synopsis: you wake up with a new last name and bask in the morning after you said ‘i do’.
warnings: sweet lil fluffy fic, spencer is a simp for his wife (as he should be), spencer is a little cheeky in this one, smut (soft dom[?] spencer, fingering, unprotected piv, very brief nipple play, smut isn’t too detailed but it’s there), spencer and reader both work for the bau, penelope stays scheming (sorta) and we love her for that. reader is nondescript with no use of y/n.
word count: 2.1k
author’s note: this entire one shot is purely inspired by a tiktok i saw of someone filming their hotel room the morning after their wedding night, so here we are. the song ‘anyone’ by justin bieber also gave me a lil inspo for this :’)
hope you enjoy! feedback / comments / comment reblogs are much appreciated <3
It’s not the sunlight shining brilliantly through the soft curtains that wakes you.
It’s not even the birds as they beautifully chirp their morning song.
It is the warm naked body that’s pressed tightly against your own bare one, hand splayed on your stomach and the cool kiss of your husband’s wedding band against your hot skin that sends a shiver down your spine.
Your husband.
You grin like a fool in love (because really, who are you kidding? you so are).
You’d experienced the most perfect day of your life yesterday surrounded by everyone you love, and the most unforgettable night spent with your man. The smile he wore all night shined brighter than any sunny days you’ve ever seen, and you made yourself a promise to etch the image in your mind forever.
You stretch slowly in his arms, taking in your surroundings.
Two empty glasses of champagne on your bedside table, one with your lipstick print on it, sits next to your phone with a plethora of unread text messages from the girl’s group chat at the BAU.
Your eyes catch on to your white heels and wedding dress strewn across the floor haphazardly, with his dress shoes and tux to match.
Your matching lacy set that Penelope insisted you get for your wedding night isn’t too far from your dress.
The way Spencer’s hungry eyes scanned you when he slowly slid your dress off of your body, only to find you in the pretty lingerie, did something absolutely unspeakable to him.
Something deeply carnal had unfurled low in your belly at the sight of him as he fell to his knees in front of you, hands traveling slowly and deliberately down your body, kissing you below your navel and the apex of your thighs.
Marveling at you.
Worshipping you.
His hazel eyes glowed in the soft light that emanated from the lamp in the corner of the hotel room, so expressive and full of love.
You still feel the press and drag of his lips on your skin. His tongue everywhere that made your back arch and toes curl in pure bliss. His sweet whispered words as he made love to you for the first time as his wife.
How he got rougher toward the third round as you kept begging for him to not stop.
A kiss to your shoulder brings you back to reality.
Spencer stirs, lips trailing from your shoulder to your collarbone. You softly laugh as you turn and run your fingers through his curls, revealing his handsome sleepy face.
“Good morning, my angel,” he rasps, voice thick with sleep.
“Good morning my handsome husband.”
He grins widely at that, burying his face into your neck as he pulls you closer into him.
“My wife,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your skin once again. “I can’t believe you’re all mine.”
He lifts his head again, moving down to kiss your forehead.
“Well believe it, Mr. Reid. You’ve got me for eternity,” your voice goes soft around the edges, and you know you’re looking at him with pure adoration.
“I love the sound of that.”
His hand slides down your bare body, and goosebumps raise on your skin at his touch.
He sports a shit-eating grin because he knows just how much his touch alone affects you.
“What was on your mind a few minutes ago? Your breathing increased quite rapidly.”
You glare at him with fake unamusement. Ever the profiler.
“Are you profiling your wife now?” You tease, bringing your face closer to his.
He hums, hand sliding lower—close to where you want him.
“It’s in our nature at this point,” he defends.
“What do you think I was thinking about?”
“I have a few ideas,” he quips, and you raise an eyebrow.
You falter for a second as his fingers brush your mound, and you shiver.
“Well you are a genius.”
He huffs a laugh and leans in to kiss you softly as his fingers brush over your slick folds. Your legs fall open for him, and he grins against your lips before he slides his middle finger through your slit, bringing it back up to circle your sensitive clit.
You gasp against his lips, but his mouth chases yours and kisses you deeply. Urgently. Your hands curl into his hair, tugging gently as your hips start to writhe with need.
“I think,” he parts his lips from yours, voice sounding wrecked, “that you were having flashbacks about last night.”
“Maybe I was.”
“I was too.”
“Spence,” you gasp as he slowly adds one finger into you, shortly followed by another.
“My beautiful wife,” he whispers, switching positions so he’s now on top of you.
Your gaze meets his, eyebrows threaded together, jaw slack at the feeling of his fingers working in and out of you expertly.
Your fingertips trace down his back, one hand trailing around his front until you brush the wiry hairs above his stiff length.
“I need you,” you breathe. And it might be a tad bit selfish considering all of the work he put in last night, but he doesn’t see it that way.
He wants to please his wife over and over and over again at every opportunity he can possibly get.
So that’s what he does.
“Need me to what, angel?” He smirks, his fingers slowly sliding out of you as his other hand covers yours around the base of his cock.
He slowly moves your hand up his silky flesh. His eyes fall closed and he hisses at the sensation, shakily exhaling before opening his eyes back up to look at you.
You’re both a trembling, wanting mess at this point, that same carnal desire wrapping herself around you both as she sinks her claws into your flesh.
Your heart is pounding against your ribcage, and you almost want to laugh at how ridiculous it is that you still get like this with him. A trembling, needy mess with a hint of nervousness and enough yearning to last a lifetime.
And you also hope that very specific feeling never goes away.
With that feeling also sparks a hint of boldness, and you do with that what you can muster.
“I need you to fuck your wife into this mattress, Dr. Reid.”
His eyes darken as soon as the word “Doctor” slips past your lips. Your bold choice of words hit home for him too, but something about you calling him by his title sends him soaring over the edge every single time.
He groans at that, head hanging between his shoulder blades as he guides himself toward you, pushing into you slowly at first. He slides his hands up your arms, pinning your wrists above your head.
He’s got that look of control and determination in his eyes. It makes the rumbling flame low in your belly spread into a full-fledged forest fire.
You gasp as he reaches the hilt, and he’s hot and heavy in you. You’re breathless, and Spencer gives you a moment to collect yourself.
It’s not long before the sweet words from last night that still hung in the atmosphere quickly dissipate, swapped out with far more intense vows of pleasure.
It’s a side of Spencer you only ever got to see in the bedroom, but you love that it’s reserved for you and only you all the same.
With his words, he picks up the pace of his hips significantly, practically pistoning in and out of you.
A string of curses and whines flies past your lips, head tossed back against the pillows. He releases your wrists and your hands immediately fly to slide down his back, nails unintentionally scratching his skin. You wrap your legs around his waist, and it isn’t long before you completely succumb to the feeling of him once more.
“Spencer—oh god oh god oh god,” you cry. He moves his hands to hold your hips down, fingers digging into your flesh. He leans down to kiss you, love and desperation tightly packed into the moment. It’s almost like a gut punch with the realization of how much love this man truly pours into you.
His lips separate from yours, moving close to your ear as he rasps his next words.
“You have me completely at your mercy, my beautiful wife. Especially when you say my name like that.”
“I love you Spencer,” you say, looking into his eyes as he thrusts into you relentlessly. He sits up for a beat, bringing your ankles over his shoulders. The new angle nearly has you seeing stars, and you’re pretty sure the whole floor of this hotel knows exactly what you two are doing… for the fourth time in the last ten hours.
He pauses for a second. You look at him with confusion before he kisses you again, and you completely melt into the mattress beneath you.
“I love you too, angel. So fucking much.”
He thrusts into you a few more times, reaching down to rub your clit to send you over the edge.
That’s it, my pretty girl. So good. So fucking good. Look at you, my sweet angel.
It’s then that you completely unravel for him, his words having you at his mercy. Your breathless pleas encourage him to come too, and he follows suit not long after.
You’re panting as his thrusts eventually slow and he slowly pulls out of you. You hiss at the loss of contact, trying to catch your breath. He pulls you into his side, kissing the crown of your head as he traces light patterns on your skin. He brings your left hand up to his line of sight, admiring the pair of rings that adorn your ring finger. He leans up to press his lips against your rings, and you can’t help the absolute love-struck girlish smile that spreads across your lips.
You bask in the peaceful bliss of your little “day-after-I-do” bubble, enjoying the time you have with him away from the chaos of your daily lives.
Until it’s shortly interrupted with the shrill ringtone from your phone that makes you both jump.
You groan and pick it up, seeing Penelope’s bright smile in her contact picture flash across the screen.
“Hey Pen,” you answer, shifting in Spencer’s arms.
“Hiya gorgeous, are you both still wanting to have breakfast with us all? JJ, Emily and I have been trying to text you but I figured I’d just call.”
“Oh, sorry about that. I was, uh, a little busy.”
Spencer hums in amusement at your words, lips peppering your shoulder with kisses.
Penelope chuckles on the other end of the line.
“Guess that little white number I told you to get was worth it after all, huh?”
Your body heats at her words. “You have no idea.”
She laughs at that, and Spencer’s hand starts to trace your body again. He leans his head down to kiss your chest, playfully nipping at one of your breasts. You try to swat him away, but his mouth is already closing around a nipple. You inhale sharply and push him off gently. You glare at him, but he just smiles foolishly before innocently shrugging at you.
“Give us like thirty minutes to freshen up, and we’ll meet you all down for breakfast.”
“Sounds good, sweets. I’ll see you lovebirds soon!”
She hangs up before you can say anything else, and you groan as you toss your phone back on the nightstand.
“You know you have to behave yourself in front of everyone, right? I know they’re our friends, but we also work with them, Spencer,” you half-laugh-half-chastise him.
“You’re so hard to resist though, Mrs. Reid.”
You fawn over your new last name.
“At least try. For me.”
He kisses your forehead. “Anything for you.”
He sits up and stretches, and you gasp in horror as your eyes land on the red scratch marks that travel all the way down his back.
“What?” he asks, turning his head to look at you.
“I’m so sorry, Spence. Your back,” you whisper, trailing your fingertips over the red marks.
He tosses you a smirk. “Just means I did something right.”
You roll your eyes, tossing the sheets away from you before playfully throwing them his way. He heartily laughs at that, catching the sheets before flopping back down on the bed next to you, scooping you up into his arms.
You both wish at this moment that you could just stay in bed all day and order room service. You know you’ll have to face the impending doom—better known as the relentless teasing you know your friends have fired up for the both of you—sooner rather than later.
Even though your little bubble with just you and him being wrapped up in one another was short-lived and you have to face reality once again, you have comfort in knowing that you’re going out into the world as Spencer Reid’s wife.
As a sickeningly, maddingly, ardently in love married couple.
pairing: dbf!aaron hotchner/fem!reader
rating: explicit
w.c.: 10k....
a/n: dbf!hotch party ended months ago but im still here
summary:
You don't mean to start something with your dad's best friend during your summer break.
c.w.: 18+ MDNI PLSSSS, dbf!hotch yippee, no y/n, reader is mid-20s and hotch is mid 40s, kinda flirty/brat!reader, car sex, handjobs in car, v fingering, dom/sub, dirty talk, light degradation kink, size kink if u squint, light choking at the end!, unprotected sex, tbh some plot to mostly porn
read below or on ao3 here <3
You’re nearly half-naked when you first meet him.
It was the first morning back at home during your summer break in your first year of your Master’s program. You hadn’t been home in several months, blaming your rigorous coursework and the full-time job you had, but luckily you were able to use nearly a month’s worth of PTO to coincide with your summer off.
You had gotten in late after flying across the country, but your body still woke up like clockwork just before 9 am.
Currently, as you make eye contact with the tallest and most attractive man you have ever met while wearing a tank top and shorts that barely covered your ass, you couldn’t tell if that was a blessing or a curse.
You had heard your dad rave about what basically sounded like a crush he had over the phone for nearly a year. Aaron Hotchner apparently works with your father at the FBI, albeit in a different department, and they hit it off at a recent gala by discussing golf, expensive scotch, and being annoyed about the latest budget cuts. One Saturday at the country club’s golf course later, your father was hooked, and Aaron has been over at the house nearly every weekend since.
You remember your dad saying something about how he’s hardworking, better than he is at golf, and much nicer than he looks. He didn’t say anything about how hot he was.
You were stumbling out your bedroom and rubbing at your eyes when you had nearly run into him on the way to the bathroom. You’re still waking up, but you see the genuine surprise and something like want on his face before it’s gone, a neutral expression taking over his handsome features. The clench in his jaw betrays him.
“Excuse me,” he says. His voice is low, deep in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “I was just heading into the restroom.”
You blink at him, your mind still not having not caught up yet. “Uhm.”
“I can just go to the one downstairs,” he says, giving you an easy smile. It makes him look even more devastatingly attractive and you feel dazed. With that, he turns on his heel and makes his way back downstairs without another word.
You distantly hear your father downstairs calling your name and asking if you’re awake. You feel rooted to the spot, flustered.
You try your best to go through your normal bathroom routine, but your heart still hasn’t calmed down yet. It’s been a while since you’ve dated and even longer since you’ve slept with someone, thus you’ve had a lot of quality time with yourself recently, so seeing the way this older man reacted to you was enough to have you preening a bit. You weren’t imagining it, right?
You tell yourself that you’re feeling lazy after a long day of traveling and not wanting to change yet as you head downstairs into the kitchen, absolutely not hiking your shorts up a little and shimmying your tank top down.
“Good morning,” you chirp as you step into the kitchen. Your dad is already sitting at the dining table, most likely finishing his second cup of coffee, and his face lights up when he sees you as if he wasn’t the one to pick you up from the airport late last night. Aaron is standing in the kitchen next to the coffee machine, pouring into a travel mug.
You ignore the way you can feel Aaron’s dark eyes rove over you; the top of your breasts nearly threatening to spill out, your hard nipples poking through your top, and the curve of your ass peeking out from underneath your shorts.
“Morning, pumpkin,” your dad says cheerily, clearly oblivious to what’s going on between his friend and his own daughter. “This is Aaron, he works at the Bureau with me, I told you about him?”
You vaguely remember when you stalked through his Facebook profile several months ago after your father was tagged with him multiple times. The pictures of him were always blurry, never giving you anything to go off of.
As you stand next to him in the kitchen and crane your neck up to look at him, you realize the pictures really don’t do him justice. He’s handsome, almost boy-ish with the way his hair is clean and not gelled down like in the pictures, flopping in front of his forehead. He’s wearing a tight red polo, showcasing his broad shoulders and forearms in a way that makes you want to drool a bit. His brow is pinched, jaw tense, and you almost think you can hear his teeth grinding when he attempts to keep his eyes on your face and not on your chest.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hotchner,” you say, giving him an innocent smile. You ignore the mug your dad must have left on the counter for you and stand up on your tiptoes to retrieve one from the overhead cupboard.
You feel a rush of exhilaration when you hear Aaron suck in a breath at the way your tank top hikes up your stomach. When you turn back to him, because he is technically in the way of the coffee machine, you catch the way his eyes sharpen and the way his hand grasps at the edge of the counter, knuckles turning white.
And then it’s gone, just like earlier, replaced with something almost professional, probably the same expression he makes when something ticks him off at work.
Interesting.
“Aaron is fine,” he says, stepping out of the way of the coffee machine and then holds his hand out for you to shake.
You can feel your dad watching you, so you make an effort to tone it down a bit. You put your hand in his, swallowing when you notice just how large his hands are and the way he grips you a bit tighter than what would be considered professional. When you look back up at him, there’s something almost like a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Nice to meet you, Aaron,” you repeat. It’s worth it to see a smile grace his face, replacing that smirk, and causing something fuzzy settle in your chest.
When he lets go and makes his way to sit across your dad at the table, you ignore how your hand suddenly feels like it’s burning.
“We’re about to head to the golf course here in a couple of minutes if you wanted to join?” your dad asks as you pour your coffee and sit down at the head of the table.
You hum and experimentally kick your feet out in Aaron’s direction to where he sits to your left. You make contact with his knee, and you watch almost gleefully as Aaron just barely jumps in his seat. He doesn’t make eye contact with you, just quietly sips at his coffee. It really shouldn’t turn you on the way it does. “I’m okay, I was just planning on hanging out here and catch up on my shows.”
“You sure, pumpkin? I know it’s been a while since you were out on the course but…”
“I think that’s exactly why I shouldn’t come with you,” you laugh. You pull your chair up closer to the table, making it look like you were just trying to get comfortable, when really you just wanted to cop more of a feel of Aaron’s thighs.
“Alright, alright,” your father says, putting his hands up in defeat. “But don’t forget about the retreat later this week with the guys.”
You pause from where you were just about to dig your toes underneath his thigh. “Retreat?”
“I told you about it when I picked you up last night!”
“I think you forgot that you picked me up at one in the morning and I was half-asleep in the car,” you roll your eyes. “But of course I’ll go with you.”
“Great!” Your dad says with that big smile on his face that always makes you feel nostalgic. You don’t really want to go, was honestly just planning on relaxing at home, but if it makes your dad happy and you get to spend more time with him, then you’ll do almost anything.
And if Aaron’s coming too, then well…
Your dad gets up to put his mug in the sink and starts making his way out of the dining room. “You ready to go, Hotchner?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Aaron says, a barely detectable rasp to his voice that has you hiding a smile in your mug.
You’re about to put your foot down when you feel thick fingers circling your ankle and lifting your leg up until your ankle is resting on Aaron’s knee. You nearly squeak in surprise, but the look on Aaron’s face stops you.
He would look calm, composed even, if you didn’t pay attention to the way his eyes have darkened. His brow is pinched, lips pressed into a thin line, as he tightens his grip on your ankle and asks in a low voice “What kind of game are you playing here?”
Not expecting confrontation, you don’t know what to say. Your breath gets stuck in your chest, something about the glare he’s giving you keeps you rooted in your chair.
Because there’s really only two options here. He’s your dad’s best friend, at least 20 years older than you, and you really have no business in sexually riling up this guy you’ve never met before until today. You can apologize, give him a genuine and friendly smile, and go back to your room and pretend this never happened and you weren’t just throwing yourself at some hot older man.
But there’s something about Aaron that you can’t quite put your finger on. You wonder what it would be like to see him without those walls he undoubtedly keeps up all the time, see him come undone. You can tell from his Facebook pictures that he’s a bigshot of some kind, always wearing a fitted suit and not a hair out of place. You can see that now, in his pressed polo and matching belt, that he likes control, his skin nearly thrumming with it. And that’s something you’ve always enjoyed playing with.
You noticed the lack of a wedding ring on his finger, and the way he’s gazing into you now. The hot trail his hand leaves behind as he starts running up your shin, past your knee, and grip at the meat of your thigh says all you need to know.
“What game?” you say, innocently. You even play it up a bit by batting your lashes at him.
His grip on your thigh tightens, and it feels so good, and it’s been so long, you resist rolling your eyes back and instead spread your legs just a bit underneath the table.
“Your father didn’t tell me you were such a brat,” he mutters.
“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him,” you say, hoping you don’t sound as out of breath as you feel.
Aaron doesn’t say anything at that, just hums thoughtfully. You don’t have a chance to backpedal, redirect the conversation if you were reading the whole situation wrong, before he’s placing your leg back on the floor with a gentle hand on your ankle and getting up.
“We can talk more about what you want to do after school later,” he says, raising his voice a bit in an effort to appear like he wasn’t just groping you underneath the table.
You almost don’t hear what he says because your gaze is fixed on the obvious tent in his khakis. Your mouth nearly waters, and just knowing that you’re having the same kind of effect on him as he has on you has heat pooling between your thighs.
You shake your head, resisting the thoughts of throwing yourself on your knees in front of him and taking him in your mouth right in the dining room. You grin up at him and, in an impulsive decision that you’re secretly proud of, you reach over to put a hand on his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch.
“Absolutely, Mr. Hotchner.”
Your smile grows wider at the stormy glare he gives you before he heads out of the dining room, imperceptibly adjusting himself in his pants. Your eyes follow him out, cheeks nearly starting to hurt from how hard you’re smiling because damn, does his ass look good.
It’s your summer vacation, you may as well have some fun, right?
-
Since then, you’ve barely seen Aaron.
You had made Aaron and your father sandwiches, knowing they’d be home by the afternoon. You tried not to let the fact that you were upset, disappointed even, show on your face when your dad came home by himself and told you that Aaron got called for a case.
You knew from your dad that this was a normal occurrence for Aaron and that they’ve both gotten used to it. So many times there would be a gala or a party at the house and he would be called away to chase down a murderer or a rapist or a combination of the two.
You tried not to let it get to you, because seriously, you just met him, but also, it’s not like he owes you anything. But you really hoped that he wouldn’t miss the retreat later that week. Just imagining spending time with him in your lone hotel room was enough to make you dizzy.
So, you distracted yourself. You caught up on your emails, watched those shows that had been piling up in your watch later list, and spent time with your dad at the golf course or whatever else he wanted to do that day. It was nice spending your summer vacation with your dad and catching up on what he does at his boring administrative job and the lack of both of your love lives.
By the time Friday rolled around, there was still nothing but radio silence from Aaron, at least you assumed since your dad hadn’t mentioned him. You almost wish you had asked for his phone number before he left, but it wouldn’t have done you any good to waste a whole week sitting by your cellphone, waiting for a probably dry text from some guy.
A really hot, older guy that definitely has control issues and could toss you around like a ragdoll.
You’re throwing your bag in your car’s backseat and was about to admit defeat, that maybe he really wasn’t going to make it, when a black Range Rover comes skidding down your street and into your driveway.
“There he is,” your dad said in a sing-song voice, sounding about as giddy as you felt.
Your breath catches in your throat when you see him stepping out of his car, because how the hell is it possible for a man to look so attractive doing something so mundane?
And then your eyes nearly bug out because he has his suit jacket hanging from his arm, a duffel bag in the other, and is wearing a white dress shirt so tight that you could see the bulge of his biceps and the softness of his stomach.
“Sorry I’m late,” Aaron says, jogging up to where you and father were. “We just got back a couple hours ago.”
He looks at you then with those pretty brown eyes, looking genuinely apologetic, and the disappointment that you were afraid was going to take a permanent place in your chest gently unravels.
“It’s no problem, Hotch,” your dad waves him off. “We’re still waiting for some of the other guys, so you made it just in time.”
“Great,” Aaron breathes in relief. “I’m going to go change then, I’ll be right back.” His eyes flit towards you again, and you would’ve missed it if you weren’t still staring at him. They’re piercing, undoubtedly beckoning you to follow him, and there’s a hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth.
You feel a rush of excitement shooting through you as you watch him head towards the front door, eyes fixated on his hips. There was no clearer sign than that one, though you try not to roll your eyes fondly at the fact that your dad evidently did not notice as he goes back to playing Tetris with his bags in the trunk.
You wait a couple of minutes, pretending to play on your phone, and then exclaim “Oops, I almost forgot my phone charger! I’m going to run upstairs and get it.”
Your dad just gives an “Okie dokie, sweetie,” and then his phone rings with who you assume is one of his friends you’re waiting for.
You try to not sprint to the front door, instead taking a deep breath and walking in what you hope looks like a normal pace. However, as soon as the front door clicked shut, you run up the stairs, hoping Aaron chose your bathroom rather than the one downstairs.
Not spotting him waiting outside the bathroom, your heart nearly drops out from underneath you, however you notice the closed door and the soft golden light from underneath telling you that you were right.
You were right and maybe you weren’t imagining things. He knew you would listen to his unspoken instructions and follow him. You weren’t a profiler like him, not an expert at studying other people’s body language, but there was nothing fake about the fact that he got hard at your dining room table and you had only known each other for 10 minutes that Sunday.
The click of the door opening disrupts your thoughts. You’re about to grin up at Aaron, say something cute like how you’ve missed him or something more playful like asking why he hasn’t called you.
But you don’t get the chance because you’re suddenly being pressed up against the wall, warm hands on your hips, and Aaron’s soft mouth pressing into yours.
He swallows your gasp, his fingers inching up the hem of your tank top to touch the skin of your waist and kisses the life out of you. His lips are chapped and he tastes fresh, like he had a breath mint on the drive here, and the thought that he had that foresight just for you makes your knees weak.
He kisses you deeply, not even bothering to start gentle like so many other boys have tried before, and it’s overwhelming and not enough at the same time. You’re helpless to kiss back, your body finally catching up, and your hands come up to tangle at the soft strands at the nape of his neck.
He hums against your lips at that, his hands starting to move underneath your shirt to trace the swell of your breasts through your bra. It tickles, and you squirm a little and huff a laugh against his mouth before you can help it.
Before you could apologize and tell him to stop tickling you, his hands press your hips harder against the wall and his lips break away from yours. You attempt to chase him, because you were definitely not done making out, when Aaron tuts at you.
“Behave,” he warns lowly, but he has a full-blown smirk now. His eyes are dark, pupils blown, and his lips red and glistening. He looks so unbearingly sexy when he’s reprimanding you, he just makes it so easy for you to tease him.
“Or what?” You ask, smiling up at him. You watch as his smirk falters, brows furrowing, and something like frustration and exasperation blooms on his face.
“You’re ridiculous,” Aaron breathed, before he’s leaning in and pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jawline and down your neck. He scrapes his teeth against the spot where your shoulder and neck meets and your knees actually buckle this time, something like a strangled moan coming out of your mouth and catching you by surprise. “Looks like you do know how to watch that mouth of yours.”
Any snarky comeback you have dies in your throat because you did not expect Aaron to have that kind of dirty mouth on him. Molten heat starts to pool at the bottom of your stomach, between your thighs, as he slips the strap of your tank top down your shoulder to trace your collarbone with his lips.
“Aaron…,” you whisper, letting your hands fall from his nape to grab at his shoulders, trail down to grope at his biceps. The sleek muscle you can feel even through the fabric of his polo that he changed into, tensing and flexing as he pushes at you, sends your mind reeling.
“What is it, sweetheart?” he mutters against your shoulder, his warm breath and the pet name making you feel paralyzed. “Cat got your tongue?”
Your eyes roll back as you feel him biting a mark onto your chest, right underneath your collarbone, the pain and pleasure tingling all the way down to your cunt. You say something unintelligible, brain feeling muddled, because holy shit.
“Hey pumpkin, did your find your charger? We have to get moving!” You hear your dad’s voice from downstairs and barely swallow back a gasp before Aaron’s hand is pressed over your mouth to quiet you. You hate that that does absolutely nothing to help the growing arousal between your thighs.
Aaron’s eyes meet yours. His eyes have gotten impossibly darker, soft hair falling against his forehead. The wild desire and excitement are clear on his face, but he raises his eyebrows at you to signal you to behave before he lifts his palm off your face.
“Coming!” you yell back at him, hoping the strain in your voice isn’t as obvious to him as it is to you.
Aaron hums, something smug playing at his lips. “Maybe later.”
And it’s ridiculous. Aaron Hotchner, stoic Unit Chief of an FBI unit, best friend of your dad, and 20 years older than you just made out with you so hard that your knees buckled and made a joke about making you come?
You huff a laugh, pushing at his shoulder so you can wriggle out of his grip. He lets go immediately, stepping back to give you several feet of space, and you try not to think about how you already miss the heat and weight of his body against yours.
You’re about to run downstairs, an excuse about realizing you already packed your charger on the tip of your tongue, when Aaron is circling his fingers around your wrist. You look back at him curiously, because as much as you want to, there definitely isn’t time for him to ravage you in your bedroom.
He looks much more composed now, more like his professional SSA Aaron Hotchner self, but you catch the way his eyes linger on the way your shorts ride up high and the soft expanse of your thighs. “I’m serious. We’ll finish this later.”
And it’s the way he doesn’t pose it as a question, but rather a guarantee. Like nothing is going to stop him from having his way with you.
The thought of being completely at Aaron’s mercy has you breathless, feeling a flush rise on your face and your pulse between your legs. He has you stunned speechless, because you’ve never been with someone who has made you feel complete and utter want. You look at him now, chest imperceptibly heaving and making that olive green polo tug across the wide expanse of his chest, you realize that he may just ruin other people for you completely.
Your throat clicks when you clear it, and you only feel a little embarrassed when Aaron doesn’t hide his smirk at you. All words have died in your throat, so you nod instead, hoping that he will take that as an answer.
If possible, Aaron looks even more smug at that.
“Good girl.”
-
The drive to the hotel where the retreat is being held is only 2 hours away, which would’ve been perfectly easy, if you weren’t stuck in the car with Aaron.
You were planning on driving your own car with the top down, wind in your hair, and music blasting. You wanted to spend at least part of your summer vacation doing girly summery things, such as driving into the night with your hair whipping your face and feeling the humidity making your tank top stick to your back.
You also thought you would have time to yourself to think about Aaron and what the hell you got yourself into.
Instead, because you can’t tell if the universe loves or hates you, you have to take Aaron’s Range Rover because everyone else’s cars are packed full, and your dad wouldn’t let you drive by yourself. You tried not to show the excitement bloom on your face when your dad told you, but by the pointed look that Aaron gave you, you didn’t do a very good job.
So, it’s just you, Aaron, and the incredibly tangible sexual tension between you.
The first 30 minutes was easy. It took a while for everyone to find the correct route and there was a lengthy discussion over the phone about whether anyone wanted to stop anywhere for any reason. Eventually, you and at least 4 other similarly lavish cars made it onto the highway.
Aaron was silent for most of the phone call, saying that he didn’t have anywhere he wanted to stop at, and was just looking forward to the fancy clawfoot tub the hotel advertised on their website. You threw a glance at him at that, wondering if he was trying to tell you that he wanted to fuck in the bathtub, but nope. His eyes were firmly on the road, both arms on the steering wheel like a responsible adult or whatever.
You weren’t sure how he was able to act like nothing happened—like you weren’t about to let him just fuck you up against the wall in your childhood home, because currently, you felt like you were about to jump out of your skin from the nervous energy thrumming through you.
You fully ogle him now since it’s not like you have anything to hide. Even his side profile is attractive, but at this point you’re not surprised. Everything you’ve been noticing about him has been steadily driving you wild; the sharp cut of his jaw, the faint traces of stubble, and the way his hands are gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white.
You watch the bob of his Adam’s apple as he deadpans “You’re staring.”
You grin at him before you could help it. “It’s not my fault you’re so handsome. They should study you in art classes, maybe you can even get naked for it?”
The snort that comes out of Aaron’s mouth is sudden, and by the way his eyebrows pinch together like he’s thinking hard, he notices as well. “You really are insatiable.”
“You say that like we’ve even done anything yet,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, turning your head to the window to stare at the sun setting. It would be nighttime by the time you got to the hotel, but you’re already sleepy and debating taking a nap while Aaron drives.
You jump when you feel his hand on your thigh, large and warm. You’ve had other men put their hand on your thigh while they drive and it’s nice, maybe even comforting at times, but with Aaron, the action feels darker. It feels more possessive, heated, and just the sight of his huge hand squeezing the flesh of your thigh has you unconsciously squeezing your legs, trapping the tips of his fingers between them.
“Can you behave?” he wondered out loud. “Because you’re not showing me that you can until we get to the hotel.”
The challenge is clear in the deep timbre of his voice, nearly condescending in a way that makes your breath quicken. You vaguely thought about what he had planned for you at the hotel, luckily you had a whole room to yourself since none of your dad’s friends’ daughters wanted to come. You don’t necessarily blame them—you probably wouldn’t have come either if it weren’t for Aaron and the undoubtable promise that you will have the best sex of your life.
And you do want to wait, honestly. But right now, watching the way his biceps flex in the golden light and remembering the way he desperately grabbed at your hips has you rethinking.
So, you give him an innocent smile, reminiscent of the one you gave him earlier this week, and take a hold of his hand to intertwine your fingers together. The action is slightly risky, implying something about your relationship that neither have you discussed. You may be overthinking it, worried that Aaron would think you’re jumping to conclusions, but all of your reservations disappear when Aaron’s hand squeezes yours and brings your joined hands to rest in his lap.
He gives you a soft smile, one you’ve never seen before that makes your chest tighten, and turns his gaze back on the road.
The following 10 minutes are quiet besides the soft roar of the engine and the gentle hum of the radio. The sun setting washes the interior of the car with a warm gold, and you can’t help but notice the way both of your hands, still clasped together, just look so good together. Like you perfectly complemented each other.
You blame it on the fact that you’re starting to get bored when you wiggle your hand to free yourself from Aaron’s grasp to run your fingers along the top of his hands. You trace each knuckle before tracking the visible veins with a light touch, your fingers running up his wrist and to his forearm. The dusting of hair is soothing when you place a firmer hand onto his forearm, gripping it, and your heart thuds in your chest when you notice your thumb and middle finger can’t even touch each other.
He's just so big. His arms, his hands, his shoulders. The way he can so easily overpower you, manhandle you, domineering in a way that makes you want to act out even more just to see what he would do.
He throws you a curious glance when your hand moves up to his bicep, squeezing and feeling.
“Just touching,” you say, and then Aaron’s eyes are back on the road.
The next thing you do is completely spontaneous, out of character for you even, however you know being impulsive is what got you here in the first place.
You place your hand on his crotch.
He doesn’t jump because, of course not. If anything, he was expecting it by the way he just gives you another curious look. Your eyes are instantly drawn to the way his tongue flicks out to wet his lips and the sudden clenching of his jaw.
“Still just touching,” you repeat and turn your focus to your phone with your free hand, leaving your other hand in his lap.
You scroll mindlessly through several different apps for a couple minutes, not even reading anything because you’re too stunned with the fact that Aaron didn’t say anything or remind you to be on your best behavior. Your hand is still precariously placed on his crotch, the seam of his jeans warm against the palm of your hand.
You start scrolling more intently now, reading the entirety of at least every other post, before you start tentatively rubbing your fingers on where you can definitely feel the head of his dick through his pants. Aaron inhales sharply, so quietly you almost don’t hear it, and it’s all the permission you need.
You start pressing more firmly, grabbing him through his jeans to the best of your ability and tracing the line of his slowly hardening cock through the rough material. You grope at him, nearly shamelessly now, and it takes all of your willpower to not throw your phone to the backseat and jump into his lap.
Instead, you place your phone at your feet and turn your body towards him. His back is ramrod straight and his hands are grasping at the steering wheel like his life depends on it. If anyone passing by looked through the window, they would just assume that Aaron was one of those extremely attentive drivers. However, up close, you can see the tense line of his jaw, the way his brows are pinched together, and the way he’s attempting to hide the way he’s starting to breathe heavily through slightly parted lips.
It's intoxicating, and you want more.
Your hand begins to move up his zipper to the top button of his jeans. His eyes dart to you then, craning his neck slightly to look at you but also making sure to keep his eyes on the road, as if the road is even that busy.
“You really can’t listen, can you?”
That condescending tone again makes your brain nearly short-circuit. It’s like a dam breaks because suddenly you’re leaning over the console, making your breasts nearly spill out from your tank top, and you want him in your mouth and coming down your throat if it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. “Can I?”
“Can you what, sweetheart? Use your words.”
Christ. “Please, can I suck on your cock?”
He hums nonchalantly, as if you can’t see the way he shifts in his seat or the way he’s hurriedly unbuttoning his jeans with one hand. “’Please?’ Looks like you do have some manners.”
And then he’s taking his cock out and you nearly combust on the spot. He’s not fully hard, but you still want nothing more than to feel him on your tongue.
You’re just about to unbuckle your seatbelt to throw yourself into his lap before he stops you by placing his hand over yours.
“Not your mouth, we don’t want other people to know what a dirty girl you are. Use your hands,” he says, nonchalant again in a way that makes your heart race and the ache between your thighs grow.
Although the idea of being caught with your head in his lap and cock down your throat suddenly sounds extremely appealing in a way you’ve never thought of before, you have no choice but to listen and follow his instructions.
You hesitatingly wrap your hand around him, watching in near fascination at the drop of precum that leaks out. He’s big here too, satisfyingly thick and warm in your hand. You move your hand up to smear the wetness around him and then start a steady rhythm of pumping his cock.
A strangled groan comes out of Aaron eventually, and you watch as he attempts to throw his head back in ecstasy while still watching the road with half-lidded eyes. The wide expanse of his pretty throat tempts you, imagining what it would be like to pepper kisses up to his tense jaw to help him relax.
He’s fully hard now, precum steadily leaking out and coating the palm of your hand. You attempt to vary your actions; twisting on the upstroke, squeezing when you’re at the base, or tracing your thumb against the head of his cock. The loud squelching noise makes you feel embarrassed and hot all at the same time, the way it’s drowning out the radio’s music. Your mouth waters as you watch the head of his dick disappear in your fist, wishing you could taste him or see the sheer bliss on his face as he fucks your mouth.
“You couldn’t even wait to get your hands on me, could you?” Aaron murmured, nearly sneering at you. “I bet if I let you, you would let me pull over and fuck you here on the side of the road.”
You swallow nervously, clenching your thighs and trying to ignore the obvious wetness you can feel in your own panties. You squeeze him harder, enthralled by the feeling of his hot flesh against you, and breathlessly whisper “I would.”
He hisses at that, nearly bucking his hips up to follow your hand. “You would let me fuck you anywhere I want.”
It wasn’t a question, but you still feel compelled to answer. “Yes.”
Just then, Aaron’s phone rings from the phone mount on the dashboard. Dread and something awfully similar to delight prickles at the back of your neck when you notice the caller ID being your father. You’re about to retract your hand until Aaron gives you a look out of the corner of your eye, almost like a glare, before his own hand is hot over yours to keep you there.
“Keep going.”
Before you can think of a snarky remark, Aaron swipes at his phone to answer.
“Hotchner.” Nonchalant, casual, as if he doesn’t have his leaking cock in the hands of his best friend’s daughter.
“Hey Hotch, we’re coming up on a great burger joint here in a couple of miles and I wanted to see if you guys were alright with that? I think we lost you.”
You must have been extremely distracted because you’re just now noticing you can’t see your father’s car ahead of you anymore. There are only a few cars on the highway now after finally passing all the city traffic, now driving through a somewhat rural area. You don’t blame yourself after all, because how often do you find yourself giving handjobs to hot older men in their cars?
“I was actually thinking of pulling over at a rest stop, someone’s not feeling well.” Aaron cranes his neck, raising an eyebrow at you.
Even in the darkness of the summer evening and the sparse streetlights bouncing off the dashboard, the pure and primal desire swimming in his eyes is clear and causes a flush to rise to your face.
“Yeah, it must have been lunch,” you attempt to joke, hoping that the rasp in your voice doesn’t give you away. You feel Aaron’s cock twitch in your hand.
Your dad hums through the tinny speakers. “Yeah, you don’t sound so good.”
You notice the car slowing down, not realizing that you were pulling up to a secluded area of a rest stop, right underneath a tree. You glance out the window and take in the fact that the nearest car is over 10 spots away and the closest streetlight is burnt out. You think of the discreet dark color of the car and the tinted windows. Anticipation curls at the bottom of your stomach.
“We’ll let you know when we’re back on the road.” And then Aaron immediately hangs up, parks the car, and leans over the console to kiss you with a hand cradling your cheek.
He cuts to the chase again, kissing you so deeply that your head spins. His mouth is soft but he’s assertive even like this. His hand moves to the back of your neck, taking a hold of you, and your mouth opens in a moan before you can stop yourself, allowing Aaron’s tongue to brush against yours.
When he pulls back, something like a needy whine erupts from your throat. You don’t realize that your hands moved to grasp at his polo, leaving Aaron’s cock free and pressed against his stomach.
“You drive me crazy,” Aaron mutters, brushing a lock of hair behind your head. His gesture and words are impossibly soft, a complete contrast to how he was kissing you, making your breath stutter in your chest.
“You drive me crazy,” you whisper breathily. “Please fuck me?”
He huffs a laugh at that, something you’re slowly starting to become familiar with, and tightens his hold on the back of your neck. There’s nothing soft in his eyes anymore. “Get in the back, now.”
You scramble to get out of the car, legs nearly shaking. The summer humidity is cloying, suffocating, and you rush to open the door to crawl in the backseat.
The seats are just as large and plush as up front, however there’s definitely more foot room that you’re sure Aaron will appreciate. You’re waiting in the middle seat, legs tucked underneath you, as you watch Aaron tuck himself back into his jeans and step out of the car with an air of nonchalance that somehow makes him even more attractive.
When he opens the door to climb into the back, your eyes meet and you suddenly feel frozen to the spot, because he starts to encroach into your space, nearly predatory. There’s a glint in his eyes as he places his hand on your back, lowering you so you’re laying on the seats. You unconsciously spread your legs so he could situate himself between them, and the feeling of his large and warm body between your thighs has you hitching them up on his hips.
“You don’t know how long I’ve been thinking about this,” Aaron murmurs before ducking his head to press his mouth against your jawline, down your neck, and finally finally sucking a mark where your shoulder meets.
You exhale a shaky moan, bringing your hands up to run down his back and feel how wide his shoulders are and how you can feel his muscles tense as he moves. The wet heat of his mouth, his obscenely large hands on your hips, and the way his figure nearly engulfs you is mesmerizing.
He pulls back to take a look at you, thumb coming up to press into the mark he made and putting light pressure against your neck. There’s something wild and possessive in his eyes, his lips parted like he can’t believe what’s happening. “There you go. Now you’ll remember who you belong to.”
It feels like your breath is knocked out of you and replaced with something equally possessive. “Are you going to fuck me or what?”
Something dark passes over his face. “And here I thought you were going to behave.”
Before you could say anything, Aaron is swiftly lifting your tank top up and over your head, throwing it somewhere towards the passenger seat, and groping your tits. He thumbs at your nipples, watching in awe as you arch your back and push your chest further into his hands. The sudden sensation, pleasure zinging up your spine, after being teased for an entire week is dizzying and you want to drown in it.
“You’re so needy for it, aren’t you?” Aaron says, casually, as he pinches at your nipples. You choke on your moan, the initial sting melting into pleasure that makes you feel drunk. “You’re practically begging for my cock.”
“Yes,” you manage to gasp out. Your hands scramble at his shoulders, running up to tangle the soft hairs at the nape of his neck between your fingers. “I need your cock inside me.”
He leans down to suck one of your nipples in his mouth, deft fingers continuing on the other. His mouth is so deliciously wet and hot, expertly licking around you in a way that’s slowly unraveling you, and you shiver when you think about where else his mouth can be of use. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head and you cant your hips up desperately in an effort to gain some sort of friction against the nearly overbearing ache between your thighs.
His hands come down to press your hips down in an effort to make you stop squirming and you feel him shift until his knee is pressing between your legs and against your pussy through your shorts. The feeling of his warm hands on you and the seam of your shorts rubbing against your clit causes an embarrassingly high-pitched whine to escape your throat.
“You’re teasing me,” you pant, tugging at his hair experimentally.
Another raspy groan erupts from Aaron and, if possible, you feel hotter. His mouth detaches from your nipple and you instantly miss the hot heat of his mouth, until he says “And what if I want to taste that pretty little cunt of yours?”
Imagining Aaron pressing open-mouthed kisses against your thighs, breathing hotly against your panties until he’s pressing his tongue against you, smearing even more wetness around until you’re nearly dripping onto the expensive upholstery has you whimpering. Your mind races as you imagine him pulling your panties aside so he can press his soft mouth against you, licking and lapping at your pussy like you’re a five-course meal, sucking on your clit until you’re screaming his name and begging him to stop.
No words come out, mind nearly melted just at the thought of Aaron looking up at you from between your thighs and his mouth on your cunt. Instead, you let out a breathless moan and attempt to grind down against Aaron’s knee, chasing the little stimulation you can get.
Aaron licks his lips as he watches you, eyes dark and predatory. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” His thumbs briefly traces your hips, and you nearly miss the tender touch, before he’s hooking them into the waistband of your shorts and tugs them down. “But we don’t have time for that, so I’m just going to fuck that needy pussy of yours.”
It took quite a bit of wriggling and Aaron hitting his head against the roof of the car to get your shorts and panties off of you, and you’re about to joke that this was an exercise in of itself, until Aaron is settling back between your legs with his own legs crammed underneath him. You suddenly realize Aaron is still wearing all of his clothes, polo wrinkled and pants hanging loosely at his hips, while you’re completely naked and vulnerable, desperate and needy like he said.
His fingers dance across the soft expanse of your thighs until he presses a finger against you, so close to where you need him. You breathe unsteadily and have to close your eyes, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, when Aaron gently grazes between your folds. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me, honey. Is this all for me?”
You nod rapidly and push your hips down in an effort to tell him to hurry the fuck up.
Aaron tuts at you. “What did I say about using your words?” And then he’s forgoing your clit completely and pressing a thick finger inside.
You gasp, eyes shooting open and meeting his from where he’s watching your face so intently it would’ve been intimidating if you didn’t feel white-hot pleasure take over your body. “Yes, I’m wet, just for you,” you rush out.
He hums, satisfied. “Just for me, right?” He begins thrusting his finger inside of you, and the feeling of being filled and something finally happening has you arching your back against him again, soft whines escaping your mouth before you can help it. The lewd noises from your sopping pussy rings out in the small space of the car, jarring, but it just makes you feel hotter.
“Yes, yes, yes,” you babble, attempting to rut your hips down to meet his thrusts, steadily growing in pace. Your hand shoots down to take ahold of his forearm, nearly distracted at the veins popping out, when you feel a second finger prodding at you. “Please just fuck me already, I’m ready.”
You watch Aaron’s mouth form what has to be a reprimand, scolding you for being so desperate, but then it closes and forms into something softer even as his gaze is fixated on his thick fingers thrusting in and out of your pussy. He leans in and kisses you before you realize, just a soft press of his lips against yours. When he pulls back, he’s still wearing a faint smile, and tucks a stray strand of your hair behind an ear. It’s all so painstakingly affectionate, you feel at a loss for words again but for a completely different reason you can’t name.
“How can I say no to you?” he mutters, almost to himself, and it shocks you to your core.
He doesn’t wait for a response and pulls out a condom from his back pocket. You watch as he’s about to tear the foil packet open, thoughts turning over and over in your head, before you exclaim “It’s fine, I’m on the pill.”
He pauses and stares at you, serious based off the pinch of his brows. “Are you sure? I don’t mind…”
“I’m sure,” you say, throwing your arms around his neck so you can run your fingers through his hair. And you are absolutely sure, confident, because you know the cherry on top of this whole experience would be feeling his cock spill in your pussy and filling you up. “I want to feel you.”
You watch as he groans, closes his eyes, and leans his forehead against yours, staring at the flutter of his long eyelashes. “You are killing me, sweetheart.”
You let out a breathless laugh. “Are you kidding me? I can say the same for you.”
Because if you thought Aaron looked good wearing a suit in those blurry pictures on Facebook, it doesn’t even compare to how he looks now. His polo tightly stretched over his shoulders, slightly disheveled from where you were grabbing onto him, belt unbuckled and pants hanging deliciously half-open from his hips, and hair tousled, the gel maintaining his professional appearance giving way to make him look younger. He’s so unbelievably hot you almost believe you’re dreaming.
You watch as he pushes his jeans and boxers down enough to where his cock pops out, the head a sympathetic dark red from where he must’ve been achingly hard this entire time. Before you make another attempt to have him in your mouth, he’s pushing in, stretching you deliciously open and making you grip harder at the hair at his nape.
“Fuck, you’re still so tight for me,” Aaron grunts, his hands flying to grasp onto your hips.
Although you can feel him sink into you, inch by inch, you’re mesmerized by the sharp focus on his face, the pinch in his brow and eyes clenched shut. As if he’s trying not to throw away all abandon and pound into you, and the thought is so intoxicating it makes your head spin.
“Oh my god,” you mumble. He bottoms out, his cock finally pushed all way in your pussy, and he’s much bigger, thicker, than you realized. It feels so, so good—being filled up with his hard cock, his hips pressing against your thighs as they splay out the way you’ve been dreaming of for the past week.
“You okay?” Aaron asks, gentle again, and before you could answer, he’s pulling back and thrusting back into you.
A gasp wretches out of you and your hands scramble at his back, pulling him down because you need him to be closer, need his large body pushing down on you and making you take him.
He lets you, giving you a mockingly sympathetic look, and leans down to press an open-mouthed kiss against your jawline. He starts a steady rhythm then—thrusting in and out of you and knocking the breath out of you. “You’re going to take my fat cock, baby? I know you’ve been begging for it all week; you need it so bad, don’t you?”
Jesus Christ.
Words escape you again, instead, your mouth hangs open as you attempt to nod in response. Even though the car’s AC was blasting, you were covered in sweat and sliding up the seats with every thrust of Aaron’s hips. You definitely weren’t complaining, probably wouldn’t even be able to because sounds you didn’t even know you were capable of making kept coming out of you, eyes nearly permanently rolled back in your head. It felt so good, you didn’t think fucking could ever feel this good, but Aaron continues to exceed expectations.
You hitch your legs up his hips higher and let out a high-pitched whine at the change in angle, hot pleasure zinging up your spine. Aaron grunts, something dark and masculine that makes you preen, and his hips start snapping harder, faster.
“Look at you,” he murmurs lowly right into your ear. “Being fucked so good you can’t even speak.”
He shifts again, hands hooking underneath your thighs and, with your nod, presses your knees to your chest until they’re next to your ears, legs dangling over his shoulders. You wrap your arms around your thighs, holding them in place, and your eyes nearly roll back into your head when Aaron’s cock slides even deeper into your cunt with a wet sound. He feels heavenly, even despite not having touched your clit at all.
He fucks you relentlessly and you think your brain has melted out of your ears because you just take it. The sound of his skin slapping against yours, the litany of groans and praises that fall from his lips, and your nonstop whimpering gasps is heady. You don’t even care if you can’t come just from him rutting into you alone, it feels too fucking good.
He sits back up, not once breaking his brutal pace, and makes unwaveringly intense eye contact with you. “My beautiful girl takes my cock so well, making such pretty noises. I can’t wait to fill this pussy up with my come.”
You really did not expect Aaron to have the dirty mouth he does, but again, you’re not complaining. Instead, you bring one of your arms down to snake between your thighs where you’re absolutely soaked in your combined wetness and sweat to circle your clit. The added stimulation, finally, has your thighs shaking and your pussy clenching around him. You squirm a bit, because his belt buckle has started to dig into you from where his pants are pooling around his knees, but you’re suddenly so close.
“Fuck, Aaron…”
He licks his lips at that, starts to fuck into you faster somehow. He knocks your hand aside to replace with his own and you absolutely mewl when you feel the rough callous of his thumb gently circling your clit, impossibly slow. “Is my good girl going to come? You’re going to come all over my cock, sweetheart?”
Your heart is pounding in your ears, and you can barely detect the strain in Aaron’s voice, like he’s close too. “Yes, yes, please,” you stutter, feeling your gut tighten and sweat breaking out on the back of your neck. “Harder.”
Aaron lets out a shaky laugh. “Since you asked so nicely.”
And then he’s rubbing your clit mercilessly, almost too rough if your nerves weren’t already so close to snapping. You let out a string of strangled whines, your hands coming up to hold onto Aaron’s free arm for dear life. You’re so wet that his fingers just glide over you, the wet noises of him fucking into you getting you hotter, making the coil in your stomach wind tighter, but it’s still not enough.
You watch with half-lidded eyes as Aaron lifts his right hand from where he was definitely leaving bruises on your hip to place at the base of your throat. Your eyes widen but you don’t stop him because the feeling sends your mind spinning, realizing that you have placed so much trust in this man and he’s thoughtful enough to care for you, treasure you, and fuck you so hard he’s definitely ruined you for anyone else.
His eyes are impossibly dark, hair falling into his face, and you meet his gaze unblinkingly as he puts light pressure on your throat. “Come for me.”
You don’t know if it’s the hand on your neck, his cock frantically fucking into you, or the soft baritone of his voice that has you pushing over the edge. You come with a choked gasp of his name, hips and thighs shaking almost uncontrollably. You swear your vision whites out because you don’t think you’ve ever come so hard in your fucking life.
You distantly hear Aaron grunt your name, feel him fuck into you desperately and erratically. He lets go of your throat, you secretly already miss the weight of his hand, and he clutches at your hips as he chases his own orgasm. It doesn’t take long for his hips to stutter, coming into you with a guttural moan that sends a shiver down your back. He grinds his hips into you, like he’s making sure he’s giving you every last drop he has, and the thought has you whimpering.
You stay like that as both of you catch your breath. Your thighs and hips are starting to ache uncomfortably, pussy sore in a way where you know you’ll be feeling it tomorrow, but you watch the way Aaron runs his hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes so he can lean in to kiss you, and it’s all worth it.
He pulls out slowly, dick twitching half-way inside of you when you moan at the empty feeling. You feel his come instantly start to drip out of you and onto the seats, and the dangerous glint in Aaron’s eyes has you squirming, heat licking up your back.
“Are you okay?” he asks, leaning over to open the console and hopefully rummage around for a hidden towel. You hope he doesn’t pull out old and scratchy fast-food napkins like the ones you have crammed in your glove compartment.
You laugh breathlessly, slowly dropping your legs down to dangle a bit more comfortably. “More than okay.”
He comes back with a pouch of wet wipes, slightly used, and you’re surprised at the sudden twinge of jealousy you feel when you imagine why he has wet wipes ready in his car and how many other women he’s fucked in his expensive car.
He’s thorough in cleaning you up, chest rapidly rising and falling as he continues to catch his breath. As if he can read your mind, he looks up at you curiously with no trace of the stern persona he had when he was fucking you mindlessly. You had thought you hid your jealousy well, however you find yourself glaring at the wipes in his hand.
He gives you an achingly sweet smile, a surprise dimple making an appearance, and leans over you where you’re still sweating all over his backseat. “Every parent has wet wipes in their car.”
You feel your cheeks heat at being caught, that he somehow knew you were drowning in the sudden onslaught of jealousy clawing up your chest. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.” He throws the used wipes on the floor to pick up later, and then he’s wrestling around with you until you’re somehow laying on top of him across the seats, both of your legs bunched up and tangled together.
You’re sticky and sweaty, and Aaron has nearly sweated through his polo, causing it to cling to his chest in a way that has you wanting to put your hands all over him. So, you do, running your palms up and down him so intently that it gets a chuckle out of him.
“All of your clothes are still on.”
“Well, I was a little busy.” Oh, he’s a little cheeky after sex.
Both of you are laying in comfortable silence as you still catch your breaths, Aaron moreso than you, when his phone goes off where it hasn’t moved from the phone mount. The bright light causes you to squint, and you turn to press your face into Aaron’s chest with a whine. “Don’t pick up.”
“Alright, alright,” Aaron says despite him making no moves anyway to get up. He cranes his neck to get a good look at the caller ID and you can feel his body stiffen. “It’s your dad.”
And just like that, a bucket of cold water is splashed over you. You just had sex with your dad’s best friend in his expensive Range Rover in some sketchy rest stop.
You must have froze as well because then Aaron is running a hand up and down your back, making you shiver. He’s trying to comfort you, you know that, but honestly your thoughts immediately melt into other things that rely on his hands on you. Like pushing your head down between his legs. Maybe he’s right and you really are insatiable.
“Come on, let’s get going.”
-
The car ride the rest of the way to the hotel is mostly silent between you two, the only noises being the wind deafening you and your hair slapping into your face since he rolled the windows down.
To air out the stench of sex in the car, you remember.
You would almost think Aaron was mad, the way he didn’t try to make conversation with you, and you knew that you would be spiraling if it wasn’t for the fact that he held your hand in his lap the entire time.
You probably wouldn’t be much for conversation anyway—you’re already trying not to let your mind race about what you were going to do.
You’re only here for a couple of weeks, you go to school across the country, and technically, this was only supposed to be a summer fling. You don’t technically need to tell your dad about what happened.
You turn to look at Aaron, unabashedly. His hair is still tussled, thanks to your fingers, and there’s sweat beading along his forehead from the summer humidity. You stare at the sharp slope of his nose, the way the lights from the highway reflect in his dark eyes, and you’re suddenly wracked with the feeling of not wanting to let him go.
He squeezes your hand when he notices you staring for too long. He turns to you, most likely seeing the desperation on your face. He misinterprets it, thinking you’re running over what you’re going to tell your father over and over in your head. He has no idea that you want to keep seeing him, that you want to make this work somehow, whatever is between you two.
“We’ll figure it out.”
When you notice his gentle smile, the methodical way he runs his thumb over the back of your hand, you believe him.
summary: Eddie Munson is your good friend and study buddy for sociology. when he mistakes the novel you're reading for your sociology textbook, you get a more...hands on approach to learning about power dynamics.
wc: 7.2k
order up: college!au, friends to lovers, d/s dynamics, jealousy, confessions
tw: explicit smut, p in v unprotected, d/s dynamics, use of petnames [princess, sweetheart, baby, honey, guys a whole mess of honorifics], spanking, eddie eats pussy because of course he does, ropeplay mention
a/n: hi hi hi, i have so many eddie requests in my inbox and while he isn't my brainrot rn, i really hope you guys enjoy this one because i loved writing it.
masterlist
Your dorm room felt smaller during midterms.
Books everywhere. Highlighters bleeding through thin pages. Half-drunk cans of cola sweating onto your desk because you kept forgetting they existed.
Eddie Munson was sprawled across the floor on his stomach, boots kicked off, rings tapping idly against his soda can as he flipped through his notes.
“You’re overthinking it,” he said for the third time, pushing his hair out of his face. “The professor literally said the theme was power dynamics. That’s, like, my whole brand.”
You shot him a look from your desk chair. “It's not a campaign metaphor, Munson.”
“Everything is a campaign metaphor,” he countered.
There was a comfortable rhythm to this.
You quizzing him. Him derailing you.
It was easy, being like this. Friends who studied together. Friends who argued about symbolism. Friends who definitely did not think too hard about the way the other stuck his tongue out a little when he concentrated.
Eddie groaned dramatically and rolled onto his back. “I need a different book. The one with the red tabs. It’s on your bed, I think.”
Your stomach dropped.
Because yes, there was a book with red tabs on your bed.
But it was not the sociology textbook.
It was tucked half beneath your comforter, face-down, like it had tried to hide itself at the last second. Black cover. Embossed lettering. A very intentional ropework design worked into cover in a way that was… not subtle.
You opened your mouth.
“Wait—”
Too late.
Eddie was already on his feet, crossing the room in three lazy steps, reaching down to grab the book from your bed before you could physically launch yourself at him to stop it. His fingers curled around the spine, and he lifted it casually, flipping it over—
—and froze.
"This is... not your sociology textbook." He says, eyes wide as he flips through the pages.
Your blood ran cold. It was a specific, visceral feeling, like an ice cube sliding down your spine.
Everything faded to a dull roar in your ears. The only thing that existed was Eddie, standing there, holding the single most damning object you owned.
He didn’t flip through it with shock or disgust. There was no theatrical recoil. Instead, his thumb brushed against the pages with a strange, focused curiosity. His eyes, wide and dark, weren't judging; they were reading. Absorbing.
He finally looked up, but not at you. His gaze landed on the open textbook on your desk, red tabs that marked actual academics and not fantasies.
A slow, disarming smile started at the corner of his mouth, one that you’d seen a hundred times after a good roll of the D20.
“Y’know,” he said, his voice a low, conspiratorial rumble that felt like it vibrated right through the floorboards. “This… is a much more practical application of power dynamics than our textbooks.”
Your throat was dry.
"Thats not funny, Eddie." You turn, face red. "Give it back."
He tilted his head, studying your blush as intently as he'd studied the book. He didn't move to give it back.
"I promise you, my porn stash is way more embarrassing than this." He waved the book around a little. "At least yours has literary merit."
"It's not porn!" you shot back, your voice a little too loud in the small space. "It's research!"
The excuse sounded flimsy even to your own ears.
Eddie's smile widened. "Research," he repeated, testing the word on his tongue. "For what? Your dissertation on rope burns?"
He was teasing you, but it wasn't cruel. It was… interested. He wasn't making fun of you. He was engaging. He held the book out, not quite close enough for you to snatch back.
"This shit isn't even accurate," he said, tapping a page. "This is all showmanship. They forgot the most important part."
You blinked, confusion warring with humiliation. "What part?"
"The conversation." His eyes met yours, and for a second, the teasing faded. There was something serious there. Something intense but inherently safe.
"Well, the conversation isn't the sexy part." You mutter.
"Oh so you're admitting it's porn now?" He smirks and you narrow your eyes. "And also... the conversation is definitely the sexy part," he added, stepping closer. "It's the whole point."
You held your ground, even though every instinct screamed at you to snatch the book, throw him out, and crawl into a hole for the rest of eternity. Instead, you lifted your chin. "You think so?"
"I'm well versed, yeah."
He finally lowered the book, setting it down on your desk, on top of your sociology textbook. The juxtaposition was dizzying. Academia and anarchy. Theory and practice.
He took another step into your personal space. Close enough that you could smell the faint scent of the joint he smoked outside.
"I'm going to guess you haven't put this into practice yet," he said softly.
You couldn't answer. The lie was stuck in your throat. Because he was right. The book, the fantasies—they'd always been in your head. A private world.
A world he had just stumbled into.
"So tell me," he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, looking you directly in the eye. "Is it something you only like in fiction or would you like to learn it for real?"
He waited.
And the silence that followed was the loudest thing you'd ever heard.
His question hung in the air between you, shimmering and dangerous.
Is it something you only like in fiction or would you like to learn it for real?
It was a test. A doorway. A chance to step out of the theory and into the practice.
"I mean, I don't exactly have a partner to, you know..." Your hands flew up in a vague, helpless gesture. "It's not like I can just walk into a bar and ask 'Hey, any of you guys into safe, effective, and nonjudgmental bondage?'"
The joke landed weakly, but Eddie didn't laugh. He just watched you, like a predator assessing prey. He leaned against your desk, crossing his arms, the casual posture doing nothing to hide the focus in his gaze. He picked up the book again, not to mock you this time, but to flip to a specific, dog-eared page.
"Okay," he said, tapping the pages of a sex scene you had clearly marked with interest. "This, for example. The rope work is all wrong for this position. It would cut off circulation after five minutes."
You blinked. "You... you know about ropes?"
He shrugged. "I have hobbies. Guitar isn't my only practical area of expertise." He met your eyes again.
"I guess that makes sense for your whole... look." You gesture vaguely at him.
That one does make him laugh a little. "Yeah sure the whole aesthetic probably doesn't hurt." He smirks at you, eyes scanning over you again. "But the look is just a bonus. Not a guarantee. I know people who are vanilla as hell who dress like me. And I know people who would put this whole book to shame who wear polo shirts."
You think about that for a second, mulling it over as he speaks again.
"Do you like my 'look' or something? You getting off on the thought of me being the one tying you up?" He teases you, but it's not a joke, not really. It's a question.
The question hung there, an invitation wrapped in a dare. Your cheeks burned, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze.
"Okay, light teasing was fine but don't purposely be an ass about this." You warn him, the bite in your words making him raise an eyebrow. "And... yeah. The thought occurred once or twice. I'm not blind." The admission felt like ripping off a band-aid—painful, but necessary.
Something shifted in Eddie's expression. His smirk was softer, like he didn't expect you to admit it. He let it hang in the air for a beat, savoring the victory.
"Once or twice, huh?" he mused. "That's... nice."
He set the book down again, this time closing it. The conversation was moving on, past the fantasy and into reality.
He sits on your bed, not like he usually does where he's just sprawled out with no care in the world. This was different. He sat close to the edge, leaving a space between you, but the air crackled with new possibilities. He rested his hands on his knees, a position that was open, non-threatening, but still completely in control.
"I've thought about it like, way more than once or twice honestly. I've thought about what it would be like with you. So, like, if you want to try some things, or even just talk about them, I'm more than willing to be your partner in crime."
You couldn't speak, but he continued.
"Unless, you know, you'd rather ask that guy from your history class. What's his name? Mark? The one who looks like he was grown in a lab to sell minivans."
"Mark is just my project partner." You roll your eyes. "He's literally been here once to study."
"You laugh at his jokes a lot in the dining hall." He shoots back. "I've seen it."
You had no comeback for that. Because he'd noticed. And you had laughed. But Mark's jokes were safe. They were about midterms and dining hall food. Eddie's jokes were about things that made your stomach flip.
"Okay, that doesn't mean I want to jump his bones. And even if I did, which I don't, how is that even rele--"
It hits you then
"You're jealous." You say it out loud, a statement, not a question.
Eddie didn't flinch. He didn't deny it.
He just shrugged again, that infuriatingly casual gesture that meant everything and nothing.
"I'm territorial about things that interest me," he said simply.
You were no longer just a study partner.
"Look. We've been friends for a while. You know me. You know I'm not a creep. We can just… talk. No touching, no ropes, nothin'. Just words. We lay it all out. Boundaries. What you're curious about. What's an absolute hard 'no'." He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering again. "Safe words. Pet names. the whole deal."
He was laying out a curriculum. A syllabus for your most private, secret class. And the professor was the guy who made fun of your D&D character for being too lawful good.
"This is insane," you whispered, the words feeling like bubbles in your chest.
"Is it?" He stood up and walked to your door, closing it and twisting the lock.
"Eddie... what if I say yes?"
He paused, his back to you for a second, before turning around. He leaned against the door, hands in his pockets.
"Then the real research begins." He gave you a small, genuine smile. "But only if you say the word."
The choice was yours.
"Okay." The word was barely a whisper.
He pushed off the door and walked back toward you, gesturing at your bed. "Okay. Rule one. Sit."
You carefully moved from your desk chair and sat on the bed, your back ramrod straight, perched on the very edge of the comforter like it might give way beneath you.
He sat down, leaving a careful foot of space between you. The mattress dipped with his weight, pulling you closer.
"You're tense as all hell, princess. Relax." The pet name was new. It wasn't teasing. It was... grounding.
You tried to unclench your shoulders.
"Let's start easy. Your safe word. It needs to be something you'll remember even if your brain is all fuzzy. Not something you'd normally say during sex. 'No' and 'stop' can be part of the scene. Your safe word is what makes the scene stop. No questions asked."
"Scene? That's so formal. So..."
"It's practical," he corrected gently. "It keeps things from getting messy. So. What'll it be?"
You thought for a moment, your mind racing. "Dragonfruit." It was stupid, random. No one would ever shout it accidentally.
A slow grin spread across Eddie's face. "Dragonfruit. I love it. Okay. That's ours. If you say it, we stop. Everything."
He shifted a little closer, the warmth of him seeping through the thin fabric of your shirt.
"Is there anything you like to be called? Or don't like?" He says, more seriously now. "Some people like being called a slut or a whore. Some people like 'good girl'. Some people hate it. There is no right answer, it's all about you."
The directness of the question made your breath catch. "Good girl," you admitted, your cheeks flushing with heat. "I don't think I'm ready for degradation yet..."
Part of you was worried saying that like you'd dissapoint him or something. but he just nodded, like you'd given him a perfectly reasonable answer.
"Alright. 'Good girl' it is. We can save the other stuff for an advanced class." The wink he threw you was both a joke and a promise.
"What about you?" you found yourself asking.
He seemed surprised by the question for a second. "Oh, well, I guess I'm pretty fine with most things. I mean, you could probably call me an asshole and I'd still like it cause it was your voice."
He said it so casually, as if he were discussing his favorite brand of guitar strings, and not the thought of you moaning for him.
"I liked when you called me princess..." You admit. "You could call me that."
"Princess," he repeated, the word soft on his tongue. "I can do that."
He was so close now. You could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes.
"Okay, new question..." Those big eyes drag down your figure. "Can you come sit on my lap? I want you closer."
He wasn't just asking a question about a hypothetical scenario anymore. This was real. This was happening.
Your body obeyed before your brain could catch up. You slid across the small space between you, the comforter a whisper under your knees, and settled yourself onto his lap.
His big hands went to your waist automatically, steadying you. He was warm, solid. You could feel the worn denim of his jeans against the thin material of your leggings.
"Alright. First lesson." His breath was warm against your ear, making you shiver. "Power isn't about force. It's about control. My control, your surrender."
You nod, mentally taking notes and he smiles before leaning into to whisper in your ear.
"You can always say no." He says gently. "Right now, to me. You can say 'no, Eddie, I don't want to sit on your lap' and I'll let you go, no questions asked. This is still a conversation."
"I know." You say, a little breathless.
"But you aren't going to say that, are you? No... you want this."
"I do."
"Good girl." The words were a low rumble you felt straight between your legs. "I'm going to put my hands on your thighs now. Just to hold you. Alright?"
You could only manage a small nod.
You could feel the weight of his rings through your leggings.
"Looking so pretty, all for me." He whispers and you lean into him, your head falling to rest on his shoulder as your eyes flutter shut. You trusted him. You'd known him for years. He was safe.
This was what he meant, about the conversation. Every touch was a question. Every reaction, an answer.
"Are you going to be good for me?" He asks.
"Y-yeah," you manage. "I'll be good."
His grip on your thighs tightened just a fraction.
"I know you will." He nosed at your neck. "Now, hands behind your back. Let me hold them."
Your heart hammered against your ribs. You swallowed, your throat tight, and slowly, deliberately, you moved your arms behind you, lacing your fingers together at the small of your back. The position pushed your chest out, making you feel incredibly vulnerable, incredibly exposed.
He made a soft, satisfied sound.
"Always like it when you wear a low cut top like this." He admits. His hands slid from your thighs to your back, covering your clasped hands with one of his own. The gesture was light, not restrictive, but it felt impossibly final.
His other hand came up to trace the neckline of your shirt, a single finger grazing your collarbone, then dipping lower, following the curve of your breast. He didn't grab, didn't grope. He just… explored. Mapping the territory.
"Your heart's beating so fast," he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "I can feel it."
You couldn't answer. All your focus was on the path of his finger as it drifted to the peak of your breast, circling your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt and bra.
"Responsive little thing, aren't you sweetheart?" He teases.
He circles it a few times, making you squirm on his lap and you can already feel the hard length of him through your layers of clothes. The evidence of his own desire.
His other hand still holds your wrists.
"You like your nipples played with? I know you're sensitive." He asks and you nod again. "Let's see more of these pretty tits."
He doesn't ask to take your shirt off. He just does.
He expertly pulls the shirt over your head in one fluid motion, momentarily freeing your hands before he catches them again, this time pressing them more firmly into the small of your back. He then goes for the clasp of your bra and he undoes that too, pulling it down your arms until you're topless for him.
"Look at that." He whispers and it's the most turned on you've ever heard him.
He runs his thumb over the pebbled flesh of your nipple, and your breath hitches. The calloused pad of his thumb created a delicious friction, a direct line of heat pooling in your core.
"I'm going to pinch," he warned, his voice a dark promise. "Just a little. To see how you like it."
You tensed in anticipation.
He didn't make you wait long. He rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, applying a slow, deliberate pressure. A sharp, surprising jolt of pleasure-pain shot through you, pulling a soft gasp from your lips.
"Good," he rasped. "You like that."
It wasn't a question. He read your body as easily as he read the tabbed pages of your sociology textbook.
He keeps pinching and playing as he trails soft kisses from your collarbones and lower, purposefully avoiding where you want his mouth. He was kissing all around your breasts, teasing you with featherlight touches until you're squirming and whining.
"Shh, be patient." He whispers against the skin of your breast. "I'll get there."
He does it again to the other breast. The pinch, the pleasure, the feeling of being completely at his mercy. He was testing you, seeing what made you gasp, what made you squirm. And you were arching into his touch, a silent plea for more.
He finally lowered his head, taking one peaked nipple into the warm, wet heat of his mouth. He sucked gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, before grazing it lightly with his teeth.
The whimper that left you was undignified. Needy.
He pulled back, releasing you with a soft 'pop'. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with an emotion you'd never seen directed at you before. Possessiveness. Pride. Awe.
"Look what you do to me," he murmured, one of his hands releasing yours to guide your own down, pressing it flat against the hard bulge straining against the denim of his jeans.
"You're going to have to take care of that later, aren't you?" He says, pushing your hips down a little, making you grind against him.
The friction was obscene, a delicious drag through the layers of clothing that sent sparks skittering up your spine. You did it again, a little more boldly, rocking yourself against the rigid length of him. A groan rumbled in his chest, a purely male, primal sound of appreciation.
"Not yet," he said, his grip on your waist tightening, stopping your movements. "That's a reward. And you haven't earned it yet."
He shifted you slightly, adjusting your position so you could feel him more acutely, a perfect, infuriating pressure against your clothed core. His free hand drifted down to the waistband of your leggings. His fingers toyed with the elastic, a casual touch that made your entire body clench with anticipation.
"You're soaked through already, aren't you, princess?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I can feel it. All this fuss just from me playing with your pretty tits."
"Is that weird?" You ask, a little nervous now.
"Not at all. It's perfect." He says gently. "It means your body is honest. It tells the truth. And right now, your body is telling me how much you want this."
His fingers dipped below the waistband, not touching you where you craved it most, but just resting against the soft skin there.
"We could stop right now," he offered, his tone maddeningly level. "We can stop anytime you want. We can just put your shirt back on, order a pizza, and fail our sociology midterm together. All you have to do is say one word. Do you remember our word?"
"Dragonfruit," you whispered, testing it on your tongue. It felt foreign, distant. Not what you wanted at all.
"Now, tell me what you do want."
You took a shaky breath. "I want you to touch me."
"Touch you where? You have to use your words."
Every nerve ending was on fire. "My... I want you to touch me between my legs."
"Good girl."
He finally moved, his hand sliding further down, past the damp cotton of your underwear, through your slick folds. He didn't rush, exploring you with a surgeon's precision.
"This pussy is so fucking wet for me, princess." He breathes out in awe.
He found your clit with an unnerving ease, a single finger circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. You jolted, a sharp inhale of pleasure.
"Right there?" he asked, feigning innocence.
You could only nod, your head falling back against his shoulder as he continued his slow, torturous circles. He was drawing it out, making you feel every spark, every tremor. You were wound so tight, a trembling knot of need.
Your hips began to move of their own accord, chasing the friction, the building pressure. But he stopped you again, holding you still with a firm grip.
"Uh-uh. My pace," he chided softly. "You don't get to finish until I say you can."
A whimper escaped your lips, a sound of pure frustration.
"Patience," he murmured, kissing your temple.
You notice now, that he hasn't kissed your lips, but you don't make a comment on it, too busy feeling everything else to care.
He was a master of this, a conductor of your pleasure. He varied the pressure, the speed, watching your every reaction, learning what made you gasp, what made you whine. He slipped a finger inside you, then a second, curling them upward to stroke that spot that made your vision blur.
"You think I should let you come soon?" he asked, his voice a dark, intimate rumble. "You've been so good for me. Sitting still. Taking what I give you."
"Please," you begged, the word ripped from you. "Eddie, please."
"Please what?"
"Please let me finish."
He chuckled, a low, wicked sound. "Since you asked so nicely."
He increased the pressure on your clit, the circles becoming faster, more demanding. His fingers inside you stroked with renewed purpose. The tension in your belly coiled tighter and tighter, a spring ready to snap.
"That's it, sweetheart. Let go. Soak my fucking hand." he commanded.
You were cumming by the time he said 'let go', your body convulsing in a blinding wave of pleasure. You cried out, your back arching, your hands still trapped behind you, leaving you nothing to hold onto but him. He held you through it, his movements slowing, gentling, as you shuddered and trembled.
When you were riding out the after shocks he released your hands, letting you decide where to put them. You immediately brought them around to his shoulders, clinging to him. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, catching your breath.
His hands came up to your back, stroking you slowly, grounding you. He whispered sweet nothings against your hair, words of praise and affection.
"I know that wasn't as extreme as what your little book had, but trust needs to be built up slowly for things like that." He says softly, kissing your shoulder. "We'll get there.
You could feel the rapid, steady beat of his heart against your cheek. You could still feel the hard press of his arousal against you, a silent testament to his own restraint.
"Eddie..." you whispered, your voice hoarse. "You didn't..."
He shushed you, a finger gently tilting your chin up. "Hey. it's okay. Tonight was about you. About learning you."
You looked at him, really looked at him. His hair was a mess, his lips were swollen from where he'd been kissing your skin, and his eyes were dark and soft and full of an emotion that made your chest ache.
Without thinking, you leaned in and finally, finally kissed him.
He didn't move at first and you pulled back quickly, suddenly feeling stupid.
Was kissing not okay in this arrangement?
Did he only want the physical part?
Did he even like you like that?
Before you could speak, he did it first.
"Hey you, don't look like that. It's not what you think." He says gently.
"I- I just thought..."
"I know what you thought. And it's okay. I wanted to kiss you. More than anything."
"So why didn't you?" You ask, not in an accusatory tone, but a genuinely curious one.
"Because if I kissed you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I wouldn't have been able to handle it if this was just a one-time thing. Or if this was just about sex. I wouldn't have been able to control myself, and we might not be here right now."
This confession was so raw, so vulnerable. It was more intimate than anything you'd done.
"So... what is this then?" You ask, your heart pounding.
"It's whatever you want it to be." He says honestly. "But I want it to be something. Something real."
You lean in again, slowly, giving him the chance to pull away.
He didn't.
He met you halfway, his lips finally claiming yours. It wasn't a kiss of frenzy or desperation. His hands cupped your face, holding you tenderly, as if you were something precious. His lips were soft, tasting faintly of you, of the cola he'd been drinking hours ago. He kissed you slowly, deeply, a conversation without words.
When you finally parted, you were both breathless.
"Do you still want me to do something about..." You trail off, letting your eyes flick down to the very prominent problem in his pants.
He groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. "Princess, you have no idea how much I want that. But I also want to do this right. So... right now, nothing too demanding, just let me fuck your brains out?"
You laughed, a real, genuine laugh that made your whole body feel lighter.
"You're an idiot."
"You know what?" He says with a teasing smile, before flipping you so he was hovering over you on the bed. "I like it better when you're on your back, anyway."
He made quick work of your leggings and underwear, tossing them aside. He stood up to strip off his own clothes, and you watched him, your gaze hungry. You'd seen him shirtless before, at the lake, at a party, but this was different.
The chain around his neck rested in the dip of his collarbone. His chest was lean, a smattering of dark hair trailing down his stomach, disappearing into the waistband of his boxers. He was all sharp angles and wiry strength. And as he pulled down his boxers, your breath hitched.
"You want this huh? This is what you were grinding against earlier?" He smirks. He was long and thick, flushed with arousal, curving up towards his stomach.
He climbed back onto the bed, settling himself between your legs.
"Take what you want," he commanded, his voice a low growl.
Your hand trembled as you reached between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around him. He was hot and heavy in your palm as you guided him to your entrance, and he pushed forward, just the head breaching you.
A shared gasp. You were so wet, so ready for him, but the stretch was still intense, a delicious burn.
"Oh, good girl, you listen so fucking well," he praised, before sliding the rest of the way home with one slow, deep thrust.
He filled you completely, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
"Fuck," he breathed, burying his face in your neck. "You feel better than I ever imagined."
He started to move, a slow, deep rhythm that stole the air from your lungs. Every drag of his cock against your inner walls was a fresh wave of pleasure. This was different from the sharp, focused intensity from before. This was a deep, all-consuming fire.
"Look at me," he demanded, pulling back just enough to see your face. "Hold on to the headboard."
You obeyed, your hands finding the cool metal bars of your headboard, as he began to move again. This new angle let him hit that spot inside you with every thrust, making your toes curl. He wasn't just fucking you anymore. He was claiming you. Marking you from the inside out.
"Who's making you feel this good?" he grunted, his hips snapping a little faster.
"You are," you moaned, your knuckles white where you gripped the headboard.
"Whose cock makes you feel this good?" He asks, a dark look in his eyes.
"Yours," you gasped, the words torn from you. "Only yours, Eddie."
"Fuck yes, it does." He says, a smirk on his face. "Not some loser from the dining hall." He speeds up a little, getting cocky. "Not your project partner. You wanna know who knows exactly what to do with you? Me." He punctuates his words with a hard thrust and you can't help but arch your back.
"You're mine now, sweetheart. This pussy is mine to use." His voice is a rough possessive rasp as he leans down to whisper softly in your ear. "Gimme a color, princess. Are we green?"
You were so far gone, but you knew what he was asking. "Green," you moaned. "So green, Eddie."
He smiled, a triumphant, feral grin. "Good girl. You want me to keep talking like this, honey? You want me to tell you how I'm going to fuck you every day after our study sessions from now on? How I'm going to bend you over that desk until you're screaming my name?"
"Yes," you whined, a desperate, needy sound. "Please."
"Then I guess I'll have to do it." His hips began to piston faster, the headboard knocking against the wall in a steady, rhythmic beat. "Would you like that, sweetheart? To be my good little girl? To cum whenever I say?"
"I would," you cried out. "God, I would."
He brought a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit again. He didn't circle it this time. He pressed down, hard, in direct counterpoint to his thrusts.
"Cum for me," he commanded. "All over my cock."
Your orgasm ripped through you, violent and overwhelming. You screamed his name, a raw, ragged sound, as you convulsed around him, your body spasming with the force of your release.
"Mmm, gonna wake up the whole dorm." He praised. "Such a good fucking girl." He kept thrusting through it, prolonging your pleasure until you were a sobbing, writhing mess beneath him.
He pulled out and kissed you softly, the kiss slow and deep as you shook under him. You could feel his erection against your thigh, hot and hard and insistent.
"You still haven't..." You begin, trailing off again as you try and catch your breath.
"I haven't bent you over the desk yet." He grins, before he pulls you up from your comfortable spot on your back.
His hands were on you instantly, guiding you to your feet and then turning you, walking you the few steps to your desk. He swept his arm across it, the textbook with the red tabs, a stack of flashcards—all of it clattering to the floor in a mess of academic debris.
His lips are kissing by your ear as he speaks, caging you in from behind. "You need me to get a condom?" He asks, and you are a little surprised by the question.
"I'm on the pill." You say quickly, and he makes a happy humming sound, kissing the back of your neck.
"Perfect." He whispers, before he's pressing your chest flat against the desk. The cool wood was a shock against your heated skin.
"Think you can handle a little more for me, baby?" He asked, his hands stroking over your ass.
You nod, your face turned to the side, your cheek pressed against the smooth wood.
"Use your words."
"Yes," you breathe out. "I can handle more."
He doesn't enter you right away. Instead, he kneels, spreading your cheeks, and you feel the hot, wet shock of his tongue against your pussy. He licks a long, slow stripe from your clit to your entrance, groaning at the taste.
"Fuck, you're delicious," he murmurs, before diving back in.
He was relentless, eating you out with a single-minded focus that left you trembling. He alternated between broad, flat strokes of his tongue and pointed, targeted flicks against your clit.
His hands grip at the fat of your ass as he eats you out like a man starved, and you can't help but push your hips back against him. He eats it until your legs are shaking and you're whining for him to stop. When he does, he stands up, his chest heaving.
He pauses and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. You glance behind you to see him taking the rings off his right hand, leaning over your back to put them on the desk as he places small kisses on your back.
"What are you..."
Your whisper turns into a whine when a callous palm hits your ass cheek. Not hard, but enough that you gasp at the suddenness.
He shushes you gently, rubbing the reddening mark. "Just a little color for my pretty girl." He murmurs. "You like that? Just a little sting?"
You nod, your mind fuzzy with pleasure and confusion.
"Words, baby." He reminds you.
"Y-yes. I like it."
He spanks you again, this one harder, and you feel the jolt of it deep in your core. He alternates between spanking you and rubbing the tender skin, until you're a quivering, whimpering mess.
Another smack and you don't even register when he lines himself up with your entrance, and glides in, slick and easy, bottoming out with a deep groan. The angle was different, deeper, and it made you feel utterly possessed.
He set a brutal pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the small room, mingling with your moans and his ragged breaths. One of his hands grabs your face as he leans over to kiss you.
"Taste how fucking sweet you are?" He whispers against your lips. You're nodding dumbly as he continues to fuck you, tongue licking into your mouth.
His other hand slides around your body, finding your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles. It was too much, too intense, and you tried to squirm away.
"Uh-uh. You take it," he commanded, his voice a low growl.
"Take everything I give you, princess." He was praising you, his words stoking the fire in your belly. You were already so sensitive from your previous orgasms, every drag of his cock against your walls a fresh wave of pleasure.
"Please," you begged, not even sure what you were asking for.
More? Faster? For it to never end?
"I know, I know." He cooed at you. "Good girls like you need to be fucked until they can't think straight."
You clenched around him, and he grunted, his rhythm faltering for a second.
"Yeah, you like me saying that, don't you? You like being my good girl." He punctuates his words with a hard thrust that makes you see stars.
Your clit was throbbing under his thumb, the pleasure so sharp it was almost pain. Your body was a live wire, humming with a frantic, desperate energy.
"Gonna cum," you sobbed, the words barely intelligible. "Eddie, I'm gonna cum."
He pressed you down more against the desk, his hips snapping faster, harder. He leans over your back so you can feel the sweat from his chest on your skin as he speaks right into your ear.
"Come on," he urged, his voice rough with strain. "Cum for me. One. More. Fucking. Time."
You whined out, needier than ever, as your body convulsed, your inner walls clamping down on him. Your legs gave out, and you would have collapsed to the floor if he hadn't been holding you up, pinning you to the desk.
He gathered your hair in one of his hands, pulling your head back slightly, the angle new and dizzying as he keeps fucking you through your orgasm. This let him see your face as he uses you for his own pleasure. He looked wild, untamed, his pupils blown wide with lust.
"That's it, baby. Milk my cock. Such a good fucking girl." He moans as he starts to lose the steady rhythm. You could feel him getting closer, his thrusts becoming erratic, more desperate.
"Gonna fill you up," he growled, his grip on your hair tightening. "Mark this pretty little pussy as mine."
With a final, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt, and you felt the hot pulse of his release deep inside you. He stayed there for a long moment, his forehead resting against your back, both of you breathing heavily, trying to come back to earth.
His hand in your hair changed from a grip to soothing stokes
His fingers danced up your body from their ruthless attack of your clit, to splay across your stomach. You feel him press gently. He was still inside of you. Softening, but still present.
"You okay?" he murmured against your spine, the words muffled by his soft kisses to your skin.
You managed a weak nod, not trusting your voice.
He laughed softly, the vibration traveling through you. "Good. Because I'm not done with you yet."
He slowly pulled out, and the emptiness you felt was acute. You could feel his release begin to trickle down your thigh, a sticky, intimate reminder of what you'd just done.
He helped you to the bed, tugging you back into his arms. You both were sweaty, sticky, and your room was a mess. You couldn't bring yourself to care.
You curled into his side, your head on his chest. The steady, reassuring beat of his heart was a comforting anchor in the haze of satiation.
His hands never stopped caressing through your hair.
He was quiet for a long time, just stroking your hair and pressing soft kisses to your forehead.
"So," he said, his voice quiet. "Is the reality better than the book?"
You thought about it for a second. The book was theory. This was practice. This was real.
"I thought you said you weren't done with me?" You manage, weakly.
He just pulls his head back enough to get a proper look at your face, the most genuine smile accentuated by his dimples.
"Yeah, the aftercare. The cuddles. The praise. That's all part of it." He said, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "Being the one who has to clean up our mess."
He sits up, leaning over the side of the bed to grab the t-shirt he'd been wearing earlier. He carefully, almost reverently, began to clean you up. The cotton was soft against your sensitive skin.
"You're so good at that," You say softly, referring to the entire night, but more specifically the way he was taking care of you.
"Yeah? Well I'm a man of many talents." He teases, but the way he's looking at you is soft.
He's gentle, methodical, as he wipes away the evidence of your night together. Once he's satisfied, he tosses the shirt aside and pulls the comforter over both of you, cocooning you in the warmth of the small bed.
You're quiet for a long time again. Just listening to each other breathe.
"Hey," he whispered.
"Hm?"
"About the kiss earlier..." he started, his voice a little hesitant. "When I said I didn't know if I could handle it if this was just a one-time thing... I meant it."
He shifts a little, so he's looking you in the eye. "This was never gonna be just a one-time thing for me. You have to know that. I've been wanting this for so long."
You are looking up at him in the dim light of your desk lamp. He's looking at you with a unguarded expression that you'd never seen from him before.
"You really have? I thought... I thought this was just... you know, because of the book."
He let out a small, breathy laugh. "Sweetheart, the book was just a convenient excuse. A cosmic sign from the universe to finally do something about the massive, soul-crushing crush I've had on you since we were assigned as lab partners in freshman chemistry."
His signature smirk reappeared then.
"The fact that you're also into the same filthy shit I am? That's just a very, very lucky bonus."
You couldn't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from your chest. It was a laugh of pure, unadulterated happiness.
"So, what now?" You ask, your voice barely a whisper.
"Now I get to enjoy this body being all soft in my arms." He says, kissing your forehead. "Now I get to wake up next to you and make you breakfast. Now I get to walk you to our sociology class and sit next to you knowing exactly what you sound like when you orgasm."
He pulls you closer. "And now I get to tell you that I want to be your boyfriend. If you'll have me."
You tilt your head up to look at him, a slow, genuine smile spreading across your face.
"I'll have you," you said simply.
"Oh, no enthusiasm for the man who made you cum three times in an hour?" He teases gently. You just lean up and kiss him, soft and sweet.
"I think you fucked all the enthusiasm out of me." You mumble against his lips.
He chuckles, satisfied and proud.
"It's a skill." He smirks. "But don't worry. I'm a great teacher. We'll build up your stamina." He winks, and you feel a fresh wave of heat wash over you.
He pulls you to his chest, safe and warm. You could get used to this.
"Next time," he whispers against your hair. "Next time I'll bring my ropes."
You press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "I'll hold you to that."
He held you tighter, a silent promise. The night wasn't over. Your time exploring each other, it seemed, had really just begun.
Authors Note: Heyyyy this was halfway a request and halfway what I just wanted to write about. Anon requested jealous Joe and so this is what I came up with lol. I hope everyone enjoys and stay tuned for more fics coming soon! (P.S. I didn't expect this one to be so long omgggg"
Summary: Joe Keery x Celebrity/Actress reader, Joe and reader haven't been able to see each other in a few weeks. The daily phone calls and text messages being the only things to connect them to each other. Joes' jealousy seems to reach its peak after a vogue interview with her and her flirty costar, Jacob Elordi. After Fighting reader decides to show up to his next concert and surprise Joe in his sexy cowboy hat and boots.
Word Count: 4,234
Warnings: ANGST, fluff, Joe is extremely jealous of Jacob Elordi, thoughts of reader cheating (NONE HAPPENS JOE JUST QUESTIONS IT FOR LIKE 5 SECONDS), mentions of being a shitty boyfriend, insecurity, fighting, arguing, yearning, Use of Y/N It happens a few times during an interview and joe says it once when fighting, cursing (I have a potty mouth), In the interview with Y/N and Jacob Y/N's character is called Ginger, Kinda toxic Joe, SMUTTTTT, rough sex, Dom!Joe, Doggy style, spit for lube, pnv unprotected sex (Wear a rubber), breeding kink, creampie, spanking, dirty talk, degradation/praise, in this household we fight and fuck thank you, NOT PROOFREAD
Joe’s tour around the United States was taking a toll on the relationship. He had been gone about two months at this point, with non-stop concerts and constantly traveling, making seeing each other difficult. You were able to FaceTime each other almost every day for at most an hour at a time. It was hard, but for his career, it was worth it for both of you. Knowing that he was chasing his dreams and making them come true made the days when you barely talked all worth it. When you did talk, it was full of love and talking about the future together. Tonight was one of those nights. He had finished performing a show in Cincinnati, Ohio, and was now alone in his tour bus while the rest of the band went out to a club. He was exhausted, though, and just wanted to talk to his girl, so he stayed behind to eat some Chinese food and FaceTime. He sets his phone up against the back of a box on the table while he sits down and presses the button to call you. You answer the phone after it rings a few times, chaotically propping it up against something nd letting him see you in your pajamas. Your hair is wrapped up in a towel, and your shirt is hanging off one of your shoulders as you sit on the couch with a bowl of soup in your lap.
“Hey princess”, he says, smiling at you like you hung the sun in the sky.
“Hey Jojo,” you say, smiling back at him, and seeing his handsome face, he looks tired but happy to see you. “How was the concert tonight? Did it go well? You ask while taking a sip of your soup and watching him stir around his Chinese food with some chopsticks.
“Yeah, yeah, it was great. The boys had a blast, I had a blast, the fans were crazy, ya know, just a good concert.” He says nonchalantly, a part of him feels guilty for being gone for so long and for all the concerts and touring he was doing. He knew deep down that you didn't mind, as it was his dream, but it didn't help that he didn't get to see you every day like when he was home.
“That's great, babe, you know I'm so fucking proud of you!” You say genuinely happy for him, which he notices and appreciates.
“I miss you so much, baby, but when I get home to New York, we can go shopping and whatever else you want, baby girl.” He says into the phone while eating his fast food dinner inside the tour bus. You smile and look at him through the phone while you eat your own dinner across the country in your shared apartment.
“I miss you too, and I can't wait to have you home, even though I am loving all the new fan edits of you on my TikTok.” You say laughing, knowing he thinks it's funny how many edits of him you have saved. He rolls his eyes before smirking and looking back at you on the phone.
“Oh, I'm sure you've got them all saved and put into your ‘Sexy boyfriend’ folder,” he laughs and looks over out of view before looking back at the phone. “So how's the press tour going? I heard you and Elordi had that Vogue interview this morning.” He says, trying to hide his jealousy. It's not that he didn't trust you; it's just that he knew that Jacob was very flirty with you, and the movie involved you and Jacob being very romantic with each other. He knows that it's just a job, but sometimes when he watches Interviews with both of you in them, he sees how Jacob looks at you and feels a pit in his stomach.
“Yeah, it was great this morning. I love how they interview for Vogue, it just makes me feel so fancy.” You say before laughing a little and continuing, “They just asked us about the intimacy on set and whatnot, ya know, the usual stuff. Jacob and I met for coffee afterwards and had lunch.” If he had made a face, he quickly hid it. The thought of you and Jacob sitting down at some cafe and laughing, talking, and him getting to see you and enjoy coffee with you. It was making Joe feel like a shitty boyfriend for being jealous over something so small.
“Oh… I'm glad it went well, and I'm glad Jacob took you for lunch after that; that was nice of him.” He says, trying not to show his discomfort and disgust. The pit in his stomach deepens a bit, and he decides he should end the call before he says something to make himself look like a shitty partner. Luckily, he can hear the band come back from the club and start laughing outside the tour bus. “Oh shit, baby, the boys are back… I’ll call you tomorrow? Yeah? I'm sorry, I wish we could have talked longer.” He says while looking at you sitting pretty on the couch.
“Hey, don't worry about it, love. We'll have more time to talk another day,” You shrug before continuing, “Besides, I have to go find more sexy boyfriend edits to save and repost.” You laugh and look back at him through the phone. “God, I love you, baby. Have a good night and don't let Wes drink all your beer again.”
Joe laughs at that and smiles at you again, “I love you, too, princess, and I won't let him. Goodnight, sweetheart, sleep well, and I'll talk to you soon, babe.” He blows a kiss at the camera, and you do the same before he ends the call. As soon as the phone call ends, he leans back against the chair and stares at the bus's roof. Maybe he was just overthinking it, but the thought of you with Jacob going out to dinner was making him feel nauseous.
Later, after the boys had gone to bed in the bunk beds, he was still up scrolling on Instagram. He was on his private account and was looking at the newest press pictures of you from your movie tour. He smiled at the ones where you looked genuinely gorgeous. He continued to scroll until he stumbled across a post from earlier that day. It was you and Jacob sitting across from each other at the cafe, eating lunch as you had told him. Your mid-conversation, the photo being taken while you're talking, and Jacob is staring at you intensely, almost lovingly. Joe’s heart starts to beat faster again, worry creeping into his thoughts. He ignores the thoughts that linger as best as he can and continues to scroll. After a few more random posts, he finds a clip from the interview that happened earlier that morning. He sees you and Jacob sitting beside each other in some chairs while asking questions. He decides to listen to the clip quietly so he doesn't wake the rest of the band sleeping nearby. The clip starts, and the interviewer is asking the two of you a question.
“So, Y/N and Jacob, this movie dives deep into the feeling of an all-consuming relationship. Was it easy to connect in that way? Or was it difficult to really work past your friendship and act romantically interested in each other?” He sees you stop to think for a second before responding.
“For me, I think it was hard to forget that we were just friends and act like I was in love with him. I mean, I love him as a person and as one of my friends, but I think that friendship, love, and romantic love are totally different.” You say before letting Jacob answer the question. Jacob looks over at you before looking back at the interviewer and responding.
“I disagree, I think it was easier for me to act romantically interested in you because of our friendship.” You look at Jacob in the clip and laugh at his response gently.
“Really? How so?” You ask him sweetly, genuinely curious and wanting to understand his perspective.
“Well, I love you as my friend, and so it was easy to love you as my Girlfriend as well,” Jacob says, grinning and giving you that handsome smile, while you just laugh gently and smile back at him.
“Were you enjoying Jacob's attention?” Joe thinks before looking back at the clip and seeing you looking at Jacob while smiling that beautiful smile he thought was reserved for him. The one that makes your eyes crinkle at the corners. Jacob is looking at you like you're the most beautiful thing in the room. Which Joe can agree with him on, you're the most beautiful thing in the world. The interviewer asked another question while looking at Jacob, wanting his response first this time.
“So, Jacob, do you think that your character would love Y/N as much as he loves Ginger? The interviewer asked Jacob while looking at him. Jow watches you turn to look at Jacob as well.
“Of course, I really do think that he would love Y/N just as much, if not more than Ginger. I mean, I love Y/N, and I think I have a pretty good grasp on this character and his thoughts and emotions.” Jacob responds before looking over at you and smiling that lovesick smile.
The interviewer asks him more about that, and Joe's jaw clenches while he clicks off the clip. Before he can stop himself from overthinking all of the thoughts he had pushed aside, they come crashing into him. Were you cheating on him with Jacob Elordi? He doesn't think you would do that, but he also thought his ex wouldn't either, and yet she did. He knows how Handsome and charming Jacob is and why so many women were in love with him. But he trusted you to stay faithful and loyal to him.
“No, she wouldn't do that…” He thinks to himself. He just can't help but feel this horrible, anxious feeling in his gut that you've been flirty with Jacob. I mean, it was a romance movie, and he understands that you have to sell the sex of it all and the romance even off the set and in the press. He knows that it's not real and that you really do love him. It just still gnaws at him that you let Jacob flirt with you, and you liked the attention he gave you. I mean you were smiling at Jacob after he basically just told everyone that he loved you, and thought his character in the movie would be in love with the real-life version of you as well. Joe sighs before turning his phone off and lying down. He was making himself upset at the thought of what you and Jacob were doing behind the scenes. In the morning, he decided he would confront you about it before his next concert. Joe didn't think he could live with the thought of his girl being flirty with her co-star.
The next morning, Joe wakes up after having one of the worst nights of sleep in his life. He kept tossing and turning, thinking about you and Jacob laughing and looking at each other. He texts you as soon as he finds his glasses and puts them on, grabs his phone, and sends you a quick message.
“Hey, babe, I really need to talk to you.” He sends the message and then tosses his phone from the tour bus couch. He sits and waits for you to see it and respond so that he can talk to you as soon as possible. About ten minutes later, you respond to his text message, and he picks up his phone to read it.
“Hey, yeah, I'm available. What's up?” Joe read the message before responding.
“Please just call me.” Within a minute, he had stepped outside of the tour bus, away from his friends, and was now waiting for his phone to ring. You call him as soon as you can, you're sitting in your bed in New York in the shared apartment. Joe answers the phone on the second ring, lifting it to his ear so he can talk to you.
“Hey,” He says, a bit too nonchalant for him.
“Hey, baby, is everything ok?” You ask with concern in your voice.
“Um…,” he hesitates, " Should he bother even questioning you about this? He decides he'd rather talk it out than resent you for something he didn't even ask about. “I saw a bit of that interview you had yesterday, and then the paparazzi pictures from the cafe. I just…. Im just….. Are you hiding anything from me with Jacob? Like, are you and Jacob doing anything behind my back?” He finally asked, just spitting out the questions that had been running through his mind for hours. It takes you a second to comprehend what he asked you.
“What the fuck? Where did that come from?” You ask with a hint of confusion and a bit of anger in your tone at his accusation.
“I asked if you and Jacob were flirting behind my back. I'm not saying you're cheating on me, I just see how he looks at you, and I want to know Y/N.” He says getting angry as well, not yelling but raising his voice a bit.
“Whoa… I'm like… No, Joe, that's fucking crazy. Jacob and I are just friends, and his flirting with me is ridiculous. Were promoting our movie. It's no different than what you and Sabrina did when she ‘arrested you’.” You say, throwing that back in his face, knowing that Sabrina Carpenter “arresting” him at one of her shows had caused a major fight between the two of you. It had made you feel terrible that he had done that in front of so many people and in public. It made rumors start online that he was cheating on you and that the two of you had broken up. Fans were still shipping Joe and Sabrina to this day, even though it was public knowledge that you and he were still together.
“Don't fucking bring that up right now, we're talking about you and Jacob, not me and Sabrina.” He says, getting even more agitated.
“No, Joseph, Jacob, and I are not flirting or fucking or whatever the fuck you think that we're doing together. I don't know where the hell this is coming from.” You say, exasperated at what had happened in the span of a few minutes.
“Well, it sure as shit doesn't look like it from my perspective. Besides, I had a feeling he was bad news, Y/N. I just…. I don't know how to trust you right now…” He says before hanging up the phone and turning it off. You stare down at your phone and try to text him immediately.
“Babe, please call me back. We can talk this out, I promise nothing is happening between Jacob and me.” Joe sees your message and doesn't respond. He continues on with his day of traveling to the next venue in the next city and practicing with the band. They notice how off he is, but don't say anything after overhearing him and you arguing on the phone earlier. The rest of the day, they are driving to their next concert location while Joe mopes on the bus. He has his phone shut off and is just ignoring the stares from the rest of the boys.
The next day, after staying in a hotel, they arrive at the concert venue and start to set up for the show. They spend a few hours putting up equipment and doing a sound check. Joe sings and tries to distract himself by preparing for the concert tonight while his phone is still on silent. Later that night, he was performing alongside the band. The music was blasting through the venue as fans were screaming and singing along. He's jumping to the music while he sings, letting his stress melt away. The screaming crowd encourages him to keep moving and not let his mind wander away from him. The show ends without any problems.
“Thank you guys so much for coming out here tonight, it means the world to me! Have a great night,t and thank you so much for the support! I love you guys!” He yells before him, and the rest of the band walks offstage. He follows the rest of the boys backstage, handing off his guitar to a stage crew member. He runs his hands through his sweaty hair. Sighing and trying to calm his racing heart. Wes glances back at him before opening the door to the greenroom. Before stepping inside the room, Joe finally looks up and sees you sitting on a couch. He stops in the doorway, not knowing what to say. Wes finally looks at him and the rest of the boys.
“Well, let you talk,” Wes says before nodding towards the door and leaving with the rest of the boys. They close the door behind themselves and leave you and Joe alone in the room together. You sit there looking at him before he says anything.
“What are you doing here?” He asks, confused, why you're here and not back home in New York.
“You weren't answering me, so I may have booked a flight knowing you would be here tonight so I could be with you…. I may have also enlisted Wes to help me.” You say, looking at him, trying to ignore how handsome he is after performing. His arms are taut, muscles on display; he has a sheen on him from dancing around on stage for almost two hours.
“You just left New York….. During your press tour?” He says, still staring at you.
“Fuck my press tour, I wanted to see you…I needed to see you and tell you that I love you… and to answer your damn phone.” You say, before you can say anything else, he's crossed the room and kissed you. You kiss him back after the initial shock and bury your hands in his hair. He grips your hips and pulls you flush against him, so close you can feel his growing boner. You pull away to take a breath and look into his deep brown eyes.
“Fuck baby….You're not mad at me, right? I promise nothing's going on.” You say before he kisses you again and bites your bottom lip. He pulls away and holds your face in his hands.
I'm not mad at you… I just, I was worried you and Jacob were closer than you were acting like you were, it just made me feel like my being gone was coming between the two of us… I'm sorry I was ignoring you. I just didn't know how to deal with feeling jealous over fucking Jacob Elordi.” He rolls his eyes and then kisses all over your face.
It's ok, baby…. I'm your, as you know that? I'm your girl, and you have no reason to feel jealous, so ok? Besides, you're all I ever talk about anyway, I'm just so proud of you.” You say laughing as he kisses down your face and to your neck.
“We're staying at a hotel tonight. Come with me and stay in my room, please, baby, please.” He says, pulling away to look at you.
“Yeah, yeah, I'll come with you.” You say nodding and looking at him before kissing him again. You break away from him and then ride with the rest of the band to the nearest hotel. Get a room with Joe and take your luggage up together. He opens the door with the keycard and then opens the door. As soon as he gets both of you inside the room and the luggage pushed aside, he practically tackles you on the bed. You bust out a laugh while he pins you down and starts kissing you.
“Fuck Joe!” You laugh before moaning as he sucks a mark into your neck, “Oh shit, baby, yeah, I need you.” He pulls away to tug off his shirt and reaches for yours. He tugs yours off as well and reaches down after to help you get your leggings off. He realizes your shoes are still on, so he takes those off as well and then pulls his off. He looks back down at you and sees that you're in a matching set of underwear. It's lacey with floral details and hugs your body in all the right places. He takes his pants off and his underwear before leaning down and kissing you.
“Ya know I love this little number you've got on, but holy shit I need you naked, baby, need to see you.” He practically whines before reaching and unhooking your bra with your help, pulling your underwear off your legs, and throwing it to the floor. You expect him to want him to keep you in missionary, one of his favorite positions. However, you don't expect him to flip you over onto your stomach and yank your hips back. Your bare ass and pussy on display for him. He kneels behind you on the bed and looks down. His hands shape over the globes of your ass and reach up the small of your back before making their way back down to hold your ass. You toss your head back and look at him over your shoulder/
“Well, this is unexpected.” You laugh gently before he pulls a pillow over and tucks it under your hips. He spits down, the spit gliding down your spread cheeks and running down your already wet pussy.
“Fuck baby, wanna fuck you so bad…. Lemme fuck you raw, yeah?” He asks while stroking up and down his rock-hard cock, a bead of precum already forming on his tip.
“Yeah fuck, fuck me raw baby, just put it in.” You say before he rubs his spit and your wetness around your pussy, pulling a moan out of you, before he guides the head of his cock through your folds. He bumps it against your clit a few times before guiding it back down until it catches on your hole. You moan and bury your face in the bedsheets, hands gripping the comforter. He pushes it in without any further delay, letting you adjust to his girth and size before he even thinks about moving. He slaps his hand down on your ass and moans at the feeling of you clenching around him. He starts to rock his hips and thrust into you. The memories of thinking that you were flirting with Jacob come back to him. He starts to thrust his hand into you, needing this. Needing to take control of you and show you how much he loves you, needs you, and appreciates you.
“Ughhh Joe, Joe please baby!” You say, almost yelling, which makes him groan at how much power he actually has over you.
“Yeah, baby fuck keep screaming like that for me! Dirty fucking slut, all cock hungry and needy.” He groans and starts to slap his hips against yours again. The sounds of sex fill the air alongside your moans and groans. Sweat has started to bead on his forehead and chest. He bends down more so he can bite at the back of your shoulders. Leaving behind dark bruises in his wake as he continues to slap up against you.
“Fuck Joe, I need… I need,” Before you continue he answers for you.
“I know what you need, babe, don't worry, I got ya.” He says before reaching down to rub at your clit. His actions cause you to moan and whine at the overstimulation and the feeling of him being so full and warm inside of you. He can feel you start to clench around him more, signaling your release is nearing. He starts to go harder, knowing he's just as close as you are.
“Fuck baby cum for me, fuck cum on my dick, come on!” He says before snapping back into you and rubbing your clit at the same time. He pushes you over the edge as you moan and clench around him.
“Fuck, gonna, gonna cum inside of you ughhh gonna just bury my cum in you and get you pregnant!” This wasn't unusual talk from Joe, who loved the thought of getting you knocked up and full of him. He quickly pumps himself inside of you, cumming deeply and groaning at the feeling. You continue to pulse around him while he finishes. After he's done, he pulls out, collapsing beside you on the bed. He's on his side, looking at you, and reaches to push some of the hair out of your face.
“I love you.” You say, gently leaning in to kiss his jaw. He looks back at you, cheeks flushed from the pleasure.
“I love you too. I just… I wanna be with you forever.” He says, before you both smile and kiss each other deeply. He holds you against his chest for the rest of the night, stroking your hair gently. You remain entangled together, breathing each other in.
Thank you so much for reading <3
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Okay idk what happened this was supposed to be a small blurb but i got carried away..... anyway husband!steve who lovessss taking care of you every chance he gets 😵💫
he loves taking you on little weekend getaways just to get away from the craziness of your lives with balancing the kids and work, just to have you all to himself and escape the noise for a little while. at the house, as much as you hate to admit it, its so hard to actually have some time together. you almost always get interrupted. so, he loves to book you guys a little trip at a fancy hotel, he always gets a suite because you deserve the best. and hes such a romantic with it too, flower petals all over the bed like youre newlyweds.
neither of you waste any time the moment you enter the hotel room. his hands fly to your hips, your lips crashing together hungrily. you're undoing the buttons of his shirt rather aggressively, popping a few off in the process. his hands move down to squeeze the fat of your ass, making you gasp. he taps your ass indicating for you to jump, which you oblige to, and wrap your legs around his hips. he guides you to the bed, never breaking the kiss, and places you down on the bed. you can feel the dampness of the rose petals on your back. with his shirt fully unbuttoned, thanks to your eagerness, hes able to finally tug it off, throwing it across the room, not caring where it lands. simultaneously, your hands move down to unfasten his belt and unzip his pants. you moan against each others mouth as you desperately tear off each others clothes.
“you’ve got no idea,” he pants, pressing another kiss to you, “how bad i needed this.”
once youre both fully naked, he throws your legs over his strong shoulders, lining himself at your entrance. he rubs his tip up and down your slit, smacking his dick against your clit.
“baby– dont tease,” you throw your head back.
he smiles at your neediness, "i've got you honey.”
“gonna take such good care of you. let me do all the work. relax, mama,” groans fall from his lips as he slowly pushes into you.
your eyes roll back as he deliberately thrusts in and out of you. steve looks down at you in adoration. youre the most beautiful thing hes ever seen. his wife. his. the fact that hes the one whos making you feel so good that only the white of your eyes are visible. the fact that hes the one whos making you whimper and moan beneath him. its driving him crazy. once your eyes return back to their normal state, and you look up at him with the same amount of love, he practically whines.
“youre so beautiful," he murmurs.
he leans down to kiss you, bending you further into the mattress. the new angle feels deeper, more intense. your walls flutter around him and soft gasps elicit from you. youre desperately clinging onto his bicep, trying your best to kiss him back as the immense pleasure takes over. the hotels bed springs creaks beneath you with each thrust. the petals are scattered wildly, some falling on the floor. his nose brushes over yours, inhaling sharply while he deepens the kiss. steve is so sensual, he knows you like the back of his hand, always knowing just what you need. after all this time, being married, having kids and experiencing life together, he never fails to make you feel like youre the only girl in the world.
steve pulls away from the kiss, bracing his forehead against yours. his pace picks up slightly, “love you. so fucking much.”
“i love you more, stevie,” you moan, “harder, please.”
he mounts his elbows on either side of your head, “yeah? you want it harder?”
“mhm,” you whine, nodding, “give it to me, baby.”
steve thrusts into you harder. your back arches, and steves arm wraps around you, pulling you impossibly closer as his thrusts become more intense.
“right there, dont stop.”
he only grunts in response, catching your lips once more in a needy kiss. steve moves his hand to rub your clit. you shudder beneath him, and a loud, high pitched whine falls from your lips. his hips stutter, his own orgasm caving in on him.
“stevie– so close,” you mewl
“right behind you, honey. cum for me.”
your body trembles and every nerve in your body explodes as you cum around him. the feeling of your pussy spasming wildly around his length makes steve groan. his abdomen flexes as he cums inside of you, and you both surrender to the pleasure. steve shifts his body weight so hes completely on top of you, placing soft kisses on your breast. he rolls off of you, letting out a sharp exhale. you both lay there for a while, breathing heavily.
you break the silence.
“round two in the shower?”
steve grins like hes a kid in the candy store. in sync, you both hurry to the bathroom. the waters already running by the time you step into the sleek, glass walk-in shower together. your tits are pressed up against the cold glass. his hands are squeezing your hips as he presses firm kisses on the side of your neck and down to your shoulder. in one swift motion, he nudges your feet apart with his own, making room for him behind you. the warm water streams down your back, mixing in with the heat of his touch as he delicately slides his length inside you, coating his dick in both your juices from the previous round. you both let out a guttural moan as he bottoms out. steves hands massage the fat of your ass, before carefully spreading you open.
“h-holy shit,” he stutters.
hes hypnotized by the way your pussy grips his dick, “fuck me– ‘s so pretty. sucking me right in.”
one hand snakes back to your hip, the other grabbing your hair firmly, tugging it back against him. steve attacks the crook of your neck, biting it, sure to leave marks the next day. he licks a stripe up your neck before nibbling on your earlobe, evoking a high pitched whine from you.
he pulls your hair harder, “such a good girl. my girl.”
the praise goes straight to your core.
“no idea how bad ive wanted you,” he grunts, “all to myself, ohfuck,” you clench around him, “no interruptions– jesus baby. ‘m not gonna last.”
he loosens his grip on your hair. steve moves his strong, freckled arm around your neck, putting you in a headlock. he pulls you closer to his body, his thrusts turning erratic and needy. wet skin slapping together fills the room. gentle praises are whispered in your ear as steam fills up the bathroom.
a helpless cry falls from you, “‘m gonna cum.”
his fingers begin to work against your clit. you swear youre seeing stars right now. he ruts into you harshly, desperate for you to finish.
“stevie,” you mewl, “ohmygod– oh fuck, im cumming.”
“holyshit, me too, cum with me,” the headlock becomes tighter around your neck.
with the way hes feverisly rubbing at your clit, fucking you so passionately, and how your head has gone fuzzy with how hard his bicep is squeezing against your neck, youre on a whole other planet. you feel the warmth of his cum fill you up as your body shakes, waves of pleasure flowing through you. he gently bites down on your shoulder as his own orgasm crashes throughout him. he slowly eases the grip he had on your neck, planting his forehead against your shoulder. he pulls out slowly, his cum immediately seeping out.
he moans at the sight, “fuck.”
he wraps his arms around you, holding you tight beneath the running water, peppering kisses on your neck.
“i love you so much,” he murmurs against your skin, “i hope you know how much you mean to me, beautiful.”
he affectionately rubs his hands up and down your body, “missed this. missed you.”
years have changed everything, but not this. not the way he holds you like you’re still the only thing that matters.
omg helllooo! i am in love with how you write hotch! maybe i request a bearded hotch sees his gf after being sent away for a while and well it gets steamy…
only angel ༝༚༝༚
ᯓ ✈︎ aaron hotchner x reader
ᯓ ✈︎ summary: hotch gets back from pakistan, he's very excited to be home with his girl <3
ᯓ ✈︎ word count: 1.6k
ᯓ ✈︎ content warning’s: where do i even start?? i'm going to hell. not proofread, smut MDNI, p in v, doggy style, sex on a countertop, daddy kink (and i'm not even sorry), breeding kink, cumming inside, slight degradation, dom!hotch x sub!reader, idk anything else lmk
ᯓ ✈︎ author's note: hello angel!! thank you so much for reading my work <33 i love that you love it! i hope you like this<33
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── ·
The sight of Hotch walking towards you on the tarmac is nothing short of a sight for sore eyes. You’d spent the last several months clinging to any form of communication from him whilst you wore his t-shirts to bed at night and sprayed his cologne on the pillows.
It was hard, harder than you’d thought it would be. Time spent away from one another wasn’t something uncommon considering Hotch’s line of work but this last stint in Pakistan was the longest the two of you have been apart.
So, there’s a justifiable reason why you immediately launch yourself towards him before he can even drop his bags. Your dress flows in the wind as you quite frankly tackle Aaron, your legs in the air as your arms wrap around his neck.
It’s then that you notice it. He’s grown a beard. Aaron had never held a particular preference for his own facial hair. He chose to keep himself clean shaven because he believed he made him look more professional but there were days where he’d be off work and too lazy to shave and there was nothing that had you drooling faster than Aaron with some stubble over his face.
He’d complained once that he looked like a lumberjack and wasn’t too amused to find you practically salivating over the sentiment. Safe to say, Hotch with facial hair was an uncommon occurrence in your house.
One you’re immensely fond of right now, you’re not sure you’d ever let him leave the house if he kept this beard up every day.
“Why hello there handsome,” you murmur, hand cupping one of his cheeks as you brush softly against his beard.
Hotch rolls his eyes, looking at you in fond amusement with his sunglasses pushed into his hair, “No ‘hello’ kiss for your boyfriend after not seeing him for a couple of months? You just wanna drool over my beard?” he spoke mockingly.
You bite your lip to hide your smile, eyes drifting from his beard to his face where he watches you with an adoring smile. You feel yourself become shy, not uncommon for you but simultaneously a sign that you and Aaron have been apart for a while.
Aaron’s eyes soften and he takes pity on you, slipping forward to meet you with a kiss. “O-oh.” You murmur, slipping into the kiss as a fuzzy feeling starts to creep through your brain, the only thoughts are that of Aaron’s muscular arms around you and the feeling of his beard tickling your face and neck slightly.
You whimper slightly as you draw back, eyes fluttering as you bring yourself out of the haze. Hotch’s expression is dark and predatory. He looks like he wants to devour you.
“W-we should uh—we should go home,” you stutter out, aware that you’re still on a very public tarmac and unwilling to give anyone more of a scene than you already have. Hotch seemingly decides it’s a good idea because without further ado, he places you back onto the floor, grabbing his bag with one hand and your hand with another as you both make your way inside.
˚₊‧꒰ა ✦ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
You’ve barely made it into the house before Aaron corners you. You’re dropping your keys onto the table when he comes up behind you and traps you between the counter and his body.
“Missed you sweet girl,” Aaron purrs softly, his voice tickling your ears as he pushes flush against you. The rough material of his tactical outfit brushes against your thighs and arms yet doesn’t hide the hard outline of his cock.
“A-Aaron” you mewl half-heartedly, pushing back into his erection. Your pussy clenches around nothing, slick starting to dampen your underwear. Your skin feels tight and buzzy, like you just can’t settle.
“That’s not my name baby,” Aaron coos, hand drifting down the front of your dress to cup your pussy over your clothes. A choked gasp escapes your mouth as you grind into his palm.
“What? I don’t—” you gasp, throwing your head back into Aaron’s chest as his fingers trace the covered folds of your pussy. Your legs slip further apart without warning.
“C’mon baby, you’re a smart girl—you know what I wanna hear.” Aaron murmurs, thumb now rubbing circles onto your clit, the fabric of your underwear brushing sweetly against your clit.
Your brain is floaty and quiet as you mewl as Aaron swirls his fingers on your clit. You feel so empty, you just want him to slip a finger inside of you—feel his cock stretching you out and filling you so completely.
“I—please-mm—please please need you—inside please” you beg, legs shaking as Aaron presses one of his fingers against the damp spot on your panty.
“Just gotta say the word sweetheart and I’ll give this tight little pussy what she wants.” Aaron croons mockingly, his tone is amused and slightly mean.
Tears prick your eyes in frustration as you feel your peak start to die down, the stimulation isn’t enough, you need more.
“Daddy” you cry desperately, mind mushy as you claw at Aaron’s biceps.
“Good girl,” Aaron groans and you feel his erection twitch against you. You moan sweetly, head rolling back to bite on Aaron’s bicep—leaving a soft indent in place as you continue to plead with him to stuff you full.
“Shh angel, Daddy’s here—Daddy’s gonna give you what you need.” His voice sounds as wrecked as you feel, eyes unfocused as you hear Aaron’s zipper drop down.
The heat of his erection burns through your skin, and you push back against him, “please-inside I-I need daddy please”
Aaron huffs a laugh behind you, lifting up your dress with one hand and tapping your hip to signal you to pull your underwear off. You do so immediately and the cool air brushing against your wet folds make you shiver.
“Oh honey,” Aaron coos condescendingly, “Your cunt’s practically dripping angel, you need Daddy that badly?”
You’re nodding as the sounds muffle around you, all you can hear is the sound of you repeating “yesyesyesyesyes” over and over.
Aaron uses his hand to drag his cock against your folds, covering it in your slick. The first touch of his cock against your hole has you gasping and whining as you head falls forward, “nng—Daddy please, put it in.” you plead.
Hotch’s arm wraps around your waist, dragging you back towards him as he lines up his cock. His tip barely breaches your hole before you’re gasping for air and squirming in his hold trying to thrust yourself back into him.
You slump in his hold and let him thrust forward achingly slow, you feel every inch drag across your insides as his cock fills you pussy.
“fuck fuck-” you mewl as his tip hits your cervix, your pussy leaks around him like a faucet adding to the slick glide of his cock as he thrusts in small intervals to get you used to his cock after being gone for so long.
“thaaat’s it baby—good girl.” He groans as he bottoms out as he tightens his arm around you, his forehead falls to your nape as he breathes in deeply, It’s been a while since he’s felt the soft, hot and tight fucking clench of your cunt around him and he’s gonna take a few seconds if he doesn’t wanna blow his load like a goddamn teenager.
He starts with slow thrusts into your velvet folds, the slick sounds of your wetness gushes around the both of you as your pussy drools around him. You’re a perfect fucked out mess, eyes half-lidded and mouth open as you make little punched out sounds every time Aaron thrusts forward.
“Fuck-you’re so tight-Daddy forgot how needy this little pussy can be, I’m not gonna last—ha, need you to cum soon” Aaron grunts, placing scattered kisses down your neck before biting softly into your shoulder.
You squeal as the pain mixes with the pleasure, aiding the dizzying headrush you already feel. Your hand sneaks from the table counter to your clit to swirl your fingers around the bundle of nerves.
The feeling is so intense with Aaron’s cock hitting your g-spot that you immediately feel your high approaching, clenching down tightly onto Aaron’s cock—forcing him to stutter in his thrusts as he muffles a pained groan into your shoulder.
“close—m’close, Daddy need-” your thoughts are a jumbled mess but Hotch seems to know exactly what you need, slapping your hand away from your clit as his own rough fingers replace your own.
His pace picks up, he thrusts deeper and harder into you which punches the air out of your lungs. You’re reduced to punching out all ‘uh uh uh’ sounds as Aaron practically rearranges your insides.
“Daddy’s gonna cum baby—gonna fill you up nice and full huh?” Aaron growls, eyes clenched tightly shut as he feels his balls draw up, the telltale sign he’s about to burst.
“Cum in me daddy-fill me—want you to breed me please.” You whine out, squirming at the force of Aaron’s thrusts as you feel his cock twitch inside you which makes you clench again harshly drawing out a punched out sound from Aaron.
“Gonna give you a baby honey-fuck you take me so good—Daddy’s gonna breed you.” He’s as good as gone, lost to his own personal damnation that’s the heaven between your thighs.
You feel your orgasm approaching and you squeal as you squirt wetly around Aaron’s cock, practically blacking out from the pleasure as he continues to jackhammer into you before stilling and groaning loudly as hot pumps of his cum flood your pussy.
Hiii! I just discovered your blog and I’ve been reading everything!!!!!!! Idk if ur taking request but I just really want to read a Joe or Steve smut where like it’s their first time but not actually first, just like as a couple yk? So there’s just lots of communication and clumsiness and just trying to figure out what the other likes and teaching each other. Anyways, no pressure!! LOVE YOUR WRITING
⌯⌲ Joe Drabbles Masterlist
Ooo, I'm going to do this as Joe cause I have a separate request for an inexperienced version with Steve but let's be honest - Joe would be more clumsy anyway.
Man would be too focus and just forget his surroundings, or be like extra cautious to not hurt you that it's a bit broken up by his need to check on you.
So let's imagine you're on Joe's couch, kissing deep and in an extremely heated session, his hand has dared to sneak under your shirt, thumb brushing ever so slightly across your nipple through the lace of your bra, and you could feel him hesitating.
"Okay," he breathes against your neck, pulling back slightly. "Okay, I need to - can we actually just talk for a second?"
You blink confused, was there something wrong? You can feel your arousal dripping into your underwear. "Yeah ah - yes."
He sits up slightly, running a hand through his hair, you can see just how visibly hard he is in his jeans. "I really want to do this. With you. But I don't want to just... assume I know what you like, because I don't. I just…" He laughs, embarrassed as he tries to explain. "I want to do it right. With you."
You reach for his hand, pressing it back against your breast firmly as confirmation that your okay with this. "I don't know what you like either."
"So we figure it out?"
"Together."
The first time his finger dips below you waistband, it was a little too light - his fingers slide through your folds with teasing, and very tentative strokes when you need pressure more than anything. You guided his hand, pressing his middle finger firmer against your clit, showing him how hard to press as he circles.
"Kinda like that?" he asks, watching your face intently as he rubbed tighter circles.
"You can go harder. Yeah - " You gasp as he does, hips bucking into his palm. "Just like that."
He groans feeling you relax, delighted to hear those sounds fall from your lips, and kisses you messily, never stopping the motion of his fingers. "Good. Good, tell me more. Fuck you're so wet, baby. Is this for me?"
"All for you," you manage, nails digging into his shoulder.
He slips one finger inside you, then two, curling to try and find the spot that makes your yell and smiles when he does. "Yeah? Right there?"
"Fuck - yes. Joe, please - "
He works you further open with his hand, learning the way your muscles tightened around him as you get closer, the breathless sounds that fall from you when he presses deep. When you tug at his belt, he laughs - softly - against your shoulder.
"Sorry, it's - old. Stupid buckle."
"No let me." You swat his hand away as you finally get it open, but then hesitate, looking up at him. "How do you - what do you need?"
He guides your hand, wraps your fingers around his cock, he's thick, hot and leaking already. "Start slow. Wrap your hand - yeah. Mhmm tighter." He groans when you squeeze teasingly, head dropping back against the pillow, hips thrusting up into your grip. "Fuck yeah. Exactly that."
It was awkward getting fully undressed. Elbows bumping against each other. You get tangled in your own shirt. The couch creaks dangerously when he lays you back, and he knocks his teeth against yours trying to kiss you mid-reposition, and you both laugh, before he settles finally between your thighs.
"Is this okay?" he asks, positioning his cock against your entrance, gaze flicking between your eyes and where you were about to join. "Tell me if it's too much."
"It's okay," you whisper, pulling his hips closer. "Please. I just want to feel you."
He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, he's thick, stretching you open further, watching your face carefully. You wince slightly at the burn, and he stops immediately, stroking your hair tenderly.
"Breathe, sweetheart. Relax for me."
You exhale, and he bottoms out, filling you completely until he was sheathed to the root. He groans, long and low, forehead dropping against yours. "God, you feel - so tight. So good. Okay?"
"Move," you beg, nails racking against his back. "Please, Joe - "
He pulls out nearly all the way before thrusting back in, finding a rhythm - it's unsteady at first, too fast, then too slow, adjusting until he hits the angle the found earlier.
"There?" he pants, grinding his hips against your clit with every stroke. "That good?"
"Yes - don't stop - "
He fucks you hard now, rolling his thrusts, learning the way you clench around him, the pitch of your moans getting higher. He reaches between you, thumb finding your clit again, rubbing harder, desperate circles for you to cum over him.
"Close?" he asks, voice ragged, hips snapping. "Tell me what you need."
"Together," you whimper, arching into him. "Please cum with me - "
He groans, and you feel him begin to swell harder, pulse quickening - "Fuck, I'm gonna - " - he doesn't finish his sentence before he's spilling hot inside you as your own orgasm crashes over you, muscles spasming around him, milking him, both of you shaking, gasping and clinging to each other.
One you both reclaim your breath, he doesn't pull away. Just shifts his weight, still half-hard inside you, brushing hair away from your face with shaking fingers.
"You're incredible," he mumbles, kissing your swollen lips. "We knocked over your lamp."
"We'll buy a new one." You pull him closer, legs still wrapped around his waist. "Already wanna go again. Wanna learn everything about you."
He smiles against your neck, already stirring inside you again. "Yeah. Me too."
You just had the best hookup of your life and in the morning Eddie asks you to drop him off at the High School
WC 2700
warnings: smut 18+, minors DNI, oral f receiving, protected p i v sex, unprotected piv sex in the shower
You hadn't planned on ending up here.
The consulting gig had wrapped early—three days onsite with a client, and you'd been staring down another evening alone in a hotel room. You'd changed out of your blazer into jeans and a camisole and asked the woman at the front desk where the locals drank.
She'd looked you up and down and said, "The Hideout. Take a left on Route 4."
So here you were. Mid twenties, two gin and tonics deep, sitting alone at the end of the bar in a town you couldn't have found on a map yesterday, watching a band set up on a stage the size of a closet.
They were loud before they even started playing. The drummer kept hitting things for no reason. The bass player was arguing with someone about a cable. And the guitarist…
He was something else.
Dark curls to his shoulders, a beat-up denim vest over a Dio shirt, silver rings catching lights every time his hands moved. He had tattoos on his arms—you couldn't make them out from here, just dark shapes. He moved around the tiny stage, checking amps, tuning his guitar with the caress that made your stomach tighten. When he leaned into the mic to test it, his voice was low and warm, almost playful.
"Evening, freaks and lovely people. We are Corroded Coffin, and we are about to make your ears bleed."
Scattered cheers. He grinned—wide, wolfish, unself-conscious—and you felt it in your knees.
They launched into something fast and brutal, all crunching riffs and bass fury, and he played. His whole body moved with it, hair flying, fingers blurring on the fretboard, and every thirty seconds or so he'd throw his head back.
You forgot about your drink. You forgot about the client. You forgot your flight was tomorrow.
Halfway through their set, during a solo, his eyes swept the room and landed on you.
You didn't look away.
Neither did he.
He held your gaze through the rest of the solo, fingers still moving like they didn't need his brain involved, and the corner of his mouth curled up. Not a grin this time. Softer than that.
When the set ended, you expected the spell to break. You expected him to disappear backstage, or get swallowed by groupies, or turn out to be shorter than he looked from a distance. Instead he hopped off the stage, grabbed a beer from behind the bar, and walked straight to you.
"You're not from around here."
It wasn't a question.
"What gave it away?"
"You're sitting at the bar alone and you haven't thrown anything at us yet. That's basically a standing ovation around here." He took the stool next to you, close enough that his knee pressed against your thigh. Up close he was damp with sweat, curls sticking to his neck. You studied his rings against the beer bottle when he picked it up. "Also, you were watching me like I was doing something interesting. Most people in here just want us to turn it down."
"You were doing something interesting."
He tilted his head. His eyes were brown—dark and amused. "Yeah? What was that?"
"Playing guitar like the building was on fire and you didn't care."
That smile again. The wolfish one. "That's kind of the whole point of heavy metal, sweetheart."
"Don't call me sweetheart."
"What should I call you?"
You told him your name. He repeated it, and something about the way it sounded in his voice made your skin prickle.
"Eddie," he said, offering a ringed hand. "Eddie Munson. Guitar, vocals, bad decisions."
You shook his hand. His grip was firm. He didn't let go immediately.
———
You talked for twenty minutes. Maybe thirty. He was funny—sharp and self-deprecating and quick, the kind of person who said exactly what they were thinking. He asked you what you did. You told him about the consulting, about flying into towns like this to fix problems that could've been solved with a single competent hire. He laughed and said, "Sounds like hell."
"It is hell. That's why I'm here."
"Well," he leaned closer, "glad I could be your escape."
His hand was on the bar next to yours.
"You want to get out of here?" you said, and you meant it to sound casual, but it came out direct and low and unmistakable.
His eyes went dark. "Yeah," he said. "I really do."
Eddie turned toward the stage, where his bandmates were packing up, and called out—
"Hey! Gareth. Jeff." They looked over. "Take care of my gear. And the van. I'm—" he glanced at you, and that slow half-smile came back, "I'm indisposed."
The drummer—Gareth, apparently—looked from Eddie to you and back again. His expression said he'd seen this before.
"You owe me, Munson."
"Put it on my tab."
He slid off the stool and held out his hand.
———
You didn't make it to the parking lot.
He caught your wrist in the hallway by the bathrooms, pulled you into the dark alcove by the back door, and pressed you against the wall. His mouth found yours before you could say anything clever, and the kiss was…searing. Eddie kissed you with the same devotion he played his solo, one hand fisted in your hair. His tongue slid against yours and you made a sound into his mouth that should have embarrassed you, but his hips rolled into yours in response and you could feel exactly how much he didn't care about embarrassment either. You grabbed the front of his vest and pulled him closer because there was still too much space between you.
He tasted like cheap beer and devoured you like he'd die if he stopped. His shirt was still damp from the set. You could feel the heat of him through it.
"Your hotel," he said against your lips. "How far?"
"Ten minutes."
"Drive fast."
———
You drove fast.
His hand was on your thigh the entire drive, just resting there, his thumb tracing lazy circles that made it extremely difficult to focus on the road. He talked the whole way, something about the set and a song they'd been working on, and you heard approximately none of it because his hand kept drifting higher.
"Are you even listening to me?"
"No."
He laughed, low and delighted. "Good."
You were vaguely aware that you shouldn’t bring a stranger to your room, but then the door closed behind you and Eddie pressed you against it and every coherent thought dissolved.
His mouth was on your neck. Your hands were under his shirt, his skin hot, you dragged your nails down his chest and he groaned against your throat so low you felt it more than heard it.
"Off," you said, pulling at his vest, and he shrugged it off without lifting his mouth from your collarbone. You got his shirt over his head. He was pale and wiry, the tattoos you'd only half-seen under stage lights were right there now—bats crawling up his forearm, something darker on his shoulder you couldn’t identify yet. Eddie looked like trouble.
He pulled your camisole off in one motion, and when he saw you hadn't been wearing a bra, he stopped. Just stood there staring with his mouth slightly open, his chest still heaving.
"Wow," he breathed.
"Are you going to stare or are you going to do something?"
He did something.
He dropped to his knees.
Your jeans came off so fast you heard a seam protest. His hands wrapped around the backs of your thighs pulling your hips toward his face, and then his mouth was on you through the lace. Your head hit the door hard enough that you should have cared but didn't.
"Eddie—"
He pulled your underwear down. His tongue pressed flat against you, one long slow stroke, and then another, your hands found his hair and pulled. He moaned against you like that was exactly what he'd wanted, the vibration buzzing through your entire body, and then he stopped being gentle.
His mouth worked against you sucking, and licking, two fingers pushing inside you while his tongue circled your clit. You were loud, you knew you were loud, but he kept saying encouraging words against you like your noises were the best thing he'd ever heard. Your thighs were shaking. Your fingers were knotted in his curls. He curled his fingers and pressed his tongue down at the same time and you came so hard your vision whited out, your whole body clenching around his hand, a moan tearing out of you that didn't even sound like your own voice.
He stayed there through it, easing you down with slow soft strokes. When he stood up his chin was wet and he was grinning like he'd just won something.
"Bed," you managed.
He picked you up. Actually picked you up—your body in his arms, —and dropped you on the mattress. He stood at the edge of the bed unfastening his belt, and you watched leaning on your elbows.
He shoved his jeans and boxers down. You made a sound that was somewhere between appreciation and impatience.
"You have a condom?" you asked.
He pulled one from his wallet. "I was a Boy Scout for three weeks."
"Don't ever say that again."
He rolled it on and climbed over you. For a second he just hovered there—braced on his arms, hair falling around his face, those dark eyes on yours. He was still cocky, still Eddie, but there was something underneath it. Like he couldn't quite believe this was happening.
He pushed inside you and you both swore at the same time. The stretch was perfect.
He set a rhythm that was just this side of brutal, one hand loose around your throat, thumb stroking your racing pulse and the other holding your thigh open, and every thrust hit deep enough to knock the air out of you. The headboard banged the wall. The bed creaked. You wrapped your legs around him and dug your heels into his back and he cursed and drove in harder.
"Fuck—you feel—" He couldn't finish the sentence. You dragged him down by the neck, scratching it in despair, and kissed him, tasting yourself on his mouth.
He shifted the angle, hitching your hips up, and you actually cried out. He felt it, heard it, saw the way your body arched and he kept that angle, driving into that spot again and again. His forehead dropped against yours, his breath ragged.
"Come on," he said against your mouth, "come on, I want to feel it—"
You came again, harder than the first time, clenching around him in waves, and he groaned your name into the crook of your neck and followed you over the edge with three more thrusts, bottoming out.
For a long moment there was just breathing. His weight on top of you, heavy and real. His heart hammering against yours.
"Fuck yeah," he said.
You just panted.
"I mean—it was awesome."
"Yeah."
———
Eddie disposed of the condom, collapsed next to you, and stared at the ceiling. You lay there catching your breath, sweat cooling on your skin, too wrung out to move.
"I need a shower," you said eventually.
He turned his head to look at you. That smile again. "Want company?"
———
The shower was small. Eddie was not small. You wedged yourselves in under the spray and it should have been awkward but instead it was slippery and steamy and his hands were everywhere—soaping down your back, cupping your breasts, sliding between your legs while the hot water ran over both of you. You bit his bicep playfully.
He reached down and wrapped your hand around his cock, which hardened in your grip immediately, his head falling back against the tile.
"Again?" you asked.
"Again," he confirmed. "Definitely again."
He turned you around and you braced your hands against the tile wall. His mouth was on the back of your neck, biting gently, and then he was inside you again. Now it was different— no condom —and you moaned loud enough to echo off the bathroom tile.
The water ran over both of you. His hand snaked around your hip to find your clit, rubbing in tight circles while he thrust into you from behind, and his other arm was banded around your ribs holding you up because your legs had stopped being reliable.
It was slower this time but not softer. Deliberate. Each thrust measured and precise, filling you completely, his lips against your ear whispering things that made you clench around him—filthy things, explicit things, interspersed with your name in soft whisper.
You came with his fingers on your clit and his teeth on your shoulder. You breathed out his name. He pulled out a moment later, finishing on your buttocks. The water had gone lukewarm.
Neither of you cared.
———
You slept tangled together in the hotel bed, his arm heavy around your waist, his breath warm on the back of your neck. It was the best you'd slept in months.
Morning came too soon. You blinked awake to find Eddie already up. He was sitting on the edge of the bed in his boxers, hair a catastrophic mess, squinting at his watch.
"Morning, gorgeous," he said when he saw you were awake. His voice was rough with sleep and it did things to you that were deeply inconvenient given the time of day. "I need a huge favor."
You propped yourself up on your elbow. "What kind of favor?"
He rubbed the pink scratches on his neck. For the first time since you'd met him, he looked almost sheepish.
"I need a ride. To, uh. Hawkins High."
You stared at him. The silence stretched.
"The high school," you said flatly. You stared at him. The baby face under the wild hair, the lanky limbs, it all suddenly made sense. He probably was eighteen. Maybe nineteen if he’d been held back.
He must have read your terror —because he put both hands up immediately.
"Whoa, whoa. I'm twenty. Okay? I'm twenty. Born 1966. Do the math. This—" he gestured at himself, the stubble, the angles, "—is just what heavy metal does to you.
You pressed your fingers against your eyelids, “I thought you were… twenty-five. At least.”
"I've been held back. Twice," he continued. "Because I was busy—" he gestured vaguely, "—prioritizing the arts. But I am a legal, consenting, tax-paying—okay, I don't pay taxes, but I'm an adult, that is the point."
He scooted closer, and his proximity still made your pulse jump even now, even in the middle of this. His face changed—dropped the showman thing, the performance.
"I'm not a kid," he said, quieter now. "I'm just a guy who's bad at school and good at guitar and had the best night of his life with a beautiful woman who's way too smart to be consulting for people who can't figure things out on their own."
You looked at him for a long moment.
"I'm dropping you off two blocks away," you said.
He broke into that grin—the full one, the one that had gotten you into this mess. "Deal."
———
You drove him in your rental car through the flat, quiet streets following his direction and sipping hotel coffee, morning sunlight slanting through the windshield. He drummed on his knees to a song only he could hear.
Two blocks from Hawkins High, you pulled over.
He turned to you. For a second neither of you said anything.
"If you're ever back in town—" he started.
"I won't be."
"If you're ever back in town," he said again, like you hadn't spoken, "The Hideout. Every Friday and Saturday. Ask for Eddie."
He leaned across the center console and kissed you—slow this time, thorough, one hand cupping your jaw. When he pulled back, his thumb traced your lower lip.
"Thanks for the ride, sweetheart." He said, climbing out of the car with his vest slung over one shoulder.
"Bye, Eddie"
He shut the door. You watched him walk the two blocks to the school entrance, all loose limbs and denim and chaotic hair, utterly unconcerned with the world.
He didn't look back.
You sat there for a full minute, engine idling.
Then you laughed and put the car in drive.
Inspired by the fact that Joseph Quinn doesn’t nearly look twenty in S4
can i please request a little drabble where reader is super shy and inexperienced and joe is very experienced and he talks her through it nice and slow all gentle and loving… thank youuuuu 🫠🫠🫠
⌯⌲ Joe Drabbles Masterlist
Combined a few different asks into this one!
You were in your late twenties.
Late twenties, with a modestly successful career, a rescue cat named you'd taken in a few years ago, and absolutely zero sexual experience. Not because there was a lack of opportunity - you had been on dates, there was always almost moments, hands that wandered in curiosity and mouths that pressed where you weren't quiet ready for them. But no one had ever made you feel safe enough to go all the way. No one until Joe arrived.
Now, sitting in his sun-littered bedroom, you felt like you wanted to disappear and seep into the floorboards.
"I just - " Your voice cracks. You pull the oversized sweater your wearing - his sweater - over your knees, trying to hide. "It's so embarrassing, Joe. I'm not twenty. I should know what I'm doing. I should - "
"Hey." He was sitting beside you, not touching you. Giving you space you needed. "Can you look at me, babygirl."
The pet name sent a wave of flutter through your chest. You peek up at him.
"There's nothing embarrassing about waiting for the right person," he says softly. "And there's nothing wrong with needing some help the first time as well." He reaches out, slowly, giving you time to pull away if you change your mind, he brushes your hair from your face. "I like that you're soft. I like that you need me to take care of you. Makes me feel like the luckiest bastard alive that you chose me."
Your eyes are burning. "You're just saying that."
"I'm saying it because it's true." He shifts closer now, voice dropping an octave - that tone that turns your insides to honey. "And because I have plans for you, sweetheart. Gonna teach you and learn exactly what you like. What makes you gasp. What makes you beg for more." His thumb is tracing your lower lip. "But only if you want me to. Only if you trust me."
"I trust you," you whisper. "I just don't want to disappoint you."
Joe laughs - not at you, but with you, warm and delighted. "Baby, you could never disappoint me even if you tried. Now c'mere. Let's start with kissing first. You like kissing me, don't you?"
You nod, already leaning in.
"Good girl," he mutters, and the praise lights you up from within. "Show me how you like to be kissed now. Soft? Deep? Little nips?" He taps his lips. "Teach it to me tonight."
So you do. You press your mouth to his, very tentative at first, and he just follows your lead - mirroring your pressure, the pace you set, humming small encouragements when you do something he likes. When you suck his lower lip between yours, he groans, hands settling against your waist.
"That's it," he breathes into your mouth. "Just like that. You're such a quick learner, baby. So good at this."
You melt into him further, confidence building up. He lets you explore - tongue tracing the seam of his lips, teeth grazing along his jaw, open-mouthed kisses pressing down his throat - until your both feeling breathless and you can feel him hard against your hip.
"Fuck," he laughs, slightly dazed. "Okay, you're a little too good at that. Gotta slow down before I lose my mind." He guides your hands to his shoulders, then lower, across his chest. "Touch me. Anywhere you want. I wanna hear what you like about me."
You explore tentatively - the soft planes of his stomach, the hair that trails below his waistband, the sharp breath he takes when your thumb brushes against his nipple. He watches you with heavy-lidded focus, murmuring small yes, just like that and you're perfect, babygirl until you grow bold enough to palm him through his jeans.
Joe hisses, hips bucking against your touch. "There you go. Feel what you do to me? All because you're being so brave. So fucking perfect." He covers your hand with his, showing you the pressure he likes. "Like this. Yeah. Just like that."
"Can I - " You swallow hard. "Can I see you? Touch you properly?"
"Fuck, yes. Please."
He helps you to undo his jeans, lift his hips, push everything down together. And then he was there - cock thick and flushed, so beautiful, and you felt another spike of nerves because you had no idea what to do with it.
"Come here," Joe soothes, sensing your hesitation. He settles back against the pillows, spreading his legs slightly, inviting you to come closer. "Climb up here, baby. Between my thighs. I'll talk you through it."
You crawl up, feeling small and exposed in just your underwear and his sweater, but his gaze was so full of just adoring you.
"First," he said, taking your hand and wrapping it around the base of his shaft, "just hold it. Get used to the weight. The feel." He guides you through a slow stroke, showing you the rhythm. "That's it. Perfect. You look so pretty holding my cock like that, sweetheart. So focused."
You duck your head, blush creeping across your face, but you don't stop. You learn the spots that made him groan - how sensitive underside is, the slick head beading precum already, the way he twitches when you twist your wrist the right way.
"Now," he continues, voice straining but patient, "if you want to use your mouth - and only if you want to - you start slow. Take just the tip first. Lots of tongue. Don't try to take too much, okay? I'll let you know what feels good."
You want to. You want to make him feel as good. Take care of him as much as he's taking care of you.
You lower your head and lick a tentative stripe up his shaft, and Joe's hand's immediately fist the sheets. "Fuck. Yeah. Just like that, baby. You're doing so good."
Feeling encouraged, you take the head between your lips, sucking gently, swirling your tongue. The taste was intimate - salt and skin mixing together - you find yourself moaning around him, vibrations making him gasp more.
"Jesus, babygirl. Where'd you learn to do that?" He threads his fingers through your hair, not pushing you further, just holding you. "So wet and warm. Taking me so well. Look at you - look at you - being such a good little cocksucker for me."
The filth of his sentence should have shocked you. Instead, it made your pussy ache, makes you hollow your mouth around him and take him deeper, until you feel him hit the back of your throat and had to pull back, gagging.
"Easy, easy," Joe soothes, tugging you off and up towards him, kissing your swollen lips. "You don't have to deepthroat me, baby. You're already perfect. Already got me so close." He flips you onto your back, hovering over you, eyes dark with restraint. "But I want to make you feel good now. Can I take my sweater off? Wanna see all of you."
You nod, arms lifting for his help, and he peels the fabric away with gentle care. His gaze traces your body - your stomach, your modestly sized breasts, the plain cotton underwear that suddenly felt absurdly vulnerable.
"Gorgeous," he breathes. "So soft and sweet, mine. Gonna take such good care of you, babygirl. Gonna make you feel so good you'll forget you were ever nervous to begin with."
He starts at your neck - kisses and sucks hard enough to leave marks - working his way down to your breasts. When he takes a nipple into his mouth, you cry out, arching off the bed.
"Sensitive here?" he askes, looking up with a wicked smile. "Good to know. I'll remember that." He switches to the other breast, lavishing it with attention until you were writhing, panting, needy.
"Joe, please - "
"I know, baby. I know." He kisses down your stomach, fingers hooking in your underwear. "Can I? Wanna taste you. Wanna show you how good I can make you feel."
"Yes, yes, please - "
He strips you bare and settles between your thighs, pushing your legs wider with gentle loving hands. You tried to close them automatically - feeling exposed, too exposed - but he shushes you, presses kisses along your inner knees.
"You're so beautiful here too," he promises. "Pink, wet and eager. Can't wait to eat this pretty little pussy until you're screaming." He looks up, meeting your eyes. "Watch me, babygirl. Watch me make you feel good."
The first touch of his tongue already makes you see stars. He was skilled - each stroke, patient, finding your clit with unerring accuracy and circling with just the right pressure. When he slides one finger inside, he curls to find that sensitive spot, you nearly jump off the bed.
"Oh! Oh, Joe - "
"That's it," he murmurs against you, the vibration making you gasp. "Let me hear you. Don't hold back. Wanna know exactly what you like so I can do it again and again." He adds a second finger, stretching you gently, preparing you for him, tongue never stopping its perfect pace. "Your so tight, baby. Gonna feel so good when I finally get inside. Gonna fill you up so perfectly."
The combination of his words - filthy, filthy words delivered in that soft, loving tone - and the relentless pleasure had you teetering on the edge embarrassingly fast.
"Joe, I'm gonna - I'm close - "
"Come for me, babygirl," he urges, sucking your clit between his teeth. "Come on my tongue. Let me taste you. Give it to me."
You shatter with a wail, back arching, fingers tangled in his hair as wave after wave crashes through you. His tongue never stops through it, gentler now, easing you down until you were limp and trembling.
He crawls up your body, kissing you harsher now, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "There's my good girl," he whispers, stroking your hair. "Came so pretty for me."
"I want you inside me," you choke out, still dizzy. "Joe, I want - "
"I know, baby. I know." He reaches for the condom on the nightstand, pushing it on slowly. "But we're gonna go slow. Gonna make sure you're ready." He positions himself at your entrance, the blunt pressure making you whimper. "Tell me if it hurts. Tell me if you need to stop. Promise me now."
"I promise," you gasp, and he begins to push in.
The stretch was intense - burning and overwhelming, his cock is so much bigger than his fingers. You tense automatically, nails digging into his back, and he freezes, forehead pressing against yours, shaking with restraint.
"Breathe, babygirl," he coaches, voice strained. "Breathe for me. Let me in. You're doing so good. So brave for me."
Your focused on his eyes - dark and loving, fixed on you - and forces your body to relax. The burn softens, shifts entirely, became something else. Something that made you roll your hips experimentally, seeking more friction.
Joe groans, this fucked broken sound. "Fuck. Fuck. Okay? You okay?"
"Move," you beg
"Please, Joe. I need you to move."
He starts slow - deep, rolling thrusts that spark pleasure with every new stroke. His hands find yours, fingers interlacing, pinning your hand to the pillow above your head.
"Look at me," he commands softly. "Stay with me, baby. I want to see you when you cum."
"Don't know if I can do it again - "
"You can," he promises, shifting his angle with precision, and suddenly he was hitting that fucking spot he found earlier, and your back arches into him. "There. Right there. Just like that." His free hand slips between you, finding your clit, circling in perfect time with his thrusts. "Gonna cum for me again, babygirl? Gonna squeeze my cock so tight?"
"Joe - "
"Tell me what you want," he demands, voice dropping to that filthy growl now. "You like it deep? Slow? Want me to fuck you harder?"
"Mhmm! Harder," you gasp, shocked by your own words. "Please, Joe, harder - "
He gives you what you need - thrusts rocking the bed, driving you up the mattress, white sparking behind your eyes. The combination of his cock hitting that spot and his fingers on your clit was devastating, building you up impossibly fast for a second orgasm.
"That's it," he grunts. "Taking my cock so well. So perfect for me. Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna be a good girl and cum on my fat cock?"
"Yes, yes, I'm gonna - "
"Do it. Now. Now, babygirl - "
You cum with a scream, inner walls pulling around him, and Joe follows close with a groan, burying himself deep, your name breaking across his lips like a prayer.
He doesn't pull away immediately. Staying tangled with you, still inside, stroking your hair in praise, pressing kisses anywhere he could reach.
"Hey," he murmurs, when your breathing finally slows. "You okay?"
You turned your head towards him. Finding him watching you with something like similar to wonder.
"Yeah," you whisper, smiling, tired and happy. "I'm really okay."
Joe's grin was huge. "Good." He kisses your nose. "Because I love you, and I plan on doing that approximately a thousand more times. With breaks for snacks, obviously. And naps. You're gonna need your strength."
You laugh, burying your face in his neck, smelling his sweat and the sweet sent of sex on his skin.
"Love you too," you mumble.
His arms tighten around you, and you fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.
A/N: I gotta stop writing smut in the mornings FUCK it just kept going!
warnings/tags: SMUT!, established relationship, oral (f!receiving), p in v, fingering, unprotected sex, slight hair pulling, etc.
summary: finn gets his haircut for season five of strangers things and you get horny!!!!
wc: 1934
find my masterlist here!
hiii lovlies!!! im back! (for now lol) sorry for disappearing, yk how it goes school, work, lack of inspo, etc. ANYWAYS finn wolfhard/mike wheeler has awakened a lot of things within me with the release of season five of stranger things (even though i've always had a crush on him... dw we're the same age, i am NOT gracie abrams lol). so, here i am with a new story! this is also my first crack at smut so sorry if it suckssss
-------------------------------
“Baby,” a hushed voice broke the silence in the dimly lit room.
“I’m heading out for the day,” the voice paused, “My schedule isn’t too busy today, just some costume fittings, so I should be back in time for dinner,” you cracked your eyes open, squinting up at your boyfriend.
You let out a hum of acknowledgement, sleep still very present in your demeanor. It was a Saturday morning, your day off, but the life of an actor was hectic and unpredictable, which is exactly why your boyfriend, Finn Wolfhard, was waking you up at the crack of dawn to bid you goodbye.
Finn chuckled at your reaction, stroking your head as you leaned into his touch. Finn leaned down to peck your lips, muttering under his breath about your morning breath, to which you tiredly smacked his arm.
“I love you Finn. Have a good day,” you softly called out as he exited your shared bedroom.
“I love you too darling,” Finn called back from the hallway. After a few minutes of shuffling, you heard the front door close and the lock click, and you were out once again.
When you finally awoke, the sun was fully up and shining through your bedroom window. You decided to get a jumpstart on your day, doing mundane tasks and chores to pass the time until Finn returned home from set.
By the time it hit 4 o’clock, you decided to take a shower and wash up before starting on dinner. You picked a simple pasta dish and got to work. You had just finished making the pasta sauce and began adding the pasta noodles when you heard the familiar jingle of keys unlocking the door.
You continued adding the noodles in the sauce, your back to the door, “Hi baby! You’re just in time for dinner, I’m just finishing up,” you called out.
“It smells so good darling. I’m fucking starving. Let me go wash up real quick and I’ll be right out,” Finn replied, heading into your bedroom to put his belongings away.
You plated the food and placed it on the coffee table in the living room and turned on the TV. This was your typical dinner routine with Finn, a dinner and a show, “Can we watch Bob’s Burgers tonight?” You asked.
From the other room Finn hollered, “Yeah, put on whatever you want baby,” you queued up the show and waited for Finn before you hit play.
Sat on the couch, you scrolled on your phone as your boyfriend entered the room. You quick peaked up from the video you were watching before doing a double-take at Finn. In that moment, you swore time slowed down.
Finn got a haircut and it was a damn good one.
You could feel your face get hot as you took in Finn’s changed appearance, “What do you think baby? This is season five Mike Wheeler’s new look” He said and spun to give you a full view of the hairstyle.
“Well Finn, I think everyone is going to go feral for it,” you said matter-of-factly.
Finn laughed at your words and sat down next to you, rubbing your thigh he instructed you to start the show and grabbed his plate of food, scarfing it down as if it was his last meal on earth.
Mirroring Finn’s actions, you hit play and grabbed your plate, however you couldn’t help but be very distracted. Despite your favorite show being on the screen, your eyes couldn’t leave Finn’s new haircut.
Liking the look on Finn was the understatement of the year, you thought it made him look even sexier than usual. The way the hair framed his sharp features handsomely and the way his little waves and curls made him look so adorable. You honestly couldn’t take your eyes off your boyfriend.
Finn could feel your staring at him and subtly watched you from the corner of his eye. He knew you would like the new look but he didn’t think that you would like it this much.
Clearing his throat, he set down his food before turning to look at you, “You’re staring darling,” despite being caught, you didn’t look away. You were now getting the best view possible of your boyfriend.
“I can’t help it baby. You look really fucking good right now,” it was Finn’s turn to blush now. With the way you were looking at him, eyes blown out and cheeks slightly flushed, you looked like a predator getting ready to pounce on their prey.
You reached your hand up to run through Finn’s curls, slightly tugging on it, Finn let out an unexpected moan of surprise.
A devious grin appeared on your face as soon as you heard the noise and you wanted, no, needed to hear it again.
You pushed Finn’s body back and swung your leg over his thighs so you were now straddling his lap, your clothed heat pressed against his growing erection.
You scanned Finn’s face once more before leaning in. This kiss was messy and full of need, your hands found their way back to his hair and Finn’s snaked their way down to your ass.
With every tug on his hair, Finn let out a muffled moan. You could feel him getting harder by the second as he guided your hips to grind on his dick. Finn pulled away from the kiss and threw his head back, “Fuck baby, it feels so good.”
He brought his hands to the hem of your shirt, tugging it off and immediately groaning when finding out you were braless.
His mouth instantly found your left breast while he kneaded and pinched your right nipple. You moaned, the feeling shooting directly to your cunt, which was growing wetter by the second.
You ground your hips harder and with more fervor onto Finn’s clothed cock, needing all the friction you could get, and yet it still wasn’t enough.
“Shit,” you moaned, needing to feel Finn in you. You tried to pull his mouth away from your nipple to which he just sucked harder, “Please, I need you,” you said airily.
Finn pulled his head back and caught your lips in a kiss once more. He wrapped his arms around your body as he guided you to lay down on the couch.
Now hovering above you he pecked your lips a few times before trailing sloppy kisses down your body, stopping right at the waistband of your bottoms.
The tips of his fingers dipped into your waistband and slowly began to pull them down your legs as he peppered kisses down them, purposefully skipping over where you needed him most.
“Quit being a tease, you dick,” you breathed out. Finn chuckled and brought his fingers to your panty covered cunt. He rubbed circles on your clit and kissed and licked at your hole.
You moaned at the sudden feeling, “Fuck Finn. Please…Please just take them off, I need to feel you.”
“You’re so goddamn needy baby. Can’t you just take what I give you?’ He replied back meanly but still obliged, pushing your panties to the side and attaching his lips to your cunt. Your eyes rolled back, finally getting the relief that you needed.
His fingers found their way to your wet hole, slipping them in, you whined at the sudden intrusion, “Look at that baby, they just went right in. You’re so wet for me, so fuckin’ sexy,”
Finn continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, bringing his lips back to your pussy.
You looked down at his head in between your legs, his mop of hair splayed across his forehead, the sight was almost too much for you to handle.
Reaching down you grip his hair, pushing him further into your cunt, his large nose rubbing against your clit.
The pressure began to build in your abdomen, “I’m gonna cum baby! Please don’t stop!” At your words Finn’s fingers and tongue sped up, pushing you over the edge.
Your hips thrashed as you came, juices flowing from your cunt and Finn lapped up every last drop, “You taste so fucking good,” Finn brought his face back up to yours, capturing your lips once more, making you taste yourself.
Bringing your hand to Finn’s bulge, you rubbed him through his sweatpants, Finn moaned into your mouth at the feeling. Your other hand pulled at the strings, desperately wanting the fabric gone.
Finn kicked off his sweatpants, leaving him only in his pre-cum stained boxers. Reaching underneath the waistband, you gripped his length and began to stroke it, spreading his pre-cum. You sped up your hand, making Finn’s whines louder and more frequent
Breathing harshly, Finn gripped your wrist, halting your movements, “Wait…Stop. I don’t wanna cum yet,” you giggled, “Gonna cum already?”
“I can’t help it. Your hands feel too good,” Finn sighed.
“Well lucky for you, I’ve got something that feels even better.”
Your lips met Finn’s once more in a softer kiss as you pushed him back into a sitting position, your cunt once again flush against his clad covered cock. You raised your hips slightly, allowing Finn to slip his boxers off.
A sigh slipped past your lips, finally feeling Finn’s bare cock against your naked pussy. You slid your hips back and forth along the length of his member, his tip catching against your entrance.
“Now who’s the one teasing?” Finn asked with his head thrown back, bliss written across his face. Stopping you movements, you reached down, grabbing Finn’s cock and placing it at your entrance.
His cock slipped past your entrance with ease, the two of you let out a sigh simultaneously as you slid down his length. Once you bottomed out, you sat there for a second, pleasure pulsing through your veins.
Finn shifted his hips, signalling you to start moving. You rocked your hips back and forth along his cock, moans slipping from your lips. Your eyes racked Finn’s face, sweat starting to form, making his hair wet and somehow even sexier.
Moving your hips faster, you watched Finn’s face contort with ecstasy. Suddenly, he gripped your hips, stilling them. He then thrusted his hips up and guided you to bounce in sync, both of your middles meeting at the same time.
With each thrust a moan was forced out of you, “Oh my fucking god! You fuck me so good. So fucking deep,” your words spurred Finn to thrust even harder, removing a hand from your waist and pressing it against your lower abdomen.
“Fuck baby, you feel me in there?” You moaned at the pressure of his hand on your stomach, “Bouncing on my dick like a good girl, shit feels so fucking good. Look at your titties,” he reached up to pinch your nipples and you moan at the feeling.
“Just wanna be like this all the time, don’t want it to ever end,” your cunt clenched at his words.
“Yeah fuck, you want that? You want your hole stuffed all the time?” You nodded your head, biting your bottom lip as you felt his dick pulse inside you.
“Shit, m’gonna cum,” Finn moaned, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit.
The two of you reached your climaxes at the same time, your body falling into Finn’s frame as you reached your high. Finn pumped his hips weakly, releasing his cum inside you in thick spurts.
As you both came down from your highs, you rested your foreheads together.
Finn lets out a soft laugh, “I think m’gonna keep this haircut for the rest of my life.”
synopsis: y/n has had a crush on mike wheeler since forever. one night in mike’s basement sends her over the edge, and mike has to make it up to her.
warnings: angst, p in v, fingering, cunnilingus, fingering, breeding if u squint, porn with plot, cussing
a/n: thank you all so much for all the love on my other fic! i hope this one is just as good (if not better). i am VERY new to writing smut, so it’s lowk buns…
wc: 3.2k
“It’s always been you.”
Mike had never really been good at the whole articulating-your-feelings thing. Maybe it was because of his parents, or maybe he was just stupid. Either way, it clung to him like a bad habit, infecting every relationship he had, romantic or not.
His friends knew it better than anyone.
The party had ended up at Mike’s house, mostly because there was absolutely nothing else to do in Hawkins. Small-town life sounded charming until you were stuck in it, bored out of your mind. Some random horror movie played in the background. Something old and grainy, probably The Shining. It didn’t really matter. Its only job was to fill the silence.
Lucas and Max were sprawled on the floor together, giggling and ‘secretly’ holding hands even though everyone knew they were. Will and Dustin hunched over some DnD setup, arguing about something Y/N barely registered. The details blurred together in the grand scheme of things.
Mike sat in the middle of it, with El tucked comfortably against his side. Y/N sat on his other side. She was close enough to feel the warmth, but far enough to feel completely out of place. Mike leaned toward El without even realizing it, his shoulder angled just slightly away from Y/N.
They had been inseparable since the day Mike found El in the woods, god knows how long ago. It was great, amazing even. Totally didn’t make Y/N want to claw her eyes out every time they got a little too close.
Y/N had been part of the party since before it felt like time even mattered. Through bad grades, broken bikes, and interdimensional monsters, they’d stuck together. Especially Mike. He was the leader, of course.
She has had a crush on Mike Wheeler since at least the 3rd grade. But if she was being honest, it had been since the first time Y/N saw Mike. However, those feelings stayed locked away, buried where no one would know. Y/N had blabbed to Max and Dustin over the years, but they never said anything.
Maybe that was why El’s presence bothered Y/N so much. Because she had the confidence to confess to him, and Y/N didn’t. So now they sat cuddled together on Mike’s couch, about three seconds away from leaving to go swap spit. No one would be all too surprised by it either; most of the party had gotten used to it anyway, but even after months of it happening, it still made Y/N sick to her stomach.
Y/N sat rigid a few inches away from Mike, fingers tugging anxiously at the hem of her shirt. El’s head rested on Mike’s shoulder, her hands wrapped gently around his arm, legs draped over his like she belonged there.
It was disgusting.
Y/N’s face betrayed her before she could stop it, twisting into a grimace sharp enough to catch Dustin’s attention.
“Y/N?” he said, squinting at her. “You good?”
She snapped out of her trance, heart pounding like she had just been caught doing something illegal. “Yeah,” she mumbled, shifting her weight uncomfortably. Her eyes flickered to Mike just in time to catch him laying his head down on El, which was more than enough to send her over the edge.
“Y’know, I have to get home.” She announced, suddenly standing. A few concerned glances were shared across the room.
“The movie is just getting good!” Max protested, gesturing towards the TV.
Y/N shrugged as she grabbed her things, movements stiff and rushed. “It’s fine,” she muttered, barely audible.
Mike’s eyebrows drew to confusion as he watched Y/N, “It’s only 7, surely you can stay longer,” he smiled, it seemed as though he was deathly clueless to the situation.
Her head whipped toward him, nose scrunching in irritation. “Steve probably wants me home,” she replied, forcing a smile so fake it burned. The venom in her voice slipped out.
Before anyone could argue, she was already halfway up the stairs, her footsteps echoing with anger.
Mike’s shoulders slumped, his eyes refusing to leave the stairs. “What the hell was that about?” he groaned, his expression going from confused to frustrated as El still slept on his shoulder.
Will sighed, rolling his eyes, while Max turned on Mike with a glare sharp enough to cut. “You might be the dumbest person alive.”
“If not dumb,” Dustin added, “then definitely oblivious.”
Mike scowled, taken aback by his friend’s words. What the hell did that even mean? Oblivious? Yeah, right. Like someone like Y/N Harrington would ever think about him like that.
Sure, they had been friends since forever, but Y/N was undoubtedly higher up on the social ladder than him. She was a cheerleader, breathtaking, the literal Queen of Hawkins High, and Steve Harrington’s little sister. Which meant it was written in the stars for her to be the ‘it girl’ of Hawkins.
Mike was almost the complete opposite. He was a Hellfire member, a social nightmare, and his body kept on stretching, leaving him with lanky limbs he didn't have full control of just yet. Safe to say, he wasn’t taking that King of Hawkins High title any time soon.
If someone like Y/N dated someone like Mike, the entire world would flip upside down. It would be unnatural. She was just too perfect for someone like him.
Mike’s gaze flicks down to El as he lets out a sigh. Y/N had acted weird ever since he and El got close.
And then it hit him.
It wasn’t Y/N being overly dramatic for no reason, as Lucas suggested; there was a reason. A burning obvious reason, in fact.
It had been a few hours since Y/N had left Mike’s house. She sat in her bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Her mind kept replaying the scene from earlier as she spaced out. The anger she had felt earlier was replaced with sadness as the scene kept replaying itself in her head. What the fuck was wrong with her?
She got up, walking over to her vanity to fix her hair rollers. It is the 80s after all, big hair is a must. When she finally looked at herself, she lingered, picking apart every flaw like they were answers.
Maybe her nose was too big? Or she had too many freckles? Maybe not enough? There had to be some reason.
She sighed and pushed herself up, turning back toward her bed. She’d barely started to sit when…
Knock Knock Knock
Y/N froze. Her eyes darted around the room before landing on her window.
Was that… Mike Wheeler?
She crossed the room in a hurry, yanking the window open. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she whisper-yelled, hands gripping the windowsill as she looked down at the scrawny boy below.
Mike rolled his eyes, “Visiting. Can I come in?” He nodded his head towards the inside of Y/N’s room like this was normal.
She stepped aside with a scoff, “How did you learn to do that?” Her nose scrunched.
“I’ve seen Steve do it enough times when he was seeing Nancy,” He shrugged, hauling himself inside, hitting the ground a little too hard on his landing, “He definitely makes it look easier than it is.”
“Right,” Y/N hesitantly nodded, “Speaking of, if Steve sees you up here, you are dead,” She smacked his arm, just hard enough to sting.
He flinches, a hand going over the spot she had hit, “Ow, Jesus. You might get me first.” His eyes started wandering around her room. It was very… Y/N. Eventually, his gaze fell back on her. “Hair rollers?” he raised an eyebrow, “My mom uses those.”
“Did you just come here to make fun of me?”
“Totally.” He responded with a smile before shaking his head, “No, of course not, I just…” his breath hitched, trying to find the right words to say, “I needed to talk to you.” He held his hands out, lightly placing them in Y/N’s arms.
Y/N tensed, subconsciously pulling away from Mike. He was just going to lie on El like that, and then touch Y/N so gently like it never happened? Absolutely not. “Since when did you talk about your feelings?” she hissed, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Out of all the reactions she could’ve had, that wasn’t one Mike was ready for. His eyes widened, hands still out towards Y/N. Her words cut deep.
Mike was well aware that he wasn’t good with feelings, but hearing Y/N throw it in his face made his chest cave in. It was more than an insult; it was a confirmation of everything Mike hated about himself.
“I know,” he mumbled after a few seconds, his eyes glued on the carpet like it might offer him mercy, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Y/N let out a sharp breath. “You don’t get to say sorry like that fixes it.” She folded her arms, nails digging into her sleeves. “You sit there, acting like everything’s normal. Like you didn’t spend the entire night glued to her while I pretended not to exist.”
Mike took a step back, his face curling into disgust, “Y/N, you don’t understand.” He defended, his head shaking as he tried to process her words.
“I don't understand?” Her voice wavered, and that only made her angrier. “Really? Because from my perspective, you’re the one who doesn’t understand.” A smile came across her face as she let out a silent laugh, “Damnit, I feel so stupid for even caring.”
“I didn’t realise you liked me, Y/N.” Mike’s voice cracked as emotion overtook him, “I didn’t think someone like you would ever look my way. That’s why I never said anything!”
She stared at Mike, her lips slightly parted. “Like me?” She whispered, her voice scared. Silence fell thick between the two.
“You’re beautiful. Everyone wants you,” He shook his head. His mouth opened as though that would help him find the correct words faster. “You make life look so easy. I figured I was just…” His eyebrows drew together, painting an expression of both guilt and sadness, “background noise.”
Y/N’s heart felt like it was about to beat out of her chest, “Mike,” she said, her voice was breathy, shaky, even unsure. She took a step towards Mike. It was barely noticeable, as though he would run away if she moved too quickly.
Mike’s breath hitched in response. He felt his hands start to shake as anxiety made his blood run cold. The little space between them wasn’t helping either. He finally looked at her, his heart beating so loud she could probably hear it.
Fuck, did she get more beautiful?
“It's always been you.” She smiles, her voice still shaky, but less unsure.
With that, Mike closed the space between them. His lips carefully find hers. It was gentle at first. Hesitant, almost. As though he was asking for permission to kiss her. Once she pressed back, his hand slowly raised, finding their home on the small of her back and gently pulling her closer.
They broke apart, a line of spit still connecting them. Mike looked at Y/N with his signature puppy dog eyes, his lips still puffy and wet.
That look was enough to make her give in, leaning into Mike once more.
This time, everything about it was needy. The way their tongues explored each other’s mouths.The way Mike’s hands covered every inch of her body. The way Y/N held onto his hair. It was disgustingly desperate.
They kissed each other like they were making up for lost time.
Their lips parted yet again, but this time Mike made quick work, placing small kisses down her neck. His hands held onto her hips tightly, fingers digging into her skin. He pushed Y/N back onto her bed with his hips as he still peppered small kisses on her neck.
Y/N whined, the pressure on all of her pulse points making her stomach do flips. Her legs opened up slightly, giving Mike just enough room to get in between them. “Mike,” she half-moaned, her fingers pulling tight on his curls.
He nipped at her neck for a moment longer, leaving small red marks all over it. They’d be gone soon, at least he prayed they would. Mike hushed her, his cold hand running under her shirt, lifting it, “Please,” He whispered.
God. How could she say no? Everything about him looked perfect right now. She just gave a small nod, as if to say ‘continue’.
That was all he needed. He used one hand to keep her shirt raised as he started to place small kisses over her chest and stomach, moving around her body both so gently and yet with such need. Mike pulled back for a second, admiring her body. Her breasts sat perfectly in a pink bra with bejeweled straps. It drove Mike up the wall.
Mike kissed his way down her stomach, his slender fingers playing with the top of her panties. They matched her bra perfectly; it was like she was expecting someone. He started placing soft kisses on her clit, just enough for her to get a jolt of pleasure. Y/N’s hips kept bucking. The sensation drove her up the wall.
He moved his fingers down, lightly tracing between her folds through the pretty pink fabric. His breath was hot as he spoke, “Is this all for me?” Mike teased, pushing at the wet spot on her panties.
Y/N whined once more, subconsciously pushing her hips closer to Mike, “Do you have to be a little shit all the time?” She asked, his fingers still moving so lightly over her.
“Y’know,” he gently moved the fabric over, exposing her pussy to the cold air, “I think I do.” With a quick motion, he plunged one finger into her. His hands were a lot bigger than hers, making it easy for him to reach spots she never could. Y/N covered her hand with her mouth to stop any noises from escaping, throwing her head back in reaction to the intrusion.
Mike can’t help but smirk as he watches Y/N try her best to stifle any noise coming out of her mouth. His finger kept a consistent motion, brushing against the same spots that made her squirm and jump over and over.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growled as he added another finger, “I’ll have to stretch you out.” His fingers started moving faster as Y/N’s quiet moans grew more frequent. Mike quickly attached his mouth to her clit. His tongue moved expertly around the bud. Y/N put a hand on the back of Mike’s head, pulling him closer to her.
“I can’t,” She just managed to push out, her voice shaky, “I’m going to cum.”
With that, Mike started eating her as though it were his last meal. Lewd noises filled the room as Y/N reached her climax. She let out pornographic moans as she tightened on Mike’s fingers.
He waited a second before exiting her. Mike stood up, cleaning the slick off with his mouth. “God, you even taste good.”
Her breathing hitched, cheeks burning. “Shit,” Y/N murmured, dropping her gaze and then lifting it again, like she couldn’t quite help herself. She brought herself to sit on her knees, staring up at Mike. Her hands quickly started lifting his shirt, revealing his slim body. Black hair circled his navel and traveled down beyond his jeans. Mike quickly removed the cheap polyester, throwing it across the room.
Y/N started nipping at his chest and hips, leaving a dark purple mark right on his V-line. Kissing it after to soothe the aching skin. Her hands quickly found the button of his jeans. She undid it quickly, reaching in to palm his aching erection through the soft fabric of his boxers.
With Mike’s help, she pulled down his jeans and boxers, letting his dick spring out. It was red and pulsing. Not to mention, absolutely dripping with precum. He was long and slender. Y/N stared, her eyes wide.
His smirk was cocky, like he knew exactly what she was thinking. Mike stepped closer, pushing her back onto the bed. “Don’t get shy.” He teased, placing a soft kiss on her lips. His hands roamed down to her hips, removing the useless piece of fabric that was her panties.
“Fuck you,” Y/N whispered as Mike grabbed his cock to line himself up with her entrance, rubbing the tip in his slick.
“You’re about to.” He whispered into Y/N’s ear, his breath hot and wet. He slowly pushed himself in, terrified of hurting her.
Y/N let out a lewd moan, covering her mouth quickly. Her face contorted as Mike slowly slipped into her, the new sensation almost overwhelming. Her eyes couldn’t help but look down, watching as every inch entered her. After a few seconds, he bottomed out.
Mike held himself just barely above Y/N, “You’re so tight,” he mumbled, bringing himself even closer. She could feel the heat radiating off his body. Slowly, Mike started moving. He just barely thrust at first, still getting used to the feeling of her pussy around him.
Y/N’s hands reached up to wrap around his back, the small movement making her ache. Everything felt so sensitive, so overwhelming, so intimate.
His pace quickly grew between soft grunts and mumbled swears. The sound of skin slapping grew louder with each thrust, as Mike grew more and more desperate. Mike looked at Y/N, his eyes filled with lust as he tried to process his situation. He was hooking up with Y/N Harrington. Half of the male population at Hawkins High would murder to be where Mike is right now.
But he was the only one who got to see her like this right now. She was so vulnerable in this moment. Y/N’s face was flushed, sweat dripping from her forehead as her nails dug into Mike’s back. For sure, breaking skin, but that didn’t matter right now.
Mike’s hips started to stutter as he reached his high, “Can I cum in you?” He asked, his voice desperate. Sweat stuck his black curls to his forehead.
Y/N nodded, her nails continuing to scratch at Mike’s back, “Please!” she let out in between moans, no longer caring to be quiet.
With that, he let go. He stuffed himself inside of Y/N, his cum coating her insides. His cock twitched as he emptied every last drop inside of her. Leaving her full of his DNA.
Mike pressed their foreheads together, both of them gasping for air as they came down from their highs. The room reeked of sex and sweat. He pulled out, letting his cum drip out of her.
“Does that explain my feelings?” ” he asked, eyes searching hers, smile soft and a little smug. His fingers lingered as he tucked her hair behind her ear.
She let out a breathy laugh, still trying to catch her own breath, “Yeah,” she said softly, her cheeks warm, “I think it does.”
𑣲 summary, mike was a creep, always watching you and admiring your every move. it was his wet fucking dream to have a chance, and just by chance he’s blessed with one
𑣲 contents, aged up! pervert! mike, gf! reader, y/n used, swearing, smut, some form of stalking, mike being a loser, handjob (m recieving), pinv, masterbation, titty grabbing, kinda porn with a plot?, stinky pull out method, after care, this is a long one…, somewhat inspired by ‘her’ and ‘she’ by tyler the creator
mike was a fucking loser, he knew that, hawkins highschool students knew that - after all they were the ones that had labeled him that.
though deep down he was more than a loser, a creep - a pervert if you were to go that far. it started with you and it would always be you.
he could see you through his bedroom window, after all you were neighbours. he could see when you did your homework - which if not in school last minute was mostly around eight pm on a sunday night. he saw when you brought friends round, always the same girl and she'd never stay more than three hours. you weren't a morning person, you showered at night unless it was a weekend which you may shower around lunchtime.
you had a stereo along with multiple cassette tapes stacked beside it. you listened to pop but your guilty pleasure was hip-hop, he'd watch you sing along with a smile. he would watch as you packed for volleyball practice, watch as you slammed the door after arguing with your parents before crying into your pretty pink pillows.
he didn't tell anybody he watched you, or the thoughts he had about you. not even his closest friends. he knew where to draw the line but it didn't stop his hand slowly unbuttoning his jeans as the sky grew darker.
there was a singular time in history class, mike had raised his hand and answered a question. "wrong, wheeler. can we please pay attention." though with a furrow to you brow, you flickered through a textbook before raising your own hand and correcting the teacher.
"uhm, sir, mike is right. it says so on page twelve."
you'd said his name, you'd acknowledged him. it wasn't the first time, sometimes you had to knock at the front door and ask if you could borrow some sugar - you baked often, mostly cookies as they were least likely to go wrong and a lot of the time you ran out of ingredients, though his mom was more than willing to share - and if he was in eyeline of the door you'd send him a soft smile.
you were a sweet girl after all, mike would know. he watched, waiting for you to slip up on the act though you never did. you weren't necessarily heights above mike on the social scale. he was severely lacking, you where floating around - litterally.
losers, nerds, band kids, theatre kids, cheer girls, jocks, you'd wave to at least ten people as you walked through the halls. all from different places on the pyramid that had formed.
one day youd be sat invested in the gossip some cheer girls were spilling to you over hushed whispers and too loud giggles. other days you'd drag dustin away and he'd help you with something in the school labs.
everytime it happened mike seethed with jealousy. why'd it have to be dustin? he was equally as good, well not really, dustin was really fucking good at everything science - but still, he could help you.
even lucas had talked to you a select few times, about the upcoming prep rallies or his basketball game. you'd smile with soft encouragement, having no interest in basketball at all though he'd still tell you about his last game.
when mike tried to talk to you it just didn't happen. you'd pass in the halls and his jaw would stutter, no words or sounds coming out, just his eyes following as you grazed his presence.
it was even worse when he'd see you, surrounded by his friends and after he'd been thinking about you all night, like right now.
he was sat behind the counter with dustin and lucas, steve and robin in the back of the squawk as they had a delivery of new vinyls arrive. you had entered, the small bell ringing above you as you and the same girl you hung out with often giggled together
she nudged you, "you go ask, i'm looking for a gift for..." she trailed, something that mike couldn't pick up. he watched you hesitate before turning to the desk, a small smile settling on your face as you saw the three boys playing around together - mike not so much as he was too struck by your presence to continue prodding lucas with his finger.
"i didn't know you guys worked here! how'd you get a job? i've been trying so hard and nowhere is even getting back to me." you ranted quickly, setting down a small pink purse on the desk.
mike swallowed, eyes on you - or eyes on your boobs which sat so perfectly under the sweater you were wearing. his mind flashed to everything he was thinking of last night whilst flickering through the magazines he had slipped out of the eighteen plus section of the library. first stealing, then thinking of you whilst using the material - how out of character for nerdy mike wheeler.
he had imagined the soft giggles you'd let out once he could kiss all over your face, neck and thighs. the gasp of satisfaction as he pleased you, bending to your will and doing whatever you wanted him to do. he was ashamed to admit it, how fast he'd succumb to what you needed. he imagined himself as a proper man, though when it came down to you he really was just a teenage boy.
"hey y/n! and we don't work here, steve and robin do." dustin smiled at you, pausing his poking at lucas.
you let out a soft hum of realisation, glossy lips forming an 'o' shape that mike had imagined too many times. "wait, like steve harrington? the hair?" you asked in disbelief, eyes flickering between the trio.
they all nodded. "well, i was wondering if they sell cassette tapes here - or is it only vinyls. if you don't know its fine ill wait for either steve or robin to get back but i don't know maybe you do know—!"
"we do— they do." mike nodded, cutting off your nervous ramble that you didn't know the cause of. "i- i can take you to the isle, if you want me to."
you gave him a soft nod and an even kinder smile, watching as the lanky wheeler boy stood and began leading the way around the radio station. "how are you?" you asked, initating small talk.
though mike could barely cope, he could already feel his jeans tightening with you even being next to him. his mind flashed, your head digging back into your pretty pink pillow, nails scratching down his shoulders. "Im, uh, im fine... you?"
you nodded, telling him you were doing okay before deciding he probably didn't want to talk. he stopped in front of the shelves, allowing your gaze to roam the spines of the plastic casing. your finger stroked against each case, searching for something that interested you.
mike wheeler could explode. you, bent in front of him as you peered at the bottom shelf. he had to remind himself this wasn't one of his perverted fantasies. you aren't needy for him, and if you were he couldn't solve his own issue because lucas and dustin were a few feet away.
your posture straightened and you let out a small huff, turning back to him where he was zoned ans and stiff in place. "mike? wanna pick something out for me?" you asked, shifting on your feet as it looked like he awoke.
"uh, yeah sure, yeah..." he nodded, taking a few steps towards the shelving unit and began racking through. you were close, like shoulders touching close. god, what a fucking loser, he could go to the bathroom right now and have a jolly time all because you were talking to him.
his hands shook, taking ahold of the first artist he recognised and handing it to you. something by the clash, he didn't take a full look because he needed to get you out of here or himself before he did something.
"i'llgogetrobinorstevetoringyouup." he stumbled on his words, walking away awfully straight-legged like a figurine to the stock room.
he thought about it that night, hand moving up and down painfully slow underneath the sheets and his pyjama pants. shoulders touching, talking to him, how soft and kind and innocent your voice was, looking up at him through those lashes, how you bent down to look at music tapes having no fucking clue that he jerked off to you at night.
sat at his desk, that was purposefully sat under the window, he did his homework the following morning. guilt in his heart though his brain preparing fantasies for the later hours. he was home alone, holly out with her friends, nancy running around with jonathan and parents going to visit his grandma.
he'd refused to come, pretending to be asleep for much longer than he actually was. "that school just pile him with homework." his mom had said as she creaked the door open to check if he had woken up yet.
though he was waiting, using his homework as a distraction from the fact you were yet to be in your room. that was until you were, opening the door and hand moving to flick the light switch on - only for it to remain off.
he watched confusion lace your features, hand repeatedly flickering the light switch just for no change to be made - then you left the bedroom. guilt filled his heart once more. he was a creep, but he just couldn't help himself.
though his writing jogged as a loud knock on the door strung throughout the empty house, making him cautious. though he clambered down the stairs and opened the door without a second thought.
every second thought filled his head as you stood on the opposite side. hair perfectly styled, glasses resting on your nose bridge, and a simple sweater and bootcut jeans on your body.
he wished he had styled his hair and wiped the crust from his eyes, and maybe even switched shirts before seeing you.
"oh hey mike! is your dad home?" you ask softly, tilting your head with a polite smile he'd seen you sport manh times when talking to his mom.
he shook his head, eyes on you. "n-no, but i might be able to help?" he offered, leaning against the doorframe in all attempts to look cooler than he really was.
with a hum you glanced back to your house before back to mike, looking up at him. "yeah... you know how to switch a lightbulb by chance?"
he didn't, he totally fucking didn't. yet here he was, sock covered feet standing on your fluffy stool to get him at the right height that you didn't manage to reach. his hand twisted the bulb, swapping it with the fresh one in your palm.
and again, mike wheeler could barely hold it in. he was in your bedroom that had a pink bomb explode inside it. the bedroom he'd see in his dreams. you were sat on the edge of your bed to watch him, the bed he'd imagined laying you on more times than he wanted to admit.
even the stool he was stood on, it belonged at your vanity, the vanity he'd imagine bending you onto.
god, he there was something really wrong with him. he stepped down from the stool, making his way over to the light-switch and flicking it on - the bright light filling the room.
a bright smile danced in your face, eyes brightening. "thank you mike! you're a saviour!" you giggled, skipping over to him and giving him a hug - which wasn't awkward on your part, but for him he was containing every part of his body. "i should pay you! how much do you want? i'm sure my dad gave me some pocket money—!" you backed away, eyes darting around your room in search for your purse with your feet following.
though he grabbed for your arm, halting your steps and pulling you back to prevent you from going further. mike didn't know what had come over him for him to pull such a bold move.
you chest bumped into his as he pulled you back in, causing you to stumble a bit. a small laugh left your lips, gaze moving to mike. "you good?"
"yeah... yeah." he nodded, gulping, his eyes now fighting to remain on your face and not the pink bra strap that had slipped from under your vest shirt. "you don't have to pay me."
"but i wanna thank you for helping me." you softly sighed, tilting your head and drawing your eyebrows together.
she's his everything, his every thought. the girl in front of him, wanting to pay him for such a simple fix. the girl who he thought of while rubbing one out, thinking of her lips wrapped around him, or him seven inches deep.
and he'd take advantage of his opportunity, maybe even boast about it to dustin and lucas. he got laid before they did, and who did he get laid by? the most perfect girl in the whole entire world.
"your lips... they look really soft." he murmured, hand shaking as it hesitantly rose in the air. his thumb grazing the soft pink plush of your bottom lip, slightly sticky to the lipgloss you had applied that morning. it pulled his thumb in, sticking the two of you together for a brief moment before he pulled away.
you blinked slowly, brain processing the moment that seemed to go by in slow motion. "are... are you implying that you want to kiss me, mike wheeler?" you asked, a playful and teasing grin playing on your face.
a slow nod, then a few faster nods came from the boy, earning a giggle from you before your hand crept to the back of his neck. your lips thinned, lipgloss spreading further before you leaned in, spreading it to his lips like a love sick disease.
he almost moaned as your lips attached to his, a pathetic fucking whimper at that. though he did take advantage of it, hands latching to your waist. head turning to prevent bumping noses, slipping his tongue in your mouth as you gasped at the coolness of his palms.
you stumbled back, he caught you, foreheads resting against each others as you caught your breath. he couldn't hide the tent in his jeans, he wouldn't even try to.
in fact he pulled you closer, hoping you felt it as it pressed against your thigh. another soft gasp left your gloss-smudged lips at that, gaze flickering down.
he used your distraction, head lowering down to capture your neck in licks and bites, drawing a moan out of you. finally, what he'd been searching for. he banked the sound, wanting to hear more of it. smirking against your neck, his fingers played along the hem of the striped vest top you wore.
"mike..." you hummed, head tilting back to give him a broader canvas to make art on.
"y/n..." he returned, breathy against your skin like a prayer for water in the desert. desperate, wanted, needed, yearned for.
in a share of breaths, gasps, and feelings of lust, both of your tshirts were pulled from your torsos and abandoned on the floor. he walked you back, eyes on yours as the back of your knees hit the bed frame.
fuck, every thing he'd thought of. it felt like he was a play double, having watched the lead every night performing for a crowd, and finally after a slip up, it was his turn.
he was moving too fast.
"are- are you okay... with this?" he asked, eyes flickering over your expression. his bold and confident demeanour shattering back to the loser he was.
lips slightly parted, gloss smeared onto your chin, gaze on him and only him. your hands softly came to his, interlocking your fingers. "yeah, yeah i am." you nodded, "are you?"
he sealed the deal with another passionate kiss, hands leaving yours to cup your face with his hands. he leaned forward, so far that he practically fell on top of you, laying you down on the pink sheets smoothly.
mike could barely keep it in his fucking pants, he didn't want to do all that foreplay shit they did in the movies. he wasn't here to get sucked off or finger you, he just needed you.
a singular hand trailed off your face, gracing the soft lace of your bra. his nail traced the band, feeling the wire that held it together.
"mike, you can take it off." you propose ever so gently, lashes fluttering. he imagined it the way it would sound late at night, behind the static of old tapes. though it was so much better than any tape from the 18+ section in family video.
with a soft gulp, he did what he was told. his cold hand trailing to your back - which you arched off the bed to give him space to detach the small clips, which also drew a quiet whimper from him as your stomach pressed into his - blindly feeling his way for the plastic bumps.
he felt as it unclasped, the straps loosening almost instantly, sliding down from your shoulders. mike kept his eyes on yours before sliding them down to your now bare chest. perky, young, definitely a handful.
it was as though you read his mind, your hand joining his before bringing it against the warmth of your skin. the both of you shared a whine, heads lulling back in shared lust.
"i... i really wanna... really wanna..." mike trailed off, losing all form of stable thinking before leaning down to your chest, placing soft kisses wherever he could - just like he promised himself.
a teasing smile graced your face, hand sliding down his chest and stomach before underneath his black denim jeans. "wanna what?" you asked softly, eyes closing as he praised you with kisses, hand slipping slower.
"ah! ah..." he groaned, jerking forward into your hand. "mmm- fuck!" his head went in the crook of your neck, not allowing you to see the heat flushing though him.
he wasn't even a virgin and he was reacting like this. you mumbled something about him packing, though he had the world tuned out, a ring in his ears as your hand was wrapped around him and working. up, down... up, down... tip, base.
"fuck you, make love... i don't know, anything." he groaned, jaw left slacking as his hips jerked into your hand again.
your hand slipped away from him, earning a groan of loneliness. he pulled away from the crook of your neck, staring right at you. those puppy dog eyes nancy had always made fun of, paired with a brew of tears.
together your hands worked to slide his jeans and boxers off - making a mess of kicking them off and onto the floor himself. then he focused on you, hands grazing the waistband of the bootcut jeans that had been teasing him ever since you knocked at his door. hugging around you perfectly, something he wanted, no needed, to do.
he slid them off of your legs, faced with of course the pretty pink lacy panties that had matched your bra. he never thought he'd care for a matching set, or panties in general - in fact he had avoided the isles if underwear in ever store he entered - but it was you, so of course it matter and of course it turned him on.
more so the small damp circle sitting on them, between your slightly shaky thighs. all for him, all because of him. his gaze was stuck on it, all before your hands took his jaw and neck and pulled him back into a dance of tongues.
cherry, thats the flavour of the lipgloss you were wearing - only took him a few tongue-down-throat exchanges to pin it down.
"mike," you whisper, breaking away from. you were panting, light breaths leaving your parted lips to fan his. he leaned in, chasing your lips, though it only made his dick graze your clothed centre which made you squirm. "mike, i want you to fuck me, okay?"
like a soldier set on mission, thats exactly what he did. sliding your panties down, admiring the glisten of your folds. he exhaled, preparing himself for what he knew would be the closest he could ever get to heaven - especially after everything he has done, over you. its always you.
he pushed in, watching himself disappear, feeling you embrace him. his head rolled back, it felt like it was going on slow motion, deeper and deeper.
your whimpers and cries were foggy, nails deep in his biceps before grabbing his shoulders, bracing yourself. head digging back into that fucking pink pillow. "mike! fuck! slow... slow down!" you gasped, nails digging deeper into his skin leaving crescents imprinted amongst constellations of freckles.
mike came back to his senses, halting in you. he was way more than halfway in, pushing against the spongy walls he had dreamed of. he watched, watched as your eyes fluttered and rolled back, thighs shaking and threatening to close. "you 'kay?" he asked, patient compared to what he was thinking of.
after a few deep exhales from you, you nodded, blindingly finding one of his hands that was braced at your hips. "yes... 'm okay."
and he started, thrusting his hips and rocking the bed. hoisting your legs around his torso, one even finding its way on to his shoulder. he quickly found out the further your legs were the deeper he could get - the better he could make you feel.
thats all he wanted after all, maybe for the fact if he made you feel good you'd be more likely to come back. but right now he just wanted to consume you, whole, keep you for himself.
his hips smacked into yours, loud and wild moans drawing from yours lips, nails scratching down his back like rainfall. his own grunts and whimpers left his mouth, so indulged in the way you seemed to suck him up, the way your boobs moved with him.
as he leant forward to kiss on your lips that were too busy whining and gasping to reciprocate, also causing your back to arch as he hit a while different angle, his eyes watched your bed frame. moving with the rhythm of your bodies, creaking like a melody, denting the wall.
a part of him enjoyed it, your time together, permanent. in your room to, god the thought of it. your parents walking in to check on you, making sure your doing your homework, the dent he made fucking you deep staring back at them.
"mikeeee!" you drew out, gasping, hand clutching at his curls which were almost damp from sweat. "keep going, 'm so close! you feel it?"
he could, he fucking could. the heartbeat against him, clenching and pulling him in further. walls gushy and slick. "me too y/n... fuck."
your hand squeezed his tighter, head burrying into his neck this time. "together?" you asked, pressing weak kisses to the base of his neck.
mike nodded, giving you a few more sloppy thrusts before ultimately releasing - along with sloppily pulling out of you. you followed him, body shaking as the pleasure ran over you, final gasps sounding from you before you practically fell limp.
the boy followed, lowering down onto you slow and gentle before embracing you into a hug. "you're fucking amazing." he panted, chest rising and falling in sync with yours.
hands still interlocked, you let out a soft laugh, squeezing his palm. "says you, didn't know mike wheeler was a freak."
the pair of you laid like the for a while before tou both helped each other to the bathroom, hand towels wet with warmish water and cleaning each others up - not with a few more stolen kisses. he guided you back to your bed, sliding into his clothes again before thanking you.
"thank you? why are you thanking me?" you ask with a lazy smile, rolling onto your side to look up at him, extending an arm out and up.
his fingers took yours, "just for... giving me a chance." he nodded, leaving you with a singular kiss to your knuckles.
mike ran his hands through his hair, attempting to get the evidence away as he walked back into his front door, his mom packing away groceries in the kitchen.
"mike! where have you been? why didn't you leave a note?" she fussed, scolding him as she went back and forth between the cabinet and grocery bags.
"just... just on a walk." he hummed, sauntering up stairs, you on his mind.
| you and mike are caught in the girls bathroom by max, while still trying to maintain a secret relationship. harrington!reader, fluff, tension, foul language, kissing/making out.
“am i even allowed in here?” mike said as you pulled him into the girls bathroom quickly, the empty school halls now slowly filling up as the next period began. usually, mike wouldn’t dream of missing an important subject like physics, but for you he could make an exception.
“nope. definitely not. just be quiet, ok?” you whispered, approaching a stall and pulling him into it before quickly shutting the door behind you and locking it. you turned around to face him, his lips still swollen and pink from your previous makeout session in the halls, his hair disheveled and brown eyes glossy.
“hey.” he said playfully, pulling you by the waist into him as you placed your hand over his mouth, shushing him quickly.
“shh, wheeler! i know some girls who would absolutely love the chance to rat me out for having you in here. be quiet, ok?” you said, removing your hand from his mouth as he rolled his eyes, scoffing.
“so your telling me you pulled your boyfriend into a quiet cramped bathroom stall to scold him? not to fuck, or anything?” he whispered, watching as you furrowed your brows, tilting your head at him.
“how on earth do you think that would be possible here? a, it’s a bathroom with other people in it, b— there’s a fucking toilet taking up half the space in here, mike.” you said, almost laughing as he huffed.
“well, im hoping you’ll still at least let me kiss you, harrington.” he said, a small smile creeping onto your face as you shrugged.
“i don’t know. depends if you can stay quiet, wheeler.” you hummed, your hand cupping his cheek as he tilted his head into you, your lips meeting quickly.
it started slow. soft, sweet, like he was trying to savour the moment rather than ravage you whole. but knowing mike, he’s never good at keeping his cool when it comes to you. his lips pressed deeper against yours, your back now hitting the wall behind you.
his tongue brushed your bottom lip slowly, before entering your mouth. you whined into the kiss, his lips quickly breaking away from yours as your eyes met his.
“so now we’re making noise, are we?” he teased, giving you no time to answer before his lips were on yours again. his hands were on your waist, one of them now sliding underneath the knitted material of the sweater you wore. your hands were in his hair, deepening the kiss and further messing up his dark curls.
“so, so pretty.” he mumbled against your lips, your cheeks reddening at his words and how genuine they sounded, one of your hands now sliding down his chest.
“y/n? you in here?” a voice suddenly called out. not just any voice though, the voice of max mayfield. max was mike’s friend above anything else, but the two of you had bonded and frequently chatted in your english classes. there was one problem however. max had no idea that you and mike were seeing each other. no one did.
what everyone knew was that mike had become somewhat civil with you, occasionally joking with you in shared classes— but what they didn’t know was that mike was in your room almost every night fucking you into oblivion.
your hand shot over mike’s mouth, preventing him from making any noise as his eyes widened as he recognised the voice. you gave him a look, shaking your head slowly and putting a finger to your lips as you turned your head in the direction of the door.
“yeah? what’s up!” you said, your voice cracking slightly as you cleared your throat.
“well— mr. martin is looking for you. he’s running around the school like a mad man. i just thought i should tell you so you could come back before he tells the office your missing.” max said, your hand instantly slapping your head as you bit your lip.
“uhm— yeah. ok, sure. thanks, max. i’ll be out in a second.” you said, your voice once again coming out uncertain and shaky as you winced, already sensing that the red-head was going to say something.
“listen, if you have some douche bag football player in there with you i could care less, harrington. just come out so you don’t get me in trouble either for trying to find you.” she said, and that’s when you knew the two of you were well and truly fucked.
there was no way to work around this. your secret was gonna have to be shared. you looked at mike, his brown eyes looking just as helpless as he shrugged, telling you he had whatsoever no way, much like yourself, to go about doing this.
it was too late now. if it had to be anyone, you were at least glad it was max.
you unlocked the door, slowly stepping out with mike following behind you like a lost puppy, both of your heads ducked in shame. almost immediately, max let out an amused gasp.
“oh my god? look who we have here!” max said, nudging mike’s shoulder as he gave her a look, shaking his head at her.
“you can’t tell anyone, you got that? this is meant to be a secret.” mike said, looking in your direction as you nodded, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.
“seriously, max. you promise?” you said, watching as she nodded frantically, eyes shut as she did so.
“i swear. your secrets safe with me.” she said, looking between the two of you before eventually settling her gaze on mike.
“so a harrington, then? way to go, mike.” max said, nudging him again as he scoffed, nudging her back as you smiled awkwardly at mike, his face mirroring your expression.
the three of you walked out of the bathroom, you and max heading to english and mike to physics a separate way, ruffling your hair and offering you a wink as he headed down the hall away from you.
“he hurts you, i’ll beat his ass.” max said, offering you a wink as you laughed in response, slinging your bag over your other shoulder.
Summary: After a few too many drinks, secrets start to mean less and your skin starts to hum Eddie’s name, whether you feel it or not. He answers the call.
Word Count: 6.3k
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, PiV unprotected semi-public sex, secret friends with benefits, cream pie, cum eating, little bit of oral (fem rec), dirty talk, drunk!Eddie POV, jealousy, possessiveness, panty stealing, begging, testosterone-off, small physical altercation (not R), desperation station, PDA, switch!Eddie, mild public embarrassment, dubcon (alcohol consumption; one-sided drunk sex), established relationship, Eddie is down horrendously, drunk!horny!Eddie abuses endearments, R wears a skirt (for easy access)
Song Rec: Drunk in Love by Beyoncé
A/N: Happy (almost) Valentine’s Day <3 Also, SURFBOAR— SURFBOAR—
Masterlist
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Eddie feels good.
Actually, he feels better than good—
He feels amazing.
The alcohol in his bloodstream is rushing, warming him from the inside out, leaving him flushed in the face.
The smoky bar is playing old Judas Priest tracks.
He’s drunk enough to not care how badly he’s losing the bet—the one he made thinking Steve would easily beat Robin at a billiards game. How was he supposed to know she was some kind of a whiz at Pool?
He’s got his girl to his right and the two bickering boneheads in front of him.
A couple of beers, some smooth vodka, great music, and friendly competition.
What’s not to love?
Although, you do keep inching away from him every time he gets close. He’s not loving that new development.
Somewhere in the back of his mind—before the three pints and the two shots—he recalls your hushed voice in his ear, outside the bar. It was low and sultry. Scratchy and strained, but not like how it gets after a long day of talking. No—
It was the type of strain that happens when you’ve spent too many hours screaming his name. When too many breaths have torn from your chest, ragged and pressed out by the strength of his hips.
That type of strain is his favorite…. But you had said something then—
You leaned close. The music from the bar was leaking out into the muggy, open air of the parking lot. There was noise from the road nearby. Fast cars, rubber peeling off of wet asphalt—
Wet asphalt emanating heat and earthy scents—
And there was you. He could smell you, too. His favorite scent. The perfume you always leave traces of, like love notes he finds well after you’re gone. Proof of your existence in his bed, near his clothes, on him.
You leaned close. Yes, because of the noise—the music, the cars.
And your mouth brushed the shell of his ear and he shuddered. You laughed. Sweet and teasing. You laughed.
He shuddered again, or maybe he was just vibrating with excitement—he could never tell around you. Then he felt what you were saying before you even said it. Your kiss-bitten lips curved so delicately around every syllable.
You called his name.
His favorite shape your mouth makes…
Well, that, and the stretch of—
No. No, you said something. His name. That’s what you said.
That and something else.
What was it?
He closes his eyes, trying to relive the moment— Your mouth against his ear, your hot breath on his skin, his name on your lips…
Fuck, he can’t remember. And damn it, you won’t let him touch you.
You just took yet another shuffle-step to the right. He didn’t even realize he was leaning into you until you did that
Come to think of it, what you said before probably had to do with why you’re not letting him touch you now.
Usually you love it. You welcome his zealous exploration. He knows that, you tell him through the prettiest sighs—
And what you said—well, it felt important at the time. You dropped his hand to say it, so it must’ve been.
But as the golden glow of the hanging light fixture shines down on you, your hair glinting with every movement, his patchy memory no longer seems all that significant.
The sound of dense resin knocking together draws his attention to the table, the green surface missing one less solid colored ball.
“Yes!” Robin calls out, pumping her fist victoriously.
“Shit!” Steve curses at the same time, stamping the butt of his wooden cue on the floor.
“Oof, rough go, Steve.” You smirk, pretty as a picture.
Eddie wishes you’d look at him like that.
Subtly, he brushes his arm against yours—the one that’s holding your beer. His eyes practically roll at the heat rippling across your soft skin.
But you move away at the first contact. That’s really starting to get on his nerves. Because what, is he radioactive or something? What’s so bad about him wanting to hold you?
You lean forward. “Maybe if you—”
“No speak from the opposition!” Steve shouts stiltedly, sending an accusatory finger your way. His eyes flit from you to the table as he strategizes his next shot. “I will not let your womanly wiles corrupt me—”
“Mm, I would,” Eddie purrs lowly, floating into your orbit. His leisurely efforts are abruptly halted, though, when you jab a knuckle into his side.
Steve paces, wearing a chasm into the chipped, creaky floorboards of the old dive bar. “If you had bet on me like you should’ve, then maybe I’d hear you out. But since you’ve left me scorned, I’d like to keep my dignity intact, thank you.”
“For now,” Robin simpers, sending you a side-long glance. “Or wait, do we think he had any to begin with?”
“Mmm, jury’s still out—” you shrug, lips curled like you’re trying not to laugh at the frazzled man’s brewing tantrum.
Eddie giggles, “Dignity…Steve.” The words feel heavy on his tongue, like he’s dragging each syllable out a second too long.
Steve grumbles—something about trading. Or maybe ‘trait-or’? Eddie doesn’t know, he’s too busy weathering the turn of the earth now that you’re looking at him again. It’s been forever since he’s held your attention, and he was nearly at the point of begging.
It’s not just your eyes on him, though. You’re smiling, too. It’s that knowing smirk he loves. The kind that makes his knees weak and his pants feel tight.
But then your lips twitch, smile faltering as you peer down at his finger hooked in the waistline of your skirt. And suddenly, you turn to him, shifting your hip out of reach. He opens his mouth, a complaint on the tip of his tongue when you force a half-drank bottle of beer into his outstretched hand with a terse, “Hold this.”
Straightening up, he gathers himself, prepared to shoulder any task for you—no matter how trivial. His responding, “Okay, baby,” is drowned out by Steve’s loud cheer after finally pocketing a ball.
You turn back to Robin and Steve, leaving Eddie chasing after your gaze. “I’ll get the next round.” And just like that, you’re gone.
He jogs after you, the floor feeling uneven as he stumbles through groups of people. You’re leaning against the bar, waiting for the drinks when he arrives, looming over you with heaving breaths.
“Oh, baby, y’look so pretty tonight,” he grunts, wrapping an arm around your waist, trailing his lips up your neck.
You whip around, hand shoving against his chest until he stumbles back a few paces. His eyes widen, stinging from the pain of rejection, and he feels minuscule under your cold glare.
When you swallow, glancing somewhere behind him, he has to stop himself from moving into your eyeline. Because damn it, if you’d just look at him longer than a second—
“You need to stop,” you hiss.
His head jerks back, the burn of nausea twisting low in his gut. “Wha—”
“You said you’d be good, Eddie.”
He is being good! He’s being so good! All he’s done tonight is stare at you and touch you—you love when he does that!
He opens his mouth to argue, but you cut in before he gets the chance to start.
“You said you’d behave! So you better start now, or we’ll have to leave,” you grit out, stepping back from him once more.
Following your movement, his overheating body crowds you against the bar. “No, please, don’t make us leave, baby,” he hurries, grabbing at your hips. “‘M havin’ so much fun, don’t wanna go—”
Your shoulders drop, you lean into him, and he almost closes his eyes, certain your lips will find his.
“Okay, then be-have,” you admonish, then turn to collect the drinks left behind by the busy bartender.
Eddie decides he’d much rather have gotten a kiss than a warning.
Sliding out of his embrace, you march back to your party, a grumbled, “Just friends, Eddie. You promised they wouldn’t know—” fading the further you flee.
And he feels like he just stepped into the Twilight Zone because what the hell? Why would he say that? That doesn’t sound like him at all—
“Thank God, gimme that,” Steve swipes a bottle from your arms, chugging it. He jabs a finger in Robin’s direction. “This woman wants me dead.”
She snorts, then looks at you with an unimpressed glint in her eyes.
“Missed another shot?” you ask, brow quirked.
“Multiple,” Robin confirms.
“It is just not your night, is it, Steve?”
Before the beleaguered man can answer, Robin cuts in, elbowing him. “It’s never his night. That’s basically his whole thing. He’s, like, the personification of a Monday.”
Steve snaps, “Okay, that’s enough outta you. Just take the damn shot.”
A loud clack, then a muffled thump into leather, and Robin laughs manically.
Eddie watches you lean over the table, passing the girl her drink. Inch by inch, your skirt rises the more you reach, and his head drops to the side, weighed down by curiosity.
He thinks of the black panties you shimmied on before coming here. He watched you then, just like he watches you now. Watched the way you wiggled the flimsy fabric over your ass, how the material covered your freshly fucked cunt so delicately.
The same black fabric peeks out from beneath the hem of your skirt, only now, there’s a wet splotch between your folds, and he knows exactly what soaked through.
You straighten up—too soon for his liking—but Eddie’s still staring. Still leering at that cursed skirt. It’s never done him any good—always hiding you away. Then again, maybe it’s done him a world of good. It’s been the catalyst to many a sweaty tryst, that’s for sure. But right now, it’s useless fabric obstructing his favorite view.
In the back of his mind, he vaguely registers the bickering going on around him, the music blaring. But his focus is divided between the sight of your upper thighs and the stirring in his pants.
He reaches down to adjust himself, then quickly remembers the beer in his hand. The condensation beading down the glass has seeped into his skin, pruning his fingers. He doesn’t remember why he’s even holding the thing to begin with.
Setting the bottle on a nearby table, he shuffles closer to you. You’re talking to Steve, and he’s not quite sure what you’re saying, but he hears you choke on your words the moment he presses against you. There’s a hiss of breath that sounds like his name, but his mind goes blank as tingling pleasure prickles up his spine, almost a relief of pressure. Or the temptation of relief.
The feeling is small, but it’s intoxicating. Even more than the alcohol in his bloodstream. Because now he’s drunk on you. On what could be if he just bent you over and—
You cough, clearing your throat as you take a step forward—right up to the Pool table. Eddie grunts, grabbing your hips and dragging you back against him, this time with a stronger, steadying grip.
“No, that doesn’t count as a mulligan— Hey! Ed, what the hell are you doing?”
Steve’s question falls on deaf ears, and your elbow digging into his ribs does nothing to deter his mission. Because the heat is building. In his flushed cheeks, in his muscles. Even lower. Incendiary friction sparks something dizzying and all-consuming.
“Dude, at least let her breathe. No need to hover—”
He’s laughing, but Eddie doesn’t think it’s funny. Not when you slip from his hold, yet again, now an arms-length away. Too far.
Your palms are planted on the glossy, oak edge of the table as you huff out something that sounds like it would’ve been a chuckle if it hadn’t collapsed halfway up your throat. “Think he just gets weirdly clingy when he’s drunk. Don’t know why I’m the victim, though—”
There’s a sharpness to your tone. It’s dulled by his inebriated ears. Undeterred, he closes in on you. “You’re so pretty, baby.”
The words slip out easily. Your shocked reaction only makes Steve laugh harder.
“Jesus Christ, you’re really three sheets to the wind, dude—”
Eddie ignores him, but then watches as he turns to you.
“Does he think you’re someone else?”
The question makes Eddie’s chest rumble. As if you could be anyone else. As if he could want anyone else this badly—
Wrapping his arms around your rigid frame, he can feel your ribs expand on the breath you draw in. Before a response tumbles past your lips, he squeezes you. Quick and firm. It’s the only warning he can manage without ripping fabric or leaving teeth marks on your delicate skin.
Because he knows what you’d say. He’s starting to catch onto the lies. And he’s not in the mood to play pretend anymore.
“How many has he had?”
Robin’s voice sounds distant as Eddie finds himself beside you again—not far, this time, but shucked off all the same—monitored under your eagle eyed gaze. When she calls your name, stealing your attention for…something about going home or taking a home, he can’t find it in him to care. Not about Robin’s itch for theft or Steve’s quiet, regarding stare.
He can smell your perfume. It calls to him, whispers of heat and closeness. Of the subtle change in the chemical makeup when you begin to warm beneath him, when his sweat mixes with yours. The evil scent pulls him in until his nose is running along your neck. You don’t jump nearly as much as you have been. He’s breaking you down. All he has to do is persist.
You reach across your body, finding his chest and he almost giggles at the half-hearted shove you give. Like it’s just for show. Like you don’t really want him gone. Then your fingers curl around the flimsy material of his shirt and he’s certain you don’t want him gone. How could you push him away if you’ve got a hold on him?
With a groan, he presses his straining length against the underside of your other wrist, your palm still planted firmly on the edge of the table. It’s a slow, focused grind; his knees nearly buckle. Pushing harder as his own hands slide down your arm, he keeps you in place.
“Fuck, Eddie, st—”
“Holy shit, he’s like a cat in heat,” Steve mutters, cutting you off in what Eddie deems a particularly grating tone. It does nothing to aid the coiling need he’s trying to sate.
Tension bleeds from your muscles in a slow-burning drip as your form sways just the slightest bit in his direction. He can feel you fighting the urge to melt into him. He’s waiting. Patiently. As patiently as he can without compromising his own desires.
Then, your chin tips and you whisper a lackluster, “Eds, seriously, not here—” over your shoulder.
“Okay, what the fuck, man.”
A large hand lands on his bicep, pulling him away from you. His heartrate spikes.
A calamitous anger rages inside, catching like a wildfire through his veins. It feels like integrity but tastes like possession.
Whipping around, he smacks the arm away, blindly knocking the culprit back.
“Dude! Actually get the fuck off her—”
“Steve, it’s fine!”
Your sharp tone slices through the fog in his mind; it settles the devastation inside, canning it for another time. He stares at your back as you move between him and a very angry-looking Steve. Chest all puffed out, the ex-jock is the picture of chivalrous defense, and he can’t help but grin.
If the good knight only knew the things you’ve let Eddie do to you…
“Yeah, Steve,” he drawls, his heavy-lidded gaze sliding from the incensed man to you, the one-woman garrison emboldened by altruism and bolstered by sweetness. He inches closer; a shadow encroaching on the light, a predator going in for the kill. “She said it’s fine.”
His palms hover over your skin, consuming and reveling in the heat. Up your arms, around your shoulders, and back, he maps out your body, admiring the winding curves he’s traversed many times before. The simmering rage of the man in front of you only encourages his quiet appreciation.
Slowly, delicately, he leaves a chaste kiss where your neck meets your shoulder.
You tremble, blinking like you mean to steel yourself.
And his grin widens. “See? She likes it—”
Steve snaps into action, but Robin is quicker, throwing her arm out in front of him. At the same time, you grab Eddie’s wrist, yanking him after you.
“That’s it, I’m taking you home.”
He lets you drag him away, tossing a smirk over his shoulder. Steve tries to ask if you’re sure and you only let out a clipped, “See you guys later,” in response.
Eddie can’t help but congratulate himself on yet another successful victory. You’re his. You’re choosing him, again. A room full of people and you’re taking him home.
He somehow feels both stone-cold sober and wasted beyond belief, all from your fingers digging into his pulse. And the alcohol. There’s that, too.
Weaving through meandering patrons, the exit sign comes into view. You’re talking, but he can’t hear you. The words float ahead, jostled and spliced by the whining guitar riff peeling from the surrounding speakers. He hears the anger, though. It doesn’t bother him.
Once the door closes behind him, the stuffy bar now in his rearview and the night air filling his lungs, he drops his weight back, no longer moving so willingly.
You grunt, but otherwise seem unfazed. Only tightening your grip and continuing your lecture—
“—at fault. I mean, seriously, we fucking agreed! It was mutual! We said we didn’t want the dynamic to change, then you down a few too many, and now all of a sudden, you’re measuring dicks with Steve. I mean, you might as well’ve just pissed on me—it was too fucking obv—”
Pebbles kick up beneath his skidding shoes as he finds his balance.
“Oh, sure, make this harder than it has to be. You’re great at that—”
The last word catches in your throat as he pulls you the opposite way, back to the bar. You stumble, trying your best to resist, but he’s moving you easily.
“Eddie, what the fuck did I say? If you can’t behave, we’re leaving. We’re not going back— Agh—”
Pressed against the brick wall of the building, hidden in the alley beside it, your complaints fall to unintelligible nonsense as Eddie attacks your neck, lips ravaging any sliver of skin he can find. His body envelops yours, keeping you still with a force he can’t find it in him to tame, especially for the sake of propriety. Not now. Not after waiting so dreadfully long.
“E-Eddie, slow d-down, Jesus—”
“Can’t,” he grunts, finding his way to your mouth, mumbling like a wanton man. “I need you, baby. Need you so fuckin’ bad—” His hips jut forward, searching for reprieve from the miserable strain of his jeans.
When your back arches, he sinks his talons in, blunt nails biting and fingers digging as he clings onto you. Because in this moment, you’re the only thing keeping him from falling off the face of the earth; he feels it racing beneath his feet. Your eyes on his, the taste of your lips—it slows everything down.
“Shit, you’re so pretty. So, so pretty—”
Every word is mindless, slurred, but true. Inhibition has long-since died a silent, restful death inside him, buried somewhere low, near the hearth that never stops burning for you.
His hands grope and grab at anything they can reach—your ass, your thighs, your arms, your breasts. Anything. All of it keeps him here for one second more. Grounded in your softness. Steady on your terrain.
“Eds, we—we have to go,” you gasp, pliant beneath his roving touch. He closes the gap, tongue tangling with yours in a sloppy, searing kiss that makes his mind whir and his ears fill with a fizzing sound.
“Nuh-unh, wanna stay,” he pants, nipping at your pulse point, feeling your blood rush. “Wanna stay with you.”
His hands slip beneath your skirt as you hold onto his shoulders. You give a weak push when his fingers pull at the gusset of your panties, but it’s not nearly enough to deter him.
“We can’t st—ay, fuck— You’re drunk, Eddie. I don’t even know how you’re hard right now.”
He hums, straightening to his full height and pressing you harder against the wall. His breath comes fast; he can’t seem to catch it as he watches you.
How is it not obvious?
“‘S you,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your temple. “‘S all you. Makin’ me burn…. Makin’ me want you so damn bad it hurts.”
You swallow, lashes fluttering as you lean into his gentle touch. “I’m sorry I hurt you…but we can’t do this. Not he—”
“You don’t want me?” His voice is brittle. Breaking.
A night full of small rejections comes to a head as the weight of your words—sincerity and conviction threaded through every syllable—crashes into him, a frenzied tidal wave leaving wreckage in its wake.
He only manages to retreat half a step before you’re pulling him back, arms wrapping around his neck.
“I do want you,” you rush, pressing imploring kisses onto his rosy cheeks, tiny promises sealed with sticky lipgloss. “I always want you.”
His vision blurs as he peers down, frizzy curls hanging low in his eyeline. Confusion is a bitter thing as he finds the hem of your skirt. There’s mercy in the feeling of the grooved stitch beneath the rough pads of his fingers.
“Even now?” he asks, low and timid for the first time tonight.
Your arms release him, trailing down the sinewy plane of his chest. You lift his shirt only an inch—just enough for your nails to find his flushed skin, enough to feel him twitch as you explore so freely.
“Always.”
He pauses, searching for something in your gaze. Or, maybe something in the silence. And it’s the silence that answers.
With a hurried breath, he tears at your panties. It’s a quick, controlled rip, and he stuffs the fabric into his back pocket.
You gasp, but he drops before you get the chance to scold him. His jeans do little to mitigate the sting of gravel as his knees hit the ground. He hikes your thigh over his shoulder, disappearing under your skirt.
“Ed— Oh, God!”
His face drags through your folds, nose catching on your clit as his tongue sinks into you, plunging as deep as it’ll go. But the thundering ecstasy of finally tasting you—and himself—is cut short when you tug at his hair with a force far too sharp to be pleasurable. He groans, missing your heat as you haul him up to his feet.
“Eddie! We can’t do that here,” you bite out, glancing behind him. “That’s what I was trying to tell you.”
The worry in your brow catches on something inside him, and if he had the right words, he’d make it go away. But there are no right words, only burrowing panic and gnawing desire so deep, it’s almost torture.
“Please, baby, I’ll be good,” he pants, pawing restlessly at your body. “I swear to God, I’ll be good. Just— Just let me— Ah, Jesus!” His forehead falls to your shoulder and he hangs onto you, a firm grip on your ass as he pulls you into him. The movement is meant to alleviate, to save his sanity, but all it does is remind him of your denial, of the space he can’t close, and the release he can’t reach.
Your fingers begin to soothe his scalp. He matches his breathing to yours; in and out, in and out, in and out.
Curious and tender, you mutter, “It’s really that bad?”
He shakes his head, lifting it to meet your concerned gaze.
You don’t understand. You can’t possibly know what it feels like. This dull ache. Persistent, like a gnat in his ear, it’s been with him all night, made worse by you. Your perfume, your soft touch, the glimmer in your eyes. The distance, the act, the canyon between words and truth.
It’s all a great pain. An infection that’s been festering for hours. You have the medicine and you won’t give it to him.
His voice cracks, “So bad. I’m achin’ for you, can’t you feel it?” His hips jerk forward as he waits for your response, but the silence is too loud. He can’t stand it.
“You’re just so pretty…” Dazed, his eyes rove over your wrinkled top, fabric askew and showing more skin than you started the night showing. “‘N so soft.” Ducking closer, he rumbles out a drawling, “Mm, you smell so good.”
Again, you look behind him, somewhere just over his right shoulder and he sways, chasing your gaze.
“And you can’t wait ten minutes to get to your apartment?” you ask, eyes narrowed.
He sags against you, a whine crawling up from deep within his throat. “No…. No more. I’ve been waiting all night. I can’t— I—”
“Okay, okay, I get it. I hear you. Just— Hey, Eds, look at me—”
Your palms cradle his head and he can smell the lavender hand soap he put in his apartment just for you.
“Be quick,” you whisper, tipping your chin to hold his attention.
He perks up, swallowing harshly as he stares at you, trying to decode the two simple words. But you might as well have spoken another language because his mind is running circles around the meaning, never through.
“Hey—” Your eyes dart downward, stall there, then you close the distance.
It’s messy and wet and he can still taste you on his tongue—smell you smeared on his skin—but you don’t seem to mind as you deepen the kiss, your mouth parting around a moan. It’s over too soon, though.
A delicate string of spit connects him to you as you pull back. “Take what you need, ba—”
He’s moving before you even finish the endearment, hands racing across your body, tugging at fabric, kneading skin—anything he can touch. His jacket is around your shoulders in no time, protecting you from the rough brick. The cuffs on his belt clang as he unfastens the homemade contraption, the button of his jeans next.
“Oh, thank you, baby,” he breathes into your mouth, using his full weight to trap you against the wall. “Thank you, thank you—shit! You’re so good to me,” he whimpers, bucking his hips as he frees his length, wrapping a hand around the base until it throbs beneath his unyielding grip. “So fuckin’ good to me. Wanna be good to you, too.”
He fumbles a bit, struggling to move while still trying to maintain every point of contact he can. Once he manages to pick up your thigh, hitching it onto his hip, he guides the blunt tip of his cock through your slick folds. A soft mewl escapes you and the sound only makes him twitch, a stream of sticky precum dribbling from his slit.
“Wanna be inside you. God, I always wanna be inside you—”
Your voice cuts him off, strained with a familiar need as your forehead falls to his. “Please, Eddie— Please just fuck me already, I can’t—”
His body responds before his mind even registers the plea, jerking forward until he’s buried deep inside you. A resounding groan echoes through the empty alleyway, drowning out your shrill cry. Though, you have enough sense to slam a hand over your open mouth, muffling the lewd noise
He, however, is too drunk to care. Drunk on the alcohol humming in his bloodstream. Drunk on the feeling of your walls squeezing him so tight, he could count your heart rate just from the pulse of your pussy alone.
“Ohh, my—fuck! Jesus, fuck—you’re tryin’ to kill me, you’re tryin’ to kill me,” he babbles incessantly, squirming from the pressure.
Your hand drops to his shoulder, holding onto him so tightly, your fingers pinch. “E—ddie, shh—ah!”
Torturously slow, he pulls out. Your cunt clings to him, contracting—almost a proper plea to stay—and yet, you seem to revel in the drag of his length. He knows you feel it. The thrum of his veins, the curve that stretches you, the thick ridge that catches on your entrance.
With just the tip inside, he shudders, his head hanging as he stares downward. The bright neon sign on the corner of the building beams, making his cock shine with your arousal.
He pauses.
Then, his hips snap forward, marking the start of a suffocating rhythm as he forces the breath from your body with every thrust. He moves wildly, a frenzied pace with one intention, and one intention only.
“Oh, God, oh, shit, baby! You feel s’good.… Takin’ such good care o’ me—thank you! Thank you— S’sweet to me—” he pants, slipping a large, heavy hand behind your neck until your gaze drops, joining him as he watches himself disappear inside of you. “Ah, look at that— Mmm, so pretty when you’re full o’ me.”
The wiry hair at the base of his shaft begins to stick to his skin, weighed down by the mess he’s making out of you. Glimmering slick forming a milky ring, droplets splashing from the strength of his thrusts. A giddy chuckle rumbles through his chest, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he admires just how wet you are. How wet he makes you.
The sound of his leather jacket scratching against the brick fills his ears as he falls against you, muscles straining. Your eyelids droop low, but your gaze hasn’t moved from where he’s fucking into you. His mouth finds yours, lips gliding as he hungrily swallows your every moan.
Sweat beads at his hairline, and his nails sink into your thigh, drawing you impossibly closer. Because he needs more. He needs all of you. Your walls are pried apart by his thick length and it’s still not enough.
He lets go of your neck, pushing two fingers into your mouth. “Suck.”
His breath turns ragged and you finally look at him, your eyes dark and glossy as your lips reach his knuckles, your cheeks hollowing out in that way that always makes his knees buckle. His hips jerk, rhythm shifting at the memory.
He can feel the flames spreading, overtaking the hearth, but he’s not ready yet. He’s not done with you.
His fingers fall from between your lips as he reaches below, pressing tight circles into your clit. You choke on your breath and the sharp sound makes him grin.
“Yeah, there you go, sweetheart. Fuck—you’re so tight! Squeezin’ the life outta me— God, I know you wan’ it—cum for me. Soak my fucking cock,” he grits out, watching your eyes roll with rapt attention. “Mark me, baby, drown me—”
“F-Fu— Eddie!”
Your back arches and you go rigid; he knows you’re on the very edge. He knows you. He knows the exact high your voice reaches before you come undone, and even though you’re trying not to, he knows you’re losing yourself.
“Give it to me,” he drawls, practically purring at you. “Give in, baby. Please, I know you need it—”
“Shh, shh, we have to—b—e quiet! You have t—o keep it d— Oh, God!”
Your cunt clenches around him, tighter than he can handle after suffering from your denial for so long. You're moving against him now, convulsing and chasing after the pleasure like an ebbing wave. His body starts to curl inward, but he tries his best to keep a good enough pace. Your moans ring in his ear as he drives into you, shivering at the obscenely wet sounds.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck! F-Feels so— God, ‘m g-gonna fill you up, baby. Hm? You wan’ it? Wanna feel full o’ me? Wanna hold it for me? You’re always so good at it—”
His breathless words seem to have no effect on you as you settle limply, held up by his frame and the wall at your back. You give no indication that you heard him, there’s only the flutter of your lashes and the lull of your head against the brick. His palm presses against your neck, just enough to keep you still, to hold your far-out gaze.
“You listenin’? Hm?” he pants, landing a firm kiss on your slackened mouth. “Y’gonna empty my balls for me, baby? Know you love to feel me drippin’ outta you.”
Your cunt responds with a weak pulse. He chuckles, only to be cut off by his own sputtering groan as a particularly deep stroke shoots right through him. You whimper, and he knows he’s the only thing keeping you from buckling to the ground as your arms struggle to wrap around him.
“E-Eddie…”
Static buzzes in his mind as you mewl, soft gasps hiccuping in time with his pounding thrusts. His hand drops low, splaying just beneath your navel. Then, he presses, relishing the catch in your breath.
“Ah, there I am,” he mutters, going dizzy at the feeling of his cock-head nudging his palm. “Here, right? Y’gonna keep me here, baby?”
You nod, letting out a frail, broken sound that tells him all he needs to hear. You want it. Need it, even.
His eyes roll, balls pulling taut as his rhythm falters. “Oh, f-fuck! Jesus Christ, you’re made f’me—you are,” he grunts, nosing against your neck. “Fit together so nicely. Hmm, made f’me, made to be full o’ me—”
Your face crumbles as you clench around him once more, another orgasm rolling in, quiet as a tide, and this time it’s softer. He can still feel you shake, but there’s a dragging sense of freedom. Of letting go.
And you drag him with you. Under the tide. Under the surface where everything sounds fuzzy and he feels weightless.
“Jesus—fuck! Ah, shit!”
He gives one final, deep thrust, burying himself inside your heat as he spills into you. Waves of pleasure crash through him, so overwhelming, his hips stall. He shivers, almost violently, and his words tumble out, barely loud enough to be a whisper. “God, baby, thank you. T-Thank you. Shit—you’re so good to me.”
He stays like that—arms wrapped around you, your fingers in his hair—for a while. It’s only when you shift, repositioning yourself against the wall, that he picks his head up. Indulging himself in your gentle kiss. His languid lips speak a sweetness far greater than his words could manage at the moment.
“I feel better now,” he mumbles, letting himself explore along your jaw, lazy and sated, but needing to taste you all the same.
“Yeah, I bet,” you snort, tucking his hair behind his ear, then twisting a damp curl around your finger.
With much reluctance, he finally pulls out, both of you wincing at the loss. He fixes himself quietly, buttoning his pants again and hiding his smile as he notices you squirm. You adjust his jacket over your shoulders and smooth your skirt. His eyes follow the movement and all he can think about is how much he wishes he could just sit on the ground beneath you and watch himself leak out of your pretty pussy.
But then you clear your throat, motioning to the end of the alley and he offers his arm. You smirk, shaking your head as you accept his offer. As he passes under the neon sign that says, “Bar,” he stares at the entrance to the building.
“Mm, I wan’ a beer,” he hums wistfully, starting to veer off course.
“Unh-unh!” Both of your hands circle his bicep, yanking him back. “No, we’re leaving. I’m taking you home.”
“But—”
“No ‘but’s.” You continue to drag him further away from the bar, heading toward his van. “You’re going home, then you’re going to sleep. And tomorrow, you’re gonna call up Steve and apologize for trying to fight him.”
Eddie’s face twists up, a sharp scoff falling from his lips. “‘M not apologizing. He was trying to touch you—”
“No,” you utter pointedly, digging into his back pocket—ignoring his quiet, “Hey, buy me dinner first”—and pulling out his keys. “He was not, that was you. He was trying to stop you because he thought you were being a perv.”
“I was being a perv,” he grins, watching you unlock the van. You shove him into the passenger side and he gracefully complies, settling in a haphazard huff. His eyes follow you through the windshield as you speedwalk around to the driver side door, which he reaches across the console to open for you.
“An unwelcome perv,” you amend, climbing into the seat. You check the mirrors first, then turn the key in the ignition. Eddie sighs contentedly as the van rumbles to life, the tape he mixed for you already filtering through the stereo.
He leans close, looming over you. With exaggerated slowness—a test, a toeing of boundaries—he drags two fingers up your thigh, beneath your skirt, until he feels the sticky combination of his cum and your slick smeared against your skin. “Knew you liked it,” he purrs lowly, sucking the digits clean.
Your breath comes quicker and shakier as you give him a sidelong glance. “You’re disgusting.”
His grin stretches into something wolfish, something predatory and ostensibly clear-headed, despite the glossy look in his eyes and the sway in his body. Quickly, he makes another swipe between your legs, this time relishing the hitch in your throat as he grazes your warm, puffy folds. He shrugs, admiring the milky gleam on his fingers before taking them into his mouth once more. “Chef’s gotta taste his own food.”
With that, your trembling hand lands on the gear shift and the van jolts into reverse.
A/ N: Guys, is this anything? Let me know🧎♂️It’s been in the drafts since October🥀
Also, it's the one year anniversary of me writing fics :) One year ago (almost to the day), I posted this rambling drabble. Since then, my work has improved so much, and I’ve gotten to talk to so many of you about your Eddie thoughts which is all I ever wanted from this.
Thank you for reading my silly, not-so-little ramblings. Thank you for making this an enjoyable space to create in. Thank you for always showing up to my ‘Is anyone interested in…’ posts with 110% enthusiasm. And thank you for talking to me about my writing.
I think that’s what I appreciate the most—how much I get to connect with y’all over what I’ve worked so hard on. I love reading your reactions to my fics, I cherish them so deeply. I’m also glad you feel comfortable with me and enjoy my writing enough to want to hear my thoughts on your Eddie ideas. I love this space and I’m glad you guys are always down for a little chitty-chat.
Thank you for sticking around and taking an interest in my work and especially me as a person <3 Love you guys <3
mdni!! 18+. smut. smut with no plot at all actually. modern au.
title based on if you’re too shy (let me know) - the 1975
a/n: heyyy i’m back with some degenerate smut!! it’s my first time ever doing a fic like this so if it isn’t formatted well/is confusing pleaseeee let me know!! r has a faceless nsfw account on twitter, eddie is a content creator/camboy with a large following. they’re both absolute down bad losers for one another! if it’s not your thing pls feel free to scroll
this @gutsnhugs kurt fic literally blew my mind and kinda forced me into finally writing some camboy!eddie so everyone say thank you!!
˗ˏˋ 🍒 ˎˊ˗
you're horny.
horny and alone.
which wasn't a rarity, it was just that today was particularly awful and nothing on this wretched site is seeming to satiate the ache between your legs.
eddie always seemed to be able to, watching the one video of him being ridden like an absolute stallion over and over until you'd cum enough times to fall asleep.
but you need him, need him here.
the ache keeps coming back, each time worse than before. a deep, aching hunger for this strangers cock. it was debauchery, genuine filthy need to be used by this man that the autoscroll videos of puppies playing with ducklings couldn't even cleanse.
you click the small envelope on his profile on a whim, it's not like he'd ever see your message, god knows how many desperate women and men alike sent him utter vulgarity day in day out. this was more for your own appeasement. to know that you tried, even if you weren't successful.
you've posted a few videos here and there, garnering a couple hundred likes on a few. mostly just of your hand between your legs, shuddered gasps soundtracking the tapes. but you were nowhere near on eddie's level.
he had thousands of followers, all salivating at the mouth, clambering for the next video, the next stream of him mindlessly playing with his cock- hell, they'd cream themselves for just a tweet back saying hi.
🐇baby
i need to fuck u so bad lol.
he wouldn't even see it.
you'd be cursed to a life of anonymous thirsting forever. unless of course you accidentally stumbled upon him in the street, accidentally bumping his shoulder which forces you to apologise, therein which he falls deeply, madly in love, fucking your brains out each and every day until the end of your lives.
but as delusional as you may be, you know that the likelihood of that ever happening is zero to none. so, instead of pining over some dude you'll never meet, you lock your phone and attempt to fall asleep. dreaming sweet musings of curly-headed men who live to make you cum.
-
the shrill ringing of your alarm is abrupt, forcefully prying you from your dreamland and back into the dull dregs of corporate life.
you don't even look at your phone until the coffee is in your mug, leaning over the kitchen island to find what was perhaps the worst notification you could've ever received.
edward🖤
is that u on ur page?
if it is....... i'm down
very down
oh my god.
your heart thuds, feeling the mismatched beats in your throat.
firstly on account for him even seeing your disgraceful thirsting, but secondly for the fact that he's very down.
very down?
mortification rushes through your veins, heat creeping through your body in complete disgust. and arousal. definitely arousal.
🐇baby
oh hey....
didn't think you'd actually see that i'm so sorry🫣
ya they're me but i don't post my face #corporategirl
jesus christ.
you were beyond redemption, so disgustingly down bad for this man that he had you quivering over your burnt black coffee at six thirty in the fucking morning.
that far-fetched, ludicrous fantasy of yours seemed so terrifyingly feasible now that you want to cull it from your mind. rid yourself of any and all fantasies about him, just in case you were to meet and he could somehow read your tainted mind.
work today would only be made a hundred times harder knowing that you'd be waiting for a message back. for some inkling of hope to keep this facade up. he'd probably do it too- play along with your sick games in a bid to get you to pay for his top-tier onlyfans or some shit.
-
it's almost lunch before you're completely calmed down, absentmindedly checking your phone when you see that stupid little black heart again.
edward_munz followed you back!
edward🖤
i see everything lol
do you really need to or do you have post nut clarity and regret ever sending that message
bc i don't
if you were wondering
you hate the fact that he has your ears burning from four silly little messages, only despising yourself more for immediately replying.
🐇baby
that's so scary
no post nut clarity here
you spare a quick glance around the, mostly silent office, making sure nobody was creeping over your shoulder, checking in on their pervert coworker.
🐇baby
you just nutted?
without showing me?🥺
you're disgusting.
immediately regretful for your no-better-than-a-dude's words.
🐇baby
omg i'm sorry ew
he doesn't reply, or even see the messages. forcing your heart into arrest, your pussy already throbbing at the most surface level flirting the twitter dm's had ever seen.
the knot in your stomach grows with every passing minute, was it over now? before it had even started? you should've kept your mouth shut, participated in the parasocial teasing and then gone home to up your sub amount like a good little follower instead.
ping
edward🖤 sent an image
you tentatively click the notification, it'd be a sub-list. one telling you to send him an extra ten dollars for the dm's package.
oh no.
your head snaps up, glancing at your unassuming colleagues again. double, triple insurance that none of them could see your phone screen.
it's a picture of his lower stomach, covered in a thick white tinted substance, the curly hairs on his groin all slicked with the stuff and the pretty pink tip of his glistening cock in the background.
edward🖤
is that anything?
proof enough for u?
🐇baby
wow
fuck i'm at work rn
NEED to fuck you for sure
or need you to fuck me maybe
edward🖤
if ur serious, i'm always down
ur fucking hot
you're fucking hot?
coming from the very man that had you pleading for mercy from your own bastard hand. you're honoured, completely, unabashedly honoured.
🐇baby
i'm so serious
are u??
don't make me get my hopes up for nothing
edward🖤
ofc i am
do u even live anywhere near indiana?
indiana? the love of your life has been in indiana this entire time?
🐇baby
i live in indiana! lol
i live just outside the city
what about you?
edward🖤
hawkins
lol
that's like
a 40 minute drive from me
u might be worth it tho
🐇baby
might be?
edward🖤
ok
WILL be
better?
🐇baby
much better
r u 100% serious
i've never done this before i don't know if you're just trying to be nice
edward🖤
100% serious.
if ur scared we can always ft before?
you grin at your phone, a loser of the highest order. it was the bare minimum chivalry that one would expect but it had you biting your lip anyway.
edward🖤
but i wanna see you
i mean it
🐇baby
okay
i want to see u too
u don't even know what i look like lol
edward🖤
true
show me
if we're gonna make sweet love or wtv i should know
🐇baby
lolllll
you scroll through your camera roll, swiping past the numerous images of your food and the sunset in an attempt to find a half-decent picture of yourself. there's one taken from your laptop, lead on your stomach with your feet dangling helplessly in the back with your finger positioned right between your teeth.
edward🖤 reacted ❤️ to your message
fuuuucckkkk
and you want to fuck me?
why??
🐇baby
oh my god
don't do that
you know ur hot
edward🖤
i'm so fucking hard again lol
wyd saturday?
it's taking everything within you not to scuttle off to the bathroom to ease the pulsing of your cunt. he was ridiculously smooth. charming his way right into your sodden panties, not that that wasn't an easy feat for someone who looked like him.
🐇baby
nothing
or...
i can be doing something if u want
edward🖤
now you are
i'm coming over
need to feel u
so so bad
there’s a knock at your cubicle wall, startling you out of your skin. kristy swings round, none the wiser to your deplorable antics, "we're gonna grab some lunch, you coming?" so completely oblivious to how much her choice of words rang true.
you shield your phone with your entire body, protecting her from the filth that lay upon it, you're not entirely sure who would end up more traumatised. "oh.. uhm yeah, let me just finish up and i'll meet you downstairs," nodding sweetly, a complete facade to cover up who you really were.
🐇baby
i’m so so sorry
i have to go
work thing
i’ll make it up to you later
edward🖤
oh fuck you
that’s so mean
i’ll remember that
i’m gonna stream later
you better be there
his invitation makes you smile to yourself, haphazardly tossing your belongings into your bag, hoping your beaming grin and warm skin wouldn't arouse suspicion with your coworkers. you've no idea how you'll make it through lunch, let alone the rest of your workday all the while knowing eddie was barely an hour away, stroking his cock to the thought of you.
🐇baby
wouldn’t miss it
-
you don’t waste a millisecond between getting through your front door and thinking about how you’ll make it up to eddie.
shuffling through your usual routine of stripping off your rigid work clothes, reheating whatever bland variation of leftovers left in the fridge and planting yourself on the couch to watch hours of trashy tv. only today, you move upstairs, to your bedroom— to privacy.
you had an array of previously filmed videos, mostly awfully-lit, barely legible thirty second clips of you cumming, made for the sole purpose of garnering likes from thirsty old men online. they wouldn't do, weren't up to the standard that he deserved for your cruel blue-balling.
it comes to you as you finish the borderline inedible spaghetti, sat cross-legged on your bed. you'd make it up to him a thousand times over, and no doubt rile him up a thousand more.
🐇baby
when r u going live
need to see u
edward🖤
look at you begging for me now
you still owe me
but give me ten and i'll be live
perfect.
enough time to set yourself up, laptop poised and ready to go, pussy purring for a glimpse of his ringed fingers pumping his shaft. knowing now, that he was just as eager to fuck you, as you were him- you wanted to make this something, worthwhile even. purposefully changing into an especially racy pair of black panties, not that he'd see much, that wasn't the point.
your phone buzzes, snapping you out of the enchanting visions of him fucking you into the mattress. a link, to his stream sits waiting, taunting. making the distracted fluttering of your cunt oh so much worse.
edward🖤
just for you
you tilt the laptop screen, just enough to be captured by your phone, joining the stream to a dimly-lit image of him sat resting on his elbow. one hand wrapped around his phone, the other moving slowly over his hip.
his eyes flit between whatever was on his screen to the chat, thousands of faceless people begging to see more. eddie could go live anytime and be certain that at least a thousand porn-brained sickos would be tuning in to watch.
"how's your day been?" he asks, voice seeping through your dark bedroom, "y'think about me at all?" chuckling low, still engrossed by whatever it was he was watching.
god, you hope it's you.
the chat lights up with a hundred messages. ‘all day everyday!' and 'i never stop thinking about you' fill the screen. he had them wrapped around his little finger, lapping up the petty scraps he threw them.
and don't get it wrong, you were absolutely one of them. look at the state he'd gotten you in without ever touching you.
your hand sinks down between your thighs, phone positioned carefully on your chest as you hit record. he hadn't even started touching himself yet and you were soaked. the commanding boom of his voice, the lazy eye contact with the camera and the sheer exhilaration of knowing you'd see exactly what you do to him on camera.
your fingers dip into the soft lace, circling your clit a few measly times before sliding between your wet folds and into your quivering hole, "oh fuuck," gasping right into the microphone, words intertwined with shaky moans.
eddie looks at the camera, as if he's looking through the plastic right at you, "a little excited today, aren't you?" fucker, it's like he knows. "'m gonna start in a sec.." gripping his dick through the material, ensuring the vulgar outline of his erection can be appropriately seen by all.
"shit.." murmuring without meaning to, so entirely wrecked by just a few words.
he tugs on his sweatpants, tongue peeking out of his shiny lips as his cock jumps up, hitting against his stomach, already glossy with pre-cum. "that what you wanted, hm?" wrapping his hand around the base as his phone falls onto the mattress, images of you already burned into his mind, you hope.
your fingers glide back to your clit, tracing around the thrumming nub, right in time with his fist moving up and down. you share the same tempo, despite the distance. that must mean something, maybe.
“oh eddie,” you whine, the video now a shaky haze, attributed to your imminent orgasm, “touch me.. fuck please touch me,” mewling into your phone, only exaggerating a little, mostly for his benefit.
it doesn’t take long for you to make yourself cum, fucking your fingers desperately, a pool of your spend coating the digits when your stomach flips. projecting a chorus line of expletives, littered with echoes of his name.
he grunts, just as you begin to tremble— connected by a higher being you’re sure. his thumb teasing his tip, drawing this out for as long as it took, milking the drooling sycophants for every last dollar they were willing to tip.
“please please please,” you pant, seeking his permission to let yourself topple over, “thank you.. thank- shit,” crashing into your climax, crying out with little care as to who could hear.
your phone slides from your heaving chest, almost immediately ready to go again when your eyes focus and connect with his.
it takes a minute, but you gain enough semblance of control eventually, tapping hurriedly to get the video sent and into his hands.
his phone brightens up the inked skin of his rib cage and for a moment you think he might just ignore it until he pauses, recognises your name and lets curiosity take over. the camera jolts, his laptop shoved slightly lower, so as to not expose whatever might be waiting behind the notification.
“oh shit,” eddie mutters, glancing at the chat only to instantly flick back to your little pornography attempt. “jesus christ,” swiftly lowering the volume of his phone when the video plays.
this is it.
everything you’d ever wanted, transpiring over a grainy livestream on a rainy thursday evening. it’s awe inspiring, just last night you had meant nothing to him and now you’re making him jitter like a stupid school boy.
the chat awakens when he puts the phone to his face, muffled sounds of your pleas ring out for thousands to hear.
what’s wrong?
pls don’t go!!!
need to see u cum👅
his hand reignites, watching diligently how your hips roll and you fuck yourself to his nonchalance, “fuck.. yeah, that’s it bunny,” he keens, the mindless nickname you’d given yourself tumbling out of his lips.
what’s he watching
who is that lol.
relentlessly fucking his fist now, no longer concerned with the stream, but instead you. every single sense of his is honed into you and his fucking cock.
he has a gf???
“y’gonna take my cock, huh?” voice full of rasp, dominance. you’re shivering all over again, grinding down onto nothing, “gonna cum all over my fuckin’ cock,” a demand, not a question.
your cunt drips, hand now back in your panties, teasing your clit with his words. with the image of him losing all composure to your video. his strangled moans travel through the speaker, masquerading the wet shlick of your pussy.
“doin’ so good f’me..” you can see his fingers scramble restart the recording, the others vigorously pumping around his cock, “ohh.. shit, bunny. fuck, i gotta feel you.. need’a..” trailing off into silence to allow your wails through clearly.
who even is that.
this is so fucking hot🥵
wish that was me
the tattoos littering his body gleam with sweat, flexing with every jerk of his hand, every time your syrupy iteration of his name calls out through the phone. it’s sickening how your own voice makes you shudder, getting off to yourself seemed narcissistic but it fills your stomach with electricity.
eddie must agree, sighing into the air with zero constraint, “gonna fill you up.. yeah? you want that? want me to cum inside y’perfect pussy?”
“fuck yes.. fuck.. please,” begging him, so feeble. at his mercy and so willingly too.
the camera wobbles, matching his ferocious pace though you see him perfectly. see his pretty cock twitch between his palm, “fuck yeah baby.. fuck yes, gonna cum.. gonna cum right here,” garbled nonsense mostly but it sends you hurtling into another orgasm.
seemingly just in front of his own, strained sobs fall out of his pouted lips, deliriously chanting your display name, “yes bunny, take it— take it all,” thick ropes of cum paint his hand and thighs, over and over.
jesus christ🔥🔥🔥🔥
just came everywhere lmao!
he’s ruined, a shell of the cocky, egotistical exterior he had on prior. and all because of you.
his arm falls to his side, then, abruptly the screen goes dark, his laptop snapped shut without so much as a goodbye nary thank you to his loyal following.
there’s maybe a single second of silence before your phone explodes, vibrations one after the other alerting you to his frenzied messages.
edward🖤
ur fucking crazy
genuinely fucked
did you see how much i fucking came
do u want me to lose my mind??
was that u making it up to me bc shit
your heart beats a million miles a minute, if this was what happened over some low quality livestream, how would you ever cope with him in actuality? there’s not a chance in hell you’ll make it out alive.
🐇baby
so you liked it??
edward🖤
i’m abt to drive to your house rn
i’ll show you how much i liked it
loved it
i loved it
🐇baby
please do
i came twice lol
i want u
edward🖤
im gonna cum again
show me u rn
just anything
pls
you diligently open the camera, cheek pressed into the pillow with your eyes wide, gazing directly at him through miles of separation. in the most ludicrous way, it feels like he’s peering right back— together even though you couldn’t be further from it.
edward🖤
fuvkkkk gof
i’m cumming
i’m in love with u
come here
let me come ther idc
come on my face
five unconscious words were going to ruin your life forever.
✧˚₊‧ steve harrington fucking you silly after you get stood up !
his cock drills in and out of you, the bed creaking and the headboard cracking against the wall of your bedroom as he thrusts harder.
his hair was a mess, his hands gripping your thighs to the point you could see marks begin to appear on your skin, but you couldn't care. your mind was a jumbled mess, hair sticking to your forehead, mouth remaining agape no matter how many times you tried to keep it close.
steve leans in, pressing a kiss onto your lips, that fails halfway through because of a moan escaping your throat before he could lock lips, smirking against your chin. "poor baby." he whispers, you knew that cocky tone too well, you knew what kind of things it did to you. "can't even kiss me? that's sad... am i fucking you that good?"
your back arched off the bed, nails digging deep into steve's shoulders, leaving red markings on them as each thrust hits you harder and harder. he's always had an effect on you that you couldn't describe, but you didn't push away either.
neither shaking or nodding your head, you tilt your head back, hair sprawled on the pillow as your walls stretch around him. "steve! ngh, fuck! fuck! steve! s'so good..."
he smiles to himself, kissing your cheek as his hands drift down to the back of your knees, pushing your legs back to have your knees hit your breasts, leaning back. "oh yeah? too good huh? your pussy is incredible, baby, taking me so good."
you moan louder as he changes the position, feeling your heels hit his shoulders, toes curling up in the air as your hands find themselves in the bedsheets, curling the material.
you see, you were supposed to be going on a date at this time... keyword; supposed.
you were all dolled up, nice smelling perfume, lingerie ready because you were interested in this guy, you weren't going to front... but then, when you drove yourself downtown and went to the restaurant... he wasn't there.
minutes passed by, and he didn't show up, you even gave this bastard an hour to show up... he never came.
which left you, slightly embarrassed, more pissed if anything, in this nice restaurant, with no date. your interest in this guy immediately died after that.
but luckily, your friend, steve harrington, was at work at the family video right down the street from the restaurant, so you drove over to the family video, rented out a couple of movies, and definitely sensed steve's brown eyes on you.
so now, you were here, in your bed, completely naked, make up ruined and steve's cock bulldozing in and out of your wet folds.
"steveeeee, oh fuck! don't stop, don't fuckin s-stop!" you slur out, words getting mixed together and cut off, pleasure seeping into every fiber of your bones as he brings you closer and closer to your orgasm. you couldn't even feel half of your body, tingles running up your body, it felt so good.
"don't worry, hun." he whispers, squeezing your legs which fit perfectly in his palms. "don't worry 'bout me stopping. with this perfect cunt? how could i?" he asks, almost himself.
his voice alone makes your cunt flutter, but you squeeze around him anything, your version of telling him that you're close.
you're not close enough to bite him anyway.
his voice rings out again, mixing in with the wood cracking and the sloppy sounds of wet mixing with wet. "this pussy is so wet f'me... it's cute, honey, especially because you were waiting for someone else to ruin it only an hour ago."
your face heats up. "ste- steve, don't. please."
"oh but why not?" he shakes his heads, purposely dragging his cock against your walls slower than usual but going deeper. "because you know it's true? you know this sweet girl is so needy for some cock that she lets me fill it? it's perfectly okay sweetheart, just be honest 'bout it."
fuck him. fuck him for being able to ruin you so good, and fuck you for deciding to let him fuck you... especially because you know damn well he was going to act like this.
but thank any god above that your date bailed out on you, cause it got you a good taste of harrington cock!
click here for main masterlist! 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃
AUTHOR'S NOTE: seriously, I am addicted to writing about this fuck ass dude, I can’t stop. he’s so fun to write for too, he can be pathetic but so dominant at the same time… I’ve been thinking of creating some au’s for him and for other characters… having sum thoughtssss.
thank you for all the support in every way possible! all support is very much appreciated! all content created on this blog is mine, do not copy or sent it through ai!
The late afternoon sun slanted through the windows of your shared apartment, painting warm stripes across the plush living room rug. You were curled in your favorite armchair, a thick novel propped in your lap, completely absorbed. The only sounds were the gentle hum of the refrigerator and the soft turn of a page.
Steve was supposed to be at the video store for another hour. But you’d heard the key in the lock twenty minutes ago, his familiar, slightly clumsy entrance as he kicked off his Nikes and dumped his keys in the bowl. He’d padded into the living room, given you a soft “hey,” and you’d hummed in response, barely looking up. He’d disappeared into the kitchen, and you’d sunk back into your fictional world.
You should have known better. Steve Harrington, when he loved, loved with a terrifying, all-consuming focus. And he was obsessed with you.
You felt him before you saw him. A shift in the air, a new warmth near your legs. You lowered your book.
He was on his knees on the floor in front of your chair. He’d changed out of his work polo into a soft, worn Henley. His hair was slightly mussed, his eyes dark and intent, fixed not on your face, but on the space between your thighs where your loose cotton shorts had ridden up. There was no smirk, no playful preamble. His expression was one of pure, desperate reverence.
“Steve?” you asked, your voice quiet.
He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he placed a large, warm hand on each of your knees and gently, inexorably, pushed them apart. The book slid from your fingers, landing with a soft thud on the rug. He moved forward, settling himself in the space he’d created, his broad shoulders nudging your thighs wider. He looked up at you from between your legs, his eyes glazed with a kind of hungry awe.
“Just… just need a taste, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice already rough. “Can’t think about anything else. Been thinking about it all day. Please.”
It wasn’t really a request. It was a confession. He leaned in, nuzzling the soft skin of your inner thigh through the cotton, inhaling deeply. A low, needy whimper vibrated against you. “Fuck, you smell so good. Even through this.”
His hands slid up to the waistband of your shorts and your panties beneath, hooking his fingers in. In one smooth, practiced motion, he pulled them both down your legs and off, tossing them aside without a glance. The cool air kissed your skin for a second before he replaced it with the scorching heat of his gaze.
He stared, utterly transfixed. “God, you’re pretty,” he breathed, almost to himself. “The prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Mine. All mine.”
Then he dove in.
There was no teasing build-up, no gentle exploration. Steve ate pussy like a man starving, like he was trying to consume the very essence of you. His mouth sealed over you, his tongue laving a broad, desperate stripe from your entrance to your clit. You cried out, your hands flying to his hair, fingers tangling in the perfectly styled strands he’d let go messy just for you.
“Yes,” he moaned against you, the sound a wet, vibrating prayer. “Oh, fuck, yes. Taste so good. So fucking good.” His tongue speared inside you, then curled, then focused on your clit with a relentless, worshipful pressure.
He was whimpering constantly, a continuous stream of broken, pleasured sounds that he muffled against your flesh. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open, his thumbs digging in possessively. He was lost in it, consumed by the act of pleasuring you.
“So sweet,” he gasped, coming up for air for a second, his chin glistening. He was panting, his lips swollen, his eyes wild. “Taste like heaven. My heaven.” He dove back down before you could respond, his tongue circling your clit with frantic precision.
His praises were a slurred, hot litany against your skin. “Pretty girl… my pretty girl… making such pretty sounds for me… love this pussy, love it so much… gonna eat it forever… gonna make you come so hard…”
His obsession was a tangible force. Every lick, every suck, was infused with a desperate need to prove his devotion, to brand himself into your senses. He fucked you with his tongue, deep and slow, then fluttered it over your clit until you were sobbing, your back arching off the chair.
“That’s it, baby, that’s it,” he coaxed, his voice wrecked. “Come for me. Come in my mouth. Wanna taste it. Need it.”
The combination of his skilled, frantic mouth and his utterly unhinged, worshipful whimpers pushed you over the edge. You shattered with a sharp cry, your hips bucking against his face. He held you down, drinking you in greedily, swallowing every pulse and shudder, his own groans of satisfaction vibrating through you.
Even as your climax subsided into tremors, he didn’t stop. He gentled his movements, lapping at you softly, cleaning you with tiny, kittenish licks, as if savoring the last drops of a precious meal. He was still whimpering, soft little “mmh” sounds of pure contentment.
Finally, he rested his forehead against your trembling thigh, breathing heavily. He turned his head and pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your skin.
“Perfect,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse. “You’re so perfect.” He looked up at you, his eyes hazy with satisfaction and lingering obsession. A slow, dazed smile spread across his face. “Best part of my day. Every day.”
He shifted then, crawling up your body without ever fully disconnecting, settling his weight over you in the armchair, nuzzling into your neck. He was hard, painfully so, pressed against your hip, but he made no move to seek his own release. For now, he was sated just by yours. He’d told you once, in a rare, quiet moment, that getting you off felt better than coming himself. You were starting to believe him.
“Love you,” he whispered into your skin, a simple statement of fact as fundamental as his need to breathe. “So much it fucking hurts sometimes.”
Outside, the sun dipped lower. Your forgotten book lay on the floor. And Steve Harrington, the boy who had everything and now wanted only you, held you in the fading light, completely and utterly consumed.
molly, she/her, 18+ @spencestyles - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
