feels good, doesn't it?" + cockwarming and sleepy sex Erling plssss
not my stomach turningggg
Minors DNI!!
Word Count: 285
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A gasp fell from your lips as Erling shuffled behind you, the tip of his cock brushing against your sweet spot as he did.
You rolled your hips back into his, wanting him deeper than he already was.
His tired eyes watched as you continued to push against him, your cunt wrapped tightly around his cock, squeezing him.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Erling murmurs softly, his hand resting on your hip, gripping gently.
“Yes, so good.” You moan quietly, reaching down to rub against your aching clit. Erling grabbed your leg, tossing it over his own pushing him even deeper, just the way you wanted.
His hand slid up your neck, gripping your jaw to turn your face towards him. He leaned closer, kissing you gently, his tongue slipping past your lips.
You couldn’t help but moan into the kiss, continuing to roll your hips as he began to thrust into you slowly, savoring the feeling of being inside your warm cunt.
“You feel so good.” Erling moaned, his hand tightening around your neck, his eyes staring into yours and watching your face twist in pleasure.
“You too.” You arched your back against his chest and moved your hips faster, what Erling was giving you, wasn’t enough. You needed more.
“Harder, please.” You whimper, you were desperate and needy.
“Only because you asked nicely.” He kissed your shoulder before gripping tightly on your hip as he began to pound into you mercilessly.
His hips slapping against your ass repeatedly, the room filled with the sounds of skin slapping and your broken moans.
“Erling!” You cry out, your cunt clenching around him tightly, warning him of your release.
summary : haaland's game gets delayed due to a storm. fortunately for both of you, he's been missing you lately.
content warning ! : 18+ themes, nsfw, unprotected p in v, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving)
The thunder roared, striking down as if with a personal vendetta against the entirety of Manchester. It was a common occurrence in England, late night storms. But this one didn't start deep into the night when everyone was already ready to sleep. This storm, carrying raindrops practically the size of golf balls and lighting so intense the entire sky flashed white when it hit, started as early as dawn.
As early as 7:30AM even, when Haaland got up to get ready for one of the biggest matches of his career. Champion's League quarter finals, right here in his home stadium. He wasn't feeling the pressure, having a little excitement in his step the whole day. He adored being pumped for important matches instead of having the jitters all day long.
Unfortunately for him and the whole of England, who of course bought tickets, the match was postponed due to the harsh weather conditions. Haaland was of Viking descent, no rain or hail could stop him from charging at that ball faster than any player on that field, but rules were rules.. safety precautions needed to be followed. It's not like the enemy team is more scared of Erling charging at them than the bit of thunder.
Unfortunately (fortunately) for you, the only other thing Haaland could do during the power outage the storm caused except complain about his game being delayed is.. well, you.
It started innocently enough, he would swear if anyone were to ask. He just saw how pretty you were in the moonlight, cuddled up under that soft wool blanket because he insisted the window must be open to let the cool (freezing) wind in.
First, you felt his hands slide under the blanket, under your pyjama shirt. Oddly warm, considering the fact he spent the last ten minutes sticking his hands out and collecting rain water like a sick, homeless child.
".. what are you doing?" You murmured, sleepy enough to mumble, awake enough to feel and hear everything he wanted you to.
Haaland leaned in, lips on the shell of your ear. "Are you too tired to? 'S fine."
Fuck, that whispered half-hidden plea already had your thighs pressing together. Who decided a man this big and this hot should be this gentle with you?
That soft shake of your head "no" wasn't enough. He pressed his thumb to your lower lip, pulling it down slightly, lifting his chin as if expecting something. *Say it.*
"No, baby, I'm not too tired.. not for you, handsome." You finally murmur through a smile. As you tried to sit up to kiss him, he beat you to it.
It started off as everything ever did with him. Sweet and slow, like he wanted to show you that despite the lightning and the stars and the moon, you shone the brightest tonight. His lips weren't rough, he couldn't bring himself to be rough with you in any aspect. He was already scared he'd squeeze too hard and break you, because let's be honest, he's bigger. A lot bigger than most guys on the field, let alone you.
Only when you pulled away to take a breath did he completely let his control fly out that open window above you.
His lips attached to your chin, pressing slow firm kisses up your jaw, pressing himself into you like he wanted to merge you two into one blob of pure adoration. That's all he felt for you, anyway. Love. Devotion. Care. He broke bones on the grass to get a ball into a net, but right now, he was here for you.
"Baby.. oh, I love you, but.. god, you need to touch me already.. I'm pleading here.."
That sigh from you was met with a firm finger to shush you.
"Let me finish up here.." He murmured, kissing all the way from the shell of your ear, behind it.. and then starting down your neck, softly of course. You were already starting to heat up. The blanket was pulled off you. The goosebumps that rose on your entire body, you weren't sure if they were from the biting cold of the outside or from how his hands were gently, just using his fingertips, gliding up and down your inner thigh.
And suddenly, you have never been happier that a match of his has been delayed.
"You trust me, don't you? Would you let me do what I think you need?" He whispered into your neck, smirking there like he wasn't taking you apart bit by bit without even touching you yet.
"Of course I trust you, just.. hurry up?" You gritted out, so so impatient.
"Why? You want it to be over quicker?" With a teasing lilt in his voice, he pulled away to look you in the eyes when he asked. Those eyes could've sucked his soul out right then and there.
"Don't look at me like that.. prettiest eyes I've ever seen. Rather be looking up at 'em.." He smirked the last part to himself, but judging by the way you smiled despite the blush already spreading (like your legs wanted to), he assumed you heard as well.
"Hands up, c'mon.." He guided you out of your pyjama shirt gently. Secretly, maybe he was hoping you were already out of your bra, but unfortunately for him there was another layer before he could get to those pretty boobs.
Fuck, did you look good like that though.. nothing lacy, nothing special, but he still felt himself getting as hard as a rock.
Slipping his own shirt off, he turned around for just a second to look at the moonlight and already, he felt your hands all over his abs and chest. Not even you, his girlfriend, who's seen him shirtless hundreds of times, could resist.
"How adorable, love.. let me do that to you now?" He grinned, already cupping your chest. His two hands were more than enough.
You laughed. ".. just take everything off, stop teasing."
"Everything?" He smirked. "Oh, but aren't you cold?" A grin spread across his lips and he caught your wrist when you reached out to.. slap? Strangle? Touch those gorgeous greek god abs again?
"Kay, baby, I will.. I promise I will, just trust me.. I can do it, I've done it before. You've liked it. I know what I am doing." He explained slowly as both thumbs slipped into the waistband of your pajama pants and pulled them down, until they were just a mess of fabric pooling at your ankles. He slipped both of your feet out of them, then tossed them somewhere across the room. You'll find them.. probably.
The pad of his thumb first ran up the side of your thigh, got to your hip, then slid back down. This time, it curved it's path across to your inner thigh. There, it switched to him using his whole palm to gently caress up, then teasingly, cruelly even, his knuckles brushed over where you were already damp from his way-too-good kisses.
"Fucker.." You gritted out, already planning 101 ways to murder his shit-eating grin having self.
"I've been called worse, but.. sure." He shrugged, pulling away for a moment to re-tie his ponytail-slash-manbun hairstyle.
You sat up straight, leaning against the headboard when you realized what he was gonna do. Put that talkative mouth to good use. Very, very good use.
"You don't have to if you wanna just--" You started, but little left your mouth when he started pulling your panties down. Wet. Sticky. All his fault. Now he's gonna make it all better.
He slid a hand under your left thigh and propped it up on his shoulder, not even noticing the weight. With a row of half sloppy kisses and half heavy sighs up your thigh, he got to exactly where you wanted him.. then smirked up at you.
Then went to the other thigh.
"Oh, baby, c'mon.." The complaint made him laugh.
"But this is my favourite spot.."
"What, my thigh?"
"No.. not your thigh, well, yes, but.. this." He thumbed at the little tattoo you got a few months ago. His number, 9, in that specific font Manchester City uses on their jerseys.
And, letting his instincts win, he bit down around it. Not hard, not at all, he didn't want to hurt you. But enough to make you gasp.. and drip just a little more.
"This, I love. Means you want to be mine."
"Of course I wanna be yours.. wouldn't have been yours if I didn't to, right?" You smiled, already threading a hand through his hand, trying to keep this romantic even though the ache between your legs would not stop until he put his tongue there.
Fortunately, he read your mind. His hands on either of your thighs, he spread you wider. Then, wrapping his forearms around your hips, he pulled you into him.
"Fuck yes.." You sighed in pure, sweet relief. You had been throbbing since the moment he started touching your stomach under the blanket.
And when Haaland was hungry.. dammit, he ate.
He was careful at first. A kiss to your clit, gently, using his thumb to pull up the hood just a tiny bit. He didn't want to touch too hard, knowing how sensitive this area was for you.
Then around it. Soft kisses around your pussy, folds, tormenting you so gently it felt like heaven and hell at the same time. He wanted you pulsing his name before he even dove in. Metaphorically, of course.
"Oh, god.." The sensation had to be met with a moan of yours. Breathy. Like you were trying to catch your breath at the same time.
He looked up. Blue eyes on yours.
He didn't say anything. His tongue was doing a better job right now.
Circling your clit gently. Flat tongue, slow licks, circular. Your thighs were already shaking, but his hands holding them open did not allow you to close them. It was rude to interrupt someone having a meal.
"E-- Erling, baby.." You tried to keep cool, but fuck, it was impossible!
"H-- Haaland.. Erling-- Erling.." His name was no longer a formality, it was a chant. A prayer, even. Like you were praying *god, please don't make die because my boyfriend is that good at eating me out*.
He chuckled slightly against you, making you squirm away until he pulled you back onto his mouth.
Unwrapping one hand from your thigh, he now used his newly freed fingers to touch the places where his touch couldn't reach. Your opening, softly being eased open until one thick finger was in up to the first knuckle.
"Is this okay?" He asked, pulling away just enough to wipe his mouth. He looked oh so proud of himself, making his girl feel so good.
"So.. so good.." You murmured, already drunk off the feeling of being eaten out by this sculpture of a man. His lips now closed around your clit, sucking just enough to feel good while his one finger thrusted in and out of you, quick, no lazy movements.
He looked up at him. Silently asking *Am I doing good? Do you feel good?*. Now he was the one with the stupid huge doe eyes, meeting yours over pale lashes. Neither of you broke eye contact, not even when you felt that familiar warmth in your lower stomach.
He moved his tongue lower, moving his fingers to your clit while his mouth now maneuvered your entrance. Slipping inside gently, his tongue treated your pussy better than any dick ever has.
Well, except his of course.
Now getting tongue-fucked, the back of your head hit the wall and you broke that sacred eye contact. Immediately, his hand reached up to pat your cheek. Down here. Look at me. Eyes on me.
Eventually, when he thought you were a little too close to that delicious edge, he pulled his mouth away but slipped his hand back down to your entrance, easily slipping inside now that you were used to it.
With his hand now pleasuring you, he slid upwards to whisper in your ear.
While his right hand fingers were getting you oh so close, his left hand reached up to finally pull your boobs out of the bra he begun to loathe. Free the nipple believer, apparently.
"Love these more.. love these so much.." He murmured, leaning down to take one nipple, already hard from the cold air, into his mouth. No hard sucking, no sucking at all. Just gentle warm from his mouth and his tongue going back and forth.
"Babe, I-- oh my god!"
"Tell me if it hurts, love.. please." He whispered, thrusting one finger in and out slowly.
"No, no.. no, don't stop.. I swear, if you stop.."
He laughed. Quiet. "I won't, I promise... can you take another?"
The nod he got was enough to try a second finger.
You remember the last time, how his fingers made you anticipate his cock so badly. But he was so patient, so gentle.. even if it basically split you in half.
When the two fingers were now inside to the second knuckle, he reached up with his thumb and found your clit for slow rubs while his fingers felt around for that spot inside you.
Your face contorted, eyebrows pulling together in pleasure. Never in your life had you felt something like this. No other man could finger fuck you like this football beast could. No other man would be able to make you pray for your life when his fingers are inside you.
"D'you wanna cum? Huh?" He asked, lips kissing your earlobe.
"E-- Erling, baby, please.." You pleaded, grabbing his wrist even though the last thing you wanted was for him to stop.
"Yes or no?"
"Yes-- fuck, yes! Of course!"
"Then go ahead.." He murmured, immediately wrapping an arm around your shoulders when he felt you clenching around his fingers.
Stars. You saw stars. And a light. Was that the moon or Heaven? You didn't know yet.
Rolling sideways into his arms, he chuckled. "I'll let you rest for a bit.. then do you want *me*? Not my finge--"
"Yes." The answer was immediate. "Please, fuck me until I scream."
"That won't take long, you know.." Haaland laughed. "Are you sure you can do it immediately after?" He asked in concern, holding you so close, stroking your hair and tucking sweaty locks out of your face. "I don't want to.. eh.. overstimulate you." Haaland explained, clearly worried. For no reason. You were fine! Or so you insisted.
"If I can't, then I'll tell you.. but right now, I just want you inside me.." You told him, reaching for the waistband of his shorts. "Please. Let me have it. I don't want anything else."
He pushed your hands away to undress himself. Pulling off boxers along with shorts, his cock sprang free from its desperate confines. You remember it like yesterday, the last time you took this beast like the good girl you were. Probably because it maybe even was yesterday.
"Ready, sweetheart? Ready for me?" He asked, already super cocky now that he saw your reaction to it. That shocked look never gets old.
But you were leaning forward to kiss his tip. "Oh, sweetheart, you-.."
Haaland cut himself off with a groan when you swirled your tongue around his tip, rock hard since he initiated this.
Sliding a hand into your hair, he pulled you off his cock.
"Don't make me.. fuck, don't make me cum so quick. I still gotta treat that gorgeous pussy.." He bit his lip with a grin. "Lay back, gorgeous."
He grabbed your right calf and hitched it around his waist for leverage to get deeper when needed.
Flipping open the small pink bottle labeled lubricant, Haaland poured a generous amount on his hands and cock, but just because he was all ready doesn't mean he's not gonna make his pretty girl beg for it.
He already had all the access in the world to you, spread wide and waiting, making it even easier to slap his cock onto your weeping cunt. You were already so ready to cum again, but now he was teasing you. Holding with his right hand, he slapped it a few times higher up, hitting your clitoris with his tip.
"Say it, baby. Tell me you need me."
"Need you, so bad.. so so bad, please just push in."
He would tease more if he wasn't a second away from bursting himself. Guiding the tip to his entrance with 3 fingers, he slipped just the tip inside.
Sloooowly, he began pushing in. It burned being stretched beyond your limits, but when someone like Erling Haaland is holding you.. and fucking you to sleep.. nothing is painful. Especially not your boyfriend's cock.
"N-- no condom?"
"I-- I just assumed, because last time you told me-- I'm sorry.." He immediately panicked, going to pull out.
"Nononono! Fuck me like this. Cum inside."
".. are you.. sure?"
"Absolutely. I already have your number on me, why wouldn't I have your baby..?"
"Oh, baby, how to control myself now...?" He gulped, genuinely looking scared. He spent a whole 2 minutes slowly pushing it, hoping he wouldn't hurt. Last thing he wanted to do is hurt his pretty, sweet girl.
"Ohhhhhh my goddd... Erling.."
"What? Too much?"
"Nono.. just enough.. just give me a minute."
"Please, love, take all the time you need.. " He explained, even though it showed the strain and the need to fuck her into the sheets until the entire room went white was at an all time high. But of course he'll wait.
After 5 minutes of soft dirty talk (him whispering what he's gonna do to you after this), you finally said: "you can move".
Those words were like a red flag to a bull. Immediately, he started thrusting, propping your legs up onto his shoulder, driving himself deeper, deeper, deeper..
"Erling! God, yes! Just like that!"
He leaned over you, grabbing your jaw. "Tell me.. who fucks you better than I do? Hmm?"
"No one, fuck, no one!"
"That's right.." He grinned, so proud. "That's right, yeah.. thank god that match was canceled. Otherwise I wouldn't be making my girl see stars right now.. Not cold anymore, are you?" He gripped the headboard for leverage and went harder.
"Oh my.. oh--.. ah.." Not even words could leave you at this point. Your world was reduced to his cock sliding in and out of you and his hands gripping your cheeks and his eyes holding your gaze so intensely and his stupid smirk and you were certain only a minute more and you'd burst.
"Close, baby, so close, huh? Wait for me, yeah?" He groaned, gripping your thigh where the tattoo was, digging his fingers into it.
"Please, hurry up.. needa cum, but.. need you to cum with me.." You whimpered, to which he silenced you with his lips.
"Right behind ya.. just let go.." His thumb found the space between both of you and rubbed at your clit, touching the whole front part of your pussy that he couldn't stimulate with fucking.
"O-- oh my god, I.. Fuck.. Baby, please.. holy shit.." You squealed. He laughed as your legs tightened around his waist, even though he was a mess himself.
"What are you begging for? I told you you could let go.." A smirk tugged at his lips, just quick enough to hide the groan that ripped from his chest. He might have been hiding it well, but he was completely ruined by you. He could've fucked 20 girls after this, not a single one would have made him feel this good. You were special to him. You loved him like no one else and this was the only way he could truly repay you, by showing you how deep his obsession with you went. Almost as deep as his cock was inside you.
"Ugh.. love, I can't.. hold on.." He bit his lip, trying not to scream at how amazing you felt around him. So warm. He could've stayed inside you forever, football be damned.
"Inside..? You wanna.. fuck!" Your question was cut off by your moan as he sunk as deep as he get himself. "Yes, don't pull out, please.. ohmygodErling!"
"I got you, I got you.. not pulling out.. didn't even wanna.. fuuckk.." He moaned, feeling you finally cum and squeeze around him. He has been so pent up the whole season, having to come back home late after days of training and matches. You had been so patient, so loving, so supportive. Never once did you make him the villain for not being around alot. You just let him follow his dreams.
And he needed to give all that love back.
With a few more lazy thrusts, he bottomed out and let all of it out.
Staying like that for a few seconds was peace.
Then he pulled out slowly and laid down next to you to take a breather. Everything of his was dripping out of you onto the sheets, where he reached out with a nearby towel to clean up and threw it into the hamper to wash later.
"I will order food, yes?" He smiled breathlessly. "You go shower? Or do you wanna shower together? Let me help you up, I'll get you new clothes.."
"No.. just lay here.." You complained, but ultimately knew you couldn't lay around after sex. You had to shower and most importantly use the bathroom immediately after.
"We'll cuddle, I promise, I'll order your favourite too.. first, we shower. More importantly, you shower." He said, picking you up and guiding you to the bathroom. "Do you need help? Do you want a bath instead of a shower? Does it hurt?"
"No, no and no. I'm fine."
".. I'll close the window so it won't be cold after your shower. And I'll order food and I'll get your blankets."
You smiled, kissed him.
Manchester City were gonna have one happy goal scoring machine tomorrow. Good for them. They needed this win.
afterword : first smutshot kind of nervous... this is in honour of the world cup! no one can convince me he isn't hot. he isn't even a hear me out he is genuinely sooo sexy.. hope u guys like it though !
I have a request for if you feel like writing it. I just saw a video of Jack saying Erling is always the longest in the shower, so I was thinking almost getting caught with Erling?
Love you xx
in and out | erling haaland + some like it hot series
☆ warnings: +18 content, minors dni. p in v, unprotected sex, swearing.
from all the ways your visit at the etihad stadium could’ve ended, this wasn’t on your list.
you didn’t know what was going on with him when he invited you—although it definitely felt like you had no option whatsoever— to visit him for a little personalized tour after training. it wasn’t like you hadn’t been there before; you’d visited the stadium a couple of times for matches but never been able to wander around the facilities due to the number of people present. today, you encountered what seemed like a totally different place; almost empty, the stadium was quiet except for the occasional scream or chat behind closed doors when you passed by them. erling walked next to you, chatting about the dressing room and how insanely large the showers were; he wasn’t fooling anyone, he was totally lurking you in the most private place on the stadium, where most of his teammates weren’t stepping a foot in. you noticed his wicked smile once he verified that the place was deserted. you could feel what he was trying to do, and that was because you wanted that as well.
it’s been months of fooling around, flirting, and mostly giving each other heated stares when you thought no one else was paying attention. you were just waiting for something to happen—something that could destroy or transform your relationship with erling. while you entered the dressing room and admired the row of seats, the kits hanging above the lockers and pretended to pay attention to the decoration while erling’s fingers brushed against your exposed arm, you could also feel his eyes burning holes in your whole figure due to the light sundress you insisted on wearing due to the hot weather in manchester. what a good decision.
the sexual tension wasn’t funny anymore. your skin was aching for his touch, and you didn’t know how much longer you could bear this stupid back-and-forth you two had going on. this wasn’t normal between friends.
“that’s a cute dress, y’know?” you felt his hand caress your thigh once you took a seat in his booth, his touch sending goosebumps all over your body and an electric feeling that went straight to your core while his eyes were fixated on the way the material of your dress kept going upwards with every move you made.
“i thought you might like it.” you bit your lip, following the movements of his hand as his thumb started to massage your skin, making it difficult to act like you weren’t affected by it. like you weren’t dying to open your legs and let him do whatever he wanted to you. this was the most outrageous behavior you’d ever allowed yourself to have around him.
“i don’t like it.” the side of his mouth lifted, his eyes meeting yours. “i love it. covers just enough to make me wonder…”
“wonder what?” your eyes went to his hand, which hadn’t left your thigh.
“you know what.” you felt his hand brushing against your chin, tilting your head slightly, so you looked up. “wanna see the showers?”
his eyes were telling you a completely different story. you knew that if you said “yes”, you weren’t agreeing to see the showers. it could end in a big, horrible, disaster for both of you… but did it matter at this point?
“sure…” he smirked once the word left your lips, taking your hand, guiding you to the rows of very fancy doors, each open to reveal a very wide space where four people could easily fit. he was right about them being insanely big.
no words were exchanged as you both entered the last one in the row, the door slamming shut behind erling’s back. you turned, not knowing exactly what to expect; but as soon as your eyes met again, he grabbed you by the neck, making your body clash against his as his lips looked hungrily for yours. a gasp left your mouth, grabbing handfuls of his shirt as your back touched the cold tiles of the shower once he cornered you.
his kisses were fast, messy, and desperate. they felt like he’d waited way too long for it; as far as you were concerned, you did too. you met his pace, feeling as hungry for him as he seemed to be for you. not even your wildest fantasies could’ve met the reality of kissing erling. his hands roamed through your body, staying on your ass, massaging it so good that you moaned against his mouth.
“there’s no way i’m letting you fuck me here, erling.” you whispered once the kiss finished, your voice tone not even close to being convincing. you didn’t feel very convinced about not wanting him to fuck you either .
“why not? no one’s going to notice.” your own hands were exploring his shoulders and biceps, making your mind wander to the previous times you had seen him shirtless. “you saw how empty this place is. i promise we’ll be out of here before anyone comes… how does that sound?”
“i don’t know…” while you acted like you were thinking about it, his lips caressed your neck, leaving kisses that made you bite your lip as hard as you could endure to not spur out the word “yes” in such a desperate tone.
“are you sure you don’t want to?” you could feel his hands on your legs, one of them getting dangerously close to your core. “i’ll make you feel so good…” the whisper sent shivers through your back, making your thoughts intertwine with each other until you were kissing again, unable to say no.
because, god, you wanted him to fuck you; it didn’t matter if the fucking king walked in.
his touches were soft as he raised your dress up your ass, leaving you exposed and blushing as he finally took it off your body. his eyes didn’t waste time, taking in the delicate white set you had on, his chest going up and down until he finally met your eyes.
“you’re so fucking beautiful.” you didn’t know if you were this nervous from the way he was looking at you, or from the compliment that made you aware of your half-naked body. not like it mattered.
your eyes followed him, having to restrain yourself from saying something stupid once he got rid of his shirt, leaving all that incredible body on display. your eyes were inviting him to just do something, so when he finally got near, you couldn’t help but touch every inch of skin available. he was so… god.
his touched the back of your legs, effortlessly lifting you until you were seated on a little tile bench that you didn’t know was there to begin with. your eyes never left his as you felt him caressing your thighs, his fingers massaging your skin so subtly that you didn’t feel an ounce of self-consciousness as they traveled upward. just as his fingers lingered just above your core, you let out a gasp.
“can i?” hearing him ask sounded a bit ridiculous due to the situation, but you appreciated how he still cared to ask for consent even though you were two seconds from begging.
“yes…” your voice came out weird to your ears, a slight blush covering your cheeks as he took your underwear off, the feeling of the fabric against your legs made what was about to happen ten times more real. you knew you were already wet as his touch became lighter on your inner thighs, your breath coming to a halt as his fingers touched your folds, your eyes shutting as soon as his thumb brushed your clit.
“look at me…” he said suddenly, his fingers grabbing your chin to tilt your head. when you didn’t open them right away, you felt his thumb caressing the side of your jaw, squeezing just enough to make you pay attention. “look at me.”
his harsh tone made you look up at his face, which showed an expression that you just couldn’t decipher. it made him ten times more attractive; you just couldn’t look away from the intensity of his eyes or the way his jaw was clenching. your mouth fell open when you felt his finger slowly circling your entrance before sliding in painfully slow, letting you feel— and adjust— to his large digit. you wanted to hide, ashamed of the moan that left your lips once he added a second one, curling them while they went in and out, making your legs shaky by the feeling of it, making you wonder how good his dick would feel inside of you.
“feels good, baby?” he asks, a playful undertone to his question that made you smile through the pleasure he was giving you. the feeling of his thumb circling your clit and his fingers curling deep down your core made you whimper, a quick nod being the only answer he got. “told you i was going to make it worth it.”
“you’re such a cocky—” a moan interrupted your words once he added a third finger, having you gasping for air for a moment. “bastard.” you finished, closing your eyes a second time while your body adjusted to the size of his slender fingers.
it felt too good, and by the slow-burning feeling that was building up, you knew you were very close to cumming. you stared at him for a long moment before grabbing his neck, pulling him for a kiss that had both of your breathing shaky, your kisses messy as you tightened around him.
“i’m so close, oh my—” you couldn’t even finish the phrase as you felt your orgasm hit you with force, having to grab onto him as you saw stars behind your eyelids, feeling a sudden fear of being too loud for someone to hear. you felt erling’s lips traveling from your neck to your shoulder, his fingers still moving for a few seconds before he retrieved them, leaving you feeling empty and needy for more. “fuck me…” you whispered against his chest, leaving a trail of kisses until your lips were next to his ear. “now.”
your hands looked blindly for the waistband of his shorts, palming through the fabric until you felt his clothed dick hard against your palm. erling let out a shaky breath while you played with the waistband, slowly lowering it until his shaft hit the bare skin of his stomach. it was such an erotic view that you felt your mouth water a bit. then, as your hand encircled his dick, reality hit you: you didn’t have a condom with you, and you doubted that erling did either. and why was the idea of him fucking you bare so hot?
luckily you were on the pill.
“fuck…” he whispered when you started to jerk him off, enjoying how his dick seemed to get bigger— which was impressive due to him being already big. “you’re such a tease.” he laughed, grabbing your shoulders so you couldn’t have a choice but to back off, looking at him with a playful smile.
he manhandled you so well that it surprised you how much it turned you on. your back was totally glued to the wall as he grabbed your thighs, making your legs open at each side of his hips. it felt like an out of body experience, your eyes fixated on how he was adjusting himself, the tip of his cock glistening with your juices when he teased your entrance, making both of you moan lowly. as he entered you, you grabbed his arms, your nails digging into the skin, your head tilting back.
“oh go—”
“mate? are you here?” just when you were about to let out a moan— a very loud moan— you heard a voice a bit far away from where you were, but undoubtedly near enough to hear anything if you spoke up. “erling?” then you recognized the brum accent, your eyes going wide as you stared at erling.
jack was here.
“yeah?!” against whatever you believed erling would do, he fucking answered. and when you thought it couldn’t get worse, he started to bump into you as slowly as he could, making your mouth wide open, a silent moan being your only response. “what’s up?”
your shook your head, wanting him to just shut up and get jack away from the booth; but something in his eyes told you that he was about to do the exact opposite. the kinky shit.
“nothing, i just heard you had a friend over for a visit.” you couldn’t concentrate on jack’s presence, even though it was mortifying, while erling’s pace got a bit higher, his hand covering your mouth when it opened again. “heard she’s really nice.”
“oh yeah, she’s extremely nice.” erling’s smile grew bigger, making you give him a dirty look.
all of the sudden, you felt his thumb circling your clit, making you whimper despite his hand covering most of your moans, leaving the room in a weird silence while you were very sure jack was standing right behind the door. your nails kept leaving traces on erling’s skin, your mind wanting to find anything to distract you from the pleasure you were feeling. it was twisted, since there was a person about to catch you fucking with erling, but that only made the situation hotter.
“man, you’re always taking the longest time in the shower. when you get out, introduce me to that friend of yours, yeah?” you heard jack’s sigh, making you wonder if he even noticed anything weird going on. “well, see ya when you finish, princess. make sure to put on conditioner.”
“fuck you.” erling said, his eyes never leaving yours as his thrusts became faster, his fingers still stimulating you as you tightened around him.
finally, you heard the main door shut. you waited a few seconds to slap his arm, his hand still lingering on your mouth while his pace increased, leaving you breathless. he never stopped, and when he finally removed his hand and you had the opportunity to say something, you didn’t. the thing was… you couldn’t say anything because you were too stimulated to make up something coherent. all you could do was stare at him, biting your lip as hard as you could to stop the moans just in case someone else walked in, feeling wetter by the second. you couldn’t believe he was going to make you cum a second time.
“i think i was wrong about no one walking on us.” his smile let you know he wasn’t even sorry about it.
“you think?” you say with a strangled voice, moaning quietly when you felt him hitting the right spot inside of you. “asshole.”
“you sure love this asshole’s dick, don’t you?” he went back to leave kisses on your neck and collarbone, sucking on the skin so gently that you didn’t notice at first. “you feel so fucking amazing.” then he moaned right above your ear, and you absolutely lost it. you moaned too, holding on for dear life to him as your second orgasm hit you so suddenly you didn’t even become aware of it until you felt erling tensing under your touch. “fuck…”
and then you felt how he came right after you, tightening his grip around you as he gave a final thrust, going deep inside you that you felt his cum filling you up. the two of you stayed like that for a while, your breathing loud and erratic while you recovered from what just happened. you were afraid of looking up from his chest, knowing that now, when the euphoria has worn off, you have to face the fact that you just fucked erling and got almost caught. just as it all started, no words were exchanged when he finally pulled out, a quick glance being all that was needed for him to grin and for you to giggle.
“do you have something to clean your cum off me?” he laughed at that, going to the wall next to you, pulling out wet tissues and a tiny towel from a cabinet you hadn’t noticed. this place was full of surprises. you stretched out your hand, wanting to take them from him.
“let me do it.” his answer shocked you a bit, so you just nodded. his touch felt way different— more intimate—as he cleaned you, making sure you were all set before helping you get off the bench, his hands never leaving you until you put the dress on, looking around with an arched eyebrow. “what?” he asked when you kept looking.
“where’s my underwear?”
“who knows…” his mischievous tone made you look at him just in time to catch him stuffing the white lace in the pocket of his shorts.
“erling! give them to me!” you reached for his arm, only to get manhandled again, this time in a playful way that had you smiling. “that’s my underwear!”
“finders keepers, darling.” he whispered in your ear before kissing you by surprise, taking your mind away from it all.
maybe you made the right choice by following him into the showers.
Summary: A record-breaking heatwave leaves Steve Harrington fighting for survival, armed only with determination, increasingly desperate solutions, and a girlfriend who refuses to have sex with him until the temperature drops.
Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, no use of y/n, established relationship, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, teasing, heatwave, summer fluff, domestic relationship, horny steve harrington, idiot boyfriend behaviour, humour, kissing, excessive yearning, steve suffering for comedic purposes (lmk if i missed anything)
W/C: 5.8k
A/N: Might be my favourite thing I've ever written. Enjoy lovelies!!
Read more of my writing here: [masterlist]
If you want to be added to my taglist, leave a comment to lmk!
The heatwave arrives on Monday.
At first, it doesn't seem particularly threatening.
Warm, certainly. Warmer than usual. The sort of weather that has neighbours emerging from hibernation to mow their lawns shirtless and every local supermarket mysteriously selling out of ice lollies by lunchtime. People complain about it, naturally, because people always complain about weather regardless of whether it's good or bad, but there's still a novelty to it. The windows are thrown open. Garden furniture reappears. Somebody three streets over starts playing music loudly enough to qualify as a public service announcement.
Steve spends most of the afternoon declaring it "actually pretty nice."
You spend most of the afternoon reminding him that it's only the first day.
Neither of you realises how long the heatwave is planning to stay.
Which is how, several hours later, you find yourselves climbing into bed completely unaware that you're about to begin what will later become known as The Longest Week Of Steve Harrington's Life.
The bedroom is already unpleasant.
Not unbearably hot yet, but close enough to be annoying. The air feels heavy and stale. The open window isn't helping nearly as much as either of you had hoped it would. Somewhere outside, a car alarm briefly goes off before stopping again, and from another house comes the distant sound of somebody arguing about whether they should buy a fan.
The sheets are warm. The pillows are warm. Even the mattress seems suspiciously warm.
You spend approximately thirty seconds lying there before kicking one leg free of the duvet. Steve follows shortly afterwards. Then the other leg. Then an arm. Then the duvet itself ends up somewhere near the bottom of the bed.
For a while neither of you says anything. You're both too busy attempting to negotiate a comfortable sleeping position without actually touching anything.
Then you feel it. The look. You don't even need to turn your head. You know that look. After several years together, you could probably identify it from another postcode.
Slowly, you glance across the bed, and Steve is already watching you. The smile arrives first - that familiar crooked smile that always means he's about to become a problem.
"Oh no."
"What?"
"Don't 'what' me."
The innocence in his voice is deeply unconvincing.
"What are you talking about?"
You stare. Steve stares back, his smile getting wider.
"There it is."
"There what is?"
"The face."
"I don't have a face."
"You absolutely have a face."
Steve laughs quietly. The mattress shifts as he rolls onto his side, immediately moving closer like a moth approaching a flame.
Or an idiot approaching an obviously bad decision. Possibly both.
"Baby."
"No."
"I haven't even said anything."
"You don't need to."
His hand slides lazily across your waist. You try very hard not to smile, but fail immediately. Steve notices, because of course he notices.
Encouraged by this development, he leans closer and presses a kiss against your shoulder. Then another. Then one just below your ear.
Ordinarily, this would be an excellent way to spend an evening. Ordinarily, you'd be entirely supportive of whatever nonsense Steve Harrington was attempting.
Ordinarily.
"Steve."
"Hm?"
"It's too hot." The protest comes out halfway between a laugh and a groan.
Steve freezes - actually freezes - like you've just informed him Christmas has been cancelled.
"It's not that hot."
You stare at him. Then gesture broadly around the room. Towards the open window which is doing absolutely nothing, towards the discarded duvet, towards the fact that neither of you has voluntarily touched each other for more than five seconds all evening.
"It's absolutely that hot."
The betrayal on his face is immediate, profound, almost moving. Steve drops backwards onto the mattress with enough dramatic force to make the entire bed bounce beneath you.
"My own girlfriend."
"Oh, don't start."
"My own girlfriend rejects me."
"You'll survive."
"I don't know if I will."
"You will."
"This feels personal."
You laugh so hard your stomach hurts.
Steve, meanwhile, continues staring at the ceiling like a man contemplating the collapse of civilisation.
For the next ten minutes, he complains continuously about injustice, about cruelty, about the fundamental unfairness of the universe. At one point, he accuses the weather itself of targeting him specifically.
You point out that several million other people are currently experiencing the exact same temperature. Steve remains unconvinced.
Eventually, however, even he has to admit defeat. The heat is simply too much.
So the two of you settle into the familiar compromise you've perfected over the years.
Close enough to feel each other's presence. Far enough apart that neither of you overheats.
One of Steve's feet ends up resting lightly against your ankle. Your hand brushes his wrist.
Tiny points of contact. Just enough.
And as you drift off to sleep, Steve mutters something under his breath about the weather being his greatest enemy.
At the time, you assume he's joking.
By day four, neither of you will be entirely sure.
Day two is worse.
Not just emotionally. Meteorologically.
The temperature climbs several degrees higher overnight and, with it, whatever goodwill either of you had left towards summer. The air feels thicker somehow, heavier, as though somebody has draped an invisible blanket over the entire town and forgotten to remove it. Opening windows doesn't help. Closing them doesn't help. Standing in front of a fan helps for approximately thirty seconds before the fan simply starts blowing warm air directly into your face.
By lunchtime, every surface in the house has developed the faintly unpleasant quality of being slightly warm to the touch. The sofa is warm. The kitchen counters are warm. Even the floor feels suspiciously warm.
Steve is handling this poorly, dramatically, the way Steve handles most things.
You find him standing in front of the open refrigerator no fewer than four times throughout the day, each time pretending he's looking for something despite making absolutely no effort to actually remove anything from it.
At one point you walk into the kitchen to discover him simply staring into the fridge with his eyes closed.
"What are you doing?"
"It's cooler in here."
"Steve."
"Don't take this from me."
By early evening, however, another problem begins presenting itself.
Namely you.
Or more specifically, the fact that surviving a heatwave requires dressing accordingly.
The tiny shorts aren't for Steve. The tiny vest isn't for Steve. The fact that you've spent most of the day with your hair tied up and as much skin exposed as possible isn't for Steve either.
It's for survival. Pure, practical survival.
Unfortunately, Steve appears determined not to believe this.
You catch him looking, frequently - the sort of distracted glances that start subtle and become increasingly obvious as the day progresses.
By six o'clock, he's lost all pretence entirely.
The incident occurs while you're making a drink in the kitchen.
You're standing on tiptoe, reaching into the cupboard for a glass when you feel familiar arms wrap around your waist from behind, and you immediately grow suspicious. Because Steve only approaches this quietly when he's planning something.
His chest presses against your back, his chin settles briefly on your shoulder. And then comes the smile. You can't see it, but you can feel it.
"Steve."
"Baby."
The man already sounds wounded, and you haven't even rejected him yet. His forehead drops onto your shoulder dramatically, like a Victorian widower grieving a lost love.
"What?"
"I had an idea."
You close your eyes. "No."
"You don't even know what it is."
"I absolutely know what it is."
"You don't."
"I do."
"You don't."
You finally turn around, only to find him looking deeply offended. A performance - an excellent performance - but a performance nonetheless.
"Tell me your idea."
The smile arrives instantly, far too quickly, like he'd been waiting for permission.
"What if," he begins carefully, "I had a really good solution to this whole situation?"
Your eyes narrow. "What situation?"
"The situation where my girlfriend keeps rejecting me."
You laugh despite yourself, and Steve takes this as encouragement. Which is a mistake.
"A really practical solution."
"Oh God."
"What if I bent you over the kitchen counter?"
You nearly drop the glass.
"Steve!"
"The counter's cool."
"Oh my God."
"What?"
"The fact that you've thought about the temperature of the counter is deeply concerning."
"I'm adapting."
"You're spiralling."
"I'm innovating."
The smile he gives you is so proud of itself that you nearly laugh again. Nearly.
Because the problem is that he's very attractive. Even sweaty. Especially sweaty, unfortunately.
His hands settle against your hips, his gaze flicks briefly to your mouth, and for one dangerous moment, you genuinely consider it. The cool counter, the empty house, the fact that it's been two whole days.
Steve sees the hesitation immediately, and the hope that appears on his face is almost embarrassing.
"Baby?"
You groan - actually groan - because he's making this difficult.
"I hate that look."
"What look?"
"That one."
"What one?"
"The one where you think you're winning."
Steve grins, slowly and confidently, like a man standing on the edge of victory.
Then you gently push him backwards. The grin vanishes instantly.
"It's too hot."
The devastation is immediate. Profound. Shakespearean.
"Baby."
"It's too hot."
"Baby."
"It's the hottest June day in years."
"I don't care."
"I do."
Steve drops his head backwards with a noise that should not be physically possible for a grown man to make. Somewhere between a sigh and a whine. The sound of a man watching his dreams crumble before his eyes.
You nearly cave. Honestly, you do. Because he's cute, and persistent, and looking at you like he's personally offended by the weather.
But then a bead of sweat slides down the back of your neck and reminds you exactly why this entire arrangement exists in the first place.
"No."
Steve closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and nods solemnly.
Then points accusingly towards the sky. "This is the weather's fault."
And for perhaps the hundredth time that day, you find yourself laughing at him.
By day three, Steve becomes proactive. Dangerously proactive.
You discover this when you walk into the bedroom after lunch and immediately stop dead in the doorway.
For a moment, you genuinely aren't sure what you're looking at.
The bedroom appears to have undergone some sort of hostile takeover.
Fans. Everywhere.
Not one or two. Not a sensible number.
Fans. An absurd number of fans.
There are fans on the bedside tables. Fans on the chest of drawers. A fan balanced on a chair that definitely wasn't designed to hold one. Another perched in the corner. One near the window. One near the wardrobe.
Possibly more. You lose count somewhere around six.
Every single one of them is pointed directly at the bed.
The combined noise is staggering. The room sounds less like a bedroom and more like the engine room of a moderately sized aircraft.
You stand there staring. The fans continue roaring.
In the middle of it all stands Steve, arms folded across his chest, looking so proud of himself it's almost offensive.
"What," you say slowly, "is this?"
Steve's smile widens immediately. "A solution."
You glance around again. The fans continue blasting air from every conceivable direction. One of them is oscillating aggressively. Another appears to be vibrating slightly. You're fairly certain the electricity bill is about to become a criminal offence.
"You did all this today?"
"Yep."
"You bought all these today?"
"Yep."
You look at the nearest fan. Then another. Then another. Then back at Steve.
"This cost money."
"It was an investment."
"Steve."
"A worthwhile investment."
"You bought six fans."
"I bought seven."
The correction arrives immediately, proudly, like he's expecting praise.
You laugh before you can stop yourself, and Steve looks deeply offended.
"You're laughing."
"You bought seven fans."
"Because I care."
"Our bedroom sounds like an airport runway."
"Because I care."
Unfortunately, the worst part is that it actually works.
The room is noticeably cooler. Not cold, not comfortable, but significantly less awful than the rest of the house. Enough that you find yourself lingering.
Enough that Steve notices immediately. The look on his face becomes dangerous, hopeful, the sort of hopeful that has repeatedly got him into trouble this week.
"You know," he says casually, "the bed's pretty cool now."
You narrow your eyes and Steve smiles the least trustworthy smile you've ever seen.
Ten minutes later, despite your better judgement, you're both sprawled across the bed. The fans continue roaring around you. The room is cool enough that you're actually touching for the first time in days without immediately wanting to peel your own skin off.
And honestly? You've missed this - missed him - missed the easy intimacy of being close without worrying about overheating.
Steve's hand slides into your hair, and your fingers curl into his shirt. The tension that's been building all week starts unravelling all at once - slowly, naturally, inevitably.
The kisses become longer, softer, then not so soft. The sort that makes you forget what you were talking about halfway through a sentence. The sort that leaves Steve looking increasingly pleased with himself.
Because after three days of rejection, three days of failed schemes and dramatic sighing and weather-related suffering, he can practically taste victory.
For one glorious minute, Steve genuinely believes he's won.
Then you pull back.
Not because you've changed your mind. But because you're laughing, hard, immediately. The kind of laughter that arrives out of nowhere and refuses to stop.
Steve blinks, confused and slightly offended.
"What?"
You point helplessly towards the nearest fan. Or rather, towards the collective noise of all seven.
The room sounds ridiculous. The kissing had distracted you from it momentarily, but now it's impossible to ignore.
Steve says something. You don't hear a word.
"What?"
He repeats himself. Still nothing. You laugh harder, tears beginning to form at the corners of your eyes.
Steve props himself up on one elbow. "What?"
You catch approximately half of the word, the rest disappearing into the mechanical roar surrounding you.
The absurdity of it all hits at once. The seven fans, the fact that he'd apparently spent actual money on this, the fact that he'd transformed your bedroom into a wind tunnel in pursuit of sex.
You bury your face in the pillow laughing.
Steve finally realises what's happening, and the betrayal on his face is immediate.
"Oh, come on."
"What?"
"I said-"
The fan nearest the bed chooses that exact moment to rattle loudly, and you lose it entirely.
Steve drops backwards onto the mattress with a groan, an actual groan - long, frustrated, deep enough that it cuts through even the fan noise.
You immediately point at him. "There!"
"What?"
"That!"
"What?"
"That's exactly what I mean."
Steve looks baffled.
You grin. "I can't hear all the pretty noises you make."
For a second, he just stares. Then his eyes close. His head drops backwards. And another groan leaves him - even longer this time, even more dramatic - the exact sound you'd been talking about.
Which unfortunately only makes you laugh harder.
Steve, meanwhile, lies in the centre of his self-constructed cooling system wondering how, despite spending an entire afternoon planning the perfect solution, he has somehow managed to lose yet again.
By the time you eventually leave the room still giggling, he's genuinely considering whether the weather itself might be sentient.
Because at this point, it's starting to feel personal.
By day four, Steve is desperate.
Not in a dignified way. Not in a way that future generations would look back upon with admiration.
By day four, Steve Harrington has entered a deeply concerning phase of the heatwave. A phase characterised by increasingly elaborate plans, questionable decision-making, and the unwavering belief that if he just thinks hard enough, he'll eventually discover a loophole.
You discover this shortly after your shower.
The house is still warm despite the sun beginning to sink. Your hair is damp from the water, a towel draped around your shoulders as you wander down the hallway, enjoying the rare feeling of not being overheated for approximately five consecutive minutes.
Then Steve's voice drifts in through the open back door.
"Baby? Can you come here?"
Immediately suspicious. Not enough for you to be alarmed or concerned. Just suspicious. Because you've spent enough time with Steve Harrington to recognise the tone he uses when he's trying very hard to sound casual about something. The tone itself is casual. The effort behind it is not.
You follow the sound outside.
And stop.
For a moment, you're genuinely speechless.
The garden has been transformed. Not professionally or even particularly elegantly, but with an amount of earnest determination that's honestly quite endearing.
A blanket has been spread across the grass. Fairy lights hang overhead, strung between fence posts in slightly uneven lines. Candles flicker inside old jam jars arranged around the edges of the blanket. Somewhere nearby, a portable speaker is quietly playing music. The last of the evening sunlight is fading beyond the rooftops, leaving everything bathed in that soft golden-blue light that only seems to exist for a few minutes each day.
And standing in the middle of it all is Steve.
Looking so hopeful it nearly breaks your heart.
For a second, all the teasing disappears. Because it's sweet. Ridiculously sweet. The sort of sweet that only happens when somebody has spent far too much time thinking about how to make you smile.
Steve shifts awkwardly when he notices you've stopped speaking, suddenly self-conscious, which somehow makes it even worse.
"I thought..." He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck. "Well, it's cooler outside than inside."
You glance around.
To be fair, it is. The heatwave has finally loosened its grip slightly. A gentle breeze moves through the garden. The air feels lighter than it has all week.
Steve gestures vaguely around him.
"There's a breeze and everything."
"A breeze?"
"Yeah."
His confidence begins returning.
"A pretty good breeze, actually."
"Oh, a pretty good breeze?"
"Maybe even an excellent breeze."
You laugh, and Steve's shoulders immediately relax, encouraged and dangerous.
"I just figured maybe we'd sit out here for a bit."
"Steve."
"Maybe enjoy the evening."
"Steve."
"Maybe enjoy each other."
There it is. Finally. The real agenda.
Steve looks far too pleased with himself.
You stare at him for a moment. At the fairy lights, the blanket, the candles, the sheer commitment.
Then you cross the garden. Quickly, before he can say anything else, before he can ruin the moment by continuing to talk.
Your hands find his face. His eyes widen.
And then you're kissing him.
Hard. Immediate. Every bit of affection and frustration and longing that's been building for the past four days suddenly condensed into one moment.
Steve makes a noise that sounds suspiciously triumphant.
His hands find your waist instantly, pulling you closer. The kiss deepens, the breeze shifts around you, the fairy lights glow softly overhead.
And for one glorious, beautiful moment, Steve genuinely believes he's done it.
Finally. Victory. At long last. The curse is broken. The drought is over. The kingdom is restored.
Then you pull away.
The confusion on his face is immediate. Devastating, really. Like watching somebody lose a raffle they were absolutely convinced they'd already won.
"Baby."
"No."
"Baby."
"No."
"Come on."
You laugh despite yourself.
Steve, meanwhile, looks moments away from writing a strongly worded letter to the weather.
"You kissed me."
"I did."
"Very enthusiastically."
"I did."
"And now you're saying no?"
You reach up and gently tilt his chin upwards. Towards the neighbouring houses. Towards the row of upstairs windows overlooking the gardens. Towards the very clear view that several innocent bystanders currently have of Steve's carefully constructed romantic masterpiece.
Realisation dawns.
Briefly, very briefly, then vanishes again.
Honestly, at this point Steve no longer cares. Four days is a long time. A very long time. The man is operating almost entirely on hope and determination.
He squints at the neighbour's window, then shrugs.
"Maybe they're not home."
You stare. Steve stares back.
"That's your solution?"
"It's not a bad solution."
"Steve."
"We could take the risk."
You laugh so hard you nearly double over.
The expression on his face becomes increasingly wounded.
Eventually, you lean forward and press a quick kiss to his cheek. Then another, softer this time. Apologetic and affectionate. Enough to remind him that he isn't actually losing. Just waiting.
"I'm sorry, honey."
Steve lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like genuine heartbreak. The kind of noise usually associated with tragic romances and historical disasters.
"As soon as the heatwave passes."
For a moment he simply stares at you. Then at the sky. Then back at you. As though attempting to determine exactly how much longer this weather intends to torment him personally.
Finally, he sighs. Long, suffering, dramatic enough to deserve its own award.
And as you disappear back towards the house, leaving him standing amongst the fairy lights and candles and increasingly unnecessary romantic gestures, Steve finds himself wondering whether five days can legally count as cruel and unusual punishment.
You wake on the fifth morning to the soft, steady sound of rain tapping against the bedroom window.
For a few blissfully disorienting seconds, you don't understand why you feel different. Then it hits you all at once.
You're comfortable. Actually comfortable.
Not half-awake and sweating through the sheets. Not tangled in blankets you've spent the entire night kicking away from your body. Not desperately searching for the cool side of the pillow every twenty minutes. For the first time in what feels like forever, the room feels pleasant. The air is cool. The mattress isn't radiating heat. Even the duvet, pulled loosely over your legs, feels cosy rather than oppressive.
Outside, the rain continues falling in a gentle, steady rhythm that would ordinarily make you want to stay in bed all morning.
Today, however, something else catches your attention.
Steve.
You turn your head and find him still asleep beside you, sprawled across the mattress in the careless way only Steve Harrington can manage. His hair is sticking up in approximately six different directions. One arm is trapped beneath his pillow. His mouth is slightly open. After four straight days of increasingly dramatic suffering, he looks suspiciously peaceful.
Completely unaware that the heatwave is finally over.
The sight makes something warm settle quietly in your chest.
Because the truth is, you've missed this too.
Not sex, necessarily.
Well. Not just that.
You've missed him.
Missed the easy closeness that usually exists between you. Missed curling into his side without immediately overheating. Missed waking up tangled together instead of separated by several feet of mattress and a mutual desire not to spontaneously combust.
For nearly a week, every touch has felt brief. Every kiss has ended with somebody laughing about the weather. Every moment has been interrupted by heat, sweat, neighbours, fans, or some other obstacle determined to test Steve's patience.
And somehow, through all of it, he'd never once stopped looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
The thought makes you smile.
Carefully, you shift closer.
Steve doesn't wake immediately, but he does make a soft noise in the back of his throat and instinctively moves towards you, even in his sleep. Your fingertips brush lightly across his jaw, tracing the familiar stubble there before drifting along his cheek. Then his shoulder. Then the curve of his neck.
Within seconds, his eyelashes begin to flutter. Slowly, sleepily, his eyes crack open. And the moment he sees you, he smiles. Not the cocky smile. Not the teasing one. The soft one. The sleepy one. The one that always feels like being let in somewhere private.
"Hey," he murmurs.
You don't answer.
Instead, you lean forward and kiss him.
The smile disappears immediately.
Replaced by surprise.
Then delight.
Steve's hand finds your waist before he's even fully awake, pulling you closer as he kisses you back. The rain continues tapping softly against the window. The room remains cool. Comfortable. Quiet.
For the first time all week, there are no fans roaring in the background.
No neighbours overlooking the garden.
No excuses.
Just the two of you.
When you finally pull back, Steve blinks up at you for a moment as though trying to process what's happening.
Then his eyes narrow slightly.
Suspicious.
"Baby?"
"Yeah?"
A pause.
"The heatwave's over," you giggle.
Steve, meanwhile, looks genuinely emotional.
"You have no idea how happy that just made me."
You kiss him again before he can continue complaining about the previous four days.
And this time, neither of you is in any hurry to stop.
You swing your leg over his hip, pulling him closer, and immediately feel the effect it has on him. A low groan escapes him as he presses against you, the sound swallowed by your kiss. After nearly a week of stolen glances, failed attempts, and endless frustration, the tension between you feels almost unbearable. The moment he rolls his hips against yours, his eyes flutter shut.
"Fuck, baby," he murmurs against your mouth, voice rough with want. "Missed you so much."
A laugh escapes you, soft and breathless. "I think I've got some idea."
The teasing only seems to make things worse for him. His hands slide down to the backs of your thighs, encouraging you onto his lap with a desperation that borders on endearing. The second you settle over him, another helpless sound leaves his throat.
"Oh, so this is what you wanted, huh?" you murmur against his skin, trailing kisses from his jaw down to his neck.
His answer arrives as a sharp exhale and a roll of his hips. "God, yes."
For a few moments, neither of you seems capable of doing anything except enjoying the simple fact of finally being close again. You shift on his lap, pressing down enough to relieve some of the pressure that had been building all week. Your fingers disappear into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging lightly as his hands settle firmly at your waist, guiding your movements. Every touch feels heightened after days of avoiding exactly this.
When you moan into the kiss, he presses his lips against yours harder, spurred on by the pretty noises you're making for him. He's fully hard now, and you're dripping onto him, so much so that he can already feel his dick getting wet.
When you shift to climb off his lap, intent on tasting him after so long, his grip tightens immediately.
"Not now, baby. Need you. Need to feel you. Please." His voice is almost pleading.
The sincerity of it makes your chest ache.
You nod above him, sitting up on your knees to pull your underwear down, as he does the same with his boxers, so you're pressed skin-to-skin for the first time in days, and something about it feels unexpectedly emotional. Maybe it's because the heatwave had turned every touch into a negotiation. Maybe it's because you'd forgotten how much comfort existed in simple closeness. Whatever the reason, your heart is beating just as hard as his beneath your palms.
Steve watches you with an intensity that always leaves you slightly breathless. Even now, even after all this time together, you sometimes struggle to comprehend that he looks at you the way he does. Like you're something precious. Like he still can't quite believe you're real.
You grab onto his cock, and he hisses at the contact, while you line him up with your entrance, both of you letting out the same shaky breath as his head catches at your entrance. Slowly, you start to sink down onto him.
You both moan out, foreheads against one another's. Steve can't take his eyes off your face while you sink down. The way your mouth is open in a gasp, the way your eyebrows are scrunched up in pleasure.
He gives you a minute to adjust to him, eyes half-lidded as he simply takes you in. The effort of holding himself back is written across every line of his body.
“Fuck me,” you whisper against his neck. "Please, Steve."
That proves to be the last coherent thought either of you manages for a while. And Steve doesn't need to be told twice. Not after nearly a week without feeling you squeezing around him.
The rhythm that follows is steady at first, neither of you in any hurry after waiting so long. Steve's hands never seem to settle anywhere for long, constantly moving as though he's trying to reassure himself you're actually here. Your shoulders. Your waist. The curve of your back. Every touch feels affectionate as much as desperate. You dig your fingertips into his shoulders, moaning out as he mouths at the space between your breasts, looking up at you with nothing short of adoration.
You start bouncing on his cock, meeting him as he thrusts up into you, and his head falls back against the headboard, moaning out at the feeling of your pussy gripping his cock so good.
The praise comes naturally to him, spilling out between kisses and breathless laughter. Every time he hears one of those sounds leave your mouth, his expression softens, as though he's hearing something beautiful.
"That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs, eyes fixed on yours. "Just like that."
You keep up your pace as you grind your clit against his pubic bone with every downward movement. The feeling is so divine, you can't help the whines you let out. You're too lost in it to even really notice.
Steve stares up at your beautiful, blissed-out face, and in seconds he's pulling you off him, gently but firmly guiding you onto your stomach on the bed, face turned sideways on the pillow, and he's kneeling between your legs.
He gropes at your ass, spreading your cheeks to admire your dripping pussy, before pushing back into you.
He loves fucking you like this. You always go soft and boneless when he's fucking you from behind, his cock reaching so deep inside you at this angle that all you can do is grip onto the bedsheets and take the pleasure he's giving you.
Within minutes, you're right on the edge. You don't need to tell Steve, he knows your body inside and out, and he can tell you're close before you can.
"You gonna cum, huh baby? That's it. Give it to me."
The look on his face is almost your undoing.
Not the desire. The adoration. The way he seems completely incapable of separating one from the other.
Just like that, you're falling apart on his cock. Your legs quiver around his as your chest pushes into the mattress, your back arching, forcing your ass up further into the air, further onto his cock.
He can't hold himself back much longer when he feels you cum around him. Your pussy fluttering around his cock, pulsing, clenching, so warm and wet, has him right on the edge.
"Where d'you want it, baby? Huh?" he's panting above you, both hands on your lower back, pushing you further into the mattress so he can push his cock deep inside you.
"Inside baby, please," you whine, breathlessly, fucked out. "Fill me up, Steve. Need to feel you."
That's all it takes.
He comes inside you with a guttural sound that comes from deep inside him. He pushes his hips flush against yours, determined to fill you up as much as possible, and you keen at the feeling of his warm spend filling you up.
"That's it, baby. Take it. That's it, sweetheart," he mutters above you, hips slowing to a deep grind as he rides out his orgasm, eventually slowing to a stop.
For a few seconds afterwards, neither of you moves.
Then Steve practically collapses on top of you, all warmth and loose limbs, his weight settling over you in the most familiar way imaginable.
The room is quiet except for the rain against the window and the sound of both of you trying to catch your breath.
Eventually, you break the silence.
"Holy shit."
A tired laugh rumbles through his chest.
"Holy shit."
Neither of you can stop smiling.
Later - much, much later - the rain is still falling steadily against the windows.
The sound drifts softly through the room, blending with the occasional creak of the house settling and the distant rumble of traffic somewhere beyond the neighbourhood. For the first time in nearly a week, the bedroom feels comfortable. Not stuffy. Not oppressive. Not one degree away from becoming unbearable. Just comfortable.
The kind of comfortable you'd spent five days wishing for.
Steve lies sprawled beside you, one arm wrapped securely around your waist, his chest warm against your back. The two of you have somehow ended up tangled together beneath the duvet again, something that would've been completely impossible forty-eight hours ago. Now, though, neither of you seems particularly interested in moving.
And for a while, neither of you says anything at all. You simply lie there enjoying the rare silence that follows a week of complaining. Because there had been a lot of complaining. Mostly from Steve.
Eventually, his fingers trace absent patterns against your side.
"Worth the wait."
The words are spoken directly into your shoulder.
You laugh immediately. A tired, content sort of laugh.
Steve presses a kiss there in response. Then another. Then one against your cheek when you turn your head towards him.
"Worth every second," he adds, sounding completely sincere.
You roll your eyes despite the smile threatening to take over your entire face.
"Really?"
"Absolutely."
"Even the seven fans?"
Steve groans.
"The kitchen counter?"
"The kitchen counter was a great idea."
"It was not."
"It was."
"The neighbours?"
Steve buries his face against your neck.
"The neighbours were an obstacle."
You laugh again, and the sound seems to settle naturally into the quiet room around you.
For a moment, neither of you speaks.
Then Steve squeezes you a little closer.
Not dramatically. Not possessively. Just instinctively. The way he always does.
Outside, the rain keeps falling. Inside, the house is finally cool. And as Steve presses one last sleepy kiss against your shoulder before settling further into the mattress, you realise that for perhaps the first time in five days, neither of you has anything left to complain about.
Which, for Steve Harrington, might actually be a miracle.
dividers: saradika-graphics
new taglist: @whispersoflost, @teheblue, @mr-joel-keeny, @je33123, @eller41, @bluehexagon8, @n4ina-07
hi omg I just found your page and I love your smut. Can you do a Joe x reader smut where they are only friends but one night after seeing a fashion show they both go back to a hotel and they just can’t hold back anymore pleaseeee?
Hold me back
joe keery x female!reader
summary — after tension building between you and joe on fashion week, one night you can’t resist but end up in his bed
warnings — best friends to lovers trope, teasing, paparazzi, flirting, joe only in a towel, slight masturbation (m and f), make out, nipple play, joe has big dick, unprotected p in v sex, talking through it, dirty talk, confession at the end. tell me if i missed something, english is not my first language, not proof read
author’s note — thank you for the request, once again sorry for the long wait 💕
ask me anything & requests are currently closed!
It is safe to say that you and Joe have been spending more time together than best friends usually do. Without any of you realizing that the together spent time was concerning at this point.
And going together to Paris, the most romantic city on earth, was not the best place to get through the tension.
But both of you were invited not long after Stranger Things come to an end and thought it would be fun and good for the internet if you two went together.
So now you were here in the hotel, you two had your bedrooms next to each other, but the only times you two were in different rooms was when it was night time.
And this definitely made some difficulties occur.
You two just landed and were about to walk out to the arrival hall, waiting for the security to secure all the fans.
When they finally cleared a path for you two, slowly walked out with fans screaming and calling you two’s names.
This wouldn’t mean much as both of you just smiled, waved or said hi to the fans as you headed to the door to get in the uber.
But something stuck with both of you, thise comments that sounded like—
“Are you two together OMG?-“
“Together? In Paris?”
“I’m pretty sure they fucked-“
The last one hitting your ears much, not even looking at Joe, and why? Because you guys did not. But there was this sexual tension between you two for a while now that could not be explained.
You were stunned as you looked down to not spill any reaction while Joe just looked back, searching for the person who said that for a second, but when people screamed at him having a reaction he quickly tilted his head back. Out of anger and embarrassment. Because god he wish.
As spoken earlier, you two were spending every time together, including getting ready almost together.
You had someone do your makeup and hair but you were asking Joe about which outfit you should pick.
“Yeah I love this, you could be a stylist!” You said while smiling and looking at the pieces you two choose.
“Only your stylist tho, I can dress you pretty well.” Maybe he didn’t mean it in a flirty way but it came out naturally as both of you froze for a minute.
You felt heat come up your cheeks as he stopped breathing for a minute not knowing what to do or say or how to function.
You finally spoke up. “Well, Imma get dressed now…” in a lower voice which Joe responded nothing with just looking at you for a minute.
“So…could you leave or—“ You looked at him now seeing he was looking at you the whole time and he finally came back to reality.
“What—yeah, yes! Leaving right…now!” He said as he with his clumsiness speed walked to the door to leave.
Before you could speak up he already closed the door.
When Joe arrived back into his place he just shut the door and and slammed himself to it trying to catch his brain the fuck back.
He was heated, flushed, but not only because of how much he has been in love with you for a few months now but also because while you were getting your clothes out to make him help you choose the one for tonight, he saw your packed underwear, lace fucking underwear in your suitcase.
So to cool himself down he ran to the shower and took a cool one, trying to calm his cock down by putting sone friction on it.
While this you got dressed, putting on extra care to make sure everything looked the way it should before you headed towards Joe’s room.
You didn’t think much of it as you just knocked and already opened the door.
“Joe what do you think-“ You asked, but no one was there, you walked more into the room, to his bed as you looked around but no one was seen. Here is the thing, Joe was already out of the shower so no sound cane from the bathroom either.
When he poked out himself you turned around the sound of door opening and your breath got caught in your lungs.
There he was, Joe, looking like a glazed donut.
His hair was wet, water dripping from it here and there, on his forehead to, going down his cheeks, going down his neck and veins that popped there, down to his chest. Not like you haven’t seen him without his shirt on before for when you guys went to the beach. But that was in groups, not in his hotel room just the two of you.
And not the mention his biceps and his little bely with his chest covered in hair. And one thing covering him — briefly — a fucking towel and nothing else.
Your heart definitely skipped a beat as you checked him out very intensely and your lips stayed parted after you tried to speak and take some air.
“I-“ You tried to form some words as Joe just had a little smile on his face.
“You look good, if that’s what you wanted to ask.” He spoke up and you were pulled back to some sense as you looked down at yourself, finally remembering why you came here on the first place.
“Ugh, thanks! You too?…” Joe couldn’t figure out fron your little smile and furrowed eyes if you meant it in a flirty way or not so before he could speak up you already headed towards the door but he was in your way.
You stopped in front of him, inches away, you could practically feel his breath on yours as you looked up into his eyes.
“Can I…” you showed your fingers towards the door and then to him to sign him to move.
“Sure.” He wasn’t stressed now, or mad or anything, he was just happy about the situation you accidentally created. He took a step to the side so you can squeeze yourself out. And so you did and you, just like him a few minutes ago, made a little run to your room.
When you finally arrived back to your accommodation, you felt yourself flushed, and catching for air as you felt your panties getting wetter.
“Fuck…”
Time went on, and night started falling as the show you were about to attend to was around the corner. You were done getting ready, fully all done, with your makeup, hair, accessories on and not to mention the outfit Joe picked for you.
You were pacing up and down in your room, texting your friend about what happened today.
The internet at the mean time was going lowkey feral about the airport video, even though it was not much.
Your stomach dropped when a knock was heard on your door, you went up to open it, it was maybe a fucking mistake.
There was Joe, in that fucking suit, his shirt buttoned down a little bit so his necklace and fucking chest hair was seen, and your eyes for a second had a flashback of that hair sticking to his skin after his shower—
“You ready to go?” He just asked casually as he checked you out.
“Yeah, yeah, let me get my back.” You answered heading to get your items.
The night was amazing and awful in the same time. The show was good, you two were interviewed separately but seated together, and that, that was torture.
His knees and thighs always touching yours due to lack of space, or his shoulders brushing yours.
Staying calm like that was hard, and you felt your stomach doing the thing every time he accidentally brushed his fingers on your legs and thighs with a “sorry” after it.
But Joe was moving a lot due to some, other friction, erection. The one he had since that moment in your room, and the one that just got worse as he saw you in that skirt and high heels, your shiny legs on full display.
He tried to move around, cause some release for himself and also to not have his dick being filmed while standing up because of you.
When you two made it back to the hotel, both exhausted, your heels now in your hands as they became insufferable. You two were standing st your doors.
“And here we are.” He said turning around to face you.
“Yeah, it was another great night, that green dress on the blonde girl? Oh my god, I need that for my next event.” You spoke his ear off the whole time the way back, and he loved it.
“You would rock it don’t worry.” He smiled at you before silence fell between you two, bringing his close friend, tension.
You caught yourself looking at his lips, that looked so soft and swollen to kiss and have between your own lips.
Joe caught himself looking at your lips, that looked glossy, plumped and tasty he needed to devour it.
“I…I think I should, you know, head back…”your soft voice spoke up, trying to end this staring contest.
“Yeah, me too…” he replied still looking at your features as you slowly stepped back and turned to your door.
“Goodnight.” You said before opening the door and sliding in before shutting it.
It has been an hour since you two said goodbye to each other, you were now only in an oversized shirt and panties, while Joe was laying on his bed too just like you with only his boxers on.
Both of you had the lack of tiredness, just staring at the ceiling. You had this intense tension in you that you found your hands wander down your body before reaching your underwear, and sliding your fingers in.
Your fingers sunk into your folds as you collected all the juices that were made by the tension of the day and when you came back to your swollen clit you sighed at the feeling.
You started rubbing it slowly first as your head fall back, your hips without wanting to, jerked up to get more friction. Your mouth was opened as small whimpers left your mouth as you touched yourself.
Your mind instantly going back to seeing Joe in his suit, and seeing him all wet with just a towel hiding his member.
As you worked on yourself you suddenly heard a knock on your door. You instantly looked up as pulled your fingers away from your pussy.
Another knock made you jump up, stopping in the bathroom, washing off your wetness before going to open the door.
There he was, Joe, in just boxers and now a shirt. He was flushed, heated and looked at you with desire.
You were there in just a shirt and underwear, you pussy throbbing and your cheeks flushed.
No words were said as he took one big step and pressed himself against you, finding your lips and taking it between yours.
The kiss was hungry, romantic, but also needy, it was confessing all the feelings that had been building up the last few months. You didn’t pull away just your grip on the door strengthened as you tried not to fall back. His arms found your waist pulling you towards him even more.
You kissed him back, but still let him take the lead as he pulled back.
“I tried to fight against it.” Then he kissed you again. “I thought I did-“ pulling away and then again on you “But hearing you making those sounds through the thin walls gosh-“ He admitted and you realized that maybe you were not so quiet as you thought.
Your hands finally gripped him, landing on his neck as he shut the door with his leg before guiding you against your bed while devouring your lips.
It was sloppy, wet and definitely loud. Like he has been waiting the whole time.
When he found your bed, he slowly pushed you down with his own body, being on top of you. His hand rested above your head now as his other hand started exploring your body.
You moaned into his kiss as you felt him squeeze your breast from under, cupping it through the fabric.
He pulled away, resting his nose and forehead against yours now.
His hand squeezed your breast once again before pulling away to go under the shirt and find your nipple.
“Fuck…Joe-“ you moaned with head falling back as he pinched your nipples, his cold fingers felt too good to be true.
“Tell me, were you thinking about me?” He asked as he was looking at your face.
“Yeah- of course I did!” You spilled as he twisted your nipple making you say it in a more pitched voice.
“What did I do to you? Tell me pretty girl.” It was not a question, it was a demand.
“You…fucked me and…Agh—kissed me all over and, played with my…body — oh fuck!” You explained your fantasies as he lowered his head, pulling your shirt up and sucking your nipple.
“Like this?” He asked pulling away for a second.
“Yes exactly—like this!” Your fingers found his hair, as you felt yourself clenching around nothing.
He finally fully pulled your shirt off, leaving you with only in panties, as you reached for his shirt too.
“These gotta go too.” You said before pulling it off him and your hands immediately landing on his chest, your fingers curling around his chest hair.
He kissed you again hard, as you were grabbing into his chest.
His hand wandered down your body to your underwear.
“Can I?” He politely still asked as if you didn’t just tell him your fantasies about him fucking you.
“Please..” you quietly begged.
His fingers slowly and teasingly pulled down your underwear before tossing it off the bed.
His fingers brushed through your folds. “You are so wet baby, all for me?” You just nodded to him, your eyes looking into his as you were biting down your lips to not moan at his fingers barely touching you, you were so turned on.
“Joe please just…”
“What babe, what do you want?”
“Just fuck me with your cock now!” You begged, you felt ashamed but your were throbbing after your little moment with yourself.
“Can’t deny a lady can I?” He replied while taking his boxer off. You were staring, his long veiny and thick cock sprang out, already flushed and red, with precum around it.
You reached out for it and as soon as your hands fall on it, Joe moaned.
“Fuck babe-“ he said as you started stroking him to spread the wetness, his head fall back.
“Okey babe, let me open you up now.” He stated as he guided himself to your entrance.
“Tell me to stop if anything is bad okey?” You nodded to it. “I need words honey.”
“Yeah okey!” You spoke up, just wanting to finally feel him.
He slowly pushed himself through your open and his tip slowly went further and further in you, both of you whimpered at the feeling, him fulling you, and your warmth around him.
When he finally pushed it all in he stopped as you felt every pulse of him and every veiny inside you.
“You can move…” you said as you finally relaxed around him.
He needed no more as he gently pulled out, with his tip only left in and then thrust back, making your lungs squeeze out every air.
“Fuck-“ you moaned as he started getting a rhyme up in fucking you.
“Fuck babe, this is all I have been able to think about, it’s all you! … Fucking you as you are moaning under me and grabbing into me.” He said leaning to your neck, your hand squeezing now his biceps before slowly making there way to his back.
“Were you thinking about me too?” You shyly asked.
“I have jerked off so many times thinking about your warmth fuck—even today in the shower before you saw me in just a towel and 40 minutes ago when we came back from the event.” He spilled his guts out into your ear while still pounding into you.
“Joe…” you moaned as he started hitting that one soft spot that made your eyes roll back.
“Yeah, keep moaning my name—“ he whimpered against you.
“Go harder—!” You screamed as you felt the knot in your stomach getting bigger and bigger.
Joe started slamming into you harder, skin hitting skin so much and so hard it was probably red. The room smelled of sex as all could be heard were your moans with Joe’s whimpers and fucked up breathing with the skin slapping and your pussy being soaked.
“Don’t stop fuck—“ You moaned out as your nails dragged down his back, probably leaving some marks. This feeling had Joe’s dick twitch inside you as he moaned.
“Come around my cock, I need to feel you losing it all for me.” He whispered close into you ear, his breath hitting another pleasure in you.
Your pussy started pulsing and sucking around him as you felt your orgasm close.
Your hands flew to your clit, just like it did earlier and put friction on it and that was all you needed, your orgasm clashed over you, as you screamed out Joe’s name multiple times.
Those actions also took Joe over the edge as he spilled inside you, moaning your name into your ear.
He thrusted you two through the high before slowing down and stopping fully but now pulling out.
He raised his head and looked at you, getting a hair stuck on your forehead out of the way and tugging it behind your ear.
“Are you okey?” He questioned.
“More than okey.” You just smiled at him. Before he called your name.
“…I love you. I have been for a while now.” He confessed as he just hoped you loved him back.
No answer came from you, just you pulling him down to capture him with your lips. It was gentle, soft and romantic.
“I love you too.” You replied after pulling away from the kiss.
And something that night in Paris, changed forever for the better.
this and also the only difference between fanfic writers and writers who sell their own original works as careers is that fanfics aren’t monetized. that’s all.
being a “professional” writer doesn’t mean your works are inherently better than fanfics. I’ve read so many fics that are more professionally written than some published books.
whether or not a piece of writing is monetized has nothing to do with its quality.
Hot take but perhaps Percy Weasley would not have fallen so easily into the clutches of a corrupt ministry, eager for approval and recognition, if he had not spent his entire formative years being mocked and ridiculed by the people who were supposed to love him
this and also the only difference between fanfic writers and writers who sell their own original works as careers is that fanfics aren’t monetized. that’s all.
being a “professional” writer doesn’t mean your works are inherently better than fanfics. I’ve read so many fics that are more professionally written than some published books.
whether or not a piece of writing is monetized has nothing to do with its quality.
