Minors Do Not Interact - Blog Posts

would LOOVE to read your darker fics, your writing is so amazing and i just know they’re just as good as the stuff you post here. there would definitely be a market for it!

omg i am so grateful there are people like you in fandom who are supportive of writers exploring themes that exist in the show!! i feel i should preface with: these are very different from my regular fics on my main account so please be aware of that. i don't want anyone to read something they'll be uncomfortable with. these are like 'game-of-thrones-level-dark.'

disclaimer: i don't condone anything that happens in these fics! these are works of fiction. these fics explore some themes implied in the show, but on a much deeper and visceral level. be sure to read all the tags and warnings. i've listed them as thoroughly as possible. if you get to a point where you need to back out, please do for your own comfort and mental well-being. if you don't like dark fics, don't read these fics.

adding this important disclaimer / explanation about dark fics / dark content here for those who haven't read it yet.

my two fics are linked down below under the cut! i'll be locking these fics later tonight because of the recent AI scraping, so from then on, only registered users will be able to access my fics. i'm sorry to all my lovely guest readers. if you want to make an account, it shouldn't take long at all, only a few weeks to wait for the invitation. if anyone leaves a comment, i'll gobble it up like a chocolate chip cookie and would be so grateful because comments on darker fics are rare. <3

THIS

a gentle reminder to any minors that may follow me:

i can't keep you from seeing my content, but i am NOT comfortable being mutuals with you. my engagement with the Hannibal fandom revolves around adult content and i do not want to be engaging with minors on/around these topics.

i will admit, i haven't been vetting people who don't have their age in their bios, so that's something i'm going to be better about!

that being said, if you are a minor and we are mutuals, because either i didn't do my due diligence in double and triple checking OR because you lied about your age, y'all get exactly one chance to tell me so i can unfollow you. if i find out otherwise on my own that you are a minor, you will be immediately blocked.

please help me enforce this boundary. i'm trying to keep you---and to a lesser extent, myself---as safe as i can.

Jesus christ, I wish there was a way to delete posts and it would be deleted site wide. All reblogs, quote blogs, etc.

Got this fucking child making new accounts just to message me and it's pissing me off.

I'm in my fucking 30s, go away child.

That's What You Get (Yandere!Hawks x Pregnant!Reader)

SERIOUS WARNING: This is an extremely disturbing read with themes and topics that include: suicidal tendencies, cursing, verbal abuse, blood, self-harm, infantilism, forced pregnancy, purposeful miscarriage, descriptions of gore, physical abuse and mentions of rape.

Please read with caution as you have been warned of the heavy subjects present in this story.

You wondered to yourself what you did to deserve all of this.

What god had decided to push all their anger unto your poor, unfortunate soul with such mercilessness?

What events led you to meeting a red-winged devil pretending to be an angel?

A hot hand grabbed at your hand without warning, yanking it away from your mouth. A trail of bloodied saliva followed and you only then noticed the familiar taste of blood on your tongue.

"Can you fucking stop?" Dabi hissed, turquoise eyes glaring deep into your hazed ones. "Do you want Hawks to lose his shit again?"

Yes, is what you wanted to say. You wanted Hawks to watch as you bit into your fingers with little thought. You wanted him to see how numb you were from all his abuse. You wanted him to know that he did this.

He was the reason you were broken now.

You didn't answer his question or even bother to truly look at him, only bringing your other hand to your mouth and biting down.

Your nail cracked against your teeth and felt slight satisfaction when Dabi cursed again and had to grab both your hands to keep you from doing any further damage to yourself.

"God dammnit, Y/N!" He growled, grabbing the attention of nearby league members scattered about the hideout. "Can someone please take this stupid bitch? I am not babysitting that hero's fuck doll today!"

Entering the room with a long sigh, Mr. Compress switched places with the purple-skinned villain, a first aid kit in tow.

When Dabi exited from the room, a dry chuckle left you but disappeared just as quickly as it came.

That's how most feelings worked for you now. They'd come and go. You were never allowed to truly feel anything for longer than 10 seconds.

Compress eyed you disappointingly, "It's not funny, Y/N." He scolded as he began to wrap your fingers, "Hawks told you to take better care of yourself. The more you put yourself at risk, the harder this pregnancy will be in the long run.

You stilled at that, nausea rising to your throat at the painful memories of Hawks holding you down against the cold, tiled floor and his warm, smooth cum filling your bruised cunt to the brim despite your cries.

That was followed by many more nights painted the same way.

A month later, you found out you were pregnant after Hawks had tested your toilet water.

The bastard was happier than ever but that happiness went right out the window when he caught you attempting to throw yourself down a set of stairs later that day. You'd even looked him in the eyes as you'd started to fall.

It was too bad that he'd caught you. That fall definitely would've done the trick.

After numerous other attempts, the hero finally decided that while he was gone, someone had to be with you at all times for both you and the baby's parasite's protection.

"Done-" Compress finished wrapping the bandages around you fingers, "-Have you eaten lunch yet?"

No, you hadn't. You hadn't moved from your curled position on the couch since Hawks left way earlier that morning.

To please Compress, you ate a few bites of what he made you and sipped some of the soup Hawks had packed for you.

Soon, you were back in your corner of the couch, filling in the permanent dent that you’d made from sitting there for so long.

You shivered as you hugged yourself.

Despite wearing a sweater and leggings with thick socks, you always felt so cold. Even if you were sweating, you were still cold.

You wondered why that was.

And now that you were left alone with your thoughts, you began to wonder other things.

Was your family regretting giving you to Hawks?

How long had it been since you'd seen them?

Did they even care?

What would they think if you escaped now and showed up pregnant?

Would they even believe you if you told them what Hawks did?

They’d probably think you were a slut.

A good for nothing whore that would do anything to get money.

Your head felt like it was about to explode.

Everything felt so meaningless now.

Why did this happen to you? Why couldn't you get control of your life again?

You placed a hand on your stomach, feeling the small hump that would soon be bigger and heavier in just a few months.

And then you'd have to push it out while it tore your pussy apart. Then you'd have to heal for who knows how long, taking care of a screaming, shitting lump while Hawks goes out and lives however he pleases.

As he always has.

...

Were you really supposed to just sit here and accept that?

That's what Hawks wanted you to do.

But how the hell could you?

"Baby, I'm back!" Hawks beamed as he walked up to you, stealing a kiss to your cheek. His smiled faded slightly, however, when he saw your bandaged fingers, "Aw, (Y/N), were you biting your fingers again?"

You didn't answer. You never really did anymore, much to his annoyance.

He sighed deeply and turned to Compress, asking him about how you'd done throughout the day. His expression only soured further at the villain's words and he glanced down at you with unimpressed eyes.

"Alright, thank you guys again for watching her-" He picked you up bridal style, "We'll be back next week as discussed."

The flight home was eerily quiet. You could tell that Hawks was upset with you. But he couldn't be nearly as upset as you were. But you knew he never thought about how you felt.

Everything was always about him.

When you both got home to his condominium, he sat you on the couch, unwrapping and examining your damaged fingers.

His lips were downturned and his brows were furrowed. His golden eyes weren't as bright as they'd been previously.

He wasn't happy with you at all.

Good.

His face made you giddy for some reason and you couldn't stop the corners of your lips from twitching upwards. It was so great that you could almost laugh with genuine joy.

Hawks' snapped his eyes up to you with wide, unbelieving eyes.

Shit, you must've laughed without realizing it.

No, wait.

You were crying.

"Oh, (Y/N), it's alright.” He cooed, “I know you'll do better for me and the baby next time, right?" That was a threat and you felt your mood plunge at the mention of the baby parasite resting in you. "Right?"

"Yeah..." You mumbled robotically. You could give less shits about the baby.

Hawks wasn't happy with how you'd responded but shrugged it off with a mumble of 'pregnancy hormones' and started to make dinner.

Ever since he’d found out you were pregnant, he made you take it easy. No unnecessary movement, as he liked to phrase it.

“So…” Keigo started, washing some rice in a bowl, “you’ve got your first appointment coming up next week. How’d’ya feel?”

You touched your growing stomach underneath your loose t-shirt. Was it really time for that?

No, no this couldn’t be.

If Hawks made you wait too long, you won’t be able to get rid of it and then you’ll really be stuck.

Nausea came back full force and you retched aloud, stomach curling. You turned away from the table and threw up the little bit of lunch you’d had earlier.

Keigo was by your side in a flash, rubbing your back when you continued to retch and gag.

“The morning sickness is becoming more frequent now, huh?” He asked, “Here, rinse your mouth with some water.” His feathers brought over a small cup of water and a bowl for you to spit into.

After rinsing your mouth out, you glanced up at Keigo, something you hadn’t done in a long time and saw how he visibly brightened when you did so.

“Please, Kei… I don’t-I don’t want this.” You told him honestly, your voice heavy with misery.

He instantly frowned at that, lips turning downwards and eyes going sharp, “What did I tell you about talking like that, (Y/N)? What the hell is wrong with you?!” He snapped, feathers shaking.

You stared at him as if he weren’t there and shrugged, “I guess you won’t know until the baby’s dead.”

“You don’t mean that.” He seemed to be telling himself that because deep down… deep down he knew that you meant it. “(Y/N), you don’t mean that.”

You felt the corners of your mouth lift again, “I’m not going to my first appointment because there will be no baby. Hell, there weren’t even be a (Y/N) to take to the appointment.” Now you were really smiling, no more tears to give.

Hawks feathers shook more, a hopeless look graced his features as he brought a hand to his mouth, “(Y/N), I-“ He looked away from your wide smile and void eyes, he couldn’t stand to look at you anymore, “What is happening to you? A baby is supposed to make you happy! Why isn’t this working?”

He walked away without another word, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

A burning smell caught your attention and you stepped over your vomit puddle to turn off the chicken he was cooking on the stove.

You took the pan off the still hot burner and placed it on the back one.

If only a burn could kill you.

A glint in your peripheral vision caught your eye and you snapped your head towards the sink. Your eyes widened.

There, like the forbidden fruit, sat a large kitchen knife. You realized Keigo must’ve left it when he was arguing with you.

Now was your chance.

You gripped the knife in both your hands.

You hadn’t seen a knife in so long. Keigo had locked them up when you started ‘acting up’.

You lifted it above your head.

Deep breath in.

Hold it.

You swiftly brought the knife down into your stomach. It slid right in like butter and you surprisingly didn’t feel anything.

With a shaky breath, you looked down and stumbled awkwardly as you struggled to pull the knife back out.

Blood started to soak your t-shirt and stain it dark red. A metallic smell clung to the air and you raised the knife above your head again.

This was easier than you’d thought.

You brought the knife down at an angle and groaned, the pressure of your stab felt like a punch.

One more stab should do the trick.

“(Y/N), I got off the phone with your pediatrician,” Keigo started from the bedroom you both shared, “Turns out, you’re just going through a pregnancy depr- (Y/N)!” He screamed seeing the blood on the ground.

Feathers shot towards you and you smiled wildly as you were pinned to the ground.

Keigo turned you on your side and you let go of the knife, letting it stay in your stomach.

There was no need to do anything else. You’d gotten rid of it for good.

He sobbed loudly in your face, his eyes screaming with despair. He didn’t even recognize you anymore, just like how you hadn’t recognized him for a long time now.

His screams of why were only met with one answer.

“Because, that’s what you get.”

Hi! I'm Nataniel! Feel free to know more about me !

19 yrs old.

He/him ; she/her with women.

Peruvian.

Eng/Esp.

My blog is a safe space for people from different cultures, ethnicities, genders, neurodivergencies, romantic and sexual orientations and more!

Nazis and fascists scumbags OUT, transphobes, pedos, maps, misogynistic idiots and such are NOT welcome.

I worship woman from hours on end, I truly believe they are better than anyone else and it shows in my works.

Any character that is canonically a bad person will not receive good treatment here. Request it but don't expect any fluff or shit.

Requests are always open!

•°. Limits .°•

Minors do not interact

... Beware.

I write sweet content, fluff, headcanons, situations, agre regression (not ageplay), comfort and more!

I write mature content: smut, angst, death, abuse, violence, mental health ; everything tagged with warnings beforehand.

I handle topics like abuse (mental, emotional, physical, sexual), mental health and violence with extreme care, I do not romanticize and never blame the victims of these situations/crimes, as a victim myself I understand and just wish to portray real situations and the aftermaths of these in artworks that intend to show the way the mind works from my understanding.

I do not write content such as ageplay, incest, trauma kinks. But I do interact with such content from time to time, so be aware of it.

I do not write and/or interact with content that portrays illegal fetishes that imply animals, children, abuse, or such. I am against the romanticism of illegal content and will block everyone who interacts with it.

As I said, every topic regarding abuse and violence are handled from the view of fighting against it and the effects it has in mental health, never to fantasize in sexual ways or in a predatory way, so no comments about it being fetishist will be tolerated.

Would you like to read my content?

Check out my masterlist 🪬

See ya 💋🪬

Shut down the world and open your mind...

Can you feel it?

Nataniel Kovack

He/him ; she/her with women only.

19 years old

10-02-06 ; 10:30 am

Aquarius

Baby witch

Intuition guides me

Hi! My name is Natan. I'm Peruvian, left side feminist that truly believes women are better. I talk english and Spanish. I'm gonna be writing concepts, one shots, headcanons and more! Feel totally free to add requests, but make sure to read my limits first.

Minors DNI DNF ; tw for sensitive content always!

I'm genderfluid (fem +) and I do not tolerate any kind of bad behaviors. I will always stand with women so don't even dare disrespect them in my blog or ever.

I do not tolerate any actions of transphobia, homophobia, hate towards women, glorification of abuse, romanticized crimes (pedophilia, zoophilia, abuse.) And I do not tolerate proshippers, have some manners and behave here. Everyone who doesn't will get blocked.

Thanks for reading!

Minors do not interact, this is an 18+ blog.

CW: Hard kinks (ex. CNC, kidnapping, blood), BDSM, horror, etc.

╰─ - ̗̀✎ About Me...

୨୧┇Name: Grumpy

୨୧┇Pronouns: She/her

୨୧┇Rel Status: Taken

୨୧┇Sexuality: Bi Demi

୨୧┇Age: 23

୨୧┇Likes: Lord of the Rings, Dead by Daylight, moths, knives, my cats, horror movies, stuffed animals

୨୧┇Dislikes: Anything to do with teeth, seafood, heights

My blog is for me to just reblog random stuff I enjoy. I am not looking to interact with others outside of that.

A lil sketchy of Stanford while I'm at work. I have a fic idea in mind that I might write out soon...

Separate from my usual ososan obsession bs but- beating each other into unconcious bloodly pulps inside a car for a hours on end as a innuendo for fuckin in a car is pretty peak writing imo

This part in the Honda odyssey scene specifically

😑

What is unclear about “minors do not interact”???? and “no minors”???

Did minors stop reading or something???? Or is it just blatantly disrespecting my boundaries??

Where Broken Hearts go to Heal (2/?)

Pairings: collegehockeycoach! Andy Barber x female college sweetheart reader

Warnings: college sweethearts, the one that got away, soulmates, angst, sad Andy, explicit sexual content- unprotected sex- a lot of it, explicit language (must be 18+)

Word Count: ~2.5K

A/N: for some reason, this one’s got me nervous. Please be gentle.

Not beta read. All mistakes are my own ❤️

Coach B x his sweetheart

Lucky Charms: hockey AU

"And he didn't realize he was printing the entire textbook..." you smiled as Andy returned to the back booth at your old watering hole, handing you a beer before he slid in next to you.

You had politely accepted when his captain's offered to buy you a drink, and Andy? Well he begrudgingly accompanied you.

"Alright" Andy smiled affectionately at you, "that's enough story telling" he said, playfully, but the low timbre of his voice made you shiver slightly, stomach fluttering with butterflies when he wrapped an arm around you, tugging you a little closer to him.

"Come on, Coach B" Steve smiled from ear-to-ear, watching as a few drinks helped you and Andy fall so comfortably back into old habits, "sounds like you were quite the Casanova."

"Takes one to know one” Ari laughed.

"You're one to talk, Levs" Steve smirked, "you could get more tail than me if ya weren't hung up on your best friend" he jabbed innocently before turning his attention back to you.

"So come on, Coach B's college sweetheart..." Steve continued, as Andy let out a heavy exhale accompanied by his signature frown.

You smiled at the young man sitting across from you, nodding for Steve to continue while you discretely ran your knuckles down the length of Andy's thigh- something you used to do to soothe him. Andy's gaze dipped to your face, smiling affectionately to himself as he leaned into that familiar reassuring touch.

"Did Coach B get a lot of ladies?" Steve asked as Ari rolled his eyes at his fellow captain's intrusive question.

"He did" you bit back your smile as Andy grumbled something under his breath, rolling his eyes while taking a long swig of his beer.

"I knew it" Steve laughed, "I told you he was a ladie's man... didn't I, Levs?" Steve goaded, clapping Ari on the back as he signaled the bartender for another round.

"Until I met y/n" Andy clarified, reluctantly joining the conversation. Never one to share much of his personal life with his athletes.

"And the 400 page textbook?" Ari asked, smiling softly at you from across the booth as you felt a heat wash over your face.

"You really just told them our whole story?" Andy teased you, his arm dipping behind your back to find purchase at the soft curve of your hip, "how long was I at the bar?" he murmured against your ear.

"Not our whole story..." you smiled, leaning into him with a carefree laugh while Andy tucked you into his side, "just our meet-cute."

Andy shook his head letting out an exaggerated exhale as he listened to you tell the story of how you met. Andy's chest bloomed, warming his tender heart, watching you with a sadness in his eyes. A sadness for everything he had missed. Everything he had wanted so badly but was too stupid or too young to know how to hold on to…

"That was fun" you smiled up at him, shivering before he reached around you, tucking you into his wool coat with him as you left the bar a little over an hour later.

"Come on, sweetheart" Andy smiled, "let me drive you home."

"I'll just call a rideshare" you said, pressing your hand to his chest to steady yourself as you stopped.

There was a quiet beat where you just stared at each other before you both broke with fond giggles.

"You... wanna get some coffee?" Andy asked, hopeful that he could stretch the night out a little longer.

"Um... it's kinda getting late" you smiled, looking at your phone, "you sure you don't need to get home for the alumni event tomorrow?"

"I'm OK" Andy said and you smiled, agreeing to coffee as he helped you to his car.

Instead of going to a cafe or coffee shop you both decided Andy's place would be a better fit if you didn't want to be surrounded by college kids.

As Andy pulled into his garage you smiled at the hockey gear and skates hanging neatly on hooks along the garage wall.

Andy cut the engine, getting out of his car and quickly making it to your side to help you out. When you got inside he shrugged off his coat and hung his keys on a set of hooks just below a large mirror.

Andy's place was nice. After toeing off your shoes you walked around in your stocking feet admiring his living room while Andy busied himself with the coffee maker in the kitchen.

Andy's place felt like a home. It was warm and inviting, yet neat and orderly- just how you remembered him.

"I really like your place" you called to him.

"Thanks... it's too big for just me" Andy called back from the kitchen, "you want some cookies or something?"

"Sure" you smiled, remembering Andy's sweet tooth, fondly.

Your fingers danced along his bookshelves, reading jacket covers and smiling at a few framed photos of Andy's hockey team after college. Playing professional hockey across seas. Andy had played in several other countries, hoping his time would come to play for the NHL. He made it as far as a taxi squad but didn't make it on the official roster. Ending his hockey playing career about 9 years after college.

You heard Andy behind you before he said anything, quietly taking his place at your side as he watched you look at all the old photos. He had discarded his suit coat and his tie, his shirt unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up casually.

"You really did it" you said, smiling softly at a moment frozen in time that had shattered your entire heart all those years ago.

"I did" Andy said, but he wasn't even looking at the photo you were talking about, too busy studying your face for a reaction.

Truth be told- that moment in your life had crushed your soul. Andy's too. He loved the game too much to say goodbye. So instead, he said goodbye to you. And it was the biggest mistake of his life.

Andy didn't even realize he was holding his breath until you shot him a soft nervous smile. All of this a little heavy for the first time seeing each other in some five years.

"I'm happy for you, Andy" you broke the silence, glancing back at the photos, "you really got everything you wanted."

"No, I didn't" he scoffed, eyes watery as he frowned at the photo frames with contempt, "I lost everything that actually mattered to me... I lost you" he blinked back his tears, looking down at you quickly before turning away and clearing his throat with a cough.

You didn't know what to say. There was a part of your heart that would belong to Andy forever. But could it really be that easy? Move back to town and just pick up where you had left off?

Andy had his hands on his hips- a stance you were familiar with whenever he was upset or gathering his thoughts.

"Andy?" you tried, but he didn't say anything. You saw his shoulders rise and fall with a deep exhale. The weight of both your broken hearts his burden to bear.

You took a steadying breath before taking a step towards him, your heart hammering in your chest as you reached out, tugging his hand from his hip and lacing your fingers together. Andy looked down letting you pull him gently until he was facing you and your palms were touching.

"Andy?" you tried again, looking up at the one that got away. His eyelids fluttered shut, unable to meet your gaze as tears spilled silently down his cheeks. You reached up to swipe a tear with the pad of your thumb, "I'm here" you whispered, fighting back your own tears.

Andy's lips were on yours before you knew what was happening. A surprised squeak escaped you as he groaned into the kiss, his brows furrowed, pressing his forehead to yours and breaking the kiss just as quickly as it started.

"Hey..." you whispered breathlessly, head swimming with the touch of Andy Barber’s lips on yours, unable to contain the smile that broke so wide across your face, it was painful.

Andy's hands were at your waist, eyes screwed shut as if he couldn't bring himself to look at you. The pain of losing all those years hurt too damn much.

"Andy... look at me" you said, reaching up and framing his face gently as you angled his gaze to yours.

You let your fingers rake through his beard, tiptoeing up and pressing your soft lips to the deep crease set between his eyebrows.

A chocked sob escaped Andy's throat before he crashed his lips to your again, lifting you clear off the floor and helping you wrap your legs around his waist.

You were both crying, gasping softly when Andy  licked into your mouth, tasting you with a deep groan. The air punched from your lungs when your back hit the nearest wall and Andy murmured a watery apology against your lips.

You could feel the steely length of him pressed against where you needed him most as you rocked your hips into him, arms wrapped around his neck as you pressed into his chest.

"Sweetheart... you sure about this?" Andy's question came as a grunt against your lips.

"Yes... fuck, yes" you moaned, "please, Andy... fuck... I need to feel you" you moaned, mindlessly and Andy dropped you to your feet without another word. He worked quickly, stripping you out of your leggings and panties and throwing them aside. You made quick work of Andy's belt, letting his pants slide over his narrow waist and to the floor as he finished the buttons of his shirt, adding it to the pile of clothes at your feet.

Andy kicked his pants off, kneeling before you could pull him in for another kiss. He lifted his jersey, pressing his warm lips to your belly before kissing down to your mound. You were trembling as you opened up for him, fingers combing through his hair when he nuzzled into you, a firm kiss to your clit, breathing in the familiar scent of you.

"Fuck" he rasped, pressing another kiss to your clit as you gasped, tugging at the roots of his hair when he licked up the cut of you.

"Fuck" he groaned again, "I missed your taste, sweetheart" his tongue fucking into your quivering hole and pulling a keen from the back of your throat.

It didn't take long until your first orgasm was smeared across Andy's beard, trembling as he pulled his jersey and your bra up over your head so he could kiss his way back up your body. When he got to your lips, he pressed you into the wall with a possessive, toe curling kiss, only breaking it to chain kisses down the column of your neck.

"Please, Andy" you whimpered, fingers tangling in his dark chest hair before running down his chiseled lean body, tracing the trail of hair that disappeared below his waistband. When you dipped your hand into his boxers, fisting his thick weeping cock, Andy hissed.

He pulled his boxers down, freeing his cock as you stroked him with one hand, taking a handful of his firm ass in the other.

Catching the back of your thighs and lifting you up his body, your back bowed into him when you felt his swollen head catch at your fluttering entrance. Andy held the base of his cock, pulling away enough to watch you as he slowly pushed every throbbing inch into your wanting hole.

"Oh, god" you moaned, bottoming out as your cunt hugged him impossibly tight. The familiar stretch felt like home as he let you adjust.

"You keep making those pretty sounds and I'm not gonna last very long, sweetheart" Andy grunted hot against your ear as he pulled out, slamming back into you with a heady groan.

His pace was relentless, making up for lost time as he took back every lost orgasm. Fucking you through 2 more orgasms against the wall until you both ended up on the floor, pliant and panting against his glistening chest.

"Fuck... y/n..." he chuckled, your bodies still connected as you listened to his heartbeat, straddling him, "haven't fucked like that since… college..."

"I really hope you're referring to me" you smirked, sitting up and pushing up on your knees to press a kiss to his lips.

"Of course I'm referring to you" his laugh was warm as you sat back on his cock, his words dying in a grunt when your pussy choked the long length of him.

"You trying to kill me, sweetheart?" he smirked up at you, "not as young as I used to be..."

"You look like you're in pretty good shape to me" you goaded, your knees pressed into the rug, palms on his chest as you began rocking your hips over him faster.

"Oh, god... I could get used to this" you moaned, one hand running up your body to pinch at your nipple while bringing your other hand to your clit, fingers rubbing tight circles as the knot in your belly began to fray.

"You better" Andy groaned, shifting on the rug until his feet were flat on the floor, you whimpered when he gripped bruises into your hips and slammed up into you.

"Please..." you whined, holding on to Andy's waist, the knot fraying with each snap of his hips until his thrusts started to falter.

"Christ... oh fuck... fuck" Andy grunted, flipping you onto your back as he thrust impossibly deep and stilled, balls drawing into him as he painted your insides with his hot release while you trembled around him. His release bringing on yours as you moaned his name, Andy working you blissfully through your orgasm before he collapsed, fully sated, on your chest.

Your eyelids fluttered, heavy as you fought to open them, body feeling deliciously sore when your mind finally registered that Andy was carrying you, cradled to his chest, up the stairs to his bedroom. You felt the bed dip as he lowered you onto the soft mattress.

"Andy?" you whimpered when he left, going to his en-suite and returning with a washcloth to clean you up before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"What time is it?" you whispered into the dark.

"It's late, sweetheart" he said, climbing into bed next to you, "sleep" he urged, softly.

"You don't mind if I stay?" you asked, no real intent of leaving the warmth of his chest ever again.

"Fuck... I never want you to leave" he sighed, happy for the first time in a really long time as he drifted into a peaceful sleep. Finding his home again after all these years.

The hockey dividers were made by the lovely and talented @firefly-graphics ❤️

This is the original Coach B from my Lucky Charms: hockey AU even though someone tried to plagiarize it. Thanks for supporting original fanfic content ❤️

As always, thank you for all the love and support. Please check out my archive blog where I only post new fics @drabblewithfrannybarnesfics ❤️

"galaxy rangers and knights of beauty...who would let us join forces?"

hi, my name is chuck! im 20, autistic + adhd, transgender and i want some friends. no minors!!🚫

im really big on videogames right now, so ill list some i enjoy:

honkai star rail

red dead redemption 2

genshin impact

roblox

splatoon 2 and 3

mario games on the switch

mascot horror

visual novel games

i also enjoy singing, music, character design, and animation

lets be friends if this interests you!!

note: i dont reply to ageless blogs. i will flat out ignore you if i dont know whether or not youre around my age.

"do not be crass, my silver cowboy!"

This is a seroius topic! Mentions of Stalking,Murder and Grape! And Minors DNI!😡

Hello! I’d like to address the fact how a lot of people like yandere’s! Its “okay” to like them even if its pretty twisted…but I don’t like the fact how people say “I wish they were real” or “Its okay its just a game” but its not okay I dont care if its a game its still digusting DO NOT try to justify anything they do! Stalking,Murder,Grape, and much more isn’t okay and will never be okay! And NO we shouldnt like them you can still like them but that doesnt mean its okay and if they were real that would be awful please dont justify this stuff!

You dont know if there might be children in the fandoms your in for example YBG, TKATB, MDHM, BC, I know children shouldnt be in there but there stills a possibilty and if you justify that stuff the kids in there might think its okay and might start doing it and I DO NOT want that happening to children so please be mindful in your fandom and, if you can please do not justify the things they do. Espically on social media! With that good morning, good evening, and good night <3 Stay safe yandere lovers and protect the children!

No hate to the creators of the games btw thay do try there best to keep children away but they still find ways to interact with the games with websites like youtube, billibi, and most importantly tumblr!

No f'ing minors.

Seriously, folks.  If you’re under 18, you shouldn’t be following me, and you shouldn’t be interacting with me.  Not only is it not legal, I’ve also made it quite clear that I don’t consent to having you on my blog.  It’s not because I’m being a big mean jerk, but to protect both of us.  If I see you interacting with my blog while you’re under the age of 18, I will immediately block you.

If you want to come back to my blog on your 18th birthday and ask for me to remove the block, I will gladly do so.  You can go ahead and blow it up with likes and reblogs to make up for lost time, and I’ll welcome you back with open arms and all of the kinky content you could possible want.  But before that time comes, this is not the place for you. 

I respect the fact that minors can have kinks and are curious about them and their sexuality.  But your behavior can put actual adults in legal danger depending on the laws in your country or mine.  Plus there are predators in kink spaces that wouldn’t hesitate to manipulate and groom young folks in bad ways. Be patient, be responsible, and show that you are a good person by respecting the boundaries of others.  We’ll still be here once you’re a legal adult. ❤️

♡

Spicy Gyaru Pixel Art

I say MINORS DO NOT INTERACT not because minors make me uncomfortable and not because I wouldn't want to interact with you as a minor. It's because I know my content is NOT suitable for you (it's not suitable even for some kinds of people over eighteen years of age). I know FROM EXPERIENCE, I started reading dark stuff even before I was 18 and it was HARMFUL for me, trust me, I KNOW. I don't want you to go through the same shit I went through because of that.

I am sure many of you (minors) read worse things, those popular smut novels and so, but here it is not the place for you. Please RESPECT YOURSELF AND PROTECT YOURSELF!

hello

"He's an idiot." Steve Harrington x Female!Reader

❥ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6k

❥ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sweet!Steve Harrington x Female!Reader

❥ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: After being stood up by Eddie Munson, you run into Steve Harrington on the walk home from the trailer park. He lends you listening ear and a ride—and instead of taking you home, he takes you to his.

❥ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: MDNI! 18+ content! Explicit language. Smut with undertones of fluff, and a little angst (if you squint). Unprotected penetrative sex, f!receiving oral sex, past casual relationship with Eddie.

❥ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: My first post, nerve wracking as hell !! I think I got a bit carried away !

You stare at the phone blankly after hanging it up. It was a call that you had been all but unfamiliar with receiving, but it conflicted you all the same each time. And always went the same way. He would make fake niceties, ask you shallow questions about your day and try to keep up some small talk before, inevitably, asking the same damn question. 

“Do you wanna come over tonight?”

You huffed in annoyance each time, making a half-hearted attempt to resist and trying to conjure up some lame excuse not to, but each time you would end the call with a reluctant ‘Fine, Eddie, I’ll be there.’ You hated yourself for being persuaded so easily. It was basically routine at this point, and it was stupid of you to even pick up the phone in the first place. As soon as you heard his voice on the other line, you should’ve hung up on him. You always think these things are so easy to do until you have to do them, until you hear his sultry voice pleading on the other end of the phone for just one more time. You let yourself think, in that moment, that maybe it’ll be different for once. It’s a stupid, short-lived belief.

Even so, you find yourself sat in front of your vanity again, brushing your hair and curling your eyelashes in hopes of impressing him. Maybe if your cheeks are a little more rosy, your eyelids a little more colourful, he might change how he feels about you. He might come to the revelation that he wants more than just sex this time. You know your efforts are futile, as long as your clothes are easy to take off he couldn’t care less about anything else, but it makes you feel better for a few moments to let yourself believe otherwise is true. You reluctantly slip on a matching set of underwear, lacy and baby pink. Very intentional. You know you look good, and you know that Eddie will appreciate it. You realize that this is the reason he expects the same thing every time—because you deliver it. You curse yourself for it. Shaking the thought from your head, you step into a short pink dress, throwing a cable-knit cardigan on top. 

You try not to think as you walk down the stairs, out of your house, and down the street to his. You consider turning back about a million times, but you end up at his trailer before you can actually muster the courage to do it. You knock on the door a couple times, waiting patiently, stupidly, for a response. Then again when you don’t receive an answer, the action proving ultimately as useless as the first one. You raise onto your tiptoes to try peek through the window, and you find that the trailer is completely empty inside. Your face grows warm as you look around the trailer park, realizing no one is around or waiting for you. 

Tears threaten your eyes, and you forcefully blink them away before they get the chance to well. You shake your head, promising yourself that you won’t be brought down by the behaviour of Eddie Munson. Not again. You turn and make your way back down the street, your shoulders slumping. The street is desolate and lifeless, the late hour clearing the pedestrians from wandering and leaving you alone on the road. That is, until headlights shine from behind you, casting your shadow on the concrete front of you. 

A familiar burgundy BMW slows as it approaches, stopping beside you. The tinted window rolls down, and you’re met with the face of Steve Harrington. You brush a stray hair from your face, then attempt to clean the smudged mascara from beneath your eyes with the knuckle of your thumb.

“Hey, L/N,” he drapes his arm over the door, “what are you doing out here?” he asks, his eyebrow cocked as he looks up and down the dark street. You’re slightly surprised to hear the concern in his voice. Although, you suppose, you’ve seen him around and you hang around a lot of the same people. Besides, it’s kind of impossible to roam the halls of Hawkins High School and never hear the name King Steve. You’ve had quite a bit of interaction with this boy, but the significance of your friendship only really occurs to you the moment that he stops his drive to talk to you. 

You shrug your shoulders, and you feel your cheeks grow rosy as you realize you have to find a way to avoid telling him the truth for the sake of your own dignity. He raises an eyebrow at you, “It’s late, you know,” he says, pointing out the obvious. You feign a small, agreeing smile, nodding your head as you avert your gaze to the ground. You open your mouth to speak, hesitating when you try to figure out what to say, “I know. I, um,” you shake your head, “I was just on the way home.”

He’s clearly dissatisfied with your response, concern still evident on his face when he tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. “That’s awfully vague,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “Here, you want a ride?” he asks, gripping the stick shift and switching back into drive, his gaze unwavering. 

You blink at him, slightly surprised by the invitation, “No, that's okay, Steve.”

You purse your lips into a polite smile, and he gives you a disapproving frown along with a quick, dismissive shake of his head. He opens the door opposite to him, a gesture for you to get in. His tone is persistent but gentle, “Come on.” He cocks his head toward the empty seat beside him, “Let me at least get you off the street. You can chill at my place, just to… you know, not be alone.”

You carefully consider his offer, pulling your lower lip between your teeth in thought, a subconscious attempt to suppress the smile that tries to pull your cheeks. You dip your chin, soon decidedly trotting your way around the front of his car and slipping through the passenger door. His arm crosses your body as he shuts it beside you with a soft thud, before he returns his grip back to the steering wheel. You lay your hands in your lap, watching yourself fiddle with your fingers. It’s hard not to think about the fact that you’ve never been alone with this boy. The car is quiet for a beat, the low hum of the engine bringing ambience to the space. You realize that you feel a bit less lonesome now, being in this car with him. A wave of gratitude washes over you, and you wonder if he knows that he’s saved you from a harrowing, pitiful night at home alone. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, needlessly ashamed to say it. 

He shakes his head, “Don’t mention it,” he says as he turns to look at you, his expression curious once again. “Where were you coming from?” 

You scrunch your nose and bring your gaze back down to your nervous, fidgeting fingers. “Nowhere,” you lie, the familiarity of embarrassment crawling up your neck. 

He gives you a comforting half-smile, his eyes shifting back to the road now that he has you talking, the engine turning and thrusting the vehicle forward. “No, come on.”

You hide your face with your hands, an action you realize is meaningless as he’s not even looking at you anymore, “God, it’s embarrassing.”

He smiles amusedly when he senses your unease. He remains wordless, the quiet itself urging you to continue. “I went to… um, Eddie’s place.” The words leave your mouth reluctantly, humiliating and heavy on your tongue. 

You see his eyes widen a bit as he processes what you’ve said. “No kidding,” He says with a scoff, disbelief heavy in his voice. “Munson?”

Your chest tightens, and you’re unsure if you’re more ashamed by your actions or Steve’s reaction. “Yes, Munson,” you huff, “but nothing happened.” 

He seems to lose some amusement from your clarification, potentially hoping for a juicier outcome. To your surprise, he doesn’t press any further. You were glad to see him bring his focus back to the road, going back to quietly navigating the stark streets for the remainder of the drive. You watch the unlit houses go by through the window, cruising by streets you only faintly recognize. Before you know it, Steve is pulling into his driveway and leading you up the small steps to his front door. He coolly unlocks it and opens it for you, welcoming you into the darkness of his living room. Light creeps in from a small light in the kitchen, allowing you to just barely make out the outline of his furniture.

You squint your eyes, lingering in his foyer once you’ve hung up your sweater. He sets down his keys and heads towards his staircase. “Are your parents home?” you ask tentatively.

“Nope,” he replies, “they’re in Chicago for the weekend.”

He throws the words away, moving into his house without a second thought, apparently used to being alone. It’s only when he disappears into the kitchen that you think to catch up to him, finding him with a crisp can of Coke already opened. He leans against the open door of his refrigerator, his head tipping back as he takes a swig. You stand in the doorway, your eyes trailing up his exposed neck, moles sparsely trickling along his flesh and adams apple as it bobs with deep gulps. Your eyes snap back to his face when he speaks again, “Want something to drink?” 

You shake your head and murmur a sheepish ‘That’s okay, thank you’. He nods and moves past you, travelling across the long distance between his kitchen and his living room. You follow behind him, your head turning every which way to take in his house. It’s spacious, tasteful, but you can’t help but notice its overbearing hollowness. The halls are empty and dark, any sign of liveliness or family apparently absent. You wonder how often his parents must be gone for the house to be this pristine, practically untouched. You clear your throat, taking a seat next to him on the couch, sure to keep a safe distance between the two of you. 

“What were you doing at Eddie’s house?” Steve questions you again, breaking the silence and setting his elbows on his knees. You recognize an edge that suggests more than just innocent curiosity; an insistence that makes you wonder if he’s truly interested in your answer rather than simply enticed by the gossip. 

“Um,” you wet your lips, “he wasn’t even there, actually.” Your mouth dries up as you say it, the reminder digging a pit in your stomach. He tilts his head to the side, clearly not understanding.

“Hm? Why not?” 

You raise your shoulders, letting out a soft, defeated sigh. “He was supposed to be.”

Uncertainty flickers on his face, and his expression softens when he realizes the implication. “Oh,” he utters, his voice quieter now, “I see.” He leans back against the couch, looking down at his lap. 

“It’s not a big deal,” the words tumble out, quick to reassure him. “We’re not, like, together or anything. Just… kinda sucks.” His eyes find yours as you speak, actively searching for any sign of doubt on your face. You press your lips together, “It’s fine.”

“Okay,” he nods slowly, not entirely convinced of your apathy. “Well, he’s a dick, you hope you know.” 

Your lips curl, eased by his attempt to sympathize with your being stood up. You wave him off. “Oh, whatever.” 

“Seriously,” he persists, rolling his eyes as he takes another sip of his Coke.

You shrug your shoulders, “It’s Eddie.”

“I guess. Still a dick move,” his voice softens. “I mean, no dude should get to stand anyone up.” He pauses for a moment, seemingly careful to choose the right words. “You don't deserve that. You’re… a really nice girl.”

“Nice?”

Steve keeps your gaze when he continues, “Yeah. He’s a moron.” He tsks. “If I had someone like you coming over…” He trails off, unsure of whether or not he should continue. 

“What?” you ask curiously.

“I mean—look at you. I’d be waiting at the door."

“Really?” you say. As if you need to hear it again to fully understand what he means. 

He swallows dryly, setting his can onto the coffee table and, in turn, settling closer to you. “Come on, you’re gorgeous.” He says simply. 

His leg brushes yours, and he doesn’t pull away. You nod, mostly to yourself, and try not to smile too obviously as you look down at your lap. “Thank you,” you mutter quietly enough that you’re not sure if he hears it. There’s no indication even once you look back at him, but you realize that he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. You feel your cheeks burn up, and you hope he doesn’t notice the pinkish-red that tends to slither up your neck when you get nervous. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard that a million times, though.”

You purse your lips, somehow embarrassed not to have been told something when you have no control over whether or not you’re told. You try to shrug it off, “Not really.”

Steve is visibly puzzled by this. “No?” He asks inquisitively. 

“You know,” you say, trying to feign indifference. “Eddie’s not really… a talker.”

“‘Not really a talker’? What does that mean?” he replies, as if there’s no way he could be interpreting this correctly. You fiddle with the hem of your dress, instinctually starting to feel defensive over Eddie, despite yourself.

“You know,” you say again, hoping he’ll understand before you have to say it. “Neither of us really talked. Not much opportunity for compliments.”

He scoffs, “That’s bullshit.”

You frown and swat him half-heartedly, “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not,” he raises his eyebrows and holds his hands up in a mock-surrender, “Just saying. Must’ve been real good for you to put up with all that.”

You laugh humourlessly, glancing away from him. “Yeah, you’d think so.”

His eyebrows furrow, trying to make sense of your crypticity. It only takes him a second, and his eyes flit back to yours. He cocks his head. “He wasn’t?” he asks lightly, trying to sound casual though the interest in his eyes isn’t exactly subtle.

You don’t want to offer anything more, admittedly embarrassed to elaborate. You figure he can read between the lines, but his gaze is unwavering, still curious. You hesitate before you continue, “I don’t know.” Part of you wants to protect Eddie’s intimate life for the sake of his privacy, while the other doesn’t really care after what he pulled tonight. Decidedly, you go with the better part. “It was never really about me.”

“What, you mean, he never, like… you never—” he breaks, his eyebrows raising as it dawns on him, “Oh.”

You’re grateful that he’s not judgmental about it, just surprised. Possibly even for your sake. Silence hangs between the two of you for a moment, not particularly uncomfortably, before he breaks it again. “Wow, that sucks.” All you do is tighten your lips and nod agreeingly. “You deserve, um,” he stops to weigh his words, “You should be with someone who knows what they’re doing.”

You’re not entirely sure what he means. He’s searching your face, as if he’s still trying to decide something, and his eyes dip to your mouth almost imperceptibly. He sets his hand onto your knee, gingerly, giving you the opportunity to pull away from him. You don’t. 

You let out a nervous exhale as he leans closer to you, the distance between you closing further and further. Once his mouth meets yours, it’s drastically different from the hungry, lustful make-outs you’d shared with Eddie. He presses softly, his lips moving cautiously, still proposing a question. He breaks the kiss, just for a moment, only leaving an inch or two between you. Another opportunity to let you pull away if you wanted to. Once he sees that you don’t, his hand moves to cup the side of your face, and he kisses you again with more fervour. Though his lips are still moving with care, gentleness, there is more intent behind it. He’s eager. 

You shift closer, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you rest your hand on his leg. His tongue brushes along your bottom lip, a silent request meant to coax it open. You answer it, slipping your tongue alongside his. You still yourself, suddenly unsure, and wonder if you’re moving too quickly. You’re not sure of how far he’s meaning to take it, or whether or not the kiss was supposed to mean anything at all. Your answer comes soon after when his hand trails carefully up your thigh, deliberate and certain. You lean into his touch, and he gently pulls you into his lap. Your knees settle on either side of his hips, and he places both hands on the small of your back. You sigh softly against his mouth, moving your hands to both sides of his neck and drawing him impossibly closer. 

The skirt of your dress gathers around your thighs when your front presses flush to his, your legs spread across his lap. His hands travel to your bare thighs before he stops himself at the hem of your dress. He lets out a careful exhale, pulling his lips from yours and searching your eyes. Your noses still touch, his breath fans hotly against your face, and you bring your hands to cup his cheeks.

“It’s okay,” you whisper reassuringly, answering the question he hasn’t yet asked aloud. 

“No, I…” he trails off, his eyes flicking to the ceiling. He swallows once, then utters quietly, “Upstairs?” 

The single word earns a fervent nod from you, and you lift yourself from his lap, offering your hand to him. He hastily takes it, moving in front of you to lead you out of the living room and up his staircase. Once you’ve made it to his room, he shuts the door behind him with a quiet ‘click’. He crosses the room with only a couple strides, his hands again holding your face and bringing you into another kiss before you can even make it to the bed. He walks you backwards and only breaks away from your lips once the back of your legs bump against it, then he lowers you gently on top of his rumpled bedspread. As he crawls over you, his lips attach to your neck and kisses tenderly along your jaw. 

He presses another gentle kiss to your lips, resting his forehead against yours to take a second to catch his breath. His hand rubs the fat of your thigh, hesitating when it traces the hem of your dress. You place your hand on his and guide it higher up your leg. 

Steve sits back for a brief moment to swiftly pull his shirt over his head, tossing it aside and causing it to pile in a heap on the floor. He leans back down for another kiss too quickly for you to properly see him, so you resort to instead moving your hands to run delicately along his stomach and up to his chest. He grasps your thigh and hikes it up to his hip, opening your body against him. His hips rut gently against yours just once, and you can tell that he’s making an effort to restrain himself. The growing tent in his jeans rubs roughly against you even after he stops moving. His hand wanders further up your thigh, skimming the bottom of your dress and pausing, almost waiting for you to stop him. Yet again, you don’t. Instead, you raise your arms to allow him to peel it over your head and discard it to the floor, just as his shirt was. 

Your face grows hot when you’re left bare underneath him. As he leans back onto his knees, you see his breath hitch in his throat when the lingerie that you initially put on for Eddie is revealed. His hands instinctively move to your hips, tracing his fingers along the lacy material that clings to your curves, his eyes still fixated on your body.

The longer he stares, the more self-conscious you feel, even if it only lasts for a second. “What?” you ask sheepishly, pulling your knees together in a half-hearted attempt to close yourself off. 

“Nothing,” he responds quickly, his eyes darting back to yours, “It’s just… Eddie’s an idiot.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips, your hands reaching out to pull him back in for a kiss—partly to stop him from staring much longer. Obviously, that’d been the reaction you’d hoped for, but you’d gotten so used to being stripped so hurriedly that it was surprising to be given more than a few seconds before rushing to the ‘good part’.

 His hands continue to admire your body when his eyes can’t, moving along your waist and eventually cupping your breast. His thumb brushes over the hardened peak of your nipple through the thin material, the sensation causing a shudder to run down your spine. Your back arches into him responsively, along with a quiet moan that’s muffled by his mouth. 

His lips travel down to your neck and press hotly below your ear, tenderly making their way down to your chest. His erection rubs evidently against your inner thigh. Despite himself, he doesn’t grind or urge against you. He still takes his time to plant gentle, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, lower, lower, lower…

Faint pants escape from your lips, your chest rising and falling heavily. His lips press between your breasts, trailing down to your belly button, to the soft plush of your inner thigh. You gasp softly, a chill running through your body when he presses a feathery kiss to your clothed clit. He continues to pepper light kisses on your thighs as one hand roams along the side of your body, stopping when it reaches the lace of your panties. His eyes flicker to yours, and you answer the question he means to ask with a keen nod of your head. 

A finger hooks the material, sliding them down your legs smoothly. Once they pass your thighs, knees, and ankles, he balls up your underwear and tosses it aside, then hooks his hands around your legs to pull you closer to him.

Your eyes flutter shut when he licks a long, slow stripe up your slit. Your cunt pulses desperately, the almost torturous pace he’s setting already making your head spin. He evasively pulls his tongue back into his mouth, and in its place, he slides his middle finger to glide along your folds. He slips it in tentatively, his eyes wide as he looks up at you for even a semblance of hesitance or doubt. All he’s met with is the soft gasp that’s drawn from your lips, a clear green light for him to continue. Pushing deeper into your soaking entrance, his finger curls and his lips attach to your clit, suckling. This earns another gasp, the pretty noises coming from your mouth growing more consistent once his finger starts to slip in and out of you. 

His tongue swirls around your sensitive clit, and he slides his index finger alongside his middle, his thick digits already starting to stretch you out as they move with mesmerizing care. You have to make an effort not to tug too hard on his hair when your fingers thread through it, your knees draping over his shoulders. With his tongue lapping and sucking on your puffy clit, fingers curling expertly to brush against your sweet spot with every pump, you realize how badly you’d been lying to yourself about ‘not minding’ the lack thereof with Eddie. Because, Jesus, does this feel fucking phenomenal.

His free hand moves to grasp your thigh, encouraging your legs to stay open once they try to close around his head. You start to burn up from the inside, being pushed closer to the edge despite his pace that refuses to quicken to match your rapid breaths. It’s a bit embarrassing to near your orgasm so quickly before he’s even fully undressed, but it’s excruciatingly hard to focus on anything except the waves of pleasure that wade through your body. 

“Steve,” you breathe, trying to grab his attention. You tighten your fingers in his hair, a weak attempt to break him away from you, but he persists. Your skin tingles with the sensation of his tongue working against you, and the lust that blooms in your lower tummy begs you to take this further. You squirm slightly underneath him as you mewl his name once again, “Steve...” 

All he does is him in mindless acknowledgement, the sound being muffled by your cunt. Once you get him to finally pull away and look at you, he is a visionary. His lips are pink and wet, parted slightly as he gazes up to look at you. His dark hair is tousled by your eager grasp and a strand falls loosely onto his forehead. You brush it from his eyes. You truly don’t know how much longer you can wait to have him, and you find yourself driven by this burning impatience. 

You urge him to move from between your thighs, pulling him to sit up. Tucking your lower lip between your teeth, you lay him down beside you and climb on top of him, settling your knees on either side of his hips. You reach behind your back and unclasp your bra, pulling it off and tossing it into the growing pile of clothes on the floor. This warrants a groan to erupt from deep in his throat, his eyes taking in your bare chest as if he’s immediately committed to memorizing it for future notice. 

“So pretty…” he whispers, and it’s unclear whether or not he meant for you to hear him. 

He attaches his mouth to yours again, wasting no time to slip his tongue past your lips and explore. There’s a newfound sense of urgency now, his movements still deliberate but considerably more driven. You shift backwards to give yourself enough room to start working on his belt buckle, your fingers fumbling as if you’ve never undone a belt in your life. Then he lifts his hips to help you tug his jeans down his thighs, and he’s left in nothing but his Calvin Klein briefs, the barrier between the two of you starting to dwindle. You can’t stand being naked where he remains clothed, even if it’s nothing but a pair of briefs, so your fingers move quickly to slide under his waistband. You wet your lips and tug delicately, just enough that his erection is revealed from beneath the fabric. 

You almost salivate when he springs free and weighs heavily against his stomach, a drop of precum gathered at the pink tip. You can’t help but reach to wrap your hand around him, your fingers barely meeting around his girth. His reaction is immediate; his eyebrows creasing, his lips parting with a sharp inhale, and his head tipping back against the headboard with a faint ‘thud’. You swipe the bead of arousal at the head with your thumb, before moving your hand slowly down his length. You’re only granted a stroke or two, base to tip, before he stops you by grabbing your wrist. “Easy,” he breathes, seemingly concentrated on restraining himself from ending the night right then and there. 

It’s unspoken, but there is a mutual understanding between the both of you that he needs to get inside you, like, yesterday. You lean forward, bracing yourself with one hand and arching your back somewhat purposefully, allowing you to hover above his cock. He shifts between your legs, his hand replacing yours at the base. You’re a bit embarrassed by the sheer amount of arousal that already coats his thick cockhead, though he seems to be in utter disagreement with you when he responds with a guttural groan. He aligns himself with your slick, carefully gliding the tip up and down without yet going in. 

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, despite the telling circumstances. 

“Yes, Steve,” you respond firmly, almost exasperated by his unwavering hesitancy. “I want you,” you emphasize, hoping the slight whine in your voice is enough to soothe his uncertainty. 

Luckily, those three words are all he needs to hear. Once he properly positions himself, all he says after that is a small ‘Tell me if you wanna stop’, and his hands move to steady your hips. Your eyebrows knot, and your chest swells with anticipation, even nervousness. His tender demeanor, the way he looks at you, it’s so overly different from how Eddie treated you. You wonder how you ended up here, with Steve, instead of in Eddie’s trailer as you always do. Coincidence, you suppose. If you had ended up there again, you certainly wouldn’t—

Holy fuck.

The thoughts are swept clean from your head once he guides you down onto him, your mind overcome instantly with the tantalizing stretch his cock brings upon entrance. Your nails go to grasp his shoulders, your jaw slackening with an audible gasp. Your eyes flutter open, your senses overwhelmed with the firm grip he holds on you, the grunt that falls from his lips, the air that punches from your throat with the first deep, experimental thrust. 

He holds your soft hips tightly, enough that it seems he’s keeping you from moving any more. “Jesus christ,” Steve mutters, his voice strained. “You’re so—fuck.”

You give yourself a moment to adjust, partly for his sake, especially because it seems if you move at all he’s going to fucking explode. Once you see him relax, you set a controlled pace, rolling your body against his. His eyes fixate on where you’re connected, and you watch his expression change; the light crease between his eyebrows, the lower lip that he sucks between his front teeth, his jaw that tenses visibly. It’s not long before he’s drawing small, breathy moans from you, his cockhead dragging mesmerizingly along your inner walls. 

Soon, you find yourselves in a rhythm, your bodies familiarizing themselves with each other and starting to work in tandem. Your hands slide up to the sides of his neck and you let your head fall back to look at the ceiling, your face starting to twist in pleasure. You can’t help the noises that drawl from your lips, his cock hitting the perfect spots inside you so easily. You don’t notice, but he can’t keep his eyes off of you. Sweat beading on his hairline, low groans coming from his throat as he watches your every move, the way your breasts bounce with every deep stride of your hips. He’s completely enthralled by you, your long nails clawing at his shoulders helplessly. You lean back down, your front pressed to his as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, trying uselessly to suppress the mewls that escape your mouth. You busy your lips by kissing along the sparse freckles on his sweat-slick skin.

“Oh, Steve,” you moan out. “Steve,” you repeat mindlessly, the word warbled by your breathlessness. There is a visceral reaction to your babbly moaning of his name, a shiver running through his body as he struggles to maintain a steady pace. 

Panting, he threads his fingers through the damp hair on the back of your head and gently pulls you forward to look at him, his eyes darting along your flush face. He brings you in for a kiss, your ability to reciprocate lasting only momentarily before you end up doing nothing more than gasping into his mouth. He curses under his breath, his eyes squeezing shut as his hand falls back down to your hip, helping to guide your unstable pace. 

With a tight grasp on you, he starts to thrust upward to meet your movement, pushing himself deeper inside you. The room fills with the sounds of skin-on-skin, and he starts to do most of the work to make up for your ever decreasing control. His thrusts don’t last long before they become erratic, his hips moving desperately and clearly starting to chase release. You cry out, your hands moving quickly to dig into his shoulders again. 

“Fuck,” he grunts in response, knitting his eyebrows together, “That feel good?” You’re unsure if the question was rhetorical, the moans that rip from your throat more than enough evidence for him, but you answer anyways. 

“Yesyesyes,” you murmur, “S’good.” You’re almost whining, the coil in your tummy starting to tighten rapidly. You turn into a hot, trembling mess on top of him, letting lewd noises wrack through your body. 

“Holy shit,” he says with a strangled groan, heavy breaths causing his chest to rise and fall against yours, his chest hair scraping between your breasts. “You’re driving me crazy,” he pants, his tip brushing deliciously against your sweet spot. 

You plead his name, pleasure blooming under your sensitive skin and spreading to the rest of your body. He surges forward to capture the noise with his mouth, the kiss only lasting a second before he breaks from your lips and presses his forehead to yours. You tense and arch almost completely against him, your thighs aquiver as you start to unravel around him, barely keeping the ability to hold yourself up on your knees.

He watches you fall apart intently, eyes blown-out with admiration. They then shut with concentration after he’s successfully ridden out your high, his face contorting blissfully as his hips stutter, a weak warning leaving his lips. 

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—”

He abruptly pulls out, only a few pumps of his hand necessary before he erupts onto his own stomach, painting his cock with shiny, white streaks that run down his length. There's a collective moment where you’re both trying to catch your breaths, struggling to find composure. Licking his lips, Steve brings his hand to brush away the baby hair that sticks to your forehead. Without realizing, he bats his eyelashes as he studies your face; your parted, puffy lips, the rosy tint to your flushed cheeks, the heave of your chest. Truthfully, you look a bit ruined. Not that he’s complaining. 

You turn over to lay flat beside him, your shoulders brushing, and stare blankly at the ceiling. You’re mildly terrified of what’s to come, how he’ll act after this. You wonder if you’ve just broken your whole dynamic by letting this happen. You trace the patterns of the small bumps on his popcorn ceiling with your eyes, and wonder whether or not he’ll treat you with the same sort of respect now that you’ve had sex with him. Going off of past experiences, you have reasonable doubt. 

You feel his eyes on you, and you turn your head to meet them. As if he’s read your mind, his lips curl slightly, reassuringly, and he slides an arm behind your head to wrap around your shoulder. You let him pull you to your side, leaning your head into his chest and resting your hand close by. His thumb draws slow circles on the tingling skin just below your shoulder, goosebumps rising in their wake. 

You catch a glance of the alarm clock across from his bed, the numbers 11:37 stare back at you in bright red. Admittedly, there’s no urgent reason for you to have to get home, but you don’t want to overstay your welcome. You mutter against his skin, not really making an attempt to move, “It’s almost midnight,” you say as more of an observation than an excuse, paying close attention to the reaction it garners.

In any situation with Eddie, this would’ve warranted a dismissive ‘why don’t you head out?’ or, on a good day, an ‘I'll drive you home.’ Amazingly, that’s not what you hear next. 

“You don’t have to go yet, do you?”

This takes you a bit off guard, the softness in his voice. Nonetheless, you answer honestly. “No, I guess not.”

“Good.”

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