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lovebugism · 1 year

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hiii idk if you’re still taking requests but can you do something smutty with steve in season 3 w his scoops ahoy uniform on after he gets home from work or something🙏🏼🙏🏼

like sub!babygirl!steve is so 🤤🤤😽😽 and a

dom!femreader 🫶❤️❤️ AND OMG HE HAS A MOMMY KINK😧😧 I BEG OF YOU

✶ ┄ OH, BABY !

summary: after a long day at work, steve harrington needs someone (*cough cough* you) to take care of him. pairing: sub!steve harrington / f!reader word count: 5.6k warnings: sub!steve, brief use of a mommy kink, r calls steve daddy like twice i think, mention of a breeding kink, 18+ mdni (ignore any typos, i am way too tired to proofread <3) a/n: hi, it's me again, turning a blurb request into a full length fic. also i can't stop writing for sub steve apparently. all i can say is baby girl is baby girlin real hard in this one lol thanks so much for your request! enjoy xoxo

( BLURB SLEEPOVER ) | ( MASTERLIST )

It’s sunset by the time his shift at Scoops concludes. He serves the last few remaining customers while Robin less than kindly ushers out the loitering teenagers that have stuck around all day.

A group of moms clad in vividly colored spandex tells him “we’re being bad today” like some sort of mantra that makes them feel better about ordering plain vanilla ice cream. Some middle school aged girls with a mouthful of braces, crimped hair in pigtails, and absolutely wreaking of fruity perfume and daddy’s money try helplessly to flirt with him while they use a matte black card to purchase a banana boat sundae.

His last customers of the night are an old married couple, all gray and wrinkly and smiling like life’s still so new to them. They order one strawberry cone to share between them and hold onto each other’s shaking, frail hands as they make their exit.

Steve smiles as he watches them go. He sees a lot of you and him in them. He hopes by the time you both are all old and brittle, you’ll still be happy like that, still so in love.

Working in the downstairs abyss of Starcourt makes him feel crazy sometimes. With no windows and only manufactured fluorescent lighting for ten hours straight, it makes time feel less and less real.

Sometimes he’ll be in before sun out and cower like some sort of vampire when his shift is over. Other times, he’ll come out when it’s pouring down rain and be absolutely baffled at the sight of it because it was perfectly sunny when his shift started.

Everything else but ice cream all but ceases to exist in the hole of Scoops Ahoy — weather, time, life.

Even though it’s closing when he leaves, Steve doesn’t realize how dark it’s gotten outside until he’s walking through the desolate parking lot to his car. The bustling mall has fallen asleep with the rest of the town. The sky has long turned to a navy velvet, the stars and full moon bright white silk.

It makes his limbs heavy and his eyelids heavier as his tired bones ache for rest.

Steve makes the longer drive out to the cabin rather than his own home to see you. Hopper’s out for some conference which means El gets to spend every ounce of her time at the Wheeler’s and you and Steve get to play house.

He doesn’t bother to knock before he comes in. He shuffles through the entrance like his feet are made of lead and leans his weight against the door after he clicks it closed.

The sound of his arrival gets your attention from where you scurry around the kitchen. A smile pulls slowly at your face as you turn over your shoulder to look at him, placing a cover over a pot of something that smells like your infamous chicken alfredo.

“Hey, Stevie,” you greet with a beam and a sort of sunshine in your voice that Steve’s been missing all day.

His body relaxes for the first time since he got up this morning at the sight of you, freshly showered and in your pajamas for the night — an oversized t-shirt that definitely didn’t belong to you before, because it used to be his.

You look more like home than any four walls could ever be to him.

Steve tries his best to give you a smile in return, but it’s weighed down by fatigue and not all there.

You can see it all over him, every ounce of exhaustion on his lax and tired features. Slinging ice cream for less than grateful customers for ten hours straight has taken an obvious toll on him. The bright blue sailor’s uniform makes him look more boyish, but no less tired — or hot.

Your heart swells at how cozy he looks, fatigued and warmed and in dire need of being taken care of. It makes you glad that you started dinner earlier than normal, even happier that you’ve got the house to yourselves.

You exit the kitchen and walk the short distance to him, taking his scruffy cheeks in your palms and rubbing your thumbs against his cheeks.

“Hard day?” you wonder softly and smile to himself when you feel Steve nestle further into your touch.

The boy hums lowly in reply — neither a yes or a no, but a short hmph that means he doesn’t want to talk about it now. He doesn’t like thinking about work when you’re in his arms and all over him. He’d rather pretend like you’re the only thing that exists and let the rest of the world slip slowly away.

He turns his face to kiss the inside of your wrists. You smell like lavender, he finds, and it makes him that much more tired and needy for you.

His hands settle on your arms, fingers wrapping themselves just below your wrists. “Just tired,” he answers finally. “How was your day?”

“Better than yours, I’m assuming,” you quip with a smile. Your hands drag from his face, down the tense columns of his neck, and settle at the white lapel of his uniform. Steve lets you pull him down by his red neckerchief until his lips press against yours, the pillows of them far cozier than the bed and blanket he so craves right now.

He grows somehow heavier against you. He exhales deeply through his nose as his aching muscles start to relax, the warmth of it brushes against your cupid’s bow. His hands fall to your back and ball into your shirt as he clutches so ardently onto you, as though terrified he might have to go another agonizing ten hours without you.

Your smile contorts against his mouth. A laugh exhales sharply through your nose at this tired boy, exhausted and too willing to let you swallow him whole.

As much as you want to take care of you him, you want him to get a little food in his belly and fresh clothes on his skin.

He’s got freshly laundered cottons sitting in a drawer you cleaned out in your room especially for him and a pot of his favorite food simmering on the stove. He’ll be golden in an hour or more and you’ll happily take care of him then.

Steve whines when you pull away from him. The pathetic sound bubbles from his throat and his face screws up like you’ve actually pained him by not kissing him more. He ducks down, looming over you, as his lips chase yours.

You giggle at him, letting him kiss you — one, two, three quick pecks and a fourth sweeter, more drawn-out one he presses against you as the two of you stumble back into the living room.

“You need to eat first, okay?” you protest when you part from him again, lips clicking wetly as they separate. “You probably haven’t had anything all day.”

“I had half a banana in the break room at lunch,” he retorts, half-heartedly.

“Exactly,” you scold. “Go get changed and then we can eat, ‘kay?”

“If you wanted to see me naked so bad, you could’ve just said.”

You roll your eyes at him and how he’s still so sly despite being so damn tired. You push playfully against his chest and squirm out from under where he’d cornered you between his body and the back of the couch. “You smell like a sundae and cheap cologne—”

“Blame those assholes from Abercrombie.”

“—hit the showers, Harrington,” you tell him with a playful sternness, swatting him on the ass as you pass by him.

The action stopped surprising him a long time ago. He’d complained relentlessly about corporate and the stupid outfit they made him wear to work every morning until he realized how much you liked it.

After that, Steve figured he could put up with the itching and the chaffing and the weird stares from other mall-goers. As long as it meant you being unable to keep your hands off of him, dropping to your knees in front of him before he left for work, visiting him at lunch because you just had to see him again.

“You comin’ too, or…?” he jokes in reply, already inching towards the bathroom, but secretly hoping you’ll say yes.

You refuse to amuse him, though, and instead tell him that you have to keep stirring the pasta so it won’t burn. He’s too tired and too excited to wash all the muck of the long workday from his body to beg.

You knew just what he needed — like you always do. He’s as good as gold by the time he gets out of the shower, smelling of your shampoo and practically glittering at how good he feels.

His skin gets to breathe for the first time all day when he slips on a pair of boxers and a faded forest green Hawkins High sweatshirt. They’re freshly washed. He can tell by how soft they feel and the way they smell of fresh detergent.

It makes his heart swell.

While he’s been slinging ice cream and questioning all of his life choices, you’ve been washing his clothes, folding them and putting the in their own drawer in your dresser. You’ve been cooking him his favorite dinner, knowing he hasn’t eaten all day, because you know everything about him.

You do it all because you love him. You don’t have to think twice about it before you so effortlessly take care of him.

He swears you’ll feed him if he begs hard enough, but Steve hasn’t reached that level of tiredness yet. He does, however, force you to sit halfway in his lap while the both of you opt to eat on the couch in the living room rather than the kitchen table.

A repeat of Miami Vice plays on the tiny television across the room and you tell him about what you’d done on your day off in between shoveling forkfuls of pasta into your mouth with your legs slung into his lap.

Most of it was spent taking care of chores, a feat made harder without Hopper and El to take on the extra workloads but easier because their absence meant less shit to get done.

You drove Dustin and Lucas to the Wheeler’s house later that morning, then doubled back across Hawkins when Max called and all but begged you to free her from the hellscape on Cherry Lane, as she so lovingly put it. You picked her up and dropped her off with the rest of her friends.

And even though they all swore they had rides back home, they’d called again some hours later and asked too sweetly if you could take them back across town.

You complain and grumble about it, but you do it for them anyway.

Because you take care of people. That’s just what you do.

“So you were a personal chauffeur for a bunch of kids all day?” Steve jokes and laughs to himself as he swipes a smudge of alfredo sauce from your chin with his thumb

“Basically,” you nod in reply.

When that’s all done — and the episode is over and the dishes are in the sink and your teeth are freshly brushed — you tell Steve to get into bed, and then to get his head out of the gutter at the look he gives you after.

He’s pleasantly surprised when you bring a whole basket of things from the bathroom and into your bedroom. He watches silently, obediently, as you light a candle on the far side of the room before climbing into bed beside him.

“Scoot down a little,” you tell him. “And take off your shirt.”

He does it all without question. He rises, strips himself of his top, and tosses the thing mindlessly on the floor beside the bed. With his lean torso and bare chest on display, spotted with tufts of chestnut-colored hair and smelling of your body wash, he lazes back onto the bed again with his head on the pillows.

Steve holds his breathe when you straddle his chest.

“Comfy?” you ask him quietly.

He can only nod in response.

His eyes are wide, twinkling with love and curiosity. It makes you smile. He’s always so soft in his way, so compliant with you — and, fuck, if you don’t love how he looks when he’s underneath you.

You lean down to press a chaste kiss to the chiseled tip of his nose then reach for one of the many bottles stacked inside the wicker basket. You drip the rose-scented liquid onto a cottonpad and tell him that it’s cleanser.

“I thought I was already clean?” he retorts.

“Well, this shit is gonna make ya glow like a baby, Harrington,” you tell him and swipe the stuff up and down his face — across his forehead, along his nose, and around his stubbly jaw. “Which means it’s perfect for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you’re a baby,” you quip once, then smile lovingly down at him. “My baby,” you correct.

“Damn straight,” he hums with a soft smile, then shuts his eyes when you trade the cleanser for what you call a liquid exfoliator. He doesn’t ask what that means. He doesn’t say much of anything really, because he’s enamored with the way you dote on him.

Your day has been just as busy as his, maybe not as mind-numbing, but still busy. You’ve been bouncing all across town, trying to make sure a bunch of kids weren’t putting themselves in total danger — Steve knows firsthand how hard that can be.

And yet, you keep caring for him, like it’s more important than how tired you must be.

The way you’ve settled on top of him is just a bonus. It’s not as domineering as you usually are in this position, straddling your legs over him and forcing his face between your legs with your fingers tangled in his hair. He wouldn’t have minded if that’s what you’d done in the first place. He would’ve thanked you for it, really.

It’s comforting more than it is anything, the subtle weight of you on top of him, keeping him grounded.

You rub something that feels like lotion into his skin. The tips of your fingers massage his face — they dig softly into his temples, relieving all the strain there, then trace around his curve of his jaw. Steve sighs and melts into your touch. It makes you laugh.

“Look at you,” you giggle, all soft like the moonlight streaming in rays from the windows. Then you tease him. “My baby’s gettin’ all pampered tonight, huh?”

“That stuff smells really good,” he notes. “Think it’s safe enough to taste?”

You know he’s joking, but you flick him in the center of his freshly moisturized forehead anyway, when his tongue darts out the side of his mouth to lick around his lips.

“You’re such an idiot,” you scold with a laugh. “There’s no way we’re gonna be able to have a kid if you keep acting like one, Steve Harrington.”

The boy's eyes fly open. “…A kid?” he repeats in something short of a whisper.

You only hum in reply with a little shrug like you’re trying to play it all off. Like you didn’t just drop the biggest bomb on him and left him to pick up the pieces. Like it isn't the sweetest goddamn thing he’s ever heard in his life (even though you are sort of making fun of him).

“You want a kid with me?” he presses, eyes sparkling and full of hope.

“‘Course I do,” you shrug again, focusing on capping the moisturizer and putting it away rather than meeting his intense gaze. “Want anything and everything with you, Stevie.”

The boy doesn’t bother to hide the grin your words put on his face. He’s all but beaming from where he lays beneath you, trying to make sure he’s still breathing because his heart has started to flutter something fierce.

It was something the two of you only ever talked about in passing — usually him bringing up the idea of having kids and you swatting them all down.

“We’re too young,” you tell him. “We’re too broke”, “we’re too dumb.” The occasional “my dad is literally in the next room, he’ll kill you if he hears you talking like that” shuts him up real quick.

But here you are now, telling him you want a baby with him, that you want everything with him. It drives him absolutely insane.

“Yeah?” he hums in response, idle hands rising and settling upon your bare thighs, rubbing at the smooth skin there, petting you almost. The room gets suddenly and unbearably hot with the look he gives you, innocent and knowing and hungry.

You feel him shift from underneath you, the hardening cock in his boxers making it hard to stay as comfortable as he had been.

“You wanna be a mommy, honey?” he all but coos. “Wanna take care of our kids like you take care of me?”

Though his words set a fire in the pit of your stomach, the tone of them makes you roll your eyes. It’s like flipping a light switch when it comes to Steve. It takes next to nothing to turn him into a puddle of mush.

He’s always raring to go when it comes to you, and you’d be lying if you said it was totally invigorating.

“What happened to my sweet, sleepy, baby Stevie, huh?” you tease, hands leaving his face to caress the ones he’s got resting on your thighs. “Thought you were too tired?”

He shakes his head defiantly. “Never too tired for you.”

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you scold with bubbly laughter when you feel his large hands trail up your legs. His finger falls beneath your shirt, the tips of them sneaking into the rounded hems of your underwear, all but cupping your ass to drag you further up his chest.

He’s practically salivating at the mere thought of tasting you. Of knowing that the only thing separating you from him is a couple of inches and the thin fabric of your underwear.

He knows that when he slides them to the side, you’ll be wet and needing him underneath, slick enough for his tongue to slip right in.

And, truth be told, oral sex wasn’t the easiest when you weren’t alone. It was too precarious of a position. If Hopper knocked on the door and barged in hardly a moment later, you needed to break away quickly.

So when your dad and little sister were home, it was easier to use your hands to get each other off. And, maybe, if Steve was real good, you’d let him fuck you.

But his mouth on you? There wasn’t enough good he could be for you to let him do that, not when your father was on the other side of the door in the living room. Because you’re pretty sure death would be easier than your dad catching Steve Harrington giving cunnilingus to his daughter. You’re pretty sure you’d die on the spot, anyway.

But Hopper is miles away. Your sister is on the other side of town. And you’re alone with your boyfriend, hidden away in a cabin in the middle of the woods. It’s the perfect recipe for the best sex of your life.

“Don’t care,” Steve murmurs, pressing kisses to the inner parts of your thigh when he settles you more intently over his shoulders. “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Yeah?” you croon. From below you, the boy notes the arched brow and knowing glint in your eye that usually means trouble. “Daddy wants to make mommy feel good, huh?”

Steve knows exactly why you said it. Why you chose to say it like that. It’s the same reason you brought up the kid thing in the first place. Because you knew it would drive him crazy.

And it’s not like you ever had to try to make him mental, all you really had to do was walk into a room and he was done for. But you didn’t just want to just make him go insane, you wanted to ruin him.

And you know you’ve done just that when a groan spills from his mouth and two strong hands dig rather ruthlessly into your hips. He pulls you down without warning, pressing your clothed pussy closer to his face and dragging his nose between your covered lips. A moan leaves your mouth in a heavy exhale when the tip of it nudges your clit.

“Like being called daddy, huh?” you tease through bated breaths.

Steve nods in reply as he hooks a finger through the hem of your panties and slides them to the side, putting your pretty, glistening pussy on display for him.

He was right about what he said before — you were soaked.

All but drunk on the sight of you, he presses open-mouthed kisses to your inner thigh. “Like the other thing, too,” he mumbles against your skin, like he’s hiding himself there.

“The other thing?” you question with pinched brows. The confusion ebbs like a rolling tide as you realize: “Oh. You wanna call me mommy, Stevie?” you ask with a joking lilt.

“Shut up,” he groans against you.

He’s pleasantly surprised when your hand grabs the strands of his hair like reigns, pulling him back just before he puts his mouth on your pussy. He’s even more stunned at the stern expression taking over your features, not nearly as playful as you’d been moments before.

Suddenly you’re ten feet tall, and he’s nothing more than an ant, at the mercy of your boot.

“That’s no way to talk to your mommy, is it, Stevie?”

He shakes his head with glazed over eyes. “Sorry.”

“Sorry… what?”

There is an underlying tone in your voice, something teasing and yet somehow serious all at once. It’d make him roll his eyes if he weren’t lying beneath you like this. Now, with your pussy mere inches from his face, he isn’t quite sure how to be anything but obedient.

“Sorry, mommy,” he corrects.

A flip switches and you’re smiling again. “Good boy,” you praise and it makes his cock twitch in the confines of his boxers. Your hand guides him to your pussy again.

Steve’s always been good at oral. A little too good, actually. It made you jealous sometimes, to know that his technique has been perfected over years of experience.

“All the other girls were just practice for you, honey,” he’d soothe your seething rage with a wink and a tongue shoved deep into your cunt.

You believe him now, that every other girl was just an obstacle for him to get to you, because no one’s had him like this. No one will ever have him like this.

You’re the one who’s got him on his back with his mouth on your pussy. You’re the one who’s got him calling you mommy.

And it makes you feel like a fucking giant.

He wastes little time to envelope your cunt with his mouth. You feel the muffled grunt he lets out at the tangy and familiar taste of you. His tongue pushes into your cunt, licking you with the intent of devouring you entirely. His nose presses intently against your clit, prodding the little button as you ride his face. He encourages every thrust, guiding your hips up and down his mouth.

“Fuck, Stevie,” you whine and feel him smile drunkenly against your pussy, never ceasing his assault against your sensitive skin.

Your head falls back, suddenly too heavy to hold up. Your gaze settles on the ceiling, though you’re not exactly looking at it, and moans fall from your open mouth and into the heavy air — billowing laments in the moonlight.

“You make me feel so good,” you murmur to yourself, but to him especially, knowing he turns into a ticking time bomb when he’s praised. “Always make mommy feel so fucking good, baby.”

He groans against you, and it makes your hips twitch over his face.

Your head turns and your glazed over eyes fall on the hard cock trapped in his underwear. It’s more than apparent against the thin fabric with a wet patch of precum darkening the plaid cotton. The sight of it, paired with his lips wrapped around your clit, makes you moan most pitifully.

“Fuck, Steve,” you cry. “You’re gonna make me come. Holy shit, baby— gonna come so hard in your mouth.” The promise makes Steve double his efforts against you, wanting nothing more than to taste every drop you can give him. “I’ll ride you after, 'kay? Make you come so hard you can’t see straight. Fuck. I’m so fucking close.”

You figure his muffled whine is an affirmative.

“If you make me come now, maybe I’ll let you come inside me—”

You barely get to finish your sentence before Steve’s wrapping his arms around your thighs and keeping you pressed against his face. His tongue works overtime inside of your cunt, attentively flicking against every part of your velvet walls that it can reach, while his nose nudges your clit most relentlessly.

It has you reaching your climax within seconds, hips jerking against him while his hold on you tightens. Steve only lets you go when he’s certain you’ve ridden out every inch of your orgasm.

You’re shaking and half-numb when you unfold your body from his and settle next to him on the bed. You press yourself over him as your lips swallow his, tasting yourself on his mouth that glistens with you.

Your torso is splayed over his bare one, knees digging into the mattress at his side as you arch your back to push yourself further into him.

“Was that good for you?” he mutters after you’ve pulled away, sliding the tip of your nose up and down the bridge of his.

A laugh escapes you in a sharp scoff. If he couldn’t have felt how good it was for you — after you all but writhed against him — surely he must’ve tasted it dripping like honey from your cunt.

“It’s always good,” you assure him, then murmur more quietly, “Always so good for mommy.”

You keep the promise you’d made him no more than minutes beforehand. You pull down his boxers at the same time he’s trying to get you out of your shirt, and it’s just a mess of yearning limbs until the both of you are naked.

You rub yourself over his cock a few times, getting it all slick with you in the place of lube, because you know taking him is never an easy feat. The stretch of his dick inside you is always delicious but fuck if it doesn’t burn. It’s like fire in every sense of the word, hot and filthy paired with a distant ache.

Steve lets you set the pace as you get used to his length nestled deep inside your velvet. His hands rest compliantly on your hips as you grind against him, honeyed gaze fixed on your fucked out features as you take him — brows pinched, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

Then, when every inch of him is snug in your cunt and your senses return to you, you deny him of his want to touch you. Your fingers wrap around his wrists and push them into the pillow on either side of his head. “Mommy didn’t say you could touch her, did she?” you purr to him as you lean over him. He shakes his head obediently, if only it meant that you kept fucking yourself on top of him.

And you do. Most ardently.

You keep your bare chest pressed against his fuzzy one, nose-to-nose as you slide your hips over his. And even though he’s had you like this before (in this position and many others), it feels brand new every time. It’s like he’s never felt you before despite how familiar you feel.

It triggers his body into a sense of fight of flight, as though frightened he’ll never get to have you again. It leaves him fucking you like it’ll be the last time he’s inside you, every fucking time.

It never is, though — obviously. Most times he only has to wait a couple minutes or more before he gets to take you again.

But now, with his hands balled into fists beside his head and your’s braced on his chest, digging into the patch of hair there as you rock back and forth on his hard cock — the tip of it nestled deep inside of you and hitting every sweet spot that makes you keen — has left him an absolute wreck beneath you.

He’s chasing his pleasure like he’s never felt it before. Like he won’t feel it again.

“Your cock feels so good, Stevie,” you moan above him.

“‘M not gonna last long, baby,” he mutters between harsh and labored pants.

“’S okay… I want you to come,” you promise and press a too sweet kiss to his swollen, pink lips. You move your hips more intently over him. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills your bedroom. “Want you to fill me up.”

“Yeah?” he breathes out in something short of a whimper. His eyes are glassy and his brows are furrowed and it takes everything in him not to fuck up into you — because he wants to be good, he wants to be good for you.

“Yeah… Want you come in me… Fuck me until it takes,” you babble over top of him, knowing exactly what it’s doing to the whining boy beneath you. “Wanna give you a baby— fuck— I wanna make you a daddy, Stevie.”

A whine spills from his throat. His toes curl into the fabric of your comforter, eyes rolling back into his head, body tensing as he digs his fingers into the skin of his palms that still ache to touch you.

Your name spills from his mouth along with a string of curses and pretty little cries when he stuffs you full of his come.

You happily accept every load he shoots into you as work him through every aftershock of his orgasm. Yours doesn’t come so easy — you roll your hips over yourself and rub your clit until you’re twitching right along with him.

You come down from your highs together with a tender softness. You lay over him, one hand combing through his curls and the other stroking softly at his sweat-slicked bicep. You watch with heavy eyes as his orgasm rolls over him.

His chest rises and falls with every heavy breath, stuttering when another pang of pleasure hits him all of a sudden. “Fuck,” he whines harshly into the heavy air.

He’s happy you don’t deny him when his arms wrap around your waist, hands rubbing up and down the expanse of your slick back.

You press tiny kisses to his face as he comes down — his nose, his cheeks, his forehead his stubbly chin and jaw. You press one, two, three pecks to his lips before you slide off of him, then laugh when he whines.

You’re gone for hardly more than three minutes, but to Steve, it feels like an eternity’s gone by.

You return from the bathroom, wiped freshly clean, and blow out the nearly burnt-out candle on your dresser before you slither back into his side. One of his arms curls beneath your shoulders to pull you closer to him with his other rests on the back of yours that’s settled on his chest.

You share one pillow, noses inches away from one another’s, while you bask in the warm moment and the sex-coated air around you before you have to break it.

“You know I’m still on the pill, right?” you ask him.

He nods.

“And that we’re—”

“Way too young to have a kid right now?” he finishes for you, though the idea makes him sad. He nods.

“Yeah… And—”

“Too broke? I know that too.”

“Also my—”

“Your dad would kill me if I got you pregnant?”

It makes you laugh. You hadn’t realized you’d talked about having kids this many times — at least, not enough for him to memorize all the reasons why it’s not the best idea right now.

“Yeah, I know it’s not happening any time soon,” Steve says with a sigh. “I like to pretend, though. Plus, it’s not even about that to me, you know? I just… I just like being with you and… everything.”

Everything, you repeat to yourself. A word that means so much and nothing at all.

No one knows what everything means, they just know that it’s a lot, a whole lot. That’s what makes it so special. Steve wants it all with you — the overbearing dad, the sister with powers, the teenage kids who never let you have a single second to yourselves when they’re around.

It’s a lot sometimes, most times, but he’ll weather it all with you.

“You like being with me?” you echo just to see him nod.

He does. “I love being with you,” he corrects.

“Love calling me mommy, too, huh?”

He realizes then, the sincere moment was just a set-up for that stupid joke. He groans and flops his head back on the pillow, but makes no move to distance himself from you.

“Oh, my god,” he moans in annoyance. “Am I gonna have to deal with this the rest of my life?”

You nod. “Sorry, Harrington, but I’m never letting that shit go.”

Good, he thinks to himself, even though he pretends to hate it because it makes you laugh. He never wants you to stop.

#published by bug #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stevie oneshot #st oneshots

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drefear · 8 months

Text

Sister's Mister

Summary: Your sister meets Miguel O'Hara, a smart playboy that goes to your college and you so happen to have a crush on. When the two start to date, he begins to act weird towards you.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

TW: Drinking, insecurity, family, throw up.

“Where’s my curling iron?” Your sister screamed from the other room, stomping around with a clip in her hair and her dress half-tied. You lounged on your bed as she ran around, both living at home still as you were both still in college. She was 4 years older than you, currently getting her PHD in psychology as you were currently in your third year of your undergraduate. Your major was chemistry , wanting to experiment and become a scientist that worked with enhancement drugs.

You were 21, while your sister was 25, and you two were very close. Sometimes too close. Same taste in tv shows, shared clothing styles, and sometimes even men…

But your sister was going on lots of dates, while you were woefully single. The two of you differed there.

She was always out and about, jumping from man to man, while you stayed home and preferred to be alone.

The quiet of your bedroom was comforting, just your fingers typing your essay on your keyboard as the fan cooled you down in the middle of the summer. You were taking summer classes to get a head start in your fourth year, wanting to hurry it up and jump into a career.

“Did you borrow it?” She asked again and you sighed, closing your laptop and putting it on your bed. Getting up, you saw her rushing around and trying to tie the back of her dress.

“No, I hate curling my hair.” You folded your arms as you leaned on the doorframe and watched her bend down to clasp her heels.

“Come out with us tonight, I heard that super hot guy in your honors chem class is coming.” She wiggles her brows at you.

Laughing, you shook your head. “Gianna, I already told you, I have to finish this assignment.”

We both know you’re almost done with it, so hurry up and then get dressed. Gwen’s picking us up soon.” She threw a navy blue dress at you and you just nodded. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea.

It was a bad idea. You felt awkward in between all the sweaty, dancing bodies. You hated how close everyone was to you, practically on top of each other as the bass pounded into your ears. You sipped your gin and tonic, and found a seat at the bar, not wanting to constantly be bumped into by the group of other college kids in front of you.

Gianna danced with her friends, who took you under their wing and tried to get you to be social, but it didn’t work. You stayed at the bar and watched.

A hand on your shoulder made you turn and look into the chest of the man trying to get your attention.

“Hey, you’re Gianna’s little sister, right?”

Gianna’s little sister.

That’s how you were constantly referred to, living in the shadow of your cool, popular older sister. You never minded before, but for some reason, it bothered you to hear tonight.

“Yeah, she’s over there.” You pointed and looked back at his face.

“She was talking to my friend for a while, he’s around here somewhere. I’m Peter, this is Hobie.” He pointed to the guy behind him and you finally absorbed the two men.

Peter seemed like the normal straight white dude, light brown hair and a 10 o’clock shadow with the smell of axe body spray and a bright, wide smile. Hobie wore chains around his neck and a fishnet tank top with a black shirt underneath, wicks long and pointing in every direction. His piercings were shining in the club lights and the two couldn’t look any more different against each other.

And here you were, the dress a bit tight on your front your sister’s thin, model-like frame. You had more plush to your thighs and butt than she did, as well as a fuller bust. The spandex fabric held you tight as you bit your bottom lip, shaking both of their hands. Hobie kissed the top of yours and you flustered a bit, Peter laughing.

“My girlfriend is around here somewhere, and- oh, there’s Miguel.” He pointed and you watched as his eyes widened. “Oh boy…” You heard Peter chuckle as you turned to look at where he’d pointed and saw your sister in the arms of a big, muscular Greek god. You tilted your head and recognized him.

“Miguel… O’Hara?” You said out loud. She wasn’t just fucking a guy from you chem class, she was fucking the smartest guy in your whole fucking major.

“Yeah, you know him?” Peter asked and you just sighed, nodding. Unbeknownst to your dear sister, you’d had a massive crush on him since you saw him the first day, and now he had his mouth on her neck as they grinded against each other.

The oxygen left your lungs as you felt your confidence deflate. Of course it would be him, you thought to yourself quietly and stood up.

“Dance with me, girlie.” Hobie instructed and pulled you towards the swarm of gyrating people, not giving you much of a choice. You felt his hands fall on your hips as he guided you to the beat, watching your face as you blushed a bit from the close contact and effects of alcohol. “Relax, I got you.” He spoke and looked around, making eye contact with your sister as she smiled at something MIguel whispered in her ear. Your heart sank a little as you watched and Hobie smirked more, “You wanna make ‘em jealous, get closer to me.” Hobie whispered and you gulped, pressing against him as you saw your sister pulling Miguel towards you. You heard your name as you danced with the punk boy.

“You know Miguel, right? Don’t you two have a class together?” She asked, and you were about to answer, but you didn’t even get a word out as he spoke.

“Multiple, actually.” He nodded, eyes scanning up and down your body quickly, before smiling back to your sister. The two of them together looked like a famous couple, something you’d see in an ad for abercrombie. Wth his hand around her waist, you felt out of place, like you were interrupting even though they had approached you. Hobie’s hands slipped around you and you blinked back into the conversation. “Enough chatter, I’ve got a lady to seduce, yeah?” Hobie winked at your sister and pecked your cheek, making eye contact with Miguel. Wasn’t he Miguel's friend? Why would he want to make his friend jealous?

Your sister gave you a small thumbs up as Hobie pulled you away and continued to dance with you, watching Miguel stay focused on you over your shoulder.

“Why did you do that?” You asked and he smiled down at you.

“Cause ‘m bored, and Miguel needs a swift kick to the head. He’s blind if he can’t see that you’re the best lookin’ girl in the whole club.” Hobie’s words made you turn red and nod, “just have fun and forget him, he’s stupid.” He added and you leaned in closer, dancing with the rocker boy more.

You left the club without your sister after watching her practically suck Miguel’s face off in a booth at the club, assuming she’d be leaving with him. And you’d been right, after getting an assuring text from her in the morning saying ‘BEST SEX EVER.’

You couldn’t hate your life anymore than you did at that second.

Class went by as per usual, but instead of shamelessly gawking at the back of Miguel’s head, you tried to stay focused on anything but him. Which was working until you’d been dismissed and soon heard your name.

Ignoring him, you felt tension in your shoulders. The last thing you’d wanted was to deal with the awkwardness of him asking for your sister’s number or asking about her life, or if you could put in a good word for him, or anything at all basically. You wanted to be left alone.

Days later, you watched as your sister seemed to have more of a pep in her step, smiling at her phone all the time and seemingly wearing more perfume. She was definitely obsessed with him, but you also knew his reputation, and he was a player, a fuckboy. He slept with most of the sororities on campus and allegedly, even a few teachers. So when you opened your front door to see him holding a bouquet of flowers, wearing a dress shirt and smelling expensive, your jaw dropped.

“Miggy!” Your sister called from behind you and jumped into his arms. You watched him twirl her around and just sighed, walking away. This had nothing to do with you, you told yourself, and moved into the kitchen to help your parents finish setting up the dining room table.

“I didn’t know we were having Gianna’s new boyfriend over.” You glanced up to your mom, who just nodded. “Is this the official meet the parents night?”

“Well, they’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks now, so we thought we should meet him.” Your dad added and you dreaded the world.

The whole dinner felt as if it were in slow motion, your ears filled with white noise until you heard your father say your name.

“Hello? Earth to the baby of the group?” He called out and your mom laughed, your eyes snapping up to him. “Miguel said you two have had a few classes together.”

“Uh, yeah.” You mumbled and ate a forkful of whatever-the-fuck your mother made. Looking around, you saw your sister gazing at her new boyfriend, who was staring at you expectedly. “So?” You looked between him and your father, who continued.

“So, Miguel said that there was recently a boy interested in you?” He asked and your eyes shot to Miguel, who wore an expression that was unreadable.

“What? Who?” You jumped around mentally trying to think of someone.

“Just a rumor that some guy has a crush on you.” He shrugged, as if it was no big deal and you shook your head.

“I… I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So you’re not interested in anyone?” Your mom questioned and you just kept your eyes on your plate, afraid to even answer.

“Miggy, you should set her up with someone.” Your sister interjected and you just glanced up to her in shock, Miguel’s face mimicking your surprise.

“I don’t know anyone she’d be compatible with.” He said and you frowned. Were you that unattractive in his eyes?

You continued to stab your food as your family talked, the peanut gallery fading to the background as you thought to yourself and wished that you were anywhere else.

A text from your phone breaks your concentration and you look down to answer, agreeing to join a few friends for some drinks at their house later. What you didn’t see was Miguel’s eyes tracking your movements, watching you as you texted at the dinner table.

“Honey, don’t be rude, we’re eating together!” Your mom chidded and you snapped your head up, nodding. “Sorry. I’m gonna finish early to get ready, a friend invited me over.” You mumbled quietly and you stood with your plate, leaving the table.

Twenty minutes later and you were walking to the door as your family sat with MIguel in the living room.

“Whose house are you going to?” Your sister asked as you grabbed your purse.

“Just Miles.” You answered and Miguel’s body stiffened.

“Miles… Morales?” He asked and your parents both glanced to MIguel, who looked upset.

“Yeah, why?” You frowned in defense.

“No reason, I’m just surprised that’s the type of person you hang out with.” He brought a beer to his lips, courtesy of your father, and his eyes challenged yours. Your hands balled into fists a bit and you looked angry.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You argued and your sister sighed loudly, putting a hand on MIguel’s thigh to try and de-escalate the situation forming.

“Miles lived down the street from us for a long time, so they’re close.”

“He’s basically a delinquent.” Miguel said and your parents visibly began to think, which was never a good sign.

“He is not-” You tried to answer, but he continued.

“He graffitis the walls near my internship, he skips classes, and he’s always stumbling around like he’s high.” Miguel’s words make your blood boil.

“I’m sorry he’s not super popular or a frat boy, but he’s a good person and he’s smart, and he’s my friend!” You yelled, tears pricking your eyes as you squeezed them shut, then hating the silence that settled within the room. You looked around between everyone’s faces and found Miguel’s, still hard and on the offense. You sniffled and swiped your keys from the little dish in the doorway, looking at him again. “Shouldn’t you be less focused on me and more focused on banging my sister?” You hissed and left as your parents shouted your name in disgust, not even looking back when you slammed the door. You wiped your tears with your sleeve and ran to your car, getting in and driving off as fast as possible.

The night was a blur, Miles and Gwen feeding you drinks to make you feel better after you told them you got in an argument with your sister’s new snot-nosed boytoy.

“Who does he even think he is? Big and fuckin’...” You droned on, slurring your words as you laid your head in Gwen’s lap. She pet your hair as Miles drew something in his notebook, probably his girlfriend who was holding you as you drunkenly vented about your secret crush.

“Mind if I invite some other friends?” Miles asked and Gwen shook her head while you were too distracted to even hear him.

The door opened twenty minutes later and you saw Hobie walk in with a 12 pack of beer on his shoulder, and that made you smile. “Hobie!” Gwen got up and hugged the skinny-jean wearing boy, who set down the beers and then dapped up Miles. His eyes found you and he gave you a small grin.

“Looks like you managed to get loose finally.” He handed you another beer and you happily took the bottle, taking a swig as you nodded. “You look absolutely fit.” His eyes took you in as you did a little clumsy twirl, watching another boy follow behind him. He was either Indian or middle eastern, with shaggy black hair and a big, white smile. “This is Pav.” Hobie introduced you two and he hugged you, taking in your outfit.

“You look so nice, even drunk!” He added and you just laughed, enjoying the little bits of attention you got, not used to being the center of attention.

Everything moved fast as you pumped music louder and the room became more and more full of people. Before any of you knew it, the entire place was packed and it had become a house party. Heavy music played and you danced wildly, swaying your hips and rolling your body to the beat as Gwen laughed and danced beside you. Pav and Hobie were currently occupying the couch, as Hobie had a girl on his lap and Pav talked excitedly to Miles about something he saw that day. The feeling of freedom coursed through your veins, intertwined with alcohol. It wasn’t like the night at the club, no, you were hammered and it felt great. The feeling was interrupted by vibrating in your pocket, to which you went to find a quiet place to answer the call.

Stumbling into Miles’s room, you sat down and checked your phone.

“Hello?” Your sister’s voice came through and you pouted.

“‘M busy.” You sputtered out.

“Are you drunk?”

“...No.” You hesitated, knowing you were an incredibly shitty liar. Especially while you were trashed.

“Oh my god, I’m coming to get you.”

“No! ‘M happy!” You yelped, then threw your body down on the bed and stretched out. “I’m staying. Go suck Miguel’s dick or somethin.” You smiled at your funny joke. You were so funny.

“No, we’re coming to get you, so stay there.” She spoke and before you could answer, she hung up. Sighing, you furrowed your brows and laid there for what only felt like a minute before you stumbled back out of the bedroom, finding the sliding glass door and making your way to the backyard.

The grass felt good on your bare feet and you plopped yourself into it fully, laying back and spreading out in the greenery.

“Get up.” The strong, deep voice was fuzzy in your mind and you just smiled, not recognizing it right away.

“Lay down with me.” You answered and closed your eyes again, fingers playing with the blades of grass by your sides. “Look at the sky with me.”

“Your eyes are closed.” He answered and you giggled.

“The stars are so beautiful.” You rambled, and a large hand brushed against your cheek, eyes now opening to see Miguel crouching by your drunk, splayed out body.

“So are you.” He answered and you felt your stomach tighten, nervousness pulling at your insides as you suddenly couldn’t breathe from butterflies.

Not butterflies. Throw up.

And then you were hacking and wreching to the side of you into the grass, coughing up your dinner from before and feeling someone hold your hair back. A soft ‘oh my god’ was heard from the back door and soon you heard the hurried clacking of heels. Your sister bent down by Miguel and squeezed one of your hands, worry all over her face. That’s when everything turned black.

#miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel smut #angst #atsv miguel

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canisalbus · 4 months

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Do Machete and Vasco ever swap clothes or wear each others clothes?

In original canon their outfits are made to measure and the fabrics at the time didn't stretch much (today many clothes are made of materials that have a small amount of synthetic fibers like elastane, lycra or spandex added to them, I believe it makes them more stretchy and resistant to wear and tear). Machete's outfits tend to be very fitted and Vasco has wider shoulders and more athletic build, I think they would probably be too tight for him. Machete has claimed one or two of Vasco's white ruffled shirts and might briefly wear them at home when he misses him.

In modern au they occasionally borrow each other's clothes if they think they can get away with it and the sizing permits it.

#answered #sourpossumstudios #maybe Machete has given Vasco a pair of gloves or one of his fascias in return #not to wear but to keep as memento or something

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ash-whimsicalfanfic · 9 months

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The reader is a Marines daughter she runs to work every day. Tony asks why she doesn't drive as she should be able to afford a car now. Embarrassed she tells them she has her permit but her father never had time to teach her to drive (a lie). He tells her tobuy a bike to her horror she Embarrasses herself more by letting it slip she doesn't know how to ride one that her father only taught her life saving things not stuff for "fun". Everyone just kind of moves on as she hides her embarrassment well from everyone but Gibbs who sees right through it. Later she asumes everyone left she mumbles to the picture of her father "hey dad do you think a bike or driving lessons are useless now"

You Ain't Alone

Word Count: 1k+

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to get this up! Hopefully this is okay! I went at a more father/daughter aspect between Gibbs and the reader! I loved this suggestion though!

Your alarm blares loudly, and you jolt awake before letting a heavy breath out. You reach over, silencing the loud alarm as you know you have to get up and get ready. As much as you craved to sleep in, you couldn’t because you had to get to work on time. You got home later last night due to the case you guys got. Gibbs seemed more irritated and was insistent on getting justice for these female petty officers who have fallen victim.

You get up and quickly get dressed in black yoga pants and a cropped long sleeve white shirt that is almost like spandex. You put your hair up into a ponytail before stuffing your outfit for the rest of the day into the backpack you bring to and from work.

You lock up your house before you begin your normal run to work. It was pretty therapeutic although you do wish you could just drive to work in the mornings. It meant you could leave your house later for work which would be nice.

You reach the familiar Navy building and slow down until you're walking. You get in the building and curse quietly after realizing that you had gotten here about ten minutes later than normal. Gibbs holds the elevator for you, your entire team must have gotten here at the same time.

“Y/N, why don’t you just drive to work instead of run? Surely you have the money to afford a car now.” Tony asks and your cheeks flush red.

“I-erm, well I-I only have my permit. My dad never had time to teach me to drive.” You stutter out, your face growing even more hot in embarrassment.

“Why doesn’t your dad have time to teach you to drive?” He asks, confused.

“Oh…my dad…he wa–he is a Marine. My entire life…he’s been mostly overseas. It’s been me and my aunt and even she wasn’t there a lot because she was a doctor.” You explain quietly.

You were mortified and you just wanted this elevator ride to end, but it seemed like it wasn’t ever going to end.

“So, buy a bike.” Tony says.

“I don’t know how to ride a bike.” You say before you squeeze your eyes shut and sigh.

You heard the familiar headslap as Tony whines, asking Gibbs why he got smacked and you were the first off the elevator, rushing to the restrooms where you go to a stall and start to change. You let a puff of air out and shake your head as you pull the black dress pants up before buttoning the white blouse. You pull on your boots and tie them before walking out of the stall with your bag. You fix your ponytail before spritzing yourself in perfume.

“God, you just had to embarrass yourself.” You grumble, grabbing your face and shaking your head.

You were eager to start working, thankfully they all had disregarded the elevator which was nice. The day passed slowly and you were sitting at your desk even after everyone had gone home. The entire day the elevator conversation seemed to haunt you.

You look at a picture of your father and you frown. He wasn’t around much in your life and when he was, you were to refer to him as “sir” and he would give you life saving lessons, never anything fun in life. You begged and begged for him to teach you to drive, but he said no. He thought that was a fun thing, not something you’d need later in life.

Gibbs stood on the second level, watching you. He could tell that you were embarrassed all day. You tried to hide it from the rest of the team, but he could see right through you. He quietly makes his way behind the bullpen and you sigh.

“Hey dad, do you think bike or driving lessons are useless now?” You mumble as you grab the picture of him.

He frowns, watching you. He casually rounds into the bullpen, hearing your startled gasp. He goes to his desk and works on some files before abruptly looking up.

“Y/L/N?” He asks.

“Yes?” You ask softly.

“How tired are you?” He asks.

“Not tired at all actually.” You say confused.

“Didn’t you say you have a permit?” He asks.

“Erm, yes.” You murmur, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“Alright, come on. I’m going to teach you to drive.” He says, grabbing his coat.

Your lips part in surprise and he sends you a grin, walking towards the elevator. You eagerly get up, following him to the elevator as excitement fills you.

You couldn’t believe it…you were officially a licensed driver. You had yourself a car and here you were, sitting in it in the NAVY yard parking lot. This was real.

You knew you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Gibbs. He has taught you several things in the past few weeks like, driving, riding a bike, fishing, how to cook the best steaks, and how to build a boat. This man has been more of a father to you than your own. The bond you have with Gibbs has tripled these past few weeks. On top of that, you always feel a little emotional thinking back on these past few weeks. He didn’t have to help you, yet he did.

“I saw your new ride.” Tony says as you step in the elevator and you blush.

“I’m officially a licensed driver.” You say excitedly.

“That’s good!” He says with a grin.

You walk off the elevator together, heading towards the bullpen and Gibbs looks up at you.

“How’d the driver’s test go?” He asks.

“I passed…got my license and I might’ve finally got myself a car with what I saved up. Look!” You exclaim excitedly, showing him your license and he grins.

“Good job, Y/N/N.” He praises and you smile softly.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Gibbs. Thank you so much.” You say.

“Y/N/N, you ain’t alone. We are a family. Don’t ever be afraid to ask for something. My door is always open.” He says, softly smiling at you.

“Literally.” Tony laughs and both of you roll your eyes before you hear a headslap.

You turn back and see Ziva laughing as Tony glares at her. You look back at Gibbs, not before seeing Tim hunched over laughing as Tony tried to make a defense against Ziva. Gibbs had a big grin on his face and you smile, this was your family.

#gibbs #gibbs imagine #gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs #jethro gibbs imagine #jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #ncis fandom #ncis gibbs #ncis imagine #father/daughter #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #ncis team #ncis fanfiction #ncis tony #ncis #ncis x reader #request

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kaciidubs · 8 months

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Yk what i love? Spooky season binnie and his endless supply of couples costumes or yk not really costumes just shit from yalls roleplay closet. Like his cop costumes but the shirts too tight and the buttons bust on it everything he flexes :( or his cute little sailor boy outfit but the shorts are so snug on him :(

He can't help how good his cock looks in those little white shorts, and he cant say no to you riding his fat cock in the bathroom of the halloween party

you’re gonna be the DEATH OF MEEEEEEEEE

Aye Aye, Captain!

❣ Summary: Dressing up as a pirate captain and her very muscly sailor, what's the worst that could happen? ❣ ❣ Word Count: 603 ❣ Warnings: Slight Dom! Reader, Changbin is a tease, Halloween costumes that aren't really Halloween costumes, light smut, riding, open ended ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Jisung is definitely the member who hosts the Halloween parties, convince me otherwise, Changbin is referred to as Baby and Binnie, he uses the word "captain" almost too ironically, consider this my first step into spooky season fics ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

The music booming outside of the bathroom was just loud enough to mask your wanton moans as you bounced along Changbin’s cock; your black spandex shorts and panties in a pool around your foot while his own shorts lay forgotten behind him.

You knew this would happen; the minute Changbin suggested saving on costumes this year and using your captain and sailor costumes for Jisung’s annual “Super Spooky” Halloween party, you knew he was up to something.

It wasn’t for the fact that his navy blue and white striped shirt made his pecs look like they would tear the cheap fabric in two, or the fact that those matching white shorts made his thighs look even more delectable than they already do.

No, it was the fact that they were roleplay costumes, which meant they left nearly nothing to the imagination - your breasts exactly two wrong moves from spilling from the white ruffled blouse, meanwhile the imprint of his cock was extremely noticeable if you stared long enough.

Luckily, everyone was fairly tipsy by the time you both arrived, and the drinks continued to flow until Changbin pulled you aside with the excuse of getting another drink together - though, the hand resting at your lower back said everything but quenching his thirst with drinks.

“Y’know what this outfit reminds me of?” He murmured against the shell of your ear, holding you so that your back was against his solid chest, “The last time you wore it, when you were riding me for being your best sailor.”

A shiver ran down your spine, and you weren’t naive to the hard mass pressed against your ass through the high-low rise of your blouse - if you shifted just right, you could get the skirt to lift just enough to feel the print against your safety shorts.

“Yeah?” A dismissive hum vibrated in your throat as you leaned into his body, your own body buzzing from the drinks you had already. “Maybe we should make a new memory in it, then, sailor.”

His grip on your waist tightened, teeth nipping dangerously at your earlobe, “Aye aye, captain.”

“F-Fuck, Binnie!” You panted as you fucked yourself back onto his cock, hands gripping the countertop of the bathroom’s sink, moving like a woman possessed - wild and unwavering.

Changbin grunted out a response, his stance locked in place as his hands gripped your hips for leverage, the jiggle of your ass completely enrapturing him in the moment.

The sloppy, all too wet sounds of your cunt is more music to his ears than the one playing over the speakers in the living room - the faint sight of his dick glistening in your arousal disappearing past the curve of your ass has him almost certain he’s in a dream.

A high pitched keen escaped you when his dick brushed against your sweet spot, back arching as much as it could in the bent over position you were somehow maintaining, “Baby, baby, just fuck me already, come on!”

His parted lips curve into a smirk as his hands slide to the swell of your ass, gently grabbing your cheeks to grant him more access to the sinful view of his girth stretching your sopping hole. “I thought this was supposed to be a reward for me, captain.”

Abruptly stopping the rocking of your hips, you look over your shoulder to throw him a heated glare, eyes burning with lust and want as you grit, “Fuck me - captain’s orders, sailor.”

Meeting your glare with an all too cocky gaze, he winks back with an untimely charm only he can possess.

“Aye aye, captain.”

❣ One of these days I'll give Changbin his climax scene, I promise ❣

#✧. ┊ kacii answers #skz smut #stray kids smut #changbin x reader #seo changbin x reader #changbin smut #seo changbin smut

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izvmimi · 1 year

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cw: minors dni!!! THIS IS A REPOST. deku interrupts you at work cuz he’s horny, also tbh this is radiologist!reader lmao, pseudo-domestic violence, car sex, questionable depiction of a medical professional. also i got inspired from a tiktok but i lost the tiktok so idk.

the high-pitched buzz of your phone vibrating on paper disrupts your focus, but to be quite honest, it’s a mental break you’ve needed after trying to figure out a case for the past twenty minutes. flipping it over, you can see a text from izuku on the screen, and you quickly unlock the phone.

i’ll be there in three minutes, can you slip away for a bit?

your eyes widen. it is a little past lunchtime, and as the thought crosses your mind your stomach growls. rising up quickly, you draft your report and call out to your attending who is glued to their own screen in the dark room that you’re taking lunch. she murmurs something in agreement under her breath.

it’s very bright outside in contrast to the reading room, but you make a quick way out to the driveway where patients are unloaded to see where izuku’s parked. he could probably walk (or jump) here but that attracts too much attention, so whenever he does surprise you at work, he shows up in the old SUV you refuse to give up despite the fact that he makes well enough money to upgrade you.

you grin as you see him, running up to the lowered passenger window. he grins as he sees you too - he didn’t work today, so he’s dressed down, although he looks upsettingly good in his simple white spandex t-shirt.

“what’d you bring me?” you say quickly, before even opening the door.

izuku raises his eyebrows.

“myself.” he’s still smiling but you frown and your stomach growls again.

“yourself?” you pout but then you get annoyed. he’s been home all day and you’re starving and he usually brings food if he can and thus food is all you can think of right now, even if you are always glad to see him.

“how long do you have?” he asks, tentatively as he starts the car but doesn’t drive off yet. “i missed you… and you’re coming home late again tonight…”

his hand rests on your knee and by the way he caresses it you can sort of tell already what he wants-

“not long enough if that’s what you’re thinking of,” you pout. maybe you’re a little bit of a brat, but more childish anger wells up within you.

“you really didn’t bring any food?” you lament.

he chuckles, and drives off as you stare outside the window. it’s only when he makes a right turn off into the parking garage and not onto the main road that you start to wonder what’s going on.

“izuku?”

“indulge me a little bit?” he asks. the car continues to turn up and up and up until you’re basically on the rooftop. blood is starting to rush to your temples.

you turn to him, irritated this time.

“i’m not going to fuck you on my lunch break????”

he laughs then gives you a glance out of the corner of his eye.

“you’re absolutely sure you’re not?”

“izuku!”

“okay how about i do the fucking?” he jokes.

your heart is racing.

“i’m going to punch you and get out of this car if you keep messing with me like this,” your voice is sharp and shrill, and he laughs even harder.

“you’re so cute when you’re upset,” he teases. car now parked in the furthest corner, but uncovered so that it’s bright and the view of the city is the highest from your vantage point, he stops the vehicle and turns to you, pointing to his cheek.

“do it, baby. punch right here, as hard as you can.”

you grimace.

“i’ll do it for real.”

his green eyes gleam and he leans in. “go ahead. i’m giving you permission, sweetheart.”

it’s a small space, but your arm does find a way to draw back and you threaten it. he grins even wider now.

“if you punch me i’ll buy you dinner for real. we’ll have a feast, actually, whatever you want, okay? i dropped the ball. i am a terrible boyfriend, right? i deserve it.”

you hate when he starts like this because he will keep on egging you on, so reluctantly you draw back further and punch him in the face.

he barely moves from the impact and pouts.

“could be better,” he sighs. he takes your wrist before you can draw it back; it really wasn’t a hard punch, but you wanted him to shut up and now your hand stings a little. he can tell with the wince in your face, and kisses your wrist, eyes still focused on you.

your face warms. the close contact always does to you; he knows you too well.

“s-should we really?” you think out loud as he inches closer. he leans back for a moment and watches you carefully. he’s done bothering you at this point you can tell from the suddenly slightly more pensive look in your eyes.

“okay, you’re right that i missed you and didn’t think, just got in the car, so i’m sorry about that,” he murmurs. biting his lip, he rubs your hand in his lap.

a few moments pass, and you give in. you sigh and kiss him on the cheek.

“i missed you, too.”

you ponder for a moment long, and then kiss him on the lips.

who cares if it’s midday and you’re on the clock?

izuku knows what you’re thinking the moment your lips meet his, and his tongue is in your mouth instantly. in a practiced and thus fluid motion, he pulls the seat back while pulling you on top of him as you climb over the car console. your mouths connect and disconnect and his hand unravels your scrub top tucked into your pants and moves upwards to cup a breast. the kiss deepens and you moan into his mouth as his fingers toy with a pebbled nipple. your bodies start to rock together, and you forget that there’s a medical mystery you haven’t yet solved and you’re hungry and tired and still have 8 hours of work left, but regardless, you let yourself sink into your pro hero partner’s arms. he kisses your face and your neck, sucking gently down to the space between your breasts. you raise your hips, and the hard cock that’s been poking between your legs as you straddle him makes an appearance.

will you have time to clean up afterwards?

either way, you sink down onto his cock and soon your car is moving violently as izuku thrusts up and down and up and down and you throw it right back at him.

you can hear him moan as his fingers tighten around your hips but you’re still much, much louder. the sun is beating down and there’s even more heat in the car as you become sweatier through loosened clothing. izuku fills your appetite in another way, you have to admit.

always.

—

“did you change your scrubs?” your attending asks as you rush back to your desk nearly an hour later.

you stumble a bit as you barrel past, and thank the heavens that reading rooms are always dark.

“yeah, i spilled some soup so went to the call room and changed.”

“oh, that sucks. hey, i took over that draft for you. good job on that case, you were on the right track.”

“ah, yes.”

your stomach is still growling, but you have excellent dinner plans to look forward to at 8.

and maybe you’ll be fed again, a different way.

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya smut #izuku smut #daydreams: bnha #thoughts: izuku #mimi's notes #mimi's izu <3

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lycrasportyboy · 6 months

Text

#my progress #gym #compression wear #lycra #spandex #sport #men in lycra #skins #wrestling singlet #compression t shirt #compression shorts #compression #chest compressions #compression gear #white socks

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luvly-writer · 5 months

Text

"XOXO"

Ch 8 She makes the whole place shimmer

-•-

Author’s note: Long chapter ahead! I worked so hard on this and Chapter 9 so please, you are invited to let me know your feedback! Hope you all enjoy!!<3

Warnings: creepy men

Taglist: @w31rdg1rl @mxtokko @loonymoonystuff @grandstrangerphantom @1lellykins

if you’d like to be added to the taglist; leave a comment below!

masterlist:

-•-

Y/n's leg kept bouncing as she sat in one of the rooms of the Gilded Hall. Her family had arrived early due to the fact that her mother and sisters were part of the organization committee. Yn was always in charge of the decorations and this year she had gone all out. The theme was red, gold, and green and it looked beautiful. She would have enjoyed her work even more if only her family hadn't invited Mr. Moris as well. The moment that he arrived, she had fled to one of the many vanity rooms of the hall. Still, in her white long furry coat, which she maintained to keep her beautiful dress hidden, she waited for Tim's text telling her that he had arrived. Finally, she hears the notification go off on her phone.

She sent Tim her location and soon, she heard him knock. She walked towards the door and let him in.

"Why are you still in your coat?" he asked taking a good look at her.

"I panicked and ran when I saw Mr. Morris making his way towards him. Plus I wanted to make a big reveal of my dress because no one else has seen it, " she said looking down and playing with her coat.

"Isn't that a bit dramatic?" he asked with an amused smirk.

"You dress up in a spandex suit and fight crime under the alias of a bird. Do YOU have room to judge?" she quips as she takes him in. Sleek black suit, grey vest and white dress shirt that fitted him just right. Sleek black pants with black shiny dress shoes as well. But that wasn't what caught her eyes the most...it was the very shiny, very glittery light blue tie he was wearing. She walks towards him and smiles.

"Your tie..." she whispers as she caresses it..

He looks down at her. Even with her heels, he was taller than her. "What about it?" he asked softly.

"It matches perfectly! My sisters are going to freak out. We will look perfect...AND AND IT SPARKLES TIM IT SPARKLES!" she smiled brightly and a part of Tim's heart wanted to keep that smile there forever.

"Yes it does, angel" he smiled.

"Let's go!" she took his hand and pulled him out. She led him around many different passages.

"How do you know this place so well?" he asked seeing as she finally reached one hall. He could see the entrance at the end of it and knew that she was going to defininitely going to make a big entrance.

"How does it look?" she asked and Tim finally turned to look at her. She had taken her coat off and was showing him her dress. True to her word her dress was light blue with a lot of sparkly diamonds. A true winter goddess. She was dazzling. She twirled in front of him and smiled.

"Breathtaking, angel. Doing justice to your name" he said with adoration in his eyes.

"What name?" She laughed and it really went straight through his heart.

"The ice queen" he answered, offering her his arm. "I still don't understand why that is your nickname seeing as of the three of you, you are the least that should be classified as a nightmare," he asked as you both began walking forward. Y/n stayed quiet, the dazzling smile she had on faltered a little. He was expecting one of her witty comebacks or another of her lovely eye rolls and yet he got silence and a sight frown.

“Sometimes you have to be a little bit cruel for people to take you seriously” she said looking down, “but that is not the topic tonight! Ready?”

she changed the subject, tugging his arm and smiling again.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said trying to move past that weird moment. He will store it in his head to investigate it later on.

Once they neared the entrance, the attention was on them. Paparazzi from everywhere were taking pictures and asking questions. Everyone wanted the latest insider on what was going on between two of the most prominent figures of Gotham. Y/n smiled and waved as she hugged Tim's arm tighter. Tim wanted to look at the camera but all he could do was admire her. They posed here and there, he smiled at them every once in a while, but his eyes would not leave Y/n. This made the crowd go even more wild.

Finally, they were beginning to get closer to the Vanderbilts. William Vanderbilt, Y/n's father, stood tall and imposing. He was known to be quite serious. Next to him was Franchesca Vanderbilt, Y/n's mother. It was obvious where Yn got her beauty from. Y/n had her eyes, fave structure, and hair. Not far from them were Aurora and Charlisse with their respective husbands. It is true what they say, there has never been an ordinary woman in the Vanderbilt family. They were all known for their remarkable abilities and breathtaking beauty. Not too far back, Mr. Morris was standing, sizing him up. Noticing this, Tim smirked and decided to pull Y/n closer, kissing her temple.

"Mother, father, sisters, what a lovely evening! I would love to present you all to Timothy, my boyfriend" Y/n said, showing him off proudly. She laid her head on his shoulder and hugged his arm smiling. His heart warmed at her affection, even though he knew it was for show.

"It is a pleasure to meet you all. Mr. Vanderbilt, it has been a while. Ladies, you all look dazzling." said Tim as he flashed his most charming smile.

Yn's sisters smiled at the pair and shook Tim's hand.

"The pleasure is all ours, Mr. Drake Wayne. Our sister seems to be completely smitten over you," said Aurora, smiling softly at how Tim turned to look at Y/n and wink at her, causing her to roll her eyes playfully. "Let us hope that this pairing does both of you good." she finished and left with her husband. Charlisse inspected him lightly and raised her eyebrow at him. "That's the baby of the family, Timothy, one wrong move and I will have every private investigator in a 5-mile radius on you and leave you with nothing." She said with a big smile.

"Ever the diplomatic, Char. Let's leave the threats for another day, please, we are in public" responded Y/n. Charlise raised her nose and walked away. That left them with her parents, who had not spoken a word the entire time. Franchesca tried to give him a warm smile and seemed welcoming. On the other hand, William speaks up. "I hope tonight's dinner helps us get to know you Timothy, we have been anxious to meet you," he said. Something about the way he said anxious gave Tim a bad feeling. Not only that, the way Y/n tightened her grip on him made him grow cautious. What had he stepped into?

-•-

So far the dinner had gone fairly well. They had been seated at the table and people were mingling amongst themselves. They were placed on a straight table. Yn had been seated between Tim and Mr. Morris. To his left, were sat Aurora and her husband. In front of them, from left to right, were seated Charlisse and her husband, William, and Franchesca. He sat directly in front of her father, and Y/n sat in front of her mother.

They had gotten through the first two courses when William spoke up. "So Timothy, is it true you actually dropped out of high school?" Francesca turned to look at her husband scoldingly. Before she could open her mouth and excuse her husband, Tim spoke up. "Yes, I decided to drop out when Bruce offered me the position of CEO, I wanted to focus on the business." William's face stayed stone cold. Charlisse decided to continue with the question, "How ethical is it to place a seventeen-year-old in the position of CEO?" Y/n glared at her, knowing that her sister was playing the same game as her father.

"Pretty ethical, I'd say. He had been teaching me the ways of the company when I had recently turned 17, and he gave it to me a few weeks before my 18th birthday; meaning that when the paperwork was finalized I was legally an adult." Tim responded taking a sip from his drink. Y/n held his hand on top of the table and squeezed it in reassurance. She had warned him of the targeting they would have done to him.

"Say, and how has that gone for you?" she asked, "Surely a kid can't possibly be apt to take over and not lead them to bankruptcy"

"I'll have you know that Tim's mind is brilliant, Charlisse. If you'd been informed, you would know that Wayne Enterprises has done nothing but flourish and grow ever since Tim became the head of the company." Y/n defended. This wasn't the first time they piled up against a boyfriend of hers. (well fake boyfriend in this situation, but they did not know that)

"Thank you, angel. And to answer your question, Bruce went a few months shadowing me so that if I had any problems or questions, he would be there to help. He made sure the transition was as smooth as possible. I am completely grateful for him trusting me with this opportunity and helping me along the way" he answered. Your mother awed at that and smiled.

"I find that difficult to believe," said Charlisse and was about to ask another question when Aurora spoke up, "Charlisse, that is enough. He is a guest at our party, don't forget your manners," she said. Y/n smiled at her gratefully.

"Francis, old friend, what did you say you did this weekend?" your father asked smirking at the old man. You felt your heart drop a little.

"I took a trip to the Met Museum in New York. I had the pleasure of purchasing one of the most lovely paintings I have ever encountered. Are you all familiar with the Le Saule Pleureur?" he said and looked directly at Y/n. Tim felt her stiffen at his words and looked at her questionally.

"I'm afraid that I am not aware of how that is possible. Le Saule Pleurer is not a painting that is on sale," said Y/n taking a big sip of her wine.

"But it is. Your father put a good price on it and now it is currently being sent to my home gallery." Mr. Morris said, sending a chilling smile towards Yn.

Yn felt her heart stop. She looked towards her father and he looked down to his food, unable to meet her eyes. She turned to her mother whose eyes were filled with pity. Yn could feel a knot in her throat. "How could you?" she asked softly.

Tim felt his heart shatter at her tone. He looked at the young girl and placed his arm around her. He had no idea what they were speaking about yet he didn't press much. He decided to observe the room around him. Aurora looked horrified at the news and turned to discuss it with her husband. Charlisse was watching her father and sister intently, waiting for the next move. Something about her reminded Tim of a snake willing to pounce. Then her mother, reached out to Y/n and tried to place her hand on top of hers but only received a cold look. Her father was watching Yn intently, waiting for her next move and Mr. Morris was smirking at the scene. Yn was about to say something but her father cut her off.

"It is just a painting, Y/n. Don't make a scene now." He said dryly, "Besides if you wish to see your precious painting, you know the answer to your problem is clear as day". Everyone caught his insinuation. Tim had deduced that it was something of great value to Yn and the only way she would be able to see it was if she married Mr. Morris. "Father...." Yn began, but wasn't able to finish because the debutantes were going to be presented.

For the rest of the meal, Y/n would only interact with him and Aurora. Mr. Morris would try to make advances to her and she would cuddle closer to Tim every time. Finally, the dinner was over. The debutants and guests were invited to take the floor. Tim took this opportunity to bring Y/n away and give her some space to breathe.

He wanted to ask but refrained from doing so in a very public setting. He could feel Yn was glad that he had not asked yet. A few dances later and Tim went to look for some refreshments, leaving Yn alone to wait for him.

"Miss Vanderbilt" she heard someone call her. She turned around and saw Mr. Morris nearing her. She looked around for Tim but she was too late, Mr. Morris had gotten a hold of her.

"You seem to be constantly avoiding me, Miss Vanderbilt," he said. She saw his eyes scanning her body up and down. She hugged herself trying to place a little coverage. "And that saddens me, my girl. I have been nothing but kind to you all these years and this is how you repay me. I have held nothing but admiration for you ever since your were a child" he smiled creepily.

"Ever since I was a child? What is that supposed to mean?" she asked disgusted.

"I have held adoration for you, your remarkable abilities, and your beauty ever since you were a young girl, my dear. Have you not ever noticed?"

"I have Mr. Morris, and I believe it is hardly appropriate," she said timidly.

"Please call me Francis"He insisted.

"I'd rather not," she remarked, which made the man grow frustrated.

"Miss Vanderbilt, I can assure you it is appropriate, you are 21 years of age. You are surely a legal and consulting adult, I have been waiting for-"

"Surely, waiting for a minor to become legal must be considered an act of pedophilia by some people, don't you think, Francis?" interrupted Tim. He had heard some of the conversation and was absolutely disgusted by it. He had to intervene. Mr. Moris glared at Tim and made a displeased sound. Tim gave Yn her glass and wrapped his arms around her waist. Feeling Tim hug her from behind, Yn relaxed into his body. She felt safe around him.

"I suggest you stay out of the matter at hand, Timothy." He said, straightening his back to try to be at eye level with Tim.

"That is Mister Drake Wayne to you, Francis.. and of course this concerns me. My girlfriend is being weirded out by the flirtations of a man twice her age who refuses to take the hints of her clear discomfort and notice the clear boundaries she has placed." He said tugging Yn behind him, creating a physical division between Mr, Moris and her.

"You are in no good authority to speak to me as such. I will have a conversation with your father about this, Miss Vanderbilt. This is an insult. You will face the repercussions, Miss Vanderb-" he was cut off by Tim

“I can assure you she will not. Go near her again and I will have my lawyers and my father's on call by sunrise. You are familiar with the expression 'a Wayne never loses a case' am I correct? I will have you know if anyone in my family catches word of this predatory behavior you can say goodbye to your public standing because we will make sure your reputation will be considered dead. Have I made myself clear?" Tim seethed. You had never seen this side of him and were taken aback.

"You can't do that" said a trembling Mr. Morris.

"Yes. I. Can." stated Tim coldly, "I have the money and the standing, so test me." Everybody knew the Wayne's name was Old Money, so standing he did have. He was going through with his word and everyone knew it. Finally, Mr. Morris backed up with an angry face. Tim took Yn's hand and let her out. She was too in shock of the situation to say anything.

-•-

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alitheamateur · 11 months

Text

After Hours

I’m sooo new to this JB fanfic world! Go easy on me 😎 Someone planted this little seed, so I obliged. Some smutty, smut, smut, so enjoy yourself. You’ve been warned 🫠

Preseason was a plethora of emotions for you. The anticipation of the impending season and the ring it may deliver for your guy was the indescribable high it brought. But, you couldn’t help but feel the heavy dread of Joe’s time with you slipping away once more as the month of May arrived.

Off season for him was coincidentally your slowest time of year at work as well, which meant the two of you were attached at the hip. Actually, more so attached in other places. Much more fun, satisfying places

Joe had fallen into the grind and sway of mini camp earlier last week, and you’d already seen so much less of that beach tanned face than you would ever prefer. A spring event you were knee deep in planning for a new business downtown had your attention on lockdown into the late evening hours, usually after Joe had been in bed for a while upon your arrival home. The ebb and flow of responsibility wearing out it’s welcome in your relationship.

Lucky for you, you had some pull with one very valuable QB, who could snag you some VIP access, & he had planned you join him at the facility for your cardio after work, rather than the 24-hour gym you typically attended alone 4 times a week.

You’d changed in your office as the sun dozed off into the night, & were about to take a left into the stadium lot when your phone chimed.

J: Let me know when you’re here. I’ll come walk you up.

Most spaces were empty as majority of the team had turned in for the night, but occasionally Joe liked to hang around late and get an ice bath in after the heat of his day.

You slung your car into park, gathering your keys and such, and waited for Joe to arrive at your beckoning.

Just as you’d opened the door of your white SUV he’d come gliding out the double doors of the tunnel. Still clad in the sticky residue of a sweaty afternoon, his tussled curls bounced from under the confines of a black headband. The thin coverings of a nearly painted on sleeveless shirt left little to your already soaring imagination as he patiently approached you with a lazy half smile.

“There she is.” He cooed, snaking a wide, sinewy forearm around your waist.

You met his eager kiss, sneaking a salty taste of his top lip between your teeth briefly.

“Let’s get this show on the road, Burrow. I have plans for you when we get home.”

Joe raised his groomed eyebrows in curious intrigue, nodding his head as he intertwined his fingers with yours to escort you inside.

The lights of the hallways had been switched off, the glow of an office here and there lighting the way towards the weight room. Once you’d twisted and turned through the doorways of the locker room and PT areas, Joe let loose of your hand to gesture toward his polar plunge.

“ I lifted while the guys were still here but Ja’Marr and I moved the bike in here for you so we could be closer.”

As he explained, he nonchalantly eliminated the cover of his spandex shirt, the lines of his back showing off in full view.

This man is actually going to have the audacity to outright strip himself like there’s nothing to it.

You played his coy game, realizing if you didn’t, there was no way you’d be able to keep your grubby paws off of him until the two of you reached home.

Slinging a leg over the seat of the exercise bike, you shifted comfortably & moved to pop a headphone into one ear for some background music.

“I can play something through the speakers, babe.” Joe mentioned, dragging your attention to his bear naked frame about to slink into the sea of slush.

His breath hitched, but only momentarily as he disappeared below the beck into the tub, still leaving you a view of his broad biceps laid over sides of his bath.

Smiling, still baffled at his calm, collective behavior, you nodded. “Only if you promise to play things I like too, stereo hog.”

He reached for his phone, poking at the screen behind quizzical brows just as H.E.R echoed faintly through the concrete walls.

You’d already began to pedal, a sheen of liquid collecting on your chest beneath a white tank top. Joe would ask a brief question about dinner, and you’d inquire how camp was going, catching up on each other as the moments passed.

Your focus lie far, far away from anything other than him.

The racket of ice chattered off the sides of the metal tub as he’d shift his apparently sore knees beneath the water, causing him to stretch his thick neck from side to side. A board hand combing back the stray waves ticking his forehead, water from his bath dampened the knotted locks.

Your breaths were hitching with the heaviest rise and fall watching him, the motion of your speedy pedaling easier on you than the sight of him.

“Slow down, baby. You’re not gonna be able to walk outta here.” Joe chuckled, oblivious to the fact that your workout had nothing to do with your panicked pace.

Reaching for a towel, he revealed himself from beneath the water, arising from the pool like statuesque sex. Eyes down as he tied the towel around his hips, not hurriedly, assuring you catch the perfect glimpse of his gifted manhood, he then looked up, bottom lip biting back his arrogant, knowing smile. He winked toward you.

Your movements, and possibly even your breaths, ceased at the sight. Aches all unrelated to the exercise bicycle tore through your core viciously, undoubtedly giving away your want for him.

“Is anyone here?” You simply asked him.

Stepping out onto the floor, he matter of factly marched toward the locker room before picking up his phone.

“Nope.” He answered as he lifted you from atop the seat.

Your legs instantly tightened around his muscled stomach as he carried you with a purpose you were all too readily aware of.

The fluorescent lights of the carpeted room reflected off the wetness of both your bodies as Joe tongued his way inside your mouth, lowering your unsteady legs to the floor.

“Sit here.” He bossed, placing you on a chair directly in front of his name marked locker.

“You’re up to something,” you breathily remarked and he pulled off you shoes, then your leggings, nearly growling to find nothing underneath.

“You better fucking believe I am,” he boldly admitted. “Take off that damn bra.”

Like the law abiding citizen you were, you obeyed without second thought, although curious why he was stepping away from you.

Planting his still towel clad body a few feet in front of you, he lifted his phone to point in your direction.

“Look above your head,” Joe directed so you would turn to see his name plate just over top of you. “Now, touch yourself for me.”

Confusion, however still arousal, swarmed you for a mere second before you connected the dots.

Joe wanted this memory forever. You, naked and flushed with overwhelming heat, pleasuring yourself in front of his locker, his name marker above you like a little gift tag. The success of his dreams come true, and his most prized asset all in one photo. Not to mention there wasn’t anything sexier to him than you being turned on by the colossal badass he was on the field.

You obliged with full commitment, not daring ruin this fantasy for him. As if you’d had to pretend to begin with…

You steadied yourself, legs spread wide, your neck fell back in a heavy daze as you touched between your thighs. Twinges of an anticipated release wasted no time trying to overcome you, almost seconds after you’d began. The excited and unfamiliar adventure of the moment almost too much to bear.

“Enough is enough.” Joe croaked with a scratchy throat. “I’m fucking taking you.”

Before you could protest, (as if you would) he was on his knees feasting and worshipping at the gap of your thighs like a man crazed. You tugged at his hair, latching a leg around his neck to steady yourself for his attack but there was no dignity left between the two of you. Screams of passion and groans of a starving man bounced off your ear drums, sounds you thought you may be arrested for had anyone witnessed.

“I could die one happy fucking man right now, princess. Such a good girl doing what daddy says.”

Trying to resist the explosion you felt in your belly, simply trying to make the moment last, you held your breath. But the resistance had no chance against Joe. You shook from head to toe, squashing the near life out of his handsome face as you clenched in release around him.

Barely taking a second to let him recover from snack time, you swiftly tugged him to the seat now slick with your sticky sweetness & mounted his wide lap with giddy readiness.

You knew better than to slid onto him without slow preparation, but the fire inside you spread like a ruthless flame & you couldn’t take the time for forms of restraint. Joe laid his palm on your panting throat, his thumb bitten between your hard bite. He never took the blown pupils of his eyes off of you as you frantically rode his solid member. Joe’s tongue grazed the love of your ear, the labored exhales of your name encouraging you.

“This what you had in mind?” You whimpered, digging into his shoulder for leverage.

His worked palm’s grazed their way over every goosebump on your swaying body, their destination bound for the gentle shimmy of your plump cheeks. The way he molded into you was an indescribable bliss that your body had learned to crave more than any morsel of food known to man. The sensation of his meaty, toned core flexed under your clawed fingers, and he kissed his answer into your mouth.

“This is always what I have in mind, gorgeous. I never get tired of this soft little pussy.” He chuckled devilishly, his sexy smile only sending you farther over pleasures edge.

Your sudden, clenching jolts, taunting Joe inside of you, and you saw the familiar furrow of his brow that meant he was shamelessly losing himself to your feminine sway.

Tilting your heads back in united ecstasy, the pair of you rode of the finishings, headed skin electric against one another.

“We should make a habit of this,” Joe traced small lines on the small of your back, peppering you with thoughtful kisses. He was proud of himself, cheeky son of a bitch.

He helped you get dressed before clothing himself, escorting you go your car, flirting like a teenager the whole way, his arm snug around your shoulders.

“We still have to shower when we get home..” He reminded.

Maybe the seasons beginning wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#joe burrow #fanfic #joe burrow fan fic #fanction #joseph lee burrow #joe burrow imagine #nfl fan fic #oneshot #joe burrow fanfiction

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songforeddiemunson · 2 years

Text

Sex Sounds

MASTERLIST

Eddie Munson x F!reader (college years AU)

Summary: Eddie is not pleased about reader returning to Uni in the morning

Warnings: this is pure smut with a little bit of fluff. Oral (f-receiving), p in v intercourse, slightly dubcon, teasing, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids)

Word Count: 1167

~~~~~

“Eddie stop it, I need to finish this!”

You’re laid on the couch, trying to finish a reading assignment. Summer break is almost over, and you have to go back to uni in the morning. Unfortunately, your boyfriend will not stop pestering you.

“Take them off,” Eddie coos, while fiddling with the hem of your spandex shorts. It’s been hot, damn hot, so it has been nothing but t-shirts and bike shorts in the droning, cool air conditioning of Eddie’s trailer.

“I need to read,” you protest, but you huff out a laugh as Eddie tugs on the waistband of your shorts. “Cut it out, I’m not wearing any underwear under these,” you giggle.

Eddie’s dark eyes meet yours from down at the other end of the couch, and you feel a jolt of something primal. “Oh honey,” Eddie chuckles. “You shouldn’t have told me that,” he drawls, in that musical way of his.

More purposefully now, he tugs at the waistband of your shorts with both hands, folding them down past your hips, exposing the mound of carefully trimmed hair below your pelvis.

“Eddie,” you protest again, but your voice has lost its heat, your breath quickening in anticipation.

“Almost there,” Eddie smirks, and slides your shorts down and along your legs, tossing them aside. “I’m not going to see you for a month after tomorrow, so I’m going to have as much of you as possible.”

“Eddie, I– “ you begin, but your words are cut off by a sharp intake of breath as he buries his head between your thighs, closing his lips around your mound without preamble, his tongue finding its way to your clit. The sensation is like sparks of euphoric electricity straight into your core, and you tangle your fingers in his hair and whimper.

He breaks contact briefly, the air from the room suddenly cold on your sensitive, moist skin. He lifts his head to meet your eyes, and you lose yourself for just a moment. Gods, he is beautiful.

“Look at you,” he says softly. “All breathy and whining for me. It’s been like two seconds,” he chuckles.

“Don’t tease,” you pant, writhing.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, and returns to his task, licking up your slit and pressing his tongue directly against your clit, making you buck your hips lightly. He snakes one long arm up your torso, slipping his index and middle fingers between your lips, wetting them. You suckle his fingers briefly, and you hear the faintest of groans vibrate against your core, before Eddie removes his fingers from your mouth and slides them into your cunt.

You gasp, the dual sensations of Eddie’s tongue and fingers making you writhe your hips involuntarily; you are liquid, you are serpentine. You are his. He pumps his fingers in and out of you slowly as his tongue pushes lazy circles into your clit. He continues at this pace for some time, as you stroke his hair, moaning and sighing, and then he ups the ante.

He closes his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and sucks, all while hooking his two fingers inside of you and stroking your inner G-spot, making you arch your back and keen loudly, the pressure in your core building into one of white fire, making you see stars in its intensity. “Fuck,” you pant, your orgasm arriving suddenly, and you squeal his name as it washes over you, leaving your legs shaking as it recedes.

“Babe, you taste so good,” he says, rising up and climbing over you, meeting your lips with his in a filthy, wet kiss. Your jaw cracks as you open your mouth widely to accommodate him. He is kissing you so deeply, his tongue sliding over yours, devouring, desperate, needy. You grind your hips up into his, and you feel him snake his hand down to the button of his jeans, the excitement in you building as he frees himself from the confines of the stiff cotton. He shoves his jeans down just enough to free his cock, and you feel the tip of it poke your upper thigh. Without breaking his kiss, he slings one of your legs over his shoulder, and he positions himself at your entrance.

He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to yours. He locks eyes with you as he pushes into you, your wet and ready passage receiving him without interruption. You are slick, and suddenly you are full of him. He bottoms out completely, and you can feel the slight ache of him as he bumps your cervix, that delightful, ecstatic ache. He pauses to pepper your face with little kisses as he brings his right arm up and hooks his hand around the back of your head in a possessive caress, as he slides out almost fully and then shoves himself back in. Your breathing quickens in your excitement; he thrusts languidly again, and then again, and then he is picking up his pace, humping, fucking. The sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your wet slick mingle with the sounds of your skin slapping and his wallet chain jingling, a delightful carnal cacophony, and you wind your fingers into the back of his hair and grab it by the fistful, holding fast to him. He groans and moans as the intenstity of your fucking builds, he is rocketing into you now without restraint. The couch springs are squeaking and even the legs of the couch are bumping against the floor in a rhythmic mirror of your sex sounds. He latches onto your neck, biting, sucking and marking you. He likes to send you back to campus marked, to show the world that you belong to him.

All of the sounds and sensations, his mouth on your neck, his thick dick, his hand in your hair; it’s perfect, and your orgasm builds quickly and intensely. He feels it too, and quickens his pace even more, rising up and increasing the angle of your bodies, sheathing himself fully with every thrust, allowing your gasps and cries to bring him closer to his own end. You ride out your orgasm together, and Eddie sighs your name as his mouth is on yours again, but this time the kiss is more gentle, fluid, loving. A tear rolls down your cheek as your arms slide around him, hugging him close as he finishes pumping his seed into your depths. Gods, your boyfriend knows how to fuck you.

Eddie pulls away from you, looking down on you with a blissful expression. You are quite sure you’re a mess; your face and neck are reddened, covered with his spit from his lavishing kisses and tongue, your cunt swollen and overstimulated, panting as if you’d just run for your life. His gaze is nothing short of adoration, however, and he trails a finger down your cheek, matching the track of your tears.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says simply, a small smile tugging up the corners of his swollen lips.

The feeling is mutual.

MASTERLIST

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson x freader #my writing

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