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wlwloverwrites · 4 months

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rushed anal w nat 🥴

Warnings: semi-public sex, anal, strap-on, light choking, smut (18+)

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Hand in hand, you follow as Natasha leads the way to the bathroom. She pushes through the sweaty bodies and dodges potential spills from the reds cups dancing along others. Your eyes land on her swaying hips, taking in the outfit you pick out for her. Dark black jeans, strapless top — in which took some convincing which resulted in a sore jaw — and the leather jacket Natasha insisted she’d wear so she could offer it to you the second you stepped outside and complained it’s too cold.

The music is blasting, almost echoing down the halls. Colorful lights fill the room, reflecting off the disco balls hanging from the ceiling while the music vibrates off the walls. After walking down the mile long hallway, Natasha pulls you into an empty bathroom. The bathroom is big enough to pass as a bedroom, but you stopped questioning Tony’s money spending habits.

Nothing to worry about, at least not when Natasha’s lips find yours.

The kiss is messy and wet. Her tongue pushes past your lips and finds its way in your mouth. Her surprisingly warm hands find your neck, fingers dig into the back of your neck as her thumb strokes your cheek. Pulling away she spins youso you’re facing the mirror. Your hands hold your weight as she pushes her body against your backside. Her arms trap you between the counter and her body. That’s when you feel it.

This wasn’t going to be your average bathroom fuck.

Natasha wanted to play.

“Here?”

“What better way to end the year, baby?”

Her words light a fire in you and who are you to complain? Natasha’s hand finds its home between your thighs, pulling aside your red lace panties and slipping through your already soaked folds. She is quick to bury two fingers inside you and even quicker to curl them. You swear your knees are going to give out.

“Natty, I have-” You cut yourself off with a whiney moan.

“What is it baby?” She smirks, cooled and composed.

“I have a surprise for you.”

Natasha hums in your ear and smiles when you push yourself against her hips. At this point it’s just muscle memory. Your hands find the end of your dress, they don’t have to stretch given this black mini short had to be the shortest dress you’ve wore all year. You hike up the dress over your hips, giving Natasha view of the red lace she currently felt rubbing against the back of her hand with each thrust.

“You’re so beautiful. I could just worship you.”

“That’s not the surprise, silly.”

Natasha raise her eyebrows, even more so when you pull her hand out from your panties. Making eye contact through the mirror, you bring her dripping fingers to your lips and suck. Your eyes almost flutter close when you hear Natasha groan behind you.

“Take them off and have a look.”

Confused, but determined Natasha does exactly what you say, only after you’ve spread your legs open and bent over the sink counter. Natasha’s fingers hook onto your thong and tug them down. Just as you expected you hear a breathy curse in her native tongue. Her hands grab a handful of your ass as she groans. A red jewel sitting above your glistening pussy is staring back at her green eyes.

“Fuck me, Natty.” Working your muscles to push the thick plug out as much as you can before your muscles give out and it slips back in its place inside you. “In my ass.”

The plug was a gag joke Wanda had gifted you. Its size of it made you clench when you first unwrapped it, but you knew you had to work up to its size and that’s exactly what you did and how you found yourself begging to be fucked in the ass on new year’s eve, 10 mins til midnight.

“Alright, baby. I’ll fuck you.”

She works quickly but carefully, turning your head so your lips could meet. It’s an awkward angle with a slight strain in your neck but it’s worth it. One hand between your legs rubbing your clit as the other works on pulling the plug til your muscles stretch on its widest part then pushing it back in.

How you’re still standing should be someone’s PhD thesis.

It’s all a blur, one second your letting out moans as she curls her fingers inside you once more and the other you feel her pushing in the tip of strap she had been hiding from you all night.

“Relax baby. Almost there.”

Groaning when her hips are finally pressed against yours. The stretch is delicious and has you seeing stars. You had been craving this.

The redhead whispers sweet things in your ear, but they hardly stick. Your brain is working overtime just try not to come while you try your best to welcome the stretch of your ass. Her fingers never leave your clit and it makes it hard to stay quiet. Almost like you’re playing a game on whether you can be louder the music playing outside.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“I needd to usee the bathroom, pleasuh.” A slurred voiced says behind the bathroom door.

You gasp loudly, but Natasha’s hand covers your mouth.

“Come baby you don’t want them to hear you, do you?”

Her thrusts become quicker as the pressure in your lower belly gets harder and harder to ignore. Your hands are pressed against the mirror and that’s when you see her.

“You’re so fucking perfect.”

Another knock.

“My dream girl.”

Her pushes you to your limit and before you know it there’s a loud countdown.

“Five!”

Her fingers find themselves curled inside you once more. The feeling of both your holes being filled has you weak.

“Four!”

Another finger added and her hips speed up.

“Three.”

The hand covering your mouth travels south and wraps around your throat.

“Two!”

A small squeeze with a whisper of ‘I love you’.

“One!”

You come as your legs shake and fingers drag against the once spotless mirror. You feel yourself leak onto the fingers still curling inside you. Whining when your ass feels a bit sore when Natasha pulls out.

“Happy new year, baby.”

You barely process anything. Natasha however is quick to recover as she washes her hands, pulls your dress down and stuffs your panties in her back pocket. Her hands wrap around your waist and tug you upright. You hum in response as you let her walk you out of the bathroom. Your ears are met with even louder music and happy cheers from everyone. There’s confetti in the air and fireworks in the sky.

“Happy new year, Natty.”

This was supposed to be short, and posted before new years, but it came out a little longer than expected. Happy New Year! Don’t forget to reblog and comment, let me know what you think!

#HAPPY NEW YEAR #here is to 2024 #hopefully its a year filled with more writing lol #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader smut #black widow #black widow smut #char: natasha romanoff #type: smut #lover hours #wlwloverwrites #wlwloversfics

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

When Lucas Sinclair starts to apologise for missing The Cult of Vecna, Eddie initially thinks that he’s hearing things.

Well, actually, the first thing he thinks is something along the lines of ‘what the fuck are you talking about?’

It takes him almost a solid thirty seconds to even vaguely remember his campaign; the last day of school before Spring Break feels dreamlike, as if it happened to someone else, as if he just watched everything through a fogged-up window.

“Jesus, Sinclair. I’ve got an ongoing list of folks who owe me an apology since, like, sixth grade, and trust me, your name’s not on there. Can pretty confidently say it never will, okay?”

Eddie sees Steve tilt his head ever so slightly from where he’s walking just ahead of them, like he’s listening in. Spots his faint nod of approval.

Eddie can’t decide if he resents it or finds it endearing—kind of gets the ridiculous feeling that Steve’s vetting him on behalf of the kids.

“Okay,” Lucas says, and he’s smiling, but there’s a sort of sombreness to it, too. “Still, I should’ve—”

“Hey, hindsight’s twenty-twenty,” Eddie says, firmly cutting off whatever self-critical bullshit he was about to hear. He knocks his shoulder against Lucas’s, adds a dry, “Like, I would’ve been a dick about it no matter what.”

Lucas laughs, but it’s muted. Then he takes a deep breath, and Eddie suddenly realises that he must’ve been using the apology to get himself started, to work himself up to what he really wanted to say.

“I’m… I’m sorry about… about Jason and… I thought I’d thrown them all off the trail, but—”

“Oh, don’t—don’t worry about it, man,” Eddie says faintly.

There’s a flash of Jason in his mind’s eye, the savage twist of his lip as he ran into the lake; he thinks of Lucas lying to his face, the danger of him being found out, and feels sick.

“Seriously, you could’ve told them… y’know. Wouldn’t have held it against you.”

Eddie doesn’t mention that him getting caught still feels inevitable, like he’s just waiting for the walls to close in.

But right now, at least, he can breathe a little easier. The shire might be burning, but there’s people leading him through it. He’s not alone.

Lucas looks appalled. “What? No, I couldn’t—I couldn’t do that to you.”

It’s said with such conviction that Eddie has to fight through a sudden tightness in his throat—doesn’t really know what to do in the face of such undeserved loyalty.

He settles on saying, “So, how was the game?” which is embarrassingly inadequate, but a genuine question nevertheless; the past few… Jesus, however long it’s been, he’s been in permanent need of a distraction.

Steve slows his walking pace—to anyone else it might’ve seemed subtle, but Eddie’s used to noticing such things. He somehow gets the feeling that Steve is no longer scrutinising him, not exactly; his posture’s relaxed and open, his forehead free of frown lines.

It’s more like he’s simply curious about Eddie’s behaviour. The way his eyes drift over, then down to the forest floor, then back again silently seems to say what are you thinking?

Or maybe Eddie’s projecting because he asks the very same question whenever a muscle jumps in Steve’s jaw.

“Oh, um…” Lucas says hesitantly. “I was on the bench for most of it, so—”

“Quit being modest.” The quiet whir of a tape being rewound; Max Mayfield comes up to Lucas’s side. “He made the winning shot,” she tells Eddie pointedly. “It was a buzzer-beater.”

“Oh, holy shit. Well done, dude.”

From the way Lucas is staring at Max with wide eyes, it’s obvious that he’s barely registered what Eddie’s said.

“How do you know that?” he asks. “You… you weren’t at the game.”

“I, uh.” Max looks down for a moment, fiddling with the headphones around her neck. “I listened to it on the radio.”

Lucas smiles so brightly. There’s an earnestness to him; Eddie spotted it a mile away, ever since that first day back at school, when all the new freshmen were anxiously lining up to get lunch.

Max softens—her arms are still folded, but she drifts a little closer to Lucas as they walk, all studied casualness.

(Oh, Eddie’s been there before: forced to run track in middle school Phys Ed, and the only saving grace was ‘just so happening’ to run at the same pace as any boy who’d smile at him.)

Eddie catches Steve’s eye, and this time Steve gives him a very deliberate expression, nodding fondly at Max and Lucas.

Look at them, he’s saying with his eyes, as if he and Eddie are on the same team, as if Eddie at all deserves to be let in on whatever shared history Steve has with these kids.

Eddie kicks at a stray twig. You’re not going to get a lump in your throat about this, damn it, don’t be stupid.

“S’gonna be historic, Sinclair,” he says. “Last time the Tigers won a championship was, uh, lemme think… twenty-two years ago.”

Lucas stops in his tracks.

“I know that,” he says, eyes shrewd, “but why do you know?”

Eddie raises his hands with a grin, it wasn’t me, officer. “What, I can’t repeat a few years without retaining a little school knowledge?”

“Oh,” Lucas says, and it’s like Eddie can see him mentally replaying every cafeteria speech. He grins back. “So you’re a hypocrite.”

“Maybe,” Eddie says. He glances further afield, where Dustin is animatedly explaining something to Robin and Nancy. “I know you’re not gonna give me shit for it, though.”

“Huh, guess you don’t really know me,” Lucas says, and Max snorts.

Eddie smirks. “And it’s, like, doubly historic since the last person to score a buzzer-beater was—”

He cuts himself off, because Steve abruptly turns to him, like they’re in alliance, and draws a hand sharply across his neck.

But Lucas is already hooked. “What? Who was it?”

Eddie gives Steve a helpless shrug. Sorry, man.

“I’m looking right at him,” he says.

Lucas rounds on Steve. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because,” Steve says, flustered, “that was your thing, Lucas, I didn’t wanna be all…”

He trails off with a vague hand gesture, and Eddie thinks he somehow gets what he means—smiles at the thoughtfulness of it.

“That makes, like, no sense,” Lucas says vehemently. His eyes practically have stars in them. “Damn it, we shoulda got a photo.”

Steve laughs in surprise. “All right, noted.”

“I mean, Wheeler works for the school paper, right?” Eddie says. “They’ve probably got old issues. Hey, Sinclair, you could have, y’know, side-by-side photos. Yours and then…” He waves a hand at Steve. “Ancient history.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Ancient, sure.”

“Oh, Lucas,” Max says, batting her eyes excessively, “I’d frame a picture of you. Pray to it every night.”

Lucas blushes. “Shut up,” he says, elbowing her gently; Eddie thinks that it’s the first time he’s heard Max Mayfield laugh.

Steve’s watching over them again, and his eyes go pensive when Lucas mumbles something like, “I wouldn’t mind a frame.”

The expression Steve has is something Eddie’s only seen once before, and it was on Wayne’s face. Eddie had privately dubbed it the ‘found something for your birthday’ look when he’d noticed it: him and Wayne on a road trip, Eddie not so secretly mooning over the secondhand acoustic guitar in the shop window.

“Your picture should be bigger, Sinclair,” Steve says, sounding both teasing and sincere. “My shot didn’t win a Championship Game.” In an undertone, he adds, “As Brenda so helpfully reminded me.”

Oh, Eddie’s not letting that go.

“Do mine ears deceive me? Did you take a date to a high school basketball game?” Eddie cackles. “You sure know how to woo ‘em, Harrington.”

“Hey,” Steve says defensively, “she could only make that day. Told her I had non-negotiable plans: it was either the game or it was a bust.”

Huh, Eddie thinks, that’s actually… really sweet.

Lucas looks torn between being embarrassed or touched. “You didn’t need to do that, Steve.”

“Sure I did. C’mon, you thought I was gonna go to every match and then miss the Championship?” Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “Where was Erica, anyway?”

… Ah.

“Mea culpa,” Eddie says. “She was, uh, at Hellfire.”

Lucas scoffs. “It’s fine,” he says. “Last time she was at a game, she kept shouting that she loved my tactics.” He looks out into the middle distance. “I was on the bench the whole time.”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah, I missed her being there.” He’s sporting a smile that’s somehow the perfect balance of fond and mischievous; it, quite frankly, has no business looking as attractive as it does. “We had, um, alternative commentary for every game. That kid should have a radio show.” He comes closer, adds in another aside, “Would’ve made the date more bearable if she was there.”

Eddie stifles a laugh, has a moment of respectful silence for Brenda.

Max and Lucas cut in front, keep walking until they’re almost out of earshot; Eddie hears Lucas faintly say something that sounds like, “Was I totally tubular?”, soon drowned out by Max’s laughter.

There’s a short silence.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve says suddenly.

Eddie blinks at him, quickly turns his genuine confusion into a bit. “What for, Harrington? My devastating wit? Devilish good looks?”

Steve shakes his head. He smiles for a moment, in on the joke, but then he looks over at Lucas and Max again, and… there.

A muscle jumps in his jaw.

“It’s just… they’ve got a lot to carry, y’know? So…” He shrugs. “Thanks.”

It’s said so quietly, so without fanfare.

Eddie’s hit with the realisation between one footstep and the next: that he’s earned Steve Harrington’s trust.

It feels… weighty.

But Eddie doesn’t mind it; he doesn’t think it’s going to crush his ribs. If anything it feels like they’re sharing a load.

“Don’t gotta thank me for that, Harrington.”

Steve smiles, pushing back his hair; Eddie’s brought back to the moment he did the very same on the basketball court, just as the ball sunk through the net, and Eddie decided fuck it, wholeheartedly embracing his hypocrisy as he jumped up and down with the band kids.

I cheered so goddamn loud for you, Eddie thinks.

He doesn’t say it.

But he keeps walking next to Steve. Feels a little young, a little bit like he’s running track—checking his pace just so he could see a boy smile at him.

#skull rock to lover’s lake missing scenes are becoming my new fave (of which i have many faves ❤️)#eddie and lucas #pre steddie #steve and lucas #steve and max #eddie and max #lumax #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #lucas and erica #steve and erica #eddie munson #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #steve harrington #steve x eddie #lucas x max

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