we'll be alright

Full time fangirl :) Send in requests please!! obx, mcu, tasm, cm, hp, st

[love-hs28]

Masterlist

I'll come back to update this every time I make a post!

OBX

JJ Maybank

You're the strongest person I've ever known JJ’s had another fight with his dad and needs some comfort and help cleaning up. hurt/comfort

Give me the chance to explain You had been giving JJ the silent treatment all day and he can’t figure out why. It only takes you accidentally hurting yourself while cleaning for the two of you to see eye-to-eye. angst/hurt/comfort

Catch me if I fall You learn the hard way that alcohol and an empty stomach don’t work well together, and adding partying to that mix was probably not a good idea. Don’t worry though, JJ is there to catch you when you fall. comfort

Your camera roll dating JJ Maybank

Under the Stars You and JJ lay on the boat one night, in your own little world a few feet away from the rest of the group. JJ kept you company, though, by making up ridiculous stories about constellations. fluff

Your camera roll dating JJ Maybank pt. 2

Your Camera roll dating JJ Maybank pt. 3

MCU

Peter Parker

Late Night and Close Calls You and Peter sneak a bottle of champagne from one of your dad’s - Tony Stark’s - parties at the Avengers Tower. Giggling and hanging out in your room, one quiet moment leads to you almost confessing your feelings to your best friend. fluff

Your camera roll dating Peter Parker

Your camera roll as Tony Stark's daughter

TASM

Peter Parker

You can let it out, I'm right here Having to stay after school for Chemistry help wasn't the most ideal situation to be in after having a bad day. And coming home to Peter being so nice makes it almost impossible to hold your emotions in. hurt/comfort

You need to rest. And relax. And come lay with me. A long, exhausting day of work means you hadn't had time to eat anything all day. The consequences of this catch up to you while at home with Peter, but thankfully, he's there to catch you, just like always. hurt/comfort

You need to be more careful. I can only help you so much. Your roommate Peter comes home to your shared apartment late one night, more beaten up than you've ever seen him before. You patch him up and give him a lecture about being more careful; a conversation that leads to you confessing more than you had meant to. hurt/comfort/angst/happy ending

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington

Thank you, this is all I needed. You come home to Steve having a rough night, but all he needs is a few sweet moments with you to make up for his awful day. hurt/comfort

I hope you're ready to lose, Harrington. A competitive game of beer pong with Steve leads you to become a bit drunk, but the best kind; giggly, playful, and flirty. And Steve, of course, knows exactly how to take care of you when this. fluff

Eddie Munson

You're gonna do just fine, I promise. Chemistry class had never been your strong-suit, and an upcoming test leads you to break down while trying to study an impossible unit. hurt/comfort & fluff

Under the Spotlight Corroded Coffin was playing a massive gig tonight, and you, the drummer, were feeling an unusual sense of stage fright. Eddie, of course, was thankfully there to talk you down from it. hurt/comfort & fluff

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 (𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐈𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞)

Parings → Peter Parker x Stark! Reader

Warnings → Language, secondhand embarrassment, Crack, horny, chaotic.

Summary → It all started with a HYDRA gas grenade and ended with you telling the Avengers about your sex life.   

It all started with a HYDRA gas grenade and ended with you telling the Avengers that Peter Parker has a praise kink.

You should’ve just stayed in bed.

---

The serum was supposed to be used on enemies for interrogation. HYDRA apparently thought they were clever, trying out a new airborne version. You and Peter were just trying to help evacuate civilians when the damn thing went off.

Bruce said it was “a temporary serum that disrupts the brain’s verbal filter.”

Translation? Every thought you had? Now it came out of your mouth. Immediately. Loudly. In public. In front of Peter.

And your dad.

And the entire. Freaking. Avengers team.

---

“Okay,” Bruce said as he looked at his tablet, already sweating. “I’m working on an antidote. Just… stay calm. Don’t try to resist the serum. That’ll only make it worse.”

You nodded. “Right. Don’t think about anything stupid. Just breathe. Don’t panic. Don’t think about how good Peter looked shirtless last night when he- OH MY GOD!”

Your hands clapped over your mouth like they were trying to choke the words back in. Peter, sitting beside you, froze like someone had unplugged his soul.

Tony nearly dropped his coffee.

“…Is there a mute button on this thing?” He asked Bruce, mildly horrified.

“No,” Bruce muttered. “And she’s at the peak dosage. Anything she thinks, she says.”

“Great,” you whined. “Perfect. Someone please shut me up. Kill me. Actually kill me.”

“Uh,” Peter tried, his voice three octaves higher than normal. “I-It’s okay! You’ll be okay. J-Just try not to think too hard.”

You whipped your head toward him, eyes wide. “Try not to think too hard? You try not to think too hard. You’re the one who moaned my name last night like a fucking porn star- oh my GOD NO NO NO WHY AM I STILL TALKING.”

“NOPE.” Tony spun around and pointed at Bruce. “You better cook up an antidote right the hell now, Banner. I am not emotionally equipped to hear my daughter talk about anything involving moaning.”

Bruce was already frantically typing.

Peter was bright red and looked like he wanted to throw himself into another universe.

Clint was grinning. “This is better than Netflix.”

Natasha smirked. “Honestly, I always suspected this two had some kind of kinky thing going.”

“Oh no no no,” you groaned, slumping into your hands. “Please. No one listen to me. Don’t believe anything I say. I’m a pathological liar.”

“Too late,” Steve muttered. “It’s seared into my brain now.”

You gasped. “Oh my god. I can’t stop! That means I’m going to say everything. EVERYTHING. Including the thing Peter wanted to do to me in front of the mirror and- fucking hell someone knock me out. Hit me with a frying pan or a truck or something!”

Peter squeaked.

Tony looked physically ill. “I need bleach. For my ears. And probably my soul.”

Thor, meanwhile, clapped Peter on the back hard enough to nearly send him flying. “You are bold, young one! No shame in pleasure shared.”

Peter made a noise like a dying mouse.

You tried to stand, panic rising, but your mouth kept going. “You know, the first time he used his web-shooters in bed, I thought it’d be gross but it was actually so hot, and then-”

“STOP.” Peter covered your mouth with both hands. “I’m so sorry. I’m so so so sorry.”

You licked his palm.

He screamed and yanked his hands back like you were made of lava.

“I didn’t mean to!” You cried. “But I thought about it, and now it happened! I hate this!”

Bruce groaned. “I need more time. Maybe an hour if I can synthesize from the residue.”

“We don’t have an hour,” Tony snapped. “At this rate she’s gonna start describing everything!”

“Oh god,” you whimpered. “Should I mention the toy? Should I talk about the vibrating toy I bought- OH GOD WHY DID I SAY THAT- ”

Peter made a noise again. A short, strangled one. You risked a glance and caught him clenching his fists like he was trying not to implode.

You looked at him, wild-eyed. “I’m so sorry! But also you liked it! You said my moaning turned you on more than you seeing me naked!”

“Okay—THAT’S ENOUGH,” Peter snapped, suddenly standing. “I’m taking her out of here.”

Tony squinted. “Where exactly are you taking her, Parker!?”

“Away!” Peter yelled, voice cracking as he scooped you up bridal-style. “Somewhere far away from all of you and your smug faces!”

“You’re all invited to the wedding!” You shouted over his shoulder. “We’re gonna have a sex swing!”

Tony collapsed into a chair. “I need a therapist.”

---

Peter's Room : 15 Minutes Later

He’d thrown the door shut and dropped you onto the bed like you were ticking dynamite. You flopped back and groaned into a pillow.

“Peter,” you whined. “It won’t stop. Every time I try to think not sexy, I just think of you, and then I think of that sound you made when I sat on your face, and- GODDAMMIT!”

“Okay,” he wheezed. “I’m gonna explode.”

“No exploding!” You gasped. “That’ll just make me say more things! I’ll tell them you cried after I came the first time and it was really sweet but also kind of hot because-”

Peter pounced.

Your back hit the mattress. His hand slapped over your mouth again- but this time, his hips were between your thighs, his breath hot against your cheek.

“You. Are. Driving. Me. Crazy,” he growled.

You moaned into his palm.

He removed it. “Sorry, I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t touch you like this when you’re not in control of your mouth- ”

“I’m not drunk,” you panted. “Just cursed with truth. So you absolutely can rail me if you want to. You have full consent.”

He made the decision.

Mouths crashed. Hands tangled. Your hips lifted and met his. The serum was still working- and now it was making you narrate.

“Fuck, you’re so hard. I love how desperate you get. Like the time you asked me to ride your thigh and I called you good boy and you came in your pants- ”

“OH MY GOD- ”

“Peter,” you moaned, grinding up. “I wanna come on your fingers while you whisper in my ear.”

He choked on his own breath.

You kept going. “I want you to edge me for hours until I’m crying. I want you to tie me up with your webs and then tell me how good I am while you-”

His mouth found your throat. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“And I want to die like this,” you gasped. “Full of you. Wrecked. Broken. Absolutely ruined.”

Peter groaned. “You’re getting it.”

He didn’t stop until your brain short-circuited into stutters and moans.

Your mouth finally stopped running- but only because it was too busy moaning his name over and over.

---

Avengers Tower : 1 Hour Later

Bruce held up a syringe like it was the Holy Grail. “Antidote’s ready!”

Peter walked into the lab looking freshly wrecked- shirt all wrinkly, lips red and swollen, curls messy. You were latched onto his hoodie like it was bulletproof armor against the shame.

Bruce approached you gently, like someone might approach a bomb with a very short fuse. “This will take effect in about… 90 seconds. Just hold still.”

You nodded. “Okay. Just ninety seconds. I can do that. I won’t say anything. I won’t. I’ll think of algebra. Equations. Taxes. Daddy. NO! Not daddy in that context- ”

Peter groaned and buried his face in your shoulder.

“Okay, injecting now…” Bruce muttered.

The serum slid into your bloodstream.

You stared straight ahead. “Be cool. Be normal. Don’t think of Peter’s tongue. Or his hands. Or the way he said ‘Good girl’ and it made you wetter than a swimming pool and- ”

Everyone flinched.

“Bruce,” Tony barked. “Speed that up.”

“It needs to metabolize naturally!”

You kept going.

“Oh god. Are people gonna smell sex on me? I feel like people can smell things. Thor has god-nose, right? Oh god, Thor’s gonna smell that Peter went down on me for twenty minutes- ”

Thor gave you a slow nod of approval.

“BRUCE.”

“I CAN’T RUSH SCIENCE, TONY.”

Peter whimpered. “Why is she so detailed?”

“I’m a Stark, we overshare!” You yelled. “It’s genetic!”

Clint coughed into his hand. “Honestly, I’ve learned more about their sex life in ten minutes than I know about my own.”

You turned to Peter with wide, panicked eyes. “Is your back okay? I kind of scratched it a lot. You were making that face- you know, the one you make right before you- ”

“OKAY,” Bruce interrupted, scanning you. “Cognitive patterns are stabilizing. She should be back to normal… now.”

You blinked.

Then suddenly stopped talking.

Then screamed.

Peter clutched you like a lifeline.

You groaned into his chest. “Oh god. I said all that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Every. Damn. Word,” Tony muttered, handing you a glass of water like a weary nurse. “Please never speak again.”

“Seconded,” Steve said.

“Thirded,” Natasha added. “Also- kind of impressed.”

Bruce looked exhausted. “You’re cured. Now please go be horny somewhere else.”

You whimpered. “I want to die. Peter, let’s move to another dimension.”

Peter, red as a tomato, kissed your forehead. “Only if I get to pick the safeword.”

You groaned.

Clint fake gagged. “I hate it here.”

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

Tags:

@sir-this-is-a-wendys @amarawayne @words-to-accomplish-something @moniffazictress11 @love-hs28 @lightgreysoul @desiredwebs @peterparkersgirlfriend1 @user77091025 @jennaang @anonymousprettygirl @dayastarkorwtvr @cherriies-snake @imobsessedzs @theonlymads1 @moqnqr @cheriip1estarblog @tramm123jjj @deadangelswings @azerbennettwarnerriorson007 @hoax-of-light @rlanar @cinammom-krunch @manifestingandrewgarfield

[random-ly-obssessed]

Peter Parker

Stark!daughter

BRINGING BACK OLD MARVEL FICS OKAY?!?! IS THAT ALRIGHT WITH YOU FUCKERS?!

Swearing, kissing, banter heavy, pretending i'm smart 😍

SMUT: groping, nipple sucking, uhh touching dick under clothes, pinv, unprotected sex

set in like first year of college

I got the text at 11:09 P.M., looking out of my window after seeing the 'here' on screen to see Peter on the side of the building. My eyes widened a bit and I quickly got up from my couch, rushing over as quietly as I could. I had no doubt that Bucky could hear us, Steve too probably, but I didn't tell my dad about them, so they didn't tell him about Peter and I either.

"I do have a front door." I say after opening the window as best as I could, Peter opening it the rest of the way with ease. He climbed in skillfully, feet hitting the floor without noise. I reached to shut the window, which unfortunately came crashing down with a loud thud. The glass was thick, so luckily, it didn't shatter, but my heart sure did when Peter dropped to the ground just as my intercom rang.

"What was that?" My dad's voice came through.

"I was trying to get air, but the window was too heavy for me, sorry." I lie awkwardly. It was a believable lie, I wasn't exactly a superhero like my father, or boyfriend, no superhuman strength to help me out with windows.

"The hell do you need air for? Your AC is filtered for the freshest air ever."

"Oh my gosh, sometimes I want to breathe actual fresh air."

"The 'fresh air' outside? Filled with smoke, weed, and other illicit drugs? One whiff of the air out there and you're high. Are you trying to get high?"

"Goodnight, dad."

"Baby's first drug test tomorrow." He coos.

I roll my eyes, disconnecting the comm and turning to Peter, who was sprawled on the floor.

"...Have you been frozen in that position this whole time?" I snort as he stands up.

"Shush, I got nervous he might see me." He pulled off his mask, his hair a messy array of curls.

"I don't have cameras in here."

"Ah, but if you did, would you know?"

"Please don't put that thought in my head. Dad promised there weren't any." I sigh, running my fingers through his hair, smiling when he practically melts into me. It was cute until he legitimately stumbled forward, catching himself and standing up straighter.

"Tired?" I ask sarcastically, watching him blush in slight embarrassment.

"I've been up working on stuff for school."

"AKA, you've been up messing with your web shooters."

He huffs, deciding better to tell the truth. "I'm really perfecting the fluid, it's going to be a thicker consistency but not thick enough to actually interfere with the flow of things—but enough for it to be stronger."

"Maybe we don't talk about your thick flowing fluid." I hum, making his nose scrunch at my wording.

"You make everything sound dirty."

"I think that just means you're super horny for me." I shrug.

"Right." He smiles, blushing.

"How's May?" I ask, changing the subject.

"She's good. She went out with that new guy again, last night."

"That's their..third?"

He nods. "I think she's interested."

"I'd hope so. I usually cut off first dates whenever I lost interest."

"Did you do that with me?"

"Depends, what qualifies as our first date?" I ask, his arms finding their way around my waist and mine wrapping around his neck.

"Definitely not the fight with Cap and your dad."

"Yeah, that was our meet cute." I muse.

"Maybe our first date was here? Movie night when Clint fell out of that vent."

"Still can't believe he tried to watch the movie through the metal grate." I sigh. "And no, 'date' between us. I'd argue it was at Morton's."

"That was not our first date. That was a hangout." He scoffs.

"What? It was so date-y! You came by after school, we talked for like three hours."

"You paid!"

"A woman can pay." I arch a brow.

"Yeah, but, I dunno. Made me feel weird."

"Mm, but I like spoiling you."

He sighs, blush rising to his cheeks. "I hate it."

"You hate it actually or you hate that you're expected to do it and you can't."

"Both? I guess." He said after a moment of deliberation.

"You know I like to pay for things right?"

"I know, I've heard Mr. Stark rip into you many-a-time about your addiction."

I roll my eyes. "It's not an addiction, it's...my happy place."

"I think that's the main message of that romcom we watched last week."

"Confessions of a Shopaholic, great movie." I muse. "And I'm not that bad. I'd never buy half of what she did, fashion back then was too gaudy for my taste."

"Right, minimalism is all the rage now, how could I forget?"

I roll my eyes "Okay, okay; so where was our first date?"

"Do you remember the rooftop? When we watched the sunset?" He inquired.

"The one where you yapped my ear off for six hours? I'm recalling." His mouth twitched.

"I think that was it."

"We kissed that night though, do we really want to have kissed on the first date?"

"I didn't mind it." He hummed.

"Obviously, I'm an excellent kisser."

"Oh, are you?"

"Have you forgotten?" I scoff, grinning.

"I might need a refresher." He murmurs.

"Well, who am I to not help someone with arthritis."

"It's amnesia." He snorts before pulling me into a kiss. Any embarrassment I'd had from my slip up was immediately washed away when his suited up fingers tangled in my hair. I ran my fingers through his, tugging gently and smiling into the kiss when he groaned.

I swiped my tongue across his bottom lip, kissing him languidly when he hesitantly let me in. He moaned into my mouth before pulling away and tugging on his suit, starting to slide it off.

"Not as hot seeing the process of you getting it off." I hum, watching him struggle.

"Please don't be mean, I'm being super vulnerable now." He huffs, kicking the last of the suit away before flopping onto my bed. I slid out of my shirt, following after him, leaving me in my bra and him in his briefs. His hands were immediately on the hook of my bra and I huffed a chuckle.

"Eager?" I muse.

"Haven't got to touch you in how long?" He huffs.

"Your own fault, shouldn't have taken that extra credit class that offers exactly what you're doing here with my dad already." I chastise.

He groans. "Don't remind me." He says, cupping my ass through my sleep pants, groping me slowly before his hands trail back up to my bra and unhook the back, sliding the straps down my arms. He shudders, rolling me onto my back, hands running up my sides. He cups my breasts, kissing down my neck before taking my right nipple into his mouth. I bite my bottom lip, curling my fingers into his hair, holding him close with him moaning around my tit.

I reach down, cupping his bulge and massaging it slowly through his briefs. He moans, eyes squeezing shut and his head falling forward a bit, lips releasing from my skin. His hips roll instinctively and I take it as a sign to continue, finding his tip through the material and dragging my nails over it, making his hips buck.

"Fuck, I feel like a virgin. Gonna cum in my pants if you keep doing that."

"You have extra boxers here." I shrug, running my other hand down his chest, tracing his v-line with the tips of my nails. He shudders, biting my neck before sitting up.

"You gotta stop," he breathes. I pull my hand back with a knowing grin.

"Too much?" I coo.

"You're annoying." He grunts, sliding his boxers off, tip red and swollen, precum already dribbling down the sides of his cock. He pulls my lounge pants off, panties following before he braces himself over me.

"Mm, you're in love with me though, so who's winning here?"

"Me." He grins boyishly, fingers trailing a line down my cunt.

I bite my lip, brushing my fingers through his curls as he circles my clit a few times before bringing the digits to his mouth to suck clean. I watch him with lustful eyes, lips parting when he angles his hips slowly before sliding his cock between my folds.

"Okay?" He murmurs, smiling when I nod. He keeps eyes contact as he pushes inside gently, the thickness stretching just enough to sting with pleasure. I clamp down, making him grunt, shuddering as he chuckles. "Too much?" He teases, making me roll my eyes.

"Hush." I reply breathily. He pushes himself up just enough to start thrusting slowly, hitting that deep spot inside of me with every precise thrust. We'd done this a few times before but lately we'd been so tangled up with our own lives that when we got together, it was mostly catching up. Now, with his familiar pace, feeling his eyes on me, watching him take me in and he thrust inside, I didn't want to ever stop.

"Fuck, you're killing me." He whimpers lowly.

"Sorry," I wince, trying to relax.

"No, it feels good, just...Gah." He grunts, starting to pick up the pace once I forced my body to relax and stop clamping down on him. I moan softly when his hips hit at a particular angle, making him shiver, hiking one of my legs around his waist so he can continue hitting it.

"I missed this." I murmur, arms wrapped tight around his neck, pulling himself down.

"Missed you," he rasps against my lips, his hand sliding up my thigh as he thrust deeply.

When we reached our climaxes, he continued his movements through mine before he pulled out, cumming on my stomach and biting down on my shoulder to not be too loud. I whined softly when he did, the pain adding to the high I was on.

After a minute, he stood, grabbing wipes from my adjoining bathroom and coming back to clean me up. Once we were both clean, he collapsed into bed with me, our hands all over each other once again. Mine were running down his back as I kissed him, his cupping my hips, holding me close. I fell asleep soon after that, one leg draped over his thighs, his arm encircling my torso.

The next morning, we were awoken by my dad screaming at us in the doorway. Nat was wincing, Bucky and Steve were trying to pretend they were admiring my decor. The blanket covered me, so I wasn't embarrassed in that department, but I mean, I was embarrassed that my dad was seeing me in bed with a very naked Peter.

"What is going on here?!" He yelled.

"Uhh, Bucky and Steve are fucking!" I snitch, making the two super soldiers gape.

"WHAT?" My dad exclaimed, turning to Steve.

"We- Y/n!" Steve yells.

Thor appears behind the group in the doorway. "Okay, guys! Who ate my last poptart? You will be dealt with! This treachery will not be tolerated!"

Yes, the end is cringe;

perm taglist: @katrinaellie

[love-hs28]

oh this is just what i was looking for

[love-hs28]

just saw brand new day. hope ur ready to be SICKKKK OOOFFFFFFF MEEEEEE

no spoilers ofc but omfg.

[wishesofficial]

I CANNOT WAIT for the peter parker fics to start rolling in once Spider Man: Brand New Day comes out

[nyra-42]

Seeing an edit on TikTok of a “character”.

*Sighs*

Opens Tumblr and looks up “character” x reader.

[love-hs28]

just finished heated rivalry. oh. my. god. life has been changed

[gaybybirth]

how eddie's bed got some of those stains

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader (NSFW)

Synopsis: Eddie offers his trailer up for you to use as a studying safe haven. However, you end up doing a little more than just studying while you’re there. 

Warnings: nsfw content; friends -> lovers, awkwardness, tension (sexual and awkward), reader affectionately refers to eddie as an idiot & a dingus, pretending everything is normal and they definitely didn’t fuck, reader is embarrassed, clit stim, fingering, protected sex, fucking with clothes on, reader rides eddie, multiple orgasms, spanking, eddie likes to bite, hair-pulling (eddie’s hair pulled), studying while fucking, rough fingering, overstim (and specifically clit overstim), first-time squirting, & rough fucking 

Word Count: 5.7k 

A/N: So I finally started doing some reading again after months, and this came to me on a whim. I also finished a cowboy romance novel so i’m also having some cowboy/outlaw eddie thoughts. (i know i have other stories to finish–I’m going to work on them soon! This just came to me and i typed it out real quick!) 

You were supposed to be studying for an English Lit final that was going to make or break your grade that semester, and you had your eye on making the dean’s list again before graduating. So while you might’ve had your notes open and in front of you, the plan was to study them at the table next to the idiot who talked you into this.

Instead, he gave you a mischievous look over the top of ignored community college fliers, sheet music, and his opened sketchbook where Corroded Coffin was etched into the page with dark ink. You were way too invested in reminding yourself about the intricacies of Bram Stoker’s Dracula to realize Eddie had gotten up to scrub his hands in the bathroom sink. Not until the sun came through the window just at the right angle to glint off of his framed high school diploma hung crooked on the wall.

When you caught his eye as he plopped back down wordlessly, you felt that molten annoyance in your gut. The one that lurched when he kicked your foot underneath the table before hooking his own around your ankle. 

“I have to study,” you found yourself saying. It came out forcefully, but the kind that held a desperation in it. The kind that was trying to convince yourself, not him. You did need to study. You really needed to–he knew that, that idiot. 

Still, he shrugged, and sighed, and tapped his fingers on the table.

“Who said anything about stopping?”

It devolved. That stupid, annoying, frustrating gooey sensation in your gut that screwed with you every time you thought you and Eddie could hang out without it turning into this again–it was there. It was thick and encapsulating. It made the air feel like it was a hundred times hotter than it was, even when you two were just catching eyes over notes at the table. Hell, even when you’d been hanging out together the past few weeks in a damn group. 

One time! You’d been doing these mini-hangouts for weeks after you needed a place to study that wasn’t a busy coffee shop, the library where you’d spent all of high school picking up part-time work, or your parents’ place where they’d keep coming in to pester you about something or other. So Eddie offered since Wayne worked nights, you could use their table. Eddie sold it with the fact that he wouldn’t even be there half the time, and when he was, you were already used to his shit. So why not?

For a couple of months, it worked. For a couple of months, you had a couple of days where Eddie was there just hanging out in his room playing guitar or sitting on the couch watching TV that you could tune out. Sometimes he hung with you, working on his own shit at the table, then pestering you about what you were doing. Until you threw a pencil or a pen at his head, and he fucked off.

And then one time!!! One fucking time!!! 

It was late. Your neck fucking hurt from having to binge-read goddamn Dracula of all books, funny enough, and Eddie got you to take a break. Stole the book from you and said he’d give it back after you took a breather. With a beer. And you were tired and sore, and your brain hurt as badly as your neck, so you said fuck it. Lounged around with the dingus, had a beer, ended up ordering some pizza, killing an hour watching something you couldn't remember on TV, leaning back against the front of the couch. Close to each other. Really close. Thighs pressed together, shoulder to shoulder.

An attempt at cracking your neck to get rid of the kink had Eddie flicking the side of your head and then bringing his hand up. He snuck his hand under the collar of your sweater and poked around until he hit the spot that made you wince. That ooey, gooey warmth in your belly started as a spark. Like an ember falling into an unlit fireplace. And when he worked the knot past the general pain and the wincing turned into soft breaths you traded instead of the sighs and encroaching moans because it felt way too good, your thighs were betraying you. Pressing together and pressing the seam of your jeans up between them.

One beer wasn’t enough to blame for how you went from reading at the table to lifting your hips so Eddie could slide his hand down the front of your jeans, your hands fisted in his hair, and mouths locking together. You were going to blame it. Especially when his fingers brushed over the excruciatingly wet spot on your underwear that made him fucking beam like an asshole. And you blamed it still when he tugged them aside and ran his fingers over you, still grinning, still kissing you–and you were still kissing him–looking for the spot that had your eyes rolling back and bucking your hips into his hand.

One. Fucking. Time.

You came twice. Once with his fingers massaging your clit and just your clit. Making you yank on his hair while he left searing kisses down your neck until your sweater got in the way. Then again, after he’d stuffed two fingers into you right after you came once, dragging out the waves of sharp, jolting ecstasy with every pump and curl of them. Scissoring his fingers with loud, wet sounds sneaking out of your jeans.

Then it sort of happened in a hungry blur. Getting your jeans off of one leg. His hand cupping the back of your head, and you meeting his mouth for another kiss. Eddie fumbling back into his wallet to grab a condom. You trying to get his belt off quickly, efficiently. And then you were straddling him, his fist squeezing the base of his cock, lining himself up with you, your underwear still off to the side. And your head pressing against the side of his at your temples when you sank down onto him.

One. Goddamn. Time. With a stupid beer and a kink in your neck and so much reading, your head was spinning. Spinning–ha. The trailer was spinning that night. It was hard and fast, and you braced yourself on the couch that was thankfully pretty fucking heavy, so it didn't move much when you rode him. Bouncing on him with matched grunts and moans echoing out. His hands on your hips squeezing to leave bruises. His mouth occasionally finding your neck to bite in a way that made you clench around where his cock nudged inside of you just right. That you were locked into thinking about with every breath-taking bounce.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Christ, c’mon,” Eddie grunted when your moans got a little higher. You just needed a little more, but admitting it…. “Let me feel you. Fuck. Jesus Christ. Let me fucking feel you.”

And he'd pulled you down onto his lap. His jeans pressed into you, and his belt was a warm metal sensation against your inner thigh. He guided your hips to rock, and you went with him, weirdly falling into whatever he was aiming for with it. And the second you did–oh, shit. His cock was nestled deep into you and hitting that spot every single right fucking way. Your eyes fluttered shut, and just as they did, he brushed your clit with his thumb. 

“Ah, fuck. Fuck. (Y/N). Fuck.”

There was a quick glimpse of that annoyingly mischievous grin the idiot had half of the time, but seeing it then when he ran tighter circles of your clit…. You were done for. Fuck Dracula. The peak was launched at you with a fucking catapult, and there was nothing to prepare, nothing to do about it except let it hit. And holy fuck, it hit. You had rugburn on your knees. Fell forward onto his chest, pulling his hair, cracking out a moan with his name on it when it slammed into you. Cunt squeezing, fluttering hips rocking on their own to chase what he was working out of you with his thumb still.

You punched the couch. Hard.

He fucking laughed, but it turned into a grunt of sorts when he jerked his hips up mid-climax. He fucked you through it. You had to wrap your arms around him to hold on. It wasn’t the best position, and you weren’t raised much over him to give him a lot of access to fuck into you. But, holy shit, he’d made it work. And your eyes rolled back into your head when he did.

It was frustratingly the best orgasm someone had given you, and having Eddie fucking Munson attached to the other end of it was a strangely surreal moment. Specifically, when you felt how wet your cheeks were when he jerked up into you hard and deep, grunting next to your ear while he came. His thighs quivering, heels digging into the carpet. Sputtering out half-curses and what you were pretty sure was your name.

You sat there together like that for a little bit. Both panting. Both sort of…realizing what you’d just done. Blaming one beer real fucking quick. Didn’t really matter how hard you were still spasming over his cock and how his cock was still twitching deep in your cunt. You just…well. It was pretty fucking clear, but the wide-eyed look Eddie returned yours with that it wasn't some plan he’d thought up for the night when you came over. 

So, when the awkwardness finally reached its peak, you were up, in the bathroom while Eddie sputtered something out that you didn’t really hear. Cleaned up, grabbed your book, awkwardly thanked him–but you’d meant it about letting you come over to work there, not the two orgasms–and then nearly fell down the stairs getting to your car.

Took two really fucking awkward weeks before he talked you into just forgetting it happened. His place was still available if you needed it, and he’d give you a wide fucking berth if you didn’t want him anywhere near you after that. Took another week to get yourself to actually go over there. Not that you didn’t trust him–and you told him that to his face; you did. But it was just extraordinarily awkward, just hanging out there and seeing the spot in front of the couch where you'd fucked. 

But no matter how hot the air got when you went over there, no matter how the stolen looks stacked up, how awkward slowly meandered into familiar comfort and new tension, it didn't happen again. You always left before twilight hit. If you brushed up against each other underneath the table or passed by each other, you both seemed to push back pretty quickly, as if the other was made of fire. And maybe there was a slip-up or two. Like in the kitchen when you were washing your hands while Eddie unpacked some takeout he'd grabbed for you two, and you bumped into each other when you went to dry your hands. His hands on your hips to keep you steady, lingering, eyes locked, so fucking close together….

Or when he'd get bored while you were working, and he'd take his pen and draw along your arm. Goosebumps betrayed you. The words on the page melted into a blurry mess. And it took a lot of effort to drag your arm away from him after glancing up to see how close you two were leaning into each other when he shoved your sleeve up and drew on the inside of your elbow.

…or the one time you went into his room to tell him to turn his music down, and he caught you right in the doorway, and maybe when you were both facing each other, sandwiched between the doorframe, you might've…well…. Maybe Eddie looked like he wanted to break that truce a little, and maybe that molten feeling in your gut had you leaning in a little, and maybe your lips almost touched. Almost! They didn't. Because you had schoolwork to do and you weren't going down the awkward path that led to whatever the fuck had happened in front of the couch.

And maybe, just maybe, that sort of led to every visit at his place stacking up every touch, every look, every awkward second that made your thighs press together under the table. Maybe that led to you just telling him you had to work, even when you were the one to reach over and fix his bracelet or his watch, like it meant something more. It might’ve. If your soaked underwear was anything to go on. 

So maybe, just maybe, some part of you was worn the fuck down when he gave you that annoying look from across the table and motioned back toward his bedroom and nodded down at your notebook. Maybe it was how your thighs rubbed together under the table and reminded you of his mouth on yours when he slid his hand into your jeans and teased your clit. Teased and teased and teased until you were grinding against his fingers and whining and squeezing nothing when you came.

Fuck.

You hung your head over your notebook. Eddie’s bed dipped under your knees and elbows. The words were blurring together as tears built up, the room sparking hot despite the chill still lingering in the air. 

Something, something, Jonathan Harker. You couldn’t think. Couldn’t read.

Eddie had your knees spread and back arched. It was a somewhat humiliating position to be in, and you almost told him to fuck off when he tossed your notebook onto his bed, but you were aching. Irritatingly, you were ruining your underwear again. And the weird middle ground you were both standing on was sort of…surreal. So you said nothing to the contrary when he kicked his door shut and waltzed up to you. Hooked his fingers around the beltloops in your jeans. Pulled you in with an awkward but mischievous grin. 

After a searing, intoxicating kiss that brought everything back from that night. That reeled in everything from the past couple of weeks up to an immediate boiling point. Your jeans and socks were off. You were on his bed, over your notes, back to him while he pulled your underwear down to your ankles. Embarrassment was a slam against your cheeks when Eddie’s breath hitched. You caught the blur of your underwear in your peripheral vision where they hit the floor. 

Oh, fuck. You were just basically entirely on display. Eddie’s hands working your hips back to really put you on display. Naked. Not counting your sweater staying on. But everything your jeans covered? You almost bailed.

Then, Eddie’s hand was a sharp sting on the side of your ass, and you yelped. 

“Hey, keep going. Keep reading,” he breathed. It came out sort of firm, but it felt forced. An edge of playfulness in it that was taken away by just how breathy it was. Sort of reaffirmed what burned against your cheeks, but it came with the added benefit that whatever the fuck was happening, you were interested. Even if the sting in your ass brought a literal ache to what was on display to him. 

“I am,” was all you managed to throw back at him.

Then, for about half a second, it was just silence. It only took that long before Eddie was fumbling over to switch on his stereo. The fact that he turned down Iron Maiden so it wasn’t totally blaring said everything you needed to know. You fisted the sheets and tried rereading the line in your notes again.

Tried.

Eddie spanked you again. As you jerked and yelped again, his fingers were on you. One hand kept your back arched, hips rolled back, and the other was right there. Right where it was last time. Running over your cunt and practically just shining a spotlight onto how wet you were. From just fucking sitting out there with him. Rubbing three fingers over you, smearing it across you, his fingertips bumping your clit. Oh, fuck. You twitched. 

He spanked you again. It was wet against your ass because of you. Because of his goddamn fingers on your cunt. While you wanted to snap his name, you couldn’t get yourself to do anything but gasp. All you had to do was tell him to fuck off, you’d get up, put your bottoms back on, and then leave. It was that easy. Yet your knees were weak, your heart was pounding, and it didn’t matter how hot the tips of your ears burned or how badly you wanted to hide your face. When he slid his fingers back down and teased your cunt with the tip of one finger, his breath audibly catching right along with yours, you weren’t going anywhere.

It was like you were both trapped in this Iron Maiden-filled limbo. Where if either of you said anything, it'd end whatever the hell you two were doing. Whatever the hell Eddie had clearly been thinking about. Either before you got there, since you did, or maybe it just came to him on the spot. There was enough time for him to think about scrubbing his hands clean. Cause there went his finger, gradually pushing into you like you were something fragile. Slowly working its way in like you weren't dripping wet already. Until his knuckles brushed against you. Until his other hand moved. Until he was reaching around you and his breath hitched right along with yours again, barely heard over the music.

You reread the same line a dozen times.

His finger brushed your clit, and you dropped to meet him. He responded by curling his finger inside of you and spanking you again. A nonverbal you’re supposed to be reading those notes, aren’t you in a sharp sting on the other side of your ass. 

Guess this was about you keeping still then. Which only just shot a near-painful wave of disbelief right down to where he slid a second finger into you. Eddie fucking Munson, what the hell? Your breathing picked up right along with your pulse. It should've sent you packing. Shit, you shouldn't have gotten up from the table. But, holy shit, you tried to reread the line again because you were supposed to be studying and you felt like you were going to catch flames from where your ass stung. 

Doing this….

Eddie found your clit. Two fingers worked into you with a bit more speed, making you rock with them. 

“F-fuck,” was practically forced out of you.

You lifted your hands and wrapped them around the back of your head, pulling down. Eddie drilled his fingers into you more, going against what his spank had otherwise said. They hit your sweet spot just right, and you kept yourself angled back for him so he could work his fingers into you with ease. And fuck your notebook, your thighs were trembling. Through the music, you could hear just how wet you were. His fingers fucking into you with loud squelches.

You laced your fingers together and breathed through your teeth.

Fuck. Fuck. Oh, fuck. 

You were almost there. Already. For fuck’s sake. You were shaking. Almost there. Almost there. Fuck, Eddie. What the fuck? What the fuuuuck. You pushed back a little to meet his fingers–

He withdrew them. Aching and empty, he held your hips with his wet fingers, and his other hand came across your ass in an unforgiving spank. 

“The uh…the line…your notes,” he pushed out. His voice was rough around the edges. “Read, uh, read a line. Out loud. For me. Christ." He coughed. "Read them out, or I stop.”

You couldn’t breathe. What the fuck, Eddie? Your heart was a pounding in your skull. It knocked away the thoughts that were trying to creep in that said how ridiculous this was, but where your pulse found itself down between your legs answered for you. It weaseled up all fluttering, all aching, all warm and needy. Hot. Humiliating on one side, but really, really fucking hot on the other. Holy shit.

You slowly peeled your fingers apart from behind your head. On weak elbows, with a knot in your throat keeping the moans back, you cleared it away as best as you could, then looked at your notebook. Blinking away the blurriness until you could read the first line, you opened your mouth and forced the words out.

“Mirrors and servants are, uh, noticeably m-missing inside the castle,” you said shakily. 

Anticipation was a tension along your spine. A rise of goosebumps that came as the next song started. That had you quivering empty and throbbing.

His fingers slid down.

“Keep going,” he downright ordered.

“H-However, i-in Harker’s mirror, h-he notices Dracula’s lack o-of reflection.”

Three fingers teased your cunt, and you slammed a fist down on his lumpy mattress when he gradually worked them in. You took them so easily, it was mortifying. Eddie’s hand was a tight, burning grip on your hip that gave him away. The pull back toward him. The way he stilled his fingers when you felt his thumb and pinkie press up against the bottom of your ass and hold themselves there. His jeans against the backs of your thighs.

The words were so fucking quiet. The music almost made you think you’d imagined it, but fuck it, you’d heard them. You knew you did. Just that quiet, breathless Jesus Christ. 

You went down to the next line. 

“It’s…it’s when…when he sees Dracula setting the table th-that Harker knows they’re a-alone.”

Oh, fuck.

Your eyes fluttered shut when he moved his fingers. It was the same way as before. Not as roughly. But you braced your knees while he fingered you, reaching around to work your clit again. Read. You squeezed his fingers involuntarily; you were just close again already. Right there. Right fucking there. You almost kicked a foot out and shrieked when he found the exact right rhythm with his fingers and pressure over your clit. 

“Like that,” was all you threw out. You read a random line on the pages, vision blurry while tears welled. “Dracula travels on the Demeter–shit. Eddie–”

It's there. Right there again. Three fingers knuckle-deep, squelching obscenely over the music, his middle finger working your clit in tight, imperfectly perfect circles. You caught a teardrop hitting the page. It smudges the ink a little. Black pooling into it. And Eddie didn't stop. You tried to read another line. Something about the three vampire women at the castle, but it's lost in a sea of sharp breaths and what inevitably turned into a choked moan.

He didn’t stop. 

You dropped your head again. Hooked your hands around the back again, pulling down while balanced on your elbows. Pushed your hips back to meet the roughening thrusts of his fingers. Whatever left your mouth, you didn’t hear. It’s nonsense swimming in the rush inside your head. The thump of your heart. The burning heat crawling down your arched back. The clenching around his fingers while he milked pleasure from you, into you. Rubbing your swelled clit with tighter, slightly faster circles. 

Fuck.

A tear slipped down your cheek. Everything tightened around that single pleasure point that his fingers slammed into. That his middle finger rubbed. That had you weeping beyond just what wet your cheeks. Your eyes clamped shut at the edge. Body rocking with the motions, you were there at the edge for a second, and then it was ripped out from beneath your feet. He didn’t stop–no. You just had a brief, heart-stopping second where you could look down at the empty space beneath your feet like a Looney Tunes character hovering before the fall.

Then, the tension gave. It was a bolt of lightning up your spine and threw a splatter of stars behind your eyes. Bright and white-hot. You sputtered out what you hoped were just curses while you came. Body seizing up with pleasure, Eddie’s fingers milking it out of you in a burst that spread like wildfire. Hot and wet and dripping down your thighs. His hand. Onto his bed.

He fucked his fingers into you a little harder, rubbed your clit a little faster. It dragged out the waves of rich, sharp pleasure until you were shoving your notebook away from you and wrapping your arms around your face. Gasping into and grabbing at Eddie's bed. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Oh my god,” you cracked out.

Eddie’s fingers eventually stilled. You stared down into the darkness you created with your arms, blinking at his mattress, cheeks stinging and as wet as your thighs were. Dripping. As dripping wet as Eddie’s hand was when he pulled out of you and pressed his hand against your hip. Squeezing so fucking hard you gasped.

Did you just…? 

You swallowed hard.

“Eds,” you breathed. “Did I just…?”

There was a sudden shift. A lean. A racket under the music. Despite how hard your pulse was slamming into you, you dared yourself to lift your arm. Elbow. Peeking out at Eddie's room. At Eddie, there, using you to support himself while he leaned off the edge of his bed. Big brown eyes looked back at you, dark and full. His chest was fucking heaving. His mouth was parted. And he picked up a condom from underneath his bed.

“Gonna make you do that again around me,” he didn’t state, he fucking declared.

Every inch burned. Your thighs clenched.

“Okay,” you answered.

“Then….” He nodded at your notebook.

You barely managed a nod back.

Just like before, just like last time, it was silent. Iron Maiden helped fill the thick, tension-addled air. But–holy fuck. You’d never…. He was determined to make you do that again, but that was the first time. Should you tell him? His already annoying ego would burst. But if he couldn't get you to do it again, then…? Your internal questions fell short at the nudge of his tip against you. 

He rocked himself over you, grinding his cock against your clit with every thrust. Oh, fuck. You were sensitive, and you jerked with every thrust. But Eddie grabbed your hips, pulling you back. He was going to kill you. You felt it. The twist in your lower belly just above where his fingers dug into your hips. This wasn’t something you were going to both get up from his bed from and go back to normal. Shit. You hadn't last time in front of the couch, either; you were just playing a really dumbass game of pretend with that. 

But you’d never cum like that before. You’d never…. 

Eddie lined himself up and pressed his tip in. Oh, fuck. You took him easily. So, so easily. He'd worked you open with his three fingers well enough that he slid in, and you needed fucking nothing to get used to him. Just a mere second. Where you braced yourself on his bed, gasping as he filled you. Then, you were of a simple need–fucking move. A single blip of a thought, because he already was. Hands shifting up to grab at your waist. He pulled back slowly and pushed in slowly. Like he was savoring it. Savoring you.

The sound you made was a strangled sigh, and it bounced back at you from where you still hid in the cave of your arms.

His platform bedframe squeaked. With every thrust that started to pick up the pace, it squeaked and squeaked louder. Sometimes on beat with the song. Sometimes it was off. But you hardly noticed. The wet slap of his hips against your ass, the brush of his jeans that he clearly only undid enough to get his cock out was maddening. You should've been offended, but, fuck, you were still in your sweater and bra. This wasn't some romantic thing–sweet fuck. 

You sobbed when he shifted the angle a little. His grunts coming through. His thrusts rough and short. He hit that spot. The one he’d been working with his fingers. The one that had stars popping up again. The one that had you pushing back to meet his thrusts while pleasure hit you in hard waves. Almost there. You just needed a little more. A little more. A little more!

Eddie stilled his hips, slamming deep into you. You yelped, throwing a hand out to meet the wall. Supporting yourself on it, pushing back, pushing yourself back, where he was already nestled balls deep in you. Oh, god. Oh, fuck.

He reached around you and found your clit.

It’s like time slowed. It slowed to a crawling, painful, sensitive halt. When the pads of his fingers brushed over your clit. When he pulled them back and brought his other hand to join. Fumbling a little. Cursing. His breathing faster than yours. And he used his fingers to spread you and bare your clit. His body coming to yours a little more. Then, he used a light touch with his finger against your clit. Slowly. Slow circles. Slow rubbing.

Time stretched. Your clit was so sensitive it almost hurt. You almost tried to lunge away, but you were sandwiched between your hand needing to be on the wall and Eddie’s cock nestled into your cunt. The stars started to fill your vision again. You gasped and squirmed, moving yourself over his cock in little thrusts that you could get. His finger lifting from your clit like he was giving you a break–a second to catch your breath–then dropping again.

And that time stretched and stretched and stretched until somehow he’d reduced you to gasps and sobs and broken moans. Choking out some variations of curses intermingling with the next you tried to say. Until his finger was back on your clit again and you felt it. The rush of heat spreading along your back and up your stomach. Where you ached to be naked so you could at least get the brush of his bed against your aching nipples. That clenching in your cunt that rippled first, then started to nearly burn when you clamped down over his cock.

Fuck.

“E-Eddie,” you cracked out. “I-I’m…fuck.”

He shifted. Shifted just enough. You had to readjust your hand on the wall. He went back to holding your hip with one hand, and the new position kept him close. Kept his finger on your clit. Except now he just put a bit more of his weight onto you, and he pulled his hips back. You blinked tears away and got one glimpse of his bed wet with drool and tears. Then, his hips snapped forward.

You were hovering again. Not as long as you'd hovered last time. There was just the edge, no ground, and when you looked down, you were already falling. Almost screaming. Maybe you were? Whatever moans turned your throat raw were muffled into the bed. You slammed your hand down against the wall in loud slaps that just became a soft ringing in your ears, while pleasure erupted. Choked. Captured.

You did more than squeeze his cock. You both got exactly what you fucking wanted. He fucked you deep and harsh, keeping attention right on your clit when you came. Squirting around him. Bringing wet jeans to the backs of your thighs with every thrust. It was blinding; sharp and sensitive and blinding. You pushed back to meet him. To take him. To have him. To drink up the waves of ecstasy that were drawn out with every thrust of his cock into you.

Until your legs were jelly.

Until Eddie was holding your hips with both hands, drilling into you. Falling over you. Cursing and sputtering out your name on top of you. Into your neck. Biting down and groaning, sending a shockwave along your spine and into your cunt. Fluttering around him through the contractions of your climax lingering. Eddie came just as hard, panting beside your ear.

The two of you in a wet, huffing heap of wet jeans, wrinkled sweater, and his shirt ridden up to let you feel his stomach at your back. 

Oh. Fuck.

“Holy shit,” Eddie muttered.

The words just fell out of you. They were there, knocking at the front door. And since you were completely jello underneath him, they just….

“I’ve never done that before.” Your hand fell from the wall. Was that your heart or Eddie’s that was pounding? 

Eddie didn’t say anything. The fucking asshole…leaving you to realize that was his pulse and yours that you were feeling since yours skyrocketed and his stayed a thumping against your back. He left you in deafening, agonizing silence for more than a few panting breaths.

"Well, if you, uh, do well on this final, maybe we found a good luck charm for your…studying," he mused between breaths. You swore you felt his cock twitch right when you clenched at his words. “Or I can shut the fuck up–”

“Yeah,” you interjected on a breath so quiet, you hoped Iron Maiden hadn’t covered it. 

But Eddie…. He dropped his head, and one hand came up. Pulled your sweater back enough. And where his knuckles first brushed over where he'd bitten you, he bared more of your shoulder, and his mouth was a hot kiss. Lingering. 

His hair tickled your cheek and neck.

You nodded. Like he’d asked something, said something–did anything besides just kiss your shoulder. But it felt like it meant something more than an impulse. 

He nodded too. 

Okay. 

Then, he reached. Paper crinkled. The bed shifted. You turned to get just enough of a look to see Eddie dragging your notebook over. Flipping back to the page with partial spots of ruined ink. 

“Alright, uh, fuck. Harker. Dracula.” He cleared his throat. “C’mon, I’m gonna make sure you pass this fucking final.”

You twitched around him still nestled inside of you.

He was, was he? 

A quick catch of your eyes….

“Okay,” you breathed.

And you propped yourself up to read your notes with him. 

[love-hs28]

oh. my. god.

[elegantpaperoperatormaker]

Drunk in Love

Gif by @/bi-loser, dividers by @/diviniyae

FWB!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: After a few too many drinks, secrets start to mean less and your skin starts to hum Eddie’s name, whether you feel it or not. He answers the call.

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, PiV unprotected semi-public sex, secret friends with benefits, cream pie, cum eating, little bit of oral (fem rec), dirty talk, drunk!Eddie POV, jealousy, possessiveness, panty stealing, begging, testosterone-off, small physical altercation (not R), desperation station, PDA, switch!Eddie, mild public embarrassment, dubcon (alcohol consumption; one-sided drunk sex), established relationship, Eddie is down horrendously, drunk!horny!Eddie abuses endearments, R wears a skirt (for easy access)

Song Rec: Drunk in Love by Beyoncé

A/N: Happy (almost) Valentine’s Day <3 Also, SURFBOAR— SURFBOAR— 

Masterlist

Submission Guidelines

Eddie feels good. 

Actually, he feels better than good—

He feels amazing.

The alcohol in his bloodstream is rushing, warming him from the inside out, leaving him flushed in the face. 

The smoky bar is playing old Judas Priest tracks. 

He’s drunk enough to not care how badly he’s losing the bet—the one he made thinking Steve would easily beat Robin at a billiards game. How was he supposed to know she was some kind of a whiz at Pool?

He’s got his girl to his right and the two bickering boneheads in front of him. 

A couple of beers, some smooth vodka, great music, and friendly competition.

What’s not to love?

Although, you do keep inching away from him every time he gets close. He’s not loving that new development.

Somewhere in the back of his mind—before the three pints and the two shots—he recalls your hushed voice in his ear, outside the bar. It was low and sultry. Scratchy and strained, but not like how it gets after a long day of talking. No—

It was the type of strain that happens when you’ve spent too many hours screaming his name. When too many breaths have torn from your chest, ragged and pressed out by the strength of his hips.

That type of strain is his favorite…. But you had said something then—

You leaned close. The music from the bar was leaking out into the muggy, open air of the parking lot. There was noise from the road nearby. Fast cars, rubber peeling off of wet asphalt—

Wet asphalt emanating heat and earthy scents—

And there was you. He could smell you, too. His favorite scent. The perfume you always leave traces of, like love notes he finds well after you’re gone. Proof of your existence in his bed, near his clothes, on him. 

You leaned close. Yes, because of the noise—the music, the cars. 

And your mouth brushed the shell of his ear and he shuddered. You laughed. Sweet and teasing. You laughed. 

He shuddered again, or maybe he was just vibrating with excitement—he could never tell around you. Then he felt what you were saying before you even said it. Your kiss-bitten lips curved so delicately around every syllable. 

You called his name. 

His favorite shape your mouth makes…

Well, that, and the stretch of—

No. No, you said something. His name. That’s what you said.

That and something else.

What was it?

He closes his eyes, trying to relive the moment— Your mouth against his ear, your hot breath on his skin, his name on your lips…

Fuck, he can’t remember. And damn it, you won’t let him touch you.

You just took yet another shuffle-step to the right. He didn’t even realize he was leaning into you until you did that 

Come to think of it, what you said before probably had to do with why you’re not letting him touch you now. 

Usually you love it. You welcome his zealous exploration. He knows that, you tell him through the prettiest sighs—

And what you said—well, it felt important at the time. You dropped his hand to say it, so it must’ve been. 

But as the golden glow of the hanging light fixture shines down on you, your hair glinting with every movement, his patchy memory no longer seems all that significant.

The sound of dense resin knocking together draws his attention to the table, the green surface missing one less solid colored ball. 

“Yes!” Robin calls out, pumping her fist victoriously.

“Shit!” Steve curses at the same time, stamping the butt of his wooden cue on the floor. 

 “Oof, rough go, Steve.” You smirk, pretty as a picture.

Eddie wishes you’d look at him like that. 

Subtly, he brushes his arm against yours—the one that’s holding your beer. His eyes practically roll at the heat rippling across your soft skin.

But you move away at the first contact. That’s really starting to get on his nerves. Because what, is he radioactive or something? What’s so bad about him wanting to hold you?

You lean forward. “Maybe if you—” 

“No speak from the opposition!” Steve shouts stiltedly, sending an accusatory finger your way. His eyes flit from you to the table as he strategizes his next shot. “I will not let your womanly wiles corrupt me—”

“Mm, I would,” Eddie purrs lowly, floating into your orbit. His leisurely efforts are abruptly halted, though, when you jab a knuckle into his side.

Steve paces, wearing a chasm into the chipped, creaky floorboards of the old dive bar. “If you had bet on me like you should’ve, then maybe I’d hear you out. But since you’ve left me scorned, I’d like to keep my dignity intact, thank you.”

“For now,” Robin simpers, sending you a side-long glance. “Or wait, do we think he had any to begin with?” 

“Mmm, jury’s still out—” you shrug, lips curled like you’re trying not to laugh at the frazzled man’s brewing tantrum.

Eddie giggles, “Dignity…Steve.” The words feel heavy on his tongue, like he’s dragging each syllable out a second too long. 

Steve grumbles—something about trading. Or maybe ‘trait-or’? Eddie doesn’t know, he’s too busy weathering the turn of the earth now that you’re looking at him again. It’s been forever since he’s held your attention, and he was nearly at the point of begging. 

It’s not just your eyes on him, though. You’re smiling, too. It’s that knowing smirk he loves. The kind that makes his knees weak and his pants feel tight. 

But then your lips twitch, smile faltering as you peer down at his finger hooked in the waistline of your skirt. And suddenly, you turn to him, shifting your hip out of reach. He opens his mouth, a complaint on the tip of his tongue when you force a half-drank bottle of beer into his outstretched hand with a terse, “Hold this.”

Straightening up, he gathers himself, prepared to shoulder any task for you—no matter how trivial. His responding, “Okay, baby,” is drowned out by Steve’s loud cheer after finally pocketing a ball. 

You turn back to Robin and Steve, leaving Eddie chasing after your gaze. “I’ll get the next round.” And just like that, you’re gone. 

He jogs after you, the floor feeling uneven as he stumbles through groups of people. You’re leaning against the bar, waiting for the drinks when he arrives, looming over you with heaving breaths. 

“Oh, baby, y’look so pretty tonight,” he grunts, wrapping an arm around your waist, trailing his lips up your neck. 

You whip around, hand shoving against his chest until he stumbles back a few paces. His eyes widen, stinging from the pain of rejection, and he feels minuscule under your cold glare. 

When you swallow, glancing somewhere behind him, he has to stop himself from moving into your eyeline. Because damn it, if you’d just look at him longer than a second—

“You need to stop,” you hiss. 

His head jerks back, the burn of nausea twisting low in his gut. “Wha—”

“You said you’d be good, Eddie.”

He is being good! He’s being so good! All he’s done tonight is stare at you and touch you—you love when he does that!

He opens his mouth to argue, but you cut in before he gets the chance to start. 

“You said you’d behave! So you better start now, or we’ll have to leave,” you grit out, stepping back from him once more. 

Following your movement, his overheating body crowds you against the bar. “No, please, don’t make us leave, baby,” he hurries, grabbing at your hips. “‘M havin’ so much fun, don’t wanna go—”

Your shoulders drop, you lean into him, and he almost closes his eyes, certain your lips will find his.

“Okay, then be-have,” you admonish, then turn to collect the drinks left behind by the busy bartender. 

Eddie decides he’d much rather have gotten a kiss than a warning.

Sliding out of his embrace, you march back to your party, a grumbled, “Just friends, Eddie. You promised they wouldn’t know—” fading the further you flee. 

And he feels like he just stepped into the Twilight Zone because what the hell? Why would he say that? That doesn’t sound like him at all—

“Thank God, gimme that,” Steve swipes a bottle from your arms, chugging it. He jabs a finger in Robin’s direction. “This woman wants me dead.” 

She snorts, then looks at you with an unimpressed glint in her eyes.

“Missed another shot?” you ask, brow quirked. 

“Multiple,” Robin confirms. 

“It is just not your night, is it, Steve?”

Before the beleaguered man can answer, Robin cuts in, elbowing him. “It’s never his night. That’s basically his whole thing. He’s, like, the personification of a Monday.”

Steve snaps, “Okay, that’s enough outta you. Just take the damn shot.”  

A loud clack, then a muffled thump into leather, and Robin laughs manically. 

Eddie watches you lean over the table, passing the girl her drink. Inch by inch, your skirt rises the more you reach, and his head drops to the side, weighed down by curiosity. 

He thinks of the black panties you shimmied on before coming here. He watched you then, just like he watches you now. Watched the way you wiggled the flimsy fabric over your ass, how the material covered your freshly fucked cunt so delicately. 

The same black fabric peeks out from beneath the hem of your skirt, only now, there’s a wet splotch between your folds, and he knows exactly what soaked through.

You straighten up—too soon for his liking—but Eddie’s still staring. Still leering at that cursed skirt. It’s never done him any good—always hiding you away. Then again, maybe it’s done him a world of good. It’s been the catalyst to many a sweaty tryst, that’s for sure. But right now, it’s useless fabric obstructing his favorite view. 

In the back of his mind, he vaguely registers the bickering going on around him, the music blaring. But his focus is divided between the sight of your upper thighs and the stirring in his pants. 

He reaches down to adjust himself, then quickly remembers the beer in his hand. The condensation beading down the glass has seeped into his skin, pruning his fingers. He doesn’t remember why he’s even holding the thing to begin with. 

Setting the bottle on a nearby table, he shuffles closer to you. You’re talking to Steve, and he’s not quite sure what you’re saying, but he hears you choke on your words the moment he presses against you. There’s a hiss of breath that sounds like his name, but his mind goes blank as tingling pleasure prickles up his spine, almost a relief of pressure. Or the temptation of relief. 

The feeling is small, but it’s intoxicating. Even more than the alcohol in his bloodstream. Because now he’s drunk on you. On what could be if he just bent you over and—

You cough, clearing your throat as you take a step forward—right up to the Pool table. Eddie grunts, grabbing your hips and dragging you back against him, this time with a stronger, steadying grip. 

“No, that doesn’t count as a mulligan— Hey! Ed, what the hell are you doing?”

Steve’s question falls on deaf ears, and your elbow digging into his ribs does nothing to deter his mission. Because the heat is building. In his flushed cheeks, in his muscles. Even lower. Incendiary friction sparks something dizzying and all-consuming. 

“Dude, at least let her breathe. No need to hover—”

He’s laughing, but Eddie doesn’t think it’s funny. Not when you slip from his hold, yet again, now an arms-length away. Too far. 

Your palms are planted on the glossy, oak edge of the table as you huff out something that sounds like it would’ve been a chuckle if it hadn’t collapsed halfway up your throat. “Think he just gets weirdly clingy when he’s drunk. Don’t know why I’m the victim, though—”

There’s a sharpness to your tone. It’s dulled by his inebriated ears. Undeterred, he closes in on you. “You’re so pretty, baby.”

The words slip out easily. Your shocked reaction only makes Steve laugh harder. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re really three sheets to the wind, dude—” 

Eddie ignores him, but then watches as he turns to you.

 “Does he think you’re someone else?” 

The question makes Eddie’s chest rumble. As if you could be anyone else. As if he could want anyone else this badly—

Wrapping his arms around your rigid frame, he can feel your ribs expand on the breath you draw in. Before a response tumbles past your lips, he squeezes you. Quick and firm. It’s the only warning he can manage without ripping fabric or leaving teeth marks on your delicate skin.

Because he knows what you’d say. He’s starting to catch onto the lies. And he’s not in the mood to play pretend anymore.

“How many has he had?”

Robin’s voice sounds distant as Eddie finds himself beside you again—not far, this time, but shucked off all the same—monitored under your eagle eyed gaze. When she calls your name, stealing your attention for…something about going home or taking a home, he can’t find it in him to care. Not about Robin’s itch for theft or Steve’s quiet, regarding stare.

He can smell your perfume. It calls to him, whispers of heat and closeness. Of the subtle change in the chemical makeup when you begin to warm beneath him, when his sweat mixes with yours. The evil scent pulls him in until his nose is running along your neck. You don’t jump nearly as much as you have been. He’s breaking you down. All he has to do is persist.

You reach across your body, finding his chest and he almost giggles at the half-hearted shove you give. Like it’s just for show. Like you don’t really want him gone. Then your fingers curl around the flimsy material of his shirt and he’s certain you don’t want him gone. How could you push him away if you’ve got a hold on him? 

With a groan, he presses his straining length against the underside of your other wrist, your palm still planted firmly on the edge of the table. It’s a slow, focused grind; his knees nearly buckle. Pushing harder as his own hands slide down your arm, he keeps you in place.

“Fuck, Eddie, st—”

“Holy shit, he’s like a cat in heat,” Steve mutters, cutting you off in what Eddie deems a particularly grating tone. It does nothing to aid the coiling need he’s trying to sate. 

Tension bleeds from your muscles in a slow-burning drip as your form sways just the slightest bit in his direction. He can feel you fighting the urge to melt into him. He’s waiting. Patiently. As patiently as he can without compromising his own desires.

Then, your chin tips and you whisper a lackluster, “Eds, seriously, not here—” over your shoulder. 

“Okay, what the fuck, man.” 

A large hand lands on his bicep, pulling him away from you. His heartrate spikes. 

A calamitous anger rages inside, catching like a wildfire through his veins. It feels like integrity but tastes like possession.

Whipping around, he smacks the arm away, blindly knocking the culprit back. 

“Dude! Actually get the fuck off her—”

“Steve, it’s fine!”

Your sharp tone slices through the fog in his mind; it settles the devastation inside, canning it for another time. He stares at your back as you move between him and a very angry-looking Steve. Chest all puffed out, the ex-jock is the picture of chivalrous defense, and he can’t help but grin. 

If the good knight only knew the things you’ve let Eddie do to you…

“Yeah, Steve,” he drawls, his heavy-lidded gaze sliding from the incensed man to you, the one-woman garrison emboldened by altruism and bolstered by sweetness. He inches closer; a shadow encroaching on the light, a predator going in for the kill. “She said it’s fine.”

His palms hover over your skin, consuming and reveling in the heat. Up your arms, around your shoulders, and back, he maps out your body, admiring the winding curves he’s traversed many times before. The simmering rage of the man in front of you only encourages his quiet appreciation. 

Slowly, delicately, he leaves a chaste kiss where your neck meets your shoulder. 

You tremble, blinking like you mean to steel yourself. 

And his grin widens. “See? She likes it—”

Steve snaps into action, but Robin is quicker, throwing her arm out in front of him. At the same time, you grab Eddie’s wrist, yanking him after you. 

“That’s it, I’m taking you home.”

He lets you drag him away, tossing a smirk over his shoulder. Steve tries to ask if you’re sure and you only let out a clipped, “See you guys later,” in response.

Eddie can’t help but congratulate himself on yet another successful victory. You’re his. You’re choosing him, again. A room full of people and you’re taking him home. 

He somehow feels both stone-cold sober and wasted beyond belief, all from your fingers digging into his pulse. And the alcohol. There’s that, too. 

Weaving through meandering patrons, the exit sign comes into view. You’re talking, but he can’t hear you. The words float ahead, jostled and spliced by the whining guitar riff peeling from the surrounding speakers. He hears the anger, though. It doesn’t bother him.

Once the door closes behind him, the stuffy bar now in his rearview and the night air filling his lungs, he drops his weight back, no longer moving so willingly.

You grunt, but otherwise seem unfazed. Only tightening your grip and continuing your lecture—

“—at fault. I mean, seriously, we fucking agreed! It was mutual! We said we didn’t want the dynamic to change, then you down a few too many, and now all of a sudden, you’re measuring dicks with Steve. I mean, you might as well’ve just pissed on me—it was too fucking obv—”

Pebbles kick up beneath his skidding shoes as he finds his balance. 

“Oh, sure, make this harder than it has to be. You’re great at that—”

The last word catches in your throat as he pulls you the opposite way, back to the bar. You stumble, trying your best to resist, but he’s moving you easily.

“Eddie, what the fuck did I say? If you can’t behave, we’re leaving. We’re not going back— Agh—”

Pressed against the brick wall of the building, hidden in the alley beside it, your complaints fall to unintelligible nonsense as Eddie attacks your neck, lips ravaging any sliver of skin he can find. His body envelops yours, keeping you still with a force he can’t find it in him to tame, especially for the sake of propriety. Not now. Not after waiting so dreadfully long. 

“E-Eddie, slow d-down, Jesus—”

“Can’t,” he grunts, finding his way to your mouth, mumbling like a wanton man. “I need you, baby. Need you so fuckin’ bad—” His hips jut forward, searching for reprieve from the miserable strain of his jeans. 

When your back arches, he sinks his talons in, blunt nails biting and fingers digging as he clings onto you. Because in this moment, you’re the only thing keeping him from falling off the face of the earth; he feels it racing beneath his feet. Your eyes on his, the taste of your lips—it slows everything down. 

“Shit, you’re so pretty. So, so pretty—” 

Every word is mindless, slurred, but true. Inhibition has long-since died a silent, restful death inside him, buried somewhere low, near the hearth that never stops burning for you. 

His hands grope and grab at anything they can reach—your ass, your thighs, your arms, your breasts. Anything. All of it keeps him here for one second more. Grounded in your softness. Steady on your terrain. 

“Eds, we—we have to go,” you gasp, pliant beneath his roving touch. He closes the gap, tongue tangling with yours in a sloppy, searing kiss that makes his mind whir and his ears fill with a fizzing sound.

“Nuh-unh, wanna stay,” he pants, nipping at your pulse point, feeling your blood rush. “Wanna stay with you.”

His hands slip beneath your skirt as you hold onto his shoulders. You give a weak push when his fingers pull at the gusset of your panties, but it’s not nearly enough to deter him. 

“We can’t st—ay, fuck— You’re drunk, Eddie. I don’t even know how you’re hard right now.”

He hums, straightening to his full height and pressing you harder against the wall. His breath comes fast; he can’t seem to catch it as he watches you. 

How is it not obvious?

“‘S you,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your temple. “‘S all you. Makin’ me burn…. Makin’ me want you so damn bad it hurts.” 

You swallow, lashes fluttering as you lean into his gentle touch. “I’m sorry I hurt you…but we can’t do this. Not he—”

“You don’t want me?” His voice is brittle. Breaking. 

A night full of small rejections comes to a head as the weight of your words—sincerity and conviction threaded through every syllable—crashes into him, a frenzied tidal wave leaving wreckage in its wake. 

He only manages to retreat half a step before you’re pulling him back, arms wrapping around his neck. 

“I do want you,” you rush, pressing imploring kisses onto his rosy cheeks, tiny promises sealed with sticky lipgloss. “I always want you.”

His vision blurs as he peers down, frizzy curls hanging low in his eyeline. Confusion is a bitter thing as he finds the hem of your skirt. There’s mercy in the feeling of the grooved stitch beneath the rough pads of his fingers. 

“Even now?” he asks, low and timid for the first time tonight. 

Your arms release him, trailing down the sinewy plane of his chest. You lift his shirt only an inch—just enough for your nails to find his flushed skin, enough to feel him twitch as you explore so freely. 

“Always.”

He pauses, searching for something in your gaze. Or, maybe something in the silence. And it’s the silence that answers. 

With a hurried breath, he tears at your panties. It’s a quick, controlled rip, and he stuffs the fabric into his back pocket. 

You gasp, but he drops before you get the chance to scold him. His jeans do little to mitigate the sting of gravel as his knees hit the ground. He hikes your thigh over his shoulder, disappearing under your skirt. 

“Ed— Oh, God!”

His face drags through your folds, nose catching on your clit as his tongue sinks into you, plunging as deep as it’ll go. But the thundering ecstasy of finally tasting you—and himself—is cut short when you tug at his hair with a force far too sharp to be pleasurable. He groans, missing your heat as you haul him up to his feet. 

“Eddie! We can’t do that here,” you bite out, glancing behind him. “That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

The worry in your brow catches on something inside him, and if he had the right words, he’d make it go away. But there are no right words, only burrowing panic and gnawing desire so deep, it’s almost torture.

“Please, baby, I’ll be good,” he pants, pawing restlessly at your body. “I swear to God, I’ll be good. Just— Just let me— Ah, Jesus!” His forehead falls to your shoulder and he hangs onto you, a firm grip on your ass as he pulls you into him. The movement is meant to alleviate, to save his sanity, but all it does is remind him of your denial, of the space he can’t close, and the release he can’t reach.

Your fingers begin to soothe his scalp. He matches his breathing to yours; in and out, in and out, in and out. 

Curious and tender, you mutter, “It’s really that bad?” 

He shakes his head, lifting it to meet your concerned gaze. 

You don’t understand. You can’t possibly know what it feels like. This dull ache. Persistent, like a gnat in his ear, it’s been with him all night, made worse by you. Your perfume, your soft touch, the glimmer in your eyes. The distance, the act, the canyon between words and truth. 

It’s all a great pain. An infection that’s been festering for hours. You have the medicine and you won’t give it to him.

His voice cracks, “So bad. I’m achin’ for you, can’t you feel it?” His hips jerk forward as he waits for your response, but the silence is too loud. He can’t stand it. 

“You’re just so pretty…” Dazed, his eyes rove over your wrinkled top, fabric askew and showing more skin than you started the night showing. “‘N so soft.” Ducking closer, he rumbles out a drawling, “Mm, you smell so good.”

Again, you look behind him, somewhere just over his right shoulder and he sways, chasing your gaze. 

“And you can’t wait ten minutes to get to your apartment?” you ask, eyes narrowed. 

He sags against you, a whine crawling up from deep within his throat. “No…. No more. I’ve been waiting all night. I can’t— I—”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I hear you. Just— Hey, Eds, look at me—”

Your palms cradle his head and he can smell the lavender hand soap he put in his apartment just for you.

“Be quick,” you whisper, tipping your chin to hold his attention.

He perks up, swallowing harshly as he stares at you, trying to decode the two simple words. But you might as well have spoken another language because his mind is running circles around the meaning, never through. 

“Hey—” Your eyes dart downward, stall there, then you close the distance. 

It’s messy and wet and he can still taste you on his tongue—smell you smeared on his skin—but you don’t seem to mind as you deepen the kiss, your mouth parting around a moan. It’s over too soon, though. 

A delicate string of spit connects him to you as you pull back.  “Take what you need, ba—”

He’s moving before you even finish the endearment, hands racing across your body, tugging at fabric, kneading skin—anything he can touch. His jacket is around your shoulders in no time, protecting you from the rough brick. The cuffs on his belt clang as he unfastens the homemade contraption, the button of his jeans next.

“Oh, thank you, baby,” he breathes into your mouth, using his full weight to trap you against the wall. “Thank you, thank you—shit! You’re so good to me,” he whimpers, bucking his hips as he frees his length, wrapping a hand around the base until it throbs beneath his unyielding grip. “So fuckin’ good to me. Wanna be good to you, too.”

He fumbles a bit, struggling to move while still trying to maintain every point of contact he can. Once he manages to pick up your thigh, hitching it onto his hip, he guides the blunt tip of his cock through your slick folds. A soft mewl escapes you and the sound only makes him twitch, a stream of sticky precum dribbling from his slit. 

“Wanna be inside you. God, I always wanna be inside you—”

Your voice cuts him off, strained with a familiar need as your forehead falls to his. “Please, Eddie— Please just fuck me already, I can’t—”

His body responds before his mind even registers the plea, jerking forward until he’s buried deep inside you. A resounding groan echoes through the empty alleyway, drowning out your shrill cry. Though, you have enough sense to slam a hand over your open mouth, muffling the lewd noise

He, however, is too drunk to care. Drunk on the alcohol humming in his bloodstream. Drunk on the feeling of your walls squeezing him so tight, he could count your heart rate just from the pulse of your pussy alone. 

“Ohh, my—fuck! Jesus, fuck—you’re tryin’ to kill me, you’re tryin’ to kill me,” he babbles incessantly, squirming from the pressure. 

Your hand drops to his shoulder, holding onto him so tightly, your fingers pinch. “E—ddie, shh—ah!” 

Torturously slow, he pulls out. Your cunt clings to him, contracting—almost a proper plea to stay—and yet, you seem to revel in the drag of his length. He knows you feel it. The thrum of his veins, the curve that stretches you, the thick ridge that catches on your entrance. 

With just the tip inside, he shudders, his head hanging as he stares downward. The bright neon sign on the corner of the building beams, making his cock shine with your arousal.

He pauses. 

Then, his hips snap forward, marking the start of a suffocating rhythm as he forces the breath from your body with every thrust. He moves wildly, a frenzied pace with one intention, and one intention only. 

“Oh, God, oh, shit, baby! You feel s’good.… Takin’ such good care o’ me—thank you! Thank you— S’sweet to me—” he pants, slipping a large, heavy hand behind your neck until your gaze drops, joining him as he watches himself disappear inside of you. “Ah, look at that— Mmm, so pretty when you’re full o’ me.” 

The wiry hair at the base of his shaft begins to stick to his skin, weighed down by the mess he’s making out of you. Glimmering slick forming a milky ring, droplets splashing from the strength of his thrusts. A giddy chuckle rumbles through his chest, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he admires just how wet you are. How wet he makes you.

The sound of his leather jacket scratching against the brick fills his ears as he falls against you, muscles straining. Your eyelids droop low, but your gaze hasn’t moved from where he’s fucking into you. His mouth finds yours, lips gliding as he hungrily swallows your every moan. 

Sweat beads at his hairline, and his nails sink into your thigh, drawing you impossibly closer. Because he needs more. He needs all of you. Your walls are pried apart by his thick length and it’s still not enough. 

He lets go of your neck, pushing two fingers into your mouth. “Suck.”

His breath turns ragged and you finally look at him, your eyes dark and glossy as your lips reach his knuckles, your cheeks hollowing out in that way that always makes his knees buckle. His hips jerk, rhythm shifting at the memory.

He can feel the flames spreading, overtaking the hearth, but he’s not ready yet. He’s not done with you. 

His fingers fall from between your lips as he reaches below, pressing tight circles into your clit. You choke on your breath and the sharp sound makes him grin.

“Yeah, there you go, sweetheart. Fuck—you’re so tight! Squeezin’ the life outta me— God, I know you wan’ it—cum for me. Soak my fucking cock,” he grits out, watching your eyes roll with rapt attention. “Mark me, baby, drown me—”

“F-Fu— Eddie!” 

Your back arches and you go rigid; he knows you’re on the very edge. He knows you. He knows the exact high your voice reaches before you come undone, and even though you’re trying not to, he knows you’re losing yourself.

“Give it to me,” he drawls, practically purring at you. “Give in, baby. Please, I know you need it—”

“Shh, shh, we have to—b—e quiet! You have t—o keep it d— Oh, God!”

Your cunt clenches around him, tighter than he can handle after suffering from your denial for so long. You're moving against him now, convulsing and chasing after the pleasure like an ebbing wave. His body starts to curl inward, but he tries his best to keep a good enough pace. Your moans ring in his ear as he drives into you, shivering at the obscenely wet sounds.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! F-Feels so— God, ‘m g-gonna fill you up, baby. Hm? You wan’ it? Wanna feel full o’ me? Wanna hold it for me? You’re always so good at it—”

His breathless words seem to have no effect on you as you settle limply, held up by his frame and the wall at your back. You give no indication that you heard him, there’s only the flutter of your lashes and the lull of your head against the brick. His palm presses against your neck, just enough to keep you still, to hold your far-out gaze. 

“You listenin’? Hm?” he pants, landing a firm kiss on your slackened mouth. “Y’gonna empty my balls for me, baby? Know you love to feel me drippin’ outta you.”

Your cunt responds with a weak pulse. He chuckles, only to be cut off by his own sputtering groan as a particularly deep stroke shoots right through him. You whimper, and he knows he’s the only thing keeping you from buckling to the ground as your arms struggle to wrap around him.

“E-Eddie…”

Static buzzes in his mind as you mewl, soft gasps hiccuping in time with his pounding thrusts. His hand drops low, splaying just beneath your navel. Then, he presses, relishing the catch in your breath. 

“Ah, there I am,” he mutters, going dizzy at the feeling of his cock-head nudging his palm. “Here, right? Y’gonna keep me here, baby?”

You nod, letting out a frail, broken sound that tells him all he needs to hear. You want it. Need it, even.

His eyes roll, balls pulling taut as his rhythm falters. “Oh, f-fuck! Jesus Christ, you’re made f’me—you are,” he grunts, nosing against your neck. “Fit together so nicely. Hmm, made f’me, made to be full o’ me—”

Your face crumbles as you clench around him once more, another orgasm rolling in, quiet as a tide, and this time it’s softer. He can still feel you shake, but there’s a dragging sense of freedom. Of letting go.

And you drag him with you. Under the tide. Under the surface where everything sounds fuzzy and he feels weightless. 

“Jesus—fuck! Ah, shit!”

He gives one final, deep thrust, burying himself inside your heat as he spills into you. Waves of pleasure crash through him, so overwhelming, his hips stall. He shivers, almost violently, and his words tumble out, barely loud enough to be a whisper. “God, baby, thank you. T-Thank you. Shit—you’re so good to me.” 

He stays like that—arms wrapped around you, your fingers in his hair—for a while. It’s only when you shift, repositioning yourself against the wall, that he picks his head up. Indulging himself in your gentle kiss. His languid lips speak a sweetness far greater than his words could manage at the moment.

“I feel better now,” he mumbles, letting himself explore along your jaw, lazy and sated, but needing to taste you all the same. 

“Yeah, I bet,” you snort, tucking his hair behind his ear, then twisting a damp curl around your finger. 

With much reluctance, he finally pulls out, both of you wincing at the loss. He fixes himself quietly, buttoning his pants again and hiding his smile as he notices you squirm. You adjust his jacket over your shoulders and smooth your skirt. His eyes follow the movement and all he can think about is how much he wishes he could just sit on the ground beneath you and watch himself leak out of your pretty pussy. 

But then you clear your throat, motioning to the end of the alley and he offers his arm. You smirk, shaking your head as you accept his offer. As he passes under the neon sign that says, “Bar,” he stares at the entrance to the building.

“Mm, I wan’ a beer,” he hums wistfully, starting to veer off course.

“Unh-unh!” Both of your hands circle his bicep, yanking him back. “No, we’re leaving. I’m taking you home.”

“But—”

“No ‘but’s.” You continue to drag him further away from the bar, heading toward his van. “You’re going home, then you’re going to sleep. And tomorrow, you’re gonna call up Steve and apologize for trying to fight him.”

Eddie’s face twists up, a sharp scoff falling from his lips. “‘M not apologizing. He was trying to touch you—”

“No,” you utter pointedly, digging into his back pocket—ignoring his quiet, “Hey, buy me dinner first”—and pulling out his keys. “He was not, that was you. He was trying to stop you because he thought you were being a perv.”

“I was being a perv,” he grins, watching you unlock the van. You shove him into the passenger side and he gracefully complies, settling in a haphazard huff. His eyes follow you through the windshield as you speedwalk around to the driver side door, which he reaches across the console to open for you. 

“An unwelcome perv,” you amend, climbing into the seat. You check the mirrors first, then turn the key in the ignition. Eddie sighs contentedly as the van rumbles to life, the tape he mixed for you already filtering through the stereo. 

He leans close, looming over you. With exaggerated slowness—a test, a toeing of boundaries—he drags two fingers up your thigh, beneath your skirt, until he feels the sticky combination of his cum and your slick smeared against your skin. “Knew you liked it,” he purrs lowly, sucking the digits clean. 

Your breath comes quicker and shakier as you give him a sidelong glance. “You’re disgusting.”

His grin stretches into something wolfish, something predatory and ostensibly clear-headed, despite the glossy look in his eyes and the sway in his body. Quickly, he makes another swipe between your legs, this time relishing the hitch in your throat as he grazes your warm, puffy folds. He shrugs, admiring the milky gleam on his fingers before taking them into his mouth once more. “Chef’s gotta taste his own food.”

With that, your trembling hand lands on the gear shift and the van jolts into reverse. 

A/ N: Guys, is this anything? Let me know🧎‍♂️It’s been in the drafts since October🥀  Also, it's the one year anniversary of me writing fics :) One year ago (almost to the day), I posted this rambling drabble. Since then, my work has improved so much, and I’ve gotten to talk to so many of you about your Eddie thoughts which is all I ever wanted from this.  Thank you for reading my silly, not-so-little ramblings. Thank you for making this an enjoyable space to create in. Thank you for always showing up to my ‘Is anyone interested in…’ posts with 110% enthusiasm. And thank you for talking to me about my writing. I think that’s what I appreciate the most—how much I get to connect with y’all over what I’ve worked so hard on. I love reading your reactions to my fics, I cherish them so deeply. I’m also glad you feel comfortable with me and enjoy my writing enough to want to hear my thoughts on your Eddie ideas. I love this space and I’m glad you guys are always down for a little chitty-chat.  Thank you for sticking around and taking an interest in my work and especially me as a person <3 Love you guys <3

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[love-hs28]

“is this anything” HELLO THIS IS EVERYTHING oh my goodness

[blues-main]

wanna bite them

bf!jj maybank x gf!reader | word count: 2.2k

you're obsessed with your boyfriend's biceps and jj wants to test just how obsessed

cw: sexting, self-pleasure (f and m), sex toys (dildo), rough sex, slight choking, headlock, mirror sex, unprotected p in v, fingering, hair pulling, biting (duh, it's jj's biceps hehe)

It was no secret that you were obsessed with your boyfriend’s biceps — constantly asking JJ to send you pictures of him flexing, wrapping your hand around his upper arm and holding on while the two of you walked. Your favorite had to be watching his biceps strain when he’d hold himself over you as he fucked you into the mattress. Your eyes would roll back, the sight enough to have you coming around him. 

So when JJ walks out of the chateau wearing a red muscle tee, arms on full display, you can’t help the way your words trail off mid-sentence or the way your eyes trace down the length of his arms. JJ’s oblivious, talking to John B, trying to convince him that he can be trusted with the twinkie for the day. 

He raises his arms, pointing to his chest as he pleads with John B, “Come on man, s’me, you can trust me.” 

You’re not paying attention to what the girls are talking about — Sarah and Kie rolling their eyes playfully when Cleo nods her head in JJ’s direction with a smirk, silently explaining why you’d gone bye-bye. You were practically salivating at the sight of his arm flexing, skin stretched tight around the ripple of muscle. He looked too good in that tee. You wanted to rip it off him and climb him like a tree. 

JJ looks over at you, smirking when he notices the way your eyes haven’t left his arms, or the way you gulp when his eyes meet yours. You look away, smiling nervously as JJ comes to sit next to you. He pulls you onto his lap, arm wrapping around you as he rests his chin on your shoulder. You feel the hard press of his chest to your back — warm and steady. He smells like the cheap cologne you bought him that you’d come to love. It smelt like safety and love and pure want.

JJ notices the way you shift against him — trying and failing to pay attention to what the group is talking about. He knows the effect he has on you— pressing himself closer, moving his lips to the shell of your ear. 

“What’s wrong baby? You seem like you’re on edge,” JJ whispers into your ear. 

“Nothing’s wrong Jayj, just missed you,” you mumble as you turn your head, nuzzling your face against his upper arm and placing a soft kiss to the skin. JJ shakes his head in disbelief, letting out a chuckle as his heart swells, completely in awe of his beautiful girlfriend so head over heels for him.

He knows it’s more than that, knows you’ve been wanting him for days, sending him texts of all the things you wanted him to do to you when you see him. 

I miss you so much JJ, want your fingers in me so bad

You had sent a video a couple minutes later — fingers sliding in and out of yourself, the sound of wet squelching heard along with your soft moans. 

Mine don’t get the spot like yours do. Want to hold onto your arm while you push them in knuckle deep

JJ had watched that video on repeat, groaning at the sounds of your wet pussy, sending you a video of his hand stroking his cock, arm flexing in the mirror before coming all over his hand, moaning your name. 

It had been all you needed to reach your orgasm, coming hard as you pictured him hovering over you. 

The next day it was a video of you fucking your dildo into yourself, moaning his name as your thighs shook. 

Need your dick deep inside me JJ please

Want you to wrap your arm around my neck and fuck me from behind

JJ could barely think straight when he opened your message, hand running down his face in defeat as he pulled his hard dick out of his shorts. 

Fuck baby, you’re going to be the death of me, i’m so fucking hard you have no idea, want to fuck that pussy so bad

You’d been going back and forth for the past week, both of you working late and well — busy. Today however, your schedules had lined up and you had your place to yourself for the night. Your panties were already soaked as the messages you had sent to each other played through your mind. You could barely care that you hadn’t seen the rest of your friends for two weeks — needing JJ more than ever. 

“I know how much you love when I wear this shirt. Know how much you love looking at my arms. You wanna take it off me?” JJ’s voice is low and rough in your ear, sending warmth down your spine. 

You nod slowly, pressing your thighs together, heart beating out of your chest at JJ’s words. You’re so aware of the group sitting so close, of your ass pressed to JJ’s dick. You feel him push his hips up — just the slightest bit — the movement so small it could easily be mistaken as JJ shifting his weight.

“Yeah I know you do baby.” He kisses the back of your neck, brushing your hair out of the way gently. His hand comes to rest on your thigh, thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin as you try to hold back a moan at the feel of him kissing your neck. You look around frantically — no one has noticed a thing, everyone too focused on John B and Sarah talking. 

You gasp when you feel him do it again, the feel of his dick hardening against your ass almost too much to bear. You can feel yourself dripping, panties sticking to you almost uncomfortably, pussy practically throbbing with need now. 

“JJ, pleaseee, let’s go.” You whine softly, head turned towards him so the others don’t hear. 

“Not yet baby, want to have you so ready for me, you’re trembling before I even fuck you.” JJ chuckles as you whine in protest, tugging on his hand.

JJ continues tracing maddeningly soft circles to your bare thigh, hand going higher and higher until his thumb is under the hem of your skirt. He places a kiss to the back of your neck every now and then, shifting underneath you, his hard dick pressing into your ass every time. You try to shift so that your pussy presses against his thigh — needing friction more than air, but JJ catches it — holding you in place, arm flexing against your stomach. 

“Want me to fuck you now baby?” 

You could cry as you nod — desperate for him to take you home. 

JJ groans when you push your ass into him, finally snapping and getting up, waving a quick goodbye to the pogues, not at all subtle about the way he drags you away — you giggling as he pushes you against the door of the twinkie, arm braced next to your head, lips catching yours in a heated kiss. His hands are all over you, groping at your chest, gripping your jaw hard as he guides your mouth along his. 

“Fuck, get in, get in.” JJ rushes to the other side, turning the ignition on and getting to yours in record time. He had almost pulled over to the side of the road to fuck you then and there when you had started palming at him through his shorts, your other hand rubbing over the wet spot on your panties, moaning JJ’s name as he drove. 

You’re in your bathroom now, completely naked, sitting on your sink with your legs wrapped around JJ’s waist, his fingers curling into you over and over as you hold onto him, watching the way the muscles in his arm flex with every movement. You’d already come once— JJ refusing to stop, the heel of his hand pressing into your clit. 

“You mean all that shit you sent me? You really want me to put you in a headlock and fuck you from behind?” JJ’s breathless as he pulls away from your neck. 

“Mhm, please JJ.” You grind your hips forward, chasing your orgasm.

“Fuck baby, you sure?” 

You smirk before turning your head to his other arm, biting down on his bicep as JJ groans, rutting his hips against your leg.

“M’sure, want it wrapped around me, pressing into my cheek while I watch in the mirror.” 

“If it’s too much or you need me to stop, tap my arm twice, okay?”

“I will, now please fuck me JJ.”

“You asked for it baby.” 

It’s so much — the stretch of him, the drag — every inch of his cock pushing through your warm wet walls.

He thrusts hard. Deep. 

You cry out—his tip hitting that soft spot inside you that has you shaking, knees threatening to give out. Your head falls forward — limp — eyes rolling back, not a single coherent thought running through you. 

You come back to the room when you feel a soft sting — JJ tugging at the roots of your hair — hard. His bicep presses into your cheek, arm tightening around your neck. You let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a moan and a gasp. 

“Look at me, baby. You’re gonna watch me fuck you, watch me ruin you.” His lips brush over your ear, your eyes fluttering closed at the feel of his hot breath. 

JJ places a soft kiss to your cheek, smirking at you in the mirror, watching as your eyes struggle to stay open. His dick nudges that spot inside you again — hard, steady and then again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Your head threatens to fall forward, mind going dumb on the pleasure rolling through you. You let out a soft, almost broken sound. It’s so small, barely a whimper, a moan of JJ’s name. The sound runs down his spine, settling at the base, his hips thrusting forward even harder.

“Oh my god JJ! Fuuuck JJ — that’s — you feel—” Your words cut off with a loud moan as JJ fucks you harder, your hips jutting against the hard sink, sure to leave bruises. You can barely care when JJ’s fucking you so good, you see stars. 

Your hands scramble for purchase, landing on the edge of the sink and gripping tight before quickly moving to hold onto his arm as it tightens around your neck. 

JJ’s eyes snap to yours in the mirror, slowing his thrusts and loosening his grip for a second to check that you’re okay. You push your ass back onto him, and push your cheek into his bicep, giving him a small nod and smiling wickedly as you watch his eyes roll back when you fuck yourself back onto him. You turn your head in his grip, and bite down on his bicep — hard. 

“Fuck, my filthy girl, you’re so perfect.” JJ practically growls, grip tightening, locking your head in place. His other hand digs into your hip as he pounds into you — the sounds of skin smacking filling the room once more. 

“Fuck JJ, m’gonna come again, fuck fuck fuck, please JJ please.” Your eyes close as you feel yourself get close, snapping open when you feel JJ pull your hair. 

“Watch, don’t take your — fuckkk ahh baby — don’t take…your eyes off me when you come.” JJ grunts as he fucks you impossibly harder. 

Your orgasm crashes into you like never before — your vision going completely white as you babble JJ’s name incoherently, clenching around him again and again. 

“Fuck baby, m’so close, where do you want me — shit baby, m’coming.” 

“Inside JJ, please, please,” you beg as you push your hips back to meet his thrusts, desperate to feel him reach his high. He comes with a loud groan, spilling inside you as his hips falter. You feel the rush of him, warm and wet, and push your hips back harder, fucking him through it. You come again — hot and fast — gushing around him and JJ’s breath stutters, head falling limp to your shoulder.

“Fuck baby, did you just come again? That quick?” JJ’s breathless, eyes wide as he feels you clench around him, sucking him in — unable to let out anything other than a loud moan. 

Your body is trembling, legs like jelly and brain turned to complete mush, whimpering as he pulls out of you. You can barely breathe, eyes still fluttering shut, head falling limp onto JJ’s shoulder. He turns you in his hold, holding you to his chest as his hand rubs up and down your back. 

You pull back slowly, looking up at him — soft, dazed, worshipful. His hand comes to rest on the side of your face, thumb brushing back and forth across your cheek as he gazes down at you with pure adoration. 

“Fuck baby, are you okay?” 

You giggle softly, “More than okay, JJ, that was perfect.” 

His lips find yours in a soft kiss, smiling against your lips, before pulling away laughing. 

“Did you really come again just from me coming inside you?” JJ teases. 

Your hand swats at his chest, gasping in mock offense. “Shut up, you love it.” 

He chuckles as he kisses your forehead, “I do love it, and I love you.” 

You turn away from him to turn the shower on — smiling wide, teasing. 

“I love you too, but not as much as I love your biceps.” Your hand wraps around his right arm, squeezing tight as you fake moan. 

JJ rolls his eyes playfully, shaking his head at you. 

God, you’re perfect, he thinks. His girl.

read my other works here: masterlist

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© daggersanddresses est. 2025

[prettytheyswag]

double fantasy

summary: confident city girl catches everyone’s attention including the hottest guy’s from each side of the island. What starts as a random invite to a party quickly turns into a tug-of-war for your attention. It’s clear that this ‘trio’ is about to get real messy.

warnings: MDNI 18+ , JJ Maybank x newgirl!reader x Rafe Cameron, smut , oral sex (both f and m receiving) , cum tasting (???) , p in v , teasing , unprotected sex (stay safe!!) , slight spanking.

a/n: hey!! In the middle of writing casual 2 and a new chapter of come back I’m cooking, I came up w this. Let me know your thoughts , would you want a part 2?? Likes make me giggly and Re-blogs earn you a kiss on the mouth.

words: 6.3k+

You stood behind the counter, your hands folding a pair of blue board shorts on autopilot while a loose strand of hair kept falling into your face. You tucked it behind your ear for the third time and blinked, already feeling the familiar ache of exhaustion creeping in. Three hours into your shift and this was only the morning half of your double shift day. The thought of the island club waiting for you tonight didn’t help , at all.

The shop around you buzzed quietly. Teenagers were clustered near the racks, their laughter bubbling up as they debated the best waves to catch today, while others were trash talking the tourists. Or better yet, “tourons,” as the locals liked to call them.

The bell above the door jingled, and….

JJ. of course.

He was one of the best surfers in the OBX , at least in the Cut , and even that felt like an understatement when you saw him out on the water, carving through waves like he was born for it.

He showed up every other day, sometimes just to hang out on the porch and talk trash with the locals, sometimes to swap boards and cause trouble , sometimes just because there was nowhere else he needed to be.

You don’t even flinch when his half-empty water bottle landed on the counter with a dramatic thunk.

“You’re getting tan, city girl” he points out ,

“Your tan’s the goal. You’re basically a walking SPF ad.” you roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitch as well.

“You want something?” you ask, pretending to go back to organizing the surf shorts.

He shrugs. “Thought I’d come annoy you for a minute. Maybe convince you to take a break and come watch the waves with me. Grab some ice cream , maybe”

You give him a look. The kind that said don’t play. “Yeah, well, I still have another six hours here , and then I’m heading straight to the Island Club for another six hour shift.”

He scoffs, sassy , “The island club, seriously?”

“What? Too classy for you?” You smile , nodding at his direction.

He makes a face like he just tasted something sour. “It’s not classy, it’s just full of-” He pauses, twirling his finger in the air like the word would appear. “Full of preppy guys with polos , button-downs and guys like Topper who’ve taken more L’s than their boat’s take gas”

You snort nodding “You’re not wrong on that.”

“So let me get this straight. You're gonna spend all day in here folding board shorts and selling board wax , then go spend all night pouring overpriced drinks for Kooks who’d run over a sea turtle just for the fun of it?”

“Yup,” you say, popping the p. “And then I’m gonna do it all again tomorrow, and the day after that”

He let out a low whistle , clearly sarcastic “Living the dream , city girl.”

You mock-bow. “Thank you for your support, Sherlock”

“Well,” he says, drawing the word out as he stretches his arms over his head, “don’t work too hard. Would be a shame if you showed up to the party this weekend looking like you got hit by a truck full of surf wax and spilled mojitos.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Did you just subtly ask if I’m going?”

“What? No. I was just… making an observation. A very general, completely hypothetical observation.” He chuckles , scratching the crook of his neck.

“Right,” you stretch out the word holding back a giggle “okay , then. I’ll take it easy.”

JJ smiles, biting the inside of his cheek, but his eyes flickered toward the door, like he didn’t actually want to leave just yet. “So… you coming?”

You shrug,“If I survive the next few shifts without collapsing. And if I feel like dealing with drunk Kooks and backyard beer pong, then maybe”

“There’ll be fireworks,” he says. “And maybe , i’ll make sure I steal a keg stand with your name on it.”

You laugh, for real this time, the kind that sneaks up on you when you’re trying to act unbothered. “Oh, a keg stand with my name on it? Trying to impress me?”

“Is it working?” He asks , smiling like a little kid , readjusting his backwards cup a few times.

It is working. And that’s the problem.

You tilt your head, putting your armor back on. “Maybe. But don’t think a stolen keg stand’s gonna win me over that easy.”

The bell jingles again as the door swings open, and JJ gives you one last look , lifting two fingers before stepping out into the sunshine.

You watch him go, a soft smile lingering on your lips as you shake your head.

Fuck.

Were you blushing?

Nope.

The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky a soft pink as you finished up with your shift at the surf shop. Now, it was time to switch gears. Time to trade sandy boards and wax for the crisp work polo and mini skirt of the Island Club.

Sliding behind the gleaming bar, you took a steadying breath. This was your grind now, the night shift that paid better but came with a different kind of challenge. The surf shop had JJ , but the Island club had Rafe.

Rafe Cameron.

Speaking of the devil , for everyone else at least …

He sat on your section , like always. You had the power to soften him up , just a bit , just enough for him to not want to bite your head off.

“Hey,” he said quietly, voice lower than usual, like he was measuring how tired you really were. No smirk, just the ghost of one. “Long shift?”

You nod, tucking your notepad into your apron. “Double. Again.”

“Same drink?” you ask, already reaching for the top shelf.

“Yeah, whiskey” he replies, then hesitating he asks “You eat yet?”

That made you pause. These days it seems he’s on the top of your list of people who care enough to ask something about you. Which was strange.

“Uh..no, no time. Came here straight from the surf shop”

He doesn’t say anything, just gives a small, almost imperceptible nod, a silent ‘noted’ before his gaze drifts away for a moment, disapproving but unspoken.

You slide the whiskey glass to him and he mumbles a ‘thank you’ taking a sip , swirling the golden liquid on his tongue.

The bar buzzed around you as you kept moving between orders and customers , glasses clinking, soft laughter, music humming in the background, you couldn’t help sneaking glances his way every now and then. He watched you, but not in a way that made you uncomfortable, more like someone silently rooting for you to make it through the night without collapsing on the floor.

Once, he caught you staring, a real smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, gentle and unexpected. He shook his head like he was amused by his own soft side.

The rest of the night passed in a blur , orders, tired steps, and phony smiles that made your cheeks hurt. Somewhere along the way, Rafe disappeared, probably slipping out without a word. You found yourself watching the door for a moment longer than usual, disappointment bubbling quietly in your gut.

You slung your bag over your shoulder, stepping out into the humid Carolina night air, finally free from the polished quiet of the club and already daydreaming of the soft bed waiting for you at home. You were halfway to your bike when you heard him behind you, calling your name , a teasing ‘miss’ on the front of it.

“Rafe?” you turn clawing nervously at the strap of your bag, “thought you left”

“Without saying goodnight?” He shakes his head “I would never”

He hesitates, then pulls a brown paper bag from the backseat of his car , closing the door behind him. “Got you something. Couldn’t leave you starving.”

You blink , once again , caught off guard “You got me food?”

He shrugs, easy. “Yeah. Figured you’d want to eat before you crash. Burgers okay?”

He nods at the steps outside the country club and starts walking there , bag in hand , assuming you’ll follow , and you do.

You both settle on the cool concrete steps. He pulls out the burgers, handing you one along with a small paper carton of fries, carefully setting the bag down so the food wouldn’t touch the pavement.

Rafe takes a big bite of his burger , tossing a fry on his mouth , “You’ll come to the party this weekend , right?”

You wipe some ketchup from the corner of your mouth and shrug “What’s the deal with this party ? You’re the second person asking me today”

That makes his eyebrows lift, fry still mid-air. “You saying I’ve got competition?”

You grin around a bite “Depends. You planning on stepping up your game?”

He lets out a laugh, sitting back on his hands, swallowing his bite and titling his head “I brought you dinner, didn’t I? That’s gotta count for something, right?”

You tilt your head, tapping your chin and pretending to think it over “Hmm. You can’t just win me over with a burger”

“So I do gotta step up my game , huh?” He hums , taking another fry.

“You might” you chuckled.

The bonfire was already raging by the time you got there.

Which made complete sense. Around here, this monthly party had earned its own nickname , the three-way burrito , because it was the only place you’d ever find Kooks, Pogues, and Tourons all in one spot without someone throwing a punch, or someone’s head flying off their shoulders.

Well… most of the time.

You’re not even sure who actually convinced you to show up tonight.

Was it the stolen keg stand with your name on it?The late-night burgers on the country club steps?

No idea. Probably both. Probably neither.

You’d spent all day elbow-deep in surf wax and then six more hours serving rich old men. You had no business being out here. But here you were, shoes already full of sand, stepping straight into the chaos. Already half-regretting trading your warm , soft bed for this.

You were still trying to decide if the noise, the heat from the bonfire, and the smell of smoke mixed with salty ocean air were worth it, when the familiar voice cut your attention.

“I was hoping my keg stand would lure you to come” JJ says, grinning like he’d won some private bet.

“I don’t see a personalized keg stand though” you look around , and smirk when your gaze meets his again.

He scratches the back of his neck, sheepish but cheeky. “Didn’t want to go to jail and miss you.”

You sigh, playing the drama queen. “I’ll let it slide , this time. But don’t let it happen again.” You point a finger at him, half warning, half teasing.

You were still laughing at JJ’s pouty face when you felt it , that shift. Like someone turned the volume down on everything but your pulse.

It didn’t take long to spot him.

Rafe.

Of course.

Cause this was your life now.

JJ straightens up slightly beside you, jaw ticking just once.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” Rafe finally says.

“Me neither , honestly , but I couldn’t resist” you say , making sure both of them feel included.

“Good thing I brought backup,” JJ adds, gesturing vaguely toward the keg like it was some grand romantic gesture. “She’s got a VIP spot.”

Rafe’s gaze doesn’t waver “Yeah? Funny. I thought she already had one.” He says pointing vaguely at himself.

“You two fighting over VIP privileges now?” You scoff , playfully rolling your eyes.

JJ grins. “What can I say? I know a star when I see one.”

Rafe’s eyes never leave yours, “So do I.” He says like a child fighting for your attention.

You snort, biting back a smile. “Alright. If you keep this up , I might start charging appearance fees.”

JJ dramatically claws at his heart. “Worth every penny.”

Rafe, still calm and collected, takes a slow sip from his cup. “I’d pay in cash.”

The party has thinned out, the fire burning low now. You were seconds away from leaving without saying goodbye to anyone. You’d made your appearance, you’d survived the chaos, and now you wanted your soft sheeted cloud bed more than you wanted air.

You were just brushing sand off your legs when JJ appears again, drink in hand and his hair messier than before.

“Heading out?” he asks, tilting his head like a golden retriever.

You nod. “Yeah. Before I fall asleep standing up.”

JJ grins. “Cool. I’ll walk you, yeah?”

You open your mouth to respond but..

Once again.

Rafe.

He waves a hand , dismissively “I’ll walk her”

JJ scoffs half-joking. “Oh, we’re doing this now? That’s not your call”

“Everything about her is my call” Rafe narrows his eyes.

Your hands go up like you were breaking up a fight in gym class. “Yeah, no. This is not a custody battle. I’m just trying to go home.”

JJ throws his hands up. “I’m just saying I offered first-”

“And I’m just saying she doesn’t need you hovering over her like a golden retriever.” Rafe shoots back

You pinch the bridge of your nose sighing “How about you both walk me , or maybe neither?”

Silence. One heartbeat. Then two.

JJ blinks. “I mean…yeah?”

Rafe looks at you, then at JJ, then back at you again , then grumbled “Fine.”

You give them both a look, unimpressed but secretly amused. “Cool. Great. Let’s go, bodyguards.”

The three of you fall into step, the party noise fading behind. Sand shifts beneath your feet, cool now in the late night air.

JJ was chatting, trying to keep the mood light, but you could tell he was watching you closely, like you were the most important thing in the world.

Rafe walked quietly, his eyes locked on the path ahead but occasionally darting to you, like he was guarding some secret he didn’t want you to see.

“So,” JJ said, breaking the silence, “how’s the double shift treating you? Ready to sign up for another round?” His grin was teasing, but you caught a flicker of genuine concern.

You snort. “Are you kidding? I’m counting down the minutes till I’m horizontal.”

Rafe’s voice cut in, calm but with an edge you couldn’t ignore. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re not invincible.”

“You’re underestimating me” you tease “Maybe I just like having you both worrying,” you add, voice low, almost daring.

JJ grins like he’s won a secret prize. “Told you. VIP treatment all the way.”

You reach your door, keys clinking softly as you dig through your bag. The silence behind you stretches just long enough to feel awkward , and kind of funny.

You glance over your shoulder.

“Well. Since you both insisted on walking me all the way home... might as well come in for a bit.”

They blink. Like you’d just spoken in another language.

JJ’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, wha-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Rafe mutters, elbowing him hard in the ribs.

JJ stares at him for a beat, then just grins, shaking his head. “Fine. Cool. No commentary.”

You unlock the door and step inside like it’s no big deal , even though your pulse is tapping annoyingly at your neck and you can practically feel them both thinking way too loudly.

You glance over your shoulder again.

“You gonna come in, or what?”

They follow you in , JJ first, bouncing in like he’s been here a hundred times, even though he definitely hasn’t. His shoes squeak a little against the hardwood. Rafe lingers by the door a second longer. His shirt clung to the curve of his biceps, damp from the heat and salt air . His hand brushing the frame before he finally steps inside, eyes scanning the place like he’s trying to memorize it.

You hang your keys on the brass hook next to your door and take off your shoes. “Don’t touch anything sacred,” you say, half-joking, half-not.

JJ’s already eyeing the vintage record player in the corner. “So this is your cave of mystery, huh?”

You snort, dropping your bag by the couch. The cushions let out a soft sigh as the bag sinks in. A blanket is still draped over one armrest, rumpled from last night.

“Cave of exhaustion,” you correct. “Where I collapse and pretend tomorrow doesn’t exist.”

Rafe leans back against the wall. His arms are crossed, but his fingers twitch restlessly at the edge of his short sleeve. His blue eyes following every move you made, like he was committing each one to memory, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

You raise an eyebrow. “You good?”

He nods once, slowly. “Didn’t expect to be here.”

“Neither did I,” you admit, and for a second, that hangs between you three, honest and weirdly intimate.

You swallow hard, suddenly aware of the way his quiet steadiness pulled at something inside you , like gravity you couldn’t fight. Where JJ was light and easy, Rafe was a steady rhythm you could lean on.

You grab three sodas from the fridge, press the cold tints to your arm to cool yourself down before tossing them one by one. JJ catches his like it’s a game. Rafe barely glances up and still snags his mid-air.

“And a good host” JJ noted chuckling.

You go to catch your last tint, but it slips from your fingers. Time slows for a beat before Rafe’s hand is there, steady and sure, catching it before it hits the floor. Your fingers brush , just for a second , light enough you almost think you imagined it. Still, it makes your pulse jump.

“Got you” he says.

You set your soda down on the coffee table, the clink echoing softly in the quiet room. Both of them follow suit, the three of you now clustered in the small living room. You settle next to JJ on the couch, shooting a glance his way before patting the empty space next to you.

“Come on,” you say, voice casual but with a hint of challenge.

Rafe eyes the spot, then you, and finally slides in next to you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. JJ shifts just a little, grinning like he’s betting the night’s just getting started.

They both look at you, eyes wide and curious, like they’re waiting for you to drop the secret you haven’t shared yet. You watch them, shifting your gaze between JJ’s confident grin and Rafe’s steady, unreadable expression.

Rafe’s eyes flicker back to you, a flicker of nervous excitement dancing just beneath his calm exterior. For a second, he looks almost caught off guard , like he’s wondering if this is really happening.

You lean in slowly, the air between you charged and electric. His breath catches when your lips meet his, sweet and sure, like you’ve been holding back just as much as he has.

You pull back just enough to catch your breath, your pulse hammering loud in your ears. Without missing a beat, you turn toward JJ.

He catches the shift instantly, his confident grin widening as you lean in and press your lips to his , sweet and sure all over again.

JJ’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, then he’s all in, the spark between you crackling as his hand finds the small of your back, pulling you a little closer.

Rafe clears his throat, but the corners of his mouth twitch into a reluctant smile.

You bite your lip and then without missing a beat , JJ is kissing your shoulder while on the other side Rafe kisses your neck. JJ’s lips are warm and light, a featherlike touch that makes you catch your breath. Your breath catches, uneven and shallow. On the other side, Rafe’s gentle kisses trail along your neck, steady and quiet, like he’s trying to memorize the moment

You lean into the feeling, eyes practically rolling back , savoring the closeness. Your fingers drift to Rafe’s arm, warm fingertips resting there softly, while your other hand tangles JJ’s hair tensing around it and cradling his head close to your skin.

“You’re so beautiful” one of them murmurs. You don’t know which , and somehow, that makes it better. Hotter.

You don’t even answer , not with words. Instead, you let your fingers trail up Rafe’s arm, slow and deliberate, until your hand rests over his chest. You can feel his heartbeat there, quick beneath your palm. It’s a quiet giveaway. He’s always so composed, but not right now. Not with you this close.

JJ’s breath grazes your collarbone, a soft exhale that sends a shiver right through you.

His hand brushes your thigh, grounding, like he’s making sure you’re still here with him too.

You shift slightly, just enough to slide your top off, letting it fall beside the couch in a soft rustle of fabric. The air brushes against your bare shoulders, cooler than expected, goose bumps rising up your skin.

“Holy shit” JJ pants , voice low and ragged, thick with disbelief and something desperate.

You glance over at him through your lashes. His pupils are blown wide, cheeks slightly flushed, chest rising and falling a little faster than before. His fingers twitch against his pants, like he wants to touch but doesn’t know if he’s allowed yet. Like he doesn’t want to ruin it.

Rafe’s gaze is hotter, quieter. He hasn’t moved , hasn’t even blinked. But his eyes are locked on you. His tongue flicks across his bottom lip, slow, almost absentminded. His breathing is shallower now too.

Controlled.

Barely.

You tilt your head slightly, meeting each of their eyes in turn , holding Rafe’s just a second longer, then flicking back to JJ, whose breath visibly catches.

The air between you all is thick now , not just with tension, but with need and expectation.

Then, still wordless, you stand.

They both track your every move, heads tilted upward in awe. You pause, just long enough to let their imaginations go wild, then look over your shoulder with the kind of smile that says I know exactly what I’m doing.

JJ blinks. “Wait—”

Rafe doesn’t wait . He bolts up from his seat and follows you.

You don’t wait for them. You turn and walk down the short hallway, bare shoulders glowing in the dim light.

Behind you, you hear the shuffle of movement, the quiet curse from JJ under his breath, and Rafe telling him to ‘shut his mouth’.

You push open the bedroom door with your fingertips and slip inside.The air is cooler here, shadows stretching long across the floor from the hallway light. But it’s the scent that catches you first , warm, dreamy, and lingering , rose and gardenia, your favorite Maria Novella perfume still hanging heavy on the sheets, even hours after you sprayed it on yourself.

Rafe freezes just inside the doorway, like he’s stepped into a dream again, his breath shallow, eyes drinking in the space and you.

Slowly, he leans in, lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that makes your pulse quicken. His kiss deepens, slow and unhurried, the warmth of him grounding and electrifying all at once, when you feel a warm breath against the skin of your shoulder.

JJ’s mouth follows, pressing soft, fleeting kisses along the tender skin, light enough to send a shiver down your spine, his hands gently palming your breasts. His breath catching and your nipples hardening to the point of pain , straining against the lace of your bra, both from the fire of his palms and the breeze coming from the ceiling fan.

Your body shifts slightly between them, caught in the delicious pull of both their attention. The room hums with quiet energy, charged and full of unspoken promises.

Rafe pulls back, breath coming in slow, measured bursts, his eyes locking with yours. For a moment, he holds your gaze, as if silently asking for permission. The air between you feels charged, heavy with anticipation and aching need.

You nod, the movement small but enough to give him the green light. His hands move deliberately to the hem of his shirt, lifting it slowly. As he pulls the fabric over his head, you can’t help but watch the way his muscles shift beneath his skin, the smoothness of his chest catching the light in the room.

Behind you, you feel JJ’s presence even closer now, his chest lightly brushing against your back. His lips find your neck, hot against your skin, sending a ripple of heat pooling in your lower abdomen. The room is filled with a quiet, electric tension. The soft sound of your breaths, the barely-there movements of hands, it all creates a rhythm, a dance of need and quiet longing.

JJ watches Rafe for a beat, then huffs a soft laugh under his breath , like he’s not about to be outdone. He peels his own shirt over his head in one smooth motion, dropping it carelessly beside the bed.

You reach down slowly, fingers finding the zipper at your hip. You don’t rush. You don’t need to , not with their eyes on you like that.

The skirt slides down with a whisper of fabric against skin, pooling at your feet. You step out of it, deliberate, almost teasing, the cool air brushing your now-bare legs and raising goosebumps along your skin.

Neither of them says anything , they don’t have to. It’s written all over their flushed faces.

You walk backwards , until the back of your knees hit the bed. You lay down and their eyes follow your hands as you slowly peel the black lace down your knees. Rafe steps closer , unable to resist he ran his hand up your thigh , raising goosebumps on the skin. You moan softly at his warm fingertips , and he grasps the lace panties lying on your knees jerking it completely off and putting them on his pocket. He looks at you in a way that makes you want to melt , right here and there , next to the pile of clothes on the floor.

The mattress sank , slightly, as JJ crawls next to you , his tongue and teeth dragging along your collarbone and up your neck , breath warm and tickling as he panted , “That okay?” Toying with the strap of your bra.

“Yes” you breathe , more like a gasp as you feel Rafe’s mouth on your legs , kissing behind your knee before draping your leg over his shoulder , his hot lips now trailing up your thigh , the ache between your legs almost unbearable , you have to try and squeeze your legs together.

“Uh uh” he disapproves , breathy , teasing , nudging your legs apart and settling his head between them.

You were about to beg , beg for him to do something , anything to relieve the tension that’s building on your body. But JJ’s mouth on yours shut you up , his touch was electric , the sensation combined with Rafe’s was almost too much. But at the same time , not enough.

Rafe’s hands grip your hips , like they are his lifeline. Kneading the flesh filling his palms. “You’re so soft” he murmurs against the skin of your stomach , trailing hot open-mouthed kisses , throwing a nip here and there , as if trying to taste you fully.

“Rafe” you gasp as he hums , the sound making your already sensitive pussy vibrate , and he groans in response unable to stop himself. He kisses on the mound gently , running a finger up your lips. You moan again , and wanting to make sure JJ feels included you tug at his hair , pulling him in another heated kiss , letting him swallow your moans with his tongue.

You shiver as JJ slides your bra completely off , letting your breasts spill free. Hot and hungry his mouth latches onto a nipple sucking so hard , strings of drool appear. Hands flying on both of the guys heads. One on Rafe’s head , who’s face was buried in between you hips , taking care of the aching need deep inside you , and the other running through JJ’s blonde messy hair , tugging him closer to your breasts. Each demanding attention.

Rafe’s warm fingertips teased your swollen clit , rubbing slow and gentle circles while his tongue was licking flat and slow stripes in between your pussy lips. Moaning like he was the one receiving all the pleasure.

“Oh fuck” your hips stutter against his mouth , back arching off the bed and into JJ’s hot skin. Rafe lifts his head , chin glistering with both his saliva and your juices.

He doesn’t mind.

Not at all.

He savors it.

Panting and slightly trembling, you change positions, making them both lay next to each other , heads resting against the headboard of the bed. Your fingers find their way to both their waistbands , tugging at the fabric , they get the cue , quickly lifting their hips and removing their pants and boxers all at once .

Cause no man could ever deny you anything , least of all JJ and Rafe.

Their cocks swinging free. Both hard and throbbing with want. You engulf Rafe’s in your mouth and down your throat, tasting the saltiness on his pre-cum on your tongue , expertly rolling the foreskin back , while your hand reaches to stroke JJ’s cock , exploring it with you slender fingers and teasing the slick sensitive tip with your thumb.

Rafe’s hips jerk up “fuck” he groans , and it may be the hottest thing you’ve ever heard, and blended with JJ’s strangled noises as you circled the tip of his cock?

Heaven.

You switch between them a few times , taking JJ’s entire length on you mouth , right down to the root, lips parting around him , hollowing your cheeks in a way that made his hips buck. Meanwhile Rafe writhes and pants as he watches you with JJ and feels your fingertips squeezing teasingly his wet heat.

At some point , Rafe positions himself over you, his thighs on either side of your hips, his burning gaze locked with yours. The air is charged with an electric tension that makes you shiver. Your body is humming in anticipation, the proximity of these two men driving you to the brink of insanity. “Just like that,” he murmurs breath hot and burning against the tender skin of your neck “my turn yeah?”.

“And what? I just watch?” JJ pants , a small scoff escaping him.

“Yeah you shut the fuck up and take the backseat” Rafe snaps.

JJ huffs on your side and continues leaving open-mouthed kisses on the skin of your neck and jaw , brushing your hair out of your face , his hand slipping in between you bodies and pinching your nipple, making you gasp so he could swallow it right up.

Your thighs clench into Rafe’s sides as he shifts rubbing the head of his cock against your folds , using your heat as lubricant , blended with his pre-cum. And he makes eye-contact.

Fuck.

The sensations almost overwhelming. The fire of his blue eyes burning through yours , JJ’s soft lips and tongue trailing kisses along your skin, impossible for you to focus on either.

Rafe’s cock disappears into your body with a long steady thrust, making your head fall on your side , giving more access of your neck to JJ , who takes advantage of the position and devours your neck likes it’s his last meal.

“Fuck, fuck that-“ you gasp out nails digging on Rafe’s back,

“Don’t stop” your hips lifting involuntarily, trying to take Rafe deeper inside you. JJ kisses your mouth as you moan and reaches between your bodies to rub your swollen clit , making your head roll back.

“You’re perfect” Rafe pants in your ear, pushing his cock in and out of your sliding pussy in a way that makes your face grow hotter , that flush making him grunt , burying his face on your chest , sucking and bitting the flesh. “Shit I’m so close”.

JJ’s thumb on your mouth muffles your moans as you lick and suck on it, which turns him on even more , making him grow impatient for his turn to come.

Or cum. Which he already kinda was, by the way.

His rigid cock still untouched but already leaking at the tip , he rubs the cum with his finger and brings it back in your mouth , making you taste the saltiness of him , and you do . Gladly.

“Good, good girl” JJ breathes , voice low and velvety.

You lick your lip and gulp, the groaning sounds Rafe is making are almost your undoing. You try to hold on to something , a muscled arm , the back of a head , anything. Rafe caught up in his own orgasm, wraps your legs tighter around his waist to pull you even closer , heels digging into his ass , enough to emerge your bodies and souls together. He keeps kissing you everywhere , corners of your mouth , cheeks, jaw , ‘his’ side of your neck, while JJ has the other.

Rafe hits the sweet spot dip between your hips and you arch off the bed , a broken moan leaving your mouth as you hit your climax , Rafe already spilling deep inside you painting your walls white with his cum , pulling a bit out , making you both gasp and then sloppily pushing it back in, riding off both of you highs.

“My turn , man. Get off” JJ nudges Rafe’s shoulder , fed up and painfully turned on.

Rafe pulling out left you empty and slightly disappointed , but it doesn’t take long and you’re already stretched out again , now with JJ’s cock , Rafe’s cum making it easier to access and move, your already sensitive body already trembling.

On your side , Rafe is kissing your arm , down your hand and then up your shoulder , before connecting his mouth with yours , his hot tongue tasting all of you. One of your hands cup the crook of his neck as you moan in his mouth and the other digging on JJ’s muscled back , enough to make him his , the pain delicious and oddly erotic.

“Harder” you gasp squeezing your thighs around JJ , eyes rolling back.

“Harder?”

“Yeah” you moaned urging him by nipping at his shoulder.

Rafe pulls his mouth away for a second so JJ could flip you onto your stomach and get back on top of you. He spreads your cheeks and you arch your hips off the bed to give him better access. His callused palms grip your hips and groans as he enters you, “you okay?”

“Yeah” you moan , reaching for Rafe , who’s pressing velvet kisses on your back , pulling your hair to the side.

“Fuck you’re so hot” Rafe grabs your jaw so you could turn your head to the side and look at him as he spoke. Reaching between bodies and connecting his palm with your ass cheek , the red of his handprint painting your skin, making you gasp.

“Shit you like that huh?” JJ asks tauntingly thrusting deeper inside you, balls slapping against your ass cheeks.

“I love it” you moan feeling Rafe’s mouth on your neck again , marking his territory, breath hot and tingly against your skin.

JJ lifts his hand slapping against your ass , so now you’ve got the red of his handprint as well, making you push back against his cock, “you love it?”

“Yes ! Yes!” you hum, nodding vigorously against the sheets.

“Lets try something , get on your sides” Rafe orders , gesturing with his hands.

JJ furrows his eyebrows and reluctantly gets off you so you can turn on your side.

“Like that , get behind her”

JJ does so , spooning you from the back , hand around you waist , confused as fuck. “Now what , man?” He scoffs “you cant just blue-ball me like this”

Rafe says your name to grab your attention “You want us both?”

“Obviously?” You huff breathlessly.

“Wanna try both at the same time?” He asks , crawling to your other side so he was facing you. You paused and JJ went rigid behind you. “Y’know like..double penetration” he says , voice low and hopeful.

“I’m in” JJ blurts out.

“Yeah figured, I’m not asking you” Rafe rolls his eyes , keeping his gaze locked with yours to make sure you’re in on this and not uncomfortable.

“Yes” you nod.

You fucking nod.

Holy. Shit.

Both guys move quickly into position. JJ on your back and Rafe on your front.

JJ spreads your ass cheeks with his hands and slowly slides inside you , careful so you can adjust to the “fullness” of the filling. You reach behind your shoulder and touch his head , bringing his face closer to your neck.

Meanwhile Rafe is making sure your legs are held open as he thrusted from your front , his cock massaging your inner walls, eyes wide.

You want to both melt and tense at the same time. A delicious mix of pain and unbelievable pleasure. Neither of you moved for a while. You stay there , sandwiched between them , split open and absolutely stuffed. Every inch of you staying filled. No part dissatisfied.

Mute with ecstasy you can only breathe as the two men start moving , their thrusts gentle and careful. Their hands are everywhere. Rafe’s gripping your ass , bringing you closer to his body , JJ’s are on your breasts, cupping and squeezing your flesh while his breath tickles your ear.

JJ quickly reaches his climax , since he was already close. Forehead falling on the back of your shoulder , trailing lazy kisses on your back. “Jesus” he rasps and it’s enough to slide a shiver down your spine and bring you over the edge , arching to Rafe’s sweaty chest.

The added contact makes goosebumps run down his skin. With one last roll of his hips he releases his seed deep between your hips, still holding you close, he reaches up with his thumb , pulling your lower lip down and sucking on it with a hum. After a few moments , both of them slide out of you.

Then you slept , still sandwiched between the two guys in a familiar embrace. Even in sleep both men wordlessly competing for your attention and affection.

[love-hs28]

holy

SHIIIIITTTTTT this was incredible oh em gee

[blues-main]

wanna bite them

bf!jj maybank x gf!reader | word count: 2.2k

you're obsessed with your boyfriend's biceps and jj wants to test just how obsessed

cw: sexting, self-pleasure (f and m), sex toys (dildo), rough sex, slight choking, headlock, mirror sex, unprotected p in v, fingering, hair pulling, biting (duh, it's jj's biceps hehe)

It was no secret that you were obsessed with your boyfriend’s biceps — constantly asking JJ to send you pictures of him flexing, wrapping your hand around his upper arm and holding on while the two of you walked. Your favorite had to be watching his biceps strain when he’d hold himself over you as he fucked you into the mattress. Your eyes would roll back, the sight enough to have you coming around him. 

So when JJ walks out of the chateau wearing a red muscle tee, arms on full display, you can’t help the way your words trail off mid-sentence or the way your eyes trace down the length of his arms. JJ’s oblivious, talking to John B, trying to convince him that he can be trusted with the twinkie for the day. 

He raises his arms, pointing to his chest as he pleads with John B, “Come on man, s’me, you can trust me.” 

You’re not paying attention to what the girls are talking about — Sarah and Kie rolling their eyes playfully when Cleo nods her head in JJ’s direction with a smirk, silently explaining why you’d gone bye-bye. You were practically salivating at the sight of his arm flexing, skin stretched tight around the ripple of muscle. He looked too good in that tee. You wanted to rip it off him and climb him like a tree. 

JJ looks over at you, smirking when he notices the way your eyes haven’t left his arms, or the way you gulp when his eyes meet yours. You look away, smiling nervously as JJ comes to sit next to you. He pulls you onto his lap, arm wrapping around you as he rests his chin on your shoulder. You feel the hard press of his chest to your back — warm and steady. He smells like the cheap cologne you bought him that you’d come to love. It smelt like safety and love and pure want.

JJ notices the way you shift against him — trying and failing to pay attention to what the group is talking about. He knows the effect he has on you— pressing himself closer, moving his lips to the shell of your ear. 

“What’s wrong baby? You seem like you’re on edge,” JJ whispers into your ear. 

“Nothing’s wrong Jayj, just missed you,” you mumble as you turn your head, nuzzling your face against his upper arm and placing a soft kiss to the skin. JJ shakes his head in disbelief, letting out a chuckle as his heart swells, completely in awe of his beautiful girlfriend so head over heels for him.

He knows it’s more than that, knows you’ve been wanting him for days, sending him texts of all the things you wanted him to do to you when you see him. 

I miss you so much JJ, want your fingers in me so bad

You had sent a video a couple minutes later — fingers sliding in and out of yourself, the sound of wet squelching heard along with your soft moans. 

Mine don’t get the spot like yours do. Want to hold onto your arm while you push them in knuckle deep

JJ had watched that video on repeat, groaning at the sounds of your wet pussy, sending you a video of his hand stroking his cock, arm flexing in the mirror before coming all over his hand, moaning your name. 

It had been all you needed to reach your orgasm, coming hard as you pictured him hovering over you. 

The next day it was a video of you fucking your dildo into yourself, moaning his name as your thighs shook. 

Need your dick deep inside me JJ please

Want you to wrap your arm around my neck and fuck me from behind

JJ could barely think straight when he opened your message, hand running down his face in defeat as he pulled his hard dick out of his shorts. 

Fuck baby, you’re going to be the death of me, i’m so fucking hard you have no idea, want to fuck that pussy so bad

You’d been going back and forth for the past week, both of you working late and well — busy. Today however, your schedules had lined up and you had your place to yourself for the night. Your panties were already soaked as the messages you had sent to each other played through your mind. You could barely care that you hadn’t seen the rest of your friends for two weeks — needing JJ more than ever. 

“I know how much you love when I wear this shirt. Know how much you love looking at my arms. You wanna take it off me?” JJ’s voice is low and rough in your ear, sending warmth down your spine. 

You nod slowly, pressing your thighs together, heart beating out of your chest at JJ’s words. You’re so aware of the group sitting so close, of your ass pressed to JJ’s dick. You feel him push his hips up — just the slightest bit — the movement so small it could easily be mistaken as JJ shifting his weight.

“Yeah I know you do baby.” He kisses the back of your neck, brushing your hair out of the way gently. His hand comes to rest on your thigh, thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin as you try to hold back a moan at the feel of him kissing your neck. You look around frantically — no one has noticed a thing, everyone too focused on John B and Sarah talking. 

You gasp when you feel him do it again, the feel of his dick hardening against your ass almost too much to bear. You can feel yourself dripping, panties sticking to you almost uncomfortably, pussy practically throbbing with need now. 

“JJ, pleaseee, let’s go.” You whine softly, head turned towards him so the others don’t hear. 

“Not yet baby, want to have you so ready for me, you’re trembling before I even fuck you.” JJ chuckles as you whine in protest, tugging on his hand.

JJ continues tracing maddeningly soft circles to your bare thigh, hand going higher and higher until his thumb is under the hem of your skirt. He places a kiss to the back of your neck every now and then, shifting underneath you, his hard dick pressing into your ass every time. You try to shift so that your pussy presses against his thigh — needing friction more than air, but JJ catches it — holding you in place, arm flexing against your stomach. 

“Want me to fuck you now baby?” 

You could cry as you nod — desperate for him to take you home. 

JJ groans when you push your ass into him, finally snapping and getting up, waving a quick goodbye to the pogues, not at all subtle about the way he drags you away — you giggling as he pushes you against the door of the twinkie, arm braced next to your head, lips catching yours in a heated kiss. His hands are all over you, groping at your chest, gripping your jaw hard as he guides your mouth along his. 

“Fuck, get in, get in.” JJ rushes to the other side, turning the ignition on and getting to yours in record time. He had almost pulled over to the side of the road to fuck you then and there when you had started palming at him through his shorts, your other hand rubbing over the wet spot on your panties, moaning JJ’s name as he drove. 

You’re in your bathroom now, completely naked, sitting on your sink with your legs wrapped around JJ’s waist, his fingers curling into you over and over as you hold onto him, watching the way the muscles in his arm flex with every movement. You’d already come once— JJ refusing to stop, the heel of his hand pressing into your clit. 

“You mean all that shit you sent me? You really want me to put you in a headlock and fuck you from behind?” JJ’s breathless as he pulls away from your neck. 

“Mhm, please JJ.” You grind your hips forward, chasing your orgasm.

“Fuck baby, you sure?” 

You smirk before turning your head to his other arm, biting down on his bicep as JJ groans, rutting his hips against your leg.

“M’sure, want it wrapped around me, pressing into my cheek while I watch in the mirror.” 

“If it’s too much or you need me to stop, tap my arm twice, okay?”

“I will, now please fuck me JJ.”

“You asked for it baby.” 

It’s so much — the stretch of him, the drag — every inch of his cock pushing through your warm wet walls.

He thrusts hard. Deep. 

You cry out—his tip hitting that soft spot inside you that has you shaking, knees threatening to give out. Your head falls forward — limp — eyes rolling back, not a single coherent thought running through you. 

You come back to the room when you feel a soft sting — JJ tugging at the roots of your hair — hard. His bicep presses into your cheek, arm tightening around your neck. You let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a moan and a gasp. 

“Look at me, baby. You’re gonna watch me fuck you, watch me ruin you.” His lips brush over your ear, your eyes fluttering closed at the feel of his hot breath. 

JJ places a soft kiss to your cheek, smirking at you in the mirror, watching as your eyes struggle to stay open. His dick nudges that spot inside you again — hard, steady and then again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Your head threatens to fall forward, mind going dumb on the pleasure rolling through you. You let out a soft, almost broken sound. It’s so small, barely a whimper, a moan of JJ’s name. The sound runs down his spine, settling at the base, his hips thrusting forward even harder.

“Oh my god JJ! Fuuuck JJ — that’s — you feel—” Your words cut off with a loud moan as JJ fucks you harder, your hips jutting against the hard sink, sure to leave bruises. You can barely care when JJ’s fucking you so good, you see stars. 

Your hands scramble for purchase, landing on the edge of the sink and gripping tight before quickly moving to hold onto his arm as it tightens around your neck. 

JJ’s eyes snap to yours in the mirror, slowing his thrusts and loosening his grip for a second to check that you’re okay. You push your ass back onto him, and push your cheek into his bicep, giving him a small nod and smiling wickedly as you watch his eyes roll back when you fuck yourself back onto him. You turn your head in his grip, and bite down on his bicep — hard. 

“Fuck, my filthy girl, you’re so perfect.” JJ practically growls, grip tightening, locking your head in place. His other hand digs into your hip as he pounds into you — the sounds of skin smacking filling the room once more. 

“Fuck JJ, m’gonna come again, fuck fuck fuck, please JJ please.” Your eyes close as you feel yourself get close, snapping open when you feel JJ pull your hair. 

“Watch, don’t take your — fuckkk ahh baby — don’t take…your eyes off me when you come.” JJ grunts as he fucks you impossibly harder. 

Your orgasm crashes into you like never before — your vision going completely white as you babble JJ’s name incoherently, clenching around him again and again. 

“Fuck baby, m’so close, where do you want me — shit baby, m’coming.” 

“Inside JJ, please, please,” you beg as you push your hips back to meet his thrusts, desperate to feel him reach his high. He comes with a loud groan, spilling inside you as his hips falter. You feel the rush of him, warm and wet, and push your hips back harder, fucking him through it. You come again — hot and fast — gushing around him and JJ’s breath stutters, head falling limp to your shoulder.

“Fuck baby, did you just come again? That quick?” JJ’s breathless, eyes wide as he feels you clench around him, sucking him in — unable to let out anything other than a loud moan. 

Your body is trembling, legs like jelly and brain turned to complete mush, whimpering as he pulls out of you. You can barely breathe, eyes still fluttering shut, head falling limp onto JJ’s shoulder. He turns you in his hold, holding you to his chest as his hand rubs up and down your back. 

You pull back slowly, looking up at him — soft, dazed, worshipful. His hand comes to rest on the side of your face, thumb brushing back and forth across your cheek as he gazes down at you with pure adoration. 

“Fuck baby, are you okay?” 

You giggle softly, “More than okay, JJ, that was perfect.” 

His lips find yours in a soft kiss, smiling against your lips, before pulling away laughing. 

“Did you really come again just from me coming inside you?” JJ teases. 

Your hand swats at his chest, gasping in mock offense. “Shut up, you love it.” 

He chuckles as he kisses your forehead, “I do love it, and I love you.” 

You turn away from him to turn the shower on — smiling wide, teasing. 

“I love you too, but not as much as I love your biceps.” Your hand wraps around his right arm, squeezing tight as you fake moan. 

JJ rolls his eyes playfully, shaking his head at you. 

God, you’re perfect, he thinks. His girl.

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[champagnefever]

synopsis: A shared shower in a new apartment turns into something far less practical when Steve Harrington decides rules were made to be bent. What starts as playful banter quickly becomes a reminder of how deeply familiar—and irresistible—love can feel.

w/c: 1.7k

warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI, Older Steve Harrington, Established Relationship, porn with a teeny bit of plot, Shower Scene, Suggestive / Mature Themes, Flirting & Teasing, Domestic Intimacy, Soft Humor

You should’ve known letting Steve Harrington into the shower would never stay innocent.

The apartment still smells new.

Not clean, exactly—more like cardboard boxes and fresh paint and the faint citrus cleaner you bought because it felt like something an adult would own. The bathroom is the warmest room in the place, steam already curling out into the hallway, fogging the mirror you haven’t hung yet.

You’re mid-shower, hair slicked back, eyes closed, letting the water do its thing when you hear it—

A knock. Then the door creaks open without waiting for permission.

“Y’know,” Steve’s voice drifts in, smug and familiar, “statistically speaking, shared showers cut water usage in half.”

You don’t even turn around. “You just made that up.”

“Did not,” he says, offended. “I read it. Somewhere.”

“On a cereal box?”

He laughs, that easy, low sound that carries through the steam. You hear him lean against the doorframe. You picture him there without looking—older Steve, comfortable, barefoot, probably wearing the T-shirt he slept in because you haven’t unpacked the dresser yet.

“I’m just saying,” he continues, “we’re adults now. Utilities cost money. Very responsible of me to care.”

You snort. “You left every light on in the living room.”

“That was for ambiance.”

You finally glance toward the curtain, the shadow of him distorted through the fogged glass. “You’re not coming in for the water. You’re coming in because you’re nosy.”

“Incorrect,” Steve says. “I’m coming in because this is our shower now, and I feel entitled to complain about how long you’re taking.”

There’s the soft slide of the curtain rings, just enough to make your pulse kick. He doesn’t pull it back all the way—just peeks in, steam curling around his face, hair already doing that thing it does when there’s humidity involved.

He pauses.

“Wow,” he says, quieter now. “Okay. I forgot how… steamy this gets.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “Get out, Harrington.”

“Can’t,” he says easily. “Already committed to the bit.”

He steps closer—not under the water, not touching—just close enough that you feel him there, the warmth of him mixing with the heat of the shower, the space suddenly smaller in a way that feels intentional.

“You know,” he adds, softer, teasing but fond, “first apartment together. First fight over water usage. Feels kind of… big.”

You tilt your head, meeting his eyes through the haze. “You’re ridiculous.”

He grins. “Yeah. But you moved in with me anyway.”

For a second, neither of you jokes.

The water keeps running. The apartment creaks. The world feels very small and very good.

“Okay,” you say finally. “You can stay.”

Steve’s smile turns slower. Warmer.

“Knew you’d see reason.” Steve says, like he hasn’t been waiting for permission since the moment he opened the door.

He stays where he is for a second, though—outside the spray, arms crossed, expression carefully casual. Like this is just a normal conversation people have while one of them is very much naked and the other is… pretending not to notice.

“I’m not actually getting in,” he adds quickly. Too quickly. “Just—standing. Talking. Supporting.”

“Supporting what?” you ask.

“Water conservation,” he says, immediately. “Moral support. Emotional support. I can do that clothed.”

You raise an eyebrow. He sees it. Sighs.

“Okay,” he says, holding his hands up. “Maybe not clothed. But that’s just because—” he gestures vaguely to the fogged bathroom, the steam, the heat, “—this apartment has, like, zero ventilation. I’m already sweating.”

He reaches for the hem of his T-shirt, pauses, glances at you. “You don’t mind, right?”

You give a noncommittal hum and turn back toward the water, very pointedly not watching.

Steve grins anyway.

The shirt comes off first. You hear the soft thump as it hits the counter. Then his socks—one, then the other—followed by the quiet jingle of his belt buckle. He’s narrating just enough to pretend this is practical.

“Just gonna—uh—put these here,” he mutters. “So they don’t get wet. Responsible. See?”

You feel him move closer, still not touching, still not under the spray. The air shifts. Warmer somehow.

“You know,” you say lightly, “most people don’t undress this thoroughly for a conversation.”

“Most people don’t live with someone who takes thirty-minute showers,” he shoots back.

You laugh, and that’s when he finally steps in—just barely. Not fully under the water, just close enough that stray droplets hit his shoulder, his arm. He exhales like the warmth surprises him.

“Oh. Wow. Okay. Yeah, that’s—hot.”

“Steve.”

“What?” he says, all innocence. “I meant the water.”

He turns toward you then, eyes soft, smile familiar and fond. There’s something different about him like this—older, settled, standing barefoot in a shared bathroom in an apartment you picked together. No rush. No urgency. Just… here.

“This is kinda nice,” he admits quietly. “Feels official. Like… we’re really doing this.”

You glance at him through the steam. “Standing in the shower arguing about utilities?”

“Living together,” he corrects, bumping your arm gently with his. “The arguing is just a bonus.”

For a second, he doesn’t joke.

He reaches out, fingers brushing your wrist—light, testing, like he’s still pretending he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing.

“Relax,” he murmurs, lips twitching. “I told you. No intentions.”

You snort. “Liar.”

He smiles wider. “Okay. Maybe just… flexible intentions.”

The water keeps running. The steam thickens. And Steve Harrington, soaking wet and pretending this is all very innocent, stays right where he is.

You turn toward the back of the shower, searching for the new body wash you just bought. You squeeze some onto your loofah, working it into a thick lather, deliberately taking your time.

“You know,” you say lightly, glancing over your shoulder, “if you’d waited about five more minutes, you could be taking a peaceful shower all by yourself—without complaining about the temperature.”

You smirk when you catch him watching you, his attention very obviously not on the water.

“What’s the fun in that?” he murmurs.

You start to soap up, slow and unhurried. When his eyes finally lift to meet yours, heat creeps up your cheeks, a bashful smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“Come on, Steve,” you say, looking away as the water cascades down your back. “No need to pretend you’re innocent.”

He hums softly. “You just make it really hard not to tease you.”

His hands finally come to your waist—cool from not being under the water as long. The contrast sends a shiver through you before you can stop it.

Your lips meet slowly, the kiss unhurried, almost exploratory. His are soft, but there’s intention there—always is. The familiar shiver runs up your spine, butterflies flooding your stomach as warmth pools low in your body.

“Steve…” you murmur when you pull back, breath uneven, suddenly very aware of how close he is—of how much closer he’s getting.

“God,” he exhales, voice rougher now. “I can’t take this any longer.”

Before you can respond, he lifts you effortlessly. You let out a startled yelp, instinctively clutching at him, a flash of worry slipping through the haze.

“Steve!” you scold, surprise sharp in your voice.

He grins, cocky and reassuring all at once. “What—do you really think I’d ever drop you?”

His hands are firm on your thighs, steady, grounding, even as the cool tile presses against your back and your senses threaten to overload. His smirk softens just a touch as he looks at you, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

And worse—like he knows you’re not going to stop him.

Your lips meet again, more hurried now—desperate, like there’s no time to make up for being apart any longer.

The thought of utilities flickers briefly through your mind, and you can’t help muttering, “Don’t you think we should take this to the bed—y’know, because the water—”

He cuts you off instantly.

“Too late to worry about silly things like that, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your mouth. “You’re not going anywhere.”

You don’t get the chance to argue. His lips find yours again, and your breath catches as you feel how close he is, the teasing finally giving way to something heavier as he pushes himself inside of you.

“Oh god… please, Steve,” you breathe, any remaining façade dissolving the moment you realize there’s no more space for restraint—only need.

He moves slowly, deliberately, but with unmistakable intention. The sensation steals the air from your lungs, filling a place that feels achingly familiar, like something that had been missing finally settling back where it belongs.

Steve exhales softly, almost a sigh of relief, pausing for just a second—eyes closed, mouth parted—as if he feels that same sense of completion.

“You have no idea how much I love this,” he murmurs, voice low. “Love you.”

When he starts to move, the angle is awkward for only a moment before he adjusts—instinctively finding what makes your breath stutter, your voice falter as pressure builds faster than you expect.

“Oh, Steve… you feel so good,” you manage, the words breaking as his pace picks up—not frantic, just steady enough that the pleasure stops coming in waves and becomes constant.

“You’re so perfect—your hair, your lips, your—oh god—”

Steve can’t finish the thought, pleasure overtaking him as his breath stutters, eyes darkening with it.

“I don’t—” he laughs breathlessly, shaking his head. “I don’t know how much longer I can take this. You feel too good. Way too good.”

His breaths come in short puffs as his gaze flicks between your face and where your pussy is gripping himp, and that’s what finally does him in. His eyes squeeze shut.

“M’coming,” he warns softly, voice breaking.

“Please,” you murmur, fingers threading through his hair as you gently tilt his head back, meeting his mouth in a heated, open kiss. “Come for me, baby.”

That’s all it takes.

Steve exhales a low, strained sound as he slows, holding you close, everything in him softening as the moment passes. He stays there for a beat, forehead resting against yours, breath still uneven.

Then, as the fog clears, he huffs out a quiet laugh.

“So,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your cheek, “guess we’re definitely blowing the water bill this month.”

You laugh softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Worth it,” you whisper.

He grins, pulling you closer. “Always is with you.”

[stevesgother]

Fuck, That's So Gross

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Two months ago you started dating your best friend of five years. It's weird sometimes. But you kind of love it.

CW: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, friends to lovers, fluff, piv smut, oral (r receiving), first time, cursing, pet names, smut portion is NOT proofread because i hate reading my own smut :)

@saradika-graphics for the divider! inspired, of course, by ftsg - emma andersen :)

For five years, you and Steve were just friends. Strictly platonic.

And not even in a 'wink wink' type of way– you really were just best friends. Mutual harbored feelings aside, you acted like friends. Just good pals.

A semi-drunken kiss, months ago, changed all of that. You're still not sure about Steve; but you weren't really as inebriated as you had claimed to be that night.

Six months of intensely and unnecessarily dramatic pining later and you're staying the night at Steve's place more often than not. He's kissing you and touching you in ways previously off-limits. He's bringing you flowers and cooking you dinner and it's all so weird.

Because you still do all the same things you did when you weren't dating. He still drives you to and from work because you're too scared to get your license. He still makes you drench his popcorn in parmesan cheese before he'll eat it and he still tackles you to the floor when you play spoons with the rest of your friends.

But now you go home together afterward. You get ready for bed in the same bathroom and share each other's bodywash so you can always smell like the other when they're not around. You eat meals together and and climb under the same covers at night.

It's perfect.

It's everything you've spent the last five years doing and more.

And you think you might love him.

Tonight is another one of those perfectly strange moments. You're standing in nothing but his shirt and your underwear, rummaging around the clothes that live in his spare dresser drawer.

Steve's been in the bathroom for ten minutes. He insists on shaving at night before bed– instead of in the morning before leaving the house.

"It gives me the perfect amount of stubble when I wake up in the morning if I do it the night before!" He once explained to you when you'd questioned him about it.

"Baby, have you seen my aftershave?" He now yells from the sink of his ensuite.

Your heart kind of stops. He's never called you that before.

He's literally only ever called you your name. Or nickname adjacent variations of your name. Even after you started dating.

He says it now, in fact, after you don't answer him for a few moments.

"Hey, everything okay?" He asks when he sees your face.

"What did you just call me?" You ask, seemingly struggling to maintain eye contact. You're not totally sure why.

"...baby? Is that...not...?"

"Ew!" Admittedly not exactly the best exclamation to describe how Steve calling you that actually makes you feel, but you're coming up short for anything else.

"'Ew'? Seriously? What's 'ew' about me calling you 'baby'?" Steve questions, his voice rising in volume and pitch in that incredulous way.

"I didn't mean it like ew, I just meant it like. Ew."

"I don't– understand–?"

"It's just. I'm standing here in your room, in your clothes. And its all so domestic and kind of weird and I feel like I can't even talk straight and I think I'm probably in love with you–"

Except for the sound of you clapping your hand over mouth, the room falls completely silent. Steve stands, mouth slightly agape, and doesn't speak.

"You love me?" He asks simply.

"Well– I mean– I've always loved you." You clarify. "I just feel like I love you now... in a different way."

Steve nods slowly.

"We've been friends for years, but now you call me 'baby', apparently, and– and you hold my and kiss me and tell me that I'm pretty. It's all so new. And I love it, but it's odd sometimes. You know?"

"Yeah," he nods more confidently now, "Yeah, I get it."

"So, yes. Ew. But... a good ew," you grin stupidly, your eyes crinkling in the corner.

"Would you think it was 'ew' if I kissed you right now?" Steve asks, stepping closer with an equally dumb smirk on his lips.

"No..." you squirm.

"Good." He says, gently gripping your waist as he pulls you flush against him. Steve kisses you softly, his lips a ghost across your own.

He pulls back to look at you, then moves to your cheek. "Baby," he says against your plush skin before moving to the other cheek, "Baby,"

You laugh fondly, rolling your eyes as his smooching grows more frantic. A steady stream of 'baby's' leaving his mouth between every one he plants on your skin.

"Fuck," you tease, pushing him away, "that's so gross,"

"You love me," he reminds you, leaning into your space again to place open-mouthed kisses on your neck; beneath your ear.

Steve's hands begin to roam. From your shoulders to the small of your back, before brushing over your bottom. His palms find purchase in the apex where your thighs meet your ass.

His mouth finds yours once more, but this kiss is more urgent. With his hands supporting you, he lifts you up, urging your legs to wrap around his waist before carrying you to his modest full-size bed that's hardly big enough for both of you some nights.

You land with an oof and it makes Steve giggle where he planks above you, careful not to crush you with his weight.

The lightness of the moment is replaced by a hunger that overtakes Steve's honeyed eyes before he's ducking down to capture your mouth again. He makes soft noises against your lips that you swallow before they ever reach the air.

One of his knees nudges yours, separating your legs far enough for him to rest between them. "Is this okay?" He asks breathily.

'Yeah. Yeah, it's good,"

Steve settles his weight against your spread thighs, your pelvis' touching. It's a not necessarily a new sensation, but it's new in this context. He's half-hard on top of you. It sends your stomach churning with nervous desire.

He kisses you breathless for a while longer and it's familiar; what's not-so-familiar is the experimental thrust of his hips. You can feel that he's fully erect now, the pressure on your core is surprising and pleasurable all at once.

You gasp and Steve halts. His eyes are wide when he looks at you, "Sorry– was that okay?"

"No, yeah, that's– that's good," you're– embarrassingly– almost panting, "that's really good. Actually."

"Okay," he breathes– and does it again. Steve revels in your gasp; the way your back arches just slightly off of the bed and into him.

It all feels a little off-beat. You're still learning each other in this new way. You want to know what makes Steve tick. Steve wants to know what might make you do that pretty gasp again.

"Can I take these off?" He asks, hushed, as his fingers brush the skin under the waistband of your underwear.

You swallow thickly but nod.

"It's okay. If you don't want to." He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear and you know he means it.

"I do," you assure him, "I'm just... nervous,"

"You don't have to be," he smiles down at you, but it wavers. You can tell he's trying to put on a brave face– his 'macho Steve' persona, as you've affectionately branded it.

"Its okay, Steve," you giggle, "you can admit that you're nervous, too,"

"Me?" He scoffs, "Hawkins' Resident Womanizer Steve Harrington? Nervous to have sex with his– stupidly beautiful girlfriend? I doubt it."

You smack his chest and he laughs heartily, snatching your hand and bringing it to his lips.

"Maybe I'm a little nervous," he all but whispers into your knuckles.

"Awfully presumptuous of you to assume I'm having sex with you tonight," you tease.

"Oh, no?" His right hand snakes down your stomach, dipping below your underwear and cupping your heat.

"Oh–"

His voice dips, his mouth hovering just over your ear, "Does your pussy know that, baby? 'Cause you're already soaked."

Hearing Steve talk like this feels visceral. Its like wires being crossed inside your brain. Steve's always been a hit with the girls, but you've never been on the receiving end of the romancing. This Steve feels different than the one you grew up with; than the one you've spent so much time with– doing anything and everything together.

You thought when the time came that it might feel awkward, but now you're beginning to wonder why you haven't done this sooner.

Steve's fingers dip into the arousal pooling in the bottom of your underwear before traveling back to your clit with tantalizing circles.

"That feel good?" He asks. His voice sounds husky but you can tell that he's asking genuinely; still learning what you do and don't like.

"That's– yeah," you sigh, "that's perfect,"

His movements gain more confidence after that. He studies your face as he goes, cataloguing every miniscule reaction and adjusting where he needs to.

And it's so much, but still not enough. "Steve," you exhale, halting his rhythm with your hand on his wrist, "will you... would you go– down on me?" Your voice comes out small, like you're not sure how to ask for it.

Steve seems to take great pleasure in the request, his eyes taking on a mischievous glint, "Yeah? You want my mouth, honey?"

The new pet name makes you shiver, "Please."

"So polite," Steve praises, words muffled from where his mouth is pressed against the skin of your stomach as he trails his mouth lower lower lower– until he's exactly where you need him.

His tongue is hot and hesitant against you. He starts with barely there kitten licks before flattening his tongue entirely– moving with broad strokes from your entrance to your clit and making sure you're comfortable before incorporating his fingers again.

Your hand flies to his hair when he slides the first one inside of you, all the way to his last knuckle, "Fuck, Steve!"

The encouragement and the pull of your fingers threading through his hair elicits a ragged moan from his throat. You've never even imagined Steve making a sound like that. Another wave of arousal washes over you.

He works you over for what feels like hours and you're admittedly shocked to feel your pleasure cresting to a peak. You've never finished from a having sex with a partner before; you feel yourself beginning to tense.

"Steve– I'm close–" you whimper, head thrown back against his expensive down pillows that you know you're dampening with sweat.

"I know, baby, I can tell," he pauses, "it's okay– I've got you,"

His eyes never leave you as you come. He watches ever twitch of your abdomen– every squeeze of your hands twisted in the bedsheet. You can hear him murmuring praises the entire time– good girl, so good, baby, fuck–that's so hot– but it all sounds muffled. Like you're underwater.

You waste no time grabbing him by the jaw as we crawls his way back over your body and pulling him into a searing kiss. He tastes like a heady mix of your cunt and the spearmint toothpaste he was brushing his teeth with an hour ago.

Steve's tenting his boxers when you glance down between your bodies; just past him the sheets discolored with wet patches where he'd been rutting into the mattress.

Your legs hook behind his back and you pull him into you with a force that knocks the wind out of both of you. You're still sensitive from your orgasm.

"Do you want me to use a condom?" He groans as his clothed cock ruts against your bare folds. He can barely speak; feeling the warmth of you seep through the fabric.

"I'm on the pill," you tell him, "you could pull out just in case, but it's up to you,"

He ducks down to kiss you before responding. Steve kisses you like its as essential to him as air or water– a lifeforce that he needs or he'll simply cease to exist.

You take the opportunity to push his boxers off his hips and down his thighs as he licks into your mouth; his tongue tangling with yours.

Steve's cock is heavy and velvety soft in your hand as you pump him slowly. Your mouths part with a click as you bring your palm to his mouth. "Spit."

His previously heavy-lidded eyes grow wider, but he obliges. You bring your hand back down to stroke him again; this time with better lubrication.

"Holy shit–fuck, baby," he whines into your temple. His arms shake where he's still trying to hold himself up.

You feel yourself gaining confidence with every passing minute that the two of you are intimate, and it feels even better to take the reins back a little. You can't help but wonder what he would sound like– what he would look like– completely at your mercy. You decide to table the thought for another time.

"I need you," you whimper into his sweat-damp hair.

"I know, pretty girl," the thick head of his cock nudges your entrance, prompting you to take a deep breath in in preparation for his size.

"Hey– you'll tell me if you're uncomfortable or you want to stop, okay?" He waits for your nod, "Even if you just want to slow down, that's okay, too. I want you to make you feel good."

"I know," you smile up at him through your daze, softly petting the side of his face, "you do make me feel good,"

He kisses the side of your mouth– the gentlest his been with you all evening– as he pushes the rest of the way inside you. By the time he's at the hilt, you feel so full that it's hard to breathe. You can feel him everywhere.

Tears begin to prick the corners of you eyes once he starts to move; a slow rocking of your bodies into the mattress. You aren't sure the cause. Maybe it's how close you feel to him– maybe it's how he's perpetually grinding into your g-spot with every thrust.

"Fuck– I love you," he groans into the crook of your neck where it meets your shoulder. His teeth scrape the sensitive skin there like he might bite you, but he doesn't.

"I love you, baby–"

The shape of the endearment in your mouth awakens something nearly primal in Steve as he begins to fuck you that much faster. The headboard creaks where it repeatedly hits the wall behind you.

Strong biceps wrap around you, lifting you beneath the armpits as Steve hugs you in this horizontal position. You squeeze him back just as fiercly.

You feel your second climax approaching significantly quicker than the first had, but you need more. Pressing your fingers to Steve's mouth, he doesn't question your motive. He opens and closes around them obediently, slicking them for you.

He watches as you snake your hand in between your glistening bodies, "Yeah, there you go," his voice breathy and punctuated by his relentless thrusts, "touch yourself f'me, baby– good girl,"

It's almost too much. It's perfect. "Steve– I'm close–"

"Ah– me, too," he pants, forehead pressed firmly to yours, "come with me–"

Your entire body contracts as you finish and you're certain you've never came so hard in your life. Steve holds off until he's sure you're satisfied before pulling out just in time to spill all across your stomach with a long, low moan.

The last of his strength leaves him shortly thereafter; his trembling body collapsing against you.

Your combined skin is tacky and cool with sweat, but neither of you can bring yourselves to move.

The air in the room is thick with the scent of sex and the only sound comes from the crickets chirping through the open window and your shaking breaths. It feels like hours before Steve breaks the silence.

"You okay? Was that good for you?"

"'Good' would be the understatement of the century,"

"I can't believe we didn't do that sooner,"

"I was just thinking that earlier,"

The hushed conversation somehow feels just as intimate as the sex did.

"We can't fall asleep like this," you remind Steve, who very well may already be sleeping. You're getting Deja Vu from a conversation you once had with Nancy Wheeler.

"Why not?" He slurs. Okay, not sleeping then.

"Because I need to pee or else I'll get a UTI," you pause, thinking, "and your... jizz is all over my stomach."

"Don't call it 'jizz'," Steve admonishes.

It takes longer than you'd ever admit to get you both cleaned up, despite your constant reminders to Steve that– the faster you take care of the mess, the faster you can crawl back into bed.

Steve tells you he loves you approximately seven more times before he finally falls asleep.

[barnesonfilm]

13 minutes in heaven

★ summary: late night squawk duty has you restless & you haven’t had alone time with steve in weeks. with very little convincing you give him one song

★ pairing: steve harrington x reader

★ warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, fem reader, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, name calling, steve harrington has a disgusting mouth

★ word count: 2.5k

★ notes: so this was all i could think about while watching season 5 :) expect more of steve this next month

The ambient buzzing of electronics nearly lulled you to sleep as you spun around in the desk chair. Getting put on late-night Squawk duty wasn’t how you wanted to spend your Saturday night, but what else is there to do in a town under martial law, overrun by interdimensional creatures? 

“You zoning out over there, princess?” Steve’s voice pulled you out of your moping. Turning your head to see where he was leaning against the wall of tapes, nearly as bored out of his mind as you were. 

“No,” you lied, pretending to pay close attention to the vinyl spinning across from you, “Yes. What’s taking Murray so long?” 

Steve answered with a shrug, glancing around the booth the two of you were currently holed up in. “You’re just like Robin. So antsy.” 

“Well, Robin is currently having a fancy dinner with her girlfriend, while I'm stuck in a stuffy booth with my boyfriend waiting for a psychotic man to smuggle us in intel.” You huffed, body slumping in the chair. “We haven’t been on a date in ages.” 

Your boyfriend’s face softened, pushing himself off the shelf to stalk towards you. “Baby-“ 

“And I know it’s selfish of me to be saying that when the world is basically ending, but-ugh.” You cut yourself off with a groan, watching as he held his hand out for you to grab. You folded your hand in his, letting him spin you out of the chair, pulling your body taut to his. 

“It’s not selfish.” He swore, smiling as your hands wrapped around his neck. The gentle sound of Kim Carnes playing in the background. “Come on, dance with me. We can have our own date here.” 

You didn’t even have time to protest, Steve taking your body against his swaying messily to the music. 

“Okay, okay.” You giggled, doing your best to keep up with each time he tried to spin you in the tiny room. At one point, he kept you latched to his side, leaning over to push the volume control button up. A wide smirk on his face before he spun you around again. Both of your smiles were wide, lost in the joy that radiated off of each other. 

“She’s got Bette Davis eyes.” Steve sang off-key, pulling you back from a spin. His front pressed against your back, the two of you swaying along as the song ended. Both of you are out of breath, bodies wracked with giggles. A sweet reprieve of love, one that neither of you realized you needed. 

“I love you.” He whispered your name, his warm breath against your ear making your body shiver. His hands still gripping your jean-clad hips. 

“I love you. Missed this.” You whispered, feeling his lips trail down your ear, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the skin of your neck. This was something else the end of the world didn’t allocate time for; Steve and you rarely got a moment alone. You loved Robin, but if you weren’t so thankful, she and Vicki finally got together, so it meant you two had a night alone. 

His hands reached up your shirt, cupping your breasts through your bra roughly. You were so caught up in his hands, his lips sucking the skin of your neck, you didn’t even realize you were both still very much at the station. 

“Baby.” You whined, pushing pathetically against him. You didn’t want him to stop, but the two of you had to keep the music going. 

“Hmmm?” He hummed against your skin, one of his hands reaching down your stomach, cupping your clothed cunt. Your stomach turned with want, burning with desire. You repeated the pet name, warning him to stop.

“It’s just us in here. I’ll be fast.” He whispered, his hand popping open your jeans. Fingers pressing against the wet patch that had formed against your panties. He pushed his hips against your ass, his hardening cock pressing against you. You could feel your resolve crumbling with each gentle stroke of your clothed heat.

“You have to be fast.” 

“Fuck yes.” He sighed, speeding up the movement of his hands. You were ready to succumb to his ministrations before the silence of the music ending brought you back to reasonable thinking. 

“Wait, we can’t let the music go to dead air. They’ll panic.” You whimpered, trying to think as rationally as you could while Steve’s hands were all over you. The last thing you needed was the entire crawl squad busting in here while your pants were down, literally. 

“Fuck, fuck what’s the longest song we have?” He reluctantly took his hands off you, rushing to the crates in the back. All you could do was hum in thought, your mind running a thousand miles a minute while Steve threw around records, the bulge in his jeans prominent. If you weren’t so wound up, maybe you would’ve giggled at the sight. 

“Fuck uhh Iron Maiden three years ago? They had like a 10-minute song, right?” You offered up, his eyes shining. 

“God, baby, I’m gonna fuck the hell out of you.” He whistled, holding up the vinyl like a championship trophy. “13 minutes and 39 seconds to be exact.” 

Your cheeks flushed at his words, your underwear getting damper by the minute. “Do you think that’s enough time?” 

He scoffed, plopping himself down in the chair. “Look at you asking silly questions. Is 13 minutes enough time to make you come? I could do it in 5. Ridiculous.” He mumbled the last part under his breath, setting the vinyl up quickly. 

You rolled your eyes, still unbelieving that you agreed to this. He shushed you while the on-air light flickered on, the neon lights buzzing. 

“Alright, Hawkins,” Steve’s radio voice echoed through the microphone. “We are setting sail. This next one is on the longer side, but trust me. It’s gonna be worth every single second.” His eyes were on you, while you made a show of pulling the rough fabric of your pants down your hips. 

“Iron Maiden, Rime of the Ancient Mariner, hold on to your sea legs!” And he put the needle down, the on-air light flickering off. The guitar riffs bleeding through his headphones matched the thump of your heart. 

“Gotta make every second count.” You smiled, keeping your shirt on for the sake of emergencies. Steve wasted no time in pulling you to him, your lips meeting with a feverish passion. His tongue explored your mouth while his hands found your hips again. His fingers dancing along your waistline, dipping inside your panties. He swallowed your shocked gasps, his fingertips sinking into your soaked cunt at last. “Oh, baby. You really needed this.” 

All you could do was nod, your head feeling heavy as you leaned against him. He rubbed lazy circles around your clit before he slid two fingers inside you with little resistance. “S-steve.” You stuttered out, keeping an eye on the vinyl grooves. 

“Shhhhh. Don’t focus on that. Gotta get you ready.” He cooed, coaxing more beautiful moans from your lips. Stretching you out as much as he could, given the circumstances. His cock was aching in his jeans, his other hand abandoned your back, fumbling with his zipper. His jeans fell to his knees, his cock sitting large and pretty in his tighty whities you always teased him about. 

Your cunt was clenching around his fingers, desperately needing him. When his fingers pulled out tears almost sprang to your eyes, the emptiness made your head spin. “Turn round, baby.” His saccharine voice spoke. You listened, elbows finding the table, leaning against the control panel. His fingers hooked themselves in your underwear, pulling them to the floor. 

A strangled moan escaped his lips, “Fuck I wish I had time to taste you.” 

“Steve.” You were dripping for him, clenching around nothing while he pulled his cock out. He spat in his hand, rubbing the spit against your entrance. Not like you needed it, but the sensation had your eyes rolling into the back of your head regardless. 

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you. Good girl, just like that, take this cock.” The moment his cock slid in between your lips, you were a goner, your cunt sucking his tip in greedily. With every inch he pushed in, you suckled around him, the sound already obscene. 

When his hips met yours, he let out a pornographic moan. One that you’d keep in your memory for late nights alone. “So fucking tight. Basically squeezing me to death,” He breathed out, “I’m not going nowhere, baby.” He pulled his cock out halfway, admiring his length dripping in your wetness, before slamming back in. Keeping up a steady pace, hitting the deepest spots inside your cunt from this angle. 

“Feel so s’good. Fuck I needed this.” You whimpered out, the faint reflection of the two of you in the glass only spurring you on more. With one hand on your hip, the other cupped the back of your neck, just enough pressure to keep you still. One thing about Steve Harrington was that he knew how to fuck. He knew your body like the back of his hand, and he played it to his advantage every time. 

“I know you did. Letting me fuck you in here. Where anyone could walk in.” He growled, watching your ass ripple with each thrust. You clenched around him at his words, only making a deep laugh escape his chest. 

“Oh, you like that?” He mocked, your head nodding almost instantly. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t breathe. All you could feel was Steve’s cock splitting you apart. 

“Yeah, of course you do, my dirty little slut.” A harsh slap on your ass punctuated his words. This wasn’t making love; this was dirty. A primal fuck that the two of you needed so desperately. 

He wasn’t taking your moans for an answer, continuing as his dirty mind ran rampant with each squelch of your cunt around him. “Say it. Say it or I stop.” 

You could barely hold yourself up with your elbows, desperately trying to make sure you didn’t hit any buttons. “I’m your dirty little slut. Please don’t stop. Please.” 

Tears were pricking your eyes at how fast and deep his movements were, the sound of skin hitting skin drowning out the still-spinning Iron Maiden song in the background. “Not gonna stop. Not until you’re cumming around my cock.” 

A particularly deep thrust hit a spot that had your legs shaking, your body almost falling into the control board. Only stopped by Steve’s arm pulling you up to his chest, the position making him deeper inside you if that was even possible. 

“You don’t want all of Hawkins hearing you cum around me, do you?” He laughed, pressing sloppy kisses to your shoulder. “Or do you?” 

All you could do was nod mindlessly, your high approaching like a freight train. “I bet you’d love that, huh? Do you want me to turn the mic on? Let everyone hear how good I fuck you?” 

All you could do was wail, “Steve, Steve, I’m gonna cum.” 

“Yeah, you are.” He grunted, his hand reaching down to rub lazy circles on your swollen clit. “Should we let everyone hear how I make this pussy cream? How only I can make you feel this good?” 

That was all it took for you to fall pliant in his arms, your cunt spasming around him. Your vision went dark, legs shaking as the euphoria washed over every nerve in your body. 

When you came to Steve’s hips were stuttering, his own high approaching. He was whispering small praises into your ears, hands holding your body close to his. “That’s my girl. Did so well for me. Gonna make me come, huh? Love you.” 

“Want it so bad.” You sobbed, your nails digging into his forearms while he stilled, cock twitching, his release deep inside you. Steve’s head shoved deep into the crook of your neck, grunting your name over and over. 

The booth was hot, the air humid and sticky with sex. The vinyl crackling next to you two, the song almost over. 

“And you thought 13 minutes wasn’t enough.” Steve laughed, sweat dripping off his brow and onto your own slicked skin. The two of you were a mess. The booth's glass is foggy at the bottom. 

He pressed a soft kiss to your head before slipping his length out of you, hissing at the friction. His cum dribbled out of you, dripping down your inner thighs, making his over-sensitive cock twitch. “Stop ogling me and get me a towel.” You whined, snapping him out of his boyish haze. 

He rifled through your bag using a wet wipe to clean you up, pulling your underwear and pants up for you while you were on shaky legs. You left your pants unbuttoned, content to plop down in the chair. Watching as Steve fumbled around for his own pants. A record scratch brought you out of your own ogling, switching over to another song. Unbothered with an intro this time. 

“I’ll get us some water. Are you okay? I wasn’t too rough, was I?” Steve was still out of breath, leaning down to press soft kisses to your lips. You shook your head, a wicked grin on your lips.

“Not at all, baby. Though I didn’t know you were so into the idea of Hawkins hearing you split me open.” 

His cheeks flushed, opening the door to the booth. “Shut up. You loved it.” 

Your giggles wafted through the building as he walked into the kitchenette to retrieve cold water for the two of you. The moment Steve tossed the chilled bottle to you, you were chugging it down. 

“I love you, sweet girl.” He smiled, smoothing down your frizzy hair for you. “Maybe if we get a break from sudden death, I’ll take you to a nice dinner. How’s that?” 

Nodding, you leaned into his touch, kissing his hand. “Sounds like a plan, Harrington.” 

Your eyes were booting into his; there was no one else you’d rather face death with than him. These last few years have brought the two of you closer with every obstacle. 

“Yoo hoo!” A loud voice yelled, the front door of the station banging open with a thud. The two of you jumped up, both still disheveled. “I’ve been waiting outside for like five minutes.” Murray was standing there, eyes already narrowing in on you two. If it wasn’t your appearance, or the sheer smell alone, then your completely unbuttoned pants would have given light to what the two of you had been doing while he waited outside. 

Steve was about to speak, getting cut off by Murray’s pointed laugh. “Oh my god. You disgusting kids.” He spoke, nothing but humor in his words. “Meet me outside in a few, and I'll hand over everything. Wash your hands.” He pointed at Steve while you turned around to button your pants back up. Steve was red in the face, holding his hands out like they were poisoned. 

“He has a point.” You broke the awkward silence that had been hanging since the door closed. 

“Was worth it though,” Steve said with a shit eating grin.

[love-hs28]

well got damn

[firingstars]

anatomy study

clark kent (2025) x female reader

summary: you’ve known clark kent your entire life. you know him better than you know yourself, if you’re being honest. and you are way too comfortable with him.

warnings: 18+, mdni, smut (piv, unprotected sex, handjob(?) idk you’ll see, fingering, oral, praise, clark talks you through it, cum.. eating..?, finger licking/in mouth, cute n soft, BIG DICK!clark, size kink/difference, dacryphilia undertones, aftercare, clark gets exposed to a breeding kink, porn with little bit of plot), fluff, shy (at first) and soft!clark, teasing mainly from reader to annoy clark, lowk secondhand embarrassment, reader finally in her last year of university after taking a long fucking time to decide on what she wanted to do with her life, pet names (honey, sweetheart, baby), no use of y/n, NOT proofread // wc: 7k

yari yaps: i’m supposed to be writing my bwatober fic. but NOOOOO mr. kent has me in a chokehold and im a useless writer that can’t focus on deadlines (bwatober will be posted soon i promise i js cant work on it when this was on my mind) // divider credits

“So, I've been wondering— and you don’t have to answer— but is your dick different from humans?” 

You say the words without even looking up from your textbook and notebook. A pen continues to twirl between your fingers as you absentmindedly fidget. The choking noise that fills the air concerns you for half a second, forcing you to look over your shoulder and at the man who was quietly going through his articles on his laptop before you rudely interrupted him.

“You haven’t talked in hours,” he mutters, referring to how you crashed his apartment just to study. He removes his glasses off of his face– frames that he doesn’t even need to wear– to drag a hand down his face like it would wipe away the absurdity of your question. “And this is what you say?”

“My anatomy class finally moved on to sex,” you say, as if that was supposed to explain anything. 

“… Right.” Clark looks exhausted. He probably wishes he never opened his front door to you, but here you were. Well, even if he didn’t, you could always use the spare key that he gave you ages ago. “You know, I think I like you better when you’re not talking.”

You roll your eyes at his sass, “C’mon. You know why I'm asking this.”

Of course he does. You were the first person to know of his abilities— right after his Ma and Pa. You'd been there to watch him soar into the sky for the first time, finally unafraid. You watched him discover ice breath, and remembered how distraught he was as he looked at you. 

Clark sighs, chest rising and falling dramatically with the breath. “My… reproductive organs are similar, from what I can tell.”

“From what you can tell,” you repeat, raising an eyebrow. 

“I didn’t exactly grow up with Kryptonian anatomy lessons,” he shoots back immediately. “I haven’t seen a spliced Kryptonian in a museum— a body donated for science and research.”

You pause, then shrug slightly. “I guess.”

He huffs. Actually huffs, like he’s throwing a mini tantrum over your lack of thought to your question. Despite it, he still settles back onto the couch. His muscles no longer feel locked in place, he can breathe normally—

“So you don’t have an alien dick?” 

“Sweet lord— what are you going on about?” he whines, looking at you with pleading eyes. You ignore it in favor of expanding your knowledge on his biology. 

“You know,” you say, waving a hand in the air, “Some of the rifts— there’s documents on the corpses that come through. talking about how some male presenting aliens have both uterus and testicles, like they can impregnate and be pregnant, too—“

“I don’t have a womb,” he says, followed by your name falling from his lips in exasperation. 

“But are you sure?” 

“You know those released documents also included strong evidence that those aliens also had a menstrual cycle,” he quickly says. Clark moves his laptop off of his thighs, and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. He’s one second away from burying his face into his hands. “I haven’t— I think I would know if I was bleeding from my pen… from my thing.”

Clark's ears are red. Bright red. He can’t even hide it. 

Suddenly, your questions are no longer out of simple curiosity. Now, you want to poke the bear. Except the bear is too sweet and kind to tell you to knock it off, to get out of his apartment, and to leave him the hell alone.

“Your thing?” you tease, a smile spreading across your face. “Your cock, Clark.”

“Do you have to be so vulgar?”

“It’s basic anatomy.” You cross your arms over your chest. “One that you claim to have.”

“I don’t—!” He runs his hands through his hair, clearly stressed. You can’t help but giggle at the sight. “I don’t claim to have regular anatomy, whatever that means.”

“So you admit that your body is biologically built differently.”

“I mean, yes, but not like that!” 

“Like what?” 

“Please,” he groans, nearly desperate now. 

“Ooh, begging,” you say as your grin spreads even wider. “Are you trying to keep Kryptonian biology a secret?”

It doesn’t take much for him to break. You knew that. Always have, and always will. Clark was scarily easy to bait. 

“My dick is normal!” he finally shouts, face still flushed. You swear he’s sweating, too. 

“But how do you know that?” you ask. You’re not even trying to hide the lilt in your voice. “You compare lengths in the locker room in school?”

“Oh my— stop. please.”

“So guys don't do that? That’s just a myth said online?” 

“You’re not totally off,” he quickly says, only to pause a moment later. “Can we talk about something else? Anything else?”

You pout at him, giving him your best pleading eyes you could muster. For someone made of steel and ice, this man melted at the sight of you. He always did. 

A deep sigh escapes his chest as he leans back into the couch. “My college ex said my… penis… was above average. I haven't seen other men’s… things, but i’m assuming since she didn’t have an issue with it then it has to be normal.”

Your eyebrows raise. “Do you not watch porn?”

Your name falls from his lips in utter shock, matching the look on face. “You do?”

“You don’t?” 

Clark stares at you, as if he’d been slapped with a bucket of freezing water. You can only stare back, waiting for his response. 

“… No,” he finally mutters. 

“Huh,” you say, taking in the sight of him. Even seated, he’s large. If you stood in front of him right now, you’d barely be taller than him. “Well, it makes sense that you’d be above average. with your height and all. Do you think that is also Kryptonian?”

“I don't know.” Clark shrugs, and it seems like the embarrassment of the topic is slowly melting off of him. “Probably?”

You hum, contemplative. “So, your dick doesn’t have ridges on it? Like spiky nubs along the shaft? Do you think your sperm count is higher than the average human male? Must be stronger, too. I wonder if a normal human woman would be able to carry your children to term without complications.”

A frown takes over his face at your rapid fire questions and commentary. Though he doesn’t look as bothered as he was earlier. It's as if he’s really thinking about it this time. 

“I would really hope that whoever carries my children won’t have any complications, but that’s another thing that I wouldn't know until the time came.” Clark's pointer finger taps thoughtfully on his knee as he continues to think, “All of your questions have to do with research that hasn’t been conducted on me.”

“You didn’t answer my question about the appearance of your cock, Clark.”

This time, a pretty red takes over his face. “Why are you so intrigued?” 

“Just answer, or I'm gonna demand you to just show me so I can find out,” you groan. 

“If I do show you, would you stop asking?” 

It’s your turn to freeze in place, blinking at him. He's still the shade of a tomato, but he’s not cringing at his words. If anything, he seems determined. like this would really shut you up. 

“Take your pants off then,” you dare. 

Clark, ever so obedient and kind, moves. his hands reach for the button of his jeans, so certain and sure. 

Suddenly, you realize how close the two of you really are. 

You grew up together with neighboring farms in Smallville. The two of you used to sleep in the same bed as children when your parents dropped you off at Kent's for a sleepover. 

As a child, the two of you used to change right in front of each other. Even as a budding teenager, you didn’t feel the need to hide away from him, though he was always a respectful kid and began to turn his head away on his own. 

Clark went off to college first to pursue journalism. It didn't stop your contact with each other, even when he went off to Metropolis first. You simply told him you’d follow him soon. And you did. 

You had your own place in the city, no longer dorming as it was your last year in university. Still, you spent more time in Clark's apartment than on your own. You had a key to his place, welcoming yourself and making yourself at home even when he was at work on the Daily Planet— especially when he was at work as superman. 

You’d fussed over wounds you knew would heal at the sight of first light, and he would let you take care of him. Clark knew it calmed you down. 

Clark always let you do what you wanted, and would always do as you asked. 

And now, he was unzipping his pants. 

“Wait,” you say quickly, as his thumbs hooked under the waistband of his briefs. “Are you okay with this?”

Clark's eyebrows pull together, eyes flickering up to you. “You’re the one who asked, and now you’re the one backing out?”

“I just… I don't want to make you uncomfortable if you don’t actually wanna…” you murmur slowly. 

“It’s you.” His words are said like it’s normal— like being you was a good enough reason to do anything. In this case— take his pants off. “I don't mind.”

You swallow, a weird rush of sentimental feelings going through you. Then, you nod, steeling yourself. “Show me your weird alien cock.”

“It's not weird,” he grumbles, “You’re lucky I love you.” A moment later, he’s lifting his hips off the couch slightly as he pushes both underwear and pants down his thighs. 

Your jaw drops, and you suddenly can’t breathe. 

The sight before you— he was right. His cock isn’t weird. If anything, it’s the prettiest dick you’d ever seen. 

Maybe it was the mix of him being carefully groomed as well and the fact the man before you was already pretty everywhere else, but you don’t think you’d ever seen a dick as nice as his. 

Clark's soft, but he’s still big. His skin is smooth, resting against his pelvis, dormant and asleep. You wondered if he was a grower— if he got bigger than the estimated seven inches you were staring at. 

Even his balls were fucking nice to look at. The seam of it— oh my God. You were going insane. 

“So?” he questions, breaking the silence and your thoughts. He sounds nervous, “What’s the verdict?”

You lick your lips, taking a deep breath. “You're actually really beautiful, Clark."

He stares at you, and you’re certain it was the last thing he expected you to say. So, you clear your throat. 

“I mean,” you start, “I've seen a good amount of cock. Yours is, by far, the best.”

Clark blinks at you, still digesting your words. “… Thanks. I guess.”

“Is it as soft as it looks?” you ask, finally getting a grasp of yourself again. “It looks soft. Like— your skin.”

He pauses for a moment, looking down at himself. Then, he reaches. 

You lied. You don’t have a grasp of yourself. Your sanity is gone, thrown out the window at the sight you were witnessing. 

Clark, sitting there on the couch, pants pulled down, with his hand wrapped around his cock. He's still flaccid, but he’s running his hand along his dick, trying to get the best answer for your question. 

“Just feels like… the rest of me,” he murmurs, frowning as he concentrates. “Nothing really different. You wanna feel?”

You’re a dead woman. 

You brought up this topic. At first, it was genuine curiosity. Upon seeing his reactions, you moved onto some lighthearted teasing. It wasn’t supposed to progress to whatever was happening now. In the back of your mind, you’re wondering if he’s doing all of this now just to mess with you like you did with him. 

The curious look on his face tells you he’s not even thinking about it. 

You should tell him it’s a bad idea. That there’s boundaries in friendships, and even though you’re so comfortable with him, maybe there’s things you shouldn’t be doing.

But your feet are moving, and you’re standing in front of him within a few steps. 

“You sure?” you ask, hoping your voice comes out steady. 

Clark releases himself, then nods. 

You’re leaning forward before you have the chance to allow more rational thoughts to invade your mind. It’s as if your hand wasn’t connected to the rest of your brain, moving before you could even stop yourself– and holy shit your hand is small compared to him. He's warm to the touch, skin smoother than you originally thought. 

His cock jumps in your hand, and Clark flinches. The gravity of the situation just dawned upon him, and blood was rushing throughout him, coloring his cheeks and hardening his dick. 

“Wait,” he whispers, breath catching in his throat. “I’m sorry— I didn’t— I'm not meaning to—“

“You really are pretty, Clark,” you cut him off, a little mesmerized. 

You can feel his eyes on your face, but you’re not looking back at him. You still can’t tear your eyes off the annoyingly pretty sight of his cock. Then again, you should’ve expected it. The rest of him was just as gorgeous.

There's a vein popping on the underside of the shaft, thick and pulsing against your palm. His skin is still smooth despite losing the soft feel of it. And you were shocked— he was a grower. Both length and girth filled out with the rush of blood, and your mind wandered. 

His ex was fucking wrong. This man wasn’t above average. He was far from it— this was off the scale. He was Godly. 

“I don’t think you’d be able to fit.”

The words slipped out of your mouth softly, mainly spoken to yourself more than him. 

Clark's breath hitches. “What are you…”

“Just, theoretically, if we had sex, I don't think you’d fit in with me. You'd probably rip me apart— my hand barely can hold all of you when you’re soft, let alone hard. I don't know if it would even feel good to have you inside of me.”

“Oh my… You really can’t be saying these kinds of things while you’re still holding me,” he groans, head dropping back against the cushions as he shut his eyes. 

“I’m not wrong,” you argue. “Logistically speaking, there’s no way this would feel pleasurable for me– you’d tear me in half before I even get to cum.”

He lifts his head, and you look up at him. He's still flushed, but now he looks offended. “If we had sex, I wouldn't just stick it in you. I know it’s bigger than average so I'd make sure you’re prepared first. I'd need to fit at least three fingers in you— comfortably— before either of us could imagine me inside you. Besides that, who says I wouldn’t make you cum at least twice before I even want my dick in you?”

You can’t help the warmth you feel in your nether regions— like a sudden zap that went between your legs to make you feel weak at the knees. 

Clark notices. He always does.

He swallows, visibly nervous as a whisper comes from his lips. “Did I make it weird?” 

You’re surprised you can even suck in a breath. You shouldn’t be able to breathe. Your autonomic nervous system should be failing, but here you are. 

“Only weird if you think it’s weird, Kent,” you murmur. 

“You smell different.”

Fuck him, and fuck those super senses of his. You should’ve known better— he could easily spot every single twitch in your body, the change of scent as pheromones exit your body, and the feel of the light tremble of your hand against him. 

But despite all of that, a smile comes to your lips.

“Now you’re making it weird,” you tease. 

A devastating grin spreads Clark Kent's face. “My apologies. Thought we passed weird when you didn’t take your hand off me,” he hums. 

“You want me to?” 

The smile falters, and his eyes meet yours. He's reading you. Your face. reactions. Anything he can use to figure out what’s going through your head. You're doing the exact same thing to him. 

Finally, he speaks. 

“No. Want you closer, actually.” 

You don’t fight him when his hands reach for you, landing on your hips. You don’t fight him as he guides you towards him, your knees resting naturally on either side of his thighs. 

You’ve released him now, but only in favor of your hands sliding up his chest before finding home on the broad expanse of his shoulders. He's looking up at you, blue eyes swimming with an emotion you see every day— love.

Only now you’re realizing that the simple love you!’s that you’ve been throwing at him meant something else entirely for him. 

“There you are,” he murmurs, thumbs rubbing circles into your hipbones. “You only notice me when my dick is out and between us?”

“Thought you didn’t like that word,” you say, a little breathless. 

Clark smiles a bit wider, eyes sparkling. “I don’t mind it every once in a while.”

A laugh falls from your lips as you stare down at him, taking in every ounce of affection he was oozing out at you. You want to say something to acknowledge his feelings, but not yet. Not when you’re currently hovering over him, his cock still out and slowly, but surely getting more firm as the seconds pass. 

“You gonna show me how you’ll fit?” is what you say instead. 

You’re in his bedroom within a blink of your eyes— comfortably beneath him as he hovers over you. 

“Sorry. ‘m a little excited,” Clark confesses, breathless as if moving at the speed of light was difficult for him— of course not. It's you. You're the entire reason his heart rate picked up, that his hands were slowly turning clammy, and why he feels like he can’t breathe. 

“I can see that. feel it, too,” you grin at him, and a groan pulls from his lips as he shuts his eyes. Still, he doesn’t move away. If anything, he presses closer, slotting himself perfectly between your legs, dick pressed right against your aching core. 

“You're lucky I love you,” he sighs. 

Clark descends on you, lips meeting yours in what you can only explain as home. He’s warm, always is, but never in a suffocating way. He’s like the first warmth of spring after a long winter. 

“Take this off,” he murmurs against your lips, but is already moving to remove your shirt for you.

His hands slide under the fabric leaving goosebumps in his wake, and breaks the kiss for just a moment to pull it completely up and over your head. It’s discarded without another thought, tossed somewhere to the side. 

He cups both breasts through your bra, lips trailing from the corner of your lips, down to your jaw, and finding their place on your neck. 

“Gosh,” Clark sighs against you, peppering tickling kisses down to your collarbone, “I’ve dreamt about this moment before.”

“Do I live up to your expectations?” you ask, breathless. You arch, pushing your chest further into his palms. 

He groans, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say this entire situation causes him pain. Except you do know better, and he’s in heaven. 

“Better,” is all he says before his kisses move even lower. 

You’re certain he used his x-ray vision to locate your nipples over the thin padding on your chest. There’s no other way, you think, that he managed to be so precise. In the back of your mind, you wonder if he’s ever used this ability to feed some of his darkest desires. 

No, you decide. Your sweet, kind Clark wasn’t like that. Though you really wouldn’t have minded it. 

A soft moan slips out of you, cautious and shy. His response? To smile against your chest, and reach beneath you, undoing the clasp of your bra with a single manipulation of his fingers. 

“You practice that a lot in college?” you whisper as he tugs the fabric off your chest. 

“Mm… Not lots of practice, but enough,” he hums, eyes taking in the sight of you. He looks in awe, unable to believe this was truly happening to him. Soft hands run down your sides, just needing to feel you.  “So pretty, sweetheart.”

Your heart flutters in your chest, and you can feel your skin warming. Just one compliment, one silly little nickname, and you’re melting for him. Maybe he’s got you wrapped around his finger more than you realized it. 

“Want this gone,” you tell him, tugging on the hem of his t-shirt in attempts to gain some form of control over the situation. 

Clark chuckles, and gives you a small nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

He doesn’t give you any time to appreciate the beauty of him— the sculpted muscles that lay beneath the slightly baggy clothes he wears in hopes it hides his superhuman physique. Usually, he keeps his shoulders pulled in, a slight slouch to his posture, but in this moment he’d never looked larger. Confident. Yours. 

Your sweatpants and panties were being removed from you, joining whatever corner your shirt was thrown into. 

Without hesitation, Clark fit himself right between your legs. His hands wrapped around your knees, moving you to hook over his shoulders comfortably. Of course, not without him pressing a sweet kiss to the inside of your thigh. 

“You smell so good,” he whispers against your skin, lips trailing higher and higher up your leg until he was hovering right above where you needed him most. “Goodness… Already dripping for me and I haven’t even done anything.”

“You gonna hurry up and do something, Clark?” you ask, impatience pulling from you without realizing it. 

“Easy there.” His eyes lock onto yours from below, a sparkle on them. “Gotta make sure you’re ready for me, baby.”

Before more whines of complaints can form in your head, his flattened tongue licks a slow strip between your folds, parting them and giving him perfect access to your aching clit. 

A moan vibrates through your core, unabashed and utterly delighted. 

“Tastes so good, too. Could stay here all day,” he mutters against you, breathing hot and heavy. 

“Clark—“

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” he huffs. “One day.” 

Clark didn’t verbalize the rest of his disappointment. Honestly, with the way he thoroughly laps at your core, you might have to reconsider your decision. 

It’s as if he had been dying of thirst for his entire life. He dips his tongue in and out of your core, groaning in absolute joy, before moving to suck on the sensitive little nub that’s begging for his attention. You can’t help it when your legs start trembling around his head, threatening to close and trap him there. In the back of your mind, you realized that he wouldn’t care if you did. He’s able to hold his breath for over an hour, after all.

The sensations are all too much for you to handle, sparks flying behind your eyes as Clark seems to struggle to pull himself away from you. Eventually, he gives in. Tonight mercy is granted to you as you stop tugging on his hair to begin pushing him away instead. From the way his eyes are blown out, nearly every part of his eyes covered with black instead of blue, you know that you’ll find yourself back in this position another day.

But not right now.

Right now, you need him– all of him–

“Slow down,” he mutters to you as you yank him up your body. Clark rests beside you now, free hand helping him prop his head up to give himself a good view of your entire body. “Haven’t even started to stretch you out.”

You whine, heart still pounding from being brought to heaven and pulled back down to Earth. “Clark, you need to hurry up.”

“We have all the time in the world,” he coos at you in an attempt to try and soothe you. It doesn’t work. What does work is his fingers gliding up your thighs, reaching the warmth between your legs, and pushing in.

You always knew Clark’s hands were big. It matched the rest of him– long, slender fingers that seemed like they could whole the entire world with ease. If you verbalized any of this to him, he would tell you that he was doing exactly that– holding his world safely in his hands.

The introduction of a second finger has you squirming beneath him.

“You’re so soft,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead– a stark contrast from the filthy way his fingers were spreading you open with a scissoring motion. “So wet for me, aren’t you? Gosh… Can you hear yourself?”

Of course you can. The squelching noise coming from your lower half was hard to ignore, after all. 

You coated his fingers in your essence, and Clark was certain you were seeping into his skin, marking him as yours. You wouldn’t be able to smell yourself on him, but he would still be able to smell you on his skin for days to come. 

His digits curled slowly within you, rubbing against that extra soft, spongy part inside of you. His eyebrows shot up in amusement as you gasped out his name, hips lifting slightly off the bed. 

“Right here, honey?” The low baritone, gravely whisper of his voice in your ear sent shivers down your spine. He was invading your every being, just as you’d done to him for years on end. 

The stretch of his ring finger made the air in your throat catch. 

“Easy,” he orders, clicking his tongue softly in disapproval. 

“It’s— fuck, that’s… A lot,” you manage to stutter out, eyes screwing shut. 

“If you think this is a lot, how can you ever imagine taking me?” he asks, almost teasingly. 

A shaky breath exits your lips. “You’re— you’re enjoying this.” 

“And you’re not?” Clark shoots right back at you before plunging all of three digits into your fluttering hole— right down to his knuckles. 

Your best friend doesn’t wait for your answer. Instead, he begins to work into you, the length of his fingers slowly massaging in and out of you. You twitch beneath him, mouth falling open in a wordless moan. 

Try as he might, his actions were only making you clamp down tighter around him. You were trying to suck him in, keep him deeper within you. 

With one more slight curl, you were coming undone. Your fingernails digs crescent marks into his wrist, trembling as you attempt to keep your sanity intact. 

Slowly, his fingers exit you. 

“Mm… I don’t think you can take me tonight,” he mutters, more to himself than you. You nearly missed his words, all of your body paying attention to the way his fingers moved upwards to lazily circle at your clit. He presses a kiss to your temple, “Next time, hm?”

Your heart nearly stops in your chest as you look up at him, wide eyed and pleading. 

“What?” you ask, voice hoarse and dry from the moans you gave him. “Clark— No, need you—“

“I’ll just hurt you if we do it today.” He shakes his head. “Need to spend more time. One night of prep isn’t enough—“

“What if I want it to hurt?” you cut him off, head spinning. Clark looks at you, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “Just need you in me— need you to stuff me full. Need it so bad, Clarkie.”

He’s not convinced yet. You know it for a fact. He’s still thinking too rationally for your liking. But he’s pulled his hand away from your legs, resting it on top of your stomach instead— if he was truly unaffected by your words, he would’ve continued his ministrations. No, he was trying to keep his control by limiting his touch. 

You couldn’t have that.

Your hand finds his cock again, eyes still locked with his. His lips part to suck in a tight breath of air as you slowly palm at him. You run your hand up and down his length slowly, then reach the tip. To your delight, he’s leaking. 

“Look, baby. He’s crying for me,” you whisper to him, swiping your finger across the head of his dick, picking up a bead of precum in the process. 

For the first time that night, Clark’s gaze breaks away from your eyes. His eyes drop down to your lips, watching as your fingers enter your mouth to lick off his arousal. His breathing picks up, ever so slightly. 

You release your fingers with a pop, then move to rest them on his lips. He opens his mouth without any instruction or order, tongue wrapping around your fingers and licking, sending a new wave of excitement crashing through your body. 

“So big, so hard for me,” you sigh, almost pouting at him, “And you’re not gonna fill me up?” 

Clark moans around your fingers like it pains him, like he’s trying his best to hold onto the restraint that you’re chipping away from him. 

“You know I’m on birth control,” you tell him, pulling your fingers from his lips. He moves forward slightly, as if trying to chase them. Once again, his eyes meet yours. “You wanna indulge me in some more research? This one would be an experiment, really.”

He swallows. “What kind of experiment?” His voice is broken.

You smile sweetly at him, resting your hand against his chest. You can feel his heart beating rapidly under your touch. He’s waiting, on the edge of whatever sanity he has left. 

Finally, you whisper, “I want to see if Kal-El’s sperm can beat the efficacy of my daily pill.”

Within a breath, Clark pulls you to the cusp of his bed. Your legs only dangle off the edge of the bed for a few seconds before he pulls you to rest them against his hips. He shadows you, cock resting on your tummy as he leans over and presses a hard kiss to your lips. His teeth catch and tug, demanding entrance that you happily give him. 

His hands rest on the inside of your thighs, spreading you open for him as he pulls back his hips slightly. The length of his cock drags against your skin, leaving a trail of burning desire and want. He coats himself in your slick, depositing a moan into your throat as he does. 

The tip of his cock is right at your entrance, parting your puffy folds, and stops. You’re about to whine against his mouth, grab at his shoulders or wrap your legs around him, but he doesn’t leave you waiting for long.

Clark Kent is a fucking liar.

Three fingers and two orgasms was not enough to prepare you, prepare anyone, if you were being honest. Even with the fact you were quite literally dripping for him, it still wasn’t enough to ensure a smooth entry. Then again, he did warn you. This was partly your fault for egging him on until he couldn’t stop himself anymore.

Your lips still against his, eyebrows stitched together as you try to adjust to the foreign body entering you. Clark notices– of course he does– the way your muscles lock beneath him. Your lungs stop pulling in air, and you’re gripping his forearms so hard he actually registers a small nip of pain.

His voice cuts through the cloud in your mind. “Breathe, honey.” Clark showers you with kisses– your nose, cheeks, eyes, neck– anywhere he could reach. “I know it’s big, baby, I’m so sorry.”

With his words snapping you out of it, you suck in a greedy gulp of air as you open your eyes to look at him. “F… Fuck, Clark,” you gasp out.

“I know, I know,” he reiterates to you, patient and so understanding despite the fact you were the one that begged him for this. “Try to relax for me, okay?” Another kiss gets pressed to your eyes, his lips catching a stray, salty tear that slipped out. Your heart skips as you watch him swipe his tongue across his bottom lip, tasting your tears. 

“You’re so big– God,” you say, voice cracking. 

“Not God,” he corrects with a chuckle, “But yes.”

“Fuck you,” you whine, unsure how he can find this situation funny. Still, the way he lets out another small laugh above you does ease your body just a little bit– probably from the familiarity. 

You focus on Clark, deciding that he will be the best way to distract yourself from his cock, as ironic as it may sound.

The way there’s a slight crinkle around his eyes as he smiles at you. If you focus, you can see yourself in the reflection of his eyes. There you lay beneath him, skin flushed with a light layer of sweat all over you, hair touselled and mussed up, yet he still holds a love for you that you don’t think you’re worthy of carrying.

His skin is warm under your touch, always is, but goosebumps are left behind wherever you touch. His body is reacting to you, showing you that the littlest things you do leaves a mark on him both physically, emotionally, and mentally. 

How he touches you with extreme care, though you know it’s easy for him to break even the toughest of metals in his hand without even breaking a sweat. He’s always treated you delicately. Always a gentleman, opening every single door without complaint or annoyance, pulling out your chair whenever you have a meal together, and holding your hair back whenever you end up drinking a little too much. So kind, thoughtful, and nice. You wonder how much you’d have to push him to fully break you.

It’s only when your mind trails back into its sinful desires do you register his hips fully flushed against yours, his length sheathed within you. 

Clark’s pulling in shaky breaths, hands resting on your hips with his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. His forehead rests against yours as he closes his eyes, trying to get a grasp on his bearings once more. 

“I… Sweetheart,” he grunts. “You’re still so tight around me.”

As if his words were to be a reminder of your situation, your walls flutter around him, sending pleasure through both of your bodies. 

“Move,” you tell him, breathy. “Please–”

“Hang on,” he cuts you off, shaking his head. “I’m not paused right now for you. I might–” Clark cuts himself off, biting the inside of his cheek. For a moment, you thought he might curse aloud for the first time in years. Instead, he swallows thickly. “I might lose it right away if I don’t give myself a break right now.”

Pride swells in your chest. “Superman is a minuteman?” you tease softly. 

“Hey–”

A shared moan stops whatever rant he was about to go on, thanks to your hips rolling against his. And you can feel it, how his dick twitches deep inside of you, already so close to the edge even though he just got there. You can also feel him pressing up right against your cervix. 

His fingers dig into your hipbone– not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to warn. Clark pulls back, looming over you as he takes in a deep breath.

“You’re playing dirty,” he accuses, voice as tight as how he holds his jaw.

“So what if you cum fast?” you grin at him, hands moving to rest on his abdomen. “Don’t tell me Superman can’t go a couple rounds.”

His eye twitches, and you know you’ve hit him somewhere personal. Then again, baiting Clark Kent was always your favorite pastime. 

“Of course I can,” Clark says with a tone you know all too well– one that lets you know he’s about to prove you wrong.

His hips pull back, cock dragging out of you so painfully slow until just the tip of him is left within you. You mistakenly believe that he’s going to slam back into you without any warning. He doesn’t.

Clark pushes back inside of you slowly, giving you the chance to properly feel the ridge of his tip as it meets the shaft of his dick. You can feel a pulsing vein on the underside, matching the rapid beat of his heart. You can feel him separating your gummy walls with each new inch of him, forcing you to accommodate his size. And you can feel the bulge in your lower abdomen– him– deep inside of you.

“Shit,” you gasp out, but you don’t have time for anymore words. He’s pulling out once again before thrusting back into you, setting an easy, comfortable pace. Despite it, you can’t even begin to form any thoughts. He’s splitting you apart, filling you in ways that you’ve never felt before. 

“That’s it,” Clark chuckles from above you. You catch a lazy, nearly fucked out smile paint his face as he watches you. “You know, I think I like you better when you’re not talking.”

You whimper in response, unable to properly respond to him.

He hums, leaning back down to kiss you, his movements never stopping. “I got you, baby. Don’t worry– You’re so pretty like this.”

Clark swallows all your moans and whines like he’s desperate to have them. All you can feel is him– his hands running up and down your body to map you, the feel of his cock piercing in and out of you, his tongue brushing against yours, his muscles rippling and flexing whenever your hands find somewhere new to hold onto. 

“You look so good like this. So perfect, so beautiful— gosh, you look so pretty with me inside you,” he murmurs against your lips, voice strained ever so slightly. He moans out your name when your walls flutter around him again, giving him one brief warning. His hips snap harder into yours, efforts renewed as he urges you to your doom. “C’mon, baby. Give it to me– need you to make a mess all over me.”

As one final push, Clark presses a hand onto your stomach, snapping the last bit of pressure within you. “God– Clark!” you cry out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you begin to tremble beneath him. 

All the while, he never lets up. If anything, the pace is faster, chasing your high with everything he has– prolonging your pleasure for as long as possible. 

One more time, your name falls from his lips, this time strangled and needy before you feel a warmth deep inside of you. He’s coated you from the inside, both of your sticky juices mixing together into one substance as he lodges his cock deep inside of you, poking at your cervix.

Clark collapses over you, careful to keep most of his weight on his forearms. Still, his chest is pressed against yours, allowing you to feel the thumping beneath his skin. 

He collects himself faster than you, lips trailing all over your neck and collarbones as his cock jumps within you, hard once more. When you look at him with disbelief, he gives you a stupid grin that you nearly melt for. 

“What’s with that look?” he asks, nipping at your lips. “You only have yourself to blame for this.”

“I didn’t do anything just now.” You frown at him, though not entirely upset. 

“No,” he agreed, “But you did challenge me to put a baby in you. I’m feeling competitive tonight.”

You almost wish you never said those words out loud, never teased or poked him until he broke. Almost. 

Warm water sloshes around you as Clark lowers himself into the bath behind you. He instantly engulfs you with his size, his body granting you more heat than the tub you both sit in together. You lean back against his chest, closing your eyes. 

Exhaustion ran deep in your bones. You don’t fight against Clark as he begins to scrub your skin with soap, cleaning off the sweat and stickiness that accumulated during your time together. Still, you know he can’t get rid of the markings he left behind. 

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror when Clark carried you into his bathroom earlier. Purple, manmade flowers had grown across your skin, effectively ensuring you’d be wearing high neck clothing on days you didn’t feel like doing your makeup. 

You should be mad. You should scold him for losing control, but frankly… you don’t really care, especially not when he lowers his head slightly to press a delicate kiss to your shoulder. 

“How do you feel?” he murmurs against your skin. 

“Good,” you sigh, content. “Might be sore tomorrow, thanks to someone.”

“You asked for it,” he reminds you, and you can feel him smile against your skin.

“Yeah, yeah,” you dismiss, but you’re smiling too. 

Tomorrow, you both will have a discussion. A long talk on where you both stand in each other's lives, and how to ensure your relationship with each other won’t end up in flames. But all of that is for your future self to deal with. 

Right now, you’ll revel in his touch, allow him to wrap his arms around you, and fall asleep to the sound of his breathing. 

clark kent taglist: @superbassbuck @flockoff-featherface @unificsation @54nboo @earthsmightiestbenders @umbreoni @iamthatonefangirl @winterdecember18 @houseofhyde @blowingbarnes @heldbybarnes @bckyslover ⤷ to be eligible for my taglist, you must have your age stated somewhere on your blog!

[lovebugism]

can I PLEASE request steve and shy!reader’s first time?? he practically begs her to make noise and when she does he’s just DEAD

ty for requesting!! — steve teaches you how to use your voice in the bedroom (new relationship, shy!reader, smut 18+)

“Is that the spot?”

You only vaguely hear Steve’s voice, low and honeyed in your ear, as his kiss-bitten lips trace over the shell of it. You’re suffocated beneath the weight of his golden body, and the pleasure he punches into you with relentless, measured thrusts. Steve keeps himself propped on his sinewy forearms on either side of your head, watching with attentive eyes as your pretty face screws with pleasure every time he fucks himself into you.

It’s hard for him to know exactly what you like when you aren’t really telling him anything. Your silence is not entirely expected — you’re always a quiet little thing, and now is no exception — but it’s hard for him to know if you feel good.

He’s grown too used to the wild types; the girls that scream and writhe and make sex an Oscar-worthy performance. He likes how quiet you are in your pleasure; how your pliable body reacts so loudly to his touches despite how shy you are.

He’s already found the spot that makes you keen. With one especially languid thrust — which had pierced the deepest parts of you and caged your sensitive clit beneath his coarse pubic hair — your wild head tipped back against the pillow, in time with your arching back and your clenching fists that reach blindly for the navy sheets below. The sudden stroke of pleasure, like lightning down your spine, makes you feel like a woman possessed.

Steve’s rosy mouth, slick with your honey and spit, curls into a crooked smile at the sight.

“Yeah?” he coos, half-breathless, when your velvet walls clench around him. “You like this, don’t you, honey?”

All he gets from you is a soft and airy moan, but it makes his stiff cock jerk in your quivering confines anyway.

“Then tell me.”

His words fall over you like summer rain. You don’t know if it’s a command or a plea — and he doesn’t, either, really — but he just wants to hear you.

Your mouth parts in a silent moan when his hips rock back and forward again, never quite pulling all the way out of you before fucking into you again, inch by agonizing inch. Your nails dig crescent shapes into his shoulder blades, and Steve revels in the distant burn.

“C’mon, sweet thing…” he pants above you. The breath of his words fans warm against your chin as his broad nose nudges against the side of yours. “Tell me… Tell me I’m making you feel good…”

A flicker of panic dashes across your fucked-out features at the simple command — you wouldn’t know what to tell him, how to tell him without sounding utterly un-sexy. But then his hips tilt back between your parted thighs, dragging his stiff cock out of you until your drooling pussy clenches around the bulbous tip, and then pushes slowly back into you again.

He forces you to feel all of it — every inch of his cock as he fills you once more. The thatch of hair above his happy trail that ruts mercilessly along your swollen clit, more so when your hips buck on their own accord. The scruff of his chest that brushes your sensitive nipples when you tighten your hold around his shoulders.

You couldn’t make out the words if you tried.

You cage your bottom lip between your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut tight, missing the look of worry that flashes across Steve’s scruffy face. His measured thrusts falter at your silence, lean hips stilling between your thighs.

“Does it… Does it not feel good?” he mumbles awkwardly into the quiet of his bedroom.

Your eyes fly open then, heavy-lidded and swimming with a leftover pleasure. You almost can’t believe he’s asking you that. Like you aren’t already so close to your orgasm, like you haven’t already drenched the sheets below you.

“Yeah… It— It feels good…” you tell him through panted breaths, quiet and hardly audible. Your eyes dart back and forth between his chocolate ones. Something short of agony twists at your pouting features. “Why— Why’d you stop?”

Steve grins all over again, though it wavers at the edges with a lingering worry.

“You got all quiet on me…” he murmurs, smoothing one wide hand over your cheek. The skin there is slightly sticky from a thin layer of sweat as he smooths rouge tendrils of hair from your temples with a softly calloused palm. His touch is as warm and firm as his heavy balls still pressed against your ass. “I wanted to make sure it was good for you, too…”

You shift slightly, caged beneath his golden body and the mattress below. You shrink into yourself instinctively, though there isn’t anywhere to go with you pressed so intently against him.

“Sorry…” you whisper.

Steve shakes his head. The chestnut tresses hanging over his forehead sway over his eyes, which go squishy around the edges when he smiles down at you with a melted chocolate gaze.

“You don’t have to apologize… I get it. It’s okay.”

He punctuates his reassurance with a kiss. His lips taste like spearmint, nicotine, and the sweet-salty tang of your cum when they press against yours. Your mouths slot together in a lingering, longing thing like they were meant to do it — like he was made to kiss you, like his only purpose was to kiss you.

Your lips smack when you pull away.

“Can you…” you hear yourself ask, then trail off a second later when you catch yourself.

“Can I what?” Steve hums knowingly. His lips curl into a lazy smile moments before he leans down to press them to your cheek. He doesn’t really kiss you there, but rather brushes the plush skin along your sweat-slick one. The breath of his words fans across your jaw and sends chill bumps pebbling across your bare body. “Use your words for me, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

My cock, he means. Or the world. Or the ocean. Whatever you could possibly ask for, he’d fight like hell to get.

Your breath catches when his wet mouth meets your pulse. You wonder if he can feel the thrumming of your rapid heartbeat there. “Can you keep going?” you plead in a breathless whisper.

Steve grits his teeth to fight back a moan when your words make his cock twitch inside you. The scruff of his chin scratches your shoulder when he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, baby, I can… I do that for you…”

The process starts all over again, the merciless rocking of his hips. He pulls out just enough to make you sigh at the empty feeling, then he fucks back into you until his balls slap the plush skin of your ass. Your back arches off the mattress as your nails dig into his golden shoulder. Your moan gets buried in your throat, in a hardly audible whimper.

“Let me hear it, baby,” Steve pleads through labored breaths as his fists ball into the pillows on either side of your head.

His lidded gaze, glassy with a layer of honey, flits across your fucked-out features — eyes squeezed shut, head tossed back, bottom lip caged between your teeth. The sight of you below him is heaven alone, especially compared to how demoniacal your cunt feels wrapped around him.

“Let me make you feel good. C’mon.”

You vaguely feel his right hand squeeze between your sweaty bodies as he continues his measured thrusts. His finger brushes over your stomach, and past the thatch of hair above your pussy, before finding purchase on your clit — already sensitive from your previous orgasm, which he had given to you with nothing but his mouth.

Your body reacts before your mind does. Your hips buck with a shock of electricity. Your thighs clench around his lean hips. Your mouth parts to exhale a broken whimper.

“Right there,” you hear yourself say. “Oh, my god— Right there.”

The praise makes Steve’s even thrusts falter for a moment. A groan rumbles in the depths of his throat. “Yeah… There you go,” the boy slurs. “You sound so pretty for me— Fuck. I knew you would…”

His words make you keen. “Steve…” you whimper when you feel your orgasm suddenly approaching, like a knot in the pit of your stomach that’s growing tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

He tries not to burst entirely at the way you say his name.

“What is it, honey?” he coos. “You close?”

“Yes…” you sigh.

“I know you are, baby— I can feel it,” he says through gritted teeth, as his own pleasure starts to build. “You’re getting so tight around me, baby, I can— shit. I can barely move—”

Your pussy clenches tighter around him, all but weeping for him now. Steve’s fingers on your swollen clit only add to the ache, which feels borderline overwhelming now. Your face screws in a pained sort of look as your thighs tremble on either side of his waist. You writh beneath his golden body, trying to both chase your orgasm and run from its intensity at the same time.

“Please, please, please…” you hear yourself begging, though for what, you couldn’t say. “Please, Steve…”

“I’m right here, baby,” the boy coos, words slurring from his own encroaching orgasm. He keeps one merciless hand on your clit, which swells beneath his fingers, while his other shifts to hold you. He keeps himself propped up with his elbow while his palm settles over the crown of your head. His fingers curl gently in your hair as he murmurs to you, “I’m right here. Take what you want. You know I’ll give it to you. You just gotta… holy shit— You just gotta fucking take it, baby—”

Something about his words sends you over the edge. The way he says them to you so softly, maybe, or the way they come out slightly strangled as he fights back his own pleasure.

“There you go…” Steve sighs when he feels you cumming around him, velvet walls clenching through the silk you leak for him. He watches through the haze of bliss clouding his vision as you finally succumb to your orgasm, twitching and writhing behind him through every wave of pleasure. “Take it, baby. Take it—”

His voice breaks. A pain sort of groan sounds deep in his throat as his own orgasm threatens to unravel him. He punches into you once, hard, and then buckles down over you. He suffocates you beneath his warm, heavenly body while his aching cock jerks within the pulsing walls of your pussy, spitting several ropes of warm cum deep inside of you.

“Fuck, baby,” he whimpers into your neck, where he hides his flushed face that screws in a pained look of overwhelming pleasure. “Fuck—”

He stills against you with one last, shallow thrust. The remaining tension floods from his body as he sinks heavily onto yours, with every intention of melting with you there. It’s the closest to heaven he’s ever felt — hell, probably the closest to heaven he’ll ever get — with his sweat-slick skin sticking so deliciously to yours.

“Stay…” he hears you whisper when he goes to pull out of you.

The soles of your feet press into the back of his scruffy thighs. Steve pulls just far enough to see your face, and finds you wearing a pleading, pitiful sort of look — brows scrunched, eyes wet, mouth pouted from his kisses.

“Don’t pull out,” you beg through heavy breaths. “Please. I… I wanna stay like this for a while…”

Steve’s pink lips spread into a lopsided grin. His eyes are made of melted chocolate as they dart between both of your glassy ones. Rogue tendrils of chestnut hair fall over his forehead as he nods. And when the words of a promise finally catch up to him, he grins, “Yeah. Whatever you want, baby…”

[love-hs28]

holy freaking smokes