frankenhookersmonster - Tumblr blog

[frankenhookersmonster]

do you guys remember when frank castle jumped on a guy and literally smushed his eyeballs into his skull with his bare fucking hands. that was deranged as fuck. hot tho

[frankenhookersmonster]

Hi hi! I’m sure you’re being flooded, but I’d love a little something about younger (20 or older though!) reader babysitting for dad! Steve. Smutty if you feel so inclined. Can be single or not, dealer’s choice!

I went wayyyy overboard with this, oops, but it was so sexy omfg

word count: 2k

warnings: huge age gap (45+ vs 20), unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral m receiving, sliiiightly mean dom steve, size kink, stomach bulge kink, daddy kink

You'd been crushing on Mr. Harrington for years, actually... even before the divorce.

It wasn't just that he was good-looking, although that was obviously part of it. It was the way he acted with you, it made you feel all girly and little and dumb; it was the way he played with his kids which made your uterus sob in envy; it was the way he wore reflective shades to the pool and you had to wonder if he was looking at you and seeing how much you'd grown.

For the longest, much to your dismay, nothing happened between you. You'd been trying to make conversation after he came back each night to finish your babysitting shift, but it never really worked. Nothing worked, actually, not even the skimpy outfits or the strategic bending over or the casual touches to his arm or knee.

Nothing worked until last night.

It started mostly normal, except that he was obviously in a worse mood than usual. You asked how his date went; he dodged the question. You pressed again, and he shook his head as he sat down on the couch, running his hands over his hair.

"It's starting to feel futile," he explained, speaking quietly knowing his kids were asleep down the hall.

"What is?"

"All of it," he breathed. "Dating, work, all of it."

You sat next to him, pulling your knees up on the sofa and tilting your head sympathetically. "Tell me about it," you offered.

Amazingly, he did. He told you about how each woman he went out with was worse than the last, and he didn't trust any of them with his kids. That made your heart skip; I'm his babysitter, he trusts me with his kids.

He told you about how rough the divorce had been, and then the custody arrangements. Apparently he was still dealing with that even though Mrs. Harrington had moved out probably almost two years ago now.

He told you about how hard his job was, how the hours killed him, how he could barely find time to spend with his family because he was putting out everyone else's fires at the office.

"That all sounds really stressful, Mr. Harrington," you cooed when he finished his rant. "You need to relax."

He chuckled a little. "Easier said than done."

"Maybe I can help you."

He raised an eyebrow in confusion, but his eyes went wide as he watched you get on your knees on the ground.

"Let me help you relax, Mr. Harrington," you pleaded, running your hands over his legs gently as they stayed slightly spread on the couch.

"Oh, uh— I— sweetie, we can't—"

You reached up to his belt, and even if his words were hesitant, he lifted his hips slightly to make it easier for you to unbuckle it.

"Are you— fuck— are you really—? Baby..."

It made your hips wiggle against the carpet hearing him talk like that. You got his fly open next, and started to rub his cock through his boxers underneath. His eyes followed your every move in disbelief.

He was just starting to get hard when you took him out, but he was already so big... your mouth was watering. You couldn't wait any longer: you looked up at him for just a second before you leaned forward and took his fat head into your mouth.

Groaning and tilting his head back, his hands found purchase in your hair instantly.

"Fuuuck," he breathed, "you're... you're so bad, sweetie, you know you shouldn't... oh my god."

You bobbed your head eagerly, feeling him swell and harden against your tongue until your mouth was stretched to its limit by his size. You hummed around him joyfully, revelling in the softly salty taste on your tongue. Stroking with your hand what your lips couldn't reach, you took a break after a few minutes to look up at him for approval.

"Where'd a sweet girl like you learn how to do that?" he asked with a long sigh. "Fuck, keep sucking... look up at me, baby."

You did as you were told, and he adjusted his hips slightly so it was easier for you to keep eye contact with him while you suckled at his throbbing head.

"Good," he praised, stroking your cheek as you worked. "Such pretty eyes... and that pretty mouth too, god. Take it deeper, sweetie, you can choke a little."

His hand helped push you down until his dick hit the end of your throat, and you gagged helplessly. He moaned loudest at that, eyes falling shut for a moment.

"Too big for your little mouth, huh?" he noticed. "Poor baby. Choke on me again."

You did as he said and noticed his hips rocking up to push his cock even deeper and gag you even harder. Tears welled in your eyes but he purred in satisfaction.

"Mm, good job," he praised, "you're so good for me, sweetie."

Needing a break for your throat, you pulled back and stroked him slowly as you made conversation. "How long has it been since somebody sucked your cock, Mr. Harrington?" you asked sweetly.

"Fuck, I don't even know— years? Before Allie was born, probably. She didn't... she never did it, really," he mumbled, and you tried not to bite your lip. Of course his bitch ex-wife never did this to him, he was probably so starved for affection for ages.

"That's such a shame," you pouted, "it tastes so good. I'd never be able to stop tasting you, Mr. Harrington."

"Then don't stop," he encouraged, pushing your head down again. You got back into the pattern, only taking breaks to lathe the shaft in long licks from base to tip; he seemed to like those a lot.

Sometimes you felt his cock throb and you hoped it meant he would come soon: you couldn't wait. You went on for a while longer, though, and started to get desperate for it. When his heavy breathing made you pretty sure he was close, you broke the pattern one more time to encourage him. "I want you to come in my mouth," you informed him. "M'gonna swallow it, sir, I promise."

"No, fuck no," he interrupted, surprising you. "No, I want that pussy. Fuck, I need your pussy, get up here."

You climbed onto the couch eagerly, straddling his lap as he started to pull your skirt up right away. He snapped your panties off like it was nothing, instantly groaning at the sight of your mound beneath; you felt so exposed in the best way, you worried you were going to drip right down onto his khakis with him looking at you like that.

"Fuck, sweetie, you're so gorgeous," he sighed, "such a gorgeous little pussy. C'mere..."

He held your thighs, petting them as he guided you down to his cock. He stopped looking at it once he was just barely pushing inside, instead starting to watch your face as you sank down onto his length with a moan. "Fuck!" you whimpered. "Fuck, too big, you're too—"

"Shh, shh," he soothed, "gotta be quiet, baby, the kids are asleep."

Your gut burned from how stupidly hot that was, and you bit your lip to try to keep it down. His cock reached the end of you and you jolted, trying to move back up, but he shook his head and kept guiding you down.

"No, sweetie, you need to take all of me," he scolded gently. "You're gonna take all of me, fuck, so good..."

Finally, somehow, he managed to get it all inside until your thighs were flush with his. You were shaking, it was so deep you were shaking; there was a slight bulge in your tummy where his cock filled you. "Mr. Harrington, it's too deep..."

He growled, actually growled, and held your hips tightly. "No, baby, it's just the right amount. You're taking me so good... all of my cock is in you, sweetie, you're doing so fucking good. Now just ride me."

Shaking and whimpering, you started to rock your hips on top of his; he sighed and watched you, looking wrecked in the best way.

"Yeah, fuck," he encouraged, "fuck, you know how long it's been since I had pussy like this? Tight, wet, young pussy like yours? You feel so fucking good..."

"You too," you moaned, "you feel so good, Mr. Harrington..."

He smirked a bit. "I think we're on a first name basis by now... but I want you to keep calling me that anyways. It's so fucking cute."

Pulling you a little closer, he whispered right by your ear.

"Maybe," he suggested, "you could even call me daddy."

"Oh, daddy," you pounced on the opportunity immediately, and he groaned in satisfaction. "Daddy, it feels really really good..."

"Yeah? Well then why don't you cream for me, huh? Let that cute little pussy come on my cock—"

You didn't even let him finish. You'd been worked up since he got here and it hit you all at once. He watched you proudly, thin laughter ringing in your ears.

"God, you're so sensitive," he groaned, "it's gonna take me a while, baby, I'm not as young as you... takes me all night sometimes."

You shuddered; "I don't have anywhere to be..."

"Yeah you do," he corrected, starting to guide your hips as your motions faltered from the exhaustion of coming. "Your parents are probably worried about you, sweetie. They don't know what a slut you are, do they?"

You shook your head. "N-no, daddy..."

"Fuck," he breathed, "you're so cute... show daddy your tits, sweetie— lift up your shirt for me and show me your tits."

He was more than capable of doing it himself, but he preferred to watch you roll up your tank top and let him see your tits, hardened from being so turned on by all this. You'd stopped wearing a bra around him months ago, and it was all worth it as he reached up and palmed one of your breasts.

"Mm," he hummed, "you've got great tits, baby— you show them off too much, though."

He slid his hand across your chest to touch the other gently. "I only did that for you, Mr. Harrington," you promised, "I just wanted your attention... wanted you to see how grown up I am..."

He smirked. "You got my fucking attention, sweetie."

With renewed energy, you started to take control again, riding him in earnest. "Really?" you confirmed hopefully. "Did you think about me, daddy? Did you ever jerk off and think about my tits?"

He delayed his answer by hissing a little, looking down at where your pussy slid up and down on him before tilting his head back again. "Yes," he admitted, "yeah, I thought about you. I would've done it a lot more if I knew you wanted me to."

"Of course I wanted you to," you giggled, "I have such a big crush on you, Mr. Harrington, I have for so long..."

"A crush, huh?" he laughed.

You nodded eagerly, whining when he held onto you tighter and started to thrust up into you off the couch.

"You know I'm more than twice your age, right?" he reminded you with a purr, and you nodded. "You know I'm older than your dad, right?"

Your head was spinning, but you nodded again.

"And you know I could get you pregnant... right?"

You moaned, head falling back, and he laughed.

"I knew it," he gloated, "I knew that was what you wanted— knew you needed some babies fucked into you, sweet girl. Daddy's gonna knock you up, s'that what you want?"

"Yes, yes!" you sobbed.

You weren't moving at all now, you were limp and useless as he thrust up into you hard and fast, making you cry and moan so loudly he had to cover your mouth. "I'll come, fuck, nice and deep," he promised, "and give you a baby, yeah? Get you so full and pregnant, just how you want it."

You were begging him for it, but it was all muffled into nonsense under his hand as he fucked up into you rough and fast. It ended with a groan, his head falling back and his body going limp under you as he came. You collapsed onto him, both of you sinking into the couch as you caught your breath.

His hands rested on your thighs still, sometimes petting them or moving up to your waist; you shyly hid your face in the crook of his neck, hardly believing that this really happened— and terrified you would wake up and realize it was all a wonderful dream. "Think I'm gonna need you to babysit for me again tomorrow night," he broke the silence suddenly. "I'll pay double for the short notice."

"I'll do it for free," you replied.

[frankenhookersmonster]

how about steddie dick measuring contest but reader is the judge? if it leads to smut that’s okay but i know you’ll make it good regardless lol

author’s note: the premise is there i promise, i just used this as an excuse to write threesome smut because it started out as a funny idea and then my brain just melted at the thought of it

cw: 18+ (minors dni), heavy voyeurism, threesomes, unrequited crushes (steddie), established relationships with reader, unprotected sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), mentioned virgin!eddie, steve is overly confident, eddie is a sweetheart, if i missed anything lmk

word count: 4k

It started after Steve and Eddie found out that you had been sleeping with both of them—there was never any exclusivity in your relationship, and the sex with Eddie had started innocently, taking his virginity from him on his graduation night.

Every time with Eddie was something new. He was eager to try things, learn, and it made for some of the more enjoyable sex you’ve ever had. He only lacked slightly in skill, still fumbling around most of the time and getting upset when he couldn’t make you come as easily as he’d hoped.

For Steve, it was after a long-drawn out conversation about how he couldn’t find the right women, the sex was lacking, and he just wanted something—it didn’t even have to be something either of you committed to fully, as long as you two were having fun with it. Steve still went on dates every now and then, had the occasional hookup, but he always ended up back at your place most weekends using the opportunity to vent about his hardships in trying to find a partner—most of it fell on deaf ears, because as much as Steve was a great partner, he also talked about himself way too much.

He was full of himself, to be blunt—which is why this had started the conversation you were being forced to listen to currently, both of them settled on either side of the couch. You were smushed in the center, feet propped up on the table in Eddie’s living room, hands covering your face as you rested your head against the back of the couch and let out an audible groan.

“Okay but,” Eddie begins, another tumultuous conversation that was bound to go one forever if you didn’t put an end to it, “you’ve seen both of our dicks, you be the judge.”

Steve had found a pair of your underwear on Eddie’s floor a couple weeks prior, because of course he knew they were yours. He held them up accusingly, both you and Eddie sharing an awkward glance.

You really had no choice but to come clean. Thankfully, they both took it well—actually, they didn’t have any problem with it, and that’s what you couldn’t wrap your brain around. Not at first, at least.

“It’s okay,” Steve comforts, squeezing your shoulder, “be honest, Eddie can take it.”

You always hung out as a group now, never separately—and you couldn’t ignore the obvious tension that has festered. Truthfully, it felt like an attack on you. They talked about you when you weren’t around, you knew that much, having walked in on them in the middle of a particularly heated conversation about what made you come the quickest. Eddie knew it was oral, but Steve swore you faked it half the time just so he’d skip to the sex, always gawking about how good his dick felt—how big it was.

And obviously, it had boosted his ego through the fucking roof.

“Oh, fuck you.” Eddie insults lightly, leaning in to whisper against your ear, “Come on, sweetheart—let him have it.”

“Oh my god, who cares?” You ask redundantly, exasperated at the topic and almost shouting it out. “The average is—what, five? I’m pretty confident you’re both over that so what does it matter?”

“No way Munson is packing over five.” Steve nags, pointing lazily at the long haired, wide eyed boy at your side. Eddie rolls his eyes, scoffing at the comment.

“We get it, King Steve’s got a big dick.” Eddie mocks, throwing his hands up.

You snort at the nickname, “Don’t call him that.” You tell Eddie, watching as Steve’s face falls slightly. “See—he’s too confident.”

“Why are you avoiding the question then?” Steve counters, growing increasingly irritated. It’s not directed toward you, or at Eddie even, he just wants to get to the bottom of it.

“Why are you so worried that I might say it’s Eddie?” You tease, hearing Eddie howl a laugh behind you.

“Is it?” Eddie asks after he regains his composure, “I don’t even care at this point, I just need to rub it in Steve’s face.”

“Fuck this,” Steve says in a clipped tone, “Whip it out, Munson.”

“Excuse you?” Eddie asks in a subtle shock, eyes follow Steve as he stands from the couch. “Take me to fuckin’ dinner first, Steve.”

“I need to pee.” You say quickly, making a weak excuse to escape to the bathroom.

Steve holds up his hand, “No, no—you have to judge.”

You stare up at him with comically wide eyes, growling slightly under your breath when he doesn’t relent, sinking back down on the couch.

“Fine.” You agree, “Hurry up.”

Eddie flicks his gaze between you and Steve before finally settling on you, “Do you—are we actually entertaining this?”

“To be fair, I really don’t know.”

It was the honest truth.

Steve fiddles with his pants as Eddie moves a little slower, more hesitant to expose himself. Steve grew up in sports, he was used to changing in front of other guys, nudity around other’s wasn’t foreign to him—Eddie was obviously less willing, having grown up under constant scrutiny and bullying there was valid reasoning on why he didn’t want to. You gave him a look, touching his wrist as he reached for his belt.

“Steve, I don’t think this is a good idea.” You tell him as he lingers behind you, eyes still locked on Eddie as you turn to him, but something in Eddie’s face changes, a subtle smirk growing.

“Gotta shut him up somehow, right?” Eddie asks.

And they’re both on the edge of shoving their pants down, gaze noticeably locked on one another before you’re panicking, arms thrown up in an attempt to halt whatever was about to commence.

“Wait, fuck—“ You sigh loudly, slumping as they both look at you, “this isn’t fair.”

The silence is telling, both boys completely at your command.

It’s almost impossible not to have fun with this, especially if they weren’t about to let up over the whole ordeal.

“I mean—Steve is definitely a shower,” You admit, “but I don’t think it’s fair unless both of you are—“

“Hard?” Eddie finishes for you, and Steve catches on immediately, that mischievous grin matches yours.

“If you wanted a kiss so bad all you had to do was ask, sweetheart.” Steve replies with that puff in his chest, always so sure of himself.

You giggle softly, tongue poking at the inside of your cheek as you lean away from Steve’s reach, looking over at Eddie and back at him.

“Not me, Steve.” You reply sickeningly sweet, eye flicking up knowingly toward Eddie, bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

You weren’t oblivious to the interest that Steve tried so desperately to hide any time he was around Eddie—the teasing, the lingering looks, the constant need to piss him off just to keep him talking. Eddie was just as bad, constantly feeding into whatever game Steve was playing at. They had been friends before, somewhat—but whatever this had become, it brought you all closer. Though, it wasn’t your fault that they were so inherently stubborn and avoiding the fact that they, for a lack of better words, wanted to fuck each other.

And maybe that was a strong way to put it, but they almost seemed scared—scared that it would make you feel a certain way. They were both always so careful with your feelings, two of your closest friends, but your annoyance was at it’s peak and you really couldn’t take it any longer.

“Each other.” You say simply, wagging your finger between the two. “But, of course, drop the pants first.”

“That’s not funny.” Steve retorts.

Eddie shrugs, “I mean, I don’t care.”

You shrug at Steve, pointing at Eddie. “You heard him—get to smoochin’, Steve.”

Eddie laughs at Steve’s shy hesitation, yanking gently at the open hem of his pants, fingers grazing his half-hard cock.

“Come on, big boy,” Eddie teases, smirk pulling at his features, “all talk and no game—seriously?”

That’s what does Steve in, never one to back down from a challenge. He cradles Eddie’s head the same way he does yours, fingers disappearing into his long curls as he pushes toward him, slotting his top lip between Eddie’s, sucking at his bottom gingerly.

It’s just a taste—something to entice Eddie, but it doesn’t take much. He pulls back with a breath, locking eyes with him for a brief moment before diving in fully, tongue splitting Eddie’s mouth open without hesitation, hands idly working at his jeans to shove them down, underwear following as he steps out of them in a fumble, the fabric getting caught at his feet. Eddie takes a little longer, belt snapping in the air as he yanks it from the loops and strips himself too.

“Shirts too?” Steve asks, not directed at any particular person, but you answer seeing as how Eddie is so clearly distracted by Steve’s lips, his neck, the soft pattern of freckles that trace his face.

“Yeah, yeah—“ Your own breath is caught in your throat, despite how good you are at keeping your composure.

This was definitely meant as a joke, maybe a quick peck or two before you’d put an end to their misery—but that wasn’t the case at all.

You felt like you were intruding, but your body was frozen in place and part of you forget the entire cause of this, glancing down at their slowly hardening cocks, shirts being simultaneously ripped over their heads before they fell right back into, Eddie’s hands squeezing along the side of Steve’s neck as he kissed him, letting out the soft sated noises he makes when he’s enjoying himself, eyes closed shut.

Steve’s hand grazes carefully over his own cock, his fingers barely grazing the head of Eddie’s as he squeezes at the base, bringing his fingers up to drag over the tip, openly groaning into Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie chuckles, biting playfully at Steve’s lip, emitting a strained grunt from his chest—and then he’s speaking to you, startling you out of the trance you’ve fallen into, watching two of your best friend’s going after each other so eagerly.

“What’s the verdict, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, pulling away slightly to look at you. He sees the gape in your mouth, the glaze over your eyes and he can’t help it, “Oh shit—you’re into this, aren’t you?”

Steve turns his attention too, “Is that even a question? Look at her.”

“Someone had to force you two to stop ignoring what was obviously there,” You defend, “—I’m not gonna choose, by the way.”

“Oh, come on.” Steve complains, pulling away from Eddie briefly—he’s so unashamed in his nudity that he turns to you, “seriously—what’s it gonna take?”

You shrug stubbornly.

Steve glances over at Eddie, whose pupils are blown to hell with arousal.

“Your bed big enough for three, Munson?” Steve asks, sending you a vivacious smile that makes you blush, shrinking away from him slightly. “We’re gonna settle this.”

“Uh, yeah—should be.” Eddie nods, “But if we’re about to settle who’s better in bed, that’s a given.”

It was definitely not a given—because as much as you’d like to go for one or the other, they were making it impossible.

“Is this too much?” Eddie asks, shifting between your legs as he stretches your thighs open. Steve’s settled behind you, propping you up slightly as he tilts your head up, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation toward this.

“I feel like I should be asking you two that question,” You admit, smiling softly as Steve tugs at your bottom lip with his thumb, smiling down at you, “this is my fault.”

“You good with this, Harrington?” Eddie asks idly, kissing at the inside of your thigh before nipping at the skin, causing you to squirm, gasping involuntarily.

Steve nods, making an affirming noise.

“You think you can handle both of us?” Steve asks endearingly, though it’s edged with something else

“At the same time?” You ask incredulously, “No fuckin’ way—“

Eddie’s tongue slides through the center of your cunt, biting gently at your folds. “I don’t think that’s what he means.”

“Good to know it’s on your mind though,” Steve comments, “maybe we’ll try that next time.”

Eddie pulls away briefly, laughing into the apex of your thigh. Steve’s fingers trailing down your bare chest, over the pudge of your stomach until his fingers reach your clit, rubbing slow circles until he can feel your breath starting to quicken. Eddie dives back in soon after, his tongue dipping into your entrance, lapping up the thick juices, sounding shamefully wet already. His nose nudges Steve’s finger, the pressure it applies is fucking sinful, causing you to moan openly, a hand wrapping around Steve’s bicep for support. His eyes never leave your face, so when your eyes go searching, he’s right there waiting.

“So, here’s the plan,” Steve explains—and considering he’s a lot more experienced than both of you, it makes sense, “Eddie’s gonna fuck you first, then me—then you’ll have to make your decision, alright?”

“No promises.” You mumble, before Steve’s nudging your face back up again, eyes darkening.

“You will.” Steve decides, “Trust me.”

Eddie moves up, leaning back on his thighs as he rustles around in his drawer for the spare box of condoms—because in hindsight, there was no way he could’ve prepared for this. So, of course, he’s all out.

“Hey—it’s fine,” You assure him, hand pulling his face toward you, “I trust you—considering I’ve been on birth control for the past year I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

“You always make me wear condoms.” Steve grumbles from above, earning a light shove from you.

“Well, Eddie isn’t going around fucking other girls.” You tell him lightly—it doesn’t come off as catty, more matter of fact. Eddie laughs, closing the drawer.

“So, one point me,” Eddie says, pointing toward himself, before shoving a giant goose egg at Steve, “Harrington, zero.”

The conversation dies rather quickly as Eddie settles back down, nudging the head of his cock at your entrance, teasingly pressing it along your clit, sliding up through your folds in an effort to drive you mad—it always does, his face lighting up every time. Steve’s not watching you anymore either, eyes lingering toward Eddie, roaming the expanse of his body, his face. He’s never watched another man fuck before, despite his confidence. Steve’s had a threesomes before, though very few and far between, never like this. His sexuality wasn’t something he always openly discussed, no one ever questioned it either. And truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he even knew what it was. But, he was attracted to you—and Eddie.

Eddie pushes in slowly, face scrunching up in concentration as it always does—it’s almost like Steve wasn’t even there to him, his mouth coming down to latch onto your neck, kiss you gently, savor the sweet taste of your skin. Sex with Eddie is always slower, more sensual, and maybe you could enjoy it if Steve wasn’t snickering above you so flippantly.

“Dude,” Eddie complains, thrusts slowing as he glances up at Steve briefly before glancing down at you helplessly, “either get busy or get out.”

“Actually,” You pipe up, looking at Steve, “talk to him, Steve—god knows you never shut up when we’re fucking.”

Steve snorts softly, peering up at Eddie from underneath his lashes, smiling dangerously.

“It’s nice, yeah?” Steve inquires, eyebrows jutting up slightly in question, nodding toward you. “Probably the best you’ve had.”

Eddie laughs weakly, his thrusts increasing slightly as he pulls at your thighs, hooking them around his hips more securely. He was gawking up at Steve, leaving you to watch the show with baited breath, eyes squeezing shit every now and then when Eddie hit that particular spot inside of you.

“It’s the only,” Eddie admits, “but it’s fuckin’ perfect. Pussy’s fuckin’ perfect.”

And he’s never been a savant with words, but damn if that doesn’t send an immediate jolt of heat to your core, moaning brokenly.

“You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” Steve asks you, breaking his connection with Eddie briefly to glance down, “I’m not even kissing him and it’s driving you crazy.”

You nod dumbly, Steve’s attention flicking back toward Eddie.

“Tell me how she feels.”

Eddie scoffs lightly at that. Eddie’s always talkative during sex, but not in the same way Steve is—Steve is always about praise and making you blush after every other word, while Eddie has no ability to keep his burgeoning thoughts inside, telling you something annoying about his day or his favorite song that week; it’s all very mundane but it’s Eddie.

“Tight, fuck—“ He sighs, gripping your hip harshly as he moved his hips into you faster, face scrunching up slightly as he glared at Steve, who’s smirk hasn’t faded at all, “god, warm too. So fuckin’ warm and soft—“

You whimper desperately, finger squeezing into Steve’s forearm as Eddie thrusts into you, shoving you up Steve’s chest slightly, their own faces nudging together from the close proximity they were in.

Steve nods knowingly, his lips grazing Eddie’s plush ones, pulling back slightly when Eddie leans forward. “It’s not fair to her,” Steve says in a hushed tone, but you quickly respond with a shake of your head.

“Fuck, please,” You beg, “it’s so hot.”

They both laugh at that, forcing you to giggle despite how close you were to your own orgasm. Eddie presses his lips against Steve’s this time, initiating the kiss as he moves against you, fingers gripping you impossibly tighter as Steve’s tongue traces his bottom lip before slipping inside.

It’s messy, all spit and battling tongues as Eddie's hand struggles against the mattress to keep him upright, limbs shaking from execution and the coiling heat in his stomach, grunting into Steve’s open mouth.

“Gonna come,” Eddie whines, “fuck, I’m gonna come—“

“Come inside her.” He tells him.

It does Eddie in immediately, losing his rhythm. Steve’s quick, sneaky in his motions as his hand ghosts over your clit—the attention was never lacking, it’s the one thing you appreciated the most about him. Your orgasm hits you quick, fleeting, eyes connecting with Eddie briefly as he spills inside you, fingers digging into your thigh hard enough to leave bruises. Surely they would, but you couldn’t be bothered to care.

Steve rubs your arms comfortingly, chest heaving with heavy breaths as you come back down, head spinning slightly.

“Still with us?” He asks softly, rubbing his thumb along the side of your cheek until you connect eyes with him, offering him a small nod. He grins, “Good, my turn.”

Eddie moves slowly, still reeling from the intensity of it all, feeling floaty as he moves to settle behind you. Steve sits up as he takes Eddie’s place in front of you, leaning back on his heels as he lifts you up into his lap, forcing a small gasp from your chest. His fingers find your cunt, rubbing through the mix of your slick and Eddie’s as he pushes it back up inside of you where it starts to spill out.

“Good girl,” He chides, “I need you to keep it all in until we’re finished.”

Steve grips the base of his cock, pushing inside you slowly as Eddie pulls your hair aside, mouthing at the line on your shoulder, your neck, lazy and gentle kisses to remind you that he’s still there.

“Oh fuck,” Steve groans, “s’not fair—you’ve been letting Munson here fuck you without a condom and deprived me of this—“

“Stipulations, Steve.” You sigh, face scrunching up as he lifts you slightly, wrapping your legs around his hips until you have no choice but to throw over the control to him.

“Can’t help that you're a whore, Harrington.” Eddie chuckles, eyes connecting briefly as removes his lips from your skin, “—tell ‘em, sweetheart. Tell Steve how fuckin’ amazing it feels to have me inside you.”

You nod in agreement, a jerky motion of your head as Steve rams into you harshly, pulling a strained whimper from your lips, adjusting your arms around his neck for purchase. Eddie pushes in impossibly closer—Steve buries his face against the other side that Eddie isn’t occupying, leaving a faint bruise in the skin before pulling away, surprisingly met with Eddie’s lips.

“So good.” You mumble, voice barely above a whisper, words failing to reach you, gasping sharply at the feeling of Eddie’s fingers pressing against your clit, still reeling from the previous orgasm. You could feel it though, that deep seated ache in your belly that was lingering there, waiting. Eddie’s other hand is pulling at Steve’s neck, tongue forcing itself past his lips and devouring him on the spot—if there was one thing about Eddie, he could take your breath away with a kiss, which was evident in the way Steve could barely keep up, having seemingly met his match with Eddie.

“Fuck, it’s too—sensitive, I’m gonna—“ You moan devastingly loud, both of them breaking briefly to attend to you—not that they weren’t already doing so, but they’re lips are puffy and red from kissing each other and they can barely keep their eyes for one another.

You’ve created a monster—but, it was a necessary evil. They had been walking around each other for weeks, tiptoeing around the topic, becoming more and more territorial over you to rile the other one up, it was only a matter of time.

“Fuck, yeah—just like that, baby.” It’s the only nickname that Steve calls you that makes your stomach flutter, his voice softer than normal. Eddie leans in too, fingers still rubbing persistently at your clit as he breaths over your ear, murmuring a soft—

“Look at him,” Eddie comments quietly, “he’s a mess.”

And he was—for a brief second, you didn’t even recognize him. Steve was normally so well managed and put together that the helpless look on his face was completely unfamiliar. His head fell back lazily, pumping into you a finally few times before he’s coming with a soft grunt, letting Eddie work you through your second orgasm—it’s overwhelming, almost too much, feeling your nails dig into the skin of Eddie’s thigh as you curse out a string of obscenities, chest heaving as you came down.

Eddie groans slightly, falling back on his mattress as you follow into a fit of laughter, neither of you able to calm yourself until Steve is settling by your side, staring you both down with a comical look of disbelief.

“So, do you have your answer now?” Eddie interjects beside how valiantly you’ve tried to avoid the topic. “Or, do we need to go again?”

And there’s only one real way out of it.

“Yeah,” You nod, “Me.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit.” Steve quickly recovers, flipping down beside you both, shuffling his pants back on lazily, while you and Eddie couldn’t be bothered. “That’s such a cop out.”

“Are you disagreeing with me?” You press further, the lilt in your voice coming off as a warning.

Eddie laughs softly behind you, “Don’t do it, Steve. You’ll regret it.”

And for once in his life, he doesn’t have a comeback.

“Okay, but back to the original question—“

“It’s Steve.” You admit, earning a dramatic gasp from Eddie, hand clutched over his chest. “Look, you two made me choose, you can’t be mad—“

“You could always try it out for yourself, Munson—if you have doubts.” Steve teases, leaning over you slightly to peer at Eddie, eyes raking his body.

“Mmm, but don’t get your ego up,” You warn him, waving a careful finger at him before pointing at Eddie, “Eddie’s technique is—“

“Are you saying I can’t fuck?” Steve huffs out a laugh, “After that?”

“Eddie’s just—eager.” You smile knowingly, watching as Eddie blushes a deep red, his hand covering himself indecently, the blood rushing to his cock again. “Like, really eager.”

Steve grins menacingly, “Clearly.”

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[frankenhookersmonster]

barbie in the nutcracker theme for the holidays 💕

[frankenhookersmonster]

Tyler is superior to Xavier

xavier is my little meow meow sry, pathetic artsy sad boys are more my speed <3 i like tyler, at first he was a little annoying to me and then i realized he’s just a sweetie

[frankenhookersmonster]

Is this about Tyler?

not quite, im afraid...i've said too much...

[frankenhookersmonster]

i have watched wednesday…i mustn’t speak about him…

[frankenhookersmonster]

sheets - brother’s best friend!steve harrington x reader

warnings - 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, brother's best friend!steve x inexperienced!afab!reader, smut (unprotected sex [wrap it before you tap it], fingering, oral [reader receiving], p in v, loss of virginity + pain, blood), size kink if you squint, steve being a softy

word count - 3.2k

masterlist - twitter - ko-fi

got something to say? a request or concept? speak!!! 

a/n - this started as a 200 word headcanon but now we're here lmao. hope you all had a lovely thanksgiving if you celebrate :D

It was shaping up to be a boring night. You were home from college, your parents weren't home for the time being and your brother had a friend over. They kept to themselves for most of the night so you wouldn’t have to interact with them at all. 

That was until you wandered into the kitchen looking for something to drink when you saw him, Steve Harrington, slumped over a pizza box while your brother complained about something you couldn't care less about. You knew him from high school, he was in your brother's grade but to the best of your knowledge they didn't really talk to each other.

"Yeah, Steve trained me at Family Video and we've been attached at the hip ever since." Your brother explained, batting his eyelashes playfully while Steve tried to keep in his laughter.

"Wanna slice?" You looked to Steve, and nodded, taking the piece from his hand. When you skipped off to your room you could feel his eyes on your back, trailing down to your ass cheeks that peeked out of your shorts as you climbed the stairs.

Steve had always been a terrible sleeper. Once your brother had fallen asleep he found himself staring at the ceiling and decided to wander around and explore. He discovered the upstairs bathroom decorated like the beach, the wall covered in family photos and childhood artwork, and an oversized dying plant that sat in the corner of the hallway.

Eventually, Steve came across a room with light colored walls, soft looking sheets, and stuffed animals on the bed. Oh god, he thought, this was your room.

Before he could even process the thought you stood behind him in the door frame. He jumped, you apologized and invited him in. "Couldn't sleep?" Steve shrugged at your words "Me either."

Steve caught himself staring at you. Your arms held the stuffed bear in your lap as you went on about classes and your crazy roommate. "I have better friends than I did in high school, though. They're a lot nicer, and there's more of them." You giggled.

"You've probably got a smart, sweater vest wearing, ‘The Jesus And Mary Chain’ listening college boyfriend too, huh?" You both froze. Steve was surprised by his own words. Sure, he knew of you in high school and you had been talking for the better part of an hour at that point but he didn't consider the two of you to be close. Actually, he was quite close to you physically, close enough to hear you gulp when he mentioned you having a boyfriend. "Sorry, I don't know where that came from I just-"

"No it's fine, I don't have a boyfriend. Haven't ever really had anything serious actually." Steve watched as you got nervous, squeezing the bear in your grip a little tighter. Even he could feel how he was holding the blanket under him in his fist subconsciously. It was so soft, delicate.

When Steve looked up from his hands he caught you burrowing your eyes into him. Your face warmed and you bit the inside of his cheek while he chuckled.

Something about you was making Steve ache, maybe it was the implied innocence that came with your comment, or the gentleness of your room. Whatever it was made him adjust his spot on your bed. 

“But you’ve kissed a boy before, right?” He prodded, moving impossibly close to you. “Uh huh, I just,” You trailed off, averting your gaze while Steve continued staring. He could pick up on the tension in your quiet voice, and surprisingly it was making his dick strain in his plaid pants. 

“Nobody’s ever touched you, huh?” Steve took a big hand to your thigh, getting a gentle gasp from you as he did. It was a bold move, something more akin to his high school days. You had awoken something in him, and he barely knew what to do with himself. “N-No, I’ve never, I-” He cut you off with a squeeze to your skin. 

He wanted to kiss you, touch you, fuck you. Steve wanted to be your first.

Steve noticed how close you had gotten to him, the way you were unsubtly staring at his lips. He took his hand from your thigh and heard you sigh before moving the hand to your face. He pulled you closer to him and kissed your mouth softly. 

You stayed like that for a moment before Steve began to move your lips a bit. He was gentle with you, like you were fragile and might fall into pieces in his hands, though inside you felt like you just might.

“Y/n,” Steve could feel you shudder as he rested his forehead against yours. “I wanna make love to you, would you let me do that?” Your face was hot against his. “Please, Steve, please.”

Cautiously, Steve laid you down on the bed beneath you. His lips briefly returned to yours before pressing against the underside of your jaw. He nipped at the skin, taking in your scent and the desperate sounds you were making. “Never had anyone hold you like this, huh?” He could feel you shake your head. “How about we take your pants off? Would that be okay?” You didn’t give him an answer, instead you went for the jaw string of your cotton shorts and slid them down your thighs.

Steve could have fallen to his knees at the sight of your panties; pastel pink with the tiniest white bow and the biggest wet spot over your cunt. You started to get nervous when Steve got quiet, his head hovering above your crotch as he studied you intensely. “So pretty.” He whispered, slowly moving himself down to kiss you through the soaked cloth. 

You shrieked, loud enough to concern Steve. “Hey, gotta keep it down, okay? Can’t wake up your brother, alright?” You bit your lip in an attempt to suppress your groans, though Steve knew that would be little help to you.

“So fucking needy, I kissed you through your panties and it made you moan like that? How are you gonna handle it when I actually touch you?” Steve took his fingers and rubbed little circles through your underwear. You covered your own mouth, it only muffled your noises a little. Your legs kicked a bit to his sides, so Steve took his free hand to hold your thigh down.

Steve continued his slow work, taking in the sweet cries you mumbled into your pillow. He took the soft fabric into his fingers and pried them to the side, darting his eyes up to you to check in. “I’m gonna touch you without your panties, if that’s-” You interrupted, reaching a hand up to your headboard. “Okay, okay. Just do it.”

In an instant, the pad of his fingertip was pressing through your folds. You yelped, though Steve tried to shush and talk you down. “You’re so tight, baby, ‘doubt I’m gonna get another finger in there.” Your eyebrows pressed together as you sat up a bit to look at him. “But I thought you were gonna have sex with me. Can we just skip this and like, you know.” 

Steve removed his finger slowly, making your face twist up a little bit. “I gotta stretch you out if you’re gonna take my cock, babe. But I don’t even know if we're gonna get that far.” You frowned even harder and threw your head back. 

Your frustration just made Steve hell bent on fucking you. He rested himself back between your thighs and kissed them softly. Testing the waters, Steve planted a kiss on your bare pussy, absorbing your moans as he did. He worked his way to eat you out, lapping up the wetness of your cunt as his nose nudged your clit. You bit down on your lip so hard you thought it might bleed. 

All you had known was your own fingers, occasionally the plushness of a pillow between your legs, but nothing could compare to the feeling of Steve’s mouth, his lips, his tongue. You were addicted, maybe a little determined because you figured the only thing that could top that feeling might have been the dick Steve was pressing into the mattress.

Your stomach turned in a familiar way, one of your hands held Steve’s shoulder. “I-I’m gonna cum, Steve. God, don’t stop.” His hands came to your hips and pressed down as he continued to lick you. Your orgasm came quickly after, and Steve moaned through your body while you came. You tugged at his hair, his famous locks that had the entirety of Hawkins High School in a chokehold not too long ago. But he was older now, mature, no longer that hot senior you saw striding through the halls. Back then he was untouchable, but now he was in your arms, eating up your arousal.

When Steve looked up at you, his face was damp, his mustache shiny with your slick. He licked his lips, wiping his cheeks with his hands and sucking the wetness off of his fingers. 

“Steve,” He hummed at you as he kept licking his fingers, the sight of which made you want to groan, “can you make love to me now, like you said you would?” He shot you an empathetic smile, pulling himself up to your eye level. “Y/n, I don’t know if it’ll fit, baby. It might hurt you.” You scoffed at him and crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled, pressing lips to your collarbone.

“Can we at least try, please?” He had only really known you for a short amount of time but he couldn’t say no to you. The idea of being the first person inside of you, the first person to fully feel all of you, was hard to say no to. 

Without another word Steve was sitting up and removing his clothes, first his shirt, shortly after his pants. You could see the outline of his dick in his boxers, it suddenly made you aware of how serious he was about not fitting. Shoving the thought down, you took off your own shirt and revealed your bare breasts. Steve’s eyes lit up, mouth practically salivating at the view.

He carefully rested on top of you and started kissing you again. Steve’s hands found your tits pretty quickly, giving them a good squeeze that made you groan into his mouth. As nice as his touch was, you were starting to get impatient. “Steve, I need it, fuck.”

“Okay, okay, just tell me if it’s too much. If it hurts at all we’ll stop, alright?” You exhaled harshly. “Okay.”

Steve started to line himself up at your entrance, switching his glance from between your legs to your eyes to check in. You looked so pretty, he thought, so eager for him to ruin you. 

His dick twitched as the tip felt through your folds. They felt like velvet on his cock, he couldn’t help the loud, guttural moan that fell from his lips.

Quickly he gathered himself, looking to you to make sure you were alright. Your mouth was agape, eyes rolled back into your skull, tears were starting to form. “Everything okay?” One of his hands came to caress your cheek as you nodded. “Mhm, yeah.”

Steve was right, the further he pressed into your cunt the more it hurt. You knew the pleasure was coming soon though, it had to.

He bottomed out, the entire length of his cock shoved deep into your pussy. “Gonna stay like this for a little bit, okay?” Steve kissed your ear, pushing back stray hairs and mumbling praises into your skin. Steve’s heavy breathing consumed you completely, you

You felt your eyes start to water, the pressure from Steve’s heavy cock was overwhelming. He frowned, his fingers rested on your scalp. “What’s wrong?”

“It hurts.” You confessed. It was frustrating, something as simple as sex was bringing you to tears. You were grown, everyone you knew had no issue with this kind of stuff, it didn’t make sense why you were having such a hard time.

Steve sat up a little bit, taking a better look at your shivering body. “Do you want me to pull out?” You shook your head. “Different position?” You thought for a moment before shaking your head again. 

“What if I'm super gentle?” You found Steve’s eyes then, big and brown and kind. You nodded, whimpering out a ‘please’ as he leaned down to lock your lips. It was short lived, interrupted by him sitting up and pulling out of your pussy. You sighed in defeat, watching as Steve spit into his hand and rubbed his cock that was already covered in your slick.

He readjusted in between your legs, carefully reinserting himself. You were better prepared this time and the small amount of lubricant he added made the stretch slightly easier. Steve stayed put for a moment, holding you tightly underneath him. He kept his eyes on yours as he pulled out just a bit before pushing back in, creating a steady and slow pace. “How’s it feeling?”

Though you tried to keep your cool, it was still a little painful. You tried to say anything but the word’s weren’t forming, but he seemingly got the message. Steve kissed your neck, sucking at the skin experimentally and biting down harder as you moaned.

“So fucking beautiful.” Steve mumbled into your shoulder, giving your thighs a tight squeeze. You shrieked, Steve’s hand quickly came to clamp down on your mouth. “Don’t want your brother to come in, baby.” His palm stayed in place as he rocked back and forth. 

Your bedroom was filled with the sounds of your muffled whimpers and your bed frame rutting against the wall. Steve would shush you every now and then, cursing under his breath. 

It was intimate, an act of love and appreciation though you had only known the guy for such a short time. You were glad Steve was there, not for the bragging rights of him taking your virginity, but for how sweet he was. It was unexpected, just from the look of him you had figured his love life was just a string of loveless hookups, but here he was kissing your face and telling you how pretty you were. 

Absentmindedly, you mumbled out “M’so happy you’re my first, Steve.”

You could feel Steve’s cock twitch inside of you, his brain short circuited. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and letting out a heavy breath. “F-feel good?” He stuttered. You hummed into his hair, quickly realizing it wasn’t a lie, you did feel good.

Quickly, Steve brought his fingers to your clit. You began to moan, though he shut you up quickly with a rough kiss. It was passionate, a little sloppy like his thrusts were becoming, your lips were soon wet with his spit.

Steve continued to rub little circles in your cunt, fucking you faster with his cock. You were whining, but neither of you seemed to care. Both of you were chasing your highs, the idea of your brother sleeping peacefully down the hall was long forgotten about.

Your pussy squeezed him unintentionally, forcing a moan out of him. Steve wasn’t very vocal, but part of you wished that he was after the cry he let out. 

“You’re gonna cum, I can feel your-fuck.” His head hung down and got his hair in your face, the softness of his locks tickled your forehead. “Go’head, cum on me babe.”

You creamed around his dick, locking your legs behind Steve’s back and hugging him tightly. He helped you ride out your orgasm before pulling out quickly and sitting on his knees. “Can I come on you?” He sputtered.

He looked so pretty like that, fucked out and sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead. He continued jerking himself off, his panting drowned out by the wet sounds of his hand around his cock. You nodded your head as you tried to catch your breath, sitting up on your arms to see him better.

Hot cum spat onto your stomach. Steve’s eyes were screwed shut, he mumbled something incoherent as he tugged at himself. You looked at him with wide eyes, your cheeks grew warm as he came back down from his high.

Once he finished and began to blink his eyes open, you dragged a finger across your belly to pick up a small bit of his seed before bringing it to your mouth and sucking on it hard. As the saltiness mixed with your saliva, Steve looked down at you in awe. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead, then your nose and finally your lips.

When Steve cleaned you off, he left little pecks on your skin. He took time on your inner thighs, noticing how it made you squirm. He mumbled an apology before pressing a wet kiss close to your swollen cunt. 

He balled up the towel in his hands once he finished. It was one he found in the bathroom cabinet after you gave him out of breath directions, a small old one with color drained purple bows printed on and a rip in the corner. “You bled a little bit. You’re probably gonna be hurting for a day or two.” He mentioned before tossing it in your laundry bin. You saw a bit of red flash by before it disappeared into your dirty clothes and Steve crawled into your bed with a shirt and pair of underwear for you.

You laid next to each other, your only contact with him being your hooked pinkies.

“Was it good for you?” Steve whispered, turning onto his side. “It was so good, thank you.” You brought a hand up to his hair and stroked it. “W-was it good for you, though?” You stuttered, only swiveling your head a bit.

Steve chuckled and took your chin in his hand, rubbing your face gently enough to tickle you. “It was good for me, too.” 

“You’re lying.” You frowned, adjusting to look at the ceiling again. There was no way you were good at sex, and from what you knew Steve had a lot of it before you. He was experienced, and it was impossible for you to be considered anything but mediocre to him. All you did was lay there and whine.

“M’not.” Steve’s voice was louder as he sat up to hover above you. “You made me feel good, babe. Swear to god.” He lifted a hand with a laugh before kissing your cheek. “And I wanna fuck you again sometime, if you’d let me.” Butterflies erupted from your belly when maneuvered himself back down onto the mattress and brought you into his chest.

He held you for a while, not even speaking as you listened to each other breathe. He noticed yours even out soon after, looking down to see you fast asleep.

Steve tucked you in, noticing the stains left on your soft, fluffy seats and blushing. He deflowered you, and to his surprise that fact turned him on. 

He dressed himself and turned your light off, leaving one last kiss on your hairline before wandering back to your brother’s room. He was still fast asleep, mouth opened and drool spilling onto his pillow. 

He felt a little sting of guilt, though he pushed it out with thoughts of you spread out taking his cock, the moans you cried out for him to fuck you. Steve crawled under a blanket on the air mattress, quickly drifting off to sleep as those images swirled around his head.

taglist - click here to be added!: @peter1ismybrother @strangerthingsfangirlsuntie @molllybc​ @hopeless-ronancetic @lizzymatryoshka​ 

[frankenhookersmonster]

why did this post at 3:30am??? lmao it’ll be out at 4pm est <3

steve fic in half an hour >:)

[frankenhookersmonster]

steve fic in half an hour >:)

[frankenhookersmonster]

and if i told you im actually posting a fic tomorrow? o.O

[frankenhookersmonster]

thinking about doing a twilight theme...

[frankenhookersmonster]

his hands are so fucking massive it makes me dizzy

[frankenhookersmonster]

almost done with this steve one shot but now i can’t stop thinking about perv!eddie my god

[frankenhookersmonster]

alive and well thinking about him unfortunately

[frankenhookersmonster]

when i when when it the when it when when when i fuck i when it when

Smut request for Eddie, but I’m worried you might think it’s too close to your single!dad series! But I’m just gonna give it to you anyway because you’re my favorite smut writer. Dad!eddie and babysitter!reader? (Obviously 18+)

author’s note: it’s not at all!! i really wanted to try out something a little different so hopefully this isn’t terrible lol. i hope you enjoy!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), large age gap (21 & 36), dad!eddie, power dynamic (but it’s still pretty balanced, just given the content), virgin!reader, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, all the sex stuff—don’t come into my inbox with bs, if you don’t like, don’t read. but if you do, ily.

word count: 5.6k

Eddie liked to think that with being older came more wiser thoughts, actions—but through experience, he was still fumbling his way through life the same way he had back when in his early twenties, fresh out of high school and making the decent money that he could between shifts at the plant with Wayne, who had to nearly bribe his boss to give him the job, and the small shows he kept up with Corroded Coffin—not that it ever brought in a lot of money.

But, it did bring him to the life he had now; nearing his late thirties, fresh divorcee and a spirited young daughter to prove it. He couldn’t even believe it himself half the time—marriage was never something he planned out, or kids, or searching for babysitters instead of opting to force his child into daycare—spending hours looking through possible prospects, vetting them thoroughly. It felt like he was living a dream most of the time, until reality plopped down on his lap with a giant grin on her face, stray curls cascading down her forehead.

“Do you have to go, daddy?” His daughter asks, “Can’t you play another night?”

Any shows he did now were more for his own enjoyment—monthly shows at a small bar at the edge of town. They gathered a decent crowd and lended to Eddie meeting some very friendly ladies, not that he cared that much.

He had his eyes elsewhere and it was a damn shame nothing would come of it—as horrible as he felt about.

“Sorry, sweetie—I made a promise.” He explains to her, trying his best to lay it out in her terms, “You know I can’t break promises.”

You step through the door only a few moments after, overnight bag snug over your shoulder as you squealed gleefully at his daughter—her previous qualms about Eddie leaving disappearing in an instant.

“You could stay home and play board games with us!” She suggests excitedly, pulling at your hand. You smile knowingly at Eddie, it was typical behavior that didn’t surprise either of you.

“Yeah, Mr. Munson—she’s a pro at connect four, believe me.”

You say his name the way he hates, the way you know he hates. He’s told you time and time again—Eddie. It’s Eddie.

It felt like you were doing it on purpose most of the time.

And so what if you were?

“Oh, I do.” He smiles smugly, crinkling his nose toward the young girl as he fetches his keys from the letting. “Her mom said she might come tonight—maybe in the morning. I can never really predict her, but you’re fine with staying the night just in case, right?”

“I did bring my bag for a reason.” You retort with a playful tease to your tone, swinging the back around as you drop it on the empty loveseat. “You know I don’t have a problem with it.”

“I just—there’s no telling how tonight is going to go.” Eddie admits.

There was no telling how drunk he was going to get—that’s what he means to say. Your eyebrow quirks up in interest and Eddie only shakes his head. There was never any judgment—his life was his life. But, being so young and naive still, it made you wonder how life could really be as you grew older. Eddie seemed to be happy; great friends, nice house, a small but close knit family, he had it all.

Eddie felt the monotony set in the moment he tied himself down to his ex-wife, but being newly single—it had sparked something inside him that wouldn’t die out. Maybe it was an early midlife crisis, a lapse of judgment, but it made him want the things he knew he couldn’t have.

The clues weren’t there initially either. Eddie was as respectful and stern as you expected when you first met, scrutinizing and over-examining every part of your life—you were the secondary protector of his daughter outside of him, it only seemed fair.

But, things took a slow turn as you started to come around more—dinners were occasional, cigarettes out on the porch before you drove home, small talks about what you had to deal with while he was away that soon turned into Eddie being more open with his personal life, and in turn, yours.

There wasn’t a part of his life that was much of a secret anymore—you knew the dirtiest details, the saddest ones. He confided in you a little too easily, but you were just as much at fault for letting it happen.

The first night things shift, you keep telling yourself it’s not actually happening. You had your keys in hand, ready to step out the door until Eddie grasps at your wrist, nodding you back in for a glass of wine, Chardonnay, or whatever the hell he kept around in his cabinet.

“I…don’t drink wine, Eddie.” You say wearily, not complaining about the tug on your wrist as you follow him.

“I forget—you probably like beer, don’t you?” He teases, “At least I did at your age.”

Admittedly, you were twenty one—so it wasn’t like you were doing anything wrong per-say. You had graduated, opted out of college, and made most of your living through odd jobs and nannying—Eddie’s was probably the most stable you’ve been, even if you weren’t a live-in. You saw his daughter nearly everyday, dealt with his chaotic ex-wife as often as he did, and it felt like you had embedded yourself in his life. Eddie couldn’t complain, he liked having you around.

“I—I really shouldn’t.” You say regretfully, twisting the key in your hand. Eddie senses your nervousness, leaning an arm out against his open fridge. “I have to drive home and I—“

“Just one.” Eddie barters, holding up the two frosted bottles, “You don’t have to finish it if you don’t want to.”

You smile slightly, nodding despite your better judgment.

“Fine. One.” You say sternly, “And you still have to pay me for this week, don’t think I forgot.”

“Can you stretch it a week?” He asks, “I promised the little devil I’d get her that guitar she’s been begging for and her birthday is in a couple days.”

“I know.” You tell him obviously, but the smile you return is sweet. “But that’s fine—just, next week for sure. I have to pay rent.”

“Promise.” He grins, a perfect smile that has you clenching your thighs together every time. “Cheers.”

The clink of the bottles is deafening and Eddie moves to the corner of the counter where you take your seat in the barstool, leaning his torso over as he sips at the beer.

Being close wasn’t strange—you’ve sat next to him on the couch, at the dinner table, but the air is so thick you feel it caught in your throat. Your eyes flick up as the bottle tips to your lips, letting out a small giggle as he tips it up with his finger, a small amount of the liquid trickling down the side of your mouth.

You recover with a small cough, shoving at him weakly.

“Hey, that’s not nice.” You say, feigning annoyance. “You’re wasting a perfectly good beer.”

“Sorry,” He lies, taking a long chug of his own before placing it down on the counter. “So, plans for the weekend?”

He asked every week, it wasn’t strange to you. Eddie always seemed genuinely interested, but for some reason, it didn’t feel like that now—and maybe he was just stringing you along to keep you here, but you played into it so well.

You wanted it—maybe not as bad as him, but it was there.

“No,” You say shyly, shaking your head, “Just my bed and a couple movies. Same old thing.”

“No bars? No clubs?”

“Nope.” Your lips pop around the consonant, taking a small slip before shoving the bottle toward the middle. “They don’t interest me.”

“Come on,” He prys playfully, “There’s gotta be something you do for fun, sweetheart?”

And it was the same thing he had called you after a week of taking in the job, a kind endearment that didn’t make you feel any certain way, a sweet way to differentiate from calling you by your name, but it sits on his tongue like sin—begging for you to lick it off, let him defile you the way he desperately wanted to. It wasn’t lost on either of you how tense the air had become—it was Eddie’s web and he had you caught.

And as much as you enjoyed it, tonight just wasn’t the night.

He’d had a bit too much to drink, alcohol dripping from his breath.

“That is fun.” You insist, “Some of us don’t need to go out to the club and relive our younger years to feel good, you know?”

It’s meant with all the care in the world, a playful jab for how insistent he was being in keeping you here tonight, dragging out the conversation instead of getting to the point.

You would’ve been more satisfied if he had just kissed you at the door and let you leave, but then again, this was pretty enjoyable.

“You’ve never seen me play,” Eddie points out, “I think you’d really enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I would,” You agree before shaking your head slightly, “but I wouldn’t be caught dead at that bar.”

Eddie makes a face, a little taken aback at the insult.

“How come?” He asks curiously.

“A bunch of creepy old men who stick around to prey on the younger girls who sit and watch you play—no thank you.”

Eddie laughs through his nose, leaning into your space slightly.

“What about me?” He asks, wide eyes glazed over in a haze.

“Creepy? No.” You assure him. “Old—-eh?”

“I’m thirty six, that hurts.” Eddie pouts slightly.

“So old,” You reinforce, “We should probably put you into a retirement home already.”

“I can promise you, sweetheart.” Eddie says menacingly, bottom lip pulling between his teeth briefly to nip at the skin. “Nothing about me is old.”

Your eyebrows raise in subtle interest, leaning forward slightly.

“I could show you.” He suggests, eyes glancing down at your lips briefly before catching your gaze. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath, see the freckles on his face this close, faint but there. “If you want.”

He can see the gears in your head turning, deciding. But, it quickly fades as you pull back, his lips barely brushing yours.

“I have to go.” You tell him again, insisting more sternly despite how kind your voice sounds. “Eddie, we can’t.”

He looks instantly dejected, pulling back slightly and rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. He’d forget this in the morning surely, his words had been slurring together most of the night and he wouldn’t have acted so boldly otherwise—would he?

“Let me walk you.” He insists, sliding your bottle toward the trash, his own following until the clink to the bottom.

The walk is slow, palpable, his toes on your heels as he hovers behind you. He grabs the door handle before you can reach for it, pulling it open silently.

“Tell her happy birthday for me?” You ask hopefully, knowing you wouldn’t be around in the day despite how much you wanted to be. “Please?”

Eddie nods quietly, lips pursed together in a tight line.

“Yeah, of course.” He assures you. “Goodnight.”

You lean up on your toes as you turn, caution to the window as you press a chaste kiss to his cheek, stubble rubbing against the sensitive skin of your lip. You can feel the sigh Eddie releases as you make contact, his hand coming to rest against your hip gently, a featherlight touch that if you were to have blinked you would surely miss.

“Goodnight.” You smile, words spoken against his skin.

It’s the same touch Eddie reminds himself of as he tightens his hand around his cock that night, stretched out and writhing on his bed in the loneliness of his empty house—and god did he wish you were there to keep him company.

His ex-wife shows up an hour before midnight, a lot more put together than you’d usually expect, but she fetches her daughter without fuss, leaving you to clean up the mess left behind.

It doesn’t take long, only a little over a half an hour—and your immediate thought is to leave, get the hell out of there, enjoy your weekend like you planned, but you still hadn’t been paid for the week prior, and you’d be damned if Eddie didn’t follow through like he promised.

“Hey—“ His voice is soft as he shakes you away, your figure hunched over the arm of the couch where you napped briefly, peering up at him through bleary eyes. You poured slightly, his face becoming clearer by the second, “did she pick her up?”

He looks surprisingly sober, which is unusual for him.

Admittedly, it was a weird night. His mind had been racing all day, he didn’t play as well as he’d wanted, and he spent the entire night hoping you’d still be there when he got home.

At least one thing has gone right for him.

“What time is it?” You ask, avoiding the question.

“A little after midnight.” He tells you, watching as you leaned up from your reclined position, adjusting your clothes and smoothing out your hair as best you could.

“Uh yeah—yeah, an hour ago.” Your speech is slow and spacey, “Why?”

“Well, I figure you would have left already.” Eddie says admittedly, running a hand through his tousled curls, the hairstyle never changed—and you were kind of grateful for it.

You’d seen pictures of him younger, mid-twenties and dating all the way back to his first day of high school—he didn’t look all that different aside from the slight aging in his face, worry lines buried into the corner of his eyes and that light scruff he wore every now and then when he didn’t shave for a week.

“You still need to pay me.” You retort with a tinge of annoyance, holding your hand out expectantly.

Eddie snorts, reaching for his wallet and slapping the fold of bills into your hand. He hadn’t forgotten at all.

“Did you have a good time?” You ask curiously, stuffing the money in your wallet before burying it back into the back placed on the coffee table, kicking your feet up behind you on the cushion as you stared up expectantly.

You could’ve fled immediately after he handed over the cash, but something was telling you otherwise. Eddie frowned slightly but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“It was alright.” He tells you halfheartedly, “I hope my kid didn’t give you too much of a hard time, she can be a little, uh—“

“She’s never a problem for me.” You assure him.

There’s a long beat of silence as Eddie lingers about, hands shoved in his pocket as he leans against the wall. You hadn’t talked about that night, hadn’t even mentioned it, but it was still heavy on your mind—and hopefully just as heavy on his.

You pat the cushion next to you expectantly, friendly—it wasn’t out of the ordinary or weird, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate as he throws himself down lazily, stretched out at the other corner as he kicks his shoes off and onto the floor, smiling at you like he always did.

“No groupies tonight?” You tease, knowing he’d had a few experiences with them, none of them memorable or positive.

They were always messy and weird and everything he hated.

Eddie mocks a laugh and rolls his eyes slightly, “I shouldn’t have gone out tonight anyways, too much on my mind.”

You give him a skeptical look, turning to him fully with your arms bugged around your legs, chin tucked up by your knees. He tries to ignore how innocent you look, wide eyes and eager, hanging on his every last word.

“You wouldn’t understand.” He excuses, letting out a deep, heavy sigh as he rests his head against the back of the couch, legs spreader unnecessarily wide. Your eyes draw to the stretch in his jeans near his groin, quickly darting up to meet his gaze with a soft smile.

“Try me.” You shrug, tongue poking out slightly between teeth as you bite down gently, “You’d be surprised.”

Eddie huffs again, a mix between a laugh and flippant noise of dismissal, “Come closer.” He suggested, motioning toward the cushion positioned between you two. You crawled forward without question, resuming a similar position. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No—this couch feels amazing, actually.” You tell him honestly.

“Sweetheart.” He says like a prayer, head tilted down slightly despite how his gaze still stays. “That’s not what I mean.”

And he’s not drunk—stone cold fucking sober, actually. That’s what intimidates you the most, his willingness to do whatever he felt he needed to have you. It wasn’t just the influence of fuzzy inhibitions. It was genuine, selfish want. Something he knew he shouldn’t have, couldn’t have—yet here you were.

“Around you?” You ask, he nods slowly. “Never.”

The touch he returns is careful, fingers wrapping around your ankle gently, rubbing soft touches into the skin. You follow his movements, the silence lingering.

“And now?” Eddie asks quietly, eyes flicking toward you briefly before returning back to his slowly moving hand.

A slow drag of his middle finger up your calf, up under the curve of your knee until he can wrap his fingers around it and widen your legs slightly, arms spilling from where they’re snug and tight around you, forcing you to sit up slightly. There’s no resistance when he pushes your legs apart, eyes darting toward the apex of your thighs. Your breath catches slightly, hands falling behind you in an effort to keep you upright. You’ve never been more thankful than to have chosen a dress on a night like this and Eddie can’t even act like he’s able to keep it together, thin lace panties on display before his very eyes.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks when you don’t answer his first question, your chest rising and falling rapidly at his lingering touch, guiding along the inside of your thigh. The leg that isn’t bracketed against the back of the couch falters to the floor, spreading you so wide that Eddie has no other choice but to rub his fingers over the clothed mound of your cunt, pulling a soft gasp from your chest. “Answer me.”

“Nono,” You rush out embarrassingly quickly, “please, don’t.”

It’s exactly what he wants to hear. Needy, desperate—everything he was feeling just as intensely.

“Have you ever been touched like this?” He asks, words careful and precise, his movements as such, dragging a single finger down the seam, pressing into the growing spot of wetness there.

And you can’t take your eyes off of him, same as he does for you, it’s so much more than admiring your body, rather admiring the way you react to his touches, taking it all in. Your mouth hangs slightly, soft breathy gasp escaping.

You shake your head shyly. As much as you would’ve liked to lie and say you had tons of experience, you didn’t. Most of the time you lied, afraid of the ridicule, but you’d been saving yourself for someone special—and if that was Eddie, so be it.

His finger curves around the barrier of your underwear, forcing it to the side until there’s skin against skin and he feels it, if he wasn’t attempting be so coy he’d make a comment about how wet you already were, but the words are lost on him as he drags a finger through the pool of wetness and presses gently against your clit, unmoving as he watches you.

“Is this okay?” He checks in again. There was never a doubt in his mind, but he needed to ask for reassurance, to know that he wasn’t just dreaming again. “Do you like it?”

You bite harshly at your bottom lip, nodding a fervent yes in response. The heat invades your face, your eyes, practically your entire body as it flushes under Eddie’s gaze. The tension had always been there, but it had finally snapped and you couldn’t help but stare at him now, watching as his face contorted into his own version of pleasure, idly running his open palm over the front of his pants, palming his growing cock as it sat heavy in his jeans.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” He encourages, “Don’t go shy on me now.”

You giggle softly—it was completely unlike you, knowing you talked his ear off every chance you had, but there wasn’t a single word or thought in your head that made sense right now.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize meekly, “I don’t know what—what to say.”

Eddie smiles warmly, head resting back against the couch as he slips a finger inside you wordlessly, just the beginning of his first knuckle, not enough of an intrusion to make you feel anything.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” He says softly, “how you feel, maybe?”

“Good,” You chirp quickly, “I’m okay.”

His finger pushes in more, breaching past the tight entrance and you gasp, finally breaking eye contact as your head luls back, gaze caught on the ceiling as he moves slowly, pulling his finger out gently before pushing back in—it’s torture, count throbbing with every movement he made. You could hear the soft ruffle of fabric, metal against metal and a zipper being undone and when you finally have the courage to look up, you’re not sure you’ll ever recover.

It’s not the first dick you’ve seen and you’re not sure it will be the last, but you can’t help staring and taking it all in. They’re never pretty or enticing or enough to make your mouth water—but with Eddie, that’s all out the window.

He’s thick, cut, and everything that intimidates you. He’s confident in the way he holds him, let’s spread wide as his hands come down to cup his balls gently before traveling up his shaft, squeezing over the sensitive head.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He coos, pulling his working fingers out to glide over your clit, rubbing soft and timid circles until you’re moaning out his name—it’s like music to his ears. “You’ve really never done anything?”

“I’ve—I’ve kissed boys.” You admit, “And girls—but never, never—“

“Never let them touch you,” He finishes for you, “have you?”

You nod, affirming his statement.

“Can I have you?” He asks softly, voice sweet and dripping with adoration, “I want you to be sure, don’t lie to me.”

And you can’t even properly describe how badly you’ve wanted him. It felt like crossing a line—like sleeping with your boss, but lust wins you over.

You nod slowly, “Yes. Just—I don’t know what I’m doing, not really. I don’t want to screw anything up.”

“There’s not much to it,” He comforts, removing his hand from your aching cunt and grabbing your own hand, guiding it over his dick, pulling his shirt up slightly where the tip rests against his lower stomach. You always forget how toned he is, how well he takes care of his body, always hiding himself under his work clothes and suits, “I’ll talk you through, okay?”

“Okay.” You answer, letting him squeeze your fingers around the shaft, dragging your hand up slightly before pulling back down, creating a slow rhythm. He grunts softly, eyes half-lidded as he continues the motion until he thinks you’ve got it, resting his hand over your thigh, traveling up until he can squeeze at the curve of your hip, feet tucked under you as you lean over his lap slightly. It’s like soft velvet against your even softer fingertips—Eddie notices the difference immediately, used to his horrible calloused hands all worked and worn out from his jobs, the joints aching with age. It gets the job down, but it’s never as good as this. Ever.

It does grow boring though—not that you didn’t enjoy every soft sound and subtle face that Eddie made when you squeezed him a little too harshly or teased your thumb over the head of his cock, swirling through the oppulescent precome heading at the tip.

“Can I—“ The words catch in your throat when his eyes lick on, peeking out from under his previously closed eyelids.

He sees the way you glance toward his dick, smiling at your bashful awkwardness and nods, “If you ask nicely, that is.”

He’s only teasing, but he loves watching you squirm, trying to find the courage to ask for what you want. You’re always so confident, sure of yourself—it’s one of the reasons Eddie adored you so much, there was never any doubt with you. He never had to worry.

“Please?” You retort playfully, watching as Eddie’s grin grew wider, “Please, Eddie?”

He nods, urging you down between his spread legs, forcing his jeans down further until he can remove them fully, letting you settle until you're comfortable.

You expect it to feel a little awkward, peering up at him as he does down to you, cock still heavy in your hand as he pushes your hair away, gathering it into his hands skillfully—but truthfully, the feeling never approaches.

You’ve talked to your friends about it before, seen small clips in porn, and none of it ever really made sense, and especially not now as you’re sitting between his legs, staring at his dick and hoping that you weren’t about to make a complete full of yourself.

“Don’t laugh.” You tell him, a small pout forming on your face.

“Never, sweetheart.” He comforts you, free hand rubbing the underside of your chin, following as your lips draw forward, closing over the head of cock, swirling your tongue testingly over the tip, through the slit to taste the salty slick of him that had formed there. Eddie groans softly, the first real noise he’s made all night, face scrunching up in concentration as he cradled your head, hair and all, as you moved your way down, taking him sparingly into your mouth until your lips connected with the hand you had around him, covering what you couldn’t reach.

“That’s it.” He compliments, “Fuck, that’s perfect.”

You barely acknowledge him, but given how hard you were trying to concentrate on not fucking up, he understood. His words flowed freely, openly, and once they started they never stopped.

“Look at you, so pretty with my dick in your mouth.” Eddie says softly, pulling your chin forward slightly from where he had a tight grip on your face, forcing you deeper. You gagged slightly, breathing through your nose. “Hold it, sweetheart. I know you can.”

If you weren’t so eager to please, you would’ve pulled away immediately, but you allow him to hold you there, cock heavy on your tongue until you can’t take it anymore, pulling away with a harsh gasp, lips shining obscenely as you stared up at Eddie.

It’s the same look he had the first time he met you, but a sharp edge of something more, something dangerous.

“Stand up,” He instructs, a guiding hand running along your thigh as you go, fingers delving under your dress to pull at your underwear, slipping the fabric down your legs carefully. He flips the fabric of your dress up, dragging the soft surface of his lips along your upper thigh, eyes following you the entire way, “good, sweetheart—can I taste you?”

You nod quickly, hands cautiously running over the top of his head and through his thick curls, whimpering soundly at the way he chuckles, deep and gruff against your cunt, raising your leg over his shoulder carefully, his hands resting at your back to steady you.

It’s like scolding hot fire with the first touch, his tongue delving deep and running up your cunt, ghosting along your clit as he bites playfully at your folds, looking up at you sparingly to gauge your reaction.

You couldn’t even act like you were able to keep it together, moaning unabashedly as the hands in his hair soon traveled down his back, body curling over him slightly as he made it his mission to torture you relentlessly, sucking at your sensitive clit until you’re softly tapping at his back, silently begging for a break while the words are still caught in your throat.

“Tapping out already?” He teases, squeezing the soft globes of your ass. You shake your head defiantly, peaking his interest

“I want you,” You tell him coyly, “I’ve been thinking about it and—“

“Oh, hey—“ He soothes, “That’s special, you don’t have to give that to me, sweetheart. You’ve already given me plenty.”

Another defiant head shake, shoving his hands away as you took a careful seat on his lap, his eyes following you intensely, arms held out at his side as you seated yourself against his cock, the heat of your cunt striking his body with the reality of this situation.

“No, you don’t get to do that.” You tell him, noticing the concerned look on his face, “I’m capable of making my own decisions.”

Eddie smiles slightly, reaching up to cradle the side of your face tenderly. He can see the subtle pout on your face, bottom lip poking out slightly—and he feels the overwhelming want to kiss you, force it off of your face. So, he does.

And he kisses with a forcefulness you’ve never felt—he’s not timid or unsure. Eddie’s confident, given his experience, he had no reason to doubt himself. You whimpering softly, his teeth pulling your bottom lip in, tongue sneaking its way in and tasting the saltiness of himself on you. He pulls away briefly, nose bumping yours.

“One problem, sweetheart,” Eddie starts regretfully, “I don’t have any condoms—I’m not really used to using them anymore.”

You shake your head fervently, “That’s not a problem.” You assure him, “Trust me.”

You didn’t need to explain and Eddie didn’t feel the need to ask—it wasn’t hard to piece the information together. But god, he’s never been more thankful for modern medicine.

“You sure?” Eddie asks again, lips grazing yours as he speaks, chin resting against his fingers, rubbing delicately at your skin. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Eddie,” You chide softly, “I want you to fuck me.”

He laughs at that, your boldness startling him slightly.

And he doesn’t need to be told more than once, taking control of the situation as he lifts your hips, bracing you over the head of his cock, allowing you to ease down at your own pace. It’s nothing like you were expecting, more of a dull sting if anything—but the filling of fullness, it’s overwhelming.

You rock your hips gently, watching as Eddie’s eyes fell to the place where you were joined with him, dress lifted up slightly as he reached for your clit, rubbing gentle circles to distract your wandering mind—and it works perfectly, gasping when you feel him deep, buried inside you as the back of your thighs hit his lap.

“God, you’re fucking perfect.” He comments idly, eyes falling shut as he leaned back—and it’s infuriating that you can’t see his chest, hidden behind the buttons of his shirt; a ridiculous black button up, making him look well beyond his years. You yank at the buttons with steady hands until the skin peeks through and you can shove the shirt off his shoulders, hands placed firmly against his chest.

You’ve never seen his tattoos this close, not that you could focus much now, but your hand closes over the one of his chest and your blunt fingertips dig into the skin as you lift your hips and seat yourself just as swiftly, punching a ragged groan from the both of you.

“Knew you’d be this good,” Eddie admits, “Thought—thought about it every fucking night.”

“Oh?” You challenge softly, “Tell me?”

Eddie nods, though the struggle to remain cool is evident on his face, losing his focus every time you clench around him, grunting with every little movement you make.

“Just like this,” He admits, “taking me so fucking well, too.”

You nod in agreement, humming as you leaned forward to drag your lips along his jawline, “Like…I was made for you?” You ask teasingly, giggling at his airy groan.

“You’re fucking devious,” Eddie retorts, “not nearly as innocent as I thought you’d be.”

His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you impossibly deeper, closer, and you can’t bother to keep yourself upright, letting him do the work, hips snapping into you with force.

“What—what do you mean?” You stammer through broken gasps, “I’m so innocent, Eddie.”

“Not a chance,” Eddie disagrees, eyes squeezing tight as he buried his face into your neck, sucking a faint bruise into the skin, “be honest with me.”

“I wasn’t—wasn’t lying.” You respond, words dying out on a desperate plea, his hand snaking between you both, rubbing insistent circles over your clit. “I don’t do this stuff—was waiting for the right person, you know?”

Eddie nearly comes then, panting desperately into your skin.

“You think I’m the right person?” Eddie asks redundantly, given your current situation—that was pretty goddamn obvious.

“Your cock is inside me, what do you think?” You ask playfully, eyebrows furrowing in anguish as Eddie makes a quick pass over your swollen bundle of nerves, driving you over the edge unexpectedly, clinging to Eddie out of instinct, letting him rock you through the duration of your orgasms until he’s coming deep inside you, legs shaking as he groans pitifully.

And despite his obvious exhaustion, he retorts a snarky, “I think I’m the perfect person, sweetheart.”

You smile, leaning forward to press a sloppy, passionately filled kiss against his lips, nodding slightly at his response.

“Same time next week?” You ask cheekily and Eddie chuckles in response, biting gently at your shoulder at your obvious playfulness.

Eddie hums thoughtfully, “How about tomorrow?”

And even if you had plans, they diminished into thin air, offering Eddie an affirmative smile.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[frankenhookersmonster]

stroke

kinktober day 12 - guided masturbation (high!steve + high!reader)

ao3 | masterlist

summary: after a joint, steve shows you how to properly fuck yourself.

contains: masturbation (reader + steve); drug use (mary jane babey); gender unspecified reader (though the term g-spot is used); use of the word hole; dildo <3; consensual masturbation/touching; dirty talk

word count: 3.5k

minors and ageless blogs dni!!!

“Woah!”

Your head snaps over from your closet to Steve, who has apparently rifled through your nightstand when you weren’t looking. He’s holding up a dildo - it’s average size (or, at least, that’s what the store employee told you) and flesh colored. It’s not one you go to often - you prefer just your fingers - but you blush wildly at the sight.

“Steve!” you whine, striding towards him. You stumble a little, a side effect of the blunt you shared outside.

“I didn’t know you used these,” he says, still inspecting it. “This feels nothing like a real dick.”

“Steve,” you repeat. “Put it back!”

“Are you really supposed to think this feels like the real thing?” he continues, holding it up and out of your reach. “God, it’s small.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not small.”

“It’s small,” he repeats. His eyes are slim and red as he looks at it, turning it in his hand. “Mine’s a lot bigger. And it feels better, too.”

You’re blushing erratically, butterflies swimming in your stomach. You wish he’d stop being so confident and bold and flirty when he got stoned. It always disappears by the morning, and he’s back to being your dorky, hopeless best friend. “Put it back!”

Steve throws it back into your nightstand and throws his hands up - just saying! - before collapsing onto your bed. He lays on his stomach and rearranges the pillows around him, getting comfortable. He’s so cute and pretty like this, and you’re compelled to lay down beside him.

“Have you ever used that?” he pushes, looking at you over his broad shoulders.

“None of your business,” you scoff. “Like, twice.”

“Twice? Did it not get you off or something?”

“Why are you asking?”

Steve whips himself around onto his back. “Because now I’m concerned you’ve never gotten off properly.”

You scrunch your nose, a little flattered that he even cares if you have. But he’s your best friend - maybe that’s just what best friends say. “You’re concerned, huh?”

He nods. He’s got puppy dog eyes.

“I can assure you, Steve, I’ve gotten off very well. Many times.”

“With someone?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because,” he argues, sitting up on the bed, clumsily putting a pillow behind him, “if you’ve only ever cum from some fake small dildo, that doesn’t count.”

“The dildo isn’t fake, dumbass.”

You’re over the conversation, heading back to your closet to try to find something warmer. But Steve’s way too quiet, and when you look back at him, he’s got the dildo back in his hand. You roll your eyes over it, deciding not to give him attention, and in the two minutes it takes you to get lost in all the clothes you forgot to own, he’s started touching himself.

You only notice when he lets out a whimper. You step back away from the door and your heart stops at the sight. He’s palming himself through his jeans, brows furrowed in concentration, the dildo discarded beside him. Steve bites his lip, thumb rubbing over the obvious outline of his cock - it’s always been obvious, but now you can see almost every inch of him.

And, yes, he’s much bigger than the dildo.

You take a step back into the closet to think. You’re too stoned for this. You’re way too stoned for this. You decide to call out his name to get him to stop before re-emerging, not wanting to barge in. Is this just what happens when he’s stoned? He’s never done this before.

“Steve!” you shout, a little too loud. After a beat, you step back out.

In the time that it now took you to decide your plan and step back out of the closet - no more than 45 seconds - his cock is now out of his jeans and in his hand, right next to the dildo. He’s comparing them.

The sight of his cock shocks you the most. At first it’s a oh my god that’s a penis, then morphs into holy fuck he IS a lot bigger. Not by that much - longer, a little wider - but definitely something that could split you in two. You could hardly take the dildo. Thoughts flood in your head about taking him, the painful stretch and burn, his little coos of encouragement until it all melts into pleasure.

“You’re staring,” he says cockily, jolting you out of your thoughts.

You falter. “Your dick is out!”

“You’re blushing, too,” Steve says, smirking. “I told you I was bigger.”

His hand is still moving along his shaft. It’s pretty. His tip is pink and shiny and he’s got two prominent veins in the shaft, which mirrors the color of the rest of his skin. Trimmed pubes poke out of his jeans as well, but anything beyond that is left to your imagination. And man, is your imagination going.

But your throat is dry, too, exacerbated by the weed, and you’re stupid just staring at it. You can’t think of anything to say.

“Wanna feel it?” Steve’s voice sounds huskier and a little more strained. “‘s not like this plastic. It’s a lot - it’s like velvet.”

Your stomach drops, then rises, then drops again. Your knees feel wobbily. “Really?” you choke out.

Steve beckons you over with a jerk of his chin, and you make your way over to the bed. You feel out of your body, hot and icy at the same time. He reaches his hand out for yours, and gently takes it, placing it on his shaft. He lets out a little sigh that makes your head spin, his big hand gripping over yours.

It is like velvet. Soft and warm and a little bit malleable. It’s more forgiving than your dildo. You can even feel Steve’s pulse, you think, pumping blood into his shaft. You give one single stroke, and Steve’s desperate groan snaps you out of it. You remove your hand, looking up at him with eyes as wide as they can go.

“We can’t do this.”

He’s pulling you onto the bed, gently laying you down beside him before towering over you, elbows on either side of your head.

“Oh, you think I’m gonna do all the work?” he asks.

You blush deeply at the misunderstanding, heart stopping. You’re lost for words, mouth opening and closing, before whispering, “I’m -I’m sorry -“

“Believe me, wish I could,” he says, sort of shaking his head, batting away your apology. “But what’re you gonna do when I’m not here, huh? I’ve gonna teach you.”

Your heart pounds hard, making you dizzy and even higher than you were before. “Teach me what? How to touch myself?”

“Properly,” he adds. “I’ll tell you how to do it.” His pupils are blown, bouncing around unfocused as he looks into yours. “You want me to?”

You swallow hard. “Y-yeah. Yeah, Steve.”

Steve smirks wide, then awkwardly shuffles down your body until his knees are on the floor. You squeak when he pulls your hips forward, bringing you to the edge of the bed.

“Take these off?” he asks, and you nod, feeling delirious. You can’t even believe that this is happening.

“Why’re you doin’ this?” you ask, twitching as the cool air of the room hits your bare legs while Steve peels your jeans off.

“It’s what friends do,” he replies. “One of my duties.” He looks up at you when your jeans are off, eyes trying to stay steady on your face and not on the heat radiating between your legs. “Hey, if you want me to stop, I will. I’ll go home and smoke some more ‘n just forget about it. Okay?”

“I know,” you say, perching yourself up on your elbows. “I trust you.”

“Looks like you want this, too,” he quips.

“Do you?”

Steve groans, rests his head on your thigh. “You’ve got no idea.”

You reach forward to pet his hair, both of you taking a moment to catch up mentally. After a beat, Steve’s hands gently grip your thighs, stretching them apart. You watch his eyes widen and Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard at the sight. He moves a hand to cup you, warm and big, and you can’t help but to grind up into it.

“Shit.” Steve swallows hard. “Shit.”

You bump your ankle into his shoulder blade. “Like what you see?”

His eyes flick up to yours. “What do you usually do to get yourself ready for that?”

“Gotta finger myself a lot,” you admit. “God, it nearly takes my whole fist.”

A strangled groan escapes him, the hand that’s still on your thigh squeezing roughly. “Really splits you open, huh?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Can’t imagine how I could make you fit.”

“I’d figure it out,” he promises, pulling away slightly. “Can I take these off?”

You reach down and do it for him, body hot despite the goosebumps rising on your skin. You lay your discarded underwear beside you, slowly opening your legs again, finally on display. You hear Steve’s breath hitch, and his hands twitch to reach out to touch you. But he stays away, understanding the boundary.

“How’s that look?” you ask, cringing after you say it.

“Good. Really good,” he replies dumbly.

“Y’think?”

Steve reaches over the mattress to grab the dildo and brings it back, looking between it and your opening. He groans loudly. He seriously cannot imagine how you’re able to take it.

“I’m flexible,” you say. “Just takes me some time to get there is all.”

Steve clears his throat. “Then we’d better get started, huh? Lay back for me.”

You do as told, laying on your pillow. You don’t like not being able to see him, but hearing him is enough. “Done.”

“So good for me,” he says, and he’s teasing, but it still makes your stomach flip. “Show me how you touch yourself.”

Your hand reaches down and you begin, eyes closing as your fingers work. You let out a little sigh as you make contact with yourself. You’re already so sensitive - a side effect from the pot - and you don’t know if you’ll last long enough to fuck yourself with the toy.

“Jesus,” you hear Steve whimper. “Want you to think it’s me touching you. Okay? Slow down a little bit. Wanna take my time with you.”

“Steve,” you moan, slowing your movements.

“‘s right, be patient for me …. You’re so pretty. Bet y’feel so good under your fingers, baby. Sink one into you, let me see how tight you are.”

So you do, sliding a finger inside and sighing. “Feels good, Steve.”

“Jesus, you’re hugging it so much. Tell me how you feel.”

“So warm and plush,” you whimper. “Soft. I’m - don’t know if another will fit.”

Steve makes another strangled noise. “It’ll fit, baby. Take it easy. Think about how much one of my fingers would stretch you out. Christ, you’d be ruined on two of them.”

“Steve.” It’s all you can say.

“Fuck yourself slow for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, doing as you’re told, pushing your finger deep inside of you.

Steve’s slack jawed, drooling a little bit because he can’t remember how to swallow. His mind is fuzzy and racing and you’re all spread out and pliant in front of him. He can’t stand it. His hand finds his cock and he strokes himself to the same pace as your finger. “Add another one.”

You do, sinking your index finger inside of you and biting your lip.

“That feel good? You’re getting so stretched out for me.”

“Hurts a little,” you frown. “I’m really tight, Steve.”

“Christ, I know.” He’s watching your walls clench around your digits like a vice. He’d give anything to be the one stretching you out. “Fuck yourself, baby. Ride through the pain for me. You feel your sweet spot?”

Your face flushes. “I don’t know how to find it.”

Steve licks his lips. “I’ll help you. Curl your fingers up for me, okay? You feel that bumpy spot?”

“No?” you pout. “I don’t think I have -“

Steve’s hand slides up to push against your bladder - you’re impressed that he knows where it is - and he says, “Try again.”

You curl your fingers up and move them around before gasping. “Oh, shit.”

“Curl them again,” he coaxes. “Stroke it.”

You do, and the feeling almost makes you shoot out of the bed. “Oh. Oh. Oh, shit!”

Steve smirks, his fingers massaging your stomach. “You like it?”

You can’t speak, feeling way too good. You’re lost in the pleasure of it before Steve removes his hand.

“Easy, easy, don’t cum too fast.”

You nod. The sound of your fingers fucking yourself fills the room, along with little whimpers and moans from your throat.

“Yeah, just like that. Gettin’ so loud.”

You whine as the pads of your fingers rub against your sweet spot once more. “Steve, your fingers feel so good,” you moan, realizing your mistake a second after - but Steve groans loudly, grips your thigh tight as if it’ll ground him.

“Yeah, baby? They stretchin’ you out? Getting you nice and loose for this cock?”

You wail. “Please, can I add another?”

“Yes, sweetheart, add another, lemme see you stretch open.”

Three fingers feels so good. So impossibly full. You touch yourself more, a hand sliding up to play with your nipples through your shirt. “Mmm, Steve - tell me what t-to think about.”

“Tease your fingers at your entrance,” he whispers, and when you do, he continues. “Think about your fingers bein’ my cock. Rubbing up and down along your pretty little hole, getting ready to stretch it out. You’ve been waiting for this forever, haven’t you? Gonna push my cock in nice and slow. Wanna feel how warm y’are.”

You push your fingers in slowly, crying out - your imagination runs rampant, fueled by weed and arousal. You can so clearly picture it; Steve mounted on top of you, holding your hands as he gently pushes in. Biting his lip when he feels how warm and wet you are, how much your hole sucks him in. Brows furrowed in concentration as he pushes and pushes and pushes, deep inside of you, deeper than your fingers could ever reach.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan, grinding into your palm.

Steve’s sweating, voice cracking. “One more, sweetheart. Just one more. Gotta make sure you’re ready to take it.”

You whine, but you slide another finger in. It’s a bit difficult at first, and you have to maneuver your fingers perfectly to get it to slide in. Your fingers are cramping now at the exertion, and you pant, beginning to sweat too. “Steve, it’s so much. So much. Your cock is so fucking big -“

“Shit,” he moans, leaning forward and resting his cheek on your thigh again, getting close to the sight of your fingers disappearing into you. He’s trying so hard not to jerk himself off too much - doesn’t want to cum before you. “I know, baby. You’re takin’ it so well, though. So proud of you. Give me a couple more strokes.”

Steve pulls your hand away before you can finish, staring with wide eyes at how wet your fingers are. He can smell you. He wants a taste so bad. You notice his head leaning in and you place your fingers against his lips, gasping when he sucks them into his mouth.

“You’re so hot,” you moan, squeezing your legs together.

He pulls off of your fingers and licks his lips. “Open your legs, gotta compare this dick to mine.” He hands the dildo to you, and you stare at it before looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“Want you to fuck me with it.”

Steve exhales loudly. “Like it’s my cock?”

You nod. Steve contemplates, but shakes his head. “Wouldn’t be realistic,” he says, stroking your legs with his hands. “You know mine’s bigger.”

“I know,” you pout. “I just - I want you so badly.”

“Tell me about it,” he whispers. “Remember what I said earlier? Want to make sure you can fuck yourself properly when I’m not around.”

You pout harder. “Can you at least hand me my lube?”

Steve kind of blanks, staring at you. “You have to use lube?”

“Yes? Look at this thing.”

He pauses, nods, gets up and trips as he heads for your dresser. He finds it easily and brings it back, and he lays on the bed beside you this time. “Thought maybe - maybe we could touch ourselves together?”

You blush. “Y-yeah. Yeah. You’ll need some of the lube, then.”

Steve’s more of a lotion kind of guy, and he hisses when the thick liquid trickles onto the head of his shaft. “It’s cold,” he complains.

“Won’t be for long,” you promise, taking the bottle from him and coating the toy in it.

“Wouldn’t have to use this stuff with me.”

“Yes I would,” you scoff. “Look at you.”

He’s about to bite back, almost forgetting what’s happening, but then you’re sinking the toy into you slowly. Your face scrunches in pain and Steve immediately reaches out for you, his hand resting on your thigh again. “You okay?”

“‘s big,” you whisper. “Don’t know - I don’t think I can ever take you, Steve.”

“Just have to take my time with you,” he assures, rubbing circles into your thigh. “Gently, sweetheart, there’s no hurry.”

But there is a hurry. You want to cum. You want to feel that dizzying heat take you over again when Steve talks to you all filthy. You push the toy in and out of you slowly, pushing it in more and more with each thrust. Steve watches, his hand rubbing along his slicked up shaft. “Good. Doin’ so well, know you can take it.”

Once it’s seated in you, you pause to give yourself time to fully adjust. Your hand reaches down to play with yourself again, trying to stay on the brink of pleasure. You finally begin moving it, slowly at first before picking up the pace. Steve matches your thrusts.

“Look at you. Fuck. You’re so - god, stretching you out so much. Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” you squeak, eyes caught on Steve’s hand and dick.

“Wish it was mine, huh? Poor thing. Told you it wasn’t all that, didn’t I? Isn’t as soft and warm. Not - shit - not as big as me. How far can you take it in?”

You bite your lip and press it as deep as it’ll go inside of you. Both you and Steve moan over it.

“That filling you up enough?”

“No,” you moan. “It’s - it’s short - wish I could feel it deep.”

Steve shudders. “Wish I was balls deep inside of you. Bet I could make you scream over it.”

“Steve,” you choke out, fucking yourself harder and faster, stroking yourself with your fingers. You turn to look at him, and he’s looking at you, too. His hair’s a mess, brown eyes large and lips slick and parted. He’s so gorgeous. Your eyes rake down to his cock again and you moan loudly.

“Want it?” he pants. “I’ll give it to you. Be good and fuck yourself for me. Deep as you can. Gotta train you to take me.”

Your eyes snap back up to his and you moan, broken and fucked out. Steve can’t take it. He knows he can’t kiss you, but he leans in, brushes his lips against yours.

“That’s it,” he mumbles. “Come on. Hit that spot I showed you. Think of it bein’ my fat cock splitting you open. Making you cry and scream and cum. Feelin’ me in your stomach.”

“Fuck,” you whimper, lips dragging against his, panting into each other’s mouth. “Steve. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

“Cum around me,” he begs. “Milk m-“

He’s cut off with a cry, your head thrown back as you cum, clenching down hard and unrelenting on the dildo inside of you. Steve’s spilling into his hand a moment after, groaning lowly and mumbling words that don’t make sense together. You both slow down at the same time, then stop, laying and panting together.

“That was incredible,” you breathe. “I’ve never cum so hard in my life.”

“I know,” Steve says.

“Shut up.”

He turns his head and pouts at you. “That’s no way to talk to the person that taught you about your g-spot, is it?”

You roll your eyes and slowly pull the toy out of you, relaxing when it’s freed. Steve stares at it, admiring how wet it is, kind of wanting to pick it up and lick it clean. If only it didn’t have lube on it.

He clears his throat and pulls his eyes back to your face. “First thing I do in the morning. I’m kissing you.”

“You promise?”

“I swear.”

You smile at him, blushing again as if you didn’t just fuck your self right in front of his face. You want to kiss him, but you know you have to wait. So you suggest the only thing you can think of.

“Wanna smoke another joint? Getting high after orgasming is, like, peak luxury.”

He grins. “Absolutely.”