#three bees writing
Text
Clinomania
❤ A Valentine's Day Special! ❤
Summary || [Steve Harrington X Female Reader SMUT] Your devoted boyfriend gets creative waking you up on Valentine's day morning.
Your Boyfriend Steve | 2.5k words | NO BETA/ SELF-EDITED, Swearing, Valentine’s Day Theme, Prompt: “Day One + Steve Harrington + Chocolate,” Established Relationship, Glasses!Steve, Food Play (Hershey’s Kisses Chocolate), Morning Sex, Body Worship, Foot Massage, Breast Humping, Oral Sex (male receiving), Anal Fingering (male receiving), Aftercare.
More Valentines! | Just Keery Fics | Main Masterlist
Your friends laughed at you– laughed!– when you bought a new mattress.
"Don't you sleep at Steve's house most nights?," Jonathan inquired.
"No, she passes out at her desk because she’s a workaholic," Robin teased.
"You're wasting money on a bed when you should be saving up for an apartment," Nancy chastised.
"What you’re really wasting is a perfectly good mattress," said Eddie, but he stopped grumbling the second you told him he could have your old one.
"I think you just keep doing you, girl," Argyle added from over the phone and then proceeded to describe how he was holding both of his thumbs up.
But you picked one from a top rated brand and jumped on the bed until the stiff springs softened. Tonight, you fall into your clean sheets and pillows and comforter in silky sleep clothes after a nice shower and you sleep like a happy little rock.
Early in the pre-dawn morning, some muffled sounds pull your head up from the warm recess of the sleep pool. Your eyes flutter open to find someone sneaking quietly into your bedroom. You would recognize the silhouette of that luscious hair anywhere and grunt because you're not fully awake.
You see Steve turn his head towards you in surprise. He shushes you gently and whispers, "sorry. Go back to sleep, sweetheart."
You expected him to join you in bed but are disappointed to see his form retreating after a kiss on the forehead. It almost feels like a dream as sleep pulls you back under and the next thing you know is sweet dreams fueled by the smell of coconut and papaya.
You dream of laying on a beach with white sands and turquoise waves. Kids play at the edge of the water, the boombox by your towel plays Blue Oyster Cult softly, and the gentle breeze blows a stray beach ball into your hands. Well, it’s actually a basketball. And a tall, lean man in bright red swim trunks crouches by your side with a flirtatious smile, brushing his pretty brown locks off his forehead and holding out his hand.
“Sorry about that,” dreamy beach boy Steve said as you shook his hand, “gee, you’re awfully gorgeous, aren’t you? How’s about I help you with that sunscreen, doll?”
You manage to undo the strings of your bikini top before quickly realizing that you must be dreaming. And as always, the dream slips away into memory and you open your eyes and return to your quaint, quiet bedroom which has become lightly sun filled.
A handsome face appears above you with his wire frame glasses sliding down to the end of his aquiline nose. “Good morning, valentine.”
“Hey Baywatch,” you mumble sleepily.
“What,” he chuckles and adjusts his glasses. "Sleep well?"
You moan. "So good, baby. Maybe… maybe too good…"
"How's that?" You can't see him anymore now that he's slipped from your view and you can't turn your head.
"I'm too comfortable, Steve," you almost sound like you're whining. "I can't get up. I can't move."
Steve comes back into view. "Need a doctor?"
You try to command yourself to shake your head but nothing happens. Growing slightly concerned, Steve drops a hand on your hip and his thumb absentmindedly circles your skin. It feels good too, not enough to free you from the bed's clutches.
"Think… you just need to help me get my blood flowing," you finally said, and watched his gentle brown eyes turn hungry.
"I can do that."
Steve sets what sounds like a ceramic mug on your nightstand and picks something else up, then shuffles to the end of the bed before mounting it. You feel his knee bump your foot and realize you must have forgotten to use your blankets last night.
"I was going to save this for after dinner tonight," you hear Steve start to say, "but I guess we'll be doing your presents backwards today."
"What is it?"
You hear a bottle open and close, then the sound of his big hands rubbing against each other moistly. "Massage oil. Get you nice and warmed up, sweetheart."
Steve starts in at your feet, the oil warmed by his hands and easing the friction of movement. Your eyes roll back into your head at the firm pressure of his thumb making circular motions into your arch. And your boyfriend takes his time with you, not overworking nor neglecting certain muscles– just the goldilocks of massaging. He works up to your mid calf before setting your foot down to the side and switching legs.
The silk fabric of your pants is unfortunately getting stained as he pushes it up your leg, but you can't bring yourself to mind at all as you feel him part your legs and scoot closer and closer to your core. Your blood is circulating at optimal capacity and you've never been so relaxed and yet so worked up before.
Steve's head comes into view and he looks down at you with a fond smile, stripping your pants off completely and beginning work with his hands on the meat of your thigh. You whimper involuntarily and it only makes his smile widen.
"Hi baby," he teases you. "How are we feeling?"
This time, you moan appreciatively. "So good, Steve. Need you…"
He raises an inquisitive eyebrow. "Need me to what, sweetheart?"
Of course he is going to make you say it. Despite being close enough to your core to know how wet you were, able to see your nipples peaked under your shirt and the sweat on your neck. The back of his hand is centimeters from brushing your mound and yet he still wants you to say it.
Stubbornly, you flatten your mouth and turn your head aside, pretending to fall back to sleep. He chuckles at your obstinance and drops a kiss on the exposed part of your neck before climbing off the bed entirely. In a panic, you whip your head around to find him and whine pathetically.
"Where are you going?!"
"Nowhere," he laughs, "I'm gonna wash my hands and grab something, calm down!"
Feeling more awake, you manage to shuffle your legs into a more comfortable position and slide your arms in to start unbuttoning your shirt. Steve comes back with a box of chocolates. He takes a few into his big hand and sets the box on your nightstand where you realize there are also a few candles that hadn't been there before with black wicks and curling smoke. Steve unraps the foil from each of the chocolates and offers one to you, which you gladly open your mouth for and intentionally lick his fingers as you take it. It isn't long before he gets back in bed, but this time he straddles your hips. You glance at the comfy lounge pants on his hips and the bulge resting on your pelvis.
“What’s that for?” You’re not too excited about food in your new bed but Steve shushes you and asks you to trust him, which you do. Then he pushes open your shirt and admires your bare chest.
"Oh baby, for me?," he asks as if your naked breasts are a gift (and to him, they are). "You shouldn't have… but boy am I'm glad you did."
His silly mood dials back as he begins to strategically place the little chocolates on your belly, making a trail between the valley of your breasts, mounting two next to your nipples, and placing one pointed top down in your naval. You roll your eyes but let him play, not quite getting the joke until he leans down and takes the first one, replacing it with his wet lips.
"A kiss for a kiss," he says as he leans back with a goofy smile and chews. He takes another, inching up slowly.
"You're going to get sick from eating all that chocolate," you say lazily.
"They're minis," he shrugs and upon collection of the next Hersey's kiss, he leaves a sticky wet spot with his tongue. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I won’t leave you hanging.”
Steve takes a chocolate from your boob and after making sure that it’s evenly melted in his mouth, he licks a stripe over your budding nipple, painting over it. The shock of hot and cold as the chocolate quickly cools has you shivering, and he repeats this action on the other side, then spends a good few minutes sucking it back up and cleaning them.
The slick is beginning to pool inside your underwear, now having nowhere to go. And when you wiggle your hips, Steve’s stiff cock bumps the lowest part of your belly and leaves a sticky spot where pre-cum has soaked through his clothes.
“Steve, Steve,” you whine and wiggle needily beneath him. “Please, baby, please.”
You are moments away from full on crying, incoherent with your blooming desire but trying not to hurry him into anything. You suspect that Steve is just as down bad as you are, though he has patience galore when it comes to worshiping your body, much to your elation and sometimes dismay.
And for once, or maybe because he can’t wait anymore either, Steve sits up and tugs his shirt over his head, the collar of his shirt accidentally pick up some of the chocolate staining his chin. The hem brushes his happy trail, revealing his freckled skin and hairy chest like a present being unwrapped. His glasses almost fall off, but he rights them once his left hand is free and tosses the shirt to the end of the bed. He’s panting now, same as you, his right hand gliding over his stomach to the waistband of his jeans and undoing his belt.
Your mouth salivates as Steve pushes his jeans aside and the only barrier left between him and the world is Calvin Klein. Your boyfriend has always been good to you, and you can always ask him for anything you want. Impatience overwhelms you and you stop him just as his thumb catches on the waist band of his underwear.
You crook a finger at him, then place your hands on his butt and pull, beckoning him to sit higher on your body. Away from your needy sex. He looks confused but he follows your direction, asking what you are doing until his voice trails off and he watches you smear melted chocolate from one breast to the other and lick the remains off your hands.
The way he whispers your name makes you feel powerful. You take up his heavy cock in your hands and stroke him slowly, bringing him to full hardness and coating his shaft in chocolate.
It's a mess in the making but you are too drunk on lust to stop.
"Come here," you coax him to scoot just an inch closer, then settle his cock between your breasts and squeeze, forming a channel around his member and staring up at him.
Steve could just about faint. He braces himself on his thighs and pulls his hips back and thrusts, feeling his cock slide through sticky chocolate and gathering sweat. On the second test thrust, you stick your tongue out and catch the tip which coats the appendage in pre-cum.
"F-fuck," Steve gasps.
Was fucking your tits the filthiest thing you two have ever done with each other? The chocolate does bring it to a close second, but no. It’s never something Steve has asked for, or mentioned being interested in, yet still some instinct inside of you drove you to it and made you feel like this was the action that would satisfy your desire to make him feel good. Pleasing you pleases him, which pleases you, and on and on in a delicate dance of kissing and rutting and caressing that makes you feel boneless and loved.
Steve whimpers and pets his hair back only for it to flop back into his eyes. The strands are becoming damp and sticking to his forehead. You know he needs more, he always makes those sounds when he needs more to finish. So you walk your fingers around his hip and squeeze his ass, parting his cheeks as his hips stutter and his thrusts become not faster but stronger, rougher. It takes no brain cells for him to take up the task of sandwiching your boobs back over his cock for more friction– but not until after he dribbles spit on your skin to lube it up.
Steve nods his head before you can even ask permission– he wants it– so you go ahead and slide one finger into his hole, slow and careful so as not to cause him discomfort. And Steve moans, the loudest he’s been all morning.
“Baby…” Sweat drops from the point of his nose and he keens. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come…”
He almost topples over when you suddenly shove him further up your chest, pulling his cock past your breasts until you can lift your head up and wrap your lips around his tip and suck. His whole body jerks unexpectedly, eyes rolling back into his head and his glasses falling off completely without him noticing. You set them aside as far as you can and push him forward again, trying to use your body to tell him what you wanted from him since your mouth was full.
“Okay, okay…” Steve mutters as he repositions himself and begins thrusting shallowly into your mouth.
He growls upon feeling you moan with praise, the vibrations pressing right against the sensitive underside of his tip thanks to your playful tongue. You take him further, further, his cock inches deeper until it’s about halfway and then he jerks back just in time for the first rope to paint your chin.
Shaking and high, Steve watches through his lashes as you greedily suck and swallow his load, his whole cock pink from use beneath the mixture of chocolate and spit. You release his cock with a pop and lick the come off of your chin as best you can, then smile like a cat with creme. Adrenaline drains from his body and he feels like you did when you woke up, relaxed and tingling all over his body. He rolls to the side almost tumbling onto the floor as your bed is unexpectedly narrow compared to his and he waddles off to provide clean-up.
He does yelp when your finger pops out of his ass, not realizing you hadn’t removed it until he stepped away from the bed and his noise makes you laugh so hard your sides hurt.
“Jesus Christ, sweetheart,” he says as he returns to wipe you down with a warm, clean washcloth. “Valentine’s Day is supposed to be about you, not blowing me!”
“Valentine’s Day is about us,” you correct him mirthfully. “And I’ll do whatever I want with your body if you let me.”
He chuckles and sighs, slipping into your bed and curling his arm under your shoulders until you are strewn out on his chest. His heart beats steady in his chest and is already lulling you back into the clutches of sleep. But Steve has one more thing to say before you drift off.
“Just give me a few minutes of rest, okay? And then I’m going to spend the rest of the night until dinner– when I am taking you to Enzo’s by the way– making you feel so fucking good, you will never be able to masturbate again.”
"Promises, promises," you purr with contentment.
Other Valentines | Main Masterlist
Thank you for reading! Leave a comment, drop an anonymous message, or reblog if you wanna show me and my work some love! More sexy holiday fics to come leading up to the Fourteenth!
#three bees writing#steve harrington smut#valentines day fic#bee's archive of fiction#black reader insert#joe keery character fiction#steve harrington x female reader
111 notes
·
View notes
Text
Eddie Munson | Stranger Things 4 || Face Sitting/ Fucking // Dry Humping
Eddie Lives AU/ Roommates; 2.8k words; NO BETA/ SELF-EDITED, Roommates (living with their older relatives), Swearing, Cramped Quarters, Sexual Frustration, Threat of Destruction of Property (poor Sweetheart the electric guitar, she’s done nothing wrong), Dry Humping, Magic Wand Vibrator, Slight Choking, Squirting
Previous | Masterlist | Next: Kurt Kunkle Love Bites/ Marks
You didn't hate him– you just hated everything around him. Living with Eddie Munson and his uncle Wayne meant less room in the trailer, more messes that you alone were expected to clean, and zero privacy. Your aunt originally invited Wayne and "his boy" as she called him to stay with you and her, but when an eviction notice came unexpectedly, the lot of you had been forced to return to Forest Hill for housing– right back into the infamous scene of Chrissy Cunningham's death.
Some changes had been made– A loft was built on top of the trailer with enough room for one queen sized bed that your aunt and his uncle traded. Meanwhile, the actual trailer's only bedroom had been turned into two via a "privacy curtain" and downsized a lot of things to fit all of you in. Your room held a twin sized mattress and a chest of drawers you used as a desk, and Eddie’s room mirrored yours plus a stack of amps for his electric guitar.
That damn guitar. If he's not jamming in his friends' garage or running D&D on Fridays with those high schoolers, he's strumming that fucking instrument and blasting (quietly if you ask) his music all night. At least he knocks on the privacy wall before he bothers you with something mundane when he can't entertain himself.
Somewhere along the way, after months with no way to relieve your urges, you snapped. Eddie nearly jumps out of his skin when you throw the folding curtain aside and stomp into his space.
"What'd I do? What'd I do?!"
You grab his ankles and drag him down the bed and he gets lost in the blanket he was curled up in. You catch his guitar before it hits the dirty floor and hold it over your head much to Eddie's dismay. His eyes become saucers and his face gets stern.
"Don't," he hisses with one hand out as if to placate a rabid animal.
Unperturbed, you sneer. "It's Thursday. Don't you have somewhere else to be?!"
Eddie shrugs. "We– I… one of my buddies was forced to go camping. We- we can't play without the drums."
You grit your teeth, unsatisfied. "So do something else. Somewhere else!"
"I-I-I," Eddie sputters as he watches your nails dig into his precious baby. "Like what? Where do you want me to go?!"
"Outside, Eddie!," you scream.
"Why?!"
…you uh, don't know how to answer that. In fact, you were banking on simply scaring him so bad he left without question, yet here you are. He wasn't being loud today. He wasn't making a mess or bothering you for once. He was just there and he could hear everything, just like you could hear everything he does in his room– especially the private stuff.
"Just– " you sigh and use your head to support the guitar you were holding as your arms grow tired. "An hour. I just want an hour alone. Is that too much to ask?"
Eddie looks at you sympathetically. "... I wish I could, but uh… I actually can't just go outside and loiter like I used to..."
Oh fuck, you forgot. Munson was legally cleared of murdering the cheerleader (you wouldn't have believed it anyway not since you met him, the scared little lay about) but that didn't mean their weren't people still hunting him. No other suspects were arrested for it, the cause of her death was still unknown.
You tossed Eddie his guitar back and worried your lip trying to come up with an alternative. Maybe you could take your vibrator, a towel, and his van to an empty parking lot. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him but, you would be way more comfortable doing it at home. You can’t just ignore it anymore, it’s consuming your every thought and ruining your panties…
“Is there… something else I can help you with?,” he asks warily.
You know what he means– you know! But you can’t stop from shifting your feet and rubbing your thighs together just to provide some relief. You try glaring meanly at him but it feels a lot more sexually charged than it should be and unfortunately, Eddie looks like he’s catching on to your dilemma.
“Oh,” he murmurs. “You want alone time to… oh!”
You roll your eyes and turn to go back to your room but he stops you. "Hey wait! I could still… I could still help you with that too. If– if you want…"
You look over Eddie. Before you busted down the wall between your rooms, he had been relaxing. His hair was tied up, wearing the gray shirt you were secretly obsessed with because it was Unnaturally Soft, and barefoot. You reach down to rip the blanket off him, revealing for a split second that he was only wearing boxers before he shielded his modesty with the base of his guitar.
Well, he did look delectable like this. And you were desperate at this point. "There are going to be rules."
Eddie furrows his brow as you disappear into your room, only to return a moment later wielding an object he had only seen in pornos and sex shops. "Rule one," you say as you point the vibrator at him menacingly, "never ever ever speak about this to anyone."
"Done, our secret." Eddie's eyes follow you as you saunter towards him and swiftly straddle his hips. “Anything else?”
You reach down and accidentally flash him your cleavage before jamming his guitar in his arms. “Rule two, don’t look at me and keep playing.”
“Ok– UGM.” You sit on his hips and feel the hump of his ‘boy bits’ against your sex– both lightly clothed in cotton. “Any requests?”
“Know anything with a semi-sensual bass line?,” your voice comes in a sigh as you rut against him, feeling yourself grow hotter as you finally feel the beginnings of your game coming to fruition. The first phrases he strums are intensely familiar. “Oh, House of the Rising Sun? You’ve been snooping through my things.”
Eddie shrugs and turns his eyes to the ceiling as per the second rule. “Hardly snooping if you leave your cassettes in my van.”
He grunts and closes his eyes, his fingers skipping over a note as you rut again and set your vibrator to the lowest setting. You can feel his thighs stiffen under your ass as you pull the top of your dress down and bare your hardening nipples to tease them.
Your eyes drift closed as you feel everything. “Fuck Eddie.”
The man hums in response and you both hissed as the vibrator made contact with your clit and the base of his hardening cock. In an instant, two clammy hands grasp your hips and forced you up.
"Stop," Eddie begged, "hang on, I need…"
You catch yourself from falling on him with a hand on his pillow and pause. Eddie is panting as he reaches into his boxers (not minding a few wet spots) to settle his cock against his belly and hooking the waistband under his balls. Obediently, his hands return to his guitar and he nods at you.
"Ok I'm good, you can–"
You snapped his underwear back into its rightful place halfway up his cock and Eddie almost screamed, his eyes pricking with tears and veins bulging in his neck. He glares at you with more malice than you thought he was capable of and he forces you to sit down on his hips before returning his eyes to the ceiling.
"Nice tits," he growls.
"I know," you chuckle and resume your minstrations.
Eddie's guitar picks up where he left off. You continue rocking your hips and return the bulky vibrating wand to stimulate your clit, even brushing the sensitive frenelum of Eddie’s cockhead with the wand and loving the way he bucks up into you. The coil in your gut tightens harshly and you feel something unexpected but exciting building with it.
You hum long and low in your throat. "Keep playing, Eddie."
"'M trying," he groans, "getting close."
Your wand dies unexpectedly and you quickly toss it aside with a huff. "Just keep playing. Fuck, Eddie…"
He loves the way his name sounds, and when you say it like that… he misses the E string again and holds his guitar up to his neck. The last thing he wants is to come all over his precious Sweetheart, even if it annoys you. He tries strumming the melody from up high. It sounds a little out of tune and he catches you smiling (your eyes are closed, or you'd scold him for breaking your rules).
"Thought you said you learned Master of Puppets in 30 days," you tease, "but now you can't play four bars on repeat. S'matter, pussy too good?"
Eddie grips his guitar roughly. "Can feel how wet you are…" and see your pretty chest swaying. He shuts his eyes tight. Your threats are rarely empty and he needs to come, he'll die if he doesn't.
"Oh shhh–"
Eddie hits himself in the face trying to thrust Sweetheart out of the splash zone. He growls as streams of pearly white fluid pools in his belly button and paint streaks across his shirt, even tiny droplets splash under his chin. Your movements milk every drop out of him, and as soon as he cracks an eye open, he sees you triumphantly admiring your handy work.
"Fuck," Eddie hisses as his cock throbs one more time and everything starts to feel overly sensitive. "Too much, too much."
Reluctantly, you stop rocking and stare down your nose at Eddie. He knows what you're thinking already and tries to dissuade you with a firm hand on your hips.
"Just need to catch my breath," he pleads. "Why don't you take this off before it gets ruined?"
His fingers gently tug on the sun dress pooling around your hips. In truth, he wants to be able to see more of you, and you oblige his suggestion with seductive grace. Now it's just you and two layers of cotton underwear sitting on his softening cock and empty sack. He sets his guitar just off the bed and helps you adjust your placement for better friction.
"Pick that up," you command. "I didn't say you could stop playing."
Eddie sighs, "yes ma'am."
He folds his shirt in half to cover his mess and settles Sweetheart back in her place against his ribcage. He glances back at you again as he finally notices the vibrating wand has disappeared.
"Look the other way." Your eyebrows are drawn together and you unconsciously cover your breasts with your hands until he obeys.
It's weird to him that you choose to be shy at this moment. After all, you were downright prideful a moment ago, and he is the only one covered in cum right about now.
"Any other requests? A different song perhaps?"
"Sure…"
Eddie tunes a string that sounded off and begins to play something a little less somber but with a heavy bassline. Sunshine of Your Love fills the space between you and he can hear you smiling through your praise.
"I like this one," you chuckle and begin to rock your hips again, slower this time to build back the momentum you lost.
He's less sensitive now and simply enjoying the feel of you, wanting to get you off like he said he would. Still, it's fun to hear you 1) laugh and 2) like his taste in music. If he could get hard again, he totally would.
It's not long before he feels your warm hands come down on his shoulders for support and it takes every ounce of his control not to look at you. The gentle sighs that fall from your lips come in time with the rising speed of your thrusts against his flaccid junk. Eddie counts to four in his head, bends his knees, and bucks up in perfect time to help you get off.
The prettiest filthiest sound pours out of you halfway between a sob and a sigh. You bite your tongue hard to stop yourself from saying his name again and scold yourself internally for even thinking about it. This isn't about Eddie, this is about getting off. But no matter how hard you try, you just can't seem to get there. Not without the wand and not without thinking of Eddie.
"Fuck..." The curse is dripping with frustration and Eddie's heart pangs with sympathy.
Eddie's had enough. You can't finish like this but you are too stubborn to help even yourself. It's time to take over.
You gasp as you suddenly feel Eddie's fingers wrap around your throat. There's a dark look in his eye as he sits up on his elbow, guitar set aside again. It fills you with heat that pools in your gut.
"Come on, princess," Eddie says, his voice low and gravelly, "what's the matter? You want to come, don't you?"
"Ah! Eddie!" One second you're dry humping your roommate, and the next you find yourself on your back with said roommate hovering over you. His rough hand squeezes your wind pipe for a second causing stars to dance in your eyes and his hips press down, pushing your thighs wider to accommodate his width. You tell yourself you shouldn’t feel so aroused by this lazy nerd musician.
“If you want me to stop, say the magic word. But before you do–” he tilts his head back and licks his lips. “Tell me this doesn’t feel good.”
Eddie thrusts his hips once and you know you’re done for. He’s grown hard again that much is sure, and the way his cock is sandwiched between your soaked folds to brush your clit with his head is enough to make you cry. His thrusts are short and needy, but not because he is desperate– it’s because you are. You know if you asked him to fuck you like a toy, he would happily oblige and you have to bite your tongue to save you from yourself.
“What’s that, baby?” Eddie smugly addresses the punchy whines escaping from you. “I can’t hear so good, did you say you want me to stop?”
“No please!” You cry and dig your nails hard into the hand on your throat to keep him there. “Please don’t stop, Ed, please…”
Satisfaction curls cat-like on his lips. “That’s what I thought you said, sweetheart. Now, who’s making you feel good, baby?”
Oh this asshole, you think, I’m going to kill him someday. “...you are.”
“And what’s my name, princess?”
You roll your eyes internally. “Eddie.”
“Uh-HUH. Eddie who?”
“Eddie fucking Munson!” The devil rewards you with a warm fingered pinch on your exposed bud.
“That’s right! Good girl.” His rhythm is so perfect, you can count it– 120 beats per minute. “And who’s touch are you gonna beg for?”
“Eddie Munson…” Your voice becomes airy and high. Every stroke building like water behind a dam and his toying with your chest sparks like magic.
“And who’s the lucky son of a bitch who’s gonna make you come?”
He speeds up, anticipating your peak, the wall you keep hitting but couldn’t pull yourself over. Instead of answering him with his name, you scream under him and arch your back as stars explode outwards behind your eyes and deep in the pit of your stomach. Fire washes over your skin, then ice as the sweat on your body cools, and a comforting warmth returns as you feel Eddie’s chest covering yours and his head fall into the crook between your neck and your shoulder.
It takes you a few minutes to feel your toes. You cradle the back of his neck craving his contact and forget you ever hated Eddie the freak Munson.
“Thank you,” you whisper sheepishly. “Maybe this is an insane thing to ask but… do you know how fast you were going when you made me come?”
“195,” he mutters matter-of-factly.
The ticklish feeling causes you to laugh. “On a school night? Shame on you.”
The way he nuzzles into your neck fills you with something sweet, until he speaks again with that trademark smugness. “And I made you do a lot more than come, baby.”
You become very aware of the fact that your underwear and the bed beneath you is drenched, like genuinely soaked, swimming in liquid. Even the bottom half of Eddie’s shirt which slipped down while he was over you was wet as well as sticky where his cum was barely dried. You roll your eyes and promise to never let yourself do this again.
Your vow lasts all of two hours.
Previous | Masterlist | Next: Kurt Kunkle Love Bite/ Marks
Using my roommate like a sex jukebox? Its more likely than you think!
#three bees writing#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x female reader#kinktober 2022 challenge#tppkinktober2022#black reader insert#joseph quinn character fiction
197 notes
·
View notes
Text
Family cuddle
#rote#realm of the elderlings#my art#rote fanart#fitzloved#fitzchivalry farseer#the fool#beloved#bee farseer#assassin's fate#assassin's fate spoilers#fitz and the fool trilogy#fitz and the fool spoilers#rote spoilers#art#illustration#Today it's been exactly one year since I posted my very first rote fanart! So this is something of a redo of that same idea.#That fanart was the first thing I drew after years of not even touching a pen and honestly I was a nervous wreck when I posted it.#But as it turned out. the people in this fandom are incredibly nice and welcoming. so thank you all for always giving me the motivation#to keep practicing and drawing/painting these amazing characters <3#(and sorry for writing a sappy novel in my tags lol)#anyway i will forever be thinking about AUs where these three get to be an actual family. they deserve it
457 notes
·
View notes
Note
can i request three somehow forced into a fake dating situation
Three stares directly into Martyn’s eyes. They are blue and of an average size. It feels as though maybe this should be against the rules, but according to the book it had read, this was… normal. A normal thing to do on a date. Look deeply into someone’s eyes. It would not be suspicious at all, even though Three isn’t really sure how to look more or less deeply into anyone’s eyes at all. Eyes are not flat, but even when Three Looks, it isn’t as though there is anything interesting in there.
Martyn is sweating somewhat. He looks away first.
Three’s pretty sure this counts as a victory, especially given Martyn can’t see Three’s face behind the mask anyway. It is good Three has now won the game of ‘staring lovingly into its date’s eyes’, because that had been a strange, threatening mortal ritual. It would rather not do that again.
“Haha, thanks again for agreeing to this date,” Martyn says, very suspiciously looking around the small cafe in a bustling semi-private Origins server. “It’s been so long since we’ve gotten to hang out like this. Gods, do I sound stupid.”
“You do,” Three says.
“You don’t have to answer those,” Martyn says.
“Will comply,” Three says.
“Oh, for the love of—we’re on a date. A date!” Here, Martyn winks obnoxiously. “It’s not a mission.” He winks obnoxiously again. “Besides, you should lighten up!”
“Will comply,” Three says.
“You know, I had forgotten how obnoxious that was,” Martyn says cheerfully. “Anyway, I should order us some drinks! Have some conversation! Keep an eye out around us, yeah, for our waiter?”
“You are not very subtle,” Three says.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Martyn says. “Besides, honestly? I am really glad to just hang out with you. Because we’re dating! On this server for fancy couples. Yep.”
The problem is, of course, that a fancy origins server is a great place for the strangest of people to hide.
When Martyn had asked a favor, Three had been… uncertain. This was not because Three doesn’t care for Martyn—it does, greatly—or because Three didn’t want to see Martyn—they’d met up a few times before now, tentative and quiet and frustrated and all the things that were hard to explain, and then in all the ways they were okay again—but because Martyn, for all Three cares for him, is still an idiot.
Three is its own handler, now. It does not have to follow handlers that are morons. It had told Martyn this. When Martyn had stopped wheezing, he’d explained that it’d be fun. Not Listener business, he promised; he still hadn’t quite gotten out, but he wouldn’t drag Three in, Scout’s honor.
(Three believes him. It’s never been that Three doesn’t trust him.)
It was a friend of Martyn’s that had gone missing. Apparently, on some fancy modded server? And now, Martyn wanted Three to come help him do some recon because, quote, “Jimmy laughed at me until he cried and that hurt me a little bit, not going to lie, and I’ve used up the favors Ren owes me, and Oli was busy. Have you met Oli? You’d like Oli.”
(Three did not like Oli.)
Three agreed, despite its better judgement. The reason it thought this may be a poor plan was because—
“Ah, the lovely Valentines,” the waiter says. He gives them a plate of lovely heart-shaped calamari. Three wonders if they had belonged to heart-shaped squid. “It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s wonderful here with my beloved!” Martyn says.
The waiter and Martyn both look at Three. Three doesn’t say anything and sits perfectly still.
“Um,” the waiter says.
“It’s for a health condition,” Martyn says, which technically isn’t a lie.
“Very well, sirs, although it may get in the way of the kissing competition!”
Martyn, who had just started sipping some wine, chokes on it.
“I will win the kissing competition,” Three says.
Martyn chokes harder.
“I will see you to it!” the waiter says. “And of course, our patented species comparability exam is the highlight of the evening.”
“Oh. I am not sure I can produce viable offspring,” Three says.
The waiter stares at Three. Three stares back, although not into the waiter’s eyes, as to not cause any confusion. The mask somewhat prevents that from working, though.
“Very well then,” the waiter says. “I suppose just—do you need help?”
“It knows what it’s doing,” Martyn hisses.
“I did do research before coming here,” Three says.
“I’ll just head on,” the waiter says, in a tone that suggests to Three that maybe it did not do enough research before agreeing to help Martyn.
Oh well.
At least the mask means it doesn’t have to keep a straight face as it picks Martyn off the ground and, completely flat in tone, says: “Do not die. I would be sad if you died of something as stupid as choking on wine.”
“I asked for this,” Martyn says.
“Yes,” Three says. “You did. That is why I am here.”
(Beneath the table, it grabs Martyn’s hand. Martyn squeezes Three’s hand back. It had missed him, though. For all they do not see each other often—)
(Well. It had missed him, though.)
#answered#ask game#strifetxt#solving counting sheep talk#a bee fic#not going to fandom tag this one because frankly scs always confuses me on whether it’d be rude to ;-;#anyway lei your brain is so huge. this is such an inherently funny concept.#hermitshipping#trafficshipping#I MEAN. NO THIS ONE IS PLATONIC ACTUALLY BUT I FEEL LIKE PEOPLE WHO HAVE THOSE TAGS BLOCKED WOULDNT WANNA SEE THIS#so I am BEING POLITE.#anyway I love solving counting sheep I should write side stories for it#I still periodically rotate three in my head like a rotisserie chicken.#THIS IS VERY STUPID BTW.#set nebulously A. Few? years after canon#up to you to decide EXACTLY win but it’s implied here some rats and some third life equivalent happened#so do with that as you will idk if that’s canon in my head but since its post fic canon who cares
131 notes
·
View notes
Text
A.U.gust 2023 | DAY THREE - Body Swap
thanks to @gallavichthings for hosting! 🥳
“Damn! So this is what it feels like to have a fuckin’ bratwurst swingin’ around down there?” Mickey proudly shakes Ian’s hips.
Ian could explode. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now? Really?”
A cocked ginger brow. “You oughta be thinkin’ ‘bout it too.” A bite of a freckled lip. “On account ‘a you bein’ me.”
That’s interesting.
Ian—Mickey—focuses his frayed attention on that spot deep inside him. The one that likes it good and hard. A wave of want crashes through him.
“Alright, tough guy,” he drawls. “You wanna chit chat or you wanna get on me?”
#hehehehe#i never in a million years thought about writing a bodyswap fic#but this feels right#i hope today gives us some spicy art 🌶#a.u.gust 2023#day three#body swap#shameless#shameless fanfiction#ian x mickey#bee writes 🐝 ✍🏼
64 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hey all. As someone who has been recently come across a tricky issue.
Plagiarism is not okay. Even if it's inspiration.
First. If you are inspired by a fic and plan on your own take on the story, be sure to reach out to the author first. And im not talking about, say a movie re-imagining, au premise, or any other common template. I'm talking about the exact story an author wrote.
Even if it is hiatus, make sure its okay for you to take a stab at the story if the author isn't orphaned on ao3. Reach out. Talk to them. Discuss your inspiration and find a way to write it in your own words. Don't steal sentences from the fic you are inspired from and do not just change words around in a sentence.
That's plagiarism.
#for context one of my fics was plagerized for three chapters#and i could have bee a LOT worse bringing ao3 into it#while my advice went unheard at this time im gonna reach out again#cause this author is young and new and needs to learn the difference between inspired writing and plagerism#and i dont want to get them banned cause then they have no chance to actually learn from the lesson
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
#Three More Tips For Aspiring Authors#tips#tricks#life hacks#helpful hints#advice#writing#writers#author#authors#Tobey Brainsworth#bees#pants
286 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hello to the anon that sent me the mommy wanda lactation kink thought… I’m hoarding this temporarily to write a short lil thing on it, I hope you don’t mind 💖
#my brain went to like.. civil war era wanda and I know exactly what I wanna write hehehehe#I just have to go to work today and cook three thanksgiving dishes so I’m a lil busy bee#BUT I WILL DO IT#motts speaks.
44 notes
·
View notes
Text
I know everyone likes to joke about Shu’s restricted access to social media and how he would be a menace about Valkyrie’s online presence but I also like to imagine him having an alt just to be incredibly defensive of Ra*bits. And specifically ibara finding out about it due to a suspicious number of French death threats sent to Ra*bits haters. Like the whole account is painfully obviously his but the only posts are replies to people saying mean things about Ra*bits. The conspiracy scene for fans in the Enstars universe must be insane.
#and not just nazuna either. just all of ra*bits. for no particular reason.#shu is THE tsundere and I 100% believe he is Ra*bits stan number one#obviously his favorite is nazuna but he does his due diligence buying merch for the other three#sorry y’all I am plagued by Shu Thoughts atm and it’s making writing very difficult#he by design cannot be the focus of almost any of my historical fantasy AU but that’s the only thing I wanna write. so.#my brain is full of bees I cannot think coherently#Enstars#itsuki shu#ra*bits#yori rambles#I’m sure people have said this before in ways that make more sense but my head hurts and I’m trying to pretend I still feel things
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Summary: Joan believed their bees needed the good news as much as she did. Sherlock Holmes & Joan Watson & Arthur Watson, 1348 words; episode tag to "Their Last Bow." Written for Three Sentence Ficathon using the prompt Elementary, Sherlock Holmes & Joan Watson & Arthur (Joan's son), telling the bees
#topaz writes fic#elementary#elementasquee#joan watson#arthur watson#sherlock holmes#a happy bee proclamation#three sentence ficathon#elementary fanfiction#the fic outgrew its prompt oops#yeah still working on that
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Brainstorming something…
If this fic does end up coming together and getting published, it will be a short story maybe like 5-8 chapters long or something around that range
It is sweet, sad, short, and a little smutty but not in a dirty way if that makes sense… I guess in other words, make love not fuck.
Stay tuned maybe.. possibly.. I don’t know.
#I have three other stories I am currently writing and am adding a fourth to the mix hahaha oops#kendall roy#original female character#kendall x ofc#fanfic#ao3#fanfiction#bee’s updates
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fire Hazard
❤ A Valentine's Day Special! ❤
Summary || [Kurt Kunkle X Female Reader SMUT] You’re having second thoughts about what you want from your boyfriend.
No Murder AU | 5.3k words | NO BETA/ SELF-EDITED, Swearing, Valentine’s Day Theme, Prompt: “Day Two + Kurt Kunkle + Candles,” Established Relationship, Mild Angst, Dog (Kurt’s Pet Pitbull), Brief Baby Talk, Public Displays of Affection, Groping, Mentions of Vaping and Substance Abuse, Dysfunctional Family, Banter, 69ing, Double Penetration (dildo), Rough Sex, Subspace, Choking, Squirting, No Contraceptives, Dangerous Emergency Conditions, Caught Naked.
More Valentines! | Just Keery Fics | Main Masterlist
You had been dating Kurt since the previous summer. Dating was starting to feel like an inappropriate word for it as you both acted a little more like teens fooling around rather than young adults courting. The unconventionality of it didn’t bother you originally! What you have with Kurt feels extremely passionate compared to previous relationships. It feels equal and mutual. His parents sucked, so why would you want to be introduced to them? You’re both strapped for cash, so why go out for a fancy dinner? It wasn’t a relationship based purely on sex nor was it lacking, so what is there to improve upon? But eventually, you started looking around you and seeing some metaphorical tiles missing from your roof.
All of this turmoil is on your mind as you stand outside your favorite taco stand where Kurt told you to meet him. Your old school rival just posted a picture of her and her new boyfriend captioned: all I wanted for Valentine’s Day was flowers and a card, but this guy went all out cooking my favorite meal and playing a love song. I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHEN HE LEARNED TO PLAY VIOLIN HAHA
The tweet only makes your ire worse as you stand in the February cold shaking in your skirt and ankle boots. You called your most sensible friend to see if they could talk you down.
“Ooh no, what’s wrong?,” they joked as they picked up. You spit words at a rapid fire rate trying to explain how your relationship suddenly didn’t feel serious anymore with concerns that Kurt might be an incompatible partner for you. When you finally ran out of breath, your friend took a wise, deep breath and answered, “I think you might be catastrophizing, babe. Relationship 101 says you gotta communicate to him what you need in order to feel happy. Have you talked to him yet?”
“...no,” you replied sheepishly. “I don’t know how to say what I mean without making it sound like I’m breaking up with him, though.”
“Look babe, you don’t actually know if he’ll react poorly. Just remember to communicate and compromise with him. Don’t let your anxiety drive you crazy.”
You sigh in relief and throw your head back. “See this shit is exactly why you need to be a counselor!”
The beep, beep, beep of the phone hanging up leads you to laugh (its a common rib among your friends, as is hanging up after hearing shitty puns) and you fire off a real text thanking them for their advice. The cold is almost all but forgotten when you hear a car honking and pulling up at the empty spot on the curb. It’s Kurt in his silver prius giving you a happy little wave wearing the hoodie you left in his car and a Kurtsworld96 beanie.
As you walk up to his window trying to prepare yourself for the Talk, Kurt rolls down the window and yells, “hi babe! Happy Valentine’s Day! Come here, I’ve got something for you!”
You make it to the passenger side door and have to turn your head in confusion. “... are there candles in your car?”
Kurt opens your door from the inside and waves you in frantically. As you climb in, the hair on your arms stands up even more when you realize how many candles there actually are. Thankfully they aren’t lit but they are placed like he intends to. You feel Kurt press a kiss to your ear.
“Hey, to all my new Kurties out there, this is not a joke! This is my real actual girlfriend!”
Your heart sinks. Fuck, he’s streaming right now? How could you forget that he streams basically everything? You cannot have this serious conversation with the internet watching. Plus you’re still mad about the ‘fans’ who made a comprehensive foot cam compilation video from streams and your instagram and your mom's facebook album (yes, they included your childhood pics, the sick fucks). You’re still blocking DMs asking you for feet pics at least five times a day.
You don’t hear a single word coming out of Kurt’s mouth as you round on him so fast he freezes like a deer in headlights. “Turn the stream off. Now, Kurt.”
Kurt sputtered. “I-I, you said–”
“I know!” You had half heartedly agreed to let him stream part of your date the week before. “I know what I said but… just turn it off now, please.”
Kurt looks like a kicked puppy as he nods and mumbles some sort of promise to update his viewers later, then ends the stream. He looks up at you through his lashes and squirms uncomfortably in the driver’s seat.
“Can you drive to the Wok, please? The one I like…”
“Are we going to talk about–”
“Yes! But I don’t want to talk about it in the car,” you interject and slump into your seat.
The whole ride is pure, disquieting silence. You know Kurt’s racking his brain trying to figure out how to apologize even though he hasn’t done anything wrong and you mentally kick yourself. This was exactly the thing you didn’t want to happen, you knew you would fuck up and snap at him all because of your own anxiety. You just need to force yourself to be quiet and try to calm down.
Your steaming silence fuels Kurt to tiptoe around you– something he has never done before with anyone. He parks and ushers you inside, bouncing on the balls of his feet and so nervous that the host who tries to seat you raises an eyebrow. You ask for a private table and a pot of tea. The table you are given has a nice red privacy curtain and optional seating. Sighing, you throw yourself onto the bean bag and scurry to pull your skirt back down.
Kurt sits himself delicately on the edge of a neighboring bench and hesitantly asks, “...can I sit with you?”
Of course you hold your arms out to him like a moody toddler demanding to be coddled and Kurt complies with visible relief. He pulls you up so he can settle next to you, cuddling but aware of the public setting beyond the curtain.
"Okay so… what's going on?," he asks quietly.
You sigh and melt further into his side, still unsure about how to voice your concern. You are saved by the return of the server who took your food order. And now nothing stood in your way, you just have to say it.
"I…" you swallow your fear and try to meet his eyes. "I… feel… like you don't take our relationship seriously."
Kurt balked as if you had slapped him. "What do you mean?!"
"What I mean is that…" you want to back peddle your statement so much but you need to move forward. Go! Forward! "I mean that I love you, but… I hate that we only have sex in your car."
"Oh well–"
"I'm not finished, Kurt! Shush!" Your boyfriend closes his mouth and tries to stay quiet until your direction. "I hate that you only fuck me in your car and I hate that we only play videogames at our own homes for your streams and I hate when we go to influencer parties just so you can get tagged in one picture and stay for hours even though we both want to go home."
You can't look him in the eye as your problem becomes clearer in your own head. "I don't hate you, Kurt. I don't want to see other people or whatever. I just… want to do everything about the day-to-day differently!"
Kurt blinked. You had summarized your entire relationship in three short activities. The only part of your relationship that wasn't uploaded to the internet was your sex life and that is only because you asked him not to. You weren't asking him for money or clout or to meet his family. You just wanted more of him.
"I can do that," Kurt said half to himself. He bumped his head into yours and held your gaze as he said, "we can do that, we can do more. Whatever you want, babe, I promise!"
Relief washes over you and your food order arrives in time for you both to dig in. A part of you is still skeptical that lasting changes will be made, but time will tell if he'll make good on his promise to be more exciting with the relationship and not fall back and demand you go back to the 'easy' stuff.
You catch him typing up a tweet and he lets you read it before he sends it. It’s just an apology to his viewers and official announcement of the canceled Valentine’s Day stream with the reason of wanting to spend unpressured quality time with his girlfriend. You split the bill on a full belly and broke away to use the bathroom, texting a thank you to your advice friend and letting them know your talk worked out.
Kurt was waiting for you by the woman’s bathroom door and kissed you as soon as you exit. He throws an arm around your shoulder as you walk out and head back to his car which is still buried in dozens of candles. He hurries forward and in a flourish, opens the passenger door for you. It’s cheesy, sure, but cute and it does make you feel a little special.
“Gah, I need to get rid of these,” he says as he has to pick a few up from the driver’s side floor and throw them in the back. “Do you mind coming to my house real quick? I’ll dump them and then we can do whatever you want to do today, okay?”
…
Kurt's house is just fifteen minutes away and you chat about nothing the whole way but still end up making plans for a stream next week and an un-streamed nature trip. It isn't until he pulls up into his driveway that you feel those butterflies return to your stomach.
You really don't wanna meet his parents, at least not today. You know it will put your boyfriend in a bad mood anyways, but Kurt insists they shouldn't be home. He also ushers you to go inside and let him clean up by himself.
Kurt gives you the house key and you let yourself in, creeping quietly around the bungalow and checking every room for signs of life. Aside from a sleepy pitbull in the laundry room, no one's home. You catch your breath and help yourself to a drink from the fridge, picking from things you hope are Kurt's.
Meanwhile, Boyfriend runs back and forth carrying bundles of candles in his arms, some of which fall to the ground and nearly break. The dog joins in and almost trips him causing you to laugh and get a glare in return.
You don't remember falling asleep on his couch but you are awoken by a hot tongue. "...I hope that's the dog."
"It is," Kurt says as he leans over the back of the couch like he's been watching you sleep. "Ready to start a real date, sleeping beauty?"
…
The mall is a little eccentric tourist attraction and your date starts with a brand new romantic movie playing at the theater. The least packed room still has rows and rows of couples and loud kids and couples with loud kids. You and Kurt get some decent-ish seats and buckle down with all the snacks you snuck in. You are practically sitting in the same seat, your legs thrown over his and his arm around your shoulders and his other hand very unsubtly groping your upper thigh in between popping popcorn and candy into his mouth.
The movie starts and the lights come down, but the noisy crowd never truly goes quiet and the littlest kids scream in disgust every time a kiss happens. You slap Kurt with a twizzler and he retaliates by taking a bite out of it.
Your mouth brushes against his ear as you whisper. "Are you going to tell me why it took you an hour to get those candles out of your car?"
With a sly smile, Kurt just shrugs and squeezes your breast which earns him a scolding from an annoyed movie goer who caught him. After the movie ends (so stupid, 10/10), you race each other to the bowling alley and get kicked out for vaping indoors (Kurt’s fault entirely), then enter a few expensive clothes shops to try things on which almost ends with you getting dicked down in a changing room. It’s dark out when you hit up a Baskin Robbins for ice cream before heading back to his house.
Your face aches from smiling so much. In the car, Kurt pulls a bullet vibrator out of the center console and hands it to you. When you don’t move, he pushes your hand closer to you.
“What? It’s clean,” he says.
“I know it’s not clean, Kurt.” You turn it on and slip it in his pocket just as a red light turns green and watch with glee as he squirms the rest of the way back to his house.
…
Somehow– possibly due to distraction from such a blessedly fun day and anticipating sex that wasn’t in a car for once– you missed the fact that the house had lights on. Kurt was grabbing something he forgot in his trunk and you waltzed up ahead and entered the house’s side door. Instantly you are greeted by Kurt’s pitbull, waggling its tailless butt and bouncing from foot to foot.
“Hi baby! Hi!,” you coo and crouch just inside the doorway, both trying to block it and trying to get further inside which is easier said than done with a dog this strong. “Are you happy to see me? Oh, so happy! Are you doing a happy little dance with your happy little feet?! Happy, happy feet! Oh the happiest little feet!”
The dog howls in song and you imitate it playfully, only to realize there’s a middle aged man in sweatpants watching you from the kitchen. Embarrassed, you stop howling and push the dog gently across the tiles and manage to shut the door properly, hoping it doesn’t obstruct Kurt. The unknown man has lots of grays in his patchy facial hair and looks at you with confusion and disbelief, like you’re a hooligan interrupting a rich man’s dinner.
Fuck, this is totally Kurt’s dad! “...hi. I’m… Kurt��s girlfriend… he let me come over…”
“Oh,” Kurt’s dad– what the fuck is his name?- let his guard down and you wonder if he might have been calling the cops. “Well, uh, hi. It’s nice to finally meet you…”
You give him your name and Mr. Kunkle nods. “Where is Kurt, by the way? I kind of need to talk to him?”
As if hearing his name, Kurt appeared behind his father. You give him a look and he just says he was upstairs.
“Hey,” Mr. Kunkle is clearly slurring his words, “you know the club by the McDonalds with the playhouse? I need you to take me there, I have a gig tonight.”
You have never seen Kurt angry before. It scares you. Mr. Kunkle’s substance abuse problems are legitimately the only things you know about him and it hadn’t occurred to you until now the drunken sway he seemed to have just standing still, he looked like he was standing on the deck of a pirate ship. And he’s going to fuck up everything…
“Oh, you can just take the car!,” you shout abruptly.
“What,” the men ask simultaneously.
Thinking fast, you cross the kitchen and nearly push Mr. Kunkle out of your way, snatching Kurt’s keys from his pocket and shoving them into Mr. Kunkle’s hands before beginning to push him towards the front door.
“Yeah, absolutely! We wouldn’t want you to be late or anything! And you know, Kurts been sick ever since we left the mall, he should really be on the toilet or maybe in the shower in case he pukes!”
“What the fuck–” you stifle Kurt’s protests with a hand in his face and continue to shove Mr. Kunkle out the door.
“HAVE FUN, SIR!” –and then you slam the door, finally alone.
“Are you crazy? He can’t be driving my car, what you thinking,” Kurt gets in your face as you start to push him towards the stairs.
“I was thinking we can have sex without company!” Kurt stops resisting you and lets you bully him to move faster, taking the second door on the left into his bedroom with a mysterious warm glow. “I was thinking I didn’t want your dad walking in on us naked and sucking each others… K-Kurt, did you do this?”
Inside the room was quite small and contained a closet, a mattress and bedding on the floor, and a computer desk and dozens and dozens of lit candles. Arranged in a line on the edge of the desk and in clusters around the bed where they were arranged in groups of four and “stabilized” by makeshift candle holders (read: dinner plates). Smells like something woodsy (Sandalwood? Palo santo? Cedar?), hinting sweet (Mango or Apricot?) and something flowery (rose probably) hung in the air like a thick warm blanket, almost chokingly and it makes you want to open his window.
“Kurt when did you…” you turn to him for an answer and find him reaching around you to unzip your jacket and slip it off your shoulders.
“I did it while you were talking to my dad.” Kurt’s hands slide over your belly and he pulls you back against his body, swaying gently. “Do you like it? I tried to pick your favorites.”
“And that’s really sweet, baby, but… this is a fire hazard.”
Kurt scoffed. “Come on, babe, it’s not that serious! They’re not even touching the carpet!”
“I know but they’re also not far from the carpet and fuck there’s a lot of them– hold on a second, let go real quick–” you dance around the candles and throw open his window as wide as you can get it without setting yourself on fire. “Holy shit, fresh air.”
“Jesus, just–” Kurt catches you by your hip and picks you up to lay you on the bed, “- can you turn your brain off for a second and let me love on you? Please?”
Sprawled beneath him, you think about it. “...no cameras, right?”
Kurt groans louder and gets off the bed. He blows out a couple candles that nearly burn his arm as he reaches for the computer mouse to show you that nothing is being recorded. Instead, as the monitor comes awake so does the speaker, both playing the sights and sounds of some twenty-something chick getting railed by two guys. Kurt swears, slapping the keyboard in a hurry to turn it off but you’re already laughing at him.
“Okay! Point proven,” you giggle and kick your shoes off, careful to set them between the candles. “Geez, maybe we should invite one of your friends over and try that.”
“Fuck no.” Kurt slips his shirt over his head and tosses it carelessly, narrowly missing the candles and both of you wince. When he unbuckles his belt, he’s looking around for space to put his clothes and settles for under the desk. “‘M not fucking sharing you with anybody.”
“Aww,” you say as you unhook your bra and shuck your tights off without tearing them. “What about a dildo?”
Kurt nods as he unzips his jeans, your eyes immediately drawn to the bulge in his boxers. “I can do that, yeah. I think I got one, lemme look. Keep getting naked!”
Your boyfriend digs through his closet and you lie back and wait with one hand on your breast and the other between your legs, sighing contently as you finally give yourself that much needed attention that you’ve been aching for since lunch. Kurt crawls back into bed and sets the belt and toy aside before leaning on his hands and kissing you passionately. You can still taste the rocky road on his tongue from the ice cream shop, and wrap both your arms around his neck to keep him close.
Kurt does shake your kiss off to ask, “did I hear you say something about sucking each other off?”
It isn’t long before you’ve switched positions– with you on top but facing the other way, Kurt’s soft locks brushing your sensitive inner thighs while you hunker down, elbows on his hips and mouth watering. Kurt's thighs shake as you wrap your hand around him, the cold of your palm and fingers touching and stretching back the burning hot velvety skin of his shaft.
With his lips against your clit, he moans. His wide hands slide up over your ass and squeeze your cheeks, drawing your center closer so his tongue can skim and tease other parts of you, slipping between your folds and tasting your slick.
"More Kurt, please."
Kurt obliges by wetting a few fingers with his mouth and pushing them into your channel down to the knuckle.
You gasp, spit dripping out of your mouth and onto his cock, which you use to quickly coat him in and lick his tip, taking the salty pre-cum and mixing it with more spit and using your hand to spread it back down to his root and over his sack.
Impatient, Kurt bucks his hips and gags you, the tip of his cock knocking lightly against the roof of your mouth. He sighs into your throbbing clit and inserts a finger into your ass alongside the ones fucking your pussy.
"Kurt,” you cough, “don’t want you to come yet…”
He smacks your ass with the hand he was fucking your pussy with. “Get up then, babe. Can you get on all fours for me?”
“Sure,” you reply, then lay back down on your belly and second guess yourself.
Kurt focuses on lubing the dildo and figuring out how he wants to wear it. It’s cute the way his brow furrows and his lip curls, not a single real thought passing through in his brain. You pull on his wrist and take it from him by the pink shaft, and he kisses you in thanks with a strong hand on the back of your neck.
“Hey!” You throw Kurt down on the bed, his hair flopping over the corner of his mattress. His surprise changes to want as you straddle him so his happy trail tickles your sex. His voice drops deeper as he hums, “heyyy…”
“Stop fucking around and put this on,” your giggling turns into a laugh when you gently slap him with the dildo and he sputters indignantly. “Oh my god, your face!”
You laugh yourself into tears while Kurt wipes the lube that was streaked across his cheeks. He grumbles as he wraps the belt of the harness around his hips and ends up just as confused as before because usually you’re the one wearing this and it’s made to be strapped between your legs too but if he wants to use his cock too he has to wear it upside down but won’t it slip around when you’re fucking and and–
Kurt doesn’t notice you’re moving until he feels warmth envelop his hard, red cock. He looks down with wide eyes, taking you all in– arms propped behind you, legs firmly planted forward and your hips rising and falling like a perverted crab walk where you work his girth deeper into your hole.
Kurt pouts, “I wanted to fuck your pussy…”
You answer by taking him all the way to the hilt and lean forward with a mischievous head tilt and reply, “well this way, you don’t have to wear the condom you didn’t grab!”
Fair enough, he does like raw dogging. Finally, the dildo is secured over his pubs and he helps you lift up to put the tip in your pussy and sink down slowly. His hands are nearly bruising with the strength of his grip and the muscles in his arms strain because he needs you to go slow, doesn’t want to stop or pause because you hurt yourself taking too much too fast. He gulps as he feels the tip massage the top of his shaft through the thin membrane wall until you’re sat down again, properly filled.
When the two of you first became intimate, Kurt quickly came to learn that you are a tough bitch to overwhelm. The first time he pulled your hair, the first time he gagged you on his cock, the first time he groped your naked breast and bit your shoulder as he came (all occurrences performed inside of his car), you barely flinched. Unfazed by his roughness and admitting which ones you loved and which ones you would merely allow. He felt like he could never really surprise you in a good way, that he might never truly wow you during sex.
But right now? Right now you are entirely dependent on him to hold you upright. He doesn’t remember how but he’s got your arm in one hand and pulling tight to keep you from flopping over. Your breaths are shaking, whining, eyes unfocused and rolling, sweat glistening in the candlelight. He manages to pull you forward enough to catch you with a steadying hand against your collarbone, hand spanning wide thumb at the hollow of your throat and fingers curling on your shoulder.
“You okay, baby?,” he asks. You nod weakly, and he hesitantly suggests, “you feel full?”
Your answer is a pitiful whine. He has never seen you like this, so lust drunk, he doesn’t have the words to describe what is happening to you. Either way, it’s making him throb inside you. When you can support yourself (both hands planted on his hairy, sweaty chest), he caresses your body from belly to thighs.
“You wanna lie down? Babe?” He pets your forehead hoping you’ll open your eyes and you do, still floating but also tethered, like a balloon on a string. “You okay?”
“M okay,” your words are slurred. “No, I wanna be up, ‘kay…”
You start your little dance slowly. Your hips move in circles, adjusting to the dual sensation of penetration. Kurt watches you in awe. He helps you transition to lazy thrusts, biting into his bottom lip to keep himself from finishing too quickly. He loves seeing you like this. It’s not the first time you’ve ridden him but fuck, you were right that fucking on a bed is better than the cramped confines of a prius. He could actually lean back and see all of you, no fear of getting charlie horses while he’s trying to blow your back out. Just your bouncing naked tits and messy hair and no concern of being arrested for public indecency.
“Harder, Kurt,” you beg breathlessly.
“Fuck… okay baby…”
Kurt can barely hold onto you, his hands too slippery for a proper grip so he moves up to your waist and begins to thrust into you. The harder he drives himself and the dildo into you, the louder the sounds that punch out of your chest. But you’re not close enough to orgasm while he’s teetering on the edge, and while he's not put off by overstimulation, he prefers to experience it as a consequence of your sadism which he's not gonna get with your current mindless state.
"Hey," Kurt pats your cheek and shakes you in order to gain your attention. "Hey!"
He sits up unexpectedly and traps you against his chest. Between the sickly sweet heat from the candles, their overworked bodies, and the cold breeze, feeling Kurt's hot body against your stark cold nipple made you hiss and try to squirm away.
"What?, you snap, finally coming back to yourself.
"There you are! Pay attention, I'm trying to make you come," he scolds you.
Before you can say anything back, his hand slips between you and roughly begins circling your neglected clit, making you gasp. Your ass constricts around his raw cock and he falls back onto the bed as a new flood of adrenaline flows through him.
"Come on, baby…"
One slight angle adjustment later and your body shudders involuntarily. Kurt isn't sure if it's your g-spot, but he's ready to find out. His hand comes around your throat roughly as he drills into you faster and harder, reveling in the feeling of your throat constricting under his hand.
Your last noise is a wet gurgle as your eyes roll back before you come, showering his lower half in liquid and fluttering tightly on him. Kurt empties his sack quickly while you're still being rocked by aftershocks before he lowers you across his chest and pulls out.
“Holy shit that was good,” Kurt pants and chuckles at your lazy grunt.
“Is something burning?,” your voice is muffled by the sheets.
“Yeah, fucking candles– OH FUCK!”
Well shit, the carpet is on fire. Maybe catching so quickly as it fell on one of the many mystery stains in the room. Frantically, you climb off of Kurt and start using your fingers to pinch other candles out, looking over your shoulder to see the fire is growing rather slowly.
“WHAT DO WE DO?”
“HOSE, GET A HOSE.”
Kurt leaps over the other lit candles and disappears out the door. You stand up and swipe a discarded flannel shirt to wear before following him– and running directly into his dad again.
“What the fuck is going on?” Mr. Kunkle tries not to look at your nearly nude figure and barely manages to step out of the way before Kurt comes barrelling back to you, handing off the unattached garden hose.
“Attach this end to the bathroom sink and turn it on. Now, Kurt!”
You wait by the still open door and watch the free fire consume a plate full of candles and catch on edge of the mattress. The heat is getting more intense as precious seconds tick by waiting for a signal from Kurt. So of course an older woman appears also in the house who you have to presume is Kurt's mom and she had clearly seen the fire from outside judging by her hysterics.
"I got it!," Kurt finally shouts above the roar of the fire and you squeeze the trigger, dousing his entire bedroom in gallons of water until the last orange flame is extinguished.
Kurt stands behind you looking dumbfounded. "Holy shit…"
Your boyfriend's mom is red in the face. "You are in so much trouble, Kurtis. And put some fucking clothes on, young man!"
Suddenly feeling self conscious, you rewrap the flannel around your naked body and tip toe into the room to see how bad the damage is. The carpet is completely fucked: black and filling the room with some awful chemical smell that was probably going to delete some brain cells the longer you inhale it, and where the edges are browned, there is also candle wax from those fallen and consumed.
You had tried to keep the nozzle down and while the fire hadn't crept towards his computer desk, you may have fucked up the tower anyways with the spray. The mattress could technically still be slept on and suffered the least amount of damage.
But considering the fact that the bedroom is littered with evidence of sheer stupidity, you know neither of you are going to be able to make up any real excuses for this.
You gave Mr. Kunkle an awkward thumbs up and toss him a pair of boxers you found in Kurt's closet, then push the door closed as you are determined not to spend any more time barely clothed in front of his parents. And while you are sure that you will not be invited back into the house anytime soon (if ever), you smile to yourself knowing you ultimately got what you wanted for Valentine's Day.
More Valentines! | Main Masterlist
Am I proud of this one? Yeah! Is it good? ...uh I plead the fifth, its dirty and thats all that matters to me. Please leave a like, comment, and reblog to show this fic some love if you wanna see more of this!
#three bees writing#kurt kunkle smut#valentines day fic#bee's archive of fiction#black reader insert#joe keery character fiction#kurt kunkle x female reader
74 notes
·
View notes
Text
Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson | Stranger Things 4 || Double Penetration // Stripping
Eddie Lives AU/Post-Season 4; 3.6k words; Swearing, Steve and Reader Established Relationship, Everybody Is Bisexual, Mutual Pining, Polyamory (male + male + female), Teasing/ Flirting, Camping Trip (80s horror movie reference), Partial Roleplay (Daddy Eddie, Mommy Reader, Baby Steve), Semi-Public Threesome, Oral Sex (male receiving), Spanking, Spitting, Tears, Edging, Overstimulation, Double Penetration, Assumed Contraception (Reader Is On The Pill), Double Creampie
Previous | Masterlist | Next: Leonard Bast Spanking
You and Steve wanted to celebrate. It was both your 6th anniversary of dating and you had managed to defeat a really awful professor to get your degree. You both explained as much to Eddie in the garage he started working at.
"A doctorate degree!," Steve yelled excitedly over the machinery whirring, "she's a freaking doctor now!"
"Well, not in medicine, don't confuse him…"
Eddie Munson threw off his safety glasses and pursed his lips. "...that doesn't explain why you want me to go camping with you."
You and Steve exchanged a secretive glance. "It'll be more fun with you there–" "We just really want you to come!"
The metalhead was still suspicious but on the day the lovebirds were packing he showed up with booze and reefer. "Just the important things," he explained.
You rolled your eyes and laughed. "The tent and the water might disagree with you, but we're glad to have you nonetheless."
Eddie's hunch about something fishy going on never left him, and there were a dozen small things that occurred that only made him feel stronger in his resolve. The whisper session at the gas station, the flicking glances along the drive, the sneaky lip locking that ceased the second they thought he was looking.
You two were dating. Eddie knew this, and yet you were acting secretive about it. Why? You and Steve couldn't possibly know that a tiny needle of jealous desire jabbed him every time he saw you engage in physical affection. He was so good at hiding it and had been doing so successfully for years.
"Why Camp Crystal Lake?"
You were driving this last leg of the journey and quickly flicked a confused glance his way before returning your eyes to the road. Eddie was sat in the middle of the bench seat of your hatchback between you and your boyfriend, his right arm slung lazily over the back of it behind Steve and the other propping his head up to look at you. He had already tried several times to grill the truth out of Steve, but he wouldn't break. It was time to try again with you, though he had less hope of success.
"Why. Are we going. To Camp Crystal Lake?," he asked again, mockingly slow. "we passed by at least half a dozen perfectly good camping sites full of kids and rednecks. There's even one local to Hawkins so why... are we driving seven hours north to camp out in butt fuck nowhere?"
You shrugged your shoulders in amusement. "For privacy. Crystal Lake's been closed since '81. No rules, no nosy cops: just us, some abandoned supplies, and the woods."
"Sick," Eddie said. "You know if you wanted to be fucked in the woods or by a lake, we have those at home too. Remember Lover's Lake?"
You rolled your eyes and batted his chest. "I'm not worried about me getting caught, idiot."
Eddie looks for an explanation from Steve but he was literally turning his back to him and pretending (poorly) not to be hiding from the whole conversation. Checking with you, he saw you look annoyed by Steve's reaction and making meaningful eye contact with Eddie- meaning which he did not yet understand.
"So you are hoping to get fucked!," Eddie brings it back to his first point of protest about coming on your vacation. "Tough that, bringing me along as a third wheel. A little cruel, actually. What am I supposed to do, sit there and watch?"
"Eddie," you take your foot off the gas and pin him with a hard stare. "We want you here to do way more than watch. Hey, can you pass something off to Steve for me?"
"Uh? Sure." Then you slapped him hard on the chest, almost winding him. "Ouch!"
You gesture vaguely in Steve's direction, expecting him to follow through. And he does, pushing Steve by his back so hard his head almost went through the window.
"What?!" Steve loses control of the volume of his voice and when he turns around, his face is scarlet. Confusion only worsens as Eddie looked at his friend who was sweating profusely, way more than is normal for a breezy Indiana summer with all the hatchback's windows cranked down.
Eddie feels a touch creeping up his left thigh and looks down at it, frozen. Lust strikes through his groin at the sight of your hand settling inches from his cock, and then he notices Steve's own longing gaze as he sees it as well. Not jealous, not heartbroken. Longing. Lustful. Like she's touching him by extension... or like he wants to mirror her action.
Oh, things are starting to click together. Things Eddie has suspected but never had the nerve to confirm at the risk of alienating his friendships. Unconsciously, his thighs spread and a knee bumps up against Steve's, who doesn't budge from his position.
"It's going to take an hour to set up camp," you informed the group as you turned off the barely populated highway down a gravel road with thousands of thick pines lining the way. "I think it's time we were honest about our intentions, yeah?"
Steve's eyes become wide as saucers and he tries to turn away but Eddie's hand catches his jaw roughly and drags him back, forcing him to look in his eyes. The boy is looking thoroughly humiliated but not unhappy with the current position. A hundred images flash in Eddie's mind of King Steve, who Eddie had always presumed was a top or at least the dominant type, bending to your will (and especially your touch) like a rubber ball that bounces right back into its proper shape once the pressure lifts.
"Stevie," Eddie sings. "Go on. Tell Daddy what you're hiding."
Sweet, pretty, perfect Steve whimpers and leans into Eddie's hold. Beneath his rough hand, he feels the submissive man swallow and it goes straight to his head. Were all Eddie’s dreams really about to come true?
“We,” Steve gulps again. “We uh, wanted you to come along because we. Like. You.”
Just then, you made a right hand turn onto a dirt path that took the trio further into the trees, hidden from all the rest of the world. Eddie nodded his head but it wasn’t enough. He pulled the cowering man into his side by the waist and leaned so close to his face that their lips almost touched. Steve’s eyelids fluttered, his body finally beginning to relax as he realized he wasn’t going to ruin his friendship.
“I want to hear you say it,” Eddie purrs, and stops you from doing it for him. “I need to hear him say it. Come on, pretty boy, let me hear those magic words and everything you want can be yours.”
“We want to fuck you…” he whispers and brushes his slender lips against Eddie’s, begging. “Y-you don’t have to do anything you don't want to, just… we want you to be with us on another level."
Eddie squeezes Steve's hip. "Now see I always hoped you'd be naked on your knees when you asked me to fuck you, Stevie, but this is good, too."
The brakes of the car whined as you slowed to a stop. You unbuckle yourself and turn to the sexually charged eye fuck fest going on in the passenger seat. You tap Eddie’s shoulder and he glares at you expectantly, while still holding your boyfriend hostage at his side.
“We’re here. Place is deserted but just to be safe, I’m going to check the perimeter so to speak. Why don’t you let my baby show you how he uses his mouth?”
Eddie smirks impishly at your suggestion. “What a killer idea!”
…
Well it’s a good thing this place really was abandoned because Eddie and Steve were loud as fuck. Or maybe they were doing it for your benefit. All in all, it feels good to hear your plan coming together so beautifully.
You trek back to the car where you left them and found Eddie holding Steve’s head and using your boyfriend’s throat to fuck himself. It made your heart beat harder and you stumbled a bit over a rock– Steve was new to all this, you’ve never been so rough with him before this way. But all the tension in your body eases the minute Eddie spots you and releases Steve with a devilish grin. He even holds Steve’s head back and turns his chin so you can see the blissful, drunk state he was in.
“Baby’s doing so well!,” he shouts his praise as you neared the still open car door. “I see you taught him a few tricks, and they were cute, but I’m showing him what he can really do.”
Steve coughs and your eyes fall back to the slobbery, flushed cock he was just choking on. You feel Eddie’s hands creeping up your thigh and try to find a few words to say that would clue him into your preferred role. Suddenly, he smacks your ass and makes a lewd comment about bending you over the hood.
You act fast, closing your hand around his throat and leaning in so close that your noses brush. “Ah, ah, Daddy. Be careful who you’re manhandling, because one of us bites.”
Eddie’s brown eyes glisten with mischief and he parts his pillowy lips, asking permission for a kiss. You dig your teeth into his plump bottom one and soothe the sting with a gentle lick before forcing his mouth open and shoving your way inside. Eddie accepts, meanwhile Steve works hand and tongue over Eddie's thick, veiny muscle and watches reverently.
After a breathless minute, Eddie has to shove you away and directs your hand to tangle into Steve’s hair together. “OK, Baby. Show Mommy how you get the cream out. And make sure you don’t swallow.”
Confused, you look at Eddie who simply smiles, then Steve’s back to work bobbing his head and reaching down to fondle the nest of black hair covering his tightening sack. Eddie’s little gasps are quieter than before, he doesn’t need to show off or project now that you’re right here in each other’s ears. He must have been edging himself because it doesn’t take long before he tenses up and Steve stops bobbing to hold the spitting head in his mouth.
Your throat goes dry at the sight of the throbbing, twitching thing pumping what seemed like gallons of cum out, so much that Steve chokes and some dribbles out despite his best efforts. You pet Eddie’s damp curls off of his forehead and hum in praise. He must have been saving it all up for a while.
Steve pulls off with puffed cheeks and you try to climb into the car, only to find yourself shrieking as Eddie grabs you and throws you over his exposed lap. His softening cock leaves a slimy wet trail on your lower belly and you fight to get back up, only to be trapped in submission by a strong hand at your throat and a warning slap on your thigh. Somehow he’s got you flipped around– head hanging out of the vehicle where you were just standing and back vulnerable. You can feel the outer seam of Steve’s jeans on your inner thigh.
“Eddie! Hey!”
You can’t do much to stop him as he throws up your dress and rips your underwear down to your knees, stretching them to the point of ruin. Steve can’t do anything but mutter in alarm and shrug indecisively behind your head. Eddie lands a harsh smack to your bare backside and delights in the wondrous jiggle of your flesh. He turns to Steve and asks, “still got your mouthful? Good.”
His next command sends a jolt of electricity to your core and shocks you into silence. “Let Mommy feel what a good mess you made then.”
You wait with baited breath wondering what the hell they were going to do next when you feel two warm, familiar hands caressing their way up your hips. Your whole body shivers in surprise when you feel a mixture of saliva and cum spilling over your ass and pouring down the arch of your spine, then trailing back and slipping down the crevice of your intimate parts.
Steve’s gentle hand comes between your legs and his fingers start to massage the mess over your throbbing clit in tight circles. Your head bows and pussy drips, adding to the mixture your own feral juices. Sex has never been this intimate before.
Eddie hums his approval. “Good boy. Now I have another job for you. It’s gonna be hard work, but I promise we’ll make it worth your while in the end. You ready, baby?”
Steve nods his head enthusiastically.
…
Total bullshit, that’s what this was. An undeserved punishment, Steve felt, and after all the good work he did earlier? It was unfair.
“Keep going, Baby! You’re halfway there!”
Steve bites his tongue to stop from yelling at Eddie to shut up. The smarmy bastard had you laid out on a picnic blanket and was fucking you raw, speeding up when ever he felt you get close to coming and slowing down everytime he came close to coming. You were a blubbering, shaking mess under the evil metalhead, and if Steve was counting right, on your way to a second screaming orgasm. Eddie switched positions whenever he felt like it, careful not to break you and keep you just on the edge of overstimulation at all times and making Steve watch. It looked exhausting.
“Tent’s not gonna build itself, buttercup,” Eddie laughed and slowed down his thrusts once again leaning down to whisper sweetly at you. “How are we doing, Mommy, huh? How many petit la morts do we have including all the little tiny ones?”
Tears stream down your face but you haven’t given your safeword yet. “S…seven. I-I think. Two big ones…”
“Two big–” Eddie sits up and starts to pound into you roughly. Your moans reach a fever pitch and you scream, convulsing again under his watch and he pulls out to finger you gently down from your high. “There, now it’s three.”
Steve has already sweated through his shirt and discarded his belt a long time ago. He won’t take his pants off for fear of breaking your one rule– coming without permission. It was getting tough to see through the haze of lust clouding his mind and fury that the tent poles he has left won’t go together like they’re supposed to.
“Mommy says you’ve got them backwards,” Eddie yells. He’s flipping you back onto your stomach and letting you rest. He hasn’t come since earlier in the car and Steve has gotten to come once. He’s being patronizing on purpose as he says slowly, “flip. The one. In your right. Hand.”
Steve begrudgingly does as he’s told and what do you know? Click! He scrambles to slide the canvas over the metal frame and finish setting up, shucking his shirt and glaring against the mid-evening sun as it dips behind the trees. He comes back to find Eddie gently cradling your limp body in his arms like one of those religious marble sculptures you studied in school.
Steve stands nervously as he takes off his pants, shoes, socks, and boxers, keeping an eye on you. “Are you sure she’s ok?”
In answer, you open your eyes and give him a weak thumbs up. He at least knows what you are feeling right now– worn and drained but torn between wanting to please the other and continue or call it quits. Steve himself has been scolded by you on more than one occasion not to overextend himself. He’s never seen before the limits of how much you can take.
“Ok. I’m done.” Steve kneels carefully on the blanket and waits, his neglected cock standing proud and tall before him. Eddie’s eyes roam over his naked body appreciatively. “What’s next?”
Eddie hugs you close to his chest like he hadn’t spent an hour fucking the life out of you. He’s sore too, but he hides it well. “I think you deserve a reward. Something good that you’ve never been given before. Something having one partner can’t quite accomplish on their own.”
Some type of discussion or understanding must have happened earlier while Steve was unaware, because at that moment, you shift yourself and need no verbal instruction from Eddie on how to move. Steve watches rapturously as you both sit up and Eddie shoves his cock into you (with a slightly pained grunt and a gasp from both of you), then he hooks his arms under your knees and lifts you into an unusual and open position.
Only then does Steve realize it’s not your abused pussy that’s stuffed right now.
“I-I… y-you…”
Eddie grunts. “Come help me fuck your Mommy, babe. She could use a couple of nice warm loads in her holes, don’t you agree?”
Hesitantly, Steve crawls over, watching you both tumble onto your backs and hold your hands out to him. Eddie’s cock is naturally thick, it’s a wonder you didn’t call a timeout already. Eddie’s endless patience wears off and he yanks Steve over you, rocking his hips so he’s fucking your rarely used hole. Steve watches again, entranced by the way Eddie's fills you from this close up position he’s never been able to see.
“I-I don’t understand what you want me to do…?”
Your hands cradle his face sweetly. “Sweetie? Fuck me.” Panic flashes in his eyes that you try to soothe. “I can take it. I can take you both. You’ll fit, I promise.”
“All you need to do is come,” you coo and guide his lips to yours.
Finally, Steve grasps the root of his shaft and brushes his tip on your sex. You hiss through your teeth and clamp down hard, causing Eddie to groan as you squeeze him tight. Steve doubles back and finds the little bottle of lube he’s been hiding in his pocket since the trip started and works it as much as he can over his shaft, which twitches with his touch.
“Come on Stevie,” Eddie moans, “Mommy’s waiting for you.”
Steve shifts your legs into a better position to take him so you won’t be so tight around your entrance. He lines himself up and pushes, wincing as your sore parts flutter and spasm and squeeze around his initial breech. He pushes in as deep as he’ll go and sighs, surprised at a strange tingly feeling he gets thanks to an unusual pressure.
“What… what the hell is that?”
Eddie grins and turns your fucked out face to his. “Do you wanna tell him, or should I?”
Steve can’t help but thrust shallowly, so desperate to finish after being forced to hold back for so long. The tingling in his gut gets stronger, like touching himself for the first time ever. His mouth gapes open as your sleepy eyes find his and let him use your body for his pleasure.
“That’s Eddie, Baby.”
He doesn’t understand until he does. Eddie had held perfectly still while Steve inserted himself, but now that he’s caught onto Steve’s rhythm, he starts to move perfectly off beat, gliding in and out of your holes like the the up beats in four-four time. And Steve feels something moving, something caressing his cock from tip to shaft with every down stroke, then back up with every pull out. That’s Eddie, baby, his brain echoes endlessly.
“Eddie, Eddie,” Steve’s brain starts to short circuit and his hips stutter, drool gathering on his lower lip and beginning to leak out. “Oh god, I can feel you, Eddie. I can feel you moving in her. Oh fuck, I didn’t know… I didn’t know you could take so much and feel so fucking good… oh fuck, I don’t wanna come– I don’t want this to end!”
“You have to come, Baby,” you plead. “You have to come inside me and fill me up.”
“Mommy needs a break, Baby boy,” Eddie adds, thrusting his hips faster. “She’s already taking so much that tomorrow, it’s just gonna be you and me and a bag of ice for her to sit on.”
Steve’s too far gone to laugh and feels his balls tightening painfully. He rests his head on your chest and feels you card your fingers through his hair, encouraging him to finish so you can all eat and get some much needed sleep. He hears Eddie whisper something in your ear and one of your hands trails down the curve of his spine, past dozens of adorable freckles and between the valley of his cheeks. You stuff two fingers in his hole and curl them like a hook as he suddenly cums hard.
“Atta boy, Harrington!” Eddie rocks his hips faster, pinned down by the combined weight of his lovers. “I’m gonna get you a fucking cigar for that one!”
As Steve’s cries die down, you feel Eddie’s shifting cock stop and fill you with more hot liquid. Your thighs are on fire from holding this position and you let Steve slide off to the side before rolling the other way off of Eddie, sprawling on your stomach and sighing at the feeling of cool air on your raw, chafed parts.
After a minute, Eddie’s arms wrap around the both of you and pulls you closer, but you’re all much too tired to do anything else. His thumb strokes over your sweaty foreheads and he chuckles into the fresh air as night begins to fall.
“I was being serious about that ice though, babe. Anybody want a snack?”
Previous | Masterlist | Next: Leonard Bast Spanking
This fic was rewritten and finished 10 minutes before I posted it so I am losing my mind
#three bees writing#kinktober 2022 challenge#tppkinktober2022#steve harrington x female reader x eddie munson#steve harrington smut#eddie munson smut#steddie smut#black reader insert#joe keery character fiction#joseph quinn character fiction
163 notes
·
View notes
Text
okay, guys, I need some help collaboration style! I want to get more comfortable writing SMUT. the way I've always gotten better at writing is by spitballing off others
PLEASE SEND CHARACTER THIRSTS OR SMUTTY THOUGHTS TO INBOX. I will try to use them as a diving board. LET'S IMPROVE!! LET'S IMPROVE
#bee talks#i have what THREE fwb jordan li posts to write?? i NEED to include smut in those its a NEED#or if youve got advice for writing smut send that too
9 notes
·
View notes
Note
Just reread the whole scs tag and now I want to see Three's first meeting with Etho (Iirc the clip of Grian being scared of Etho sneaking around and then seeming to teleport outside the ice shop is Grian's first meeting with Etho? (And it was season 7.) And I think the "two nervous animals stare at each other" vibes could fit.)
Three is nervous.
It has heard of Etho before. Etho is very high on the threat rankings it had memorized; Etho is considered more of a threat than is currently worth taking out; Etho is, apparently, a legend even around Players who do not understand quite how much of a threat he is. There are standing orders and plans still programmed into Three on how to take him out in a way that would not make a martyr of him. Three thinks many of these plans are stupid.
Three--
Three is nervous. It has heard of Etho before, and it does not know if Etho would have heard of a Blade before, or if any of that would get in the way of it conversing with Etho. Three is relatively confident it could beat Etho in a fight. For all Etho is a threat, he is merely a Player, and Three is a Blade. That had never been why Etho is a threat. That had...
Mumbo had promised Etho was not mean. Three had asked Mumbo what that had to do with anything. Mumbo had mumbled something about how, well, if Three was worried about Etho yelling at it, then Etho wouldn't. Etho would actually also worry, Mumbo assured Three. Etho seems cool at first, but he's actually kind of awkward, Mumbo assured Three.
Three had commented that 'seeming cool at first but actually being kind of awkward' is, apparently, a common problem. It can understand why.
None of that really solves why Three is nervous, but going over the ways Etho is a threat, and the plans it has to mitigate that threat is... nice. It should not use them, because Mumbo has promised that Hermitcraft is safe. Three finds it does not want to be the reason it is not safe. Three will not mitigate the threat of Etho. Three should not have to mitigate the threat of Etho.
Three is nervous because it wants something from Etho, and doesn't have anything to offer in return.
It stands in the jungle and waits. It sees Etho arrive, because it is watching for him, but Etho seems surprised, backing away nervously on seeing Three.
"Oh. Um. Hello there. You're Mumbo's scary friend. The new one he brought here. That one. That needed help? Um, I'm Etho."
"I know. Does Mumbo describe me as scary?"
"Not usually?" Etho says.
"Oh," Three says. It does not give away its disappointment. Etho is not a handler and not another Watcher, but it is best not to give away emotions like disappointment when it wants something from him anyway.
"Is there a reason you're, uh, lurking in my base?"
Three does not fidget. It is too well-trained to. "I am here to ask a favor."
"Shoot, uh, I guess I can hear it," Etho says.
"You are making your base out of interiors, you said, in the meeting," Three says. "I--I want. I want to do that. I want--I want you to show me how to do that." The words are harder to pull out of its mouth than it thought they would be. "I do not have much to offer you. I could take care of one of your enemies, but Mumbo says Hermitcraft is safe, and I do not know if I want to do that, I just know that I want..."
Three trails off.
"Apologies. I am unclear. Will clarify," Three says.
Asking for things it wants is--hard. It's still hard. It is not good at reporting on what it wants. Etho is staring at it. Three stands perfectly still, because it is well-trained.
"Most builders aren't a big fan of interiors," Etho says slowly, "let alone a base entirely out of them. That's, uh, a big favor you're asking. Can I ask why?"
Beneath the mask, Three opens its mouth. It closes it again. It does not know how to say: because I am the thing that replaced someone who built big empty shells. Because I filled one of those empty shells. Because I could have been one of those empty shells. Because I do not want to leave behind empty shells. Because if I am gone, I want the things to leave to be knit socks and cozy rooms and laughter, not a big empty temple with a farm in the middle. Because I am Three, and I am a person, and I want the world to remember that.
What Three says instead is: "I can pay you back. I am useful."
Etho looks at Three. He rubs the back of his head. "You know, normally no one is dumb enough to give me an IOU this early in the season?" He laughs almost nervously. "Sure, man, I can teach you to make a base out of interiors. Why not."
"Thank you," Three says, and its shoulders do not slump, because it is well-trained.
"No problem. Say, what do you think about pranks?"
"I would like to learn to do those too," Three says promptly.
Etho also wears a mask. This does not stop Three from being able to tell the man is smirking.
"You know what? We're gonna get along just fine," he says. Strangely, Three believes him.
#answered#eloquentornot#solving counting sheep talk#a bee fic#SURPRISE. this is now the 'i write about three' ask game.#because i'm in a MOOD now let's WRITE SOME MORE OF MY CREATURE I MISSED IT......#anyway this is WILDLY different than you prompted me towards but I have Thoughts about how three and etho would meet#solving counting sheep spoilers#because THIS ONE relies VERY HEAVILY on certain characterization choices from the latter half of scs.#anyway note that three is still not NEARLY as self-assured as in the fake dating one!#this is three GENUINELY nervous and usure what's happening in a situation#whereas the fake dating one is a little more 'three is not bothering with social graces at least in part to fuck with martyn'#and i hope that comes through#anyway. SCS HUH.
136 notes
·
View notes
Text
A.U.gust 2023 | DAY TWENTY-THREE – Pirate
thanks to @gallavichthings for hosting! 🥳
Mikhailo first saw the ship when he was a child. He was drawn to its brightly colored flag, and the way the vessel seemed to appear on the coastline, then disappear, like a mirage in the desert.
Years later, knowing full well what that flag signaled to fellow sailors, Mikahilo sought refuge there. Worked hard on the deck, and tried to keep his eyes from getting caught on the ship’s captain.
Until one night, one storm:
“I don’t make a habit of bedding my men,” Captain Gallagher growled.
Mikahilo untied his trousers. “Fine by me. I don’t like to share.”
#BE GAY DO CRIME#i really didn't think i'd have anything for pirate day but HERE IT IS#lmaooo#what am i gonna do when this month is over?!#a.u.gust 2023#day twenty-three#pirate#shameless#shameless fanfiction#ian x mickey#bee writes 🐝 ✍🏻
47 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
ryuuka-balaen
Whale?girl Hobbying
magiccherry09
MagicCherry🍒
caffeine-on
Caffeineon
runawaycarouselhorse
🇵🇸🕊️with hearts like birds
videogameninjas
Video Game Niñjas