#charity car

[enyasaints]

EEOC: Sexual Harassment Legal Fund

This update was more to show appreciation for all of the outpouring of support I have received in the past few days. I am elated and feel optimistic for the future. I want so badly to get justiced for being sexually abused in the workplace and illegal termination. I can only do so with the help of strangers. Please be a beacon of aid for me. Thank you so much

GFM:

Direct Aid:

PP: enyasaints@gmail.com

[cheekios]

Rationing Insulin.

Blood sugar reading this morning. The average blood sugar reading should be between 60mg/dl - 100mg/dl. I am terrified of not being able to administer my insulin simply because I was too poor to afford it. I am strongly in need of community help.

CA: $HushEmu

PP: emuslayter@gmail.com

I am happy to announce I raised $33 🎉 I only need $417 to get my prescription

[mensfactory]

800 hp 1967 Shelby GT500CR

A reimagined Mustang from Classic Recreations,

The limited-edition model will comprise only 10 examples, each priced at $625,000, of which $100,000 of that will go to the American Heart Association and its latest “Life is Why” campaign.

[noyzinerd]

Sterek Rival Lawyers AU

It's A (Court) Date

Imagine, high-class, Ivy League, hot-shot, attorney Derek comes back from New York to the family firm to take over as partners with his sister after his parents decide to step down. He may not be on the level of his mother yet, but he's cut his teeth against Wall Street wolves and ruthless white-collar sharks. Derek's more than proved himself, so he just can't fathom these small criminal court cases his family is making him take "before he's truly ready" to be a part of the family business.

Enter in his first case. Right out the gate, the state assigned defense is, not only late to court, but also arrives in a flurry of limbs and papers, tripping all over himself, and profusely apologizing to the room as a whole. "Sorry! Sorry! Car trouble!"

The guy is out of breath, tie crooked and hair a mess. It makes Derek wrinkle his nose at the unprofessionalism and the blatant disrespect to everyone's valuable time.

The presiding judge, the Honorable Ms. Lydia Martin, only sighs a heavy sigh, as if this sight is nothing new, and says "Mr. Stilinski, I suggest you don't let it happen again."

Derek is honestly getting annoyed by how easy this is going to be. He could've been doing literally anything else right about now rather than being here going against a common rent-a-lawyer with some Podunk community-college degree. The opening statement for the defense is laughably inept. Full of nervous stuttering, backtracking, running tangents, and babbling. He's still apologizing, trying to assure the jury that he's just having an off-day today.

It's embarrassing to watch.

Nonetheless, Derek goes through the motions, practiced and poised. Examines all the evidence, presenting times and dates, prior arrest records, the works.

During this time, Mr. Stilinski is frantically (and VERY LOUDLY) flitting through a cartoonishly large stack of papers and whispering to his client. Derek has to fight to grit his teeth through his presentation.

Finally, it's time for Mr. Stilinski to cross-examine Derek's client and, unbeknownst to him, the beginning of Derek's long, long spiral of madness for the rest of his career.

"Judge Martin, I would like to move to have this case thrown out."

"Oh?" asks Judge Martin. For some reason, there's an amused smirk, almost fond, tugging at her lips "On what grounds?"

A giddy, almost manic, grin takes over the defense attorney's face just then. "On the grounds that the prosecution's client is full of bullshit."

The judge rolls her eyes and an exasperated "Stiles," slips from her lips, seemingly against her will. (Derek's not really surprised by the familiarity between the two of them. With how often state-assigned lawyers are called to the courtroom on small cases, it wouldn't be too big of a leap to suggest they might be chummy.)

"Respectfully, of course." Mr. Stilinski--er Stiles?--winks back at her.

"Objection. Your honor, this is ridiculous."

"Overruled. Make your point, Stilinski."

"Mr. Davis says he saw my client at 12:30 P.M., on August 4th, attempting to take his back-right hubcap outside his apartment. Mr. Davis' apartment complex at that time, on that particular day, would have cast a huge shadow over the back lot as evidenced by the gaudy sundial-art-installation outside the courthouse. Meanwhile, my client's picture, when taken in for questioning, has a sunburn on the entire right side of his face. This would corroborate Mr. Lyle's story of walking home alone, down the upper, unshaded side of Elmore Street, during one of the hottest days of the year, for an hour straight. Also, the fact that Mr. Davis has no realistic idea how long it would actually take a person to steal a hubcap should be evidence enough."

"Uh-huh. And this wouldn't happen to be something you've ever had any expertise in, would it, counsel?"

"I plead the 5th."

And just like that, Derek's case is thrown out so quick, he's still reeling about it all the way home.

For the next two years, this becomes Derek's life. This man, this Stiles Stilinski, keeps showing up like a whirlwind and absolutely puts him in his paces.

Stiles, as he insists Derek call him, is a powerhouse. Relentless and unstoppable. That mouth can filibuster for literal hours (which, for those unfamiliar, is when someone legally cannot be forced to give up their time on the floor as long as they can keep talking), that brain quick as a whip, with a hunger for research, a mastery of the English language svelte enough to trip up even the most well-rehearsed lie, and an attention to detail like nothing Derek has ever witnessed before. It's like he knows every law inside and out. Lives it. Breathes it. It's like he had been raised on the law his whole life. Not only that, it's like Stiles enjoys it. Every case is a new game to get excited about.

All of it makes Derek's blood boil.

However, it's not always about losing to Stiles all the time, because, honestly, that might be less humiliating.

In truth, when faced against Stiles, Derek's bound to win about 60% of the time. Out of that 60%, only 5% of those wins actually feel earned. As for the other 55%?

He knows Stiles is letting him win.

Derek can't prove it, but he knows the asshole is holding back on purpose nearly half the time. Knowing that Stiles could have beaten him if he wanted to, but didn't, is somehow more frustrating than just losing.

He hates Stiles.

He hates that the guy is so chipper and playful all the damn time. He hates that Stiles could probably work at any firm he wanted, could make enough money to get a decent car that doesn't shit out all the time, could buy a proper-fitting suit, but instead CHOOSES to stay here "watching out for the little guy", as he so put it.

He hates that facing Stiles in court is the most challenged, the most motivated he's ever felt in his entire life. He hates that Stiles brings out in him the spark of passion and drive Derek had long thought had died. He hates that Stiles always tries to banter with him during recess or whenever they have to exchange evidence.

He hates finding out that Stiles only loses cases on purpose when his endless amounts of research points to the defendant actually being guilty of horrendous crimes, because Stiles is a good fucking person.

He hates Stiles' constant teasing and he hates that Stiles is somehow able to bring Derek down to his childish level to tease back. He hates how much he looks forward to court-dates with Stiles now. He hates being invited out by Stiles over and over to grab a bite together after a long day, as if Stiles hasn't been wiping the floor with him on this case for the last month. He hates it even more that he always accepts and that now they have their own designated booth at the diner across the street. Derek's so unbelievably frustrated, it makes him want to bite Stiles at the neck just to hear that smartass mouth squeal.

"Hey, I ever tell you I was thinking of quitting before you arrived?" Stiles asks one night as they're walking to their cars.

Derek's head immediately snaps to him at that. "What?"

Stiles smiles distantly at the thought. "Oh, yeah. Things had started feeling like being trapped in a cubicle, y'know? There wasn't any challenge in it anymore."

"What made you stay?"

"Well...you did. You were the first, serious competition I'd faced in a while. It wasn't a matter of winning just to win, anymore. Going against you always reminded me of the reason why it was important for me to win. It gave me stakes, because now there was an actual chance I could lose and an innocent person could go to jail. You, I don't know, kinda reignited my passion for fighting the good fight, I guess."

Derek can feel his heart thumping hard in his chest. He wants to say 'You did the same for me!' He wants to tell Stiles that he didn't think his life could ever be this fun or happy or messy or chaotic or exhilarating or challenging or fulfilling before coming to Beacon Hills.

But just as Derek goes to open his mouth to sing Stiles' praises, he instead finds himself roughly shoving him up against the Camaro and biting hungrily at that mouth and tongue that's been the bane of his existence. There's a surprised little squeak that Derek quickly swallows up, but it isn't long before they're both tearing at each others' clothes and fucking each other dirty in the backseat of Derek's car.

What's crazy is, after they get together, nothing in their careers really changes. The only difference is now they get to fuck each others' brains out after an intense battle in court (and the sound Stiles makes when Derek bites him is exactly what he always imagined it would sound like). They still face against each other on opposite sides in court. They still give it everything they got, no conceding even if they are dating now. Not to mention, Derek wouldn't dream of tempting Stiles over to his firm. Not when he knows Stiles is at his best staying where he's at.

The day Derek's family finally decides it's time for him to take over the firm with Laura is the best day of his and Stiles' lives.

Not only does Derek tell them he's declining, he hires Stiles as his attorney to negotiate terms against his entire family of well-seasoned lawyers.

The entire month-long negotiation results in Derek, not saying a single word, but absolutely beaming as he watches his boyfriend run circles around his mother, his father, his uncle, and both of his sisters on contracts. It's so unbelievably hot, they're banging on whatever flat surface they can get their hands on every time they leave the boardroom. There's even one very memorable blowjob in the empty hall outside the boardroom when Stiles somehow manages to get Peter to agree to a (most likely illegal) clause dictating the firm will pay Stiles a finder's fee for any pro-bono case Stiles takes on outside of Beacon Hills that strikes his fancy.

And, no one says it, but they all know Derek definitely, 100%, dragged his own firm through this negotiation just to show off how incredible Stiles is to his family and preen about it.

--

Fast-forward, Derek is going to be in the audience for the first time for one of Stiles' cases.

While waiting in the hall, Derek sees a familiar face from his New York days. The prosecution has hired the eighth best lawyer money can get, Jackson Whittemore. He's sporting a Rolex, sunglasses indoors, and the face of someone who thinks he's above literally every other person in town.

Well, at least until he sees Derek.

For some reason, Jackson seems to think Derek is all the way out in the middle of nowhere to 'watch a master at work' (which...well...is technically true...).

As Derek goes to sit in the audience, Jackson tells him in passing, "This'll be over so fast, probably won't even get a chance to learn the other guy's name."

Derek chuckles and says back, "Ooh, buddy, you have no idea."

Before Jackson can think more on that, a whirlwind of limbs and papers suddenly hurls through the doors.

Derek sits back, gets comfy, and waits eagerly for the show to begin.

My first moodboard. Hope you enjoy. AU based on a discussion with @casually-eat-my-soul (I suggest checking out their version). This was kind of like a divergence from that (the brain juices just started flowing).

[grogumaximus]

[sidekick-hero]

You know I'm a show off (I would let you get some)

(steddie | explicit | 6.4k | AO3)

And so begins the longest ten minutes of Eddie Munson's life.

He's standing there, the sun beating down on them, but he's sweating for a completely different reason as he watches Steve contort himself to reach every last inch of his precious BMW. His shorts are riding dangerously high, just barely revealing the curve of his round ass more than once. There are moles all over his skin, like constellations waiting to be explored by adventurous hands and lips. The hair on his legs looks soft, so light it's almost blonde, and Eddie wants to run his fingers over it, scratch the creamy white skin of his inner thighs and leave his mark on that perfect body.

Or: Steve washes his car just for Eddie to get it dirty again.

Eddie was going to die. Death by sexual frustration. Or spontaneous combustion. Maybe a heart-attack. No matter how, his neighbor would be the death of him.

He and his best friend Chrissy just moved into the duplex three weeks ago, but Eddie was already on the brink of insanity. Just last week he had to witness said neighbor — Steve, the most boring name for the most exciting creature he ever laid eyes on — water his garden in nothing but red swimming trunks, his skin glistening in the sun like that creepy vampire Chrissy was so obsessed with. Eddie had wanted to lick every drop of sweat from his body, soothe the blooming sunburn on his shoulders and nose with his spit, and ask him to water something else with his hose.

And to add insult to injury, the guy was not only gorgeous, but nice. Like, super nice. He's always polite, always handing out smiles like candy on Halloween. He never stares at Chrissy in that sleazy way that too many guys do. There are no loud parties. Hell, the guy even separates his garbage. Eddie's pretty sure he also rescues kittens from trees in his spare time.

When they had moved in, Steve had come over and offered his help, just like that. Being a little overwhelmed and a lot exhausted from moving both of their belongings in one day, they had gratefully accepted. Steve had carried box after box, his biceps straining against the sleeves of his polo shirt. Despite the heat and the sweat running down his face and neck, he smelled heavenly every time he walked by Eddie. He would brush up against him or press in close as they both tried to lift something from the moving truck, and Eddie had to close his eyes and will himself to calm down. He was sure he'd get a hard-on every time he smelled Steve's cologne from now on.

Today's special torture was Steve washing his car in front of his garage. Wearing nothing but a white tank top and the shortest jean shorts Eddie has ever seen in his life, which is saying something considering his best friend is an ex-cheerleader. What the fuck was this guy thinking? Does this count as assault?

The top and shorts were already soaked, clinging to Steve's body like a second skin and leaving little to the imagination. Not that Eddie's imagination didn't still run wild with what it was given. So wild, in fact, that Eddie doesn't even notice how he all but drops the groceries he was trying to carry to the house back into his van, and walks over to the godlike creature, who is acting out a scene that could have come straight out of one of Eddie's wet dreams.

He only realizes what he's doing when Steve looks up from where he's been scrubbing the hood of his car with a soapy sponge and asks him, "Uh... can I help you?"

"I noticed you're washing your car," Eddie says dumbly.

The corners of Steve's lips twitch like he's hiding his amusement. "Yup," he says, popping the p. "Want me to wash yours? I already have everything out.”

Eddie glances at Steve's crotch before he can stop himself and thinks, I wish you would.

"Yeah," he says dreamily, licking his lips. He can't remember what Steve asked, but the answer would always be yes, as long as he could stand here and stare at him.

"Great. I'm almost done here, then we can start on your van. Gimme ten."

And so begins the longest ten minutes of Eddie Munson's life.

He's standing there, the sun beating down on them, but he's sweating for a completely different reason as he watches Steve contort himself to reach every last inch of his precious BMW. His shorts are riding dangerously high, just barely revealing the curve of his round ass more than once. There are moles all over his skin, like constellations waiting to be explored by adventurous hands and lips. The hair on his legs looks soft, so light it's almost blonde, and Eddie wants to run his fingers over it, scratch the creamy white skin of his inner thighs and leave his mark on that perfect body.

The tank top is also see-through, revealing spectacular tits that Eddie is dying to get his hands on, and a tantalizing patch of dark chest hair that he needs to bury his face in.

Steve absentmindedly wipes the hair plastered to his forehead away with the hand that’s not holding the sponge. His muscles move under his wet skin, and Eddie thinks back to the easy way he picked up his amp from the moving truck and carried it up the stairs to Eddie's room. He could probably lift Eddie as well and the thought does nothing to relax the situation in his pants. They are getting uncomfortably tight and he prays to whoever is listening that it will go down fast.

"Okay, all done. Looking gorgeous again, sweetheart." Steve says, petting the hood of his car and Eddie chuckles.

Steve looks up at him as if expecting Eddie to mock him, so Eddie raises his hands in a reassuring gesture and says, "Hey, no judgment from me. I got my own sweetheart hanging on my bedroom wall, I get it."

"Oh, your guitar, right?"

"Yeah, it was my first electric guitar. I wrote all the songs for my band’s album on her. She holds a special place in my heart."

Steve smiles at him, his hazel eyes warm and open. "I know what you mean," he says as he watches his fingers dance over the gleaming metal one more time before looking back at Eddie, his gaze wandering along his frame, his eyes subtly widening at the sight of the probably still very obvious bulge in Eddie's pants.

Eddie can feel the heat creeping up his body, embarrassed at being caught, but Steve only swallows once, Adam's apple bobbing, before clearing his throat and throwing his thumb over his shoulder. "Just need to put it in and we're good to go."

"Put it...in?" Eddie chokes out, trying to subtly adjust his pants at the mental image.

Steve smirks at his reaction, and Eddie starts to think that his neighbor isn't such a goodie-two-shoes as he originally thought.

"The car? It needs to go into the garage so we can put your van in my driveway to clean it."

"Oh yeah, absolutely. By all means, put it in." Eddie cringes at his own words. Good God, what is wrong with him?

Steve nods, his appraising eyes still lingering on Eddie for a moment before he gets into the car. He waits for the garage door to slide open before he drives the BMW into the spacious room. Eddie is watching, his brain is still not back online after the show he just witnessed, so he doesn't question it when Steve gets out of the car and calls him over to come in; he has something to show him. He just steps into the garage and walks over to where Steve is standing in front of the hood.

Suddenly, the garage door slides back down, shutting out the outside world and leaving them alone with Steve's car as the only witness to Steve pulling Eddie into a heated kiss.

At first Eddie is too shocked by the firm lips pressing against his to react. Steve's hands are fisted in his shirt and his mouth moves insistently against Eddie's, coaxing him to join their dance, and Eddie wonders if he's dreaming again. Because the last time Steve had kissed him like this, hungry, wanton, perfect, Eddie had woken up hard and lonely, with thoughts of his unattainably gorgeous neighbor.

A sharp nip to his lower lip convinces him that this is real, because it stings, in the best way, and Eddie's breath catches. His eyes open — when did he even close them? — to find Steve looking back at him, the lovely hazel of his eyes almost entirely consumed by the black of his dilated pupils. He licks Eddie's lower lips apologetically, soothing the sting his teeth have caused, before leaning back and watching him intently.

Eddie blinks at him, still processing but already missing Steve's lips on his. "Wha- I mean, why- uh, y'know —" He stumbles over the half-formed words in his head, searching for the right ones, preferably in the right order, but he's never been an overachiever, so he settles for the next best thing. "You kissed me."

Steve snorts. "What if I did?" he asks, looking up at Eddie from under his lashes, and he shouldn't be able to pull this off, they're the same height, but somehow he does. Eddie briefly wonders if his neighbor was designed by the government to eliminate their enemies by rendering them useless with lust. If so, he thinks it definitely works.

"Why? I mean..." Eddie trails off, thinks for a moment before he shrugs, "Yeah, no, I wanna know why."

"Well," Steve begins, suddenly sounding shy, even though the words that follow are anything but. "I noticed you couldn't keep your eyes off me today. In fact, I think you haven't been able to keep your eyes off me for a while now, huh?" His eyelashes flutter and it should look ridiculous, Steve is not one of Chrissy's girlfriends who often come over and flirt with Eddie like they can't believe he's gay and really not interested, batting their long eyelashes and curling their manicured petite hands around his arm.

No, Steve's face is all angles, strong jaw, broad face, prominent nose. His hands aren't petite, they're big and strong. So when he acts all shy, it should look silly, but when he puts his hand on Eddie's chest and bites his lips, Eddie's heart starts racing underneath. "But you never made a move, you just... kept looking. Which is fine, I mean, I like to be looked at, but a guy does have his limits, y'know. Had to take matters into my own hands, just to see if I was imagining things."

It took Eddie three tries to graduate high school, but he’s not dumb. He could basically hear the puzzle pieces fall into place in his head, but his voice is still full of disbelief when he asks, “You- you put on a show? For me?”

Steve snorts again. "Yeah, dude. I could just go to a car wash and get this beauty cleaned up in no time. It's just so much more fun to watch you get hard for me." His hand on Eddie's chest slides down, stopping just short of where Eddie wants it so badly, and he feels the remaining blood leave his brain at a rapid pace. "So what do you say?"

Eddie gulps, his mouth running before his brain can give any input, "You're not afraid of staining your sweetheart?"

Steve just shrugs and flashes Eddie a wolfish grin. "Well, I guess I could just wash it again then. Maybe lick it off. You wouldn't mind watching that, would you?"

And that's it, the thing that makes Eddie snap. He throws an arm around Steve's waist, pulls him close to his chest and grabs his ass with the other to lift him off the ground to lay him down on the hood of his car. "Stay," he almost growls, the hunger in his veins turning to greed as he leans back to take in the sight of Steve all laid out for him.

His hair is fanned out around his head like a halo, the vast expanse of sun-kissed skin ready to be marked and devoured. Eddie can see how turned on Steve already is; the surprise manhandling only adding fuel to the fire between them. His stiff nipples are visible through the now soaked white top, the red flush of arousal staining his chest and throat, and his chest is heaving with his ragged breathing. Eddie sees his hard dick straining against the wet material of his denim shorts and he thinks it must hurt to have the sensitive head rubbing against the stiff material with the way Steve’s hips keep squirming, mindlessly grinding his ass against the heated metal. Eddie wants to ruin him.

Steve seems to be on the same page because he spreads his legs wider and wraps them around Eddie's waist to pull him closer, ignoring Eddie's earlier order. Eddie comes tumbling forward, catching himself with his hands on either side of Steve's head and Steve pulls him down in another kiss, this one even more heated than the first. Steve licks into Eddie's mouth like he owns it and Eddie's head is already spinning from how fast they're going. It feels like the last three weeks have been one long foreplay and they can't wait a second longer. So when Steve starts sucking Eddie's tongue into his mouth, Eddie's arms give way and he crashes down on Steve, never stopping their kissing or the constant grinding of their hips against each other.

Not wasting another second, Steve takes advantage of their new position to get his hands under Eddie's shirt, nails scratching along his back. They're practically dry humping on the shiny hood of a BMW. Eddie's younger, non-conformist, capitalism-hating self would roll his eyes before applauding him for getting down and dirty with the hottest guy he's ever laid eyes on. He begins to put more force into the roll of his hips, pressing Steve harder against the metal beneath him, and Steve wrenches their mouths apart with a loud, drawn out moan.

He starts tugging at Eddie's shirt, grumbling, "Off. Get it off," against Eddie's mouth, and Eddie complies, leaning back just enough to pull his shirt over his head before coming back down to capture Steve's mouth in another kiss. The wet material of Steve's top is nice against Eddie’s heated skin, but he wants to feel Steve, only Steve, so he slips his hand beneath him and pulls him into a sitting position.

His hands make their way to Steve's waist to slip under his top, his fingertips touching Steve's stomach and Eddie feels the muscles flutter against them. He presses his hands down harder and begins to slide them up Steve's body, his eyes drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin. There are more moles underneath and Eddie thinks Steve should be shirtless all the time so he can trace them with his fingers or his tongue whenever he wants. Steve giggles when Eddie's hands reach his rips and it's an unexpectedly delightful sound. Ticklish, Eddie notes on his mental list of things he knows about his neighbor. Cute is already there, so he doesn't have to add that one.

"Lift your arms for me, sweetheart," Eddie rasps, his voice already affected by the little they've done so far. Steve obeys easily, pleased to get what he wants, and Eddie has to kiss him. Just a quick press of lips, there and gone.

The gasp that comes from Steve's mouth is music to Eddie's ears as he slides his hands further up, his thumbs grazing Steve's nipples along the way. Steve is so responsive, so obvious and giving with his desire, and if that isn't the hottest thing ever, Eddie doesn't know what is.

He stops the upward slide of his hands at Steve's wrist and twists the material of his shirt around them, effectively tying them together, before placing his hand on the thick patch of dark hair on Steve's chest and pushing him back down onto the hood. Steve looks at Eddie with a dazed look in his eyes, his arms resting on the windshield above his head.

"What —" is all he manages to say, his former cockiness gone for the moment.

Eddie takes his time to look at the beautiful man laid out in front of him. Steve hasn't moved his hands, silent surrender in every line of his body. He's perfect. Steve is perfect.

"You're perfect," Eddie purrs. "Putting on such a hot show, just for me. So let me enjoy what you're offering, yeah?"

With that, Eddie leans down again and bites Steve's jaw, just below his ear. It's such an unexpected move that Steve gasps loudly, his hips shooting up as if Eddie had electrocuted him. He licks the bite mark soothingly before scraping his teeth down the column of Steve's throat to his collarbone, sucking the thin skin just above the bone into his mouth and worrying it between his teeth. As much as Steve tries to hold still and let Eddie explore his body, the need for friction seems to become too much, because Eddie feels the hard, thick line of his cock rubbing against his own crotch in incremental thrusts.

"Eddie, please, please, please," Steve begs, and Eddie thinks he doesn't even know what for. It's intoxicating, almost addictive, and he hopes this won't be the last time he gets high on Steve.

"So impatient," Eddie chides him, biting the firm flesh of his pec in warning.

Steve squirms under him but still manages to sound defiant as he says, "Oh fuck you, been waiting weeks to get your hands on me, I deserve a reward for my —" his words are cut short by a low fuck as Eddie sucks his nipple into his mouth and lets his tongue play with it.

"You deserve a reward for your fuck? I dunno, Stevie. We'll have to see, won't we?" Eddie smirks up at Steve, his chin digging into the nipple he just abused with his mouth.

"How about you get a move on so I can show you?"

Eddie resumes working his mouth down Steve's torso, biting and licking his chest, tracing the constellation of moles and freckles with his tongue, memorizing Steve's body by taste and smell alone. When he pulls his lower body away from Steve's to get a better angle, Steve whines at the loss and Eddie takes pity on him, offering his chest for Steve's dick to rub against instead. The hot flesh feels big, even through the jeans, a thick length that Eddie can't wait to get his mouth on.

"You can't wait to get my mouth on you, huh, big boy?"

Not waiting for an answer, Eddie slides further down and dips his tongue into Steve's navel, relishing the sounds that fall from Steve's mouth. It's like Steve can't keep them in, his body forced to be still, so he has to use his voice to let some of the overflowing feelings out of his body. Eddie decides to test how much longer Steve can keep his hands to himself.

His tongue leaves Steve's belly button and follows the tantalizing trail of dark hair down to the waistband of his shorts. He sucks the tender flesh into his mouth as well, leaving another mark. Looking up at Steve's torso, Eddie thinks he may have gone a bit overboard, because his skin is covered in bruises and bite marks, and something tells him that Steve is going to bitch about it later. For now, they both seem to be enjoying Eddie's more possessive side.

While his mouth is still busy sucking on Steve's skin, his hands begin to work on undoing his pants. The button is a bitch, the wetness makes it hard to move the material enough to pop the button free, but once that's done, he gets to hear the satisfying sound of the zipper going down. Next, his hands hook into the waist and slide the shorts off Steve's long, muscular legs, the material clinging to him and Eddie can't even blame it. They are gorgeous legs and Eddie would never want to be parted from them either, wants to have them around him all the time.

When he's finally pulled them all the way off, Eddie has to pause for a moment to take in the sight before him. He's almost dizzy with want, but frozen in place because there are so many things he wants to do to Steve right now, it's overwhelming. Steve lies there, miles and miles of golden skin, Eddie's marks like new stars born into existing constellations, adding to the sheer beauty of him.

Steve's hands are still above his head, the muscles in his arms bunching with his restraint to keep them there, his broad swimmer's back pushing his torso up in an arch that even Michelangelo could not have done justice. It tapers into a sturdy waist, his hipbones framing his dark crotch hair like a canvas. The thick thighs underneath quiver at the unnatural angle and Eddie wants to wrap them back around him. And he will, any second now. As soon as he is done burning all of this into his memory.

"Take a picture, it would last longer," Steve snarks, and Eddie is honestly impressed by the attitude. Apparently Steve Harrington is a little bitch, even with his cock dripping pre-cum and his hips writhing.

He does have a point though — it would. So Eddie pulls out his phone and snaps a picture.

"That better go in a private folder," Steve bitches, an embarrassed blush rising to his cheeks, but Eddie can tell he's turned on, too, by the way more pre-cum drips down on his stomach. Interesting.

"Top of the spank bank, baby," Eddie promises as he drops to his knees in front of Steve.

He takes a second to slide his phone away to keep it safe before focusing all his attention on the cock right in front of him, mouth already flooded with saliva. Placing both of his hands on Steve's hips to hold him in place, he mouths up the hard length, starting at the base, all the way up to the leaking head. With his hands busy he has to use his tongue to lift Steve’s dick from where it's resting against his taut stomach to get it all the way into his mouth.

Eddie doesn't waste another second, sliding down and taking Steve into his throat.

Steve shoots up, his upper body lifting off the metal into a sitting position in one swift motion, his hands sliding out of their confines to bury themselves in Eddie’s hair.

Fuck, if that wasn't the hottest thing Eddie had ever seen. Hot enough that he decides he's done playing for now.

So instead of pulling off and putting Steve back in his place, he just increases his efforts, bobbing his head and making sure to swallow and moan around Steve whenever he hits his fluttering throat. It's uncomfortable with how big Steve is, almost painful, and Eddie loves every second of it. It makes him feel alive, powerful with how he can take Steve apart with just his mouth. There's something so rewarding about choking on a dick, pleasure that hits in a different way.

It's with regret that he pulls off after a few more minutes of indulging himself with the pleasure of Steve's weight on his tongue and the thickness filling his throat. But he has plans; wants to have Steve as addicted as Eddie already is. He needs him to come back for more, because now that he has had a taste, Eddie is not sure he can go back to being just neighbors waving hello to each other.

He kisses the spit-slick flesh down to Steve's balls, full with his need to come, sucks one into his mouth and rolls it around before doing the same to the other.

"You're a fucking - ah - fucking tease, anyone ever tell you that?"

Eddie drops the heavy sack from his mouth and bites into the tender flesh of Steve's inner thigh, earning himself a yelp and a hard yank of his hair from Steve's hands.

"They're usually not coherent enough for that. Looks like I'll have to work harder on you." To make his point, he pushes Steve back into a lying position. "Now hold still and let me ruin you, okay?"

"Fuck. You're going to be the death of me."

Right back at you, Eddie thinks. "But what a way to go."

With that, he slides his hands down the inside of Steve's thighs to his knees, spreading them wider and using the leverage to pull Steve closer to the edge of the hood. That way Eddie's face is exactly where he wants it — level with Steve's rim. He'd planned to give it the same devouring attention as his dick, using his tongue and lips until Steve was a quivering mess above him. Then he would have added his fingers, stretching him on them, fingering him until he came without anything else.

It's a good plan. A great plan even. What isn't part of the plan, though, is the sight of something already spearing Steve open.

"Jesus Christ," Eddie breathes out as he sees the base of a black plug in Steve's ass, his eyes wide in disbelief. If being here in Steve's garage, ready to fuck each other senseless, feels like a fever dream, then this is like being dropped into a porn version of the Twilight Zone.

His eyes are glued to Steve's rim clutching a fucking buttplug, but he doesn't need to see it to hear the smirk in Steve's smug voice. "Cat got your tongue?"

That snaps Eddie out of his stupor and he looks up at Steve, who's leaning on his forearms, actually smirking down at him. "No, but there's a big ass plug where my tongue should be."

The picture Eddie just painted seems to hit Steve exactly where Eddie wanted it to, as he sees him squirm, nudging his ass closer to Eddie's face, wonderfully unashamed in his need. "So do something about it."

Eddie slowly moves his hand up Steve's leg again, letting it follow the same path as before, starting at the knee and working up the inside thigh to the crease of his groin until his thumb can trace the outer edge of the plug. The skin still has traces of lube on it and Eddie smears it around the rim, wedging the tip of his thumb between the silicone and muscle, causing Steve to hiss under his breath.

Eddie watches his finger circle the plug in amazement, consumed by the overwhelmingly hot idea of Steve prepping himself, maybe even bending over the car in his garage, one hand on the hood while the other works in the plug, his dick hanging heavy and neglected between his legs. Let him be smug, Eddie thinks, he deserves it,. Because Steve Harrington just keeps on blowing his goddamn mind.

Still, he has to poke the bear a little, because the cocky, confident side of Steve is really, really working for him.

"Were you really this confident that washing your car would get me in here?"

"If it didn't work, it still made washing it a hell of a lot more exciting," Steve counters, and doesn't that add fuel to the fire that's burning in his veins.

Eddie has no trouble imagining the way the plug would move inside Steve; its heavy weight pulling at his rim, so Steve would have to clench his hole to hold it in place. Steve’s mind would be constantly aware of it, all his senses focused on the thickness inside of him, every little movement igniting sparks of arousal. Eddie can imagine Steve moving just enough to push it against his prostate, his muscles working to suck it in deeper, tightening around it so the pressure against his inner walls would be even more intense.

Eddie is pulled out of the fantasy he's lost in when Steve tells him, "Lube and condoms are on the bench over there," nodding toward the workbench where, among tools and equipment, Eddie sees a bottle of lube and some shiny packages of condoms. He has no idea how he missed them earlier and can only blame the siren call of Steve's body.

Eddie presses a final kiss to Steve's thigh, just above where he bit earlier, and wastes no time getting up and grabbing the things he needs. Before making his way back to where Steve is waiting impatiently with hooded eyes, Eddie makes quick work of taking off his own pants and boxers. Steve's eyes turn even darker at the sight of Eddie's hard dick and Eddie can't help but give it a few tugs, putting on his own show just for Steve.

"If you don't get your ass over here in the next five seconds, I'm doing this without you," Steve almost growls, his hand already moving between his legs.

Eddie is over there in three long strides, slapping Steve's hand away and wrapping his own around Steve's dick. "Uh uh, sweetheart. That's mine today."

He puts the lube and a condom on the hood of the car next to Steve with his other hand and pulls Steve in for another open-mouthed kiss. But as Steve grows impatient, his legs wrap around Eddie's waist again, tight enough to pull him in and urge him to get on with it.

But instead of giving Steve what he wants, Eddie decides to stick to his original plan, adding the plug to torture Steve even more. He grabs Steve's knees to entangle himself from their demanding pull, and drops to his knees again. Who says he can't put his mouth on Steve with the plug still inside him?

So he does just that, bringing his mouth to Steve's rim and licking a wide strip across it before letting his tongue trace the edge of the plug. As he nudges the tip of his tongue under the edge and inside, Steve gasps as he presses his ass more firmly against Eddie's face. It's hard to smirk when your face is buried in someone's ass, but Eddie manages it anyway. Two can play this game.

Eddie brings his fingers into the mix next. He grips the plug and tugs on it, just a little, just enough to watch Steve's rim cling to it as it slowly slides an inch or two out of his ass. "Look at you, so desperate to be full, your ass gripping that plug so tight. I can't wait until it's my dick you're gripping."

Steve squirms at his words, his hips now moving relentlessly, seeking the pleasure Eddie has so far denied him.

"More. Fuck, Eddie. I need more. Come on."

And Eddie gives him more, sort of, pushing the plug back in before tugging again, this time pulling it out even further, twisting it back and forth as it slides out of Steve, glistening with lube. As he pushes it back in, his finger joins, worming its way in as well. It’s a snug fit, the pressure against his finger intense. He slides the plug and his finger in and out a few more times before finally pulling it free, going deliberately slow and reveling in the whine that leaves Steve's lips as he does so.

The plug is dropped on top of Steve's discarded shorts before he dives right back in, fastening his mouth to Steve's empty, twitching hole and pushing his tongue deep inside. Steve yelps in obvious surprise, but it soon turns into a loud, shameless moan.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," he curses, his hips undulating against Eddie's face, "you don't - hnng, yes there, fuck - have t- that's what the plug was for," Steve complains, but there is no heat in it. Or believability. Not with the way he tries to sit up and shove Eddie away, only to clench his hands in Eddie's hair, pulling his face even tighter against his grinding hips as he leans back down. Steve is greedy in his lust and Eddie has never been more turned on in his life.

Eddie keeps eating Steve out like he’s his favorite meal. The thighs clamped tightly around his head tremble and Steve sounds like he's almost crying, his voice reedy as he begs Eddie to just fuck him already. And as much as he loves reducing Steve to this wanton, needy mess, Eddie's dick is so hard it's bordering on painful.

Still, before he plunges into the tight heat that’s waiting for him, Eddie wants to make sure the plug has done its proper job first, so he coats his fingers with lube and rubs them together to warm it up. He sinks two fingers in at once, watching Steve's face intently as they slide in with ease to the last knuckle. There's no sign of discomfort, just a fucked out expression looking back at him. The third he adds is met with a little more resistance, a tiny wrinkle between Steve's eyebrows telling him it stings, but Eddie still thinks it will be fine if he goes slow. At least as slow as their desire-drunk bodies will allow.

As if reading his mind, Steve looks him in the eye and says, "I'm not made of glass, Eddie." It's not bitchy like Eddie expected, but almost soft, reassuring.

He curls his fingers inside Steve one last time, drinking in the whimper Steve can't seem to hold back, before pressing a kiss to the tip of Steve's dick. "Okay, okay, I got you."

Eddie reaches for the condom, tearing the wrapper open with his teeth (Steve's not the only one who likes to put on a show, okay) and puts it on his dick before generously coating it with more lube. It's cold on his overheated flesh, sending a shiver down his spine, but he figures it'll soon warm up once he's inside Steve.

Placing one hand next to Steve's head, he uses the other to line himself up. As he nudges against Steve's entrance, Eddie leans forward to catch Steve's lips in another kiss, sliding his tongue into Steve's mouth at the same time his head breaches Steve's rim. He swallows the gasp from Steve's mouth and pushes forward, sinking deeper and deeper into the tight clutch of Steve's ass.

They both have to catch their breath when Eddie finally bottoms out, Eddie's forehead resting against Steve's, the moment unexpectedly tender.

"Good?"

"Perfect," Steve murmurs, his eyes closing in pleasure as Eddie slowly draws back to thrust again. He's quieter now that Eddie's finally fucking him, little gasps and breathless ah ah ahs escaping him as Eddie's hips pick up speed. Eddie's so close, but he wants Steve to come first, had planned to make that happen without a hand on Steve's dick, only it looks like that won't happen before Eddie loses it himself. But as he reaches down between them to take Steve in his hand, Steve's own hand catches his, lacing their fingers together and placing their hands next to his head.

"So close, don't - don't need it, just keep going, keep going."

Without both hands to hold himself up, Eddie sinks down onto Steve, and Steve squeezes his hand as Eddie fucks into him. He's not prepared for the way this simple, sweet gesture shoots through him, his orgasm taking him completely by surprise.

"Fuck, no- oh, fuck," he moans, his pleasure too intense for words as he spills into the condom, his hips still working as aftershocks run through him.

Eddie buries his face in Steve's neck, his body still twitching but his mind starting to race. He fucked up. He had a plan and he blew it, coming too soon like a teenager just because his crush was holding his hand. Steve went out of his way to get them here, prepped himself, plugged himself, washed his car in the most indecent outfit he could find - washed his car.

Eddie remembers Steve talking about licking his cum off his car and he's struck with an idea.

He gingerly pulls out, all the while kissing Steve to distract him from the sting (and to apologize for seemingly leaving him hanging). As soon as his softening dick slips free, he stands up again, pulling Steve upright with their hands still clasped and an arm around his waist. Steve stumbles against him, catching himself with a hand on Eddie's chest. "What —"

"Oh, we're not done, sweetheart," Eddie purrs, turning Steve over so that Steve's back is to him.

He thrusts three fingers back inside Steve without warning, his other arm still wrapped around Steve's waist to keep him pressed against Eddie. His hand reaches down to grab Steve in a firm grip, spreading the copious amount of pre-cum that has pooled on the head with his thumb before he begins to slowly pump Steve. It's probably too dry, but the wounded sounds Steve makes are only one third pain and two parts pleasure, so he doesn’t stop.

Eddie's fingers fuck Steve relentlessly from behind, pumping in and out, prodding along his walls until he finds that one spot that makes Steve whimper and hump Eddie's hand. Once he’s found it, Eddie keeps his fingers there, massaging the spot until Steve comes with a hoarse scream all over his precious car.

Eddie keeps going until the sounds Steve keeps making become pitiful, the overstimulation obviously turning painful. Only then does he pull his fingers out of Steve and lets go of his dick.

Steve turns around in his arms, his weight sagging against Eddie, who happily holds him against his chest and kisses him.

They're both sticky with cum and lube and sweat but they couldn't care less about it right now. It's a sweet kiss, the softness a stark contrast to what they just did, and Eddie can't get enough. Every time one of them starts to pull away, the other follows for another kiss. It is only when Eddie feels that they are both beginning to shiver that he stops Steve from following him again with a hand that cups his cheek.

"We should get cleaned up."

"Hmmmm," Steve agrees, "we should." But he doesn't make a move to do so, just presses himself closer to Eddie. It's adorable, and Eddie can't help but kiss him on the nose for it.

"Come on, Steve. Let's go inside and clean up. Put on some dry clothes and —"

"Fuck again."

"Jesus Christ."

"Nah, you can call me Steve." Steve winks at him and Eddie wants to reaffirm his earlier thought. His neighbor is going to be the death of him. "And don't worry, we can work on your stamina next time," Steve adds, a mischievous twinkle in his hazel eyes.

Eddie can't wait.

________________________________________________________

A heartfelt shout-out and thank you to my two favorite enablers, @legitcookie and @yournowheregirl for their endless support and cheerleading. This story wouldn't be what it is without you. You're the best 💜

[moregraceful]

max and i are closing in on launching [redacted sports rpf charity fest] and i am once again pondering how do i write "experience with writing form emails and manipulating google forms in ways no one has dreamed of" in a cover letter without saying "i did it for the rpf grind"...like there's no way unless everyone in this microsoft teams meeting gets really cool about a bunch of stuff really quickly. you know

[sevennone]

150820 | east coast militia: lt. derek hines charity game

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[scopop08]

Being a hermitcraft fan has taught me so many important life lessons

Like. plastic water bottle goes in the back pocket

[champmorado]

two bugs

[femboycharles]

does anyone remember that really rly old (American?) animated film about the fish, and they had a car wash as well…and I’m not 100% sure but I think will smith did one of the voices

does that like ring a bell for anyone or did I just imagine all of this

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

What a difference 70 years makes juxtaposition of Porsche 356 S Cabriolet, 1952 & Porsche 911 Carrera S Cabriolet, 2022. To commemorate the company’s successful entry into the Carrera Panamericana Porsche Latin America and Porsche Mexico have created a special one-off that matches the appearance of the race car from the 1950s. It has been finished in Gentian blue with wheels also in blue with grey centres like the original. The brake callipers are painted black and roundels bearing the number 11 added to the sides of the car. The car has been presented ahead of the 35th running of the “modern” Carrera Panamericana. The one-off 911 will be auctioned with the proceeds going to charity

[brick-enthusiast]

Porsche 911 Turbo (997)

[eggmeralda]

do you ever feel casually suicidal? like you're not depressed or anything you're doing fine but also it feels like a convenient option

[shirtlessmoviestv]

KJ Apa : Riverdale

[maid-of-the-golden-deer]

i know most ppl on tumblr wouldnt think this the amount of ppl who qualify any mister beast crit with "but the good hes done isnt undone by this!"

honey u think hes doing anything actually good?