I am writing a master's thesis on the significance of fanfiction (culturally and socially) and the potential for the use in an academic setting (specifically the collaboration/feedback qualities of fanfiction communities like Ao3 and, to an extent, Tumblr).
I NEED WRITERS TO INTERVIEW! I have four or five questions pertaining to your experiences as a fic writer and your opinion on using fan works/activities in a classroom environment.
If you're interested in helping, you can comment here or email me at [email protected]
(Please pardon my tagging you if you are not interested in this. I just went off my Ao3 bookmarks and Tumblr saves. <3 )
I absolutely love your writing and your fics! I could read your work forever I can’t believe I’m you’re out here giving us these masterpieces for FREE 🫡😩
Thank you darling!
I could say the very same to you!
If I could charge for someone else's characters legally I would hahaha
Will you ever write another chapter of choking on sapphires?
Yes, actually. I want to finish the "second book" which is 1, maybe 2 chapters left. I have most of the next chapter written already, just haven't been able to finish it.
This is truly one of my favorite Steve scenes. I think it's the one time we see Steve as he really is or really wants to be. Adorably lame, totally in love with love, fun loving, not worried about anything superficial, genuine smiles ... Gahhhhhhh
I was tagged in a tag game - but my memory is garbage and I'm not good at tagging and it makes me nervous bc I don't want to upset anyone by forgetting them when it's not personal.
But here's the last bit that I wrote - (From my Kas!Eddie WIP)
“Eddie you’re…here.” you whispered dumbly but it’s all your brain can form, it’s like a fog has started growing thick and unmovable in your head. You heard his voice but couldn’t make out the words. Your eyes roll back and you faint in his grip. He easily maneuvers you against his far too strong, sinewy body. He supports your limp body, looking down at your face as peaceful as he's ever seen it.
“This is probably for the best.” a heavy, forlorn sigh rises his chest before lifting your feet from the floor to cradle your body against him. He turns, silhouetted with broad shoulders in the doorway by the flashing emergency light against the bloody glow of the aftermath of what he’d done to get back to you.
I don't normally post poetry or anything not fan fic on here but I wrote this, and there's a local poetry reading next month and I wanted to "read" it here first to test it out. It might translate better to spoken word due to the word play?
Left Handed
I had the inclination to write with my left hand as a child.
But the teachers corrected me.
Told Me it was wrong.
They made me write with my right.
I learned my writing wasn’t the only thing left about me.
I carried this questioning of my natural inclinations my whole childhood.
And I’ve spent the rest of my life trying to be left again.
Because what they really told me was that I don’t have the right.
The right to-
be like this.
To feel this way.
To act how I do.
I’ve spent my whole life unlearning the right way.
A/N: this is a short little chapter. the next one will be longer— thank you for hanging onto this story even though it took me forever to get it started. I have most of the next chapter done so it’ll probably be posted next week.
The blue and red lights are blinking in rapid succession. Painting the curtains in washes of ruby and royal.
The sirens should have been loud but Eddie figured it was the blood trickling down his head and into his ear canal that was preventing him from hearing clearly.
He fought with the first responders.
Fought with the people fussing over him and trying to rush him into an ambulance.
He refused to leave you.
He didn’t need to be cared for.
He didn’t care about anything.
Only you.
Mr. Derry’s loud knock and burst through the door was the exact distraction needed for Eddie to grip the bat in his bloody hand.
Rings squeezing tight around blood and the wooden handle, he swung hard. A suddenly athlete in a smokers body. He felt the thuds and friction vibrating in his forearms when the nailed head connected with flesh. But he didn’t stop until there were two crumpled bodies collapsed on the red stained carpet.
And when the ambulance crew met him at the door, gurney ready, you were wrapped tight in his arms. A faint pulse echoed like a whisper against your skin. Eddie’s tears streaming down his face and onto yours.
His promise pressed delicately to your lips.
—
“What have we got?”
“According to the patient’s friend, she is twenty-one-year, sir! you need to be looked at, and lived by herself for the past few months..”
I’m fine! Jesus— get off me and help her!
“…call came in at 2208 from a Mr. William Derry— the neighbor— claiming there were screams coming from across the street of his residence on Cherry Lane. Dispatch didn’t think to respond right away due to the many calls Mr. Derry has submitted to the Police Department.”
“Sir, I am not telling you again, you need to be checked out!”
“Jesus Christ.”
“When nobody showed up, the neighbor went across the street after hearing more screaming. Patient was held up by her throat by the DOA”
“Bill has him in truck 011, ID found on the body confirmed he was Chad Cunningham.”
—-
Eddie is standing before you, looking the same has he did the morning g after Halloween. It’s similar but different. There’s more light in the kitchen, and he is rosy cheeked like a cherub, his movements almost floating like angel wings as he moves the carton of orange juice hp to his lips, small glints of a silver nipple ring peaking out from the cutoff shirt he wore.
When he speaks, it’s like a harp is playing, all song and beautiful notes, extending and echoing around the room.
“So when do I get this trophy sweetheart?” He says with a grin, “thinking of putting on a shelf in my room,”
Your laugh feels like butterflies tickling your stomach, “you can’t be serious.”
His head dips as he walks towards you, smile displaying the prettiest teeth, “damn straight, want the whole town to know I had the best costume!”
“Stolen costume,”
“Pppffft, I just borrowed it.” the wink he delivers is almost sinful, toothachingly sweet enough to give a dentist a cavity, and you melt on the spot.
—
“Miss? Can you tell us your name? Can you tell us anything?”
Sterile.
Chemical.
You were either in a hospital or a morgue. You didn’t feel any pain so it very likely could be the worst of the two options. Whatever you were laying on was cold. And when you tried to move you found you couldn’t.
Is this death?
Eyelids heavy and unable to cooperate and make the connection with your brain on flicking open so you could see what was happening.
The only thing constant was a buzzing in both ears. A tug along your eyelids and rubber glove fingers on your body. But you were trapped in your mind, unable to speak, to scream, to show any physical movements other than the involuntary rise and fall of your chest and your lungs being filled with oxygen, fed through flexible plastic of the oxygen mask placed on your face.
Oblivious to your surroundings.
“Severe trauma to both eyes, laceration to the back of the head, severe swelling and possible damage to the larynx, Katerina, what did the CT show?”
“CT came back clear, X-Ray showed a break to both zygomatic bones, 5th and 6th ribs and a lacerated spleen…”
“Look at her nails, poor thing fought for her life,”
“they both did.”
You found the will to whisper what you needed to tell them. Voice hoarse and barely audible, removing the mask they look in horror back at your words, and immediately the feeling of warm liquid entering your veins and the blur of sleep covers your body.
—
He visits you again, this time you know it’s a dream. The pink clouds flow behind his head even though you are standing in the living room. But it’s different, blurred on the edges, hazy sweet and refined. How heaven could be described.
“I look good in this don’t even lie,” Eddie says with a spin, the white cotton of your robe resembling a mini skirt on his long legs, “but if you want me to take it off all you have to do is ask, I’m a pleaser, baby.”
He was every version of himself, handsome, gross and menacing. Sweet and caring, eye twinkling, soft voiced: Eddie. The beer taped to his hand like it was all those months ago when you splashed him awake, threatening to kick him out.
Delivering his classic one liners that you now knew helped fuel your love for him.
“What? Hair of the dog baby, gotta keep drinking to avoid a hangover.”
And maybe your love for him was always there.
Showing up in the background, fluttering bird wings of your heart before you even noticed.
Developing into something sweeter, deeper, so heartbreakingly sick it took a disaster and almost the last pulse in your veins for you to be able to admit it.
-
Steve had been pacing the cream colored tiles for over thirty minutes. The squeak of his Nikes against the floor were something Eddie was trying hard to focus on instead of worrying about you in the ICU, but so far it wasn’t working.
The nasal cannula was annoying, he could breathe fine on his own. The stitches in his eyebrow itched and stung with each weave through his skin, pulled taut around the swelling in his face.
The shot the nurses had administered to calm him down after screaming and trying to fight his way to you, was making his mind fuzzy— still, Steve’s pacing kept him company. Step step step squeak, step step step hand in hair, followed by an agitated huffing breath.
A nurse with a long blond ponytail braided down her back opens the polyester curtain with a drag and slips inside the room. A black rubber and steel stethoscope around her neck, before she could introduce herself Steve exploded with fury.
“Tell me what the hell is going on in this poor excuse for a hospital, right now!” Steve’s hair shook from its feathered position when he spoke, his demanding voice booming across the tiles.
Without missing a beat and clearly dealing with high strung men before she said almost monotonously, “Sir, you need to calm yourself down, this is a h-”
But Steve’s fire was only fueled by her dismissive tone, his voice never wavering, “No, I will not calm down! The police were made aware of this situation a year ago and nothing was ever done!”
The police officer standing outside guarding entry to the room tipped his head in slow, “Mr. Harrington, we hear your complaints but there isn’t anything we can—”
“Bullshit!” A tear stain cheeked Robin sobbed, her face red and blotchy from hours of crying and rubbing her freckles clean, “Eddie told you what happened yet he’s still cuffed to a bed like a fucking criminal!”
She broke down again, clinging to Steve’s side like a wounded child, sobbing into the soft cotton of his crewneck sweater. “This is unethical! Unco—”
“Alright that’s enough hot shot,” Hopper shouts in finality towards Steve, a wrinkle burrowed deep in his forehead accompanied with graying thick eyebrows set in a devastating frown.
“Chief,” Wayne interjects, cap wringing in his calloused, wrinkle bared hands, his voice wobbly but steady, runny nose and wet tears cling to his scruffy beard, “my son was protectin’ that girl, you know Eddie…he’d never hurt someone unless his life or someone he cared about was in danger.”
Hopper tore his gaze from the one of the richest in the room to the poorest, hanging his head with sorrow, “ ‘m sorry, Wayne— but until Mr. Derry’s statement comes back and Eddie is cleared… the cuffs stay.”
Wayne hung his head low, the few wiry hairs on his balding head stuck in all sorts of directions despite his attempt at raking them into submission.
“Jim Hopper you should be ashamed of yourself,” Karen Wheeler spoke up now, head held high, claw clip teetering with each gesturing movement of her head, “you know good and well this boy couldn’t have done that to her! They loved each other!”
Since the pacing of Steve’s feet had stopped Eddie’s heart rattled hard in his chest, he clawed at the heart monitors on his chest, tried to bite the IV’s from his arms, caged like a wild animal he let out a broken cry, “ple— please, she needs me.”
“Mr. Munson,” the nurse with blonde hair replies sternly, “she is in critical condition, we don’t know if or when she will be able to to recover, she is heavily sedated and needs rest, her only visitors will be family at this time.”
“Speaking of,” another nurse chirps, young and fresh gilled, entirely too eager to please her superior, “do you know how to get a hold of her family?”
He shakes his head slow, causing a pounding headache, “I am her family,” Eddie grunts through clenched teeth, pushing himself up on the bed as far as his cuffs would allow, Steve’s hand on his shoulder. “Look around this room! Ted and Karen Wheeler, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Nancy Byers.. we are all she has,” a single tear falls down his bruised cheek, liquid salt in the cut in his top lip.
“Okay sir.. who is responsible for her?”
“In regards to what? Financially? You money hungry pricks just don’t let up so you?,” Ted Wheeler finally speaks behind his wife, shock and anger evident on his wrinkled features.
“Not exactly…”
“Whatever it is, I will handle it, alright?” Eddie interjects, annoyed with the questions, worried only about you, “I’m responsible for her.”
“Oh,” the nurse says, perking up slightly, marking a red check mark on her clipboard, smoothing out her uniform, “so you are aware of her condition then.”
Light bulbs click for everyone in the room but the curly brown haired metal head.
Oh my God
…Tooty
Holy shit.
“That she got the shit kicked out of her by that fucking psycho Chad Cunningham?”
Eddie.
Ma’am can we talk privately in the hall?
“…obviously I’m aware! I was there when it happened! That dumb fuck already took my statement!” he said gesturing to Deputy Wallace.
“No, Mr. Munson..”
This isn’t the time for this! Wayne tried to warn the nurse, but it fell on deaf, naive ears.
“…she’s right around twelve weeks pregnant.”
A pin dropping could have been heard from a mile away. The oxygen was sucked from the room. Karen’s hand was clapped around her mouth. Nancy and Robin choked back sobs.
Everyone was struck with horror, but not Eddie.
His mind playing that beautiful night between you like a movie in his head. The way your skin felt, the way his heart ached with fullness at your shared fervor and passion.
REWIND
PLAY
The curve of your lips on his skin, kissing him sweet and slow, no noise, just the love making swallowing you both whole.
REWIND
PLAY
PAUSE
Your soft snores as he counted the popcorn marks in the ceiling, his girl. His entire universe.
STOP
EJECT
The tears rolled like a ferocious river down his face, carving a path down his cheeks and under his wobbling chin, wetting the hospital gown he was forced into when he got here.
You were alone.
He didn’t know anything about pregnancy besides the woman usually got sick right? Every emotion that most men feel when finding out they were going to be a dad hit him all at once.
But not fear.
He imagined you with a big swollen belly, feet too pudgy to fit into shoes, he’d rub them with lotion until you could fall asleep.
He’d imagined his arms holding you from behind, your baby wrapped in his arms still in your womb. The relief you might feel from the weight being in his hands.
You were experiencing this pain all by yourself.
He couldn’t fathom how you were feeling. Scared. Hopeless? He had no idea. And the thought of you being alone had him nauseous.
Why didn’t you didn’t tell him?
Why didn’t anyone tell him?
His fury built and shook as his voiced boom with grief as he screamed at Steve, dark eyes blood shot and red rimmed.
“How could you,” he broke, struggling through the words, "why would you not tell me?!” The cuffs around his wrist broke skin as he tried to claw his way out of them, trying to reach at Steve’s shirt demanding to be heard.
“Ed— fuck man!” Steve started, mouth gaping at Eddie’s arms dripping with blood from his fresh wounds, “we didn’t know!”
Robin speaks now, trying to reach for Eddie’s hand to offer him some comfort, “She didn’t tell us, Eddie—Steve is right, she didn’t say a word to any of us about it.”
“Fuck!” Eddie screams, slamming his wrists into the bed sides, “I sh—should h-have..,” the end falls silent as his long legs were pulled to his chin and he buried his head into them.
In the minutes it had been since he found out, he was already a shitty fucking dad.
The pain of what happened to you and him not being able to stop it quick enough was killing him, and now, realizing that you were carrying his child and you were all alone?
There weren’t words for the gut wrenching feeling ripping through him. Overwhelming dread, chest tight with panic and pain. The nausea overtaking him. The vomit came fast, splashing allover himself and the bed, landing in thick puddles on Steve’s shoes. He cried harder and sobbed uncontrollably. When his stomach was empty he could only dry heave.
Wayne moved across the tiled floor in quick steps, careful not to slip in the wayward puke in his path. Sitting down hard and with purpose next to Eddie. This wasn’t his first rodeo of seeing Eddie in this turmoil. But never as a grown man.
He tried his hardest to hold back the tears he swore he’d never let fall in front of his boy, but gravity won the fight when Eddie pulled him into a bone crushing hug, his sobs snuffed by the canvas of his work jacket.
———
It was a full 12 hours before Mr. Derry’s statement was released. Tough old bird, he couldn’t be coerced even with the gentle threat from the Cunningham’s came down hard breathing down his neck.
Surely not their son? Their angel?
But the proof was there. An eye witness statement and a severely beaten woman, the record from years past and the statement from both Steve and Robin on what happened last year at your apartment, stood its ground.
Eddie was cleared as a free man, self defense in the eyes of the law. The second his cuffs were off he was throwing his boots onto his gripper socked feet, and untangling himself from wires and needles.
Steve and Wayne had both taken off work to help Eddie pick up his medication and make him go home and rest. When he tried to protest, Wayne gave Eddie a look that could pierce steel, the kind of look saying no bullshit, and begrudgingly he followed the men out to Steve’s Mercedes.
Nancy and Karen stayed behind at the hospital, filling your room with heavily perfumed flowers. Hushed whispers between the mother and daughter as they prayed and hoped that you would make it out of this horrific nightmare.
The doctors would only speak to Eddie. Letting him aware that your condition was improving but they would not be able to lift the sedation just yet. A day passed then another. Eddie slept in the hospital grade recliner in your room each night. Singing you sweet lulls of your favorite song. Promising you the world if you would just open your eyes.
He was weak himself. Fighting the urge to break down in front of anyone again with each hour that passed.
-
4 days led to 5 and the nurses and doctors whispered behind their clipboards. On the 6th day they decided to lift the sedation to see how your body would tolerate pain.
Eddie never left.
Machines beeped and ticked. Tubes and wires connecting from you drip with fluid and monitoring systems. The white walls and outdated curtains of the hospital shine a yellowed glow into your room, bringing with it a warmth to your cotton thread blanket and warming the skin on your arms. A welcomed feeling compared to the cold needles of the IV poking into your skin delivering flows of medicine and liquids to keep you hydrated and your pain manageable.
Foiled balloons printed with get well wishes bounce and sway with the kick on from the vent.
One of your hands is unexpectedly warmer than the other. A rough drag across the knobs of your knuckles is a familiar feeling, and you smell him before you even open your eyes to acknowledge that it’s him.
The clinging smell of cigarettes on a freshly washed shirt and the spice of deodorant force their way into your nose. It’s a different shampoo than the one you’re used to catching on him. More manly. All sandalwood and musk a hint of citrus. And at first you think he’s someone else… maybe Steve picked up smoking heavily again?
But when a tuned hum reverberates low against your hand followed by a pair of lips kissing gently around the IV and tape poked and laid against your skin, you know for certain it’s the man you’ve been dreaming about.
The one you cried for.
The one who visited your sleeping mind and told you everything was going to be okay.
His name falls from your lips like choked frozen honey, thick in your mouth and on a dry tongue.
It was the most beautiful noise he had ever heard.
I loved this. I love reading angsty hurt tragic romance moments. You upped the stakes. I look forward to every chapter of this. I check for updates. This is still such a favorite story of mine.
pairing: steve harrington x female reader
warnings and contents: 18+ ONLY, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, choking, slapping, breeding kink, housewife kink, dirty talk, implied that reader works in childcare of some sort???
author’s note: happy 4th, everyone!!! nothing is more american than giving steve harrington your body to use how he pleases 🫡
minors and blank blogs dni - do not repost - thank u
steve was sweet. loving, doting, careful and considerate. he knew when to reassure and how to do it well. he opened car doors, pulled out chairs, bought flowers just because. not a day went by where he didn’t let his lips linger just a second longer than what others would consider normal, purely because he wanted to let the touch express what words didn’t always seem to capture.
yes, steve was sweet. because he’d convinced himself that’s all he was allowed to be.
no room for error, no room for complaints. displeasure, anger, sadness, grief... it didn’t matter. shelf it and deal with it once it made him physically sick.
but she knew it was in there. this wild, wounded animal frothing at the mouth and hissing at each sound it heard beyond the corner it had holed up in. licking injuries that would never heal without seeing the light of day.
it slipped through in small doses. the slam of a cabinet door, fist clenched in his hair and up to his forehead after. his voice raising and falling into an apology just as quickly. agonizing pound of his cock right against her cervix on friday nights when most neighbors were out and the week had torn him to shreds. always with a still in his hips and ragged breaths before he settled himself further from her womb.
she just worried he’d hurt himself carrying on in such a way. and if letting it out could possibly benefit her, too... well, then everyone wins.
“i don’t bottle anything!” glancing at his girlfriend’s face, steve rolled his eyes. she was still sitting there with slightly raised eyebrows and a knowing lift to the corners of her lips. “look at me like that all you want, it’s not going to change anything. shit happens, i deal with it, i move on.”
“so you’re just that cool, huh? mr. cucumber?”
there was a set to his jaw while he swished his hand under the kitchen faucet to wash away remnants of suds. “put me in the freezer, and i’ll melt.”
“hm,” she hummed, couch groaning under her as she stood, causing him to glance over his shoulder to see her padding toward him. “even when you have to drive dustin to the arcade after a long day at the office?”
water dripped down from his fingertips where they gripped the counter, back still to her as she stepped onto the linoleum. “i don’t have to do anything.”
“no, no,” she smirked, “you just do that because you’re so nice. right?”
“right.”
“and when robin spilled beer all over your suit the other night, that didn’t bother you even a little?” she could see the dress shirt pulling tighter across his back, biceps straining against the cotton.
“it was an accident.”
“of course. so understanding.”
without facing her, he nodded, ripping the towel from off the handle of the oven before wiping his hands on it roughly. she watched him carefully put it back in its place, taking an extra second to make sure it was hanging evenly. once perfect, he cleared his throat and started pulling out the bag of coffee grinds from the cabinet. she could be nice, too. that’s why she waited until he was finished filling the machine for the morning before speaking up again.
“me leaving all my dishes in the sink even though i didn’t have to work and basically just sat around on my ass all day... no biggie?”
“had to wash out my thermos anyway,” he stated, “you packed me soup, remember?”
finally, he looked over at her, eyes sharp and lips thin. an ache welled in her core from the reaction. and partly because the mention of her packing his lunch for him just did something to her.
“and how was it?”
steve hesitated, shaking his head as a breathy laugh left him, almost as if he knew exactly what she would say to his answer.
“cold. i forgot you’d said there was soup in the box and put it in the fridge. microwave is busted, too.”
“really?” she drawled, trying to keep the amusement off her face. “that must’ve really put a damper on your day.”
“not at all.” he took a step toward her, smiling as he cupped both hands on her cheeks. “just knowing i was eating delicious food my girlfriend had made for me was enough to keep me warm.”
her expression fell flat, unamused and fighting against the ever-growing fondness for the boy before her. he pressed his lips to hers, humming in satisfaction as he pulled back. but she wouldn’t let him go, hand catching his forearm.
“steve,” she started, running soft fingertips down and around to his massive palm. “i’m just trying to... i don’t want you to think you have to be... always on with me.”
thick brows furrowed, steve’s eyes twinkling as he tilted his head like a puppy. “babe, i know that.” she seemed dissatisfied with his response, forcing him to squeeze her hand. “okay, what is this? why do i get the feeling you’re trying to tell me something without really telling me something?”
shoulders shrugging, she sighed, stepping forward to bump their chests together. “you can take it out on me.”
“what?”
“no more slamming cabinets and, like... stomping through the apartment huffing and puffing.” steve’s face soured. “use me. use my body-”
“jesus!” he spat, “i’m not gonna do that! i would never raise a hand to you.”
“no, no, steve, it’s not like that.” her mind raced for a way to try and make it make sense to him, get him to let that final rope snap within him. “i want it. i want you to… be rough. if you’ve had a hard day, or if you’re mad over something… everything you’ve gone through…”
steve stood frozen, thoughts spiraling and heart pounding. his slacks suddenly felt tight around his hips, and it terrified him. he could never, would never hurt her. no matter how fucked up his life had been. no matter how much it all bothered him despite his façade. but her pupils were big, eyes pleading beneath a film of embarrassment and concern.
“put your hands on me,” she breathed, “i can take it.”
testing the waters, he flipped his hand, taking hold of her wrist. she said nothing, giving only a sign in the quickening of her breathing. it felt... good, having her bones grind under the pressure of his grasp, watching the lust flood her features. but his instincts kicked in, and he was dropping his hold, beelining for the hall as she stood in confusion.
“i’m getting in the shower.”
~
it was dark in the living room when she got home on friday, not even a light in the kitchen on. which was weird, especially given she saw steve’s car parked in his spot when she pulled in. and he hadn’t mentioned anything to her about going out. maybe he’d had just as long a day as she did and was already in bed. the appeal of kicking off her shoes and joining him under their warm covers was strong, only overpowered by the rumble in her stomach.
the fridge was stocked with leftovers from throughout the week, bits and pieces from whole meals coming together to form another as she stood at the counter to pick at them. she sighed after finishing off the container of cold pasta, placing it in the sink with the others to get drowned in water. they could sit overnight, it was fine.
she’d just shut the faucet off and begun to turn around when she saw him.
“christ!” she gasped, “what are you auditioning for the next halloween movie?”
“you’re home late.”
it was all steve said, shoulder propped up against the wall and eyes fixed on the floor. he was still in his work clothes, sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, forearms tight across his chest.
going to put the towel back over the oven handle, she glanced at him, catching him watching her hands. “looks like i wasn’t too far behind you. overtime?”
“yeah. closing out that deal with chicago.”
she hummed, biting the inside of her cheek as she watched him silently pad across the floor to straighten the towel, gaze still not meeting hers. the pang in her chest started to grow, worry that she’d done something more offensive than hanging their dish towel slightly off kilter eating away the longer he stayed stoic.
the urge to ask him as much almost took over before he finally locked eyes with her, one hand pushing her softly into the counter, other settling against her cheek.
“you trust me?”
“what? of course, steve, what’s-”
slowly, he dragged his hand down and under her chin, thumb digging into one cheek, fingers in the other. he could see it in her eyes still, the uncertainty, worry. the question of if he was okay ready to drip off the tip of her tongue. and if she’d asked, he might’ve caved and finally said no. not today. not for a while. not beneath the surface. but she remained quiet, waiting for his next move, watching his mind turn over on itself like a film reel.
put your hands on me.
“you can take it?” he breathed, eyes gentle unlike his bruising grip.
all at once, she caught up, the pang in her chest fluttering its way down to her center. blinking slowly, she whispered, “yes.”
a weight fell off steve’s shoulders, hands on her tightening and then dropping away. “on the bed. strip first.”
it took everything in her to stay upright, knees buckling as she stepped around him and started for their bedroom, already pulling her sweater up and over her head. her panties got caught around her ankles, body tumbling onto their mattress with a quiet thud. finally pulling them off, she glanced toward the door, expecting steve to be right behind her, but the room and the hall beyond it were empty, leaving her to squirm in anticipation of footsteps.
time dragged on, the longer he took to follow, the more her heart started to race. pounding mixture of nerves and excitement thrumming through her veins, into each patch of skin that craved his touch. it was almost too much, her lips parting to call out for him just as he began to make his way to her.
“what can’t i do?” he rasped, stepping up to her legs where they hung over the foot of their bed, knees brushing.
“don’t worry about it. i’ll tell you if it’s too much.”
nodding, steve rubbed his hand over his chin. his two control centers were raging against one another, one processing the girl in front of him eagerly encouraging him to let loose, the other twisting at the thoughts, the images conjuring at the back of his brain. just beyond the darker, red-tinted ones that had him dragging across pavement and gritting his teeth through punches. tied to chairs and pumped with drugs. laughed at, looked down on. watching hands he’d once held with such care entwine with ones that had beat into his face in an alley. scaling brick to see the same hands soothing across shaking shoulders.
the crack that sounded was quick but sharp, his palm stinging how he imagined her cheek must have been. it was deafening, the silence in the room as he watched her process what had just happened. her head returned to center, tilting back to look up at him. and steve waited. waited for the pinch to her face, the shout of disapproval. waited to swallow down all those images and get back to his usual routine.
he watched her eyes, staring intently at her pupils as they doubled in size instead of tears welling up.
“you can take it, huh?” he tried again.
“a-anything, steve. whatever you need to give me.”
“yeah,” he strained, leaning forward to plant a hand on the bed beside her, other digging into her thighs until she parted them. “need to give you a lot.” their faces were hardly an inch apart, breath ghosting over each other’s lips as his fingers slid between her folds. “already this wet? then i’m not wasting time getting you off first.”
her head shook like a novelty toy, eyes so hooded he could barely see them past the black line of her lashes. “don’t. just use me...”
any other instruction she could give died in her throat at the press of his hand to it, webbing between his thumb and fingers digging into her windpipe. steve pushed, guided until she was flat on her back and he was hovering over her.
“don’t guide me. just lay there and take it like you said you could.”
attempting to swallow, she choked under the pressure of his hold, his fingers easing up for only a second while he reached down to undo his belt with his free hand. unable to give any verbal sign of understanding, she nodded, shivering when his knuckles brushed over her core in his haste to free himself. the heat of it all had a thought crossing her mind, confirmed when he never left his place over her, simply began dragging his bare head up and down her slit.
“wanna hear this...” he mumbled, letting go of her throat just as he pushed into her. all the way, up to the hilt, balls flush with her ass.
the noise she made was just what he wanted. broken and desperate, slightly raw from the vise that had been cupped around her vocal cords.
“bring your legs up,” steve bit, huffing out breaths from the exertion of being so snug inside her. she placed her heels on the edge of the bed, thighs brushing his hips. “no, bring them up. hold them if you have to.”
“here?” she whined, gripping the backs of her knees to pull them up toward her chest.
“fuck, yeah...” no further warning, his hips reared back, slamming home once more to rip another moan from her. he set them in that pace, not letting up even when her own bucked away to instinctively ease the pressure. “so fuckin’ tight right now... dripping onto the sheets... gonna have to do some laundry this weekend, huh?”
“y-yeah.”
“so hot...” his voice cracked, balls tensing at the picture in his mind. “love watching you bend over into the machine to dig everything out. get me hard when you sit on the couch next to me and fold everything. you know that?”
it was pointless hoping for a response, that’s why he didn’t. he just stared at the way her eyes rolled back, groaned at the clench of her channel around him. they were both plagued with the same burning desires. it’s why he had to adjust himself when she nudged his legs off the coffee table so she could run the vacuum over the spot between it and the couch. why her hand grabbed his off the wheel to place it on her thigh after he’d scraped ice off the windshield while she sat comfortably inside the car.
“shit... i love you, baby...”
“i love you, too, steve... so much.”
he couldn’t take it, crashing their lips together as his hips clapped against her ass, paying no mind to how they moved and allowing himself to get lost in the spit smearing across their chin and cheeks. giant palm finding her neck again, he gave a squeeze just to feel the way her lips vibrated with a silent moan. their noses were bumping and digging into one another, so hard when he ducked in closer that she flinched at the jolt to her bone. a rumble under his hold followed it, her legs shaking from the way the pain shot through her muscles.
“you mine? hm? belong to me?” his lips and hand didn’t let up, leaving her no chance to try and respond until he reeled himself in, hovering over her to get that assurance he so desperately craved.
her eyes were unfocused, bleary when she tried to meet his. all she could manage was a nod, pressure in her head building up until it faded, his hand falling away to slap at her cheek again.
“answer me.”
“y-yes, steve... ’m yours... all yours.”
“ah, fuck... yeah? yeah, you are. proving it to me.” he watched her nod, already slipping back into oblivion, further into it with each stab of his cock against her deepest point. one final cry left her before his hand was back around her throat, thumb prodding into the juncture of her neck, holding her head in place for him to bring their foreheads together. “happy?” he teased, “happy to finally have my cock in you like this? nothing keeping me from knocking you up now.”
her eyebrows knitted, gaze attempting to fix on his through the tremors of his unrelenting hips.
“yeah, don’t gimme that.” steve slowed his pace, letting the room fill with sounds of her soaked walls clinging to him. “like i haven’t noticed you frowning, pouting every time i open a condom.” keeping their faces close, he loosened his grip on her, letting her suck in air that was filled with his own exhales. a needy whine left her each time he thrusted in, still hitting that achy opening. “like it doesn’t kill me too. like i don’t wanna blow my load in you all the fuckin’ time...”
“please...”
the plea had his gaze going dark, fingers once again closing in around her jugular, this time pushing until her head formed a sizable dent in the comforter. air wheezed out of her lungs, the grip around his cock bearing down, fluttering. she was close.
“shit... holy shit...” his teeth were gritted, steve trying to add tension elsewhere to keep his own release from exploding just yet. “when i get this next promotion,” he sneered, “you’re done. fuckin’ done.” snorting, he shoved her hand away, taking hold of her thigh to bring it down and wrap it around his waist. her skin was soft under his touch, pebbled with goosebumps once his palm began trailing further down, settling on her hip. he gripped and squeezed at her flesh, feeling the potential within her bones. “sick of having you come home fried all the fuckin’ time. if you’re gonna melt your brains watching kids all day, they’re gonna be my kids.”
steve felt what would have been a moan rip up her throat, caught beneath the weight of his hand that was teetering so close to too much. the edges of her vision were getting fuzzy, picture clearing when he adjusted for a moment but only to relieve the strain on his knuckles.
“put in your two weeks’ first thing monday. understand?”
the hand he’d slapped away let go of their duvet to grab at his wrist, trying to pull his hand away so her gaping mouth could actually form an answer.
“n-no... fuck. you can nod, i don’t need words.”
so she did, crown of her head digging in until her scalp burned against cotton, hand giving up its attempt to pry him off and grabbing hold of his shirt as it stretched across his bicep. something so filthy and demeaning about having him pin her and use her while she was completely nude and he was completely clothed.
“probably tell them you’re going on maternity leave... ’cause i’m not letting you out of this bed ’til it takes...” she tensed around him again, hip stuttering in his hold as her eyes squeezed shut. “sh-it, shit.”
her orgasm ripped through her like an earthquake, starting on the other side of her world as the snap of a tree branch before it rippled out and shook her entire body. she couldn’t hold it, letting out a moan loud enough to wake everyone in the state when he pulled his hand away. it grabbed hold of her other hip, anchoring her against his so he could fuck into her forcefully.
“cumming from the thought of me keeping you barefoot and pregnant?” he groaned, “jesus, we’re sick.”
normally, she’d laugh with him. make some joke about a white picket fence, or tease him about a caravan. but in the aftermath of her climax, with his head still beating against her womb... she was ready to grovel at his feet for the reality of all that he’d promised.
“i-i don’t care,” she sobbed, “need it, steve. i need it so badly...”
“need what? need me to fuck a baby into you? that what you wanted all along?” he watched as a murky tear ran down her temple, stained with mascara. his balls were tensing, ready to burst at any given moment. “this whole thing about- fuck- about me bottling, just some excuse to get me to fuck you raw?”
“god, please!”
“gonna carry my kids? let me take care of all of you?”
“yes!”
“not gonna complain when... when i- christ, i’m close...” just to torment him, she clamped her walls around him, ready to take the full volume of his load. “gonna leave you every morning... one on your hip after i’ve just pumped another one in you.”
“please, steve, please...”
“yeah?” he whined, unable to catch himself. “want it now?”
“yes!” she was bordering angry, lightheaded from how badly she wanted him to fill her already.
steve went silent, fingertips biting into her skin as he let the words replay over and over in his head. thoughts of her swollen, waddling through the apartment, waiting at the door for him each night... he didn’t realize how bad he wanted it all until it was offered right up for him. all because he doesn’t like letting himself blow off steam. well, didn’t. he was definitely converted now.
“gonna cum,” he gritted, pinning her hips in place so he could get right up against that spot he wanted to.
“cum in me, steve, please let me have your babies.”
“fuck...”
everything in him went stiff, vision blurring white before he shut his eyes altogether, letting his head fall down beside hers. it felt so good, so unbelievably good to let his spend coat her insides. not some stupid fucking condom, not her back, not her chest, or face, or throat. just her silken walls, full to the brim with his seed.
“i love you,” he croaked, kissing at her shoulder. “thank you...”
“i love you, too.” she could tell just from the weight of him on top of her that the release had done more for him than just get him off. the week was over, the day was over. he was just there, melted onto her comfortably. safely.
“keep your legs up,” he groaned, pulling back despite her protests. “’m gonna get us food and stuff.”
“no cuddles? for the future mother of your child?”
shaking out his hair, steve smirked down at her, finally starting to unbutton his shirt to reveal the drenched tank top beneath it. “children, you mean. and we can cuddle when i’m actually finished with you.”
she’d have to give her two weeks’ notice on tuesday, maybe wednesday. because there was no way she was making it anywhere after the weekend with him.
I feel like every writer has created whole stories before around just that one specific scene that they thought of and really wanted to write. Sometimes I wonder what those scenes were for my favourite stories.
