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jo-harrington · 3 months

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Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - Prologue: Crossover

Summary: Everyone wishes that they could have an Eddie Munson in their lives. In a strange turn of events, Eddie wishes that he could meet you, his favorite character from a cult classic 80's TV series. And he's about to get his wish.

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: No-Upside-Down AU, Minor Angst, Fluff, Isekai, Mentions of FOI-compliant events

Note: Hello and welcome. I'm very excited about getting to expand on this idea; it's going to be a wild ride. Please note as you head in, and as we get into further chapters...this fic is going to be a little mind-fucky and a little bit self aware. This is my love letter to and my criticism of fanfiction, but at the end of the day, we're still gonna get to fall in love with Eddie and get some kind of Happily Ever After. This is my guarantee.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

May 2022. Such a weird time.

A time of uncertainty, a time of change. A time where the world seemed like it had been torn apart and was slowly being knit back together again.

But then a switch was flipped. Something happened. An old season ended and a new one started and with that start came something new. Someone new. And suddenly, countless people began to yearn for this new person in their lives.

A new, old person. Eddie Munson.

Joy ignited. Creativity sparked. Millions of words written and read. Edits made. Art drawn. Merch bought.

So many voices crying “why isn’t he real. WHY ISN'T HE REAL.”

If there was a god, he would let them have their own Eddie Munson. And if there was a Satan, he would let them sell their souls for Eddie Munson.

That’s just not how the universe works.

At least…not this one...

October 1985. A different kind of place and time. Still weird.

But Eddie Munson was real.

Sometimes to his detriment.

And for the most part, it was alright.

He played guitar, laughed with friends, mocked bullies to protect the people like him that were considered less than. He'd overcome hardships of one sort or another for most of his life, he could keep at it for a little while longer.

It would be his day week month year sometime soon.

Wouldn't it?

But until then, he would bide his time. Hopefully, this year, he'd pass all of his classes and finally graduate. Get to flip that douchebag Higgins off and snatch up a long-awaited, and well-deserved diploma.

What made it all easier, what softened the blow...was you.

It was silly. He knew that. Ronnie used to tease him on Wednesday nights when he needed to run home because he had a "standing date with his girl."

"Your girl doesn't even know you're alive," she'd scoff as he bustled her into the van. "She isn't real."

No...no you weren't.

Why couldn't you be real.

See, for the past...however long Eddie had spent his late nights half-assing homework, planning campaigns for Hellfire, working on music, and watching a television show. His guilty pleasure, a show about the ups and downs and upside downs of living in a sleepy suburban town: Port Geneva.

A show where you were his favorite character.

And crush.

You weren't the main character--in fact, you were just the main character's quirky best friend--but you were a fan favorite, as much as he could tell. You'd only been in the background during the first season, but before long you were front and just-left-of-center. And last year, you'd even gotten a two-episode arc in the season finale as you turned the small town on its head by announcing, a month or two before graduation, that you were quitting school to follow your dream and become an artist.

And man...Eddie had been there.

He'd actually missed those episodes airing when...well, when everything happened with his father and the heist...and the house...and Paige.

He'd missed a lot of episodes that season. Missed seeing you come into your own as he tried and failed to come into his.

Thankfully Wayne--and Eddie wasn't a believer but whatever deity in charge needed to bless his Uncle Wayne--had the foresight to tape those episodes for him.

Those tapes would be cherished 'til the day he died, because they had truly gotten him through those tough days after everything.

He wished he had seen them when they aired, maybe...maybe he would have made some different decisions if he had.

Of course, Eddie had already loved you before then.

Since he had first laid eyes on you, actually.

He was sure that if you were real, you would be the one to understand him more than any of his friends. See the real him. In return, he would understand you, be there for you too.

He already had been. He'd seen you cry countless times, he'd laughed with you, celebrated your successes and mourned your failures. He'd been there for you when you crushed on that dickhead Mark, and then had your heart broken by the careless jerk.

And somewhere deep down inside of him, when he was sitting in that jail cell after he wasted his phone call on Paige and he felt the weight of the world bear down on his shoulders…he wished that you were real so he could have called you instead.

If you were real, Eddie's life would just be a little nicer.

He knew…he just knew.

Of course, in the mean time while he wished with every fiber of his being that you would walk into his life, he brought you to life in other ways. During mid-season and summer hiatuses, he would write you into his DND campaigns. His friends knew, they always called him out for it.

"Are you seriously making her an NPC man?" Dougie would scoff and throw a D20 across the table at him.

"No, what are you talking about?" he defended and threw the die right back at his friend. "This is Spiria the Bold."

"Uh huh," Jeff rolled his eyes. "Sure."

By his imagination and his pen, you became a powerful warrior, a sharp-tongued trickster, a seductive mage. You became anything he wanted you to be--most often with a companion and lover that mirrored him--and everything he knew, deep down, that you were.

And then the unthinkable happened.

September ‘84. He and Wayne were in the checkout line at K-mart. Cart stacked with new clothes and school supplies and groceries. When suddenly...there you were. Right in front of him.

Alright, not you. Per se. But your face, smiling alongside Samantha and Patrick and Scotty and Bill on the cover of the TV Guide.

On Set with the Stars of Port Geneva.

Wayne was the one to snatch the magazine from the rack and add it to their bounty, a knowing smile on his lips as he shook his head.

He knew Eddie needed a little pick-me-up.

Or a big one.

How could he have known this would be anything but one...

Eddie scoured over the pages once they got back to the trailer. He was hoping there would be a big enough picture of you that he could cut out and tape to the otherwise barren walls of his new room. And there was; you were leaning against the back of your signature pastel blue Volkswagen Beetle, arms across your chest, head tilted to the side with the signature scrunched smile you gave when you were embarrassed.

He adored you.

Before he took scissors to the page, he read the interview with your actress.

He wasn't too keen on her, even though she had your face.

The illusion that Rosemary Glass was really you had been shattered the first time he'd heard her voice on a radio interview; instead of your perfect and familiar middle-American speech...Rosemary's voice was accented.

Not to mention, she sounded pretentious.

Gross.

Still, he could look past that annoyance if he got some kind of insight to what the next season would bring for you.

Hopefully not a new love interest. His heart could only take so much.

...gives us a tour of the Patterson and Son's set, one that is forever enshrined as the setting of Patrick and Samantha's first kiss. "Oh I'm actually not fond of that scene," Rosemary confesses. "Yeah it's sweet, and the way I bring Sam in so Pat could confess his feelings but the...when I fell down? It was not scripted. And I was honestly shocked they kept that in. But fans seem to think she's clumsy now because of it. That I'm clumsy. When I just tripped over a wire. It's quite awful, really." We ask Rosemary to tell us what she'll miss most, now that the show is coming to an end...

Eddie went rigid as he read those words.

The show...coming to an end?

"What?" he exclaimed into his empty room. "No, no, no."

He carefully examined the article again, then turned back to the beginning of the feature, only to feel his heart stop in his chest.

The title of the feature was like crit hit.

The final killing blow to his already weak constitution.

One Last Summer in Port Geneva - On the Set of the Final Season

The final season was a sham.

Eddie savored every episode, though. Of course he would!

He would enjoy every last moment with you that he could get before he lost you forever. But...he hated it.

It was lazy writing--seriously what were they thinking--and a quick, cheap means to tie up all the loose ends they'd set up over the years. He could tell they tried to deliver as fulfilling a finale for the extensive cast of characters as they could. Still, he was sure he could have done better.

Samantha and Patrick got engaged after graduation. That was lame.

Bonnie finally quit the bakery to open her own cafe the next town over. Didn't anyone remember that she wanted to quit because she wanted to be a vet instead? That was the whole point of her! She didn't want to follow in her family's footsteps and she was doing just that.

And you? You took a backseat.

Instead of leaving town right after graduation--something that you had followed through reluctantly to make your parents happy even though you had just resolved to put your own happiness first for once--you stayed to help Pat plan his proposal.

Your big adventure, your big push for your dreams, were on hold again. You played second fiddle over and over until the final episode.

Eddie was grateful to have you for a little longer, but...once again annoyed that you were looked over--over and over, just like he was--when you had already proved that you were worthy of top billing.

Worthy of being the main character for once.

Still, at the beginning of the series finale, you packed your bags, cashed in your savings account, and drove out of town. The future was yours, just like it was always meant to be.

And Eddie cried.

The whole time tears streamed down his face as you said your own watery goodbyes. He might have even waved as you stuck your hand out the windshield to say goodbye to your friends as your car idled at the last stop sign. You blew a kiss to everything you knew and loved then started on your way into the unknown, car getting smaller in the distance right before the commercial break.

He held his breath for the final scene: a walk through the house where it all started and then Sam smiled her signature hopeful smile as she shut the door on the audience.

The screen faded to black for one final time and he exhaled.

"It's over," he muttered in slight disbelief, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself.

Port Geneva was over, and you were gone for good.

It was a strange feeling.

Heartbreak, mourning, disappointment? He couldn't really know for sure. Empty was the best way to describe it; the lack of feeling. It was infuriating. Port Geneva was just a television show, he attempted to rationalize for the nth time since he started watching. You were just a character on a tv show; how could you mourn for someone and something that wasn't even real?

You hadn't actually died. He could still see glimpses of you if he wanted, whenever Rosemary Glass' next movie came out or something.

But that wasn't you.

You were gone, for all intents and purposes, and it was a blow that hit Eddie hard.

How could he go on without you?

Devastated, he got high that night after he stewed on his grief. He day-dreamed and monologued to an empty trailer about a universe where the two of you were together, where your travels took you to Hawkins, of all places, and you fell in love with him, just like you were supposed to.

If the walls could talk, they would have a fantastic tale to tell. One with heroes and misunderstandings and love at first sight. One with a horrible, unseen foe and many pitfalls and dangers that exceeded anyone's wildest imaginations. One with a magic door that led to the happily ever that was beyond well-deserved.

Grief did wonderful and terrible things, after all.

He woke up for school the next morning with cotton mouth and a vague outline of a story that did just that: brought you to Hawkins to fall in love with him and all of the other things that seemed like nonsense once he was in a more right-minded state.

The only problem was that it was all in his English notebook. And he didn't need anyone finding that.

"Fuck," he groaned and ripped the page out. He shoved it into his bedside drawer, where it would be doomed to a crumpled and forgotten future.

Or until he needed a condom.

Which, considering how everyone had doubled down on their disgust of him, wouldn't be any time soon.

But there you stayed.

Put away, like old obsessions and childish things, to be ignored and forgotten.

At least for a little while.

Eddie tried.

He did.

He kept you and Port Geneva out of sight and mind as much as humanly possible. It was the most effort he had really put to anything tangible in the past year.

The series ended at a weird time--during the middle of the season--and some investigative journalism show took over its time slot. Barbara Walters couldn't hold a candle to you, so it wasn't difficult for him to keep himself rooted in reality on the nights where he typically indulged in his silly fantasies.

The daydreams that he had were limited to lyrics for Corroded Coffin originals and ideas for Hellfire, and nights were spent alone in the darkness of the living room, with his reflection in the television set to keep him company as he tried his best to do homework that he'd already done before.

Before he realized, though, the school year was coming to a close and he was--big shocker--on the brink of failure. It wasn't until Higgins called him into his office, again, that you made your violent resurgence into his life.

There was a tentative truce between Higgins and Eddie for a while.

Civility was a strange thing for both of them. They actively avoided one another, save for a snide jab here and there, and Eddie tried to stay out of the Principal's Office as much as he could.

That is, until Higgins was forced to tell Eddie that he needed to repeat his repeat senior year.

"Don't act like I want this at all," he sneered at Eddie who tripped over a reaction. "I'd rather have you out of these halls for good. You drop out one year, then you re-enroll and you fail another. Try to make the most of it this time Munson; I don't want to have this talk again."

Eddie grumbled the whole drive back to the trailer, and he fell onto the sofa with his head in his hands once he got in.

"Which one of the fates wrote this stupid plot for me now, as if last year wasn't enough. You can't make this stuff up sometimes."

He laid there, wallowing in his misery for hours, days, years, until it got dark enough for headlights outside to be noticeable as they shined through the window. There was a glint of a reflection that caught his eye and had him turn his head.

"TV," he sighed and reached out as though he could touch the set and stacks of tapes neatly piled below. “The cause-of and solution-to all of life’s problems.”

He contemplated his life for a few more minutes.

He could make the most of the final few weeks of the school year. He could set himself up as a willing and reliable pupil for these last few assignments and tests, even though they wouldn't mean very much.

He could do all of these things so that when he walked into the halls of Hawkins High in the fall, on his absolute last first day of school--whatever deity or powers-that-be willing, because how "getting the hell outta dodge or he would die here" turned into "two extra years in that shit hole" he could only attribute to cosmic intervention--the faculty would already know he would try his best this time.

It would show them he was serious about graduating and that he would succeed despite all odds against him. Finally.

He could do this.

Or...

He could put in one of the tapes from the stack and scrounge for loose bills left over from his last few transactions and order a pizza. Pretend like he didn't exist for a little while.

And given the choice?

Eddie Munson chose the latter.

And he continued to choose the latter throughout the summer and even into the fall.

Nights that he didn't already have plans were spent in front of the television.

They were cherished nights with you.

Aside from his VHS recordings, he found a channel that showed reruns of Port Geneva after 10pm. Two hours of small town shenanigans that might very well be found just outside of his own door--if he only went and looked--with you just there, making your appearance every so often and catching his eye.

Homework was sometimes left halfway done on the coffee table until he needed to switch out a tape, or change the channel, and he spent more time filling his heart than enriching his mind, so to speak; he knew all of this school stuff already anyways.

Third times a charm and all right?

He talked to the screen more often than not, tried to warn you against one disappointment or another. Sometimes, if he was watching one of his tapes, he'd pause right on your face and just talk to you. Mundane things, usually, like Ronnie's last phone call home or some album that got released and a song he thought you might like.

Other nights, like tonight, he got vulnerable. Moments where life seemed a little extra trying, and he'd confess his feelings to your image.

Knelt on the floor in front of the coffee table, warm light bathed his face promising comfort as he spoke, and the din of static emitted from the television set, akin to an angel's voice...beyond understanding of humans.

He'd never been one for church, but this kind of confessional was sacred enough.

An eternal bond, just you and him.

He stopped his ramblings at that thought.

It was a strange moment of clarity.

Where had that come from?

"I..." Eddie looked down at himself, a foot away from the television set, remote clenched in his hand. Then he looked at you, soul-filled eyes just beyond the glass, not looking at him, only...through him, just past him. "What am I doing?"

What was he doing? He was...he wasn't a kid anymore who could hide in his dreams; well, honestly he was always going to do that, but this was different.

One minute he felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders as he told you about his troubles, and the next it was all back, heavier than ever, as he realized how silly this all was.

And here he was, wasting his life knelt at your altar.

It wasn't holy. It was pathetic.

You'd never answer; you weren't real.

"Why?" he asked aloud, jaw clenched. He gripped the remote tightly. "What did I do to not have...someone? Huh? What have I ever done to be alone? That I have to rely on a fucking television character to feel understood. And now I'm losing my mind talking to myself, talking to you, at midnight every night. Why am I here wishing that you're real? Why couldn't you just...be...real?"

If there was a God, he would let Eddie Munson have you. If there was a Satan, he would let Eddie sell his soul for you.

And that's how he knew neither of them existed: you didn't exist either.

Eddie hit the eject button on the VCR and was about to shut everything so he could go to bed, when there was a crash outside.

Crashes in Forest Hills weren't abnormal--someone backing into trash cans, losing traction on the icy roads in the winter, and the one time Mrs. Dawson kicked her husband out and threw all of his things out the window--but it was something he'd gotten used to since he came to live with Wayne.

This crash, however, started a ruckus.

Someone was yelling and that stupid dog across the way started barking.

Eddie was a lot of things...but a dramatic gossip was definitely high on the list.

What else was there to do in the Midwest?

He grabbed his cigarettes from the bowl full of junk on the coffee table and stepped outside, fully intent on plopping down on the old couch on the porch to smoke and watch the scene unfold.

A car crashed into the telephone pole; didn't look like there was much damage but it had run through some trashcans and might have clipped the drivers side mirror off of Mrs. Mayfield's car. The same Mrs. Mayfield who was on her own porch being held back by Max as she yelled.

"Are you kidding me? It's fucking midnight!"

"Mom! Stop!"

"The car, Max!"

Maybe there'd be a fight.

He barely got his cigarette lit when he noticed--really noticed--the offending car: a powder blue Volkswagen Beetle.

He blinked several times and then rubbed his eyes, thinking it might have just been a trick of the light or something.

Or it was a coincidence.

Or a dream.

Maybe he'd had a heart attack and died in front of his television or something?

Plenty of people drove Volkswagen Beetles. He was pretty sure he'd even heard Nancy Wheeler asking her parents for one as a graduation present.

But with the same license plate number?

The same one from the show, the same one that was in the TV Guide all those months ago. The same one on the makeshift poster he had taped on the wall next to his bed, that he'd run his fingers over to "kiss" you goodbye countless times, just like he did to his guitar.

"It's just dark," he tried to convince himself, "and I'm tired, and...and..."

It was a coincidence. It was a dream.

He repeated the mantra over and over in his head like a lifeline.

It was another fan like him who just used fantasy to make their life a little better. That's all he was trying to do too, right? He could understand; hell, if this was a new neighbor, maybe he'd be able to chat with them about the show. Wouldn't that be something?

Eddie was so distracted making up endless excuses for himself that he didn't notice Mrs. Mayfield as she threw her hands up in the air with an exaggerated "I'm calling the police. He didn't hear Max holler at her mom to calm down, or see the tail lights of the Beetle turn off either.

It wasn't until the driver's side door swung open and a sneaker-covered foot crunched against the gravel that he forgot all the excuses he was conjuring.

And his heart stopped as the driver got out of the car and stood in the faint glow of the streetlight.

Because that driver was you.

Next Chapter: Alternate Universe

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#Eddie munson x reader #stranger than (fan)fiction #stff #Eddie munson fic #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson angst #stranger things fic #stranger things Eddie munson #Eddie munson #stff updates

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stvharrngton · 1 year

Note

Hii kyrie!! Hope you are doing very well!!

So maybe this is a strange request and it's totally fine if you don't make it, so don't feel pressured love !

So I've been told thru all my life in various types of ways that I'm not pretty or pretty enough, so that has made me so self conscious and I'm just you know aware that I'm not pretty, so I would like to know how do you think steve would react to reader feeling that she is not pretty enough even when she is in a relationship with steve.

It can be smutty or not, what ever you decide is perfect to me love!!!

Ok, bye ily <3

hi my love <3 i'm sorry you feel like that i just know you are super pretty and our stevie would think so too 🥺 i went for smutty i hope that's okay!

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, oral (f receiving), p in v, heavy on praise and pet names <3

taglist: @dukesmebby @saturnband @sweetbabygirlsworld

The mirror sat atop your vanity, specks of dust decorating the glass. The reflection staring back at you was one you’d pondered over a thousand or more times, fingers prodding and pulling at the skin of the face in the mirror. Smoothing over the freckles and blemishes, rubbing at the circles below the eyes.

The reflection was yours, your face, your eyes, your hair and your nose. Your features that you’d come to think about more often than not. When Steve found you sat in front of the mirror, in nothing but your bra and a pair of soft cotton shorts his brow furrowed.

He called out for you when he walked into your quiet home, “Baby?” bottom lip jutting out when he was answered with silence. He reached your bedroom with a quiet knock on the door as he called out your name. Steve entered your room timidly when he was met with your figure in front of the mirror.

“Baby?” He asked quietly, “Everything okay? You never answered me.”

Steve came to stand behind where you sat, hands gentle and warm on your shoulders as he watched your face in the mirror. Your expression blank, like your mind was busy with a hurricane of thoughts. The words that spilled out from your mouth hurt Steve like a knife to the chest.

“Steve, am I pretty?”

The boy stood there dumbfounded, mouth hanging agape with his brows pinched together. He leant in next to you, so his chin was on your shoulder, his face next to yours staring back through the mirror. Steve pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, his lips sweet and gentle on your skin.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the whole world, baby, you know that.” Steve watched you carefully in the mirror as your eyes raked over your body, your lips downturned into something sad, “What’s this all about?”

“I don’t think I’m pretty enough-” you sighed, lips pursed together as you tried to ignore the feeling of Steve being so close to you, “not pretty enough for you.”

“What?!” Steve protested, turning his head to face your profile, “that’s crazy, sweetheart. You know I think you’re beautiful, hm?” Another kiss pressed to your cheek, “So hot and sexy, my sweet girl,” his voice was lower this time, lips encasing the shell of your ear, “how ‘bout I show my girl just how pretty she is, huh?”

Your skin erupted in goosebumps, heat rising up your neck as Steve’s words went right to your core. His lips travelled lower, teeth nipping at your earlobe as he pressed sweet kisses on your neck.

“You got the most beautiful eyes, baby,” Steve started, his hands moving to hold your waist, “so dreamy and your nose? Shit, you got the cutest nose I’ve ever seen.”

His lips followed the curve of your neck to your shoulder, a hand dancing up over your stomach, ghosting over the material of your bra and to your face. Steve let his thumb swipe over your plump bottom lip.

“And baby that smile of yours,” he groaned lowly when you sucked his thumb between your lips, “makes me weak at the knees and I wish I could set your laugh as the sound on my alarm clock.”

You hummed a laugh at his cheesy compliment, Steve sporting a wide eyed grin in return. “See? You’re beautiful,” Steve whispered, tone low and rasp as his fingers found the material of your bra again, working their way round to the clasp.

The contraption dropped to the floor with one fell swoop, freeing your breasts from their confines. Your breath hitched in your throat as the cool air hit your skin, nipples erect and Steve’s for the taking. His large hands cupped your tits, gently squeezing the flesh as his thumbs rolled over your nipples.

You mewled quietly, a soft little whimper tumbling past your lips as Steve took his bottom lip between his teeth, lips coming to your ear once more, “And these pretty tits are so perfect, can’t get enough.”

Teeth nipping at your neck, hands still caressing your tits, Steve ushered you up from the chair, pressing your body into the vanity desk. He pressed himself into your back, the soft material of his shirt scratching at your body, the bulge beneath his jeans felt against your ass.

Steve kept one hand pressed to your chest, the other wandered down your front, a quick squeeze to your hip as he slid his fingers between your ass and his front. Pushing your shorts to the side, Steve ghosted his fingers over the lace covering where you wanted him most, the small wet patch beneath his fingers making him take a sharp intake of his breath.

“And this pretty little pussy of yours,” Steve cooed, fingertip teasing at your entrance, “she’s just the sweetest thing, isn’t she?”

“Steve,” you whined, rolling your head back to rest on Steve’s shoulder. The feeling of his finger barely pushing into your hole driving you insane, your body white hot all over and he was just getting started.

“Come on, pretty girl,” Steve encouraged, “tell me what you want, use your words.”

Your eyes fluttered closed at the dirty words he spoke, feeling your arousal poole at your core. You pressed your ass out into Steve’s hands, desperately trying to fuck yourself on his finger. Steve chuckled cruelly at your actions, teasing as he removed his finger from your cunt.

“Steve, please,” you begged, “anything, baby, please just touch me.” You pleading never went a miss with Steve, a devilish smirk tugging at his lips as he dropped to his knees.

Fingers curling around the waistband of your shorts and panties, the material soon dropped to the floor around your feet. Steve peppered kisses up the backs of your thighs, his large hands grabbing the flesh of your ass, pulling and squeezing. Steve pulled you apart, revealing your pussy to him.

Wet and ready for whatever Steve was going to give you, he groaned at the sight of you. Slick covering your pussy, smeared across your plush thighs. He pressed a single kiss to your hole, lips pouting as he gripped your ass.

You moaned loudly at the gesture, eyes fluttering closed as Steve began to move his lips and tongue in tandem. You felt him groan from behind you, the vibrations rumbling through your pussy, your thighs clenching involuntarily. The sounds that filled the room were pornographic, dirty, filthy. Slurping and sucking, licking and kissing.

If there’s one thing that Steve Harrington knew how to do, it was eat pussy like his life depended on it.

Steve grabbed harshly at your ass, his palm coming down against your cheek, a yelp echoing off your bedroom walls. Steve groaned into your pussy at the noise, his cock straining beneath his jeans at the pretty little gasps and whimpers that were serving as music to his ears.

“You taste so sweet, baby.” Steve cooed, “so fuckin’ good.”

You fell to the desk below you, unable to keep yourself up any longer. The pleasure coursed through you like lightning, a sharp flick of Steve’s tongue over your clit sent you over the edge.

“Uh uh, baby,” Steve uttered, “keep those pretty eyes on that mirror.” One hand left your ass, the distinct sound of the metal of Steve’s belt clinking, the leather slapping against itself, “Want you to see how pretty you look when you cum.”

You wailed as Steve never stopped the movements of his tongue, your slick totally covering his mouth and chin you were sure. Eyes shooting open, gaze fixated on yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were hazy, your lips red and bitten. The sound of Steve’s denim being shoved down his thighs rang loud in your ears, the jostle of his wrist as he fisted his cock felt as he buried his face in your pussy.

The beginnings of your orgasm rocked your body, your cheeks heating up as your jaw went slack. The muscles in your stomach and thighs began to clench, your moans and whispers of Steve’s name turned into incoherent mumbles. A jumble of praise and ramblings of how good Steve was making you feel the only things you could muster.

“Stevie, ‘m gonna cum, fuck–” you cried, fingernails digging into the wood of the vanity, “please, don’t stop, baby.”

“That’s my girl, come on, baby, let it go,” Steve groaned, palm slapping against your ass as he sucked and licked at your clit, “keep those eyes open, honey.”

The coil in your stomach snapped, your body hot and cold all over, your eyes wide and pupils dilated as you stared at yourself in the mirror, watching yourself cum with your boyfriend’s face buried inside your cunt really was a sight to behold.

Your body writhed against the table as Steve continued to lick at you all soft and slow, drawing out your orgasm until you were crying at the overstimulation. His own fist had since slowed, pumping his cock at a fragile pace, teasing himself like you often would.

When he finally removed his mouth from your pussy, you exhaled a sigh of relief, body slumping against the wooden desk. The quietness of your bliss all but lasted momentarily as you heard Steve groan from behind you.

Fingers still wrapped around his stiff cock, eyes glued to your sticky pussy as your juices mixed with Steve’s saliva dribbled down your thighs. You stuck your ass out for him to see, as if inviting him to slip inside you.

“Steve–”

“Baby, fuck,” he groaned, eyes rolling back as he spoke, “I gotta– shit, I gotta see your face when I cum, please?”

You gnawed on your bottom lip as you spun around, Steve still on his knees, gaze fixated on your lower half. The boy shot up in a flash, hands immediately cupping your cheeks, lips crashing against yours. The kiss was hungry, fervent, Steve having worked himself up into a frenzy.

He picked you up from where you stood, your legs wrapping around your waist, arms slung over his broad shoulders. Steve laid you down on the soft sheets, hands reaching to rid himself of his shirt, shuffling out of his jeans and boxers.

His larger frame towered over you, soft kisses peppered all over your flushed face as his forehead came to rest against yours, his gaze flickered down between your bodies as he pushed himself inside you, cock in hand.

Steve moaned loudly, all high pitched and pretty. A gruff ‘fuck’ trembled past his pink lips, giving himself a minute to billow in the feel of your warm pussy around his cock. The stretch of Steve’s cock was one you had grown to love, the initial sting a sinful pain you craved.

It wasn’t long before he was bottoming out, hips moving hard, cock stroking deep inside your walls, “Fuck, baby, ‘m not gonna last long, shit–”

“Oh, Steve,” you breathed, skin dewy and hot, Steve’s cock stroking your special spot just right. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, your heels digging into his tailbone as he rolled his hips into yours over and over again, desperately chasing his own climax.

“My sweet girl,” the boy moaned, a throaty rasp, his hair wild, “you’re so pretty,” he babbled, “so fuckin’ gorgeous. My beautiful girl. So good f’me.”

Steve’s word vomit of praise was endearing, you were sure tears would be lining your lashes if he wasn’t fucking the breath out of your chest right now. He grappled your hands away from his shoulders, fingers interlocking as he held them at the side of your head, lips falling into place with yours as his hair began to fall out of place.

He was on the cusp, you knew that, could tell by the words he was moaning, the way he squeezed your hands so tight, how he kissed you as if to stop himself from wailing out your name.

He fucked his cock into you harder, deeper. You moaned his name into his mouth as he kissed you, a sweet gasp only spurring him on. You felt him twitch inside you, thighs clenching as he whined, “Oh, baby, oh fuck—,” gaze fixated on your fucked out features, “gonna cum, shit—“

As soon as Steve felt your walls clench around his length he was a goner. Hot cum spurting from his tip, pairing your walls as he groaned out your name. Curses fell from his tongue like a chant as his orgasm washed over him.

Chest heaving and breath heavy, Steve whined as he rode out his high. Eyes squeezed shut tightly as he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in the soft skin of your neck.

He hissed and grunted as soon as he pulled himself away from you, rolling over to lay next to you on the bed. Steve pulled you into his chest, thick ringlets of hair matted with sweat as he lay spent.

Steve let his lips rest on your temple, a gentle squeeze to your shoulder as he spoke,

“Prettiest girl in the world, baby, y’hear me?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #k.fic #request #apparently i am incapable of writing anything less than 1k words

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spitblaze · 6 months

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todays award for 'man what the fuck' goes to reddit for making me see pr0/-ship discourse in goddamn 2023. thought we were past that but i guess not

#spitblaze says things #i am once again reminding ppl that media and fan content are not created or consumed in a vacuum #you do not need to whitewash all 'taboo topics' from any work but maybe like. warn people up front. listen to minorities and csa victims #consider if yelling at strangers on the internet is actually helping anybody at all. esp the people you purport to be helping #realize that most people think grown-adult and literal-child pairings are gross for a reason and they arent just pearl clutching prudes #(im talking like 'this character is 10 and this one is 35' not 'this one is 17 and this one is 18'. yes ive seen it. yes i hate it)#idk. have a set of personal values rather than trying to align urself with some movement or group or whatever #also maybe give a little less leeway to ppl making purposefully tittilating csa content? even if it IS fiction???#at that point its not 'exploring dark subject matter' anymore its just jerkoff material. maybe you can afford to be a bit more discerning #also. learn what a maladaptive coping mechanism is please #thats it i just. dont want to think about this shit ever agaaaaaain

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thisonerandomgirl · 2 years

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It’s funny how some people go around bullying/ harassing Billy fans accusing them of “simping after the hot white bad boy” then proceed to turn a blind eye to all the 001/Henry stans in the fandom.

The hypocrisy is amazing.

#billy hargrove is so much more than that #no hate to any 001/Henry fans #harassing real people over fictional characters is wrong and unacceptable #billy hargrove #stranger things 4

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lectovers · 10 months

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https://archiveofourown.org/works/47009044

word count : 1,198

steve harrington x eddie munson

For Eddie, nonchalance is always a far safer option to blaming himself, or placing accountability on his father. That way, he doesn’t have to hate either of the two. He knows it’s futile, because no one will ever care as little as those who hurt him. His cool demeanor doesn’t change anything about what really happened, and it can’t protect him from the past that makes him want to eat every word he’s ever spoken.

Steve Harrington has always had a knack for reading people, and putting himself on the line for those he cares about. He can’t help but notice that Eddie talks a whole lot, but tends to avoid saying really anything at all. He thinks of “Hey, Steve?” and empty the words after. He feels the sort of things that make you save a boy when the world is caving in on itself.

A story about Eddie, and all the implications of his self imposed quiet

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visarcana · 11 months

Photo

I’m just here to post this thing I just saw on a meme site.

Somebody apparently just lives a modern AU of my fic y’all!

mind=blown

#truth is stranger than (fan)fiction #call me a realist writer #or not cause van made the fire in half an hour so I guess I made him too overpowered #visarcana #chapter 15 #trashcana

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pureimaginefic · 4 days

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Harry reels after receiving what seems to be his first B grade in his lifetime, after getting the chance for a makeup assignment he envisions his friends and family as characters in his latest story.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54433198

(formerly "The Hardest Part of Breaking Up & "Faithfully")

Nick Carter's son Neilson is left heartbroken after his longtime girlfriend decides to end their relationship, he is left devastated and Bradley steps in to cheer his best friend up but he ends up making a mistake that could change the trajectory of their friendship and leave Neilson even more broken than before.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53085727/chapters/134310964

#original characters #bsb fan fiction #jr. bsb series #new story #stranger than fiction #bringin' on the heartbreak

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ekvuus · 3 months

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rainbow icons acquired

#& the batch finished just as i finished 'stranger than fan fiction' <3 #ooc. horsin' around.#graphic design is my passion.

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mlpoutofcontext · 1 year

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Daring Do is trans (real)

#my first thought upon seeing the thumbnail for this episode #of course there's nothing ironic about this #as the name #A.K. Yearling #is a ponification of 'Spielberg'#director of the Indiana Jones movies #sometimes a lie is easier to take #Daring Do #Quibble Pants #wait his name is Pants?#he's not even wearing pants #Letter to Celestia in the tags #Stranger Than Fan Fiction #mlp #my little pony #mlp fim #my little pony friendship is magic #season 6 #Rainbow Dash

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jo-harrington · 2 months

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The Boy Is Mine (Jo's Edition)

Summary: A romantic night in at the trailer. And a first date.

Word Count: 1.7k

Themes: First Date, Fluff, First Kiss, Teasing, Banter, Geekery

Notes: My submission for @carolmunson's The Boy Is Mine Writing Excercise. This was a fun one, and I know the idea was for it not to be an AU...I guess technically it isn't (although I definitely thought of my STFF Eddie who...well...it's fanfiction *wink* especially since we're not gonna see their first date in the story). Thank you for putting together a fun game Carol.

Tagging a few friends who I think would have some great additions to this prompt: @eddiemunsonbignaturals @undead-supernova @storiesbyrhi

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

Pizza? Delivered.

Twinkies? Vanilla frosting. Not Banana.

Trailer? Tidied.

Sheets? Changed.

There was a knock at the door and Eddie took a breath and held it as he stared at his bed.

"You're not gonna end up in here," he muttered to himself.

Ok but maybe you would. He could be hopeful. Maybe a kiss would lead to something else.

"No idiot. It's just a study date."

There was another knock and he turned on his heel and rushed for the door.

He paused at the last second--glanced around, ran his hands over the front of his t-shirt, and put the most casual smile on his face--before he opened the door.

And then there you were.

A backpack slung over your shoulder, 6-pack of Dr. Pepper hanging from your fingers, looking...hot effortlessly gorgeous...or at least he thought so.

"Hey," you greeted. "Sorry if I'm late."

"No," he shook his head quickly and shifted to the side to let you pass into the trailer. "Right on time sweetheart. Hope you like pepperoni."

Of course you did. It was your favorite.

"It's my favorite."

Eddie clenched his fist in victory as he shut the door and then stood back and watched indulgently as you took in the wonders of the place he called home. He committed it all to memory; the way your eyes lingered on Wayne's collection of mugs and hats from over the years, or your nose scrunched up cutely at the sight of family pictures on a shelf--

Please god, don't see the picture of him missing his two front teeth.

--or the way it scrunched further, more in annoyance than fondness, and your eyebrow quirked at the stack of video tapes beside the television.

Shit.

"Uh," he cleared his throat and swooped in, arm hovering around your shoulders as he led you to the couch where the pizza and his history homework waited. His hand drifted to yours so he could grab the sodas. "Lemme put this in the fridge so it gets cold. I have Mountain Dew...or beer, if you want one."

"Mountain Dew's fine."

"As you wish," he bowed and you giggled. He cursed himself as he headed to the kitchen.

What a fucking nerd--

"So you read the Princess Bride?" you called out to him.

"Y-yes."

"It's one of my favorite books! A story within a story and all of that. And it can be critical of itself. It's perfect!"

Eddie's heart soared.

The two of you went back and forth for a few minutes discussing the merits of the book and the way it provided so much suspense and adventure and escapism; something it seemed, and Eddie wasn't surprised to find, you both had needed throughout your relatively-young lives.

Before long, he shuffled out of the kitchen with two cans and two solo cups to find you comfortably settled on the couch with your legs criss-crossed and a throw pillow settled in your lap. You looked right at home, at ease with him, and he had to say...he liked that sight quite a bit.

"I ran out of like, nice cups," he changed the subject so he wouldn't focus too much on how much he enjoyed the sight. "Hope this is okay."

"Ok, well what are the nice cups?" you narrowed your eyes at him playfully. "Because I see plenty of nice cups right in front of us, Mister."

You gestured at the shelves lined with mugs and Eddie couldn't help but roll his eyes at you.

"Those aren't nice cups Madam," he scoffed. "Those are family heirlooms. The nice cups are the Star Wars: Return of the Jedi glasses I got from Burger King. Obviously."

"Well excuse me," you straightened in your seat and rocked your shoulders back and forth haughtily. "The fine crystal."

"And don't you forget it."

"And here you are, presenting me with...plastic. Like a peasant."

"If you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem."

He held out the red solo cup filled with fluorescent green liquid and you snatched it from him with a quick flash of your tongue.

Then the two of you got right down to business: homework.

You pulled a small notebook from your backpack and then asked to see his notes from class so you could help him get a better idea of what was important for an upcoming quiz that he'd mentioned the day prior. He was ashamed to say he wasn't the best notetaker, but you pivoted easily as you flipped through a few pages and went from sparse notes about Civics and the US Constitution to long drawn out paragraphs about the Riders of Rohan and graphic descriptions of the Meduseld.

"Don't be like that," you scolded him. "That's not even true. What is this?"

"This?" He waved dismissively. "It's just...notes for Hellfire. Ahem...Hellfire Club...my Dungeons and Dragons club at school."

"Oh yeah?"

"Planning a one-shot for my buddy Jeff's birthday in a world where Theodred doesn't die and goes on to become...well...it's just nerd stuff."

Eddie sniffed and thought back to the many times that he'd been cut short trying to explain his ideas to others; even Ronnie got on his case when he got too into it.

How many times had she heard him get into an argument with himself over the benefits of Mithril vs. Adamantium?

"Excuse me," you looked at him expectantly, breaking through his thoughts. "Nerd stuff?"

"Yeah," he shrugged and let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Nerd stuff. We're supposed to be focusing on History."

"Ok, yes but..." you reached out and poked him in the the dimple in his cheek. "You didn't say in a 'we should just focus on history instead' way. You said it in a 'you don't want to hear about this' way."

"Well do you? Do you actually like that?""

"Did I not just tell you that Inigo Montoya is the real hero of Princess Bride and not Westley or Buttercup not five minutes ago?"

Eddie stared at you like a deer in the headlights.

Ok. You got him there.

But...but...God...old habits died hard.

How many times had people not given him the time of day when it came to silly little stories and make believe worlds? How many times had the people closest to him not even taken the time to listen?

He'd already been sold on the fact that you weren't just a dream; how could you be real and actually be his dream girl too?

God, it was too good to be true.

Eddie swallowed hard and centered himself back in reality. He was gonna have to salvage this moment before he made a real fool out of himself and asked you to marry him or something. That would be a little too strong for a first date...and a study date, at that.

He grumbled something under his breath.

"'Scuse me? What was that?" you leaned in closer to him.

"It was 10 minutes ago," he spoke up, staring at you matter-of-factly, a fiery challenge in his eyes to hide the fact that he was actively falling for you. "Actually."

You threw your head back in a laugh and slapped the back of your hand against his shoulder.

"You shithead," you cackled. "Ok fine. 10 minutes. Now. How about we actually study for 10 more minutes, and then you can tell me about this...Dungeons and Dragons while we eat ok?"

He happily agreed.

Towards the end of the night, pizza and sodas had been devoured, homework demolished, and Eddie actually felt like he had a shot at getting a decent grade on his next History quiz.

"Alright," he sighed and leaned against the back of the couch. "I think we're done here. A success if I do say so myself. I guess I'll keep you around."

"Keep me?" you quirked an eyebrow at him. "Uh huh, more like, will you please come back and help me study again?"

"Are..." Eddie scoffed. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"You volunteered!"

"I volunteered for one study date."

"What, so a second one is out of the question?" he asked as he leaned forward and edged into your space.

"Well," you began with an expression that oozed contemplation in an exaggerated fashion. God, you were almost as dramatic as he was.

You were perfect.

"Well, if you're asking me for a second date, Edward? Then the answer is yes."

He clapped his hands together and laughed.

"Haha, see I knew that you couldn't get enough of--"

"But," you stopped him, and he stared, open-mouthed with words half-falling from his lips. "If you're asking me to come back to study? Well, then the second session is gonna cost you."

And he fell for it for a second. Just a split second. He thought that yeah it made sense if he wanted your help, he was gonna have to give something in return.

But then he saw the sly little smile that you were fighting to keep off your lips, saw the adorable little scrunch in your nose that he'd memorized earlier in the night, and the way your fingers fiddled on the couch cushion, as you slowly inched closer to him.

And he understood.

Oh...

"Oh yeah?" He narrowed his eyes at you in faux-suspicion. "Alright...name your price."

"It's not gonna be cheap," you insisted.

"I can pay anything."

"You sure about that?"

"Oh," he leaned closer to you now, volume and timber getting lower the closer he got. "I'm absolutely sure sweetheart."

You bit your lip slyly.

"I think fair market price...is a kiss."

"Just one?" he teased, lips absolutely within smooching distance from yours now.

"Maybe two."

You bit your lip to keep your smile at bay and Eddie had to stop himself from kissing you right then and there.

"Two?! Well," he sighed. "You drive a hard bargain. And who am I to pass up such a once-in-a-lifetime deal?"

"Just a nerd," you whispered against his lips.

"Just a nerd," he repeated, and then slotted his lips right against yours, ending your perfect first date with the perfect first kiss.

Just like on TV.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #prompt game #the boy is mine #stff updates #stranger than (fan)fiction #carol <3

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aeyumicore · 3 months

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☾ .⭒˚ business trip ♡ zayne x afab reader

⋆.˚ ☾ pairing: zayne x afab!reader (very fem!reader)

☾ .⭒˚ genre: smut, pwp, pwf

⋆.˚ ☾ word count: 6.7k (good lord)

☾ .⭒˚ content warning: mdni, tiny reference/spoiler to lore, explicit sexual content, pure pure filth, dubcon if you squint really really really hard, size kink, unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral sex (f!receiving), lots of making out, finger fucking, tongue fucking, cum as lube, finger sucking, choking, slight inappropriate use of evol, slight use of y/n, dom!zayne

⋆.˚ ☾ video link: not necessary to watch in order to read and enjoy, but i highly recommending watching the memory for context and a visual for the fic! https://youtu.be/JAQ22yAhnUI?si=bfOLaJ-byJMyT9Vn

☾ .⭒˚ a/n: as promised she is here! this is based of the five-star card ‘business trip.’ a lot of the initial dialogue is from that card's story, with some small changes. this contains very tiny spoilers/references to some of the lore (honestly not really, if you’re reading this you’re probably addicted to the game enough to know the reference).

this is my very first finished fan fic/smut! i’m used to writing research papers and lab reports, so i am still learning to write fiction/dialogue! please be kind :) also fun fact i was writing this in first person but then decided to switch to second person so if there’s any stray grammar errors i apologize lol search and replace is so wonky

if you can’t tell i am absolutely feral for zayne and need to thirst for him with fellow zayne simps. my dumbass cannot write porn without a shit ton of plot/feelings. hope you enjoy!!

⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾

people who didn’t know zayne would assume that he was a cold person, and you couldn't really blame them. as a world renowned cardiac surgeon, and the chief cardiac surgeon of a massive metropolitan hospital, he had become an expert at control, especially that of his emotions. he let the world know only what he wanted them to know, and he was extremely selective about who he let truly know him.

having been zayne’s girlfriend for a few months now, you had the privilege of being on the receiving end of his rare affections. and while he was undeniably blunt and straightforward, you knew he was anything but cold. under the winter blizzard that was his exterior, zayne was warmer than the summer sun.

but despite being intimately familiar with zayne’s affections, you couldn’t help but be disappointed when he picked you up from the train station returning home from your ten day mission. after months of dating, you were no stranger to the cardiac surgeon’s distaste of pda and need for professionalism, but after ten days apart you couldn’t help but be disheartened by his nonchalance when picking you up.

so when he put on a random movie and sat on your couch, you couldn’t help but pout and prop your knees up to your chest on the seat cushion next to him.

“do you have a question for me, zayne?” you rested your head on your left hand that was leaning up on the sofa back. his face snapped to yours from the tv screen, eyes lighting up with amusement. they bore straight into your own, making you want to squirm in your seat. even without touching you, zayne was always able to make your blood heat and your skin singe.

“what do you mean?” his tone held the faintest trace of humor and you had a feeling he knew exactly what you meant but wanted to hear you say the words.

feeling emboldened by his teasing obliviousness, you deftly swung one of your legs over his lap, and effectively straddled him on the couch. his hands instinctively gravitated to gently rest on the plush of your hips. you squeaked in surprise at the feel of his ice cold hands against your exposed waist, your shirt having ridden up. you could feel the distinct outline of something you’d terribly missed on your time away, and it made you harshly bite your lip to suppress the sounds your body tried to force out of your mouth.

the corner of his lips raised at you, the faint ghost of a smirk gracing his face. he murmurs softly, his voice sending shivers straight down your spine while his fingers danced down with it, “how was your trip? was it okay?”

still sulking, you whined, “not at first. after all, i could always see you whenever i wanted to.” your hands softly ran down the smooth fabric of his suit vest, drifting over his expensive tie, “then slowly i got used to it.” you shifted in his lap, intentionally grinding gently, hoping to provoke any sort of reaction from him. you needed him to be as affected by you as you were by him.

“got used to being alone again? right?” besides his growing erection, he was as calm and collected as always. in your frustration at his nonchalance, you missed the little signs of zayne losing the tight grip he always had on his control. his grip tightening ever so slightly on your hips, the brief but sharp intake of his breath, his jaw slackening gently as he bit the inside of his cheek.

exasperated, you climbed off his lap and settled back into your seat beside him. with zayne, it could often be difficult to tell when he was teasing or genuinely oblivious. and your own frustrations were clouding your perception to any of the little indicators that he was anything but in complete control of the situation.

“sure, but it’s not…” you trailed off feeling embarrassed, eyes falling to your hands on your lap. maybe you were being too needy?

gripping your chin in his thumb and index finger, he lifted your head to meet his deep green eyes again, “indeed, it’ll become dull regardless.” the unmistakable sound of need in his voice as his piercing eyes locked yours in place was beginning to utterly derail your thoughts.

you cover his eyes with both your hands, unable to stand his intense stare, “you’ve been staring at me.”

“but i can’t see you like this,” the amusement in his voice is undeniable.

“shhh. that’s the point.”

gently, he pries your hands off his face without much resistance, “let me see you.” his eyes once again found yours, holding bits of amusement, adoration, and hunger. you averted your eyes and childishly stuck your tongue out at him.

“you wanted me to say something?” the teasing in his voice transparent as glass.

unable to contain yourself any longer, you whine, “why did you act so normally at the train station? i was disappointed.” craving his skin on yours, you reach your right hand out to gently brush your fingers over his lips. he wraps his much larger hand over yours and moves it to cup his cheek. turning his head ever so slightly, his lips ghost the inside of your palm with a delicate kiss.

when he finally speaks, his voice has dropped to an octave that sends waves of pure primal pleasure coursing straight down to your core, “what did you want me to do in front of all those people?”

biting back the shiver threatening to unleash through your body, you continue with your petulant ramblings, “we haven’t seen each other for a few days. didn’t you miss or worry about me?”

“the weather was nice there and you responded to all my text messages. so you must have been fine,” he gently plays with your hand, still enclosed in his. “now tell me, is there something you want to tell me?”

you could tell zayne knew exactly what you wanted to say and what you wanted him to say. but ever the tease, he wanted you to say it aloud.

“tell me what you want,” he’d always demand with his lengthy slender fingers stuffed deep inside you, thumb pressing harshly on your clit. forcing you to say the words.

“i…missed you,” you confess through hooded eyelids, only daring to peer up at him through your eyelashes. your own daydreams were causing a dampening puddle to form at the apex of your legs which you squeezed shut tightly, embarrassed at how eager you were for him.

in a flash, his hand released yours to snatch the remote off the coffee table and shut the movie off, turning to face you again. his sudden movement snapped you out of your filthy reminiscing, “why did you turn off the tv?”

forcefully, he cups the back of your neck, entangling his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer until his face is a mere inch from yours, eyes glancing fleetingly to your lips. you could feel his minty breath against your lips and it made you unleash the uncontrollable shiver you’d been suppressing, “are we really here for a movie?”

breathlessly and defiantly, you pushed him further, “isn’t that what you wanted?” your hands gripped his bicep, reveling in the taut bundle of muscles that you’d imagined far too many times on your trip, taking you so forcefully every night prior.

“i’ve changed my mind now. is that okay?” and with that zayne closes the short distance between the two of you, capturing your lips with his.

you couldn’t help but moan at the feel of his icy lips on yours after far too long, far too many lonely nights. he greedily swallowed it, hands moving to tangle deeper in your hair. zayne’s lips were always a pleasant blend of winter ice but also a home-like warmth, the feeling absolutely addicting. a feeling reserved just for you.

zayne pushed you down softly, until your back met the cushioned sofa. he parted your thighs and settled between them, hovering above you.

“such a brat. did you want me to take you like this in front of everyone at the station?” he murmured, hands leaving you to loosen his tie. the unbelievably erotic sight had your knees weakening, the dampness between your legs intensifying. they instinctively clenched at the feeling, which zayne noticed immediately, evident by his satisfied smirk.

“tell me how much you missed me,” he demanded softly and firmly as his hands found their way under your shirt, teasing the skin of your naval and dancing up just below the swell of your breasts. his cold touch pulled a needy whimper from you and your pelvis arched up seeking any kind of friction against his body. zaynes actions fried your brain, rendering it nearly impossible for you to process what he was asking of you.

suddenly his hands abandoned your chest and he raised his hips so your bodies no longer touched, to your dismay. the loss in friction had you whimpering pathetically for him. instead, his hand made its way to your mouth and his thumb pressed into the parting of your lips, “answer me.”

“wh-what? what did you ask?” you panted dumbly, tongue intentionally grazing his thumb and savoring the salty taste of his frosty skin. you could see his erection growing against the restraint of his slacks at the feel of your tongue eagerly tasting him.

using his free hand, he ghosted it against your jeans covered cunt, just barely catching on your clit. squeezing your eyes shut, you gasped and hoped he couldn’t feel how embarrassingly wet you already were for him, despite him only just having touched you. his touch was light and fleeting, just enough to leave you starving for more.

his thumb, still in your mouth, pressed down firmly on your tongue. this time, he asked more forcefully, “tell me how much you missed me baby.” his domineering attitude short circuited your brain and once again all you could do was moan and thrust into his hand. zayne, dissatisfied with your repeated lack of response, pinched your clit, roughly enough to snap you back into reality and leave you panting for more. the truth came tumbling out so fast you had no time to be ashamed at how desperate he’d made you.

“s’much, i missed you so much zaayne,” you slurred, unable to articulate your words through the lust, “thought ‘bout you ev’ry night.” you reached up to run your fingers through the dampening black bangs that rested against his eyes. “missed you s’much zayne. need you s’bad.”

his gorgeous green eyes darkened and he shut them, “fuck.”

satisfied with your begging, he bent down to capture your lips with his once more, pressing his erection against your heat, grinding torturously slowly. his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, demanding access to what was his. you happily granted him entrance, enjoying the feel of his tongue against yours. enjoying the taste of him so intimately close to you.

he pulled away, groaning, “do you want to know why i acted so normally when i saw you at the train station?” you whined at him pulling away, having thoroughly gotten over your previous brattiness and just wanting nothing more than him to utterly devour you. you reached your hand up to cup his cheek again, trying to guide his lips back to yours and shut him up. you continued to grind into his erection, rutting needily into his crotch, completely and utterly desperate for him. you were at the point of no return, and not even your own embarrassingly unabashed horniness could shame you into stopping.

instead, he affectionately leans into your hand and shuts his eyes, like a cat purring into a palm. the pure adoration mixed with the fiery sexual tension enveloping the air surrounding you was absolutely suffocating. and you were positively addicted.

he put his hand over yours, holding it lovingly against his cheek, “even in front of all those people, i knew once i saw you again–” he brought your joined palms to his lips and grazed a fleeting kiss against your skin, then released your hand.

continuing, “if i touched you again after all that time –” he bent down over you to gently graze his teeth against your racing pulse, suckling and nibbling carefully while his other hand cupped your sex again to which you eagerly ground into. his long slender fingers teased your slit, paying special attention to your aching clit.

he continued his ministrations on your pussy, his breathy rasps right next to your ear, “i knew i wouldn’t be able to stop.”

his words snapped the coil that had been building in your core from the moment your eyes landed at him at the train station. you whined as your thighs trembled to a halt against his fingers. the culmination of it all, missing him terribly for ten days, the feel of his perfect body pressed against yours, the incessant teasing, but especially his confession, led to your quick unraveling. covering your eyes in sheer embarrassment, you came against his hand, still completely dressed.

zayne peered down at his soaked hand, voice low, vaguely amused, and unbelievably turned on, “did you just cum, love?”

embarrassed, hands still covering your reddening face, you wailed, “y-yes..i’m sorry!”

“don’t hide from me y/n,” his fingers, covered in your slick, pried your hands away from your eyes. “did my little brat miss me that much? she’s so eager for me she came just from humping my hand huh?”

you nodded enthusiastically, despite the sheer embarrassment, determined to please the man before you, “missed you more than anything. needed you s’bad. haven’t felt you inside me in s’long.” he swore lowly under his breath, barely audible, his control slipping.

“i’m sorry for not behaving the way you expected at the train station, my love,” he rose away from you, undoing his loosened tie. “let me show you how much i missed you.” his words unleashed butterflies in your stomach as you watched him shed his clothing, layer by layer. zayne was truly something sculpted out of legends. as his long fingers expertly unbuttoned his white collared shirt you pressed your palm against his hard stomach and murmured, “wait let’s go to my bed.”

but he didn’t stop, instead arching his eyebrow at you, “did you think i was joking?”

your eyes snapped away from the contours of his abs leading to the dusting of his pubic hair, not at all able to follow what he was talking about. “s-sorry?”

he chuckled, finally shedding his expensive white shirt somewhere on your apartment floor. he crawled back to hover over you and deftly removed your bottoms and panties, then spreading your thighs apart and using his own leg to keep them propped open.

“we’ve already started, and i won’t be able to stop any time soon.”

you shivered at his words and hooked your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against his. the kiss was bruisingly passionate and messy, his tongue exploring all the places he longed for the past week and a half. with one hand he gripped your hair, and with the other he skillfully unhooked your bra and caressed your nipple with his fingertips. you whimpered into his mouth as he played with your body in ways only he knew would have you completely ruined. wanting to please him too, you reached your hand down to release his cock from its confines and grasp it in your hand. it stood completely rock hard against his naval, his prominent vein bulging and throbbing in your hand. because of zayne’s evol, he always ran very cold. his skin was often icy to the touch, but his manhood always burned your palms, blazing so deliciously hot.

you held it tight in your hand, jerking up and down gently but forcefully. teasing the underside of the head with your thumb, you briefly panicked at how he would fit inside you after so many days not being stretched to accommodate him. his manhood was like him in every way: intimidating, imposing, and glorious.

zayne pulled away from your lips, burying his face into the crook of your neck and biting into the soft skin there. the most erotic groans spilled out of his lips against you, but his hand gripped your fist halting your movements. through gritted teeth, he seethed, “stop.”

scared you’d hurt him, you instantly snatched your hand away. he noticed the guilt on your face and half-smiled reassuringly, “i was about to finish all over your pretty little stomach from just your hands. this is how much i’ve missed you.” the more he spoke, the more your next orgasm was building, your body aching for his with every filthy word he uttered.

his hands gripped the small of your back and lifted you slightly, giving him access to remove your top and unlatched bra. his eyes hungrily roamed all over your body until they settled on your eyes, “you are the most beautiful thing i will ever set eyes on, in all my lives.”

your head tilted, intrigued by his choice of words, “all your lives? have you discovered the secret of reincarnation, dr. zayne?.” zayne chuckled, but did not respond, instead kneeling completely naked and god-like before you and you couldn’t help but beg, “p-please zayne.”

he smirked, confident as ever, hands reaching down to ghost right above your pussy, hovering so close but not touching, “please what, baby? use your words, you can do that for me, right?'”

you bit your lip, trying to grind your crotch into his hand, whining when he shifted to dodge your advances.

“tell me what you want.”

unable to take the teasing any further, “p-please jus’ touch me, anything, please.”

“my girl is so damn needy.” finally he sets his fingers against your soaking slit, slipping his lengthy middle finger in. throwing your head back, you moaned arching your back off the couch, rutting into his digit.

“so desperate for me,” he practically purred, pumping his single finger in and out, “did you have to use your own fingers when you were away?”

“y-yess thought of you every time,” you moaned, “p-please, more.” you shrieked in pure ecstasy as you felt his lips find your sensitive nipple while simultaneously inserting his index finger.

zayne has always been hyper fixated on your breasts. the way the skin pebbled under his touch, the way the plush fat felt underneath the massage of his palms, but mostly the way you writhed under the lathering of his tongue. while his fingers forked in and out of you, his tongue swirled dizzying circles around the peak of your breasts. he nibbles, gentle but still enough to make you yelp. you can feel his smile against your skin as he suckles soothingly. he alternates between the two, never wanting to leave the other one neglected. your pleasure is the most important thing to him, a job he takes seriously. only when you’re a squirming whimpering mess does he feel satisfied.

pleased with his work, he detached from your chest, trailing down further. he leaves a path of kisses down your torso until he finds himself facing his main course. as he admires your throbbing cunt, his fingers still scissoring in and out of it, his tongue swipes against his lips. the hunger in his eyes is evident, as if pondering all the different ways he could devour you. finally, he graces your pussy with his attentive lips, wrapping around your clit and just barely grazing with his teeth.

zayne ate like a man positively starved, his tongue working magic on your body. he suckled diligently on the bud, making the filthiest slurping noises. your toes curled, resting on his broad hard shoulders, and your thighs clenched around his jaw. with his free hand, he sought your nipple out, pinching gently against the pebbled skin, ravishing absolutely every inch of your body. he shifted downwards until his tongue was inside you, his nose rubbing against your clit delivering such relentless mind-numbing pleasure. his tongue fucked you earnestly and through the blood pounding in your ears you could hear him moaning at the taste of your juices, dripping down his chin.

zayne inserts his fingers again, tongue going back to lap diligently at your clit, “you can take another one cant you?” he grunted against your most sensitive region, his breath a warm caress.

you sat up weakly on your elbows, absolutely winded from the blinding pleasure but determined to keep up with him, “i can! i can!”

“that’s my girl.” he inserts another finger, stuffing you completely full. moaning unabashedly, you latched onto his hair and fucked yourself onto his fingers. “you taste so fucking good. couldn’t stop thinking about you, spread out for just me, while you were gone.” his filthy words went straight to your core and you felt your next orgasm building at an alarming rate.

“zayne zayne zayne,” you chanted, completely fucked out, “please d-don’ stop.” his fingers quickened inside you, the lewd wet sounds of his fingers pounding against your skin filling the room. while keeping himself buried inside you, he shifted on top of you until his face was right in front of yours, eyes gazing into you deeply. zayne crashed his lips onto yours once more, forcing his tongue in, claiming every part of you. not that you objected at all.

his kiss was so unbelievably filled with need, showing you just how much he had missed you. his entire mouth tasted of you, lips so wet from a mix of your spend and his saliva. the passion of it all was enough to send you reeling towards your second orgasm. nails digging into his bicep, you tried to warn him that you were just about to come undone all over his hand. with his three fingers stuffed in you, he used his thumb to rub harsh circles on your clit, sending you reeling over the cliff of pleasure

“that’s it, juust like that baby. cum for me,” he cooed. you were a babbling slurring mess as you trembled on his fingers, releasing all over his hand. he continued to gently pump in and out of you, helping you ride out the waves of your orgasm. you fought to stay conscious as the overwhelming pleasure of two climaxes bled into the sting of overstimulation.

weakly swatting at his hand still inside your puffy cunt, “s’too much zayne. s’too sensitive.” he finally removed his hand, the sudden emptiness drawing a gasp from your lips. zayne brought his absolutely drenched fingers to his mouth, devouring your slick off of them.

“absolutely perfect,” he groaned, removing them and gripping the underside of your thighs. in one swift motion he pulled hard and had you pushed up against his own body, your rear end elevated to brush right up against his hard body, his unbelievably erect cock.

tapping his member against your sopping cunt he gave you a lopsided smile, “you still with me love?”

you sat up, unable to take your eyes off of where zayne’s body would connect with yours. following your eyes, he takes his manhood in his hand and teases it up and down, “i expect an answer when i speak to you y/n.”

your mind was mush and your body was still staggering from the sheer amount of pleasure zayne had just given you, but you knew you needed more. you needed him and you needed him inside you.

peering into his eyes from underneath your eyelashes, you mewled, “z-zaayne. i need you. i can’t wait any more”

he swore under his breath, his voice a deep sensual rasp, “so damn eager for me. don’t worry, you will have me, many many times tonight.” you shivered at his words, a hard and fast promise, as he lined up his cock with your entrance.

“two of ten,” he muttered under his breath, teasing his head against your clit, causing your body to tremble uncontrollably as he smeared your combined arousals all over your cunt, better than any medical grade lube. zayne always had so much pre cum from edging himself, always putting your pleasure above anything else, before himself.

“ten what?”

a heart stopping cocky smirk graced his beautiful pale face, “you’ve been gone for ten days. i fully intend to make up for every single day tonight.” the full weight of what he was implying clicked and your eyes widened.

“th-there’s no way!”

“isn’t this what you wanted? for me to show you how much i missed you?” he gave your pussy one last stern tap with his length, evoking a squeal from your lips as you squeezed your eyes tightly shut in anticipation.

“i told you once i started i wouldn’t be able to stop.” and without waiting for you to protest further, zayne softly breached into your warm and waiting hole. you moaned in surprise at the massive stretch. the only reason he could enter you at all was because he had thoroughly prepped you with the two previous orgasms. the pain ebbed pleasure was undeniable as zayne stretched your body to the max. when you looked to see where his body was joined with yours, you gaped. he’d only managed to get his tip in.

zayne fell forward slightly, gripping the underside of your thighs with a bruising intensity. his jaw was locked and he panted out, “please love, relax. relax for me. you’re squeezing me so fucking tight.”

“i’m tryin’, jus’ so big,” you whined, hands finding purchase in his soft hair. you took a deep breath, trying to loosen up, staring into his smoldering eyes while he pushed further into your guts.

“that’s it, such a good little slut for me. always so obedient,” he cooed, slowly but surely seating himself fully in your cunt. after ten days without him inside, it felt like losing your virginity all over again. but every single word he muttered went straight to the wet mess in between your joined bodies, helping to overcome the resistance.

the initial pace he set was torturously slow and passionate, his eyes only leaving yours when he threw his head back to groan deeply, as if unable to contain himself while he was inside you. any inklings of pain quickly dissolved into pure pleasure as his thick length burrowed deep inside. you watched zayne bask in the unstoppable stream of sounds that escaped your mouth, his body always taking yours in the most delicious ways. any embarrassment you previously felt went out the window as you made the most lewd and filthy cries for him.

hooking your legs around his waist, you felt him brush against your cervix with his tip and realized even fully buried inside you, zayne’s length was not completely burrowed in your pussy. the sheer size of him made you clench around his thrusts, throbbing in ecstasy as he ravished your body.

“so damn tight,” he groaned, the pace and force of his thrusts increasing, “gonna have to stretch you back out tonight, all night.” his thumb rubbed figure eights around your clit while you held onto your breasts for support as they bounced wildly from the growing intensity of his movements. the sight seemed to please him as he grunted and reached one of his hands to release your thigh and take a breast into his own hand, teasing the nipple between his finger tips.

somehow even in your utterly fucked out state you were able able to moan out, “s’deep s’deep sooo good. please don’t stop. missed this s’much.”

the hand on your breast ventured upwards to gently close around your throat, with just enough pressure to leave you gasping in bliss, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. his fingers pressed into your pulse, “taking me so well. this pussy was made for me, huh?”

a stray tear of pure pleasure slipped from your eyes. zayne released your neck and swipes his thumb across your cheek, wiping away the fallen tear, “answer me y/n. who does this pussy belong to?”

“b-belongs t’you zayne,” you slurred, “allll yours, always.”

pleased, zayne folds your thighs into your chest, until your knees are nearly touching your breasts. planting one foot on the seat of the couch, he begins thrusting with an entirely new vigor. the new angle allows him even deeper, cock brushing against all your deepest, favorite places. drool dribbled from the side of your mouth as you cried out repeatedly in pleasure. his body was so satisfyingly heavy, imposing, and large against yours, a stark reminder of the sheer size difference between you.

he shoved his hand between your two bodies to rest on your stomach, pressing down, “can you feel how deep i am love? can you feel me here?”

frankly, you could feel him in your damn throat, “y-yes zayne, feel it s’deep. makin’ me feel so goood. please don’t stop.”

“don’t worry, don’t plan on ever stopping.” his promises drove you ever so close to your climax. you moaned, back arching off the couch so sharply that you were almost levitating. zayne took this opportunity to wrap his two large hands around your waist, hoisting you off the couch leaving you squealing as he picked you up like a rag doll, seating you back on his lap, a mixture of your arousals moistening your thighs. his cock sat tall against your stomach and you longed to be stuffed again.

“look at the mess you made,” he murmured, eyes trailing to the space you sat completely exposed on him. with one palm gripping your ass, he slid his other between you to collect your collective slick on his fingers and shove it gently back into you. you yelped but took this opportunity to lift yourself onto your knees and take his cock into your hands. zayne watched you with amused eyes allowing you to take control, if only for a brief moment, before regaining it. a creature of habit, zayne loved control. in the hospital, the operating room, and especially in the bedroom. or well the living room.

you impaled yourself on his length once more, a gasping and groaning mess every inch of the way. he kneaded the plush of your ass adoringly, trying to soothe the pain from the stretch. in this position, zayne reached the deepest inside you, literally rearranging your guts. using your fleeting strength, you began bouncing up and down on him, his strong hands on your rear guiding you along, but letting you do the work. the corner of his lips were slightly quirked up as he watched you struggle to keep up any semblance of rhythm or pace.

“does my needy girl need my assistance?”

determined to wipe the smug smirk off his unfairly handsome face, you shook your head vehemently and only rode him more vigorously. but as his cock continued to spear in and out of you, the overwhelming pleasure in your gut and the burning in your thighs took hold and your knees gave out. you slumped your head breathlessly against his hard chest, as he chuckled and planted a kiss against the top of your head.

“don’t worry sweetheart, i’ve got you. let me take care of you.” with the help of his strong hands, he bounced you on his lap. his large muscular thighs flexed underneath you as your eyes rolled back. hours upon hours of surgeries honed zayne’s endurance and he bobbed you up and down like you weighed nothing at all. sitting on his lap like this, your abdomen was pushed right against his, your clit rubbing along his pelvis and your nipples dragged along his chest with each sinful thrust.

“eyes on me,” he commanded, his grip on your ass tightening enough to leave marks. in your fucked out state you force your eyes to focus on his, as his cock continues to deliver you unimaginable pleasure. with his eyes locked on yours, zayne lets out a deep breathy moan and murmurs, “i missed you so much y/n.”

your heart swells, your stomach clenches and you knew you loved this man. the butterflies in your stomach must have manifested in your pussy clenching around zayne’s shaft, hard. he hisses, but before he can speak you take his face in both your hands and press your mouth to his, swallowing his moans.

the feel of his tongue claiming every inch of your mouth pushes you towards your third orgasm. your lips separate, a string of drool connecting them still, as zayne hammers into you. you drape your arms over his shoulders, clinging on while he pounds into your abused hole. your clit continues to brush against his slick soaked pubic hair and has you seeing actual stars.

he bent down to capture your nipple with his mouth, absolutely devouring it. squealing, you arched into his mouth as your fingers clawed deep welts into his back while he ravished your breasts. he continued to bounce you on his lap, pace never faltering.

“m’close,” you warn over the erotic wet ‘pap pap pap’ sounds between you, “g’nna cum soon.”

“yeah? cum on me baby. need to feel you all over my cock,” his thrusts continue to hit your sweet spot and you feel as if you’re about to explode. at his command, you barrelled through your orgasm, digging your nails into his toned back. the pleasure was immeasurable as it coursed through every centimeter of your body. your head felt dizzy, toes curled, fingers clenched, nipples hardened further against him, and every nerve in your body sang for him. you wailed as he helped you ride out your orgasm, prolonging it as long as possible, still chasing his own pleasure.

“that’s it love. make a mess all over me,” the over stimulation was starting to kick in again as zayne’s thighs and hands continued to rock you on his cock.

“p-perfect, you’re so fucking perfect. do you know how many times i fucked my fist, thinking of this, while you were gone?” zayne was babbling now, and his cock was twitching persistently inside you. you could tell he was going to cum soon too. you held on for dear life as you willed yourself to withstand the overstimulation, wanting zayne to find release with you. it slowly ebbed into an addicting painful pleasure, making you uncontrollably squeeze your aching cunt around his throbbing cock.

“f-fuck squeezing the soul out of me. i’m gonna cum,” he groaned into the crook of your neck.

“cum for me zayne i wan’ it so so bad you n-need it please. need your cum so bad,” you whined, squeezing your eyes shut feeling another orgasm approaching so so unbelievably fast.

just like he had before, he gripped your chin with one of his hands, “look at me. i need to see you when i cum.” you forced your eyes open and watched as he stared at you with such intense lust, need, and love.

“where do you want me?” he grunted, his thrusts stumbling and you could tell he was finally at the precipice of his own orgasm.

“i-inside please cum inside me zaayne, i need you s’bad. need t’feel it deep,” you sobbed, your cunt tightening around him as you were about cum again.

“you want me to fill you up baby? stuff you full of my cum? what if i get you pregnant?” you clenched in excitement at the vague warning of his words. without fail, zayne noticed.

“my girl likes that idea huh? want me to breed this pretty little cunt? put my baby in you?” he was practically rabid now, the force of his bouncing rattling your brain, his words turning your body into putty in his hands. tears of overwhelming pleasure filled your eyes at his filthy promises and you could only peer at him through your wet eyelashes and nod eagerly, with your tongue almost lolling out of your mouth.

zayne cursed under his breath at the look you were giving him. he knew he could never deny you, not that he’d wanted to, especially not when you looked at him like that. he would spend his entire life, every one of his lives, loving you, taking care of you, protecting you, pleasuring you, if you’d allow him.

as he watched the drool dribble down your chin, he thrust one last time, the brute force of it dragging the orgasm out of you while he spurted his release deep inside your womb. you were screaming, crying as the intensity of your last three orgasms made your body even more reactive to his cum painting your walls white. the culmination of it all had you squirting all over your joined laps.

zayne watched in awe as you made an utter mess on his lap, his grip on your hips tightened and an icy frost formed on the top of your soft skin, under his palms. the alarming cold only served to increase the ecstasy of your climax. he didn’t seem to notice as the beautiful snowflake etched frost danced up your waist. yet you felt anything but cold as his hands held you against him.

the aftershocks of your final orgasm caused your pussy to continue to throb around him, milking anything he had left. zayne was a moaning and panting mess when he finally noticed that he was losing control of his evol, the glimmering crystals weaving up higher up your sides.

“shit, i’m sorry love,” he swore, pulling his hands away. you whimpered, not caring in the slightest, just wanting his touch back as you slumped against his hard chest, panting for air, body completely and thoroughly ruined. he took deep breaths to regain control of his evol, watching the iridescent flakes on your waist melt away as quickly as they’d come. as they faded completely, you shivered against him, cunt still quivering around him, draining every last drop of his seed into you. zayne wrapped his strong arms around you, cradling you gently, making sure his evol was properly contained before relaxing into your delicate body.

you must have drifted off briefly because the next thing you knew zayne was placing you gently on your plush bed sheets, the sweat and slick cleaned off your skin. despite the brutal pounding your pussy had taken, you could hardly feel any soreness. no doubt thanks to zayne’s tendencies to care for you like a little injured duckling, even outside of the hospital.

“you’re the best primary care provider, dr. zayne,” you murmured happily, nuzzling into his strong forearm, as he set you down on the bed. he chuckled, sounding not the least bit tired, sitting down on the empty space beside you.

“at home, you take care of me. at the hospital, you take care of me. how’d i get so luck to have a doctor like you?,” you rambled, utterly content. he continued to laugh, leaning over so he could stroke slow soothing circles on your naked stomach.

“i will always take care of you,” his gleaming green eyes beam at you, while the rest of his face remains calm, collected. and then he slowly smirks, “especially in the bedroom.”

you blush furiously, your thighs clenching together again, his eyes never leaving yours. the circles he rubs into your skin inch slowly up, up, up until they’re caressing your breasts, again.

“zaayne, there’s no way,” you whine, your thighs trembling at the sight of heat returning to his eyes. but despite your protests your core quivers in anticipation and you can't bring yourself to swat his hands away. he slowly crawls on your bed, into, in his opinion, his rightful place between your legs.

“we’re only 40% of the way done love, and as a surgeon i must always complete what i start,” he murmurs mischievously, hands gripping your knees, prying apart gently, slowly.

“y-you can’t be serious!”

“please? i missed you, y/n.”

feeling how your body reacted so eagerly to those three words, the words you wanted to hear him say so desperately at the train station, you knew you were in for a very long night.

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