lana

(she/her) 🐈‍⬛ Fike. 💌

[interlagosgrl]

pfv faz algum smut do blas 🙏🙏

— aviso: linguagem imprópria, sexo desprotegido, penetração vaginal, nipple worship, dry humping, size kink (?).

— word count: 3,1k.

— nota: depois de muitos pedidos, VEIO AÍ!! eu adorei escrever esse, bem old money patricinhos <3 espero que vocês gostem

férias de inverno sempre significava paz para você. você tinha uma pausa na rotina cansativa da faculdade e pulava num avião para qualquer lugar que os seus pais escolhessem. ano passado tinha sido o Caribe e naquele ano, Aspen.

seus pais adoravam esquiar. qualquer local com muita neve, um teleférico e uma montanha, os faziam felizes da vida. você, pelo contrário, odiava esquiar. até gostava de neve e de ficar pertinho da lareira, mas a sua coordenação era muito primitiva para que você ficasse sobre uma prancha.

então, quando eles chamaram uma outra família para esquiar junto, você não ficou surpresa. provavelmente os seus pais queriam uma companhia para o ambiente externo, já que você só ficava trancafiada no chalé. a família Polidori era sócia da empresa do seu pai. você conhecia o senhor Polidori de vista, nas poucas vezes que visitou o prédio da empresa seu pai. o que você não sabia é que ele tinha um filho muito gatinho.

você o conheceu assim que saltou do avião no aeroporto. Blas era alto, tinha cabelos cacheadinhos muito bem cuidados e o perfume que ele usava fazia você ficar tonta de tanta atração. o melhor de tudo é que ele sempre falava apenas o necessário. as piadas, os comentários, todos eram muito bem pensados antes de serem proferidos. ele era o oposto daqueles garotos insuportáveis que sempre falavam mais que a boca, na tentativa de se mostrarem inteligentes.

na primeira noite, seus pais e os pais de Blas decidiram levá-los até um restaurante na cidade. você bebeu diversas taças de vinho e foi muito bajulada pelo senhor Polidori, que a elogiava por cursar economia e ser a futura herdeira da família. lá pela quinta taça você pediu licença para ir ao banheiro, mas, na verdade, se escondeu no bar do restaurante e pediu uma vodka com sprite. Blas te achou minutos depois.

“fugindo?” a voz dele a pegou desprevenida. você deu umas tossidinhas, tentando recuperar o ar que tinha escapado dos seus pulmões por ser pega.

“eu? nunca. só parei pra beber um drink.” você deu de ombros.

“e quantos drinks você já bebeu desde o primeiro?” ele apoiou ambas as mãos no banquinho do seu lado. ele era tão alto que nem curvado você dava a altura dele.

"uns três..." você sorriu um pouco bobinha. Blas soltou uma risadinha de cumplicidade, sentando-se ao seu lado. ele pediu uma dose de uísque e você ergueu uma das sobrancelhas. você o via como um menino que beberia cerveja e tequila, mas ele tinha gostos mais refinados que aquilo.

"e você me deixou lá pra sofrer dobrado?" ele a olhou de lado, observando você enquanto o garçom colocava a dose dele e um refil do seu copo na bancada. um arrepiozinho correu pelo seu corpo, embora você estivesse num ambiente extremamente aquecido.

"bom, eu não sabia que você toparia fazer isso." você bateu suas botinhas da Miu Miu contra o balcão do bar. "você é tão contido."

"contido?" brincou, terminando todo o líquido âmbar do copo de uma só vez. "eu diria que eu só sou muito bom em esconder as coisas."

"e o que você está escondendo?" você bebericou a vodka com sprite, sentindo o gostinho forte descer pela garganta. conversar com Blas a deixava nervosa como nunca. geralmente, você era muito confiante. flertar era sua maior habilidade, você deixava qualquer pessoa caidinha por você. mulher ou homem. com ele, era diferente. era como se ele lesse você direitinho.

"o fato de que eu odeio neve. e odeio esquiar." ele deu de ombros, chamando o garçom com o indicador e o dedo médio para encher o seu copo novamente. "e que odeio passar meu tempo com os meus pais."

"por que?" você ergueu uma das sobrancelhas, impressionada. Blas não parecia o tipo de pessoa que faria algo contra a sua própria vontade.

"eles esperam que eu seja igualzinho a eles." ele matou o segundo copo em uma golada só. "mas, eu quero ser diferente."

"simplesmente porque quer?" você se inclinou na direção dele, interessada. você não tinha muitos conflitos com os seus pais nessa questão. tinha nascido em berço de ouro, tinha tudo o que queria e se eles quisessem que você estudasse para continuar dobrando o dinheiro que a fazia tão feliz, por você, tudo bem. qualquer pessoa que fizesse diferente, era uma incógnita.

"simplesmente porque nasci assim." os olhos dele estavam fixos no seu. você se sentia como o polo sul de um ímã. e Blas, era o polo norte. você sempre estava sendo puxada em sua direção.

seu celular vibrou em cima da mesa, fazendo você pular. era a sua mãe, perguntando onde você estava. com uma olhadela cúmplice, você bebeu o líquido do seu copo de uma só vez. seus pés alcançaram o chão com facilidade e quando você ficou de pé, sentiu todas as consequências de se beber sentada.

"demora um pouquinho antes de voltar, também." você aconselhou, Blas assentiu. passando no banheiro rapidamente, você retocou o gloss da Dior e voltou à mesa. os adultos nem mesmo se preocuparam com a sua desculpa, apenas sorriram comedidamente ao ver você de volta. Blas veio minutos depois, sentando-se silenciosamente como um gato preto.

na manhã seguinte, seus pais e o casal Polidori saíram para esquiar. você não ousou segui-los. preferiu o conforto quentinho do chalé e o café colonial que seus pais haviam encomendado. na sua terceira xícara de chocolate quente, você ouviu o som arranhado de um violão na sala principal. suas pantufas bateram silenciosamente contra o chão de madeira enquanto você seguia a acústica.

era Blas, dedilhando um violão habilidosamente enquanto cantava baixinho. você sorriu, entretida. ele tocava bem e cantava bem. talvez fosse por isso que ele era "diferente". estava ligado à arte e não aos negócios. você sorriu sozinha com a ideia.

ao perceber a sua presença, ele parou. deu um sorrisinho amarelo de nervosismo por você estar assistindo. você sorriu ainda mais largo por ter achado uma brechinha nele.

“não pare por mim. você estava tocando muito bem.” você pediu, sentando-se no sofá da sala.

“eu não sou muito de tocar pra público.” ele bateu os dedos nervosamente na lateral do corpo do violão. “você toca alguma coisa?”

“piano. desde os sete.” você sorriu, apontando para o instrumento do outro lado da sala. tinha tido a “escolha” de se dedicar ao piano ou ao violino. você tinha escolhido o mais querido entre os instrumentos de cordas.

“ah, aposto que seus pais que a influenciaram.” Blas abriu um sorrisinho, abraçando o violão. você sabia que aquele papinho dele era só para tirar a atenção de si mesmo.

“sim, mas eu gosto de tocar. me traz uma sensação muito boa.” você deu de ombros. não se importava com o fato de ter sido influenciada. “que tal, eu toco pra você e depois você me ensina a tocar o violão.”

“o que vai tocar?” ele ergueu uma das sobrancelhas, interessado. você se sentiu feliz ao vê-lo entretido e foi até o piano, abrindo a tampa do teclado.

“Tchaikovsky.” você balançou os braços. havia um tempinho que não tocava e tocar justamente na frente de Blas a deixava extremamente nervosa. você costumava a tocar muito bem em seus recitais, mas nunca tinha sentido tanta vergonha quanto naquele momento.

"uau. achei que você fosse uma garota mais Britney Spears do que Tchaikovsky." ele brincou. ele também tinha se levantado e estava apoiado na parte traseira do sofá que ficava pertinho do piano.

"primeiro, a Britney é um ícone e eu sou sim fã dela." você o olhou com um sorrisinho provocante. "depois, é engraçado que você saiba que meus pais me influenciaram a tocar piano e não desconfie que eles também me influenciam ouvir música clássica."

"muito esperta, nena." ele riu de lado. antes que você demonstrasse o quão nervosa estava, seus dedos tamborilaram contra as teclas e em segundos as notas solitárias tinham se transformado em Valse Sentimentale. você tocou por bons segundos, se entregando inteiramente à música. Blas te olhava atenciosamente, se aproximando de pouquinho à pouquinho até sentar-se ao seu lado no banco do piano. quando seus olhos encontraram os dele, os seus dedos escorregaram e atingiram uma nota errada.

"bom, agora é sua vez de me ensinar." você murmurou, tentando fingir que o erro havia sido proposital e não uma consequência do seu nervosismo de estar ao lado dele. Blas tinha um cheirinho de perfume Light Blue, cítrico, como se tivesse acabado de sair do banho.

"você é boa com os dedos, então vai pegar rápido." uma risada boba escapou dos seus lábios e ele riu ao entender o duplo sentido. "sem gracinhas, nena. preciso ficar sério se vou te ensinar."

você assentiu obedientemente e o violão dele ganhou espaço nas suas coxas. um dos braços dele deu a volta no seu corpo e você se sentiu mais pequena do que antes. respirando fundo para controlar o nervosismo, você deixou que ele colocasse seus dedos sobre as cordas rígidas.

"isso dói." você concluiu, enquanto Blas fazia você pressionar com mais força.

"só no início." ele murmurou baixinho, levando sua outra mão até a parte de baixo do violão, nas que as cordas estavam livres.

"essa conversa é familiar." você brincou, arrancando um outro sorriso dele. era estranho como o nervosismo e o conforto se alternavam quando vocês conversavam. sentia que poderia conversar com ele sobre tudo, mas se sentia nervosa ao pensar no que ele acharia de você. estava em seus pijamas, sem maquiagem e ao mesmo tempo pensava se ele te achava tão bonita quanto você o achava lindo.

"séria." ele ordenou e você fingiu fechar a sua feição. então, ele te ensinou a tocar a melodia que ele tocava minutos atrás. você pegou facilmente, mesmo quando não tinha força o suficiente para pressionar as cordas e dedilhá-las do jeito certo.

quando vocês estavam estranhamente confortáveis, com os joelhos se tocando e sorrisos de orelha à orelha, a voz familiar da sua mãe tomou o corredor que levava até a sala principal. você deslizou para longe de Blas, envergonhada de ser pega num momento tão íntimo.

os seus pais e os pais de Blas adentraram a sala e os mandaram se arrumar. aparentemente, outro restaurante excessivamente caro estava na programação daquela tarde. os olhos do Polidori a seguiram enquanto você deixava a sala e você jurou ver um pouquinho de decepção. assim como você, ele parecia não querer sair daquele momento tão gostoso.

depois de uma longa tarde comendo tudo que o cardápio podia oferecer, um cochilo demorado ocupou o resto do seu dia. já era noite quando você acordou e conferiu o celular, achando uma mensagem da sua mãe que dizia que seus pais e o os Polidori tinham saído para um bar.

você aproveitou da sensação gostosa de solidão, embora quisesse que Blas estivesse ali para passar a noite ao seu lado. colocando seu biquíni xadrezinho favorito da Burberry e roubando uma garrafa de champagne da adega, você fez seu caminho até o ofurô quentinho da área externa.

a visão era de tirar o fôlego. as montanhas nevadas e o céu repleto de estrelas lhe davam uma grande amostra de tranquilidade. o frio era completamente suprido pela água escaldante da banheira arredondada. o champagne se tornava mais saboroso à cada gole. você poderia dormir ali se algo não a arrancasse do seu juízo.

"sabia que beber na banheira é perigoso?" a voz grave a fez pular e você soltou a garrafa na banheira, que boiou um pouquinho antes de você pegá-la de volta.

"ainda bem que você chegou pra me olhar, então." um sorrisinho angelical delineou seus lábios. ele sorriu de volta. o sorriso tão sereno de Blas estava cheio de significados. pela primeira vez, você sentiu que ele também estava atraído por você. mais do que deixava transparecer, na verdade.

a blusa térmica que ele usava encontrou o chão e em segundos ele estava sentado ao seu lado, te olhando como se a visse pela primeira vez. você se sentiu desejada e aquela sensação borbulhante a fez ficar mais ousada. você entregou a garrafa pra ele, que bebeu sem contestar.

"você me ensinou uma coisa. agora eu preciso te ensinar algo de volta." sua voz saiu mais arrastada do que você planejava. um dos braços de Blas passou pelo seu ombro e você se aproximou mais um pouquinho, se apoiando nele.

"o que você vai me ensinar, atrevida?" o olhar dele encontrou o seu. você deu um sorriso ousado. conseguia sentir o hálito dele contra o seu e os cachinhos dele roçarem contra a sua testa. suas mãos seguraram a nuca dele com gentileza e seus lábios acharam o dele com tanta facilidade que foi difícil de se desgrudar. o jeitinho quieto e comedido não fazia jus à avidez com que o Polidori te beijava, abraçando sua cintura e te trazendo para o colo dele rapidamente.

"vou te ensinar à gostar das montanhas." você sussurrou ao pé do ouvido dele, mordiscando o lóbulo da sua orelha. "porque hoje você vai gozar olhando pra elas."

os dedos de Blas agarraram a sua bunda com força, a puxando para frente para que você caísse sobre ele. os lábios dele marcaram o seu pescoço e desceram pelo seu colo. embora o vento fosse cortante, você não conseguia sentir frio. estava inebriada com todo o carinho que estava ganhando.

quando os dedos alcançaram seus seios, você estremeceu. os dígitos longos a despiram da parte de cima do biquíni para que ele pudesse dar a devida atenção para os seus mamilos. primeiro, ele segurou seus seios nas palmas da mão, a puxando para ele, beijando seu pescoço devagarzinho. depois, com os dedos em pinça, começou a maltratar o biquinho do seu peito na intenção de fazê-la gemer. e aquilo funcionava muito bem. a cada beliscão e puxão, você pirraçava um pouquinho. e quando os dedos não eram suficientes, ele te mordia com força, como se você fosse uma bonequinha.

"coño... vai me machucar assim." você murmurou, embora não quisesse que ele parasse. a dor era como um carinho pra você.

"você disse que ia me fazer gozar." ele largou o seu mamilo para encarar você, o olhar mordaz a fazendo ficar quietinha. "então, seja uma boa putinha e me deixa gozar do jeito que eu quero."

você assentiu, muda. o âmago do seu estômago tinha virado um furacão, o tesão a devorando de dentro pra fora. sua resposta foi meramente rebolar o quadril para frente e para trás, arrancando um sorriso de aprovação do Polidori antes dele mergulhar nos seus seios novamente.

depois de minutos incontáveis de tortura onde ele marcava toda a sua pele e mordia seus seios com força, você estava sem condições de continuar naquele passo. a ereção de Blas roçava contra o paninho do seu biquíni, fazendo você reagir como uma cachorrinha no cio, sempre buscando por mais e mais contato. toda vez que o atrito atingia o seu clitóris daquele jeito gostosinho, você gemia baixinho.

"Blas, por favor..." você implorou. a sua pele já estava avermelhada, começando a formar petéquias em toda a região que ele havia apreendido com a dentição.

"eu sei." ele deixou um beijinho sobre os seus lábios rosados. as mãos dele finalmente deixaram seus seios e seguiram para a bermuda que ele usava, puxando-a para baixo lentamente. você sorriu ao ver que ele não usava nada além dela.

"até parece que alguém já sabia que ia transar hoje." você brincou. era difícil dizer vendo através da água, mas assim como tudo nele, o pau também era grande. e lindo.

"só tinha a grande expectativa." ele brincou de volta, puxando a sua calcinha para o lado. você se arrepiou, abriu um sorriso burrinho. então, era verdade. ele estava com tanta vontade quanto você.

Blas se posicionou na sua entrada e segurou a sua cintura com força. as mãos dele cobriam dois terços do seu corpo e você não conteve o tremor. quando ele deslizou para dentro, a água fez um vácuo gostoso dentro de você. um gemido escapou os seus lábios enquanto ele ia cada vez mais fundo. você sentiu um leve incômodo no colo do útero, mas nada que a fizesse desistir. afinal, sua mãe não tinha criado nenhuma medrosa.

"senta gostoso pra mim, nena." ele incentivou, as mãos a movimentando para cima e para baixo. não demorou até que você colocasse força nas próprias pernas e empurrasse o assento de madeira do ofurô com os joelhos. sua bunda fazia um barulhinho de splash toda vez que você quicava, mas tudo era abafado pelos gemidos. os seus, necessitados e agudos. os de Blas, arrastados e graves.

a fricção com a água, a pressão que você sentia toda vez ao sentar, tudo contribuía para a incrível sensação de formigamento que tomava o seu corpo. talvez, por tanto interesse e tanta atração, aquilo estava saindo muito melhor do que você esperava. além de ser bom em esconder tudo que pensava, Blas era ótimo em esconder o quão bem ele fodia. a carinha de anjo enganava qualquer um.

"acho que seu jeito de contrariar seus pais é ser uma vagabundinha quando eles não estão vendo." ele sussurrou contra a sua audição.

quando ele segurou a sua cintura para que você ficasse imóvel e ele pudesse fazer todos os movimentos de investida, te fodendo até os seus olhos revirarem, você sabia que não duraria muito. seus braços foram firmemente atados nas suas costas, impedindo você de fazer qualquer coisa. de alguma maneira hábil, ele conseguiu segurar o seu cabelo junto e em segundos você estava à mercê daquele argentino filha da puta.

"eu vou g-gozar." você anunciou. estava tão pertinho, mais algumas investidas e você se desfaria merecidamente. ele não disse nada, só continuou metendo cada vez mais fundo, arrancando mais gemidos, tornando seu corpo uma bagunça de prazer e espasmos enquanto seus gritos se tornavam inaudíveis.

"eu vou gozar na sua boca." a outra mão segurou o seu rosto, cobrindo toda as suas bochechas. "não dá pra deixar uma bagunça aqui."

você concordou, debilmente. depois de minutos sendo fodida estando tão sensível que você jurou que desmaiaria, Blas saiu de dentro de você e sentou na bordinha do ofurô, puxando seu rosto para o membro rijo. como você havia predito: era lindo. cheio de veias, brilhando pela bagunça que você havia acabado de fazer. ele precisou se masturbar só um pouquinho antes de colocar a cabecinha na sua boca, se derramando na cavidade. você sentiu o gostinho doce seguido do amargo, além de um resquício de si mesma ali. você engoliu tudo, recebendo um tapinha no rosto de Blas.

"boa menina." ele deixou um selar nos seus lábios, o polegar acariciando o inferior enquanto ele te olhava com um sorrisinho cafajeste. "te espero no banheiro pra gente continuar. agora é minha vez de te ensinar a gemer meu nome."

[hunilvs]

fever

jonathan byers x female reader

You always let yourself go to the very limit, always letting a little headache become a migraine. And if it wasn't for Jonathan, you'd be letting this fever run its course without any treatment.

cw: +18 MDNI, FLUFF (? jonathan is a sweetheart), SMUT, established relationship, lots of kissing, bathtub activities(?😭), oral (fem rec), a bit of angst...

word count: 2.5k

note: this was gonna be just about jonathan being an amazing caring boyfriend… but i had to corrupt him 💔 (😏😝)

Resting your head against Jonathan's pillow, the fever kept rising. The sound of water running in the next room kept your eyes heavy and your thoughts spiraling in the heat.

It was just luck, you thought, luck to have found this caring guy on that shitty so called best publishing house in town, luck, to get to choose his lunch because he was always shy to be as demanding as the idiots who ran the place.

Lucky to hold conversations about the same topics, and lucky to be part of his personal photography project... You were lucky to simply fit into his life, your house being on his way home so he always gave you a ride, or that one time he offered you a place to stay when the roads were flooded after a big storm.

Lucky you.

The bathtub was being filled in the next room by him, hoping to break the hot and cold haze that had taken over your body.

You were now somehow inside of it, your underwear still with you. The water felt warm and it instantly made your muscles relax. Jonathan began pouring in a bottle of bubble bath, one of many, that his mother's job wasn't able to sell last year.

He pinned your hair up and carefully placed a soft towel rolled up to cushion your head. He had music playing low, your favorite mix tape, the one he carefully made for you.

“Bath looks good.” His voice got you of your thoughts. “Feels good.” You nodded with eyes half closed, you were responsive, that was a good sign compared to your previous state.

“Is it too loud?” Jonathan looked back at the cassette player.

“Huh? Oh…no. Not really.” You shook your head.

Strands of hair were sticking to your sweat-damp forehead. He grabbed a washcloth and gently wiped the sweat away. When you looked at him, his eyes were so soft they made your heart ache.

He rested his palm against your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin while the other hand kept cleaning your face. You leaned into the touch, pressing a small kiss to his palm. He gave you a shy smile. “I'm sure this will make you feel better.”

Jonathan then reached for a bottle of shampoo, he thought that as long as you were in there, you deserved the full treatment. He squeezed the bottle and poured some shampoo on his hand. You closed your eyes, letting him do the work.

Once he applied it on your scalp, you couldn't help but smile at the sensation, it was so relaxing, greatest pleasure you were able to experience in weeks. He smiled and laughed with you, aware of the power of his touch.

“That feels so good Jon...” You let yourself relax and enjoy. The music, the little light of the spring afternoon coming out of the window, a warm, thick amber that felt like a memory.

It pulled you back to a few months ago, to an afternoon just like this one but of autumn.

Jonathan had spent the whole weekend begging you to go out. The Terminator was in theaters, and he knew a good movie was the only thing that could pull you away from your notes. He even suggested a walk in the woods afterward, desperate for anything to get you out of your own head.

Even after he’d finally convinced you it was Sunday and work could wait, you didn’t even look up when he walked through the door. You were too drowned in your own words to even notice your boyfriend.

“Jon, if I say she was withholding information... they’ll make her look guilty,” you muttered, pacing the room. “But what if she is? No, she wasn't even there. Why would she care? She was watching the neighbor... the blonde one! the entire time I was interviewing her...”

Jonathan stood in the center of the living room, squinting at the chaos that you had insisted, multiple times now, was actually perfectly organized. He stepped carefully toward the couch, trying his best not move your papers across the floor.

“I think... maybe you should-” Jonathan tried to break into your brainstorm, but you cut him off.

“I should have interviewed her first!” You scratched your head aggressively with the end of a pencil.

“If I had, their stories wouldn't match, and that would be it. But it’s too late for another interview now.” You sighed, your eyes darting through a million hypothetical scenarios. Finally, you turned to him, your expression wild.

“Do you think they talked? Doesn't the blonde one work the night shift? I could catch her at dawn on her way home... would that be too rude? To corner her at 6 AM?”

You were attacking him with questions he had no way of answering. You had promised him on the phone you’d be ready in fifteen minutes, but looking at you now, hair a mess, fingers stained with ink, it was clear you hadn't even started to get ready.

You were exhausted, and it showed. But the fear of being just "the lunch girl" was stronger than the fatigue. You knew every editor's preference, who wanted their bread toasted and who took their coffee black as ink, but they didn't know you had a voice. You were ready to trade the brown paper bags for a space on that light gray paper. The story had to be perfect. You were willing to get sick, to break, to do whatever it took to finish it. But Jonathan was the only thing standing in your way, and he refused to let you destroy yourself for a signature.

Jonathan had finally seen enough. He stepped into your path, blocking you from pacing any further. Gently but firmly, he reached his hand out to yours to take the pencil. As his skin brushed against your fingers, he felt how cold your hand was.

“No more.” he said, his voice low and caring.

The sudden stillness made you realize just how cold you actually were. You hadn't even noticed it while you were caught in your head, but now that you weren't moving, the chill of the room seemed to sink into your bones.

Jonathan didn't say a word as he took off his heavy jacket, the classic blue denim with the brown lining, he placed it over your shoulders. It was oversized and held that scent of his that always made you go crazy, a mix of his cologne and the fresh air from outside.

He didn't let go of you. He guided you toward the couch, stepping over the scattered notes, and sat down first, pulling you right onto his lap. You tucked your hands into the warm sleeves of his jacket, finally letting the heat sink in.

Resting in his lap, the fog of the investigation finally started to dissipate. You looked up at him, truly seeing him for the first time since he’d walked through the door.

A wave of guilt washed over you as you realized you hadn’t even said hello. “Hi...” you whispered, a small, tired smile finally tugging at your lips.

You leaned in, tilting your head up to find his lips, wanting to feel his warmth and apologize for being so distant. You pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his mouth, and for a second, the publishing house and the blonde neighbor didn't matter at all.

When you pulled back just a bit, Jonathan smiled, his eyes warm and relieved to have you back. “Hi.” he whispered back, his voice low and tender.

You wrapped your arms around him and leaned in, relaxing on top of him as you'd done a thousand times before. Whenever things got to be too much, Jonathan was always there to pull you back.

Jonathan caressed your hair, his lips now pressing delicate kisses against your neck, just enough to pull a soft moan from your throat.

The sound echoed in the present, a real moan escaping your lips as you sat in the warm bath. The sensation of his fingers massaging the shampoo into your scalp felt so similar that for a second, the two moments blurred into one.

Jonathan let out a little laugh, a bit confused but smiling. “That feels that good, huh?” he teased, his thumbs circling your head. You just leaned back into his hands, the memory and the reality blurring together

“I was just wondering, Jonathan... since we already filled the bathtub, would you be up to, maybe... joining me?”

Jonathan let out a soft shy laugh, his breath hitching in a way that made you bite your lip, nervous, expectant. Without saying a word, he carefully guided you to sit up so he could rinse the shampoo from your hair.

He stayed positioned behind you, in a way that made it impossible for you to see his face.

The water splashing softly against the porcelain as he worked. The moment the water stopped and the shampoo was gone, his touch changed. It wasn't about the bath anymore, his hand lingered on your shoulder, heavy and warm. His fingers started to trace the line of your shoulder with a feather light touch, moving slowly up the back of your neck.

Suddenly, his hand moved to the front, his fingers curling around the curve of your throat to pull your head back. From his spot outside the tub, he leaned over and found your lips at a sharp angle, kissing you from the side, his mouth pressing deep and hungry against yours while his hand held you steady.

A whimper left your throat when he parted from you to stand. You were quick to help him, fingers curling under the waistband of his pants. He removed his shirt quickly.

He bent down again, one of his hands cupped your face, pointer finger and thumb holding both sides of your chin.

The moment his jeans hit the floor, with your help, he was in the tub, and you were giggling underneath him as his mouth found yours hungrily.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, nipping at your bottom lip, eyes hooded.

“You’re in the tub, but you’re still in your underwear....” You teased, looking up at his face as the realization hit on him, he laughed confused. “That makes us both.” he said.

You looked down and remembered you were still in yours, too. You both stayed there for a second. Jonathan reached out, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead, his expression softening back into that protective "caretaker" look.

“Is someone still a little confused? How are you feeling?” he whispered, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Is that fever finally gone, or is it just me making you this hot again?”

You giggled, hiding your face against the crook of his neck and peppering it with kisses. Your hands moved to his shoulders, rubbing the tension away as he laughed softly against your skin. He knew you were definitely better, he could feel that the dangerous heat of the fever had finally faded, replaced by the natural warmth of the bath and your body.

Relief washed over him as he pulled you closer, returning the affection with light, butterfly kisses that started on your shoulder and trailed up to your neck.

His fingers began to wander, playfully teasing the straps of your bra, his touch lingering against your skin. The light in the bathroom was shifting into an orange, the sun was definitely setting now, casting long shadows across the room. In the background, the cassette player was still humming, Bruce Springsteen’s "I’m on Fire" began to fill the space. It was the perfect vibe, the music matching the slow, heavy heat between the two of you.

His fingers fumbled for a second against your back before he finally unclasped your bra, letting the straps slide off your shoulders as he carefully pulled it away from you.

Your head then fell back as you felt his fingers against your still covered clit, gently drawing circles that contrasted with the now sharp tiny bites he was leaving on your neck. His breathing was already ragged, and yours was picking up with each turn of his digits.

“Can you sit up on the edge of the tub for me?” He kissed your shoulder, fingers pressing slightly on the bundle of nerves between your folds.

You nodded, humming in agreement, as you lifted yourself to sit on the white rim. Jonathan followed you, eyes trailing down your wet form and stopping at where he had been touching you moments before, still covered in your white panties, which at the touch of the water left nothing to the imagination.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of the panties. They were soaked and clinging to your skin, but he peeled them down your thighs with a slow, steady pull, moving them past your knees and off your feet. He tossed the wet fabric onto the floor, his eyes never leaving yours.

His lust-filled gaze found yours as he leaned forward, tongue slowly running up your pussy lips before the tip was playing with your clit. If one of his hands hadn’t been splayed across your lower back, you would have fallen right out of the tub. He held you firm, his palm warm against your skin as he pulled you closer. His other palm stroked your thigh. While he wrapped his lips around your little bundle of nerves and began to suck gently, you felt one digit at your entrance, slowly invading you.

“Jonathan...” His name managed to leave your mouth. You tugged softly on his brown hair.

He set a moderate pace after a few moments, bringing his finger in and out of you as his tongue flicked your clit over and over... You gasped as he inserted another finger, eyes falling shut as he increased the speed of his thrusts as well as the movements of his tongue against your swollen bud. “Oh fuck- Jon-”

His digits curled inside you as they went in deeper. And you were shaking. It was getting to be too much. Jonathan was looking up at you the whole time, watching you with the most enchanted expression, one you always get to see when he is making you cum. He seemed to love the image of you coming undone, his name spilling from between your parted lips like you were worshipping him in return of every time he took care of you. Every time he brought you out of the mess in your head.

When you finally reached your peak, and even when your legs were still shaking, he pulled you down into the water with him, the water threatening to spill over the edges of the tub. With your legs locked around his hips, you pulled him into a deep, breathless kiss.

Still felling the aftershocks of your orgasm, between breathless kisses, his voice was low and sweet against your ear, praising how incredible you felt and how you were driving him crazy. He was worshipping the way you moved and tasted, his hands sure and steady against your wet skin.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you whispered. “I want you.” your voice trembling but certain. “Right now.”

part 2?? 😏 i love him

let me know if there's any mistakes 🫰🫰

[bellabuckley]

hiiiiii!!!!! I looooooooooove love love love your writing, I NEED. Like, not kidding, NEEEEEED more shy Jonny

ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ

shy!jonathan x worker reader, p in v, taking his virginity ;3

Jonathan Byers had always been the quiet one. The kid who hid behind a camera instead of talking, the brother who would walk through hell for his family but couldnt order pizza without mumbling his order twice. After the nightmares of 83 and 84 and 86 finally faded into something like normal, he still carried that shyness like a second skin. It clung to him in the way he ducked his head when someone smiled at him too long, in the way his ears went pink at the slightest compliment, in the way his fingers trembled just a little when he loaded film into his Nikon.

You had noticed it the first day you met him.

You had moved to Hawkins in the spring of 87 for the cheap rent and the quiet. Your aunt swore the town was peaceful now. You were twenty-one, fresh out of community college with a sketchbook full of charcoal drawings and a part-time job at the new art supply store on Main Street. Jonathan came in one rainy Thursday looking for a replacement lens cap, hoodie pulled low over his messy brown hair, shoulders hunched like he was trying to disappear into the linoleum.

He barely looked up when you asked, "Need help finding anything?" His voice was soft, almost swallowed by the rain drumming on the windows. "Uh... just the, um, 52mm caps? If you have any." You slid one across the counter. Your fingers brushed his. He jerked back like you had shocked him, cheeks flushing that pretty shade of rose you would later learn never really left his face when you were around.

That was the beginning.

He started coming in every week, even when he didnt need anything. You would play The Cure or Joy Division low on the store speakers and catch him lingering by the photography magazines, stealing glances at you between pages. You learned his name from the faded "J. Byers" Sharpied on his camera strap. You learned he lived with his mom and little brother in that little yellow house down the road from the store, that he worked odd jobs developing photos for the Hawkins Post, that his eyes were the color of wet pine needles and they always dropped to the floor when you said his name.

"Jonathan," you would tease, leaning over the counter, "you gonna ask me out or just keep pretending to read about f-stops?"

His Adam's apple bobbed. "I... I wasnt... I mean, I did not think you would..." You waited. He finally met your eyes, shy and determined all at once. "Would you maybe... want to get coffee? Or something? After your shift?"

You said yes before he could take it back.

The first date was awkward in the sweetest way. He showed up at the store in a clean flannel that still smelled like darkroom chemicals, hair damp from a nervous shower. He drove you to the little diner on the edge of town in his mom's old Ford, hands white-knuckled on the wheel. When you slid into the booth across from him, he ordered black coffee and immediately spilled half of it trying to pass you the sugar.

"Shit... sorry," he muttered, grabbing napkins, face burning. You laughed and covered his hand with yours. "Its okay. I like clumsy."

He looked at you then. Really looked. And something in his chest cracked open. You could see it in the way his shoulders loosened, just a fraction.

You started seeing each other every weekend after that. Walks in the woods behind the quarry where he would point out the way light hit the leaves and you would sketch it in your notebook. Nights on his porch swing where he would play mixtapes he had made just for you. Slow, dreamy songs that made your pulse thrum. He never pushed. Never tried to kiss you first. Every time your knees brushed or your fingers tangled, he would freeze like he was waiting for permission, cheeks pink, breath shallow.

It was the third week when you finally pulled him into your apartment above the store and kissed him.

The second the door clicked shut, you cupped his face. "Can I?" He nodded so fast it was almost comical. "Yeah. God, yes."

His lips were soft, hesitant. He tasted like the mint gum he had chewed the whole drive over. At first he let you lead. He let you press him back against the wall, let your tongue trace his bottom lip until he whimpered. Then something shifted. His hands found your waist, tentative and trembling, and he kissed you back like he had been starving for it. Shy little sounds escaped him every time you nipped at his jaw: tiny gasps, half-swallowed moans that made heat pool low in your belly.

You pulled back just enough to whisper, "Bedroom?"

He swallowed hard. "I... Ive never..." His voice cracked. "Not really. Not like this."

You brushed your thumb over his burning cheek. "We can stop anytime. I just want you, Jonathan. All of you. Shy and nervous and perfect."

He let you take his hand and lead him down the short hallway.

Your room was dim, only the bedside lamp glowing warm gold. You peeled his flannel off slowly, kissing every inch of skin you uncovered. Collarbone, sternum, the faint scar that ran across his ribs from some Upside Down fight he would never talk about. He shivered under your mouth, fingers twitching at his sides like he didnt know what to do with them.

"You can touch me," you murmured against his stomach, dropping to your knees to unbutton his jeans. His breath hitched. "I... I dont wanna mess it up." "You won't."

When you tugged his jeans and boxers down, his cock sprang free. Already hard, flushed dark at the tip, a bead of pre-cum glistening. He was bigger than you expected, long and thick, curving slightly up. Jonathan made a strangled noise and tried to cover himself with his hands.

"Hey," you said gently, pulling his wrists away. "You're beautiful. Let me see."

You took him into your mouth slow and warm. His knees nearly buckled. "Oh... fuck..." The word sounded shocked coming out of his shy mouth. One hand flew to your hair, not pulling, just holding on like you were the only thing keeping him upright. You hollowed your cheeks, tongue swirling around the head, and his hips jerked forward on instinct before he caught himself.

"S... sorry," he gasped, cheeks scarlet. "I didnt mean..."

You pulled off with a wet pop and looked up at him. "Do it again. I like it when you cant control yourself."

He whimpered. Actually whimpered. And let his hips rock shallowly into your mouth while you worked him deeper. His thighs trembled. Little broken praises spilled out: "Feels so good... you're so... ah... perfect... I cant... Im gonna..."

You stopped just before he tipped over the edge, standing to kiss him again. He chased your mouth desperately, tasting himself on your tongue, hands finally brave enough to slide under your shirt. You let him undress you, guiding his shaky fingers over every button, every zipper. When you were bare, he just stared, breathing hard.

"You are... Jesus," he whispered. "I do not deserve this."

You took his hand and placed it between your legs. "Feel how much I want you."

He groaned at how wet you already were. His fingers explored clumsily at first. Shy circles around your clit, one tentative finger sliding inside. Until you moaned his name and his confidence flickered higher. He added a second finger, curling them the way you showed him, eyes fixed on your face like he was memorizing every reaction.

When you were trembling on the edge, you pulled him down onto the bed. "I need you inside me, Jonathan."

He fumbled with the condom you handed him, tearing the wrapper twice before you helped. Once it was on, he hovered over you, elbows braced, cock nudging your entrance. His hair fell into his eyes, cheeks flushed, lips parted.

"Tell me if it hurts," he whispered. "Or if I'm too much. Or..."

You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him in.

The stretch was perfect. He sank in slow, inch by inch, eyes squeezing shut at the heat of you. A long, shaky moan tore from his throat. "Holy shit... you feel..." He bottomed out and stilled, forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged. "Im not gonna last. You feel too good."

You kissed him soft and slow. "Move when you're ready, baby. I got you."

He started rocking. Gentle, careful thrusts that still made the bed creak. Every time he bottomed out he let out these quiet, overwhelmed sounds: little "ah-ah-ah"s that drove you crazy. His shyness did not vanish; it just turned softer. He hid his face in your neck when you clenched around him, whispering, "I can feel you squeezing me... fuck, m'so close already."

You rolled your hips up to meet him, nails dragging down his back. "Look at me."

He lifted his head. His eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide, cheeks cherry red. You held his gaze as you reached down to rub your clit. His rhythm faltered, hips stuttering.

"That's it," you praised. "Let go. I wanna feel you come."

He lasted maybe thirty more seconds. Thrusts turning desperate and shallow. Before he buried himself deep and came with a broken cry of your name. You felt every pulse, every twitch inside you, and it sent you over the edge right after him, clenching around his cock while he shook through it.

He didn't pull out right away. He stayed buried inside you, arms trembling as he held himself up, pressing soft, shy kisses to your collarbone, your jaw, your lips.

"I'm sorry I... finished so fast," he mumbled, ears still pink. "Next time I'll... I'll do better. I promise."

You laughed softly and pulled him down so his full weight rested on you. "Jonathan. That was perfect. You are perfect."

He buried his face in your neck again, but you felt him smile against your skin.

After that, the shyness didnt go away. It just became part of the heat between you.

The second time was in his bedroom at the Byers house. Joyce and Will were out of town for the weekend, and Jonathan had spent the whole afternoon cleaning, changing the sheets twice, lighting a single candle like he was setting up a photo shoot. When you walked in he was sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but sweatpants, fiddling with the drawstring, cheeks already flushed.

"I, uh... I read some stuff," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Wanted to make it good for you."

You straddled his lap and kissed him until he stopped thinking. This time he was braver. Hands mapping every curve of your body like he was trying to memorize it for a portrait. When you sank down onto him, taking him in one slow glide, he moaned so loud you had to cover his mouth with your palm.

"Quiet, baby," you teased, rolling your hips. "Neighbors might hear how shy you sound when you're getting fucked."

His eyes rolled back. He gripped your hips hard enough to leave faint bruises, but still let you set the pace, still whispered "please" and "more" like he was afraid to ask for what he wanted. You rode him until his thighs shook and his voice cracked on your name, until he came with his face pressed between your breasts, muffling the sound of his orgasm against your skin.

The third time was in the darkroom he had set up in the basement of the old Hawkins Post building after hours. Red safelight bathed everything in crimson. You had come to watch him develop photos. Your photos, the ones he had taken of you laughing in the woods, hair wild, eyes bright. He was halfway through hanging a print when you pressed up behind him, hand sliding into the front of his jeans.

"Jonathan," you whispered against the shell of his ear, "you've been hard since I walked in."

He whimpered, forehead thunking against the drying rack. "I cant help it... you look so pretty in the red light."

You spun him around, dropped to your knees on the concrete floor, and took him down your throat while he clutched the edge of the counter. His hips jerked helplessly; quiet, desperate little noises spilled out of him with every bob of your head. When he couldnt take it anymore he pulled you up, turned you around, and bent you over the counter. Still shy, still asking "Is this okay?" even as he pushed inside you from behind.

The wet slap of skin echoed in the small room. He draped himself over your back, one hand between your legs rubbing clumsy circles on your clit, the other braced beside your head. "You're so wet... I can hear it," he breathed, voice wrecked. "I love making you sound like that."

You came first, knees buckling, and he followed right after, hips stuttering as he filled the condom with a choked moan.

Afterward he cleaned you up with the same gentle care he used developing film. Soft cloths, careful touches, endless shy kisses pressed to your shoulders while he whispered how beautiful you were, how lucky he felt, how he still could not believe you wanted all of him.

Months passed like that. Jonathan stayed shy in the daylight. Blushing when you held his hand in public, ducking his head when you told him he looked hot in that black t-shirt, stammering through compliments. But at night he learned to let go. He learned how to pin your wrists above your head and fuck you slow and deep until you were sobbing his name. He learned how to eat you out for hours, face buried between your thighs, ears scarlet but tongue relentless, until you came so many times you lost count. He learned how to beg so prettily when you edged him. Voice cracking, hips twitching, whispering "please let me come, I'll be good, I swear."

And every single time, no matter how confident he got, there was still that sweet, stuttering shyness underneath. The boy who couldnt look you in the eye the first time he told you he loved you, the boy who blushed down to his chest when you called him a good boy while he was buried inside you, the boy who hid his face in your neck after every orgasm like he was still surprised you wanted all of him.

[mogiejojo]

only you

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A/N - I might be getting back into writing and stuff so take this lil blurb for now, kinda bounces all over the place but i refuse to proofread so this totally might suck balls

content - possessive reader, jealousy, kind of very toxic relationship, p in v, minimal foreplay, kinda? hate sex, semi-public, reader is angry and uses mean words for other women, she kinda crazy yall sorry, body worshipping, established relationship

—————————————————————————————————————

You gave Shane a short side hug before he managed to disappear— it was almost time for his performance. This was huge for him. So many people— important people, nonetheless. He had already been awarded his trophy. He won one of the awards he was nominated for, and you couldn’t be prouder of your lover.

Lights dimmed, and you found your seat eagerly, beyond excited to see Shane’s performance. With a smile, you watched the stage, already able to see the figures of Shane’s band playing the intro to ‘Back to Friends.’

All was well— people were on their feet. Singing, dancing, loving the energy he was bringing to the show. You watched in anticipation as he slid the mic into his front pocket, disappearing into the Photo Booth he had started in.

Immediately, your eyes locked onto the blonde woman dancing in front of the curtain, but shook away any negative thoughts you had. The same way you shoved your feelings down when he exited the other side of the photo booth and was lifted into the air by numerous women— all of which dressed in tiny, tight clothing.

Your leg bounced in pure anxiety and even slight anger as you clutched your purse in your lap tightly. Was he serious?

With a brain full of racing thoughts, you stood up, not caring about anything other than making your way to the bathroom so you could regulate your emotions. You were teetering on a very dangerous edge, and you knew if you stayed and watched any longer you’d probably throw up.

After Shane’s performance, he wandered off to mingle with interviewers and other artists, leaving you to return to the bathroom. you locked yourself in a stall, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a stressed sigh.

A loud bang echoed off the bathroom walls as a couple girls shuffled into the bathroom, and you quickly stumped out the cigarette, waving some smoke from the air so they wouldn’t see it billowing out of the stall.

“The performances were so amazing!” One girl cheered loudly, her friends chattering in agreement.

“Did you see… oh, god, what’s his name? Sombr? The one who had all the dancers out there with him.” Another girl said, grabbing her friends arm and shaking her slightly.

“Oh, yeah! When the chick licked him? That was insane. It was kind of gross.”

“It was kind of sexy.”

You finally started tuning them out— not because you didn’t want to hear more, but because panic flooded your senses. He was having girls lick him? It couldn’t have been that bad, right?

Pulling your phone out, you quickly searched for videos of his performance, which, of course had surfaced very quickly. You felt your stomach turn as you watched a clip, seeing that girl crawling towards him on the floor, how he cupped her jaw. Your feeling of nausea only worsened as she was pulled to her feet, licking a long, flat stripe up his chest and his neck.

You quickly shut your phone off, standing up and storming out of the stall, the girls who were chatting all turning to look at you with wide eyes. You didn’t pay them any mind as you left the bathroom, immediately starting on your mission to find Shane.

You spotted him through the crowd, his tall frame easy to see over the sea of shorter people. You pushed your way through, giving absolutely zero niceties to the people you shoved or elbowed. He was on camera, being interviewed, but you couldn’t will yourself to care enough as you stormed up to him, reaching up, grabbing his ear roughly and tugging him off into the distance, despite his shock.

“Babe— Baby, what—“ He stumbled over his words, not daring to force your hand away from his ear, instead letting you tug him roughly to a family bathroom. You pushed him inside, slamming and locking the door as you two entered.

“What the FUCK, Shane?!” You demanded, shoving him with two firm hands against his chest. He stumbled back slightly, catching himself on the sink.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He pleaded, trying to get an ounce of context for this sudden whirlwind of your anger. Simply by not knowing what he did wrong, your anger intensified and you let out a loud groan of frustration.

“You! What the fuck was that on stage? It was bad enough they were all dressed like fucking whores, but to choreograph one of them licking you like that?!” You snapped, and a little part of you felt almost stupid. It wasn’t like they fucked, but it still felt majorly disrespectful so you put the feeling of shame for your outburst somewhere deep inside you.

“Y/N, it was literally just a performance, shock value, whatever— it didn’t mean anything.” Shane spoke, glaring down at you like you were crazy. He took a step closer, his brows furrowed.

“Bullshit! You didn’t talk to me about it, you didn’t warn me, didn’t ASK if I was okay with some other bitch spreading her fucking spit all over you!”

A grunt of frustration left him this time, and he ran his hands over his face. “You always do this.”

You stuck your finger out, jabbing it into his chest as you got up close to him, invading his space as you spoke lowly, almost dangerously. “Do NOT fucking act like this is my fault. Do not act like I’m crazy for feeling this way when you act like a fucking dog.”

Your tone shut Shane up quickly. His jaw clenched, before relaxing again. Without another word from him, he grabbed your face roughly, leaning down pressing a hard kiss to your lips. He knew your weaknesses— knew how to push this argument aside until a later date, and he was damn well going to use it to his advantage.

You let out a groan of frustration into his mouth, and he swallowed it hungrily, his lips working over yours incessantly until you caved, pressing your lips back against his. The second you reciprocated, his hand fell from your face and found your waist, wrapping around you and pulling you harder against him. His other hand gripped the back of your neck, searching for more pressure in your kiss.

You tugged him down further by the neck of his blazer jacket, and at the same time, felt his fingertips press harder into your skin. The hand on the back of your neck slid up into the hair at the base of your skull, tangled in the strands, and tugged back until your head craned back.

He broke the heated kiss, and his lips found your jaw, kissing all the way back to your ear before descending down your neck. He inhaled your scent, reveling in the way your perfume flooded his senses.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re pissed…” He spoke lowly against your jugular, before his hands slid back down to your waist, then reaching around slightly on either side to grip your ass, using it as leverage to pull you against him, closer and harder.

You felt anger slowly dissipating in you, at least for now.

He grumbled in annoyance at the slickness of your long, tight dress. It was more difficult for him to grab handfuls of your body.

“Turn around.” He commanded, giving you a gentle swat on the ass. He didn’t wait for you to obey, simply turned you on his own. He lifted your hair out of the way, gentle brushing it over your right shoulder so he could unzip your dress. It was astounding how he could be so rough, so mean, but so gentle all at once.

Each couple of inches of skin that was revealed by your dress being unzipped, earned a kiss to your shoulder or spine, even if he had to bend down almost comically low to plant his lips in those places. With every contact he made, sent a shiver down your spine, made goosebumps rise on your skin.

When your dress had pooled around your ankles, he carefully walked you forward so you were facing the mirror just above the long sink. You were left with your styled hair, makeup, your jewelry, and only fabric that Shane could only describe as a pathetic attempt at underwear— a tiny, thin little thing. No bra.

He stood behind you, his gaze almost predatory. “Look at how beautiful you are.” He demanded gently but firmly. You stayed silent, your eyes meeting his in the mirror for only a moment before your gaze returned to yourself.

“How could I ever want anyone but you?” He whispered, having leant down to press his lips gently against your ear. His fingertips brushed almost ghostly up your arms, his lips moving to your shoulder again.

You leaned your head back against him, but his hand found your throat— not squeezing, barely applying pressure— just resting there.

“You’re so pretty. So perfect…” he spoke against your skin, placing one more tender kiss against your neck before he pushed you forward, bending you over the sink with ease. You let out a surprised gasp, your hands finding the edges of the counter to stabilize yourself.

His hands slid down your sides, fingers hooking into the straps of that tiny little thong you were wearing. He kicked your feet apart, and then, as he slowly pulled it down, he kneeled behind you. He pressed kisses to the backs of your thighs, his large hand finding your ankle and gently lifting it to assist you in stepping out of your panties, mirroring that same action on your other leg next.

His hands gently slid back up the backs of your legs as he lifted his head slightly. His touched you reverently, like he was worshipping every inch of you, reveling in the feeling of your soft skin under his palms, under his fingertips.

Your head fell forward and your mouth opened as a long finger slid carefully through your folds. But you didn’t make a sound. I looked up to your face in the mirror. He realized what you were doing— You were mad at him still. You weren’t going to give him what he loved for: Those moans that drove him crazy.

He stood up suddenly, his hands finding his belt. “Fine. You won’t moan for me? I’ll make you fucking moan for me.”

His voice was trembling, like he was hurt by your reluctance, even though he got himself in this position. He shoved his dress pants down his thighs just enough for his cock to spring out— Already hard, leaking, angry. “You see how hard I am for you? Just from looking? Just from touching you? I fucking worship the ground you walk on. Only. You.”

He stepped forward, pressing himself against your backside as his hands gripped your hips hard. “Just fucking say something. Talk to me. Talk back, anything, please. Don’t make me think you hate me.” his words were quiet, his voice breaking slightly. He knew you were mad, and maybe he deserved it. But truly, he only wanted you.

The silence continued, and he groaned in frustration and hurt. Your eyes were locked onto his in the mirror, but there wasn’t a drop of remorse on your face for making him feel like shit.

“Fuck you.” He hissed, before lining his cock up with your entrance, shoving himself inside with absolutely zero warning.

You let out a moan of pure shock, surprise— and that was all the permission he needed to start moving, his hips slamming against your ass with no mercy as your body rocked back and forth against the counter of the family bathroom. Your hands gripped at the counter, trying hard to steady yourself as you lost full control of your noises— handing the control to him.

He tilted his hips just right, slamming into you at that angle over and over and over— drilling into the deepest parts of you with every single thrust he delivered into you.

“There it is… Let go… I don’t care who hears us…. Let them know you’re mine…” He spoke, his voice shaking as he fought the violent pleasure coursing through him. This was always how he apologized— He made things right in his own way. and right now— his apology was proving that he wasn’t ashamed of you, that he only wanted you.

“Fuck— Shane…” You panted, finally giving into the pleasure and letting those pretty noises he loved so much escape you as he slowed his thrusts and leaned over your back. Pressing his lips to the skin over your spine, he left small suction marks across your flesh.

“I’m sorry, pretty baby…” He moaned out against your skin, his body trembling as he kept his hips moving into you. One of his hands left your hip to cover your own hand on the counter, the other reaching around your body to draw tight, quick circles over your clit. “Feels s’good, love… you feel so good…”

You were quickly nearing your orgasm, moans getting slightly louder. You could feel your stomach tightening up as the pleasure brewed inside of you.

“I’m close… So close…” You said through your now desperate moans and whines. You were pushing back against him with each thrust— creating a loud symphony of skin slapping together, wet noises, and both of your guys’ moans.

Shane could also tell how close you were by the way your inner walls fluttered around his cock, making him gasp, making his hips stutter. But he quickly resumed his pace, resting his forehead against the back of your neck. His eyes were screwed tightly shut, the sounds of your moans truly his undoing. He thought they were better than any song, any music he had ever heard.

“Let go… lemme feel you…” he panted, standing up slightly straighter as he really started driving himself home, his hips losing a fluent rhythm and getting more jerky and urgent. He was so close, it almost hurt.

The second he locked eyes with you in the mirror, he came undone, his hips slowing their movements as he unloaded inside of you. He kept rubbing your clit through his orgasm, despite the overstimulation it brought him to feel your walls clenching around his softening cock.

You let go, a loud whimper leaving you as you pressed your forehead against the counter in front of you. Your release coated his length.

It took the two of you a few moments to recover, with Shane leaned back over you and panting against your shoulder, and you remaining bent over the counter.

He slowly pulled out of you, a shiver running down his spine at the loss of your warmth. “You did perfect… So perfect… Sounded so pretty for me..” He babbled, carefully lifting you up onto the counter and stepping between your legs to kiss you, to which you complied and found your trembling hands cupping his face.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” You cursed softly, but the forgiveness was evident in your tone as you rested your forehead against his. His hands slid up your thighs, gently massaging your hips as he found them.

“I’ll talk to you next time…” He promised quietly, lifting his head to press a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Good. Now get me dressed.” You spoke with a slight smirk, watching as he kissed you one last time and pulled away to carefully pull your dress from the bathroom floor, wiping it gently with his hands. He looked back to you apologetically as he helped you off the counter.

“Wanna come do some interviews with me?” Shane asked gently, still trying to mend his mistake now that he had realized he was definitely wrong for choreographing that whole performance like that without talking to you first.

“If we don’t get kicked out.” You teased.

[harryslttlefreak]

for so long ⋆˚⟡˖ ࣪ sombr / s.b.

fem!reader x sombr

song inspo: everybody here wants you by jeff buckley

and our eyes locked in downcast love, i sit here proud even now, you're undressed in your dreams with me i'll be waiting right here just to show you how our love will blow it all away

summary: you've been best friends for good while, but neither of you can deny the tension that's been building between the two of you. his vma performance gets you thinking, and you decide to be bold. after texting him and teasing him for the entirety of an afterparty/dinner, he just can't take it anymore

content / warnings: flustered shane (my fav), swear words, handjob (m and f receiving), oral (m and f receiving), p in v (no protection #raw) so much teasing, sub!shane, a little fluff at the end

a/n: my second shane one shot of many to come, there's a lot of sub!shane in the works because its just so like perfect LMFAO i hope you guys likeeee

The afterparty buzzes with energy, the rooftop warm with music, chatter, and the soft glow of hanging lights. Clusters of people linger around tables, some laughing loudly, others leaning in close as the night breeze drifts through the crowd.

Shane is sitting opposite you, still riding the high of his first VMA award and performance. His black shirt is unbuttoned just enough to hint at the line of his chest, the fabric loose in a way that makes him look effortlessly magnetic. People come and go, offering him congratulations, smiles, pats on the back, before moving on to their seats on one of the many huge tables ready to have dinner.

You shift in your seat, smoothing your dress, the slit brushing against your thigh as you cross your legs. Your gaze keeps finding his, noticing the way he laughs at the jokes being told, the slight twitch of his jaw as he talks, the way his eyes would quickly look away when they occasionally flicked to yours. Years of a close friendship has built up a quiet tension between the two of you, subtle but consistent, and tonight it felt really real.

Earlier, as you watched him perform, you felt it flare hotter than ever. The way his hips moved on stage, the confidence and energy he had on stage, the way the dancers were pressing close. It all left a warmth in your stomach, one that was getting really hard to ignore.

And so you decide to be bold. Picking up your phone, you tune out the dinner conversation about industry gossip around you, and type slightly hesitantly, keeping it light and subtle.

y/n: heyyy you killed it tonight. the energy was crazy

Shane's phone vibrates in his pocket. He fishes it out, reading the message, which causes him to grow a small smile, assuming this is just your general friendly praise that he always appreciates. He glances up at you, nodding appreciatively, before replying.

shane: thank u diva was nervous at first but i think i did pretty good

You smile to yourself, your foot "accidentally" brushing his ankle under the table. He doesn't think anything of it, focused on the conversations around him.

y/n: mhmmm u were moving so smooth and confident had everyone hooked. me included

Shane pauses, his fork hovering above his plate. It sounded a bit personal now, but he brushes it off. This is his best friends hyping him up, that's all.

shane: oh thank you the dancers helped sell it tho

It's cute how he thinks this is just another one of your friendly joking conversations. Your foot slides up his calf a bit, the light graze making him shift in his seat. He attributes it to the crowded table, though, and assumes it was an accident because of the tight space. Your pulse quickens a bit, patting yourself on the back for how bold you're about to get.

y/n: hmm i mean the dancers were great but i think youuu were for sure the center of it all u were all sweaty too, ur shirt was clinging to u

He reads it, brow furrowing a bit. Sweaty? Shirt clinging? It felt oddly specific. Maybe you're just recapping.

shane: well i guess it was pretty hot up there like the lights and the choreo plus adrenaline yk

You look up to see the confusion flickering in his eyes as they met yours, briefly, before biting your lip and looking back down at your phone.

y/n: adrenaline looks good on you. couldn't look away especially with the way u were rolling ur hips

Oh.

Oh.

Shane's cheeks warmed faintly. This was new and very unexpected from you. This is his best friend, after all. I mean sure, a best friend he's basically always wanted more with but he couldn't tell you felt the same. He blinks at the screen, rereading, and a second passing before he could breathe in and respond. This isn't standard banter or friendly conversation. His heart skips a beat before he responds.

shane: oh thank you y/n this is kind of unexpected. my hips?

y/n: mhm keep replaying it in my head. you moving like that. gets my imagination going

He freezes, gripping his phone tighter. Imagination? His mind starts racing. Is this a joke? Is this just teasing? Did you somehow figure out his massive crush on you and are making fun of him for it?

shane: imagination? sorry im just not used to this. this isn't like you y/n

Emboldened by his flustered reply, you turn the hints more direct, your foot tracing a bit higher, closer to his knee. Little does he know, this is very much like you, and it's very much built up arousal you have for him. He just doesn't know it.

y/n: oh yk just you against those dancers guess i wish i was one of them

His face flushes deeper, eyes widening as he looks up at you from across the table. The flustered look on his face makes you grin as you hold his gaze.

shane: wait what? you're messing with me y/n: not messing, shane im being so serious kept watching u and thinking of what it would feel like being that close to u

He swallows hard, adjusting in his seat as arousal builds in him. He feels a familiar stir in his lower stomach, one that he's felt many times before thinking of you.

shane: y/n, are you drunk? you never talk to me like this y/n: stone sober, actually i never talk to u like this but i do always think like this like right now. the way your shirt is half open right now. such a tease

Shane's breath catches in his throat. He's really hard now, and trying to hide it from those next to him. The vagueness earlier in your texts shattered into clear intent, and you definitely caught him off guard.

You move your foot just a little higher, grazing the edge of his bulge briefly before pulling back, watching him jolt. He closes his eyes for a second, trying to control his raging boner, but there was no use in his efforts.

y/n: surprised, huh? now imagine my hands there instead of my foot maybe even my lips would u like that?

He nearly dropped his phone, face burning as filthy visions flooded him. These are the fantasies he'd tried so hard to bury, thinking you would never feel the same way and want the same things.

shane: holy shit y/n yes i would like that a lot

y/n: perfect

He put his phone back in his pocket, looking at you. His cheeks are a bright red, and he takes a few sips of the cold water on the table in front of him in an attempt to cool himself down. You're just finding so much pleasure in teasing him like this, you can't just stop here. Something about the way he gets so red, so flustered, so visibly undone, is so fucking hot. His heart drops to his stomach when he feels another buzz from his phone, almost spitting out some water.

y/n: did u think i was gonna just stop there?

Shane just looks up at you like he's trying to hold back every urge he's ever had. He doesn't know how to respond to that text, and he's hoping you're gonna take the wheel.

y/n: what if i was under that table right now and u were trying not to make noise with all these people sitting here

Fuck. He can't even think straight. This is really you telling him the things you want with him. Your voice, your thoughts, your fantasies.

shane: you're driving me crazy y/n

You smirk before putting your phone back in your purse, keeping him on this cliffhanger for the rest of the dinner. Through the evening, he keeps staring at you, but avoiding eye contact once you look back at him. Your texts left him dazed and throbbing for you on him, touching him, anything.

At least another 45 minutes goes by— a very long 45 minutes, for Shane especially— before everyone begins to stand up and finally say their goodbyes.

You hurry out as soon as you can, much before Shane can since you didn't really have many people to talk to before you left. Waiting by his car, which he drove you both to the afterparty with, you shoot him another text.

y/n: im by your car be quick, can't wait much longer

Seeing this text makes him lose his patience even more. Shane finally escapes the crowd, walking as fast as he can out of the venue and into the parking lot, rushing to his car. His mind races as he gets closer, trying to figure out how to even approach you after all of those texts. He's worried he can't look you in the eye without damn near cumming in his pants.

He spots you waiting, his posture stiffening and his eyes hungry. He quickly unlocks the doors so you can sit and no longer wait in the cold, and he follows, sitting next to you in the drivers seat.

"Hey," you say, acting casual but smirking at him as he tries to look at you without burning up, but it's no use.

"Those texts. Did you really mean them?"

"Every word, Shane. You were so shocked back there. Cute, how it took you a second to catch on."

He turns the car on, turning red again, but unable to wait any longer to get out of the crowded parking lot and back to his place.

"I just wasn't.. expecting you to be talking like.. that. I mean- flirting? F-fantasies? We've been best friends for so long, and-"

He's cut off by the feeling of your hand on his thigh, cock twitching in his pants. He takes a deep breath, making you giggle.

"Friends who stare at each other a bit too long," you remind him. "I know you think about me like that, Shane."

"Is it really t-that obvious?"

You smile. "I can just tell."

"I've been trying to hide it- I mean, I guess I just never thought you would think about me like that that, too."

"I do. All the time."

These confessions make a shiver run down his spine. His face heats as the car idles behind a red light. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel, trying to get some sort of control over the situation. You notice, and how could you just not tease him about this, too.

"Nervous, huh?"

"S-sorry I just- your texts, you, got me so worked up," he admits, looking at you for a second before the light turns green again.

"Mm. Don't apologize. I think it's hot."

He takes another deep breath at your words. You slide your hand up a little higher, pressing gently but firmly against the growing bulge in his pants.

"I think you're hot," you say, smirking.

"Ah- fuck!" he whispers at the sensation, hips bucking involuntarily. “Y/n, I- fuck, we might crash if you don't stop."

Your hand circles the tip of his cock through the cloth, slow and deliberate during what feels like the longest drive of his life.

"Hm.. then focus. Need to get home with you tonight."

He whimpers at the feeling of your fingers so close, yet so far away, separated by fabric. The sound he makes causes a pool of wetness to grow in your underwear. You can't deny that you've always wanted to hear him like this.

"Keep talking though, baby."

You feel his cock twitch through his pants at you calling him 'baby'. It drives him even crazier.

"Y/n, you can't just- fuck- can't tease me and... say all this stuff a-and call me that if you don't mean it. Need to know you mean it."

"Oh, I mean it, baby. I promise. Been thinking about this and you for so long."

The fabric of his pants begin to dampen from the leaking pre-cum.

"Can feel how hard you are, baby. So fucking hot."

He whimpers, trying to keep his eyes open and on the road. With one more block left, your touches bring him to the edge without release. Your hand varies in pressure, sometimes light grazes and other times full squeezes.

By the time he parks in the driveway of his house, he feels wrecked, cock straining painfully against the tight confines of his clothes, begging for more.

He opens the door for you and you walk in, and as soon as the door is closed, he impulsively pushes you against the wall and give you the deepest, most passionate kiss you've had in your life. You’re taken aback by his actions for a moment, but you immediately kiss him back, your hands flying to the sides of his face. He pulls away, looking at you with raw desperation.

“S-sorry, I- that was a little harsh,” he says, cheeks reddening. “Just wanted to kiss you for so long.”

“Me too, baby,” you smile, kissing him again. His tight grip on your hips sparks something in you. “Bedroom. Now,” you say, giggling as you grab his hand and lead him through his own apartment to his bedroom.

You slip your arms out of the thin straps of your slip dress and look at him permissively. He inches closer and brings his shaky hands to the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head, revealing to him that you have no bra on. You move closer to him, placing your hands on his chest, and his arms move to wrap around your bare waist.

Oh my god. Oh. my. god.

“Shit, y/n,” he says, staring in awe at the breasts he’s imagined so many times after seeing you in a tiny bikini or a little tank top or all the time, really. He’s frozen, and you can tell he’s nervous, unsure of how far to go.

“Touch me, baby. However you’d like.”

He unexpectedly, but slowly, brings his face into the crook of your neck, kissing at every inch of skin. The feeling of his soft, warm, perfect lips on your skin sends a shiver down your spine, making you let out a desperate noise. He whispers your name in response, barely being able to handle hearing that from you.

You inch backwards and stumble onto his bed as he continues kissing you, and when you're on the edge of the bed, he kisses lower. Once he gets to your breasts, he pulls you closer to himself with his hands behind your back and a gentle pull. His heart is racing and he feels almost dizzy as his lips finally reach your breasts. He kisses between them, pulling back to look at you.

The puppy dog look in his eyes, so full of desire and innocence at the same time, makes your panties dampen more. He caresses your arms, before doing so on your stomach and tracing his fingers up to your breasts, cupping them in his beautiful hands.

"God... you're so beautiful, baby," he whispers, squeezing them, his cheeks flushing a deep red.

Your cunt is throbbing, aching for him, so you hook your fingers under the thin straps of your lacy thong and pull them down to your knees. He gets on his knees in front of you as you sit back down on the edge of the bed. The sight of him on his knees for you, looking as if he's worshipping you, is a sight you want to engrave in your head forever. He just looks so desperate, in love, obsessed.

"Can I.. t-touch..you?" he whispers, nervously, voice slightly shaking. He looks so vulnerable, so eager, that it makes your heart ache with a tenderness that’s just as potent as the lust coursing through you. You nod, your voice a soft, breathy whisper.

"Please, Shane. Need you to touch me," you say, slowly opening your legs for him.

Your permission seems to break a dam inside him. His shaky fingers, so gentle and hesitant, finally make contact with the slick, sensitive skin of your inner thighs. The light touch sends a jolt straight through you, and you let out a soft gasp. He watches your face, his eyes wide, as if memorizing your every reaction. He traces the line of your folds with a single finger, exploring you in a way that makes you feel like something sacred.

"You're so wet," he breathes out, his voice filled with pure awe.

"All for you," you confirm, your voice trembling in pleasure. "I've been waiting for this for so long."

Carefully, he sinks one finger inside you. Your breath hitches, and your back arches slightly off the bed. The sight of this makes his eyes widen even further.

"Fuck," he breathes, gaze fixed on your face. He seems genuinely amazed, as if he can't quite believe he's the one causing this reaction in you.

You answer by rocking your hips against his hand, a silent plea for more. He takes the hint, his confidence growing as he begins to move his finger, slowly at first, then a little faster, curling it just so. He watches, completely mesmerized, as your lips part and a soft moan escapes. He's so focused on your face, on the way your eyes flutter shut and your brow furrows in pleasure, that he looks like he's studying a masterpiece.

"You're so beautiful when you..." he starts, but trails off, adding a second finger. The stretch is exquisite, and you can't stop the desperate noise that tears from your throat. The sound seems to hit him like a physical blow, his cheeks flushing a deep, immediate red.

"Did I.. hurt you?" he asks, instantly stopping, worrying.

"No," you gasp, shaking your head. "God, no. It just feels... so. good."

A wave of relief and something that looks like pride washes over his features. He starts moving again, his thumb finding your clit and circling it experimentally. The dual sensation is electric. Your hips buck uncontrollably, and your fingers tighten in the sheets beside you. He's completely captivated, his own breathing growing ragged and his cock twitching as he watches you fall apart under his touch. He looks utterly flustered, yet completely determined, his earlier shyness replaced by a focused intensity.

He leans in closer, his warm breath fanning over your core. "Can I...?" he whispers, his eyes flicking between your face and where his fingers are buried inside you. "I need to taste you."

You can only manage a nod in response.

Pulling his fingers out, you begin to mourn the loss before he leans in and replaces them with his tongue. The first tentative, soft swipe against your clit makes your whole body arch off the bed with a choked moan. It's everything you've imagined and more. He groans at the taste of you, the sound vibrating against your most sensitive spot and sending waves of pleasure through you. He grows more confident, his tongue moving with more purpose now, licking and exploring with a hungry curiosity, his eyes still flicking up to watch your every shiver and gasp.

"Shane," you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him right where you need him. "Oh, god, don't stop. That feels so fucking good."

His soft whimpers and trembling hands on your hips only add to how explosive the whole thing feels. He sucks your clit into his mouth, a gentle pressure that makes your vision go blurry. Every single movement is driven by a desperate need to please and worship you. Your orgasm crashes over you, powerful and overwhelming. You cry out his name as your thighs tremble and your body convulses, wave after wave of pure ecstasy.

His face is flushed, his lips swollen and glistening with your arousal, and his eyes are dark with a hunger that's far from sated. He looks up at you from his knees, looking utterly wrecked in the most beautiful way.

"Did I... did I do okay?" he asks, his voice raspy and unsure.

You let out a breathless laugh, reaching down to pull him up to you. "Okay? Baby, you were perfect."

Pulling him into a hungry kiss, you taste yourself on him. You stand up, guiding him to stand with you with his face in your hands, turning him around and gently pushing him onto the bed. His hungry groans echo through you as your lips stay together. You want to see him fall apart under your touch, to be the one unraveling him completely.

"My turn," you whisper, straddling his lap. His hands fly to your hips, but they were hesitant, unsure. His heart races and he lets out continuous whimpers at the feeling of your bare core drenching his pants, his cock begging for more. You lean in, capturing his lips in a slow, deep kiss as your fingers travel to the buttons of his shirt. He is still trembling slightly, and you can feel the rapid, uneven beat of his heart against your palms.

You undo the first button, then the second, your lips not leaving his. With each inch of exposed skin, you feel him grow more tense, more shy. He tries to kiss you back, but his focus is somewhere else now. You pull back just enough to look down, finishing unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off his arms.

"Look at you," you murmur, your voice a low purr. You lean down, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to his collarbone. He whimpers, hands tightening on your hips. "So beautiful, Shane."

You kiss your way down his chest, your tongue tracing a line down his sternum. He tastes clean and warm, and the little sounds he was making, the soft gasps and choked breaths, were driving you wild.

"All that confidence on stage.. and look at you now, hmm?" you tease gently, kissing every inch of skin before you. "Now you're so nervous for me.

His blush was magnificent, a deep crimson that spreads down his neck and across his chest.

"Y/n," he breathes, his voice shaky. "I... I don't know what to say or- or do.."

"Then don't do anything," you command softly. "Just let me take care of you."

Your fingers drift to the waistband of his jeans, finding the cool metal of his belt buckle. The sound of it unbuckling is loud in the quiet room, and Shane flinches as if he'd been struck. You slid the leather through the loops, the friction of it making him shudder, and you tossed it aside. He looks utterly wrecked, his head thrown back, his eyes squeezed shut as if he can't handle the sensory overload.

You pop the button of his jeans and slowly pull down the zipper. He lifts his hips instinctively, helping you as you slide his pants down his legs. He is left in just his tight black boxers, the fabric doing little to hide the straining erection beneath. He was so hard it had to be painful, and the sight of him so undone, so vulnerable, made your own arousal spike.

He's shy now, really shy, trying to cover himself with his hands, his face burning with embarrassment. You gently move them away, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

"Don't you dare hide from me," you whisper. You bring your hand to his clothed cock, palming him slowly, firmly. He lets out a broken cry, his hips bucking up into your touch. "God, look at you. You're so hard for me. It's the hottest thing I've ever seen."

"Please," he whimpers, his voice cracking. "Y/n, please..."

"Please what, baby?" you ask, your hand still stroking him through the fabric. "Tell me what you want."

"I... I want..." He couldn't form the words, too lost in the feeling. "I want you."

You smile, a slow, confident smile. You hook your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. "Can I take these off?"

"Y-yes, fuck- yes."

As you pull them down, freeing him, a sudden shift occurs. His eyes fly open, and a wave of insecurity washes over his features. He tries to cover himself again, his face crumpling. Your heart melts at his sudden vulnerability. You look down at him. He's perfect. Thick and long, flushed and curving up towards his stomach, already leaking with pre-cum.

"Oh, Shane," you breathe, your voice full of genuine awe. You gently take him in your hand, and he hisses at the contact. You give him a slow, deliberate pump. "You're so big. So fucking perfect. I knew you would be."

His eyes shoot to yours in disbelief. The praise seems to short-circuit his brain. He's blushing so so hard now, but a small, shy smile plays on his lips.

"R-really?"

"Really," you confirm, leaning down to press a gently kiss to the tip. He cries out, his body tensing. You begin to stroke him, your hand moving in a firm and steady rhythm.

"You're beautiful, Shane. Every inch of you."

Every inch. He feels like he could explode, realization hitting him that you are touching him, feeling him, praising him. You watch his face as you work, the way his mouth falls open, the way his eyes roll back in his head. It is intoxicating. Leaning down, you take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head.

"Fuck! Oh, fuck, y/n!" he shouts, his hands flying to his own hair, his hips thrusting up uncontrollably. You take him deeper, setting a pace that has him writhing and babbling incoherently beneath you. The taste of him, the sounds he's making, it's all just so good. You can feel him getting close now, gripping your hair and his cock twitching in your mouth.

"I'm gonna.. I.. fuck, y/n, I'm gonna cum," he warns, his voice a strained and desperate gasp. He tries to pull back, thinking you'd want him to do so before he finishes, but you don't let him. You just take him deeper, humming around him in encouragement, and that was all it took. "Y/N!"

With this loud, broken cry of your name, he cums hard, his body arching off the bed as he spills into your mouth. You swallow, taking everything he has to give until he was a panting mess beneath you.

You releas him slowly, licking your lips clean as you pull back. He's staring at you, his chest heaving, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and utter shock.

"You... you swallowed," he breathes, his face flushing a deep, immediate red. It wasn't a question, but a statement of pure disbelief.

You just smirk, leaning up and planting a kiss on his forehead. He scoots backward, laying his head on a pillow, and you follow, laying next to him. You drape one leg over his and place your head and a hand on his chest as you get comfortable.

"Every drop," you whisper, nose brushing against his. "Was it good for you, baby?"

He's so flustered, nodding frantically, eyes focused on you.

"Y-yes, so.. so good."

You trace lines on his chest and collarbones as you smile, occasionally meeting his eyes that were not living your face. He is too flustered to speak, eyes still wide and glassy with a mix of exhaustion and a lingering high. Sweat still clings to his skin, making his chest glisten under the dim bedroom lamp, and his breaths came in shallow, uneven puffs. But then you feel it, pressing insistently against the soft flesh of your thigh. His cock, still slick from his earlier release, is already twitching back to life, thickening and hardening with a speed that bordered on obscene. The heat of it radiates through you, sending a fresh wave of desire pooling between your legs.

You prop yourself on an elbow as you rest your head on your hand, look down at his length and smirk, then look back up at him and his gorgeous, shy face. His blush, which you thought had reached its peak, a deep crimson flooding his cheeks, neck, and even the tips of his ears, intensifies somehow. He looks utterly mortified. "Oh my god," he groaned, his voice cracking as he brings both hands over his face, fingers splaying wide as if to block out the world. 

"I'm.. I'm sorry y/n, you're just..so.. a-and this is so..I-I'm sorry," his words tumble out quickly, you giggling quietly at his adorableness.

You gently move his hands away from his face. His eyes meet yours, his pupils full of arousal and embarrassment. You hold his fazwe, refusing to let him hide.

"Don't you dare be sorry for this," you murmur, eyes flicking down to where his cock is now half-erect against his stomach and your thigh. As you look back to his shocked face, a wicked grin spreads on your face.

"That is so fucking hot. Already hard again, God, I love it."

He just stares, lips parted. He expected you to be weirded out, or even grossed out at the fact that he got hard again so quickly to his best friend of a long time. He thought you’d find it strange and just tease him about it, and not in the way he would like. He did not expect you to be so pleased.

“Y-you’re not… freaked out?” he stammers, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Your grin widens, affectionate dominance radiating from every inch of you as you shook your head. "Freaked out? Baby, this has me soaked all over again."

He bites his lip and blushes at your bold statement. You reach down between your bodies, your fingers wrapping firmly around his rapidly swelling cock. He gasps sharply, hips jerking up involuntarily into your grip, his cock now fully hard and scorching hot in your palm.

You stroke him slowly, deliberately, from base to tip, your thumb circling the sensitive underside of the head where a bead of pre-cum was already forming. He twitches under your touch as his body tenses up again, eyes darting between your hand on him and your eyes looking at his dick. Both of those sights could be enough to send him over the edge.

As you stroke him, you start rolling your hips, grinding your pussy against his thigh. Feeling how wet you are, he lets out a moan.

“Mmm, you like that? Feel how wet you make me?”

“F-fuuuck, Y/N,” he says breathily, body trembling under your touch.

“So fucking hot, so perfect. Wanted you for so long, Shane, you have no idea. Wanted to see this pretty cock, want it inside me,” you say in between kisses as you climb up to straddle his hips, kissing his chest, collarbones, neck, any skin you can find.

You sit on him, his cock grazing your ass and your pussy dampening the skin of his stomach.

“My god, y/n,” he whimpers. “Y-you can’t.. say.. that, fuck, you’re making me dizzy.”

“Mm I’ve thought about this so many times. How sexy you’d look being a mess under me while I ride your cock. Can I baby?”

“Fuck, oh my god yes, yes, God yes.”

He’s moving his hands everywhere on the blanket, or on his hair, sometimes shyly on your hips, trying to find anything to help ground himself. The way you’re talking to him, the way you’re being so direct about the way you feel and the things you want- the fact that you feel them and want them in the first place- is driving him insane.

You grab him and run his tip up and down your folds, as if he needed any more teasing. He’s a whimpering mess, a complete wreck under you, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. It's all just so overwhelming, in the best way.

You line him up at your entrance and slowly sink down, gasping at the feeling of his cock stretching out your pussy.  He fills you completely, every ridge and vein dragging against your sensitive spots, and you pause there, grinding down in tiny circles to adjust, feeling him pulse deep within you.

"Oh my God!" he gasps, before letting out a long, beautiful moan that makes you want to ruin him.

You begin to move, setting a slow rhythm, lifting slightly off of him before sinking back down. Each movement pulls more and more whimper from his throat. Your hands stay on his chest, raking them up and down and feeling his perfect body. You lean down, lips brushing on his ear, the hot breath making him shiver.

"You were so sexy on stage tonight," you whisper between pants. "But you're even better like this. All desperate under me, all mine, fuck."

You move a little faster, the bounces up and down causing your clit to slam consistently against him, making the whole experience more sensitive.

His face is a masterpiece of fluster. Brows furrowed, lips pink and swollen, eyes darting between your face, admiring your expressions, and the sight of his cock disappearing into your pussy over and over. Tears of overwhelmed pleasure prickle at the corners of his eyes. He reaches up to cup your face, and pulls you not a messy open mouthed kiss. You pick up the pace, thighs burning as you ride him.

"Fuck, Shane, your cock feels so good inside me."

"O-oh my- fuck, Y/N, you feel so.. so- ah!- good," he whines, hands roaming frantically on your body.

The room is filled with your shared sounds, of his cock plunging in and out of you, your gasps mingling with his moans, and the creak of the bed under every movement. His blush never fades. It instead deepens with every praise, every direct and teasing word.

"C-can't believe... you're doing this.. to me. S-so hot," he pants, voice breaking. "I'm gonna.. gonna cum again."

You smirk and slow just enough to edge him.

"Not yet," you command softly. "Wanna feel you throb inside me longer. You feel so so good, you're doing so well."

His blush reignites again, feeling you clenching around him.

"B-baby, fuck!"

"My baby, you're blushing so pretty while I fuck your pretty cock. Gonna make you cum so hard you forget your own name."

His eyes open at that comment, glassy and unfocused, full of awe and desire, locking onto yours.

"C-cant.. say it like that," he gasps, thighs quivering violently and his abs clenching as he tries to breathe. "You're... gonna make me.. ah, shit- I'm gonna.."

You moan, back arching. "Cum for me, Shane. Inside."

That pushes him over. His hands grip your hips so tightly, his whole body going tense. He dissolves into guttural moans when you pick up speed again. He cries out your name, cock welling inside you, and he erupts. Hot ropes of cum paint your walls, pulse after pulse, so much it leaks out of where the two of you are joined.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck," he pants, hips twitching involuntarily.

The physical sensation of him inside you in addition to the beautiful sounds he's making push you over the edge too.

Your walls clench around him as you moan out his name, him whimpering and groaning from the feeling of you tightening around his sensitive, overstimulated cock.

You ride out the aftershocks together, slowing to lazy grinds. Finally, you collapse forward onto his chest, both of you panting uncontrollably, your skin sticking to his. His arms wrap around you weakly, one hand stroking your back in shaky circles, the other in your hair, and his cock still buried in you. He fills you even when he's soft.

He's quiet for a bit, chest rising and falling under you. You can feel the heat still pouring off his flustered face pressed against your shoulder. You give him a few kisses on his jaw before gently plopping next to him, nuzzling him close.

"Baby that was.. amazing," you tell him, looking at him with so much love in your eyes, and he notices that.

"It.. it was..baby," he says, giggling before saying the word baby, because it's just so perfect and amazing and surreal to be calling you that.

He looks at you with those beautiful, doe-like eyes, still hazy but already clouding again with shyness. His cheeks are still rosy, hair a tousled mess, and lips swollen because of how hard he was kissing you. He looks wrecked in the best way.

He speaks again, his voice small, barely above a whisper.

"I can't believe I came that fast again. You're gonna think I'm some kinda freak," he says, laughing, but you can still see the vulnerability that made your heart twist.

You lift your hand, brushing your thumb over his jaw.

"Think you're a freak? Baby, I think you're perfect. The way you get so hard so quick, the way you blush like that.. it's the hottest thing. Thinking about it makes me wanna pin you down and do it all over again."

His blush explodes, spreading down his neck. He ducks his head, trying to hide in the crook of your neck as his arms tighten around you.

"S-stop," he mumbles, voice muffled and a little whiny, but you can tell there is pleasure in it too. His cock twitches against your thigh again, regardless of the fact that he's soft now. "You're killing me, doing and saying this stuff. How am I supposed to look at you tomorrow without turning into a tomato?"

You chuckle, low and affectionate, shifting slightly so you could nuzzle his ear.

"Tomato looks really cute on you."

He groans, but giggles, throwing his head back and closing his eyes with a smile on his pretty face. It feels so right, being this close to him, so intimately. A few minutes tick by in comfortable silence, feeling like you were about to doze off on him. Eventually, he speaks again.

"Hey... um. Can I ask you something?" He bit his lip, eyes flicking away before forcing them back to yours, vulnerability raw in his expression. You not encouragingly.

“Have you... felt like this the whole time? Like, our whole friendship? The teasing, the... you know, fantasies and stuff. Was it always there? Or is this just... like a one time kind of.. impulsive thing?"

His question hangs in the air as your heart aches at his transparency and pure adorableness. You can see the flicker of insecurity, a fear that this was a one-night thing, that tomorrow you’d just act all friendly and casual again.

You shift up carefully, cupping his face in both hands. You kiss him softly, a slow, deep, kiss pouring reassurance into it until he melted beneath you with a tiny whimper.

“All along, baby. God, yes. Every time we’d hang out or I’d come see one of your shows, I’d go home soaked and touch myself to the thought of doing so many things with you.”

His breath hitches, eyes slightly widening, the blush that had slightly faded during the silence coming back full-force.

“You.. would?”

You giggle, running your hand through his hair gently and gazing at him with nothing but love and adoration.

You pause before you continue describing some things you thought about. It’s so amusing watching his reactions to it, some more teasing can’t hurt.

“So many times we’d be hanging out and I’d just be thinking the whole time about how you’d react if I randomly whispered something dirty in your ear. Or if I joined you when you shower after a show.”

His lips are parted as he listens, eyes darting everywhere on your face in disbelief that you felt like this the whole time too.

“You’d just be sitting there watching a movie or something and I’d think about stripping you naked and sucking you off and feeling you in me. Especially when we’d hug goodbye or something, and I could feel a hard on pressing against me ‘accidentally’, I knew you felt it too.”

He looked like he might spontaneously combust next to you, breathing faster because of how flustered he’s getting. He just stares at you now, no words, making you giggle.

“What?” you chuckle.

“Sorry, sorry I just…,” he begins, snapping back to reality. “I just can’t believe you’ve wanted this. A-and that you.. knew I wanted it.. too. And that we.. just did all of that,” he says, voice getting quieter and shyer with every word.

“Mhm. Bit my tongue for so long cause I didn’t wanna scare you off,” you start, “But theres only so long I could go without doing something about it.”

“I.. felt so guilty the whole time.. cause I didn’t think you wanted this kinda stuff with me when I.. I r-really always did,” he admits.

You smile at him softly, pressing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Now we can make up for all of those nights that we wasted without each other. All those things I thought about that I know you thought about too.”

He blushes more at the fact that you want to do this again and bring all his fantasies to life. He hides in the crook of your neck again, smelling the sweet scent of your skin, pulling you closer to him.

Your naked bodies press against each other, more intimate than you have ever been, and you both fall asleep in the most comfortable state either of you have been in.

[bellabuckley]

ᴅᴇꜱɪʀᴇ ɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɴᴅꜱ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴍʏ ᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛ

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　✭　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　✭　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴊᴏɴᴀᴛʜᴀɴ ʙʏᴇʀꜱ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ: ᴄʜᴏᴋɪɴɢ, ᴘ ɪɴ ᴠ ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ, ꜱᴄʀᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ, ʜɪᴄᴋɪᴇꜱ, ᴄʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴘɪᴇ, ᴍᴀʟᴇ ᴡʜɪᴍᴘᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴍᴀʟᴇ ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ꜱᴜʙᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴘᴏʀɴ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴘʟᴏᴛ. ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴍʏ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ꜰʟᴏᴘᴘᴇᴅ ꜱᴏ ʙᴀᴅ ꜱʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙʀɪɴᴀ ꜰᴏʀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴏɴʟʏ ɴᴏᴛᴇ

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　✭　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　✭　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

The only word to describe Jonathan Byers right now, while he’s shamelessly, relentlessly pumping into you with your legs hooked high over his shoulders, is ruined,

Completely, pathetically, beautifully ruined.

His hair is a dark, sweat-soaked mess, clinging to his flushed cheeks and the nape of his neck. Every few thrusts, his head tips back, throat working on a swallow he can’t finish because another broken whimper claws its way out instead. They’re not quiet anymore. They’re loud, cracked-open sounds that are high and helpless, the kind of noises he’d be mortified by if he weren’t so far gone.

“Shit- oh god..nngh..fuck-” The words tumble out between gasps, barely coherent. His hips snap forward harder, deeper, chasing that slick, molten heat that’s swallowing him whole. The bed creaks under the force of it, headboard knocking the wall in an unsteady rhythm that matches the wet, filthy slap of skin meeting skin.

One of his hands is braced beside your head, knuckles white, forearm trembling. The other slides up your body slow...almost reverent, until those long fingers curl around your throat.

He pauses there for a heartbeat, just feeling. Your pulse hammers against his palm like it’s trying to punch through. His eyes flick to yours, wide and dark and glassy, pupils eating up the hazel until there’s almost nothing left but black. He licks his lips once, unconsciously, then tightens.

Not all at once. Gradual. Controlled. The pressure builds until your next inhale is shallow, sweet, restricted. Your head tips back into the pillow on instinct and Jonathan whines. long, ragged, almost pained, like the simple act of your throat yielding under his hand is the single most erotic thing he’s ever felt.

“You- fuck- you like that?” His voice is wrecked, barely above a whisper, cracking on every other word. “Like when I- when I-” He can’t finish the sentence. Another thrust cuts him off, turns it into a high, needy sound that vibrates through his chest.

He squeezes again. Firmer. Your airway narrows to a thin thread and the world goes soft at the edges, colors brighter, sounds muffled, every nerve ending screaming louder. Your clit throbs in time with your trapped pulse. Your toes curl against his shoulders.

Jonathan’s rhythm stutters. His cock twitches hard inside you, so swollen you can feel the thick ridge of every vein dragging against your walls. He’s shaking. full-body tremors rolling through him like fever. His whimpers pitch higher, more desperate, spilling out in little punched-out bursts every time he bottoms out and grinds.

“Ah-ah..fuck, baby-” He drops his forehead to yours, panting hot and erratic against your mouth. Strands of his hair stick to your damp skin. “Can’t...ah- can’t hold it- need you to...ngh..need you to-”

He tightens his grip again, cutting your air completely this time. Five pounding heartbeats. Six. Your lungs burn, bright and sharp. Your whole body locks down around him, clenching so hard his hips jerk forward involuntarily.

That’s what breaks him.

A long, gutted whimper tears out of his throat. half sob, half moan. His fingers flex, digging in just enough to leave the prettiest ring of bruises. His thrusts turn erratic, sloppy, mean, chasing release like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

“Gonna...shit- gonna come...please...nggh- fuck..look at me-”

Your eyes flutter open through the haze. His are wide, pleading, glistening at the corners. A tear slips free and tracks down his cheek; he doesn’t even notice.

The second your gazes lock he shatters.

His whole body bows, his back arching, thighs quaking, hips grinding so deep you feel him in your stomach. A string of broken, keening whimpers pours out of him as he comes hot, thick pulses that seem to go on forever, filling you until it’s leaking out around his cock with every tiny aftershock thrust.

He doesn’t let go of your throat until the last shudder rips through him.

When his fingers finally loosen, air rushes back in a dizzying flood. You gasp, chest heaving. Jonathan collapses half on top of you, still buried to the hilt, still twitching weakly inside. His face presses into the crook of your neck, lips brushing feverish, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your pulse point, the faint red marks his fingers left behind.

“Fuck… I’m sorry,” he mumbles, voice hoarse and small. “I- got so carried away...did I hurt you?”

You feel him start to pull out, already softening, already panicking in that sweet, earnest Jonathan way.

You lock your ankles behind his back before he can move more than an inch.

“Don’t you dare,” you rasp, throat raw and tender.

He freezes. Blinks. Then a slow, shaky exhale leaves him.

His cock, still half-hard, still sensitive, gives a helpless little twitch inside you at the thought of staying buried.

“…yeah?” he whispers, almost hopeful.

You roll your hips once, slow and deliberate. He chokes on another whimper, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

“Fuck- okay..okay..” His arms slide under you, cradling, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. “Just… just give me a second. Th- then I’ll fuck you again. Slower. Promise.”

But the way he’s already hardening inside you again, the way his breath keeps hitching every time you clench around him, says slow probably isn’t in the cards tonight.

And the way his fingers drift back up to brush feather-light over the marks on your throat says he’s already thinking about doing it all over again.

Deeper.

Harder.

Until neither of you can remember any other word except each other’s names.

[bluesflower]

sooo this may or may not be self indulgent as I can never find any good jonathan fics on here and I was sick this week (thankfully not as bad as it is in the fic!). i'm working on a james series as a continuation to the college au, so here is this until then!!

jonathan byers x reader who is sick and stubborn

cw: fevers, implications of r's neglectful childhood, r is a little insecure/unused to being cared for, angst if you squint, other then that just a bunch of fluff???

Jonathan comes home to find you sleeping on his couch.

The sight makes him do a double take - usually he would pass you by, maybe wonder why you showed up unannounced since you always insist you have to call, but something seems off. Upon a closer look, he sees the problem. You're sick. There's a glossy sheen of sweat coating your brow, you're shivering despite it being 30 degrees outside and you've curled in on yourself specifically over your stomach. Moreover, you hadn't called about your arrival, not even after you got here. You've never done anything like that before, despite having been dating Jonathan for six months now.

Frowning, he sets his camera and bag on the table and walks over to you, crouching down to your level. He puts a hand on your forehead and finds that you're burning up, making him swear, which results in you stirring.

"What-" you blink your eyes open, focusing on Jonathan. Your eyes are blurry and shining with fever. "Jonathan," You croak, which makes his heart crack open. "What... what's going..." You're confused, looking around as if this is the first time you've been in this place.

"You're on my couch, hon. I came home to find you lying here." He explains softly, stroking your hair. You make a low noise as you register what's happening.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry," You push yourself up and Jonathan resists the urge to shove you back down. "I meant to call but I must have fallen asleep. Fuck, baby, I'm so sorry, I-"

"Don't apologise," He soothes, taking your hand now. "I've been telling you for ages that it's okay for you to come here whenever. I'm just concerned 'cos you're burning up." You wrinkle your nose in a way that makes Jonathan's heart flutter.

"Yeah, I realised halfway through my lecture I was practically dying so I left and started driving home - I know, don't give me that look - and by the time I came to this area I didn't trust myself to drive any longer, and yours was the closest place so..." You look at him sheepishly. "I meant to call. I must've fallen asleep,"

"Oh, honey," Jonathan mutters, pressing his lips to the top of your head. "You must be really out of it, you never sleep during the day." You hum in agreement and Jonathan feels you lean against him. He lets you for a few seconds before pulling away to look at you properly. "You hurting anywhere else?" You hum, thinking.

"Um, I think I have a migraine, and other than that I guess I'm just achey all over."

"Alright. You wait here and I'll run you a bath." Jonathan moves to get up but is stopped when you grab his wrist. He is startled, both at the action and the weakness of the grip.

"You don't have to do that, Jon. I just need you to drive me home, I can take care of myself." For a moment, Jonathan can't grasp what you're saying. Then he does, and he shakes his head vehemently.

"No, I'm taking care of you - yes I am - you need help, that's what I'm here for." You frown at him.

"I invaded your house, and-"

"You fell asleep on my couch-"

"Yeah, so I was tired-"

"And sick!"

"- but I can take care of myself when I get home." Jonathan regards you for a moment, shiny eyed and sticky with sweat. Behind the gloss of your eyes, he sees guilt. And then he realises that perhaps you've never been cared for like this before. The stories you've told him about your parents and boyfriends flood back, and his heart breaks for you.

"Honey," He resumes his earlier position, now cupping the back of your neck to bring your forehead to his. "You are so strong, and honestly you could probably take care of yourself. But. I am here to help you. I want to help you. That's what boyfriends do, and I'll be damned if I can't do it. So please," He catches your eyes, staring earnestly at you. "let me help you. I would love to because I love you."

You stare at him for a moment, and he can see the shock in your face. It's quite possible that not much can get through to you in your feverish state, but Jonathan hopes you at least got the general gist.

"Okay." You sigh after a moment. "I'll stay." Jonathan beams and encourages you back into a horizontal position, kissing your shoulder before standing up.

"Thank you, honey. I'm gonna run a bath now. Just... stay there." As he walks away, he sees you smile sleepily at him. Your eyes are drooping.

"I love you, Jonathan Byers." You mumble, and while Jonathan can tell that the words were unintentionally loud due to your fever-induced delirium, his heart swells.

When he comes back, you are sleeping again. He sits by you and holds your hand until the bath almost overflows.

Refreshed from the bath, you have to admit you feel much better when you get out. Jonathan is waiting on his bed (though you let him run you a bath you would not let him stay with you), now dressed in tracksuit pants and a 'The Clash' t-shirt. He also has a bag next to him. When he sees you, his eyes light up.

"Hi, hon," He says, and you marvel at the wonder in his voice for the billionth time - it's as if you've just met and haven't been dating for six months. He stands up and takes your hand, leading you to the bed. You're too tired to protest and let him lay you against the pillows. "I went to the shops and got you a few things." With that, he begins emptying the bag.

"Jon," Your voice is hoarse. "You really didn't have to."

"I know." He says and doesn't elaborate. Instead, he just helps you. You can't follow his movements very closely, everything appearing to you as a blur through your fevered haze. What you do see (and what you will remember of this later) is Jonathan. Jonathan brushing your hair back. Jonathan giving you medicine. Jonathan checking your temperature. Jonathan speaking to you, and though you don't know what he's saying you can hear the kind tones of his words. It makes you think of what he said before: I want to help you. The thought of someone wanting to help you and not just feeling obliged makes you want to cry.

At some point, you don't know when, Jonathan has apparently finished with his caretaking. Your heart drops a little bit when he walks out of the room but then warms when he comes back in, this time climbing into bed with you. To your horror, he wraps his arms around you and presses as close as he can, burying his head in your hair.

"Jon," You roll over awkwardly and place a weak hand on his chest. "Baby, don't. You'll get sick."

"I'll be fine," He says, pulling his head back to look at you. "It might be hard to believe, but I actually have a pretty strong immune system."

"Y'know, it is hard to believe." You grumble. You soften, however, when he kisses your forehead gently.

"If I get sick," He whispers. "I know that you will take care of me, just like I'm doing for you." You hum in agreement, eyes drooping now.

"You know me so well," You mumble. "But you still better not get sick." Jonathan laughs quietly.

"I'll try not to. Now please, get some sleep."

You don't need to be told twice. In fact, it's as if the words hold some sort of power to them, because as soon as they leave his mouth you are falling into a deep, restful sleep. The last thing you feel is a kiss on the shoulder and a whispered:

"I love you too. So much."

[yasministration]

making myself comfortable - jonathan b.

summary: you and jonathan's calm living room cuddling is interrupted by his brother and his undeniably annoying friends. so you take things somewhere a little more private, and somehow jonathan becomes the annoying one. wc: 1.4k+ cw: suggestive themes, jonathan likes tits, groping

The calm evening you and Jonathan had was an absolute miracle. No boys in the house, a clean living room, and most importantly space on the couch for you to cuddle. You sat with your knees to your chest, feet planted on the couch in front of you with Jonathan cuddled by your side, squeezed between you and the back of the couch. His head rested on your shoulder, face snuggled in the crook of your neck, long legs extended on the couch. He hugged your legs, fingers absentmindedly brushing your soft skin with loving strokes.

Jonathan’s eyes kept fluttering shut at the feeling of your fingers in his hair, nails softly massaging his scalp. The television in front of you was muted, but neither of you were watching the moving images on the screen anyway, too busy enjoying each other’s mere presence. Jonathan sighed deeply, and you glanced down at him, a soft smile stretching on your lips when you saw his peaceful face.

But of course, good things never lasted.

The front door slammed open, and four loud figures entered the house, still panting as they loudly conversed, recovering from their bike ride over. You sighed as you watched the four boys throw their backpacks off and onto the floor, already reaching for paper to draw something out — inevitably to do with another theory of theirs. You glanced down at your boyfriend again, laughing quietly at the way his eyes tightly shut in annoyance.

“Can you guys go be loud in Will’s room?” He asked, and the four boys looked over at you boys as if just noticing your presence. Mike’s face twisted in disgust at the sight of you two cuddling, and retorted “You think the four of us are going to fit in Will’s room?”

“If you try hard enough, yeah.” Jonathan groaned, exposing his face from hiding as he sat up a little, his hand gripping the arm of the couch behind you to support his weight. “We were here first anyway.”

“Isn’t the whole point of a living room to welcome all living people?” Sassily asked Lucas. You licked your lips in amusement, watching the argument unfold. Jonathan huffed “Yeah, all living people, which we won’t be if you talk us to death.” Jonathan’s shoulders loosened a little when you returned your hand to his hair, running your fingers through it once. You turned back to the boys, catching Will’s eye. He smiled at you, raising a hand up to wave it at you, and you mimicked his actions with a smile.

“If you’re so annoyed by us, maybe you should be the one to leave.” Said Lucas again, shrugging his shoulders. Dustin rolled his eyes, gesturing to the piece of paper on the coffee table they were surrounding. “We’re doing science here, it shouldn’t matter if it annoys you or not. This is important.”

“Baby, how about we go to your room?” You offered as Jonathan slumped down onto you. You spread your legs open so he could slant his body between them, resting his head on your chest as he hugged your torso. He mumbled something incoherent, and you grinned, suggesting “Or we can go to mine.”

Jonathan lifted his head up, eyes hopeful. “Mhm, smells nice in your room. Your sheets are so soft and your bed is so comfortable.”

“Dude, they’re disgusting, how do you live with them?” Asked Mike loudly, the spot where he sat forcing him a view of the two of you. The three other boys turned to look at you, and Jonathan grinned at you as he lifted his weight off you, ducking his face down to capture your lips in a long kiss. Will smiled despite himself as his friends groaned, knowing exactly what his older brother was doing. Jonathan broke the kiss with a loud smooch, and your giggle filled the air as he instantly went in for another kiss. “Man, come on!” Dustin cried, “We’re trying to focus on science!”

Jonathan pulled away with a wide grin, pulling you off the couch with him. “Come on, let’s leave these nerds to their science.”

You quickly slipped your feet into your shoes, letting Jonathan cross the room to find his car keys. The journey to yours was quick, Jonathan’s hand not leaving your thigh once until he was forced to when he pulled into your drive way. He inhaled deeply when he stepped foot into your room, instantly making way to your well made bed and throwing himself onto it. You giggled as he shuffled on the bed, making himself comfortable. He opened his arms wide for you, but you mumbled “Just a sec”, reaching your hands under the back of your shirt and unclasping your bra.

Your boyfriend’s eyebrows rose slightly in amusement, and you shook your head at him. “Don’t get any ideas, I’m just making myself comfortable.” Jonathan watched attentively as you slid the straps down each arm before finally pulling your bra out from underneath your shirt. He swallowed thickly, eyes immediately dipping down to stare at your nipples, constraining against the tight fabric of your shirt. “Jonathan,” You warned, “No ideas.”

“No ideas.” He echoed, licking his lips as you approached him. You laughed in disbelief as you laid down on the bed facing him. “Jonathan.”

“They looked at me first!” He cried, whining when you shimmied around to face away from him. “Baby, that’s not fair. Want to see your beautiful face.”

“Want to see my beautiful face so you can stare at my tits?” You asked, biting on your bottom lip when Jonathan pressed his front to your back, arm snaking around your front to secure you there. “How about we go back to how we were sat at mine?” He suggested pleadingly, kissing your jaw softly. “Are you going to pull any stunts?” Jonathan shook his head eagerly, smiling when you sat up.

“Alright,” Jonathan scrambled up at your confirmation, freezing when you held a finger up. “Go get me one of your hoodies.” He nodded quickly, pecking your lips before jumping off your bed. He opened your closet, eyes widening at the sight of his hoodies hung up in your closet. He knew you had one or two, but this? No wonder he can never find any of them to wear. He sorted through the hoodies, humming when he spotted his favourite, taking it out by the hanger. Once he stood in front of your bed again, he held out the hoodie, eyes going wide when you gripped the hem of your top, pulling it over your head. You reached for the hoodie, but suddenly Jonathan snatched it back. You scoffed in surprise at your boyfriend’s audacity, looking up at his face to find him looking just as surprised as you.

“Jonathan.” You warned again, holding your shirt to your chest, however you were unable to help yourself from laughing when Jonathan dropped the hoodie to the floor, climbing back onto the bed. His hands pressed into the mattress on either side of you, and he leaned over you to press a kiss to your neck. “I don’t pull stunts,” Jonathan insisted, his hand coming down to pull your shirt away from your chest.

“No?”

“No, the stunts pull me.”

Jonathan smiled against the skin of your neck when you laughed softly, letting his kisses trail downwards until he could finally take one of your nipples in his mouth. He glanced up at you, sucking harder on your nipple when he found you staring down at him unimpressed. His second hand came up to pinch your nipple, and he chuckled softly when your body jerked, a hand coming up to his hair.

“Not trying anything.” Jonathan mumbled, biting down on the flesh of your breast. “Just doing this.”

“Because this isn’t trying anything?” You questioned, glancing down at where Jonathan toyed with one of your nipples. He shook his head, lips coming back up to the side of your neck. “No.”

You let out a breathy moan when he nibbled on your neck, cold hands groping your breasts. You held him close to you, arms slung over his shoulders as he played with you. Though his body was in the way, you desperately wanted to rub your thighs together, feeling your panties get wet. “Well you might want to try something,” You started, pausing when Jonathan lifted his head up to make eye contact with you. “I need you so bad Jonathan.” A smile spread on Jonathan’s face and his eyes lit up as you pulled him into a passionate kiss.

But even with his tongue in your mouth, Jonathan couldn’t help but pull away slightly and joke “I don’t know, I’m just making myself comfortable.”

taglist: @bxuzi, @rory-cakes, @dlljdhsh, @aouoo, @fandomhoe101, @sharkers00, @joonbread, @paankhaleyaaar, @bearymuchso, @princesstiti14, @challengers4ev, @selenewowww, @lunavelha, @iceyyhyeji, @doiki3, @maymo0, @daisylove3, @ballylagginblues, @cosm1cpiink, @laufeysvalentine, @eyantice, @cheetoscmj, @l0vesreceipt

[shawtylana]

Que sabor

[sublime-youth-deactivated202604]

Guys never stop writing Jonathan x reader fics cause wow

[eiightysixbaby]

when the van’s a-rockin’…

jonathan byers x fem!reader

1.9k

when jonathan’s car is in the shop, argyle lets him borrow his van for a date night with you. fun ensues ;)

18+ only! unprotected piv, creampie, oral (f receiving), cum eating, hickeys, jonathan spanks you one singular time

Jonathan’s car being in the shop for a week wasn’t all bad.

Sure, you felt a little silly when he picked you up for your date night in Argyle’s bright yellow Surfer Boy Pizza van, but it was better than not having a date night at all. And sure, you felt wildly out of place pulling up to the nice restaurant of choice in that, but who really cares what anyone else thinks, anyways? And yes, okay, there was something on the back of it that wouldn’t stop rattling as you drove down the California streets, but… Jonathan’s car had been far worse before he took it in to get looked at.

So really, what could you complain about?

Right now, you’re seriously reconsidering ever even being apprehensive, because really you should be grateful. Grateful that Argyle was kind enough to bless you with means of transport. With a large vehicle like this one comes a vast empty space behind the two seats up front. And what a shame it would be to let all that space go to waste. You certainly weren’t going to allow that to happen.

Parked off of some dirt road, Jonathan lays on the pile of blankets covering the floor of the van, naked from the waist down. His white t-shirt rides up on his tummy, exposing the trail of hair that extends beneath his belly button. His button-up is undone, the patterned fabric splayed out at his sides as his hands take a firm hold on your hips.

The tail end of what had been a perfectly-rolled joint sits neglected in the cup holder, the windows just a little bit foggy from the smoking sesh he’d partaken in shortly before.

Fully seated on his glorious seven inches, you let your hips roll slowly. You can feel him pressing deep within you, hitting different spots as the angle changes with your movements. Fed up with your pace, he lifts your weight as he starts to bounce you on him, encouraging you to move faster. You take the hint, take it gladly, letting yourself rise and fall on his cock more quickly.

The sound of your skin colliding with his creates a rhythmic slapping, loud enough to make you shy away if only he didn’t feel so damn good.

“Fuck, baby—” Jonathan curses, lifting his head just slightly to shake his bangs out of his eyes.

You simply hum a noise of approval in response, continuing your quick bouncing movements. One of his hands reaches around to squeeze the doughy flesh of your ass, only to let go and deliver a swift smack to the area right after. You moan, a short and staccato’d sound, always loving when he gets a little rough with you.

The contours of Jonathan’s face are highlighted with the glow from the setting west coast sun, and you can’t see it but wow; the light is making you look divine, too, where you’re perched on top of him. Pleased noises crawl their way out of your throat as he bucks his hips harder up into your wet heat, and he thinks he’d like to record those sounds and play them back on a cassette tape over and over. The soundtrack to his fucking life.

“Feel good, baby?” he asks you sweetly, with just a hint of cockiness shining through. It’s not often he isn’t bashful and humble, but he’s not ignorant to when he’s making you feel phenomenal.

“Yeah,” you sigh, squeaking slightly when the pad of his right thumb circles over your clit. “So good, Jon. Always so good.”

You can feel the slide of his cock, warm and heavy as it pushes in and pulls back out. It almost feels like everything’s happening in slow motion, your senses heightened, feeling every bit of him. You’re lost in the bliss, your bouncing slowing to a halt in your hazy headspace, leaving him to do all of the work.

A particularly harsh thrust from him sends you plummeting back to earth, a hot exhale leaving your lips as his cock shoves the air from your lungs. He might as well be in your guts, making a home for himself there. You’d let him stay forever, that’s for certain.

He doesn’t mind doing the work for you, his left hand gripping you tight while he continues to tease your clit with the other. The van teeters with the force of his movements; any potential onlooker would definitely piece together what’s happening inside in approximately 2 seconds. The windows only get foggier, the humidity in the vehicle rising from your shared body heat and huffed breaths.

He pants, grunts leaving his mouth as he fucks into you faster, faster, faster. You hold desperately onto his sides, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt as he jostles you with each buck of his hips.

“Shit—” he whimpers, pinching his eyes shut for a brief moment as his head tips further back, chin raised to the ceiling. “You’re so fucking tight, squeezing me so good,” he says, voice strangled as it leaves him.

It’s truly taking everything in him not to blow his load this second, wanting you to finish first, always.

You’re absolutely soaked; if you couldn’t feel it you can certainly hear it. The slippery, sloppy sounds that create a symphony as they bounce off of the metal walls. It’s making his movements so easy, so smooth, your cream completely coating his cock. You watch in awe as his brows wrinkle together, cursing loudly, his eyes filled with sheer desire as he keeps them steady on you.

You can’t help yourself; leaning down to let your mouth latch onto his neck. Kissing the soft spot that you know drives him crazy before the kiss turns into more of a bitey thing, sucking a red bruise into his skin.

He whines, breathing heavy. “Fuuuuuck,” he groans, his thrusts growing sloppier.

Fingers hooking under the collar of his shirt, you tug it down to expose more of his skin to you, using it as your canvas. You leave more marks, purple and red and passionate, littered in various places.

“Baby, shit, I’m not gonna fucking last,” he rasps urgently; a final warning.

Lucky for him, he brings you to your peak with perfect timing, his finger on your clit working a steady pace until the coil in your stomach snaps.

“Jonathan!” you moan, louder than you’d intended, nearly a scream for him as you come completely undone on his cock. You feel him hold out for a few more quick thrusts before he’s spilling all he has for you; filling you with warm, thick spurts of his cum.

Your chest heaves as you take steadying breaths, coming down from your high in unison with him. His hair sticks slightly to his forehead with a thin layer of sweat, and you can feel moisture on your own skin beneath your shirt. His hand cups your face, encouraging you to lean down, into his eager mouth that kisses you with fervor. He pulls away, brushing hair out of your face before pressing his lips to your forehead.

Pulling off of him, you wince, feeling the sticky wet mixture of your arousal and his drip down your inner thighs. You glance down, looking at the mess you’d made of Jonathan’s now softening cock.

“Fuck…” he mutters, eyes glazed over as he watches his cum drip from you. “Come here, I need to taste you,” he nearly whines, grabbing hold of your waist and encouraging you upwards.

Desperate hands grip your thighs that straddle his head, his pupils dilated as he gets an up-close view of your wrecked cunt. Before you can say a word, he’s diving in to get a taste, mouth eagerly lapping up the mess you’d both contributed to.

“Jon— oh,” you breathe, gripping onto the seat in front of you to keep yourself stable.

You can feel his tongue swiping up into your wet walls, filthy noises coming from the way he absolutely devours you. His nose brushes against your clit, nudging it with just enough friction to drive you up the wall. His usually gentle fingers press so hard into the meat of your thighs you wouldn’t be surprised if they bruised, keeping you locked in place right where he needs you.

The way his tongue roams eagerly resembles a man consuming his first meal in days. Eating you out like a man completely starved, licking at your folds like he’d never get a taste again. His eyes are closed, focused solely on the flavor between your thighs — the saltiness of him and the sweetness of you combining into one.

He comes up briefly for air, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “I’m gonna cum inside you more often,” he declares — promises, really. “Cause I like cleaning up my messes,” he says, honey eyes looking all-too-innocently up into your own as he resumes his meal.

“Christ, Jonathan, you can’t just say things like that,” you insist, but your voice comes out breathy and holds no hint of a scolding tone. You hope he holds true to his statement, because you’d let him do this any time he wanted.

Your eyes squeeze shut, legs trembling as you keep yourself propped up on them. His soft lips suck on your clit, the lewd noises of the action sending you closer and closer to your second orgasm of the evening.

“Don’t — don’t fucking stop,” you choke out as his tongue flits rapidly over the sensitive bud. He shakes his head back and forth, nearly rabid the way he pleases you.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he mumbles into your core, resuming the work of his tongue as soon as the words are out.

You’ve gotta be absolutely drenching his face; surely he must be covered in the slippery wet mess that leaks from you, and the thought of it makes your skin flush hot. You’re teetering right on the edge of release, beginning to grind your hips down against his mouth in complete and shameless greed.

He can hear the way your moans get breathier, higher in pitch, and he knows you’re about to finish.

“Cum for me, baby,” he urges, muffled by your pussy, sucking on your clit once more before you’re tipping over your edge.

Your whole body shakes above him; taking loud, gasping breaths as his tongue works you through the pleasure. He’s groaning into your core, kissing and licking and sucking everywhere his mouth can reach. It’s downright filthy, nasty, scandalous the way he can’t get enough.

Before long it becomes overwhelming, your body too sensitive, and you start to squirm in his grip before he lets you go. His eyes watch you, entranced with you as he quickly hikes his boxers back up his legs, concealing his cock that’s hard once again. You move to sit beside him, letting him pull you down for a messy kiss that’s all tongue and lips mouthing at one another. Tasting yourself on him makes your head spin, your tongue exploring his mouth to get more of it.

Finally pulling away, his hand cradles the back of your head as your foreheads rest against each other.

“Hey, Jon?” you say, pulling back enough to fully look at him.

“Yeah?” he asks, smiling softly at you as he wipes his face clean.

“Make sure to really thank Argyle for letting us borrow his van.”

He laughs, breathy and boyish before he starts to lean in for another kiss. “I will.”

[eiightysixbaby]

right here, right now

pairing: jonathan byers x fem!reader

wc: 2.1k

summary: it's almost time to try and save the world, again. but before you do, you and jonathan have something to take care of.

cw: 18+ ONLY - SMUT some angst, unprotected piv, creampie, use of pet names

author’s note: aahhhh, nothing like some ‘i need to have you right now because the world might end and idk if i’ll ever get to have you again’ smut

You aren't really sure how long it had been. You aren't sure how long it would be, until Nancy patched through on the walkie talkies to give you the all clear to join the others or until something killed you, whichever came first.

You sit in the back seat of Steve's BMW, clenching and unclenching your fist around your baseball bat to ease your nerves. You're parked off the side of the road, close but not too close to the most recent gate that had opened up in Hawkins. Steve, Nancy, Eddie, and Robin had gone through, preparing to enact the first phase of the plan. You'd spent the last couple of days preparing, giving yourselves until the last possible moment to ensure everything was perfect. To ensure that you could seal up the contents of the Upside Down forever - lock them away, never to seep into your reality ever again.

But now, as you sit trembling on the leather bench seat, the details don't matter. What does matter, a fact gone unspoken but known by each of you equally, is that this is your last chance. If you fail this time - and the possibility of that is very real - it will cost you your lives. It will cost the lives of everyone in this town; Hawkins will fall.

Jonathan's breathing is staggered beside you, his body shuddering with each exhale. He's trying not to panic for your sake, but you know he's fearing for you and for Will, for his mom, for himself. For everyone.

The world is dark around you, nightfall having hit what feels like eons ago. Your teeth chatter although it isn't cold, and you startle momentarily when you feel Jonathan's hand come to rest on your thigh.

"Hey," he says softly, bringing your focus onto him and only him. "It's gonna be okay, yeah? We're going to get through this."

You're silent for a moment. "What if we don't this time, Jon?" You can barely look at him as you say the words, because you fear you'll burst into tears if you meet those soft honey eyes.

He can see your sturdy resolve beginning to crumble, and he drops his weapon and pulls you into his chest, pressing his lips to the top of your head. "Don't think like that, okay? We're going to do this, we have to do this."

You know that he's saying this to convince the both of you, you know he doesn't fully believe it himself, but you appreciate the reassurance regardless. You bury your face further into the soft fabric of his shirt, taking a long, deep inhale. He smells as he always has, like laundry detergent and his cologne and a faint hint of coffee.

You don't want to think about the fact that this could be the last time you get to smell his smell.

Before you can stop them, a few stray tears escape your eyes, rolling down your cheeks. You sniffle quietly, trying to collect yourself once more, but Jonathan's already alert to your upset.

"Hey, hey," he soothes, tilting your chin up with a gentle finger. "Baby, I'm here with you. I'm here."

You don't want to say what you're thinking - But what if you aren't always here? What if this is the last moment we have together? - and so you say nothing. Your lip wobbles as you take a shaky breath, more tears rolling warm and heavy down your skin.

Jonathan is quick to wipe them away, the pad of his thumbs so soft as they rid your face of the saltwater streaks.

"I'm so scared," is all you can say before he's hugging you tight against him once more, his grip on you firm and comforting.

"I know, I know," he rocks you back and forth, kissing your forehead. "Me too."

You pull back suddenly, feeling the need to look him in his eyes. "I love you so much, more than I've ever loved anything in my life."

"More than you love birthday cake milkshakes from Benny's?" he jokes, the left corner of his mouth tugging upward in a slight smirk.

You laugh, a watery sound through your ebbing tears. "Oh, on second thought, never mind..."

He joins in on your laughter, and for a moment everything is normal. For a moment you're on the couch in his living room and Joyce is making cookies in the kitchen, and you aren't about to fight monsters and try to save the world, again. You appreciate his willingness to try and make you smile, even in the bad moments.

"I love you too, you know that. I always will." he returns your sentiment once your giggles have subsided, cupping your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours.

You kiss him back eagerly, his mouth a welcome reprieve from the constant terror your life has been lately.

You can't quite pinpoint the moment it goes from sweet and tender to needy and hot, but it happens quickly. One moment his lips move slowly against yours, his hands soft on your cheeks, and the next his tongue is prying into your mouth and your hands are tangled in his hair and tugging. You're pulling yourself onto his lap, knees bracketing his hips, both of you breathing heavily.

He pulls away only for a moment, his eyes searching your face. "You really want to do this right now?" he checks, waiting for your permission.

You nod quickly. "Yes, right now." There's a pause, and then. "I don't know when we'll get to do this again."

It's a devastating statement if you really think about it, but neither of you are planning on thinking too hard. He doesn't dwell on the undertones of it, instead he lets his hunger take over.

You thought you'd been desperate to have him before, like that time after he was sick for two straight weeks and you couldn't see him, or when you'd teased him so bad beneath your lunch table senior year that he'd dragged you into the janitor's closet and made you late for the next class. But this? This was new, this rivaled every time before it. You were primal, animalistic in the way you licked into each other's open mouths, determined in the way you undid his belt and pushed his jeans down his thighs.

It was a desperation that could only come from such a dire sense of urgency - the end of the world wasn't necessarily far away, after all.

He wastes no time helping you shed your pants, both of you knowing that this isn't the time for drawn-out foreplay or extensive teasing - you never know when Nancy's voice might sound over the walkie.

Good thing for him, you're already soaking through your panties, the severity of the situation only turning you on further in some sick, twisted way. You need to have him, there's no questioning it.

You let out a harsh whine when his lips latch onto your neck, sucking hard on the tender skin, his hands gripping your hips with a ferocity you've never felt from him before. He guides you over his cock, letting his shaft slide through your folds, your juices coating him. He hisses at the sensation, his cheeks flushing a deep pink that you can decipher even in the low lighting.

"Shit, baby," he rasps, letting his head fall back against the seat.

You give him a sly little smirk. "Am I losing ya already?" you tease, satisfied when he rolls his eyes.

"No," he says, and before you can process it he's completely flipped your position; you now lying down along the cool leather seat, his body hovering over yours. "Definitely not."

Your lips part in an attempt to say something, but no words can come out before he's kissing you once more. Your legs fall open easily, allowing him space to fully slot himself between them. He lets out strained whimpers when he licks into your eager mouth, your hands splayed across his back, nails digging into the skin through his shirt.

"Baby," you pant. "I can't wait any longer, I need you," your voice is breathy, impatient.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he murmurs against your cheek. "I'm gonna take care of you."

In seconds he's got his hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, slowly guiding the tip into your weeping entrance. You gasp at the initial intrusion, the sound turning into something closer to a scream the more of him you take.

"Jonathan, Jonathan," you mumble mindlessly, drunk on his cock and he's only been inside of you for thirty seconds. In normal circumstances he may have teased you, made your face flush with heat as he taunted your desperation. But these aren't normal circumstances, and he's just as needy as you are.

"I know, angel, I know," he murmurs. "Feels so good, huh?"

You nod, pressing sloppy kisses to his lips as he starts to move inside of you. The drag of his length out and in and then out again has you nearly delirious, bringing every inch of your body to life, as if you're a live wire.

"Fuck, fuckfuckfuck," he curses, picking up his pace rapidly.

The car fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, heavy breaths and moans and sighs. You're able to almost forget, like this. With his weight on top of you and his cock hitting the perfect spot inside, you can almost pretend like you don't have a baseball bat and an axe sitting on the floor of the vehicle, signifiers of your impending battle. You try to ignore the way the street lights flicker outside, something you know to be a sign of more than just faulty bulbs.

His teeth nip at your earlobe, a weakness of yours, and you know that he's seen the flickering too. It's his silent way of trying to distract you as best he can. Paired with the relentless way in which he pounds into you, it works, your brain nearly shutting off as you zone in on his grunts and whines.

"I love you," he pants. "So fucking much."

He tugs your bottom lip between his teeth, and only when he lets go do you reply. "I love you, fuck I love you. Feels so good, Jon."

He chuckles lightly at this, satisfied with his ability to bring you such pleasure. "You feel good, too. You have no fucking idea," he praises, resting his forehead against yours as he maintains his steady pace.

There's something in your gut that tells you you don't have much time before your friends will page you, and as if reading your mind, Jonathan's right hand finds its way between your thighs. The pad of his thumb begins to rub quick circles over your clit, your breathing growing heavier. You feel electric beneath his touch, succumbing entirely to how good he’s making you feel.

"You gonna be a good girl and cum for me, angel?" he asks, knowing if he keeps up his actions, you'll be hurtling over the edge in no time.

"Yes!" you cry, "Yes Jonathan, fuck. I want to be a good girl, wanna cum for you."

He dips his head low, his mouth against the shell of your ear. "So do it, then," he instructs, his voice deliciously husky, his tone commanding.

It's all you need to fully reach your breaking point, and your legs shake as you cum around his cock. His name spills from your lips in a shattered cry, back arching off of the seat beneath you. Your orgasm seems to last forever, your walls squeezing him tight until he's spilling inside of you, moaning your name followed by a string of curses. He collapses on top of you, and it's so comforting to feel the weight of him. To feel and hear him breathing.

The euphoric haze you’d been caught up in, the primal urge that had taken control of you starts to fade. You don’t want reality to set in, you want to fend it off for as long as possible, but it’s too late. Fear creeps its way back into your throat, and you cling tighter to Jonathan.

He senses your unease and you know he’s feeling it again, too. So when he speaks, his voice slightly hoarse from use, you’re expecting him to say something serious. “Do you think Steve will be mad we fucked in his car?"

You snort, genuinely caught off guard by the lighthearted question. "Let's save the world first, and then we can decide if we're even gonna tell him."

Jonathan laughs, and the sound tugs at your heart strings. It's one of your favorite sounds, and you only hope you get to hear it for years to come.

You kiss him, slow and passionate before deciding you need to redress. You prepare your backpack of necessary tools, you hold his hand as you wait for Nancy's signal.

And with ever perfect timing, her voice comes through the static.

One squeeze of your hand. Two. Three.

I. Love. You.

[angeliccwrites]

୨ৎ Jonathan Byers x Reader ୨ৎ

__________________________________________

— 𝒯itle; Cola.

— 𝒮hipp; Jonathan Byers x Reader

— Context; Jonathan invites you to a film's night in his house, but you get a little too bored.

— ℱandom; Stranger Things

♡!! warnings: sex (!p in !v), licking breasts, unprotected sex (reader takes birth control), kisses, lovebirds, and others.

__________________________________________

ps: who needs Steve when you have Jonathan? (jk I want them both.)

enjoy!! 𐙚

YOU FIXED YOUR HAIR IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR FOR THE THOUSANDTH TIME THAT NIGHT.

You smoothed your skirt with sweaty hands and did a nervous little twirl – everything seemed fine.

Even so, you let out an anxious sigh. Jonathan, your boyfriend, had invited you to watch some old movies with him that night, since Joyce was going to work late and Will was going to play a long round of D&D with his friends. "It's nothing much" He said, as awkwardly as ever, but you could feel the nervousness and anticipation radiating from him after asking.

It wasn't anything special, but just in case, you decided to dress up a little more for the occasion. And just out of habit, you applied another layer of the pink strawberry gloss to your lips, in case he kissed you.

Looking at yourself in the mirror one last time, you heard his car horn honking outside. Saying a quick goodbye to your mother, you ran to meet him.

You felt yourself blush at the shy but admiring smile he gave you when you got into the car.

He approached, first kissing your forehead, and then leaving a chaste, but passionate kiss on your pink lips.

"You look beautiful. I mean, you always look beautiful..." He complimented awkwardly, making you giggle softly. "Thank you, Jon" You replied, kissing him again.

The kiss lasted a few seconds longer, but you soon separated due to lack of air. "Shall we go?" He asked, starting the car as soon as he saw your confident nod.

────────────── ୨ৎ ──────────────

THE BLACK AND WHITE FILM PLAYED SOFTLY ON THE OLD TELEVISION IN THE BYERS RESIDENCE.

Jonathan and you watched intently, even though you were bored.

When Jonathan invited you, you thought the movie night would quickly escalate into a make-out session, since you were alone and both young and with raging hormones. How silly of you.

Jonathan Byers was known for his shyness. – But with the right encouragement, he would soon loosen up.

You needed to encourage him.

That's why you gave a final drank to the Coca-Cola you were drinking and, unintentionally — or intentionally — tilted the bottle just enough for the dark liquid to spill onto your cream-colored cotton sweater, right on top of your breasts.

"Damn it!" You cursed, quickly getting up from the sofa and feigning your best sad pout. Jonathan looked at you worriedly, not knowing how to help. "Take that off, I'll get you one of my t-shirts, okay? Just wait a second." He said quickly, giving you one last look before practically running off to the bedroom.

So nice... You almost felt sorry for deceiving him. Almost.

Biting your lip to suppress a smile of excitement, you quickly removed the wet sweater and the thin tank top you were wearing underneath, leaving you only with the light lace bra.

"Look, it's going to be a little big, but I think..." Your boyfriend's voice gradually faded as he entered the room and saw you in just your bra, looking at him innocently.

Instinctively, he turned his back, making you chuckle softly. You could hardly wait for his shyness to finally vanish. "Sorry," He said softly, still with his back to you.

You walked slowly toward him, making him stiffen at the sound of your approaching footsteps. As you drew near, you pressed your semi-bare chest against his back, making him shudder at the warmth of your body.

You rested your head on his shoulder, smiling at his reaction. You reached out, gently taking the old band t-shirt from his hands. "Thank you, baby" You said.

He didn't answer, but nodded. As he started to move to leave the room, you called out to him, "Jon..."

He swallowed hard, trying to ignore what Your sweet voice was doing to him. "Y-yes?" He replied, trying and failing not to sound so nervous. "You can turn around," You said, throwing the shirt on the sofa. You wouldn't need it for now.

He closed his eyes tightly, trying somehow to stay in control, to ignore the desire. – He couldn't. When he realized it, he was already slowly turning around. His frantic eyes scanned every part of you, trying to memorize the image of you in your skirt and bra, your bust wet, staring at him with a smile he swore was devilishly irresistible.

You bit your lip at his reaction, feeling your body heat up under his gaze. Just a little more... Push him just a little more...

"I think I'll have to take this bra off too" You said, feigning innocence. His eyes widened, like those of a threatened rabbit, and you felt your pussy drip with desire for him.

"T-the bra?" He asked softly, almost as if he were talking to himself. You nodded, gazing longingly at the bulge forming in his pants. "Yes, Jon, it's ruined," You began, pulling the straps off your shoulders. He groaned, taking an unconscious step forward, as if his body no longer obeyed him.

"It's all wet, look. It'll probably stain." You did your best to sigh sadly with an pout. Wow, what an actress. You turned your back to him, glancing quickly over your shoulder. "Baby, can you unbutton it?" You asked softly, giving him puppy eyes.

He hesitated, trying to control himself. "Honey, I-I think it's better if we don't..." He stammered to you, red as a tomato. You could tell he was nervous, but the large erection hidden behind his jeans told you not to stop.

"Jonathan, unhook my bra." You repeated gently, and he, as if hypnotized, took long strides toward you, his trembling hands reaching for the buttons of your underwear.

His cold hands against your warm back sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. He unfastened the clasp, but didn't move away. Gently, he pulled the garment from your arms, dropping it to the floor with a soft thud.

You turned to him, having to lift your head to look him in the eyes. He didn't return your gaze immediately. His puppy-dog eyes stared with pure fire at your erect nipples. You swore you heard him groan.

You pressed your body against his, resting your hands on his chest, and his large hands immediately found their way to your waist. "Jon..." You whispered, silently pleading. "Are you sure?" He asked, breathless. You nodded confidently, and the next thing you knew, his lips crashed against yours in a desperate kiss.

His arms wrapped around your body, pulling you even closer, as if he wanted to merge with you. His tongue fought against yours for space, and his erection nudged your stomach, making you moan.

He broke off the kiss too soon, making you groan. He silenced you with a shy smile, and like a possessed man, attacked your breasts with kisses and licks.

You moaned, your hands flying to his hair, gripping it. He slowly trailed kisses down, reaching your full breasts. He kissed both before beginning to attack your right nipple.

He sucked, licked, and nibbled, and when he was satisfied, he moved his attack to your left breast.

All you could do was groan and moan, rubbing your legs together desperately for some kind of relief.

You needed him.

"Jon..." He released your breast with a snap and looked at you. He looked divine with his disheveled hair, dark eyes filled with desire, and red lips swollen from teasing your breasts. "I want you." You whispered, bringing your hand to his erection. He groaned desperately at your touch, unconsciously moving his hips against you.

You moved away from him enough to remove your skirt and panties, leaving you only in your long white knee-high stockings. He had also taken off his clothes, knowing full well that none of you wanted foreplay today.

"Bedroom or here?" He asked in a deep voice full of desire, and you bit your lip, wanting nothing more than to attack him right there.

"Here..." You replied, walking over to him. You kissed his swollen lips, making him groan needily, and gently pushed him so he sat down on the sofa.

You looked at his hard cock, feeling your mouth water. The red tip dripped with precum, and you felt the urge to lick it all up until there wasn't a single drop left.

With gentle grace, you sat on his lap, and his hands immediately grabbed you hungrily. You held his warm member with one hand, rubbing the swollen head against your clitoris. Your excitement soaked him completely, and when you felt satisfied, you carefully sank all the way in.

You both groaned loudly at the wonderful sensation, and Jonathan buried his face in your chest. You gently stroked his hair and began to move.

The wet sound of both of you filled the entire room.

You increased the speed, feeling every vein inside you, every pulse. Jonathan squeezed your hip with his large hands, and you almost went into ecstasy thinking about the marks they would leave.

"Jonathan..." You moaned softly. He grunted, lifting his hips slightly, and began thrusting forcefully against you. The new speed made you cry out, and he kissed you to muffle your screams.

You felt the familiar warmth near, and you tightened your walls to warn him. He knew, of course he knew, he knew you like the back of his hand. He then moved his hand to your clitoris, teasing it in the way he knew you liked.

When he felt he was close enough, he placed another kiss on your full lips and looked into your eyes. "I love you..." He whispered, and with that, you both reached the climax. His semen filled you, and you felt pleasantly full.

He rested his head against the back of the sofa, tired but completely satisfied, and you left a little kiss on his chest. He looked at you, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. You kissed his hand and whispered, "I love you too, Jon."

You two laughed at absolutely nothing, intoxicated by pleasure. The movie was still playing on the TV, but neither of you cared.

He hugged you gently, stroking your back. "So... did you like the movie?" He asked with a smile, making you giggle.

You agreed, giving him another kiss on the lips, and replied, "I loved it. How about we do it again next week?"

hum, hi Jonathan 😝

ps: I apologize for any mistake, english is not my first language, and I use Google Translate.

xoxo <3

[angeliccwrites]

୨ৎ Jonathan Byers x Reader ୨ৎ

__________________________________________

— 𝒯itle; Cola.

— 𝒮hipp; Jonathan Byers x Reader

— Context; Jonathan invites you to a film's night in his house, but you get a little too bored.

— ℱandom; Stranger Things

♡!! warnings: sex (!p in !v), licking breasts, unprotected sex (reader takes birth control), kisses, lovebirds, and others.

__________________________________________

ps: who needs Steve when you have Jonathan? (jk I want them both.)

enjoy!! 𐙚

YOU FIXED YOUR HAIR IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR FOR THE THOUSANDTH TIME THAT NIGHT.

You smoothed your skirt with sweaty hands and did a nervous little twirl – everything seemed fine.

Even so, you let out an anxious sigh. Jonathan, your boyfriend, had invited you to watch some old movies with him that night, since Joyce was going to work late and Will was going to play a long round of D&D with his friends. "It's nothing much" He said, as awkwardly as ever, but you could feel the nervousness and anticipation radiating from him after asking.

It wasn't anything special, but just in case, you decided to dress up a little more for the occasion. And just out of habit, you applied another layer of the pink strawberry gloss to your lips, in case he kissed you.

Looking at yourself in the mirror one last time, you heard his car horn honking outside. Saying a quick goodbye to your mother, you ran to meet him.

You felt yourself blush at the shy but admiring smile he gave you when you got into the car.

He approached, first kissing your forehead, and then leaving a chaste, but passionate kiss on your pink lips.

"You look beautiful. I mean, you always look beautiful..." He complimented awkwardly, making you giggle softly. "Thank you, Jon" You replied, kissing him again.

The kiss lasted a few seconds longer, but you soon separated due to lack of air. "Shall we go?" He asked, starting the car as soon as he saw your confident nod.

────────────── ୨ৎ ──────────────

THE BLACK AND WHITE FILM PLAYED SOFTLY ON THE OLD TELEVISION IN THE BYERS RESIDENCE.

Jonathan and you watched intently, even though you were bored.

When Jonathan invited you, you thought the movie night would quickly escalate into a make-out session, since you were alone and both young and with raging hormones. How silly of you.

Jonathan Byers was known for his shyness. – But with the right encouragement, he would soon loosen up.

You needed to encourage him.

That's why you gave a final drank to the Coca-Cola you were drinking and, unintentionally — or intentionally — tilted the bottle just enough for the dark liquid to spill onto your cream-colored cotton sweater, right on top of your breasts.

"Damn it!" You cursed, quickly getting up from the sofa and feigning your best sad pout. Jonathan looked at you worriedly, not knowing how to help. "Take that off, I'll get you one of my t-shirts, okay? Just wait a second." He said quickly, giving you one last look before practically running off to the bedroom.

So nice... You almost felt sorry for deceiving him. Almost.

Biting your lip to suppress a smile of excitement, you quickly removed the wet sweater and the thin tank top you were wearing underneath, leaving you only with the light lace bra.

"Look, it's going to be a little big, but I think..." Your boyfriend's voice gradually faded as he entered the room and saw you in just your bra, looking at him innocently.

Instinctively, he turned his back, making you chuckle softly. You could hardly wait for his shyness to finally vanish. "Sorry," He said softly, still with his back to you.

You walked slowly toward him, making him stiffen at the sound of your approaching footsteps. As you drew near, you pressed your semi-bare chest against his back, making him shudder at the warmth of your body.

You rested your head on his shoulder, smiling at his reaction. You reached out, gently taking the old band t-shirt from his hands. "Thank you, baby" You said.

He didn't answer, but nodded. As he started to move to leave the room, you called out to him, "Jon..."

He swallowed hard, trying to ignore what Your sweet voice was doing to him. "Y-yes?" He replied, trying and failing not to sound so nervous. "You can turn around," You said, throwing the shirt on the sofa. You wouldn't need it for now.

He closed his eyes tightly, trying somehow to stay in control, to ignore the desire. – He couldn't. When he realized it, he was already slowly turning around. His frantic eyes scanned every part of you, trying to memorize the image of you in your skirt and bra, your bust wet, staring at him with a smile he swore was devilishly irresistible.

You bit your lip at his reaction, feeling your body heat up under his gaze. Just a little more... Push him just a little more...

"I think I'll have to take this bra off too" You said, feigning innocence. His eyes widened, like those of a threatened rabbit, and you felt your pussy drip with desire for him.

"T-the bra?" He asked softly, almost as if he were talking to himself. You nodded, gazing longingly at the bulge forming in his pants. "Yes, Jon, it's ruined," You began, pulling the straps off your shoulders. He groaned, taking an unconscious step forward, as if his body no longer obeyed him.

"It's all wet, look. It'll probably stain." You did your best to sigh sadly with an pout. Wow, what an actress. You turned your back to him, glancing quickly over your shoulder. "Baby, can you unbutton it?" You asked softly, giving him puppy eyes.

He hesitated, trying to control himself. "Honey, I-I think it's better if we don't..." He stammered to you, red as a tomato. You could tell he was nervous, but the large erection hidden behind his jeans told you not to stop.

"Jonathan, unhook my bra." You repeated gently, and he, as if hypnotized, took long strides toward you, his trembling hands reaching for the buttons of your underwear.

His cold hands against your warm back sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. He unfastened the clasp, but didn't move away. Gently, he pulled the garment from your arms, dropping it to the floor with a soft thud.

You turned to him, having to lift your head to look him in the eyes. He didn't return your gaze immediately. His puppy-dog eyes stared with pure fire at your erect nipples. You swore you heard him groan.

You pressed your body against his, resting your hands on his chest, and his large hands immediately found their way to your waist. "Jon..." You whispered, silently pleading. "Are you sure?" He asked, breathless. You nodded confidently, and the next thing you knew, his lips crashed against yours in a desperate kiss.

His arms wrapped around your body, pulling you even closer, as if he wanted to merge with you. His tongue fought against yours for space, and his erection nudged your stomach, making you moan.

He broke off the kiss too soon, making you groan. He silenced you with a shy smile, and like a possessed man, attacked your breasts with kisses and licks.

You moaned, your hands flying to his hair, gripping it. He slowly trailed kisses down, reaching your full breasts. He kissed both before beginning to attack your right nipple.

He sucked, licked, and nibbled, and when he was satisfied, he moved his attack to your left breast.

All you could do was groan and moan, rubbing your legs together desperately for some kind of relief.

You needed him.

"Jon..." He released your breast with a snap and looked at you. He looked divine with his disheveled hair, dark eyes filled with desire, and red lips swollen from teasing your breasts. "I want you." You whispered, bringing your hand to his erection. He groaned desperately at your touch, unconsciously moving his hips against you.

You moved away from him enough to remove your skirt and panties, leaving you only in your long white knee-high stockings. He had also taken off his clothes, knowing full well that none of you wanted foreplay today.

"Bedroom or here?" He asked in a deep voice full of desire, and you bit your lip, wanting nothing more than to attack him right there.

"Here..." You replied, walking over to him. You kissed his swollen lips, making him groan needily, and gently pushed him so he sat down on the sofa.

You looked at his hard cock, feeling your mouth water. The red tip dripped with precum, and you felt the urge to lick it all up until there wasn't a single drop left.

With gentle grace, you sat on his lap, and his hands immediately grabbed you hungrily. You held his warm member with one hand, rubbing the swollen head against your clitoris. Your excitement soaked him completely, and when you felt satisfied, you carefully sank all the way in.

You both groaned loudly at the wonderful sensation, and Jonathan buried his face in your chest. You gently stroked his hair and began to move.

The wet sound of both of you filled the entire room.

You increased the speed, feeling every vein inside you, every pulse. Jonathan squeezed your hip with his large hands, and you almost went into ecstasy thinking about the marks they would leave.

"Jonathan..." You moaned softly. He grunted, lifting his hips slightly, and began thrusting forcefully against you. The new speed made you cry out, and he kissed you to muffle your screams.

You felt the familiar warmth near, and you tightened your walls to warn him. He knew, of course he knew, he knew you like the back of his hand. He then moved his hand to your clitoris, teasing it in the way he knew you liked.

When he felt he was close enough, he placed another kiss on your full lips and looked into your eyes. "I love you..." He whispered, and with that, you both reached the climax. His semen filled you, and you felt pleasantly full.

He rested his head against the back of the sofa, tired but completely satisfied, and you left a little kiss on his chest. He looked at you, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. You kissed his hand and whispered, "I love you too, Jon."

You two laughed at absolutely nothing, intoxicated by pleasure. The movie was still playing on the TV, but neither of you cared.

He hugged you gently, stroking your back. "So... did you like the movie?" He asked with a smile, making you giggle.

You agreed, giving him another kiss on the lips, and replied, "I loved it. How about we do it again next week?"

hum, hi Jonathan 😝

ps: I apologize for any mistake, english is not my first language, and I use Google Translate.

xoxo <3

[bjyers-deactivated20260321]

　　 　　❛ WORKING LATE ❜ ⸝⸝ jonathan byers

　　 　smut ⸝　boyfriend!jonathan x afab!reader 932 cw — second person pov. reader can't sleep so whilst she waits for her boyfriend to come back home, she plays with herself—masturbation, oral ﹙f. receiving﹚, dirty talk if you squint . a/n: you guys i wanted to post something cause i was really busy last week but i wrote this in like an hour so forgive me if it's a bit shitty lmao.

you were laying on jonathan’s bed as you waited for him to come home from the hawkins’ post. the sun had set a long time ago, maybe he’s working overtime—again, you thought.

you sighed, turning over to your side, as if by looking at the door, he’d magically show up. minutes passed by and you couldn't sleep, not without him by your side.

the silence of the night filled the room as you stared at the ceiling. your hand wandering down your body—that was only covered with your underwear and jonathan’s old shirt—slowly reaching your sex, teasing yourself through the thin fabric. your hips following the rhythm of your fingers, craving for more.

you closed your eyes as you continued touching yourself through your cloth, biting your lip not to moan jonathan’s name and god forbid wake joyce or will.

your back arched as you moved your underwear to the side, and having better access to your clit. the feeling of your fingers getting soaked with your wetness and how your clit had swollen made you gasp. your thighs closing around your hand as it felt too good.

“having fun without me?” you heard jonathan’s voice.

“how long you've been there?” you asked, eyes wide.

“long enough.” he said casually, loosening his tie as he closed the door of his bedroom. his eyes darted to where your hand covered your sex, just before they went back to your face. he took his shoes off before he began to unbutton his clothes.

“is that my shirt?” you nodded and pulled it down your thighs as if covering yourself could hide your embarrassment too. “hey, no need to be shy.” he said as he crawled in bed with you, holding your wrists in his hands to stop them, his shirt recovering its shape and revealing your exposed skin to him.

you watched as his mouth opened a bit before he licked his lips. you closed your legs in response. “hey, no, don't…” he bit his lip, his hands letting go of your wrists as they reached your knees. “may i?”

you nodded as he opened your legs again, his hands caressing the inner skin of your thighs as he got himself between them. “been thinking about this pussy all day.” he confessed against your wet folds, making you shiver. “just about how wet it gets for me...”

“jonathan…” you breathed, his nose brushing with your clit. 

“yeah?” he whispered, lips so close to your pussy you almost felt like cumming. “talk to me.” he said as he left a kiss on your clit, your body squirming to the mere act. “tell me what you want.” he left another kiss, “and i’ll give it to you.”

“i want you…” you whimpered slowly. jonathan hummed against your pussy, making you shiver again. 

“where?” he asked unbothered, his dick twitching inside his underwear at the way you tried to hold your desperation back.

without needing to use a word, you pulled him closer to your core, your fingers getting lost in his hair as his lips collided with your folds.

he moaned slightly as he tasted you, your juices spreading along his tongue as he began to lick. jonathan closed his eyes as he used his mouth to explore every corner of your soaked pussy. 

his hands holding onto your thighs to keep them from closing around his head, his tongue licking, sucking and thrusting into your clit, your folds, your entrance.

the noises of your wetness and how he worked on eating you out filling the small space of his room. the way he softly moaned against your core as you pulled him deeper and closer—if it was even possible—and how you tried to hold yourself back from screaming his name right there, right now.

“jonathan…” your hips rubbing against his face, trying to get more friction. “i need you to—ahh, fuck.” you covered your mouth with your hands, as his tongue began to desperately lick your clit.

as sensitive as it felt, and as tight as you closed your thighs around his head, he kept going. you felt him gasping, panting against your pussy as your body tensed under him. your thighs holding him still, your toes curling and your head falling back against the pillows as you felt yourself orgasm.

jonathan kept on going until your body began to shake every time he teased your clit, pulling your legs downwards slowly as he released himself from them.

“you okay?” he asked and as you looked back at him, you couldn't help but curse from how your arousal dripped from his chin.

“yeah.” you said a little out of breath, and as he crawled on top of you, you held his face in your hands. “i hate it when you overwork.” he sighed, looking down. “i know.”

“but you sure know how to make it up.” he lifted his gaze up again and smiled.

“you liked it?”

“i loved it.” you said as you pulled him closer, your nose brushing with his. “maybe you should overwork more…”

he smiled and squinted, “you sure you're not trying to get rid of me?”

“hmm…” you looked up as if thinking about it. “no, never.” and with that you closed the small distance between you, connecting your lips with his, tasting your arousal in the process. jonathan giving in and melting into your kiss, his crotch rubbing with your core as you wrapped your legs around him, making him moan in your mouth, and just as he pulled apart from your lips, he asked;

“up for another round?”

© bjyers 2025 .

[keeryhours]

undressed - jonathan byers

Jonathan Byers x female! Munson!reader

Customer: Anonymous

Order: Cheesecake a la mode for two with whipped cream

Ingredients: Smut (18+), fluff, first time, virgin!Jonathan, unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving), weed use, reader is described as having similar features to Eddie (brown curly hair, big brown eyes)

Total: $36.04 (3.6k words)

thank you @glassbxttless for my banner and for reading over this for me!

Place an Order!

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“You ever get tired of listening to Talking Heads and reading Vonnegut?”

Jonathan put his book down, giving you a playfully displeased look. “It’s a nice life.”

“And how’s your love life going?”

Jonathan threw the small paperback at you, which you dodged quickly. “I’ve got a better idea of what we can do tonight while your mom and Will are gone anyway.”

“Oh yeah?” Jonathan sat up. “What’s that?”

You reached into your bag and pulled out a baggie of weed, waving it. “Courtesy of my brother.”

Jonathan took the baggie from your hands, examining it. “Does he know you took this?”

“No,” you shrugged, “but he owes me anyway.”

“I don’t even want to know what for.”

The smell from the baggie was pungent, spreading throughout the room already. He wasn’t sure how he didn’t know you had it the second you walked in. “My mom will kill me.”

“She won’t know.” You opened the baggie and began spreading it out on Jonathan’s desk. “Have you ever smoked before?”

“You know the answer to that,” Jonathan mumbled. You knew he hadn’t done much living at all.

“Do you want to try it?”

Jonathan paused. “I don’t know.”

“Are you scared?” You smirked. “You know my brother does it all the time and he’s fine. Mostly. He even taught me how to roll.”

Jonathan straightened some of his photographs on his desk. “I don’t know that I would call Eddie-“

“Don’t even finish that thought,” you said. Despite how much you and Eddie could bicker, you loved each other fiercely and would defend each other to your last breath.

You took a paper out of the little box and spread the weed out over it. Jonathan watched you closely as you began to roll the joint. “I guess I’ll try it.”

You nearly squealed. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, why not?” He sat down on his bed again, watching you work. He was a little nervous, but he wouldn’t admit that to you. He was sure you’d done this before, plenty of times.

When you were done rolling, you held up the joint proudly. It was perfect, as far as Jonathan could tell. “You got a lighter?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jonathan grabbed a lighter from his bedside drawer. He had bought it when he decided to try cigarettes, but he didn’t like them much. He hoped he’d like the weed better. You and Eddie both smoked cigarettes - the two of you were eerily alike. Same wild brown curls, too. Jonathan dreamed of running his fingers through yours.

You sparked up the joint and took the first hit. Jonathan watched, then did just as you had when you passed it to him. He was able to inhale the smoke and blow it out without coughing his head off, and you gave him an impressed nod that sent his heart soaring.

He did like the way the weed made him feel. He felt relaxed, calm, happy. Everything was entertaining, everything was hilarious. And you were even more beautiful than you were every other day. Jonathan couldn’t believe his luck, having such a beautiful best friend, currently sitting in his bed - now, if only you felt the same way about him.

He couldn’t stop looking at you. You made him feel…everything. You made him feel alive. He wanted to kiss you more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

“You’re beautiful.”

The words were out of his mouth before he even realized. He didn’t even notice he had interrupted you mid-story. Your big brown eyes went wide.

“What?”

Jonathan didn’t know what to do. He was panicking internally, not sure how to get himself out of this one. “I- I mean-“

“You think I’m beautiful?”

Jonathan’s eyes searched your face for any sign of anger, or that you were about to laugh in his face. “Yeah. I…I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life.”

You smiled, and for a horrible second he thought you really were about to laugh at him. “Jon…”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” he said quickly. “I just…you needed to hear it. I had to tell you. I couldn’t keep it inside anymore. I love-“

Your eyes widened even further, and Jonathan’s cheeks turned bright pink. “Love?”

“I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Sure,” you giggled. Your faces were so close together, mere inches apart. You could feel his shaking breath slightly on your face. You lifted your hand and rested it on his cheek. His eyes darted down to your lips then back to your eyes.

“You don’t have to-“

You interrupted his thought by kissing him. Jonathan whimpered when he felt your lips on his for the first time, and it made you giggle into the kiss. Your lips worked together easily - you took the lead, showing him what to do. You definitely were the more experienced here.

He was so eager to kiss you back, fingers finally running through your beautiful hair the way they’d been itching to do. His tongue traced the seam of your lips and you happily let him in. Once you had parted your lips, Jonathan realized he didn’t exactly know what to do, so you took the lead again, licking against his tongue and making him moan.

His hand slid up your front, groping at your tits over your faded Hellfire t-shirt. You moaned into the kiss and it gave him the confidence to pull your shirt completely over your head.

His eyes locked on your tits once your shirt was out of the way. He had never seen a girl naked before in real life - and still hadn’t, but seeing you shirtless was a step in the right direction. He’d fantasized about it - about you - for years.

“You can touch me,” you said softly. “I want you to touch me.”

“You sure?” Jonathan asked. His hands hovered over your body, like he was scared or worried he’d scare you away.

“Jon,” you giggled and climbed into his lap, straddling him. “Touch me.”

He placed his hands on your bare waist. Your skin was so smooth beneath his palms, he just rubbed up and down, feeling you. You smelled so good, too, like some kind of fruity soap or perfume. It made his cock harder in his jeans, the femininity of it.

He moved his hands up, cupping over your tits. He groaned, feeling them up, before he boldly moved around and unclasped your bra. His eyes were locked on your tits as the material fell away, then  finally, finally they were fully exposed.

Jonathan pulled your body into him, wrapping his mouth around your nipple. You gasped, arms wrapping loosely around his neck as he swirled his tongue around it, sucking on your nipple and making you moan.

“Jon-!” you moaned, arching your back further into him. His hands felt you up, sliding up and down your back as he sucked on your nipples, giving both plenty of attention. You could feel him already incredibly hard beneath your lap.

“You taste so good,” he groaned as he finally pulled back and looked up at you with wonder. “So good.”

“Yeah?” You had a smirk on your face as you leaned over, closer and closer to him, while he watched your next move with his eyes wide. When you kissed him again it’s like he came alive with it, hands moving all over your body again as you made out.

Jonathan’s mind was swimming. He’d dreamed of having you in this position for years, dreamed of touching you, of being inside you - which seemed like the direction this was maybe heading, sending butterflies flying in his stomach. Was he seriously about to lose his virginity? To you?”

You rolled your hips down against him and his fingers tightened on your skin. “Fuck,” he hissed. “What are you doing to me?”

“Going to make you feel good, I hope.” You trailed kisses along his jaw and to his neck, where he breathed in a quick gasp of air. He was trembling, simply along for the ride for anything you’d do to him.

Your hands trailed down his chest, reaching for the hem of his shirt. You pulled it up and over his head, then kissed him again, your bare chest pressed against his. He let out a choked moan at the feeling of your bare tits against his chest, but tried to gather his bearings quickly.

He gripped your ass, rocking your hips against his hard-on faster. “Baby,” he whimpered.

“Baby?” you giggled - he’d never called you the pet name before. “That’s cute.”

Jonathan blushed, but his attention was quickly diverted when he felt your hands undoing his belt and jeans. He watched you work them open, then start to pull them down. “Woah, a-are you serious?”

You looked up at him, pure innocence on your face. “Why not?”

He didn’t really have an answer for that. And he wanted this more than anything. You smirked when he didn’t protest and went back to pulling his pants and boxers down. His needy cock sprung free, twitching now from the cool air and attention. You watched the precum bead on his tip, then wrapped your hand around his shaft.

Jonathan inhaled sharply, his head falling back against the headboard. His shaking hands were balled into fists in his comforter. He was watching the ceiling.

You paused your movements. “What are you doing? You don’t want to look?”

“No, I-I want to look,” he said. “I’m just…I’m scared if I do, I’ll…” He motions with his hand.

You giggled. “Just relax and enjoy yourself. You’ll be fine. If you finish early, well, that’s just flattering, at least.”

He looked down to meet your eyes, still avoiding the sight of your hand on his cock. “You’re sure?”

“Of course. I want you to have fun.” You held his eye contact as you slowly began working your hand up and down his cock, and you could see his resolve waning immediately. His eyebrows drew together, his lips parting and breath growing heavier, his cheeks turning pink.

“Fuck,” he hissed again. Finally his gaze dropped to where you were pleasuring him, and he whined. “H-holy shit.”

“Feels good?” you teased, although you really did want to make him feel the best he’d ever felt. He nodded quickly, and you knew you were doing a good job.

You let go of him and he watched you curiously. He was suddenly very interested again when you began undoing your own jeans, eyes still locked on his face. You sat up on your knees and began sliding them down, slowly, tantalizingly. Jonathan was hooked.

You removed your jeans, leaving you in nothing but your black lace panties. He very much was enjoying the view, wanting to touch you everywhere.

You lowered yourself between his legs, sticking your tongue out and tapping his cock against it. He let out a shaking breath with a little “o-oh shit.”

You watched his reactions as you wrapped your lips around his tip, flicking your tongue over it to taste the precum. He whimpered, hand coming to rest on the back of your head but not pushing.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned as you set a rhythm bobbing on him, taking him deeper with every pass. “Oh my god, I can’t believe- I can’t believe you’re- oh-“

You wanted to laugh at his reaction, but his cock was keeping your mouth stuffed full. Your back was arched as you sucked him, keeping your ass on display for him. He let his hands rub every inch of your skin he could reach.

You took him until he was hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. Jonathan let out a loud moan, his hips involuntarily bucking up into your mouth. “Shit! Sorry, sorry.”

“‘s okay,” you said as you came up for air. Your eyes were red and watering, tears streaking your mascara down your face. Jonathan was losing his goddamn mind. “I liked it.” You took him back down your throat again.

Jonathan set a gentle rhythm of thrusting up into your mouth every time you’d sink down, nothing overwhelming but it’s like he couldn’t sit still. He had to have more of you. His eyes were half lidded, yet watching your every move.

“B-baby,” he stuttered, tugging on your hair as you took him real deep again. “If you don’t stop, I’m g-gonna-“

You slowly pulled off of him, meeting his eyes with a mixture of your spit and his precum shining on your lips. That almost undid him right there.

“Why did you want me to stop?” you asked, all big Munson brown eyes and innocence. “Was there something else you wanted to do?”

Jonathan froze, because what if you hadn’t wanted to have sex? What if this was all you’d planned and now he’d just made an ass out of himself? “I-I mean, this is good, we don’t have to do anything else-“

You laughed, kissing him to shut him up. “I’m just fucking with you.”

You slowly guided his hands down to your waist, where he got the hint and slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties. Slowly, carefully, as if you’d tell him to stop at any moment (you’d never), he slid your panties down your legs and off your body.

You rolled off of him and he took the chance to take in your whole naked form before he pushed his pants and boxers the rest of the way off and climbed on top of you. He kissed all over your body, like he was worshipping you.

“Jesus, you’re beautiful,” he said between kisses. “I’ve never seen a girl as beautiful as you in my life. I can’t believe you’re naked in my bed right now.”

You laughed, eyes closed as you enjoyed the feeling of his mouth all over you. “You’re not so bad yourself, Byers.”

You could feel his smile against your skin. Admittedly, Jonathan didn’t receive a lot of tender words. Mostly he was just called a freak - not unlike your brother. Maybe that’s why you saw the real him so quickly, so easily. Why you were drawn to one another.

Jonathan’s hand trailed up and down your side as he kissed your lips again. He was so unbelievably hard against your thigh. You just wanted to make him feel good so badly.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked him - and he froze.

“Shit,” he cursed. He wanted to slap himself - sure, he knew he wasn’t getting any, but now he had the chance and he wasn’t prepared? “No. I don’t.” He didn’t think he’d ever been so disappointed in his life.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I’m on birth control.”

His eyes lit up. “Yeah? You still want to?”

“Of course I do,” you giggled. “I don’t want to stop now.”

Jonathan crashed his lips back into yours, kissing you more passionately than anyone ever had before. His hand came to rest against your neck, fingers slid into your curls, holding you close as your lips moved together like they knew one another intimately.

Then he was hiking your leg up, sliding it around his waist. His cock was prodding at your entrance, insistent, so ready. “Please,” he gasped. “Can I?” Always such a gentleman.

“Yes,” you said. “Please. I want you to.”

He lined himself up with your entrance, rubbing his cock through your folds a few times just to feel you, to see how wet you were, to coat himself in it. Then he was finally, finally pushing inside of you.

You gasped, watching his face twist in pleasure as he sunk into you inch by inch. His eyes squeezed shut, mouth dropping open in a loud moan. He couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe you were letting him do this - that you wanted him to do this to you.

He thrusted into you slowly at first. It took him a minute to find his rhythm, at first just thrusting into you wildly, however felt good to him. But with some guidance from your hands on his hips, he found a good pace, thrusting into you slow yet hard.

He buried his face in your neck, hiding his desperate moans. Every push into you felt like absolute heaven to him, better than he ever imagined sex would feel. You were so tight, so wet, and he was so deep-

“Feels so good, Jon,” you moaned, and hearing you moan his name like that almost made him lose his mind. 

“Y-yeah?” he stuttered. “You l-like that? Like when I fuck you?”

You almost giggled at his attempt at dirty talk, but it was also working. “Uh huh,” you moaned. “Please don’t stop. Feels so good.”

“Not gonna stop,” he promised you, because that was the absolute last thing he ever wanted to do. He wanted to stay buried inside of you for the rest of his life. “You feel too good, baby.”

You pulled on his hair, making him whine. It was like every new thing you tried got the best reaction out of him. It was driving you crazy - you loved every second of this.

“Shit, I-I’m not gonna last,” he said shakily, his thrusts turning harder yet sloppier. “Feels too fucking good. I can’t- I-I’m gonna-“

“Not yet,” you said quickly. “Please, Jon, if you can hold on just a little bit longer, I wanna cum too-“

“Fuck,” he gasped. “I’m so- so fucking close-“

You reached a hand down between you and began rubbing your clit in quick circles. That was too much for Jonathan because he pitched forward, biting onto your shoulder as he cried out, ropes of his cum shooting inside of you.

Your own orgasm hit just as he started groaning your name, the feeling of him throbbing inside you pushing you over the edge. You came around him, pussy clenching around his cock and milking him for every drop he had. He was trembling on top of you, holding you close, not wanting this to end.

The spell was broken when you realized what time it was. “Shit,” you cursed. “It’s 7:50.”

Jonathan groaned but lifted himself up, pulling out of you. He kissed you softly. “That was incredible.”

“Yeah?” you smiled. “Good first time?”

“Perfect first time,” he agreed. He kissed you one more time. “Fuck, I never want to stop doing that.”

“Who says you have to?” you smiled and kissed his elated face again.

“Jonathan?” you heard from the front door as it slammed closed.

“Oh shit.” He jumped up at the sound of his mom coming home, reaching for his clothes in record time. You joined, grabbing whatever you could find and throwing it on.

There was a knock at the door just as you pulled the t-shirt over your head. It opened and Joyce peeked in, looking like she was bracing herself for what she’d almost walked in on. Instead she found you and Jonathan, smiling like you’d definitely been up to something.

“Hey, mom,” he said. Will peeked from around her, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was going on in this room, either.

Joyce looked between the two of you. “Well, we’re about to have dinner if you’d like to stay,” she said to you.

“Oh, thank you, but that’s okay. Eddie’s supposed to be here any minute now.”

Joyce nodded and the two of them left the room. You and Jonathan exchanged a look, and he breathed out a relieved laugh. “Do you think she knew?”

“Probably not,” you smiled. “Maybe. She was a teenager once, too.”

Jonathan blushed bright red. “Please. I don’t want to think about what my mom got up to as a teenager. Or about her knowing what we just did.”

You laughed, then leaned in to kiss him again. He smiled into the kiss, feeling like he’d never been happier. He didn’t even care that his mom had left his door open, which she never did.

You kissed, and kissed, and kissed. When you heard the horn of the familiar van blaring outside you reluctantly pulled away from him, kiss-swollen lips glistening in the low light of his bedroom.

“I don’t want you to go,” Jonathan muttered, looking at you as if he was in a trance. He could have sat here kissing you for the rest of his life, he thought.

“I know. Me either.” You kissed him one more time, then jumped up. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he said dreamily, watching you go.

You walked through the Byers house, yelling a distracted goodbye to Joyce and Will. You felt like you were floating on cloud 9, like nothing could ruin your mood.

You climbed into the passenger seat of the van and slammed the door closed, stupid smile still on your face.

Eddie took one look at you and scrunched his nose up. “You had sex.”

Your jaw dropped. “Eddie! What the fuck?”

“You had sex,” he said again, starting the van and shaking his head. “With Jonathan?”

“How would you even know that?”

“For one thing, I know you better than anybody,” he reminded you. “Second, I don’t remember you leaving the house in that shirt. Or even owning it.”

Your eyes went wide. You opened the mirror, looking at your appearance for the first time since you’d redressed - and seeing Jonathan’s The Smiths shirt on your body.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

Eddie threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah. Fuck.”

No wonder Joyce had left the door open.

tag list

@losingmygrasponreality @angxlg0dz @xplrnowornever @charmed-asylum @robinbuckleywife

[eiightysixbaby]

Can I request a small smut of Jonathan with a fem reader who is sore and uncomfy from her period? (tender breasts, sore nipples, cramps, body aches, extremely high sex drive)

thanks for the request lovely!

cw: period blood, mentions of general period discomfort, unprotected piv sex

You grimace as you flush the toilet, watching the blood-red water swirl down the bowl. Your stomach twists, lower back aching as you waddle awkwardly over to the sink to wash your hands. It was only the second day of your period, and you weren’t faring well so far.

Everything ached, from your back to your breasts to your head, and you feel like you’re bleeding more than you usually do. More than anyone should, for that matter. You’d spent as much time as you could get away with in bed, because even getting up to use the bathroom was enough to have you keeling over in pain. To make everything worse, your sex drive was through the roof, and you were feeling a little bit hesitant to ask the favor from your boyfriend.

Shuffling pitifully back into your bedroom, Jonathan sits expectantly on the mattress, waiting for you.

“Angel,” he pouts, seeing the way your face scrunches in discomfort.

“Everything hurts,” you whine. “Don’t wanna bleed anymore.”

“I’m sorry I can’t make it stop, sweet girl,” he coos, pulling you to stand between his legs where they hang off the mattress. His hands rub up and down your arms soothingly. “How can I help, though?” he asks, pressing kisses to the backs of your hands.

You shift on your feet, face going warm as you look down at the carpeted floor. You don’t really know why you’re so nervous to ask this of him, honestly. You’d had period sex before, just not often, but it’s not like Jonathan cared.

“Why are you all shy?” he asks, moving his head forward to catch your downcast gaze, grinning at you.

“Can we have sex?” you ask, like it’s some big horrible question. Jonathan snorts a little laugh.

“I— yeah? Yeah. Is that what you want?” he asks, clearly not expecting that to be your request.

“Please,” you practically cry. “I want you so bad, I’ve been like this all day.”

“Baby,” he says, pulling you even closer to him, wrapping his arms around your middle. “Of course we can. Why would I tell you no? You drive me crazy, I always want you,” he says, smiling softly up at you.

“I’m just bleeding a lot and… I don’t know. It’s gonna be so messy,” you worry, chewing at your fingernail.

“Hey, hey,” he says. “Don’t worry about that. I want to make you feel good. If you want to have sex, we’ll have sex.”

The way he rubs your lower back instantly provides relief to the soreness that prods deep, and the warmth of his hands on your skin makes your thighs squeeze together. You melt into his touch, letting his hands wander further up your back. You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing him to bury his face into your chest. His fingers trace patterns on your back, simultaneously soothing you and setting your body ablaze with need.

“Jonathan,” you whine. “Don’t make me wait,” you plead, making him chuckle against you.

“So impatient, huh?” he teases, smiling. “Come lay down on the bed, angel.”

You follow directions, letting your body rest on the comfortable mattress. Jonathan is quick to hover over you, his hands holding your waist as he presses kisses to your tummy, nosing the hem of your shirt up.

Your body is on fire, desperate and ravenous for him. His mouth works its way up, hands gently cupping the sides of your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples. He kisses the valley between them, your back arching into him. He chuckles against your skin, big hands giving your tits a gentle squeeze. They’re sore, but it hurts in a good way with his hands on them.

“I love when you’re needy like this,” he says, caramel eyes gazing up at you with a mischievous gleam.

“Please fuck me,” you pant, worked up beyond belief and he’s barely done anything.

“Honey,” he coos, smirking up at you as he takes one nipple into his mouth.

His thumb doesn’t stop toying with the other one, your chest heaving with your shuddering breaths. He unlatches his lips from your skin only to move up, capturing your mouth against his as his hands continue their work to rile you up. You whimper into his open mouth, squirming on the bed beneath him. His eager mouth kisses your cheek, your jaw, your earlobe; teeth nipping at the soft, delicate skin before one hand tugs your sweatpants down. Your cunt clenches as his fingers ghost over the waistband of your underwear, the less-than-glamorous stained pair from previous periods that you always break out during this time.

He paws at the thin fabric until you assist him in getting them all the way off, unglamorously crumpling them around the pad you’d just stuck to them. He jumps up to get a towel as you strip, unfazed by all of the things that had made you so hesitant to ask him to do this. He coaxes you to lift your hips, laying the towel flat beneath you to catch any blood that may leak.

His pants and boxers follow suit with your garments, landing in a heap on the floor before he moves to hover above you once more.

“You ready for me, baby?” he murmurs into your ear, nose brushing the side of your face gently.

“Yes,” you whine. “Fuck yes.”

Pressing kisses to your hairline, he fists his cock a couple of times before lining it up with your weeping entrance. You hiss when the head prods inside, and then he sinks the rest of himself in in one fluid motion. Between the slipperiness of the blood and that of your arousal, he fits without much resistance. Being so full feels like heaven, his cock gliding out and back in with ease. It takes your breath away in the best way, your fingernails desperately clawing at his back.

“Feel good, baby?” he asks, starting to set a steady pace with his hips. “Y’like being so fuckin’ full of me?”

“Uh-huh,” is all you can get out, along with a fervent nod.

“You’re so pretty. My prettiest girl,” he praises, kissing your forehead as he rocks into you.

Every snap of his hips to yours makes the aches in your body ease more and more, pain giving way to complete pleasure. Your senses are on overdrive, every touch and caress from his hands rippling through your entire body. You grab his face, pulling him into a greedy, hungry kiss that’s more tongue than anything. The way he groans into your mouth sends you reeling, shockwaves heading straight to your soaked core.

It’s been maybe five minutes, and you’re already on the edge of release, your body so worked up and ready to let go for him. He brings one hand to cup your throat, squeezing the sides softly as he fucks just a little bit harder into you. High-pitched moans leave your mouth, begging him not to stop.

In another minute you’re free-falling over the edge, walls fluttering around him, your legs trembling. He kisses you, firm and hot as you ride it out. He doesn’t cum yet, slowing the pace of his hips and pulling entirely out of you, teasing your folds with the head of his drooling cock. You can see the red stains of the blood that’s started to dry on his skin, and you almost shy away from him in embarrassment before he stops you. It’s like he can read your mind, bringing a hand to cup your face, tilting it so you’re looking right at him.

“You’re so gorgeous, you know that?” he hums, his sweet words making your heart swell.

His hands glide softly down the sides of your body, stopping at your thighs and kneading the flesh.

“I’m not done with you just yet, sweet girl,” he says, leaning down to kiss between your breasts, dragging his bottom lip across your skin. “Wanna give me another?”

By the time you’re finished, the aches and pains of your period are long forgotten, your body worn out and your mind eased. Turns out Jonathan is the cure for it all.

[eiightysixbaby]

thinking about giving Jonathan permission to cum inside while hitting it raw… can you imagine his face and whimpering like- 🙈

oh my GOD.

he never expected you to let him fuck you raw so early on in your relationship, so when he slips inside of you — with no barrier between your body and his — he thinks he could actually die. you’re so warm and wet around his cock, and he can feel you so much better than he could all those times with a condom on. it’s enough to make him delirious.

you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him close, and he watches as your tits bounce with every thrust he gives you. you look up at him with sultry eyes, your lips parting in a pretty moan when his cock presses particularly deep inside of you.

“you feel so fucking good, Jonathan, never wanna use condoms again,” you whine, light and breathy as you take every inch of him.

“fuck, don’t say that,” Jonathan laughs a little, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. his other one is planted flat on the mattress beside you, grounding himself as he drills into you.

he gets so close to release so fast, he’s worried it’s too fast, but you only encourage him when you notice his movements getting sloppy.

“yeah, baby? gonna cum already?”

“yes, fuck, you just feel… s-so good,” he pants, his brows furrowing as he tries to meet your eyes.

“why don’t you cum inside of me?” you purr, and it catches him completely off guard.

he didn’t expect you to let him fuck you raw, and he certainly didn’t expect you to ask him to finish inside. it’s like his whole body short circuits, his brain included.

“I- u-um,” he stammers, his cheeks flushing a furious pink as he tries to find words.

“please? I want you to fill me up, Jon,” you beg, oh so pretty and polite. how could he say no to you? he never would.

“yeah, yeah — ohhhhfuck, yeah I’ll cum inside of you,” he rasps, his eyes rolling back as his hips fuck into you faster and faster.

his grip tightens on your wrists, whimpers falling pitifully from his lips in constant strings. his bangs stick to his head with sweat, his eyes trained on you as he concentrates. your moans and cries of his name spur him on, and you cum around him without a warning, your cunt spasming.

it sends him right over his edge, too, not getting out more than an “I’m gonna—” before he’s spilling inside of you. you can feel him twitch, can feel his cum coating your walls, and it makes you hot all over again. his body collapses on top of yours, sticky skin pressed together as he catches his breath.

“how was it?” you ask, a teasing lilt to your voice.

“can I eat you out? please? made a mess of you and the least I can do is clean you up…” he says, answering your question with a question, his lips trailing your jawline with kisses.

your eyebrows raise, but you nod, letting him eagerly lap up his cum as it drips out of you. he hopes you were serious, and that you’re never using condoms again.