lay him down on the hood of his car. "Stay," he almost growls, the hunger in his veins turning to greed as he leans back to take in the sight of Steve all laid out for him.

His hair is fanned out around his head like a halo, the vast expanse of sun-kissed skin ready to be marked and devoured. Eddie can see how turned on Steve already is; the surprise manhandling only adding fuel to the fire between them. His stiff nipples are visible through the now soaked white top, the red flush of arousal staining his chest and throat, and his chest is heaving with his ragged breathing. Eddie sees his hard dick straining against the wet material of his denim shorts and he thinks it must hurt to have the sensitive head rubbing against the stiff material with the way Steve’s hips keep squirming, mindlessly grinding his ass against the heated metal. Eddie wants to ruin him.

Steve seems to be on the same page because he spreads his legs wider and wraps them around Eddie's waist to pull him closer, ignoring Eddie's earlier order. Eddie comes tumbling forward, catching himself with his hands on either side of Steve's head and Steve pulls him down in another kiss, this one even more heated than the first. Steve licks into Eddie's mouth like he owns it and Eddie's head is already spinning from how fast they're going. It feels like the last three weeks have been one long foreplay and they can't wait a second longer. So when Steve starts sucking Eddie's tongue into his mouth, Eddie's arms give way and he crashes down on Steve, never stopping their kissing or the constant grinding of their hips against each other.

Not wasting another second, Steve takes advantage of their new position to get his hands under Eddie's shirt, nails scratching along his back. They're practically dry humping on the shiny hood of a BMW. Eddie's younger, non-conformist, capitalism-hating self would roll his eyes before applauding him for getting down and dirty with the hottest guy he's ever laid eyes on. He begins to put more force into the roll of his hips, pressing Steve harder against the metal beneath him, and Steve wrenches their mouths apart with a loud, drawn out moan.

He starts tugging at Eddie's shirt, grumbling, "Off. Get it off," against Eddie's mouth, and Eddie complies, leaning back just enough to pull his shirt over his head before coming back down to capture Steve's mouth in another kiss. The wet material of Steve's top is nice against Eddie’s heated skin, but he wants to feel Steve, only Steve, so he slips his hand beneath him and pulls him into a sitting position.

His hands make their way to Steve's waist to slip under his top, his fingertips touching Steve's stomach and Eddie feels the muscles flutter against them. He presses his hands down harder and begins to slide them up Steve's body, his eyes drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin. There are more moles underneath and Eddie thinks Steve should be shirtless all the time so he can trace them with his fingers or his tongue whenever he wants. Steve giggles when Eddie's hands reach his rips and it's an unexpectedly delightful sound. Ticklish, Eddie notes on his mental list of things he knows about his neighbor. Cute is already there, so he doesn't have to add that one.

"Lift your arms for me, sweetheart," Eddie rasps, his voice already affected by the little they've done so far. Steve obeys easily, pleased to get what he wants, and Eddie has to kiss him. Just a quick press of lips, there and gone.

The gasp that comes from Steve's mouth is music to Eddie's ears as he slides his hands further up, his thumbs grazing Steve's nipples along the way. Steve is so responsive, so obvious and giving with his desire, and if that isn't the hottest thing ever, Eddie doesn't know what is.

He stops the upward slide of his hands at Steve's wrist and twists the material of his shirt around them, effectively tying them together, before placing his hand on the thick patch of dark hair on Steve's chest and pushing him back down onto the hood. Steve looks at Eddie with a dazed look in his eyes, his arms resting on the windshield above his head.

"What —" is all he manages to say, his former cockiness gone for the moment.

Eddie takes his time to look at the beautiful man laid out in front of him. Steve hasn't moved his hands, silent surrender in every line of his body. He's perfect. Steve is perfect.

"You're perfect," Eddie purrs. "Putting on such a hot show, just for me. So let me enjoy what you're offering, yeah?"

With that, Eddie leans down again and bites Steve's jaw, just below his ear. It's such an unexpected move that Steve gasps loudly, his hips shooting up as if Eddie had electrocuted him. He licks the bite mark soothingly before scraping his teeth down the column of Steve's throat to his collarbone, sucking the thin skin just above the bone into his mouth and worrying it between his teeth. As much as Steve tries to hold still and let Eddie explore his body, the need for friction seems to become too much, because Eddie feels the hard, thick line of his cock rubbing against his own crotch in incremental thrusts.

"Eddie, please, please, please," Steve begs, and Eddie thinks he doesn't even know what for. It's intoxicating, almost addictive, and he hopes this won't be the last time he gets high on Steve.

"So impatient," Eddie chides him, biting the firm flesh of his pec in warning.

Steve squirms under him but still manages to sound defiant as he says, "Oh fuck you, been waiting weeks to get your hands on me, I deserve a reward for my —" his words are cut short by a low fuck as Eddie sucks his nipple into his mouth and lets his tongue play with it.

"You deserve a reward for your fuck? I dunno, Stevie. We'll have to see, won't we?" Eddie smirks up at Steve, his chin digging into the nipple he just abused with his mouth.

"How about you get a move on so I can show you?"

Eddie resumes working his mouth down Steve's torso, biting and licking his chest, tracing the constellation of moles and freckles with his tongue, memorizing Steve's body by taste and smell alone. When he pulls his lower body away from Steve's to get a better angle, Steve whines at the loss and Eddie takes pity on him, offering his chest for Steve's dick to rub against instead. The hot flesh feels big, even through the jeans, a thick length that Eddie can't wait to get his mouth on.

"You can't wait to get my mouth on you, huh, big boy?"

Not waiting for an answer, Eddie slides further down and dips his tongue into Steve's navel, relishing the sounds that fall from Steve's mouth. It's like Steve can't keep them in, his body forced to be still, so he has to use his voice to let some of the overflowing feelings out of his body. Eddie decides to test how much longer Steve can keep his hands to himself.

His tongue leaves Steve's belly button and follows the tantalizing trail of dark hair down to the waistband of his shorts. He sucks the tender flesh into his mouth as well, leaving another mark. Looking up at Steve's torso, Eddie thinks he may have gone a bit overboard, because his skin is covered in bruises and bite marks, and something tells him that Steve is going to bitch about it later. For now, they both seem to be enjoying Eddie's more possessive side.

While his mouth is still busy sucking on Steve's skin, his hands begin to work on undoing his pants. The button is a bitch, the wetness makes it hard to move the material enough to pop the button free, but once that's done, he gets to hear the satisfying sound of the zipper going down. Next, his hands hook into the waist and slide the shorts off Steve's long, muscular legs, the material clinging to him and Eddie can't even blame it. They are gorgeous legs and Eddie would never want to be parted from them either, wants to have them around him all the time.

When he's finally pulled them all the way off, Eddie has to pause for a moment to take in the sight before him. He's almost dizzy with want, but frozen in place because there are so many things he wants to do to Steve right now, it's overwhelming. Steve lies there, miles and miles of golden skin, Eddie's marks like new stars born into existing constellations, adding to the sheer beauty of him.

Steve's hands are still above his head, the muscles in his arms bunching with his restraint to keep them there, his broad swimmer's back pushing his torso up in an arch that even Michelangelo could not have done justice. It tapers into a sturdy waist, his hipbones framing his dark crotch hair like a canvas. The thick thighs underneath quiver at the unnatural angle and Eddie wants to wrap them back around him. And he will, any second now. As soon as he is done burning all of this into his memory.

"Take a picture, it would last longer," Steve snarks, and Eddie is honestly impressed by the attitude. Apparently Steve Harrington is a little bitch, even with his cock dripping pre-cum and his hips writhing.

He does have a point though — it would. So Eddie pulls out his phone and snaps a picture.

"That better go in a private folder," Steve bitches, an embarrassed blush rising to his cheeks, but Eddie can tell he's turned on, too, by the way more pre-cum drips down on his stomach. Interesting.

"Top of the spank bank, baby," Eddie promises as he drops to his knees in front of Steve.

He takes a second to slide his phone away to keep it safe before focusing all his attention on the cock right in front of him, mouth already flooded with saliva. Placing both of his hands on Steve's hips to hold him in place, he mouths up the hard length, starting at the base, all the way up to the leaking head. With his hands busy he has to use his tongue to lift Steve’s dick from where it's resting against his taut stomach to get it all the way into his mouth.

Eddie doesn't waste another second, sliding down and taking Steve into his throat.

Steve shoots up, his upper body lifting off the metal into a sitting position in one swift motion, his hands sliding out of their confines to bury themselves in Eddie’s hair.

Fuck, if that wasn't the hottest thing Eddie had ever seen. Hot enough that he decides he's done playing for now.

So instead of pulling off and putting Steve back in his place, he just increases his efforts, bobbing his head and making sure to swallow and moan around Steve whenever he hits his fluttering throat. It's uncomfortable with how big Steve is, almost painful, and Eddie loves every second of it. It makes him feel alive, powerful with how he can take Steve apart with just his mouth. There's something so rewarding about choking on a dick, pleasure that hits in a different way.

It's with regret that he pulls off after a few more minutes of indulging himself with the pleasure of Steve's weight on his tongue and the thickness filling his throat. But he has plans; wants to have Steve as addicted as Eddie already is. He needs him to come back for more, because now that he has had a taste, Eddie is not sure he can go back to being just neighbors waving hello to each other.

He kisses the spit-slick flesh down to Steve's balls, full with his need to come, sucks one into his mouth and rolls it around before doing the same to the other.

"You're a fucking - ah - fucking tease, anyone ever tell you that?"

Eddie drops the heavy sack from his mouth and bites into the tender flesh of Steve's inner thigh, earning himself a yelp and a hard yank of his hair from Steve's hands.

"They're usually not coherent enough for that. Looks like I'll have to work harder on you." To make his point, he pushes Steve back into a lying position. "Now hold still and let me ruin you, okay?"

"Fuck. You're going to be the death of me."

Right back at you, Eddie thinks. "But what a way to go."

With that, he slides his hands down the inside of Steve's thighs to his knees, spreading them wider and using the leverage to pull Steve closer to the edge of the hood. That way Eddie's face is exactly where he wants it — level with Steve's rim. He'd planned to give it the same devouring attention as his dick, using his tongue and lips until Steve was a quivering mess above him. Then he would have added his fingers, stretching him on them, fingering him until he came without anything else.

It's a good plan. A great plan even. What isn't part of the plan, though, is the sight of something already spearing Steve open.

"Jesus Christ," Eddie breathes out as he sees the base of a black plug in Steve's ass, his eyes wide in disbelief. If being here in Steve's garage, ready to fuck each other senseless, feels like a fever dream, then this is like being dropped into a porn version of the Twilight Zone.

His eyes are glued to Steve's rim clutching a fucking buttplug, but he doesn't need to see it to hear the smirk in Steve's smug voice. "Cat got your tongue?"

That snaps Eddie out of his stupor and he looks up at Steve, who's leaning on his forearms, actually smirking down at him. "No, but there's a big ass plug where my tongue should be."

The picture Eddie just painted seems to hit Steve exactly where Eddie wanted it to, as he sees him squirm, nudging his ass closer to Eddie's face, wonderfully unashamed in his need. "So do something about it."

Eddie slowly moves his hand up Steve's leg again, letting it follow the same path as before, starting at the knee and working up the inside thigh to the crease of his groin until his thumb can trace the outer edge of the plug. The skin still has traces of lube on it and Eddie smears it around the rim, wedging the tip of his thumb between the silicone and muscle, causing Steve to hiss under his breath.

Eddie watches his finger circle the plug in amazement, consumed by the overwhelmingly hot idea of Steve prepping himself, maybe even bending over the car in his garage, one hand on the hood while the other works in the plug, his dick hanging heavy and neglected between his legs. Let him be smug, Eddie thinks, he deserves it,. Because Steve Harrington just keeps on blowing his goddamn mind.

Still, he has to poke the bear a little, because the cocky, confident side of Steve is really, really working for him.

"Were you really this confident that washing your car would get me in here?"

"If it didn't work, it still made washing it a hell of a lot more exciting," Steve counters, and doesn't that add fuel to the fire that's burning in his veins.

Eddie has no trouble imagining the way the plug would move inside Steve; its heavy weight pulling at his rim, so Steve would have to clench his hole to hold it in place. Steve’s mind would be constantly aware of it, all his senses focused on the thickness inside of him, every little movement igniting sparks of arousal. Eddie can imagine Steve moving just enough to push it against his prostate, his muscles working to suck it in deeper, tightening around it so the pressure against his inner walls would be even more intense.

Eddie is pulled out of the fantasy he's lost in when Steve tells him, "Lube and condoms are on the bench over there," nodding toward the workbench where, among tools and equipment, Eddie sees a bottle of lube and some shiny packages of condoms. He has no idea how he missed them earlier and can only blame the siren call of Steve's body.

Eddie presses a final kiss to Steve's thigh, just above where he bit earlier, and wastes no time getting up and grabbing the things he needs. Before making his way back to where Steve is waiting impatiently with hooded eyes, Eddie makes quick work of taking off his own pants and boxers. Steve's eyes turn even darker at the sight of Eddie's hard dick and Eddie can't help but give it a few tugs, putting on his own show just for Steve.

"If you don't get your ass over here in the next five seconds, I'm doing this without you," Steve almost growls, his hand already moving between his legs.

Eddie is over there in three long strides, slapping Steve's hand away and wrapping his own around Steve's dick. "Uh uh, sweetheart. That's mine today."

He puts the lube and a condom on the hood of the car next to Steve with his other hand and pulls Steve in for another open-mouthed kiss. But as Steve grows impatient, his legs wrap around Eddie's waist again, tight enough to pull him in and urge him to get on with it.

But instead of giving Steve what he wants, Eddie decides to stick to his original plan, adding the plug to torture Steve even more. He grabs Steve's knees to entangle himself from their demanding pull, and drops to his knees again. Who says he can't put his mouth on Steve with the plug still inside him?

So he does just that, bringing his mouth to Steve's rim and licking a wide strip across it before letting his tongue trace the edge of the plug. As he nudges the tip of his tongue under the edge and inside, Steve gasps as he presses his ass more firmly against Eddie's face. It's hard to smirk when your face is buried in someone's ass, but Eddie manages it anyway. Two can play this game.

Eddie brings his fingers into the mix next. He grips the plug and tugs on it, just a little, just enough to watch Steve's rim cling to it as it slowly slides an inch or two out of his ass. "Look at you, so desperate to be full, your ass gripping that plug so tight. I can't wait until it's my dick you're gripping."

Steve squirms at his words, his hips now moving relentlessly, seeking the pleasure Eddie has so far denied him.

"More. Fuck, Eddie. I need more. Come on."

And Eddie gives him more, sort of, pushing the plug back in before tugging again, this time pulling it out even further, twisting it back and forth as it slides out of Steve, glistening with lube. As he pushes it back in, his finger joins, worming its way in as well. It’s a snug fit, the pressure against his finger intense. He slides the plug and his finger in and out a few more times before finally pulling it free, going deliberately slow and reveling in the whine that leaves Steve's lips as he does so.

The plug is dropped on top of Steve's discarded shorts before he dives right back in, fastening his mouth to Steve's empty, twitching hole and pushing his tongue deep inside. Steve yelps in obvious surprise, but it soon turns into a loud, shameless moan.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," he curses, his hips undulating against Eddie's face, "you don't - hnng, yes there, fuck - have t- that's what the plug was for," Steve complains, but there is no heat in it. Or believability. Not with the way he tries to sit up and shove Eddie away, only to clench his hands in Eddie's hair, pulling his face even tighter against his grinding hips as he leans back down. Steve is greedy in his lust and Eddie has never been more turned on in his life.

Eddie keeps eating Steve out like he’s his favorite meal. The thighs clamped tightly around his head tremble and Steve sounds like he's almost crying, his voice reedy as he begs Eddie to just fuck him already. And as much as he loves reducing Steve to this wanton, needy mess, Eddie's dick is so hard it's bordering on painful.

Still, before he plunges into the tight heat that’s waiting for him, Eddie wants to make sure the plug has done its proper job first, so he coats his fingers with lube and rubs them together to warm it up. He sinks two fingers in at once, watching Steve's face intently as they slide in with ease to the last knuckle. There's no sign of discomfort, just a fucked out expression looking back at him. The third he adds is met with a little more resistance, a tiny wrinkle between Steve's eyebrows telling him it stings, but Eddie still thinks it will be fine if he goes slow. At least as slow as their desire-drunk bodies will allow.

As if reading his mind, Steve looks him in the eye and says, "I'm not made of glass, Eddie." It's not bitchy like Eddie expected, but almost soft, reassuring.

He curls his fingers inside Steve one last time, drinking in the whimper Steve can't seem to hold back, before pressing a kiss to the tip of Steve's dick. "Okay, okay, I got you."

Eddie reaches for the condom, tearing the wrapper open with his teeth (Steve's not the only one who likes to put on a show, okay) and puts it on his dick before generously coating it with more lube. It's cold on his overheated flesh, sending a shiver down his spine, but he figures it'll soon warm up once he's inside Steve.

Placing one hand next to Steve's head, he uses the other to line himself up. As he nudges against Steve's entrance, Eddie leans forward to catch Steve's lips in another kiss, sliding his tongue into Steve's mouth at the same time his head breaches Steve's rim. He swallows the gasp from Steve's mouth and pushes forward, sinking deeper and deeper into the tight clutch of Steve's ass.

They both have to catch their breath when Eddie finally bottoms out, Eddie's forehead resting against Steve's, the moment unexpectedly tender.

"Good?"

"Perfect," Steve murmurs, his eyes closing in pleasure as Eddie slowly draws back to thrust again. He's quieter now that Eddie's finally fucking him, little gasps and breathless ah ah ahs escaping him as Eddie's hips pick up speed. Eddie's so close, but he wants Steve to come first, had planned to make that happen without a hand on Steve's dick, only it looks like that won't happen before Eddie loses it himself. But as he reaches down between them to take Steve in his hand, Steve's own hand catches his, lacing their fingers together and placing their hands next to his head.

"So close, don't - don't need it, just keep going, keep going."

Without both hands to hold himself up, Eddie sinks down onto Steve, and Steve squeezes his hand as Eddie fucks into him. He's not prepared for the way this simple, sweet gesture shoots through him, his orgasm taking him completely by surprise.

"Fuck, no- oh, fuck," he moans, his pleasure too intense for words as he spills into the condom, his hips still working as aftershocks run through him.

Eddie buries his face in Steve's neck, his body still twitching but his mind starting to race. He fucked up. He had a plan and he blew it, coming too soon like a teenager just because his crush was holding his hand. Steve went out of his way to get them here, prepped himself, plugged himself, washed his car in the most indecent outfit he could find - washed his car.

Eddie remembers Steve talking about licking his cum off his car and he's struck with an idea.

He gingerly pulls out, all the while kissing Steve to distract him from the sting (and to apologize for seemingly leaving him hanging). As soon as his softening dick slips free, he stands up again, pulling Steve upright with their hands still clasped and an arm around his waist. Steve stumbles against him, catching himself with a hand on Eddie's chest. "What —"

"Oh, we're not done, sweetheart," Eddie purrs, turning Steve over so that Steve's back is to him.

He thrusts three fingers back inside Steve without warning, his other arm still wrapped around Steve's waist to keep him pressed against Eddie. His hand reaches down to grab Steve in a firm grip, spreading the copious amount of pre-cum that has pooled on the head with his thumb before he begins to slowly pump Steve. It's probably too dry, but the wounded sounds Steve makes are only one third pain and two parts pleasure, so he doesn’t stop.

Eddie's fingers fuck Steve relentlessly from behind, pumping in and out, prodding along his walls until he finds that one spot that makes Steve whimper and hump Eddie's hand. Once he’s found it, Eddie keeps his fingers there, massaging the spot until Steve comes with a hoarse scream all over his precious car.

Eddie keeps going until the sounds Steve keeps making become pitiful, the overstimulation obviously turning painful. Only then does he pull his fingers out of Steve and lets go of his dick.

Steve turns around in his arms, his weight sagging against Eddie, who happily holds him against his chest and kisses him.

They're both sticky with cum and lube and sweat but they couldn't care less about it right now. It's a sweet kiss, the softness a stark contrast to what they just did, and Eddie can't get enough. Every time one of them starts to pull away, the other follows for another kiss. It is only when Eddie feels that they are both beginning to shiver that he stops Steve from following him again with a hand that cups his cheek.

"We should get cleaned up."

"Hmmmm," Steve agrees, "we should." But he doesn't make a move to do so, just presses himself closer to Eddie. It's adorable, and Eddie can't help but kiss him on the nose for it.

"Come on, Steve. Let's go inside and clean up. Put on some dry clothes and —"

"Fuck again."

"Jesus Christ."

"Nah, you can call me Steve." Steve winks at him and Eddie wants to reaffirm his earlier thought. His neighbor is going to be the death of him. "And don't worry, we can work on your stamina next time," Steve adds, a mischievous twinkle in his hazel eyes.

Eddie can't wait.

________________________________________________________

A heartfelt shout-out and thank you to my two favorite enablers, @legitcookie and @yournowheregirl for their endless support and cheerleading. This story wouldn't be what it is without you. You're the best 💜