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A/N: Requested by an anonymous user. Hopefully I did you justice 🩷
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Summary: Giving your boyfriend Eddie the after-sex emotional intimacy that he craves.
Content Warning: 18+ Smut, Unprotected Sex (P in V), Cockwarming, Sexual Language, Swearing/Profanity.
Credits: @cafekitsune for the dividers
────────
“Holy shiiiit, you’re unreal! Fuck! Oh fuck!”
Your boyfriend pants in your ear as he nears his high, thrusting into you as deep as he could go.
“You feel so- god, oh my god! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Just like that! Hoooooly mother of god!”
“You okay?” You moan underneath him, out of breath and wrecked as you watched him fall apart above you.
“M’good! So good, baby….So fucking good. This feels so nice.” He whimpers “Being inside you like this…”
“Yeah?” You squeak as he hits a spot deep inside of you that had your toes curling.
“Fuck yes….so wet…and tight and perfect. God, baby, you’re perfect. So fucking perfect….all for me. Mine. My girl…”
“Yours.” You whisper, kissing his neck as he lets out a gasp.
“Hah! Fuck! Y-you…oh god! You’re…squeezing’ me…so good. So fucking good! Are you close, sweetheart? Tell me you’re close. Please tell me you’re close!” He pleads.
“M’almost there, Eds.” You moan, gripping tightly onto his biceps as he keeps fucking into you “Just keep going, baby. Don’t stop.”
“No, no, no. Not gonna stop…I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve fucking got you. Shit….just give it to me, yeah? Please? God, please, angel. I need you to cum. Need you to give it to me.”
“Eddie…” You whine.
“Fuck, baby! You’re squeezing me so good….you gonna cum? Yeah? You gonna cum for me? Please fucking cum for me, angel.”
He slams into you relentlessly, reaching down between the two of you to rub hurried circles on your clit.
“Eddie!”
“Fuck, baby, you’re so close. I can feel it. Come on, sweetheart, fucking cum for me. Need to feel you cum on my cock.”
It hit you faster than you expected, your orgasm peaking with a high pitched gasp that had Eddie tumbling right after you.
“Oh my god, sweetheart! Atta girl!” He groans “I’m so close, baby. Gonna fucking cum. Gonna- oh shit!”
Eddie grasps your hand, squeezing it as he released inside of you- filling you up as he panted and whimpering above you. His arms give out, sending him collapsing on top of you as he tries to catch his breath.
“Fuck…” He laughs, gasping for air “That was…god, you’re amazing.”
He presses featherlight kisses to your forehead, your temples, your cheeks.
“I love you.” He whispers “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” You say, looking up at him as he looms over you- the ends of his curly tresses brushing against your face. You reach up, grabbing his necklace as you absentmindedly turn it over between your fingers.
Eddie just stares down at you. Admiring. Watching.
Fuck, you were so beautiful.
“You okay?” You ask, noticing that he hadn’t yet pulled out and rolled over onto the mattress beside you like he normally did.
“Yeah.” He says, clearing his throat “I just…can I just stay here like this? Just for a little longer?”
You watch as he looks down at your tangled up bodies, his eyes staring at where you met.
“What do you mean? Like-“
“Inside you.” He admits “Just like this. I just want to stay here with me inside you. Is that okay?”
“Sure.” You nod, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his eyes “Okay.”
“I just….I love being inside of you. Even after we have sex. I love how warm you feel….and wet. I…okay, you’re going to think I’m a total weirdo creep when I say this.”
“Yeah? What else is new?” You joke, causing Eddie to playfully tap you on the arm.
“Stop it.” He says “I’m being serious here. I…I love being inside of you. It’s my favorite place. I know that sounds crazy but I feel safe. Right here like this…with you. You make me feel safe.”
The words that left his lips had made you feel tingly inside. Good. Loved.
“You feel safe with me?” You ask, looking into his brown doe eyes.
“Yeah, I do.” He sighs “But especially like this. I could stay like this forever. Knowing that this is the closest that I’ll ever be to you.”
“Okay, that’s actually really sweet.” You murmur.
“Can I ask you for something else? Without you judging me?” Eddie asks, his voice coming out small.
“Of course.” You say, threading your fingers through his hair.
“Can you…can you hold me, please? Would that be weird? If that’s too weird-“
“Come here.” You whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down to you- allowing him to lay on top of you fully as he buries his face in your neck. He inhales your scent, smiling into your hair as he closes his eyes.
You smelled like home.
You felt like warmth.
You were safety.
“This good?” You ask.
Eddie nods his head against your neck, wrapping his arms around you so that you were pressed tightly against him.
“This is perfect.” He mutters.
Home.
Warmth.
Safety.
You.
“I can feel your heart beating.” He whispers as you run your fingers down his back soothingly, sending a shiver down his body.
Your touch. Your body. Your heartbeat.
You were so close. He wanted nothing more than this. To be completely wrapped up in you.
“I don’t want to be anywhere else but here.” He says, mumbling against your neck “With you.”
He pulls away for a second, taking you aback as he reaches for one of your hands- gently placing it over his heart.
“Do you feel how crazy you make me?” He asks, looking down at you as you felt his heart race beneath your touch “That’s what you do to me, sweetheart. No one else. You. I love you. I love you until my heart stops beating, you understand?”
“I love you too, Eddie.” You proclaim “More than anything.”
“Good.” He smiles, nuzzling his nose against your cheek “Because you’re stuck with me. Forever. Just like this.”
And you couldn’t imagine wanting to be with anyone else but Eddie. Forever.
A/N: Requested by an anonymous user. Hopefully I did you justice 🩷
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Summary: Giving your boyfriend Eddie the after-sex emotional intimacy that he craves.
Content Warning: 18+ Smut, Unprotected Sex (P in V), Cockwarming, Sexual Language, Swearing/Profanity.
Credits: @cafekitsune for the dividers
────────
“Holy shiiiit, you’re unreal! Fuck! Oh fuck!”
Your boyfriend pants in your ear as he nears his high, thrusting into you as deep as he could go.
“You feel so- god, oh my god! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Just like that! Hoooooly mother of god!”
“You okay?” You moan underneath him, out of breath and wrecked as you watched him fall apart above you.
“M’good! So good, baby….So fucking good. This feels so nice.” He whimpers “Being inside you like this…”
“Yeah?” You squeak as he hits a spot deep inside of you that had your toes curling.
“Fuck yes….so wet…and tight and perfect. God, baby, you’re perfect. So fucking perfect….all for me. Mine. My girl…”
“Yours.” You whisper, kissing his neck as he lets out a gasp.
“Hah! Fuck! Y-you…oh god! You’re…squeezing’ me…so good. So fucking good! Are you close, sweetheart? Tell me you’re close. Please tell me you’re close!” He pleads.
“M’almost there, Eds.” You moan, gripping tightly onto his biceps as he keeps fucking into you “Just keep going, baby. Don’t stop.”
“No, no, no. Not gonna stop…I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve fucking got you. Shit….just give it to me, yeah? Please? God, please, angel. I need you to cum. Need you to give it to me.”
“Eddie…” You whine.
“Fuck, baby! You’re squeezing me so good….you gonna cum? Yeah? You gonna cum for me? Please fucking cum for me, angel.”
He slams into you relentlessly, reaching down between the two of you to rub hurried circles on your clit.
“Eddie!”
“Fuck, baby, you’re so close. I can feel it. Come on, sweetheart, fucking cum for me. Need to feel you cum on my cock.”
It hit you faster than you expected, your orgasm peaking with a high pitched gasp that had Eddie tumbling right after you.
“Oh my god, sweetheart! Atta girl!” He groans “I’m so close, baby. Gonna fucking cum. Gonna- oh shit!”
Eddie grasps your hand, squeezing it as he released inside of you- filling you up as he panted and whimpering above you. His arms give out, sending him collapsing on top of you as he tries to catch his breath.
“Fuck…” He laughs, gasping for air “That was…god, you’re amazing.”
He presses featherlight kisses to your forehead, your temples, your cheeks.
“I love you.” He whispers “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” You say, looking up at him as he looms over you- the ends of his curly tresses brushing against your face. You reach up, grabbing his necklace as you absentmindedly turn it over between your fingers.
Eddie just stares down at you. Admiring. Watching.
Fuck, you were so beautiful.
“You okay?” You ask, noticing that he hadn’t yet pulled out and rolled over onto the mattress beside you like he normally did.
“Yeah.” He says, clearing his throat “I just…can I just stay here like this? Just for a little longer?”
You watch as he looks down at your tangled up bodies, his eyes staring at where you met.
“What do you mean? Like-“
“Inside you.” He admits “Just like this. I just want to stay here with me inside you. Is that okay?”
“Sure.” You nod, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his eyes “Okay.”
“I just….I love being inside of you. Even after we have sex. I love how warm you feel….and wet. I…okay, you’re going to think I’m a total weirdo creep when I say this.”
“Yeah? What else is new?” You joke, causing Eddie to playfully tap you on the arm.
“Stop it.” He says “I’m being serious here. I…I love being inside of you. It’s my favorite place. I know that sounds crazy but I feel safe. Right here like this…with you. You make me feel safe.”
The words that left his lips had made you feel tingly inside. Good. Loved.
“You feel safe with me?” You ask, looking into his brown doe eyes.
“Yeah, I do.” He sighs “But especially like this. I could stay like this forever. Knowing that this is the closest that I’ll ever be to you.”
“Okay, that’s actually really sweet.” You murmur.
“Can I ask you for something else? Without you judging me?” Eddie asks, his voice coming out small.
“Of course.” You say, threading your fingers through his hair.
“Can you…can you hold me, please? Would that be weird? If that’s too weird-“
“Come here.” You whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down to you- allowing him to lay on top of you fully as he buries his face in your neck. He inhales your scent, smiling into your hair as he closes his eyes.
You smelled like home.
You felt like warmth.
You were safety.
“This good?” You ask.
Eddie nods his head against your neck, wrapping his arms around you so that you were pressed tightly against him.
“This is perfect.” He mutters.
Home.
Warmth.
Safety.
You.
“I can feel your heart beating.” He whispers as you run your fingers down his back soothingly, sending a shiver down his body.
Your touch. Your body. Your heartbeat.
You were so close. He wanted nothing more than this. To be completely wrapped up in you.
“I don’t want to be anywhere else but here.” He says, mumbling against your neck “With you.”
He pulls away for a second, taking you aback as he reaches for one of your hands- gently placing it over his heart.
“Do you feel how crazy you make me?” He asks, looking down at you as you felt his heart race beneath your touch “That’s what you do to me, sweetheart. No one else. You. I love you. I love you until my heart stops beating, you understand?”
“I love you too, Eddie.” You proclaim “More than anything.”
“Good.” He smiles, nuzzling his nose against your cheek “Because you’re stuck with me. Forever. Just like this.”
And you couldn’t imagine wanting to be with anyone else but Eddie. Forever.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Lakeside Eddie commission (@fracturedarkness) inspired by the fic Hot & Cold by @somnambulic-thing from their Come As You Are universe
I spent a long time staring at this one. Not because I didn’t know what to paint, but because I wanted to do justice to the feeling somna’s fics leave behind. Landscapes aren’t something I tackle often, and that uncertainty followed me through every step of this piece. But some stories inspire you to reach beyond what feels comfortable.
This fic is part of my come as you are universe but can be read as a standalone.
Series Masterlist
hot & cold
Eddie Munson x gn!reader with boobs&vagina | we're mid/late 20s, 18+
Words: 1.8k
Summary: Eddie and you are on a little vancation to sweetly waste some summer days together.
Content: fluff, established relationship, van camping, silliness, banter, spoiling that little shit, sensual scratching, this is all basically just foreplay in my book, allusions to sex, silly nicknames for people and body parts :3
A/N: Thank you to @writinginthetwilight @bettyfrommars and @jo-harrington for their ears, hearts and shoulders.
And suddenly, it looks like rain.
Smells like it too; slightly sweet yet sharp and a little dusty. You welcome the scent, lift your nose to the grey-purple sky and fill your chest with it and then you hold, hold, hold before you let it go again. The sigh you make even, in a way, sounds like rain, like melancholy and solace.
You want to be with Eddie when the rain starts.
So you leave the small store behind, equipped with two popsicles tucked between your knuckles; a cold surprise for a fiery fiend on a smoldering day.
Down the narrow set of concrete steps, soaked so full of sun you feel the heat waver around your calves as you ascend. The camping ground is a ring hugging a large lake with a small island not quite in the middle of it, but a little offset to the east. There is one main path, paved in sandstone, that eats its tail right at the foot of those stairs and you follow it past tents and motor homes of all shapes and sizes.
Not twenty minutes ago, when you had left Eddie and the van behind to use the restroom, the sky had been nothing but endless, mindless blue and the whole place had been brimming with people; bathing in the sun and water, old folks playing cards and young folks tricks on each other. But as fast as the clouds had crowded in, they had fled, no, deserted the place as if it was about to rain steak knives and rattle snakes.
The path carries you past the mini golf course. It’s an ancient thing, all chipped paint and wonky surfaces, decorated with large, wooden sculptures of animals so bizarre they elude classification and you think back to the night before. Hushed voices and conspiratorial giggles as Eddie climbed the horse-crow-beaver, a bit tipsy a bit tired but determined to take you for a ride on this monstrosity while the camp was fast asleep.
You both agreed it was not the weirdest place you had made each other come undone, but one of the more dangerous, probably, as balance seemed to succumb to ecstasy.
Thunder rumbles calmly across the sky and you continue your way across the lawn.
Almost there now.
The van is tucked away against a small thicket of bushes and fragrant trees in bloom close to the lake shore. It’s the perfect spot, really, catching shade from the trees when the sun is a at its peak and secluded enough that even with neighboring tents, nobody ever passes by.
The back doors are open wide, the folding chairs in front of them empty and so you slip around and find Eddie in bed, flat on his stomach, feet dangling just off the edge of the mattress, his arms folded beneath his head. He’s naked and still damp from the lake, or maybe it’s a fresh sheen of sweat; it’s hard to tell.
You take off your shoes, laces loose enough to just slip out, and shove them into the wine crate turned shoe rack-bedside table combination.
“At long last,” he nearly yawns, yet doesn’t move a muscle. “What took thee so long?”
He’s different shades of Eddie everywhere, separated by a harsh tan line where the hem of his swim shorts sits low on his hips and more of a gradient along his thighs. You can’t see it well from outside but you know his shoulders are pink and his nose is probably too.
He somehow always forgets his nose.
“The good porcelain was in high demand,” you say and smile, slowly bringing the icy treats close to the soles of his feet, ready to strike. “Also took a little detour.”
“Adventures? Without me?— haaa,” he squeaks and jolts, pulls his feet away and throws a look over his shoulder that speaks of betrayal, considers revenge.
Again, thunder rumbles.
And you hurry inside, crawl in besides him while his eyes follow you, sleepy and soft but oh so watchful.
“Whatcha got there, Poltergeist?” he asks, turns on his side as you come to sit and looks up at you clearly still indecisive of your fate. His hair is dry and frizzy on top and the tips are still damp. His nose is pink.
“Something cold,” you grin and his eyebrows jump up his forehead.
“No shit.”
Straining against a wild laugh you finally hold a popsicle out to him, “I brought you cherry.”
He stares at you. That stare that lives right between saint and serial killer and it tingles on your face, more and more and more like you’re covered in ants and you’re about to tackle him to make him stop when he grins; dimples and teeth and crows feet and you still want to tackle him, but very differently.
“Hmm, my favorite,” he coos, snatches the thing from you and places his hand over his heart. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
It comes without warning this time, makes you both jump, a crash like all the china cabinets in the world just exploded. When it’s over, the quiet seems absolute. Then the rain starts pouring.
“Woah,” Eddie says, frozen in the middle of tearing open the wrapper. “Felt that in my bones.”
You had felt it too.
And as the feeling fades out the noise of the rain swells and swells a little more until it’s a consistent murmur engulfing your small world. Some fat stray drops hit the roof harder, like a weak signal in the static. You unwrap your treat and push yourself back to the top of the mattress, dropping your head against the back of the seat behind you.
The first lick is messy; an effort to stop drips of molten sugar water from getting on your fingers that’s not fully successful. It’s so sweet, it’s an instant rush and the artificial flavor is so strange that you become unsure what kind you’d even picked at the store.
“That’s…” Eddie says, smacking his lips.
“Odd?” you supply. “Alien?”
He pops the tip in his mouth, suckles, then you hear a soft, moist crunch and he’s chewing a chunk, looking back at you with on eye squinting and the other in wide wonder.
“Was thinking, like, something more around, uh… perverse?”
Nodding, you have another thorough lick while more thunder rumbles. “So you love it.”
Already chewing a new chunk he grins from ear to ear, eyes black and tongue an alarming shade of magenta. “Oh, hell yeah!”
You reach out and cup his cheek, caress it with your thumb. “Your stupid face,” you say softly as he nuzzles into your hand, his lips a sticky kiss on your palm.
“You love it,” he says.
“Oh, hell yeah.”
He laughs that smooth, rich sound that comes from deep in his throat. Shuffling closer, he turns on his back, placing his head in your lap. You sink your hand into his hair, gently rake your nails across his scalp and smile when he purrs and wiggles and curls his toes when you hit the very good spots. Silently, you watch the rain together. It’s a thick, hazy curtain in front of the world, tinting it slightly blue and everything it hits much, much darker. The air is calm, yet the surface of the lake ripples and shudders; an empty boat rocks along, drifting further out towards the small island.
Eddie offers you the last bit of his abominable cherry and you let him finish the rest of your mystery flavor. He suggests watermelon and kitchen gloves as he sucks the stick clean and you don’t contest this assessment.
“Fuuuck,” he suddenly groans, rubbing a hand across his chest. “This… is nice. T’s finally cooling down.”
There is sweat on your forehead and upper lip - and really everywhere - that disagrees. “Don’t know about that…”
Tilting back his head and baring neck doing so, he looks up at you. “What,” he crosses his arms over his chest and shivers, head to toe, rubbing his upper arms to go with it, “you don’t feel that breeze back there?”
You snort, shake your head. “Well acted, Mun—“
“Nuh-uh,” he protests, wiggles one index finger into your face and with the other, he points to his crotch. “Mr Dick ain’t lying.”
And sure enough, nestled inside dark curls like a small, naked creature fleeing a storm, the evidence undeniable. You smile down at Eddie giddily looking up at you and awaiting response to his silly joke and rake your nails along the sides of his throat, leaving faint marks behind. ”Want a sock for him?”
“Nah,” he chuckles, then groans and his eyes roll before he closes them. “Mr Dick likes the v-view.”
“M’ sure I can find a sock with holes in it— wha—“ fumbly fingers roughly poke your lips and nostrils—
“Shit, sorry,” he laughs, eyes open again but heavy lidded, and re-aims, slides his hand gently along your cheek and to the nape of your neck. “You disrupted some critical functions there for a moment.”
“Want me to do it again?”
“Aye, please…”
Starting right above the dip of his collar bones, you move slower this time, savoring him and his delight. The motion below his skin; tendons twitching, pulse racing and the ripple of a swallowed groan as you inch closer to the edge of his jaw. Lips parted, wet and still tinted a little too pink he digs his skull into your thigh when he tilts his head back further, digs his nails into your neck as he holds on tighter, bracing himself before you—
“Fuck—“
— move back down again and his chest expands on a sigh, deflates on a moan and hitches when your fingers don’t stop at the base of his throat but venture further down down down across hot skin covered in ink and blush and hair. It’s magic how pale trails of friction turn dark and small gasps leave his shiny mouth when you graze one nipple, then the other.
He lets go of your neck, both arms flailing briefly as he reaches behind to grasp your hips, kneading your flesh as you draw wavy patterns across his ribs and back up again. Down below in the thick patch of hair, where your arms won’t quite reach, something stirs, grows, hardens.
When he’s covered in lines from chin to navel you switch nails for fingertips to soothe.
He’s so pretty when he’s a mess; you want to join him.
“Ed, is Mr Dick still cold?”
He lolls his head in your lap, eyes closed and mumbling just short of incomprehensible, “Why? Got a lil’ coat for him or somth’n?”
“Right,” you snort and mumble to yourself, “critical functions turned off…”
Calling his name again, you cradle his face, meeting his eyes as he opens them. His gaze is hazy and soft and he blinks at you like he’s surprised to see you, then breaks into a smile so disarmingly sweet it’s hard to breathe for a moment.
“You think they make top hats his size?”
“Edward.”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“How about a vagina?”
He’s quick; up, around and on his knees, chuckling darkly as you yelp in surprise when he pulls you down the mattress by your ankles. “Oh, he’s freezing,” he says and spreads them apart.
Summary: You’ve been silently in love with Eddie for years and he’s leaving Hawkins soon. You want one kiss before he does. He gives you more than that.
||no upside-down, angst, fluff, first times, grief, open end, reader has regrets, coming of age (everybody is over 18 though), smut, piv penetration, oral for everybody, lovemarks/bruises, rough sex, sex in public places||
A/N: I hurt myself with this one, but growing pain is what it is. If you like and enjoy this little story, let me know. I’d love to hear from you.
It had been dry the past few weeks. So dry that your feet are kicking up small clouds of dirt where the paved roads of Forest Hills trailer park turn into gravelled paths, making your throat itchy and the inside of your mouth feel just as dry.
You’ve been to the trailer park before but never figured out which trailer was home to Eddie Munson. Had, in fact, avoided finding out. You have a rule when it comes to Eddie and you are about to break it.
The rule was simple enough: Don’t.
Don’t get too close.
Don’t get lost in those eyes, that wit, that kaleidoscope mind.
Don’t let him get too close.
Don’t.
He had been a Senior and you a Sophomore when you created that rule, your crush at first nothing more than a light tickling on the back of your neck and some innocent thoughts about a kiss from those ever-smirking lips. He’d been prickly, snapped at you more than once when he caught you casting not-so-secret glances across hallways until one day, he didn’t. Until one day, he said hi.
And then he had been a Senior and you a Junior and he had given you a ride home, picking you off the street with sweet words and gentle hands after your bike betrayed you and the asphalt scraped the skin off your knees and palm. He walked you to your door to make sure you wouldn’t faint or something even though you clearly felt alright, insisting on taking care of your bike.
“I know what I’m doing. That way I’m sure it won’t give up on you again. Don’t want this to keep me up at night.”
His graduation had been only a few months away that day - or so you‘d thought - and as he stood there, so close, smiling at you, arms crossed over his chest and unable to stand still your whole body had screamed Don’t. He’ll be gone and it will rip you apart.
And then he had been a Senior and so had you and Eddie slipped you pieces of paper during class; little silly drawings to make you smile on days you didn’t feel like it. He held doors for you when you were still half a hallway away and remembered your birthday without you ever telling him the date, singing for you in the school parking lot.
Despite your best efforts to stay away, there had been many and many small moments that had felt like lurking avalanches - a few close calls - but one way or the other, you had walked away unscathed. Right?
You had both graduated three days ago.
Eddie had walked the stage, snatched his diploma and raised two of the happiest middle fingers you had ever seen into the air and bolted like the devil was behind him. You wanted to kiss him. Kiss him so badly. While you still could.
But you didn’t.
Eddie would leave Hawkins soon. He’d found a spot as a roadie, hoisting equipment for a thrash metal band. “Not even a bad one,” he had smirked, radiating excitement. You remember the afternoon he told you about it with painful clarity. He was going to make connections, be a good sport, flex his skills on the guitar whenever an opportunity revealed itself. He had a whole plan.
Eddie would leave soon and you would go to college and so you had said so long tohim with a straight face that felt like it was on fire and that finally was the end of your ordeal. Right?
You already miss him.
So now you’re at the trailer park and your mouth is dry and no matter how much you tell yourself it’s just the dust or the unusual heat or the fact that you had walked here for almost an hour without so much as a sip of water, you knew the real reason was Eddie.
You spot his van first.
And then you spot him. Stretching out on his back on the floor of the small deck in front of the trailer. One arm under his head, his feet bopping to a tune in his mind, tendrils of smoke rising up from his face like ephemeral poems. Golden hour was only minutes away and already the sun tinted everything in this light that had the color of bittersweet memories.
You place your feet carefully, eager to stay unnoticed as long as you can, not ready to leave this limbo yet. He was just beautiful like this; even in inertia, Eddie was a wild thing.
He turns his head at last; you don’t stop, don’t falter even though inside of you everything screams Don’t.
You see him squint, the low and glaring sun behind you shrouding you just a little longer giving you a few more precious seconds to clear your mind, to prepare your words.
Except it doesn’t. He recognizes you anyway.
Over the distance, you hear your name spoken in that voice that had made you jump on your first day in High School; he’d been running late and barged into the wrong classroom. His hair had been shorter, sticking out in every direction like he was electric, made of storm. The voice is deeper now, rougher, but you would recognize it underwater. You hear it in your dreams.
“Hi, Eddie,” says your mouth while your mind says Don’t.
“You, uh, got lost or something?
“No,” you say and come to a halt. With you, you bring your shadow and you cast it over his face. His features relax, the squint disappears and you look down into pitch-black eyes. “I was looking for you.”
“For me?”
“For you.”
“You, like, wanna… buy something green or…?”
“For you.”
Where once sleeves had been on his shirt were now big holes reaching down to his waist, the fabric rolling in slightly at the raw edges where he’d cut along. You can see the pale skin spanning over his ribcage, can see the rise and fall, can see the ink.
Eddie looks at you in silence. You even like the way he doesn’t talk.
Don’t.
He starts to move, eyes fixed on you as he sits up, places his palms on the floor, rings click-clacking softly, cigarette butt coughing bitter tufts of smoke from between his fingers. He pushes himself around in one swift motion, crossing his legs, bare feet covered in dust, and faces you.
Your mouth is dry, is arid, is a desert.
“What do you mean for me?”
DON’T, it screams.
Ah, shut the fuck up, you answer.
“Have you ever heard of anticipatory grief?”
He blinks, fast, tilts his head, tilts the corners of his mouth down.
“Hmm, nope,” he shakes his head, “but I think I… get the gist. Why? You came to ask me this?”
“I came to kiss you.”
“What?”
“That is, if you want me to... To kiss you.”
The cigarette has snuffed out between his fingers and he throws it away into an unseen distance, his eyes searching your face for clues. You give him a smile.
“Are you for— for real?”
You nod.
“You’re not messing with me? Because that would be a fucked up thing to do.”
Your heart rushes the blood through your veins like a torrent, you feel it pool in your cheeks.
“Eddie,” you say the way you always wanted to. Soft and longing. “I had a crush on you for so long…” You close your eyes. “Years... Still have.”
“Shit! I… uh, shit.” You hear only crickets and a lawn mower in the distance and you wonder if he has vanished into thin air. “Could you, like, look at me?”
It takes effort, but you do.
“You… you never...”
“I know.”
“Why now? Why—“ You can see him think, putting crooked pieces together. “Anticipatory grief?”
“Fuck, you’re clever.”
His head draws back, his brows draw together; it looks like he’s drawing the wrong conclusion. “So you, what? Expected me to be an ass about it? To mess with you?”
“Not all that clever then,” you smirk and Eddie looks confused.
“Well, fuck you, milady,” he says with a tense smile and waves a hand through the air. You want to evaporate, flow through those fingers. “But you’re making no sense to me right now. Help me out?”
“You’re leaving soon.”
“Wait, wait, wait: you said years.”
A laugh is tickling you to let it out, you hold it back and sigh. “I thought for years you’d be leaving soon.”
“Shit,” he almost barks, fingers stilling an itch on his temple. Then he laughs and you do too.
You step closer, leaving only a few feet between you while the laughter is softly running out. And then he breathes in deep into his lungs; holds it holds it holds it. Oh to envy the air so much, it was embarrassing.
“Why now?”
“I don’t know—”
“Bullshit.”
“Eddie…”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
His chest expands again, you see him clenching his fists before he rests his hands on his thighs, ringed fingers splayed wide on black denim.
“Say my name like that—”
“I’m sorry—“
“Answer my question, sweetheart.”
“Don’t do that.”
It’s like a dance somehow, no, not quite, but you’re feeling out of breath and the rhythm is addictive.
“Answer my question…” and then he smiles, pulls his hands to his face, palms pressed together like in prayer, “…sweetheart.”
Asshole, you think losing the fight against a shiver.
“Because,” he says, propping his sharp yaw against his knuckles, “I would have been in on it in a heartbeat. On a date. Or something. Anything, really.”
You say his name like that again and hide your face inside your palms, seeking refuge from your past decisions. “Don’t do this to me.”
“Yeah, fuck that. You started this. I’m just, ahm, levelling the playing field,” he laughs a little bitterly. “T’s not like I won’t think about some if’s and could have been’s now, ya know?”
You can’t look up. You want to ask him if he heard of spontaneous self-combustion before but then he holds the match that sets you on fire.
“I always liked you.”
The groan escaping you is muffled by your palms. “So why did you never say something?”
There is a tap on your shoulder, the sudden touch startling you out of your stupor, and when you come up his warm palms almost feel cool on your heated face.
And Eddie kisses you.
A high-pitched noise escapes your throat, your hands fly to his wrists, holding on like vices because he tastes like smoke and cherry pop rocks and like endless summer skies and the world is spinning as much as his lips are soft and he sighs a little and—
Eddie is kissing you!
You take a step forward, your stomach hits the deck and you wind your fingers through his hair. The roots are damp with sweat and he sighs again when you pull. He opens his mouth to welcome you in, to lick at you with his cherry tongue and steal your breath right from your lungs and—
And then it ends. Time has never passed so fast.
The dissonance of your laboured breathing hangs between you like a chance, a peek, a warning; Eddie won’t let go of your face and you won’t let go of his.
And then he smiles. “Was good?”
You nod. “Too short.”
“Wanna come up here for more?”
Eddie’s laugh echoes through the trailer park as you scramble to climb up the deck. You knock him over, or maybe you don’t, because his hands are already on your arms and pull you with him to the floor. It doesn’t matter one way or the other. What matters is his tongue in your mouth, the hard edge of his teeth against yours and his skin under your wandering fingertips.
The sun is setting.
Eddie is still kissing you when it leaves this day for good.
Wedged between your thighs he now and then whispers little secrets to your skin.
You are so pretty.
You smell so good.
You’re making me so hard.
Eddie’s throat tastes like salt and summer dust; he likes it when you bite him.
I never said a thing because I thought you wouldn’t want me.
Because wanting you scares me.
Because you always were so distant—
when I came close.
“I’m so stupid,” you confess.
“Not stupid, sweetheart.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know.” He speaks those words into your mouth as if to share the bitterness.
I’m glad you came.
I’m glad you’re here.
I want you to stay.
I want you to stay.
I want you to stay. And if it’s only for one night…
Eddie’s room is a mess but his bed is soft. So is the light, illuminating chaos you had imagined countless times before but it’s no match for the chaos inside you. There’s so much you want to say, but so much skin to kiss. You fill the spaces in between.
“Sometimes,” you pant, his lips against your throat, “I sneak into your concerts.”
“I’ve never seen you there,” he says, almost ripping your shirt, sucking on your breasts.
“I love the sound of your voice.”
“You mean that?”
You nod, straddling his thighs, unbuttoning his pants. “I wanna hear you moan.”
Eddie moans for you when you sink down on his cock.
You feel so good.
I can’t believe it.
Neither can you. For the day began with a dragging sense of emptiness and now you are so full of him it’s driving you insane. He moans your name while you ride him, while you show him how you feel in a way words can’t.
You’re so warm.
So soft.
I wanna taste your pussy.
The secrets stop as he licks at you with fervour; but not the moans. Eddie is spoiling you with those and you’re spoiling him with praises.
He’s careful with his fingers, almost like he’s scared. You tell him where to touch, how to move and he thanks you with his eyes; shining and wide and full of pride and wonder as you tense around his fingers, twitch under his tongue.
“Fuck me, Eddie, please…”
Eddie is rough. You want him to wreck you.
I want you to remember this with your whole body.
I wanna make you breakfast.
I’m leaving in two weeks. Two weeks. Gimme those two weeks.
“Yeah,” you moan against his neck. “I’ll give you anything.”
“Don’t— don’t do that.”
“For two weeks,” you shove your hand under his chin, you make him look at you. He’s so deep inside of you it’s hard to think but this is easy: “For two weeks, I’ll give you anything.”
Eddie kisses you; he tastes like you, like you, like you and nothing else. With one hand he pins your wrists above your head and fucks you like there’s no tomorrow.
When he falls asleep on your chest, you whisper little secrets of your own.
I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry.
I’m so in love with you.
Eddie makes you breakfast. His uncle looks happy and confused; he wants you to call him Wayne. Dramatic eyes seem to be a Munson thing. Wayne makes you laugh with stories about Eddie, Eddie makes you laugh with being flustered and shy. When it’s just you and Wayne for a moment, he slips you a picture of a younger Eddie. Hair short, guitar too big for him. You hide it away like a treasure.
You promised each other two weeks so he gives the car shop an early notice to make time.
“But you need the money, Eddie.”
“I can’t buy this with money, sweetheart.”
“But—“
Eddie likes to shut you up with kisses. It’s not fair, you tell him. He doesn’t give a fuck, he tells you.
You have fourteen days and Eddie’s head is in your lap, a guitar on his chest and he plays for you; melody soft and sad, smile sharp and wide under your adoration. Even little quarrels feel like blessings because the make up is so sweet. Later, he takes you downtown where he never lets go of your hand and licks ice cream off your face.
I wrote this the day you scraped your knees.
I don’t mind you being stubborn when you kiss me like that.
You taste better without it.
Twelve days and you wake up in his arms; he keeps you in bed for hours. Soft kisses, roaming hands and never a moment of silence, you and Eddie sharing everything your minds provide, making every second count. In the evening, Eddie takes you to see a movie. He makes you come twice. You walk back to the trailer park, barefooted.
I still can’t believe you’re here.
I could listen to your thoughts for hours.
I want to fuck you in weird places.
Ten days and Eddie rolls a joint for you to share. You smoke on the roof of the trailer, making up silly names for constellations, laughing till your stomachs hurt. Then you fuck him, palms pressed to his chest, keeping him down. You draw it out till the sun comes up behind you, leaving him a mumbling mess, the corrugated metal of the roof leaving bruises on his back. You kiss them all; they are your favorite color.
I don’t want to leave anymore.
“But I’m leaving too.”
“I know.”
Seven days and Eddie packs you a picnic. It’s mostly junk food and you both feel full and lazy, like turned-over beetles, giggling like children in the high grass at the shore of Lovers Lake. You find clouds that look like dicks and whales and guitars and it’s all a bit of the same, really, and you bully Eddie out of his clothes because the water looks so nice and cool.
I used to come here with my mother.
It’s good to leave here laughing.
I’ll miss your laugh. So much.
Four days and Corroded Coffin play their last show. You are the first row in a crowd of twenty people; you cheer for twenty more. After, you give the band space, watching the end from the sidelines. There are tears, there are hugs, there are stories of days past and promises for those to come. In his van, Eddie falls into your arms and clings to you for twenty minutes. Then he kisses you, pulls you greedily into his lap and almost breaks his window when there’s no condom to be found.
I didn’t think all of this would be so hard.
I’m crazy about you.
It’s not fair.
I want to make you come with my fingers, please.
Three days and you take Eddie to your house. He needs to see where you live from the inside. Your mother loves him, like you knew she would. He pokes around your room, inspecting everything he can. Sadly, it’s not much; you already started packing. He gets quiet.
“What’s wrong?”
“I hate to see those boxes with your stuff.”
“You wanna sleep at your place?” you caress his cheekbones with your thumbs.
“No.”
Eddie can’t fall asleep. You find him wide awake at three in the morning, staring at boxes and crying silent tears. He hates it that you see them.
“Come on, get dressed. We’re leaving.”
“No.”
“I don’t want you to be upset.”
“Tough shit,” he huffs. “You said you’ll give me anything. Give me this. I wanna feel this.”
So neither of you sleep. The sun comes up when Eddie pushes your face into the mattress, your wrists in his hand on your back. He’s not gentle. You don’t want him to be. He’s everywhere. By noon he kisses the bruises on the back of your thighs. They are his favorite color, he says. He wants to leave the boxes now. So you leave.
Maybe you were right. Maybe you are stupid.
I don’t mean it!
I’m sorry.
I just want years of this.
Two days and you just stay in bed. Eddie reads to you. Lord of The Rings and he’s doing different voices, and sound effects; narrates the rain, the hooves of pony’s and everything in between with gentle fingertips on the back of your hand. And it makes you cry. Makes you cry so hard that Eddie’s shirt is soaked where he holds you to his shoulder.
“Anticipatory grief. I get it now,” he says into your hair. There is something he doesn’t say. You can feel it, but you don’t ask.
This time when he fucks you, Eddie is nothing but gentle. You almost can’t stand it. You never want him to stop. Keep him inside of you forever.
I’m in love with you.
No, I mean it.
I always liked you, remember?
“I’m in love with you too, Eddie.”
“Say that again.”
Eddie’s van is packed. He’s leaving in two hours.
Your lips are swollen from kissing, biting, sucking his cock and bruises into his skin.
“How can you be so perfect?” you ask him.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t let me leave.”
“Eddie…”
Eddie slides from your arms, slides from his room, out the porch door and flees into the forest behind the trailer.
You look after him, stunned.
Wayne sits on the deck, smoking.
“M’ sorry, kid. Really sorry.”
You know what he means. You’re sorry too.
“If he’s not back in twenty, you go after him.
“You sure?”
“Yeah. He’s my boy,” Wayne chuckles. There are tears in his voice.
You find Eddie sitting on a low branch, staring into the distance.
“You found me.”
“You’re leaving.”
“So are you.”
There are some nettles stinging your calves as you walk over, but the look on his face stings more.
It’s like the day you found him two weeks ago: you looking up at him, his eyes brimming with confusion. Except it’s nothing like two weeks ago.
“If this isn’t a pretty fucking case of self-fulfilling prophecy then I don’t know what is.”
“What do you mean?” you ask, brushing hair out of his face.
“You know what I mean.”
Of course, you do. It was you who made that prophecy.
“Do you regret it? That you gave me that kiss?” you ask in fear, a tear fleeing down your cheek.
Eddie kisses it away. “Don’t be stupid.”
Ten minutes and you lean against his van. His arms are crushing you, your nails leave red trails on his back and shoulders. You want him to remember.
“M’ going to miss you,” you sob.
“Gonna miss you too, sweetheart.”
I’ll call you every day I can.
I’ll let you know when I’m in the area.
M’ gonna visit you. I promise.
Eddie kisses you. He tastes like smoke and cherry pop rocks and plain old sadness.
You made me so happy.
It’s almost cruel.
I’d do it again. In a heartbeat.
Your mouth is dry as you watch him drive away, clouds of dirt rising from the dusty tires. Wayne holds you while you sob; he’s crying too. “Stop by for coffee b’fore you leave,” he says and you promise you will as you wave him goodbye.
The sun is low and golden as you start your way home. No. To the place where your boxes are waiting. You feel uprooted.
Two days later and the phone is ringing. You trip over a bag of clothes and bump your knee on the coffee table. You don’t feel the pain.
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1991, Dublin 📸 Corroded Coffin’s leader, Eddie Munson, and his fiancée, Chirssy Cunningham, share a kiss while enjoying the irish capital during the band’ 1st european tour.
(inspired by a picture of anya taylor-joy & malcolm mcrae)
After getting hit by some unfair censorship on Instagram and all the damn drama… I’m bringing it here nice and hot 😝
It’s still a little censored — just less this time 🤣
I’m slowly stepping out of my comfort zone and experimenting with spicier stuff ❤️🔥
Though one thing is clear: if I keep doing this kind of content, it’ll probably be outside Instagram. Maybe Patreon someday… who knows.
tags ; kurt kunkle x fem!reader, descriptions of a panic attack, lots of angst, unwanted sexual comments, unwanted physical contact, hurt/comfort, little bit of fluff, minimal use of y/n.
word count ; 2,301
previous chapter .ᐟ
The air in the car felt thick as Kurt drove to his father's house at the edge of Azusa. You were nervous, you had never met his father, but Kurt had subtly warned you, although that didn't mean that you knew what to expect.
Your hands were fidgeting in your lap as you stared out of the window ahead of you, trying to block out any negative thoughts that you were having about how tonight could potentially go, reminding yourself that you were here for Kurt. Because he needed you to be.
Kurt parked outside of a dingy, grimy club, a strong smell of cigarette smoke and booze emanating from the building. "What is this?" You asked, looking up at the building confusedly.
"What do you mean? I'm taking you to meet my dad."
"I thought you meant at his house, not- Is this a strip club?" You asked, exasperated. You didn't feel safe in this part of town, and there was little streetlighting to alleviate your concerns.
"Well, yeah- But my dad DJs here, they gave him a residency-" Kurt explained, not understanding your objections.
"Kurt, for goodness sake, I don't want to meet him at a weird strip club! Why didn't you organize a dinner or something?"
He looked like you'd kicked him in the chest. He never responded well to being scolded, and you honestly hadn't meant to, but you didn't get dolled up to sit in some creepy club all evening.
"I- I'm sorry." He mumbled, reaching out to take your hand but you pulled away. "Come on, don't do that."
"Don't do what?" You snapped. You knew you were being unfair. You knew Kurt hated his father but secretly chased any kind of validation he could get from him. You knew he likely suggested to meet at the club and Kurt agreed without a second thought, because that's what Kurt did.
"Are you mad at me?"
Your heart softened for a second, thinking about everything you knew about Kurt's weird and complicated relationship with his father, and you knew that tonight was going to be tough on him as well. You sighed, defeated. "No, honey. I'm not." Your voice was gentler now, and you laced your fingers together as a silent offer for an apology.
"We don't have to stay long." Kurt offered, pulling your hand into him and stroking the back with his thumb. "Just an hour at most, okay?"
You nodded, and both of you got out of the car. Kurt grabbed your hand again and lead you inside. You noticed a large, neon sign that read 'Club Dirt'... Who the hell chose that weird name? Although, it suited it's appearance you supposed.
The music was loud, and the flashing lights assaulting your eyes. You felt Kurt's grip tighten on your hand, and saw how his shoulders tensed ever so slightly. He never did well in environments like these, and it made you want to cover him in the softest blanket and cradle him tightly, whispering sweet nothings into his ear while he drifts to sleep, his entire being so coated with love that you had poured over him.
But you couldn't do that. And you couldn't help him.
The first thing that you noticed were the lack of actual strippers, which you couldn't deny made the evening a little easier, as it took one weird aspect of it away, although the empty club was just as pathetic.
Kurt lead you through the barren tables, to a booth where his father was sat. You recognized him from a few pictures that you had seen, and he wore a white jacket, with a shirt that was plastered in designer logos. To you, he came off as somebody desperately trying to cling to their youth.
"Hey Hey! There's my boy!" Kris exclaimed, pulling Kurt into an awkward hug which he didn't reciprocate.
"Hi, dad..." He mumbled over the loud music, some dumb dance track.
Kris' eyes latched onto you, eyeing you up and down like a piece of meat. Unfortunately, Kurt was looking at his shoes so he didn't notice. "Well. Who do we have here?" He leered, his eyes fixating on your chest before flickering back to your face.
"Um..." You swallowed uncomfortably. "I'm Y/N, Kurt's girlfriend... It's nice to meet you." You offered a small smile.
"Kurt's girlfriend?! How much is he paying you?" Kris laughed obnoxiously, like it was the funniest joke in the world. You smiled awkwardly, while Kurt continued to stare at the ground.
You forced out a weak "Haha..." Acting like you hadn't heard that joke a million times before.
He pulled you into a hug too, and you didn't miss the way his hips brushed you ever so slightly. You stiffened almost immediately, but he didn't seem to notice. His hand slid down a slither too low, splaying over your lower back, his fingers grazing dangerously close to places he was never allowed to go.
He pulled back, his hands gripping your waist firmly. Kurt stood beside you, staring bullets into his father's hands, yet not making an attempt to intervene. What could he do?
You chuckled awkwardly, already overwhelmed with the absurdity of the situation. You felt completed stuck and mortified.
Eventually, he let go. and the three of you sat down in the booth. Kurt wrapped his arm protectively around your waist, replacing the lingering feeling from his father with soft, gentle hands.
"You know, you're pretty hot." Kris said suddenly, and your neck prickled with humiliation. Kurt's head shot up, giving his best attempt at a warning look. "You should audition to dance here."
"What?" You choked.
"As a stripper, you'd be popular. You got the body for it-"
"Dad!" Kurt cut him off, you'd actually never seen him look so angry. Your chest began to heave as the large and empty club suddenly felt suffocating. You had never been disrespected so disgustingly.
"What?! It's just business!" He insisted, but the damage was done.
You pushed away from Kurt and dashed outside, away from both of them. Your head was spinning, and you felt completely violated. Kurt soon hurried after you.
"Y/N?" He called out, grabbing your wrist. Every touch felt like sandpaper against your skin, and you shoved his chest, cowering against his car.
He took a step back, holding his hands up in defense. "Hey..." He spoke softly, calmly. "I- I won't touch you."
"Go away." You sobbed, your tears falling at uncontrollable speeds, your chest feeling tight, every breathe feeling like you can't get enough air in your lungs.
"I'll take you home-"
"No!" You snapped, still hyperventilating. You simultaneously needed his comfort and needed him to go away and never come back. How had such a sweet boy come from such rotten seeds?
He stood awkwardly for a moment, way out of his depth. It was usually you comforting him, and he didn't have a clue what he was supposed to be doing.
From over Kurt's shoulder, you saw his father emerge from the club. You instantly felt worse, "No, no..." You sobbed, stepping backwards. Kurt followed your gaze, and stepped in front of you protectively.
"Get out of here!" He called over, but his father just looked confused.
"Why the tears? My dancers are supposed to be happy!"
You sobbed harder, your knees buckling until you were crawling backwards on the asphalt.
Your extreme reaction confused Kurt, but above all, it confused yourself. You were no stranger to weird comments, people peeking where they shouldn't be, or weird men trying to cop a feel. But something about this being Kurt's father freaked you out. Was this the rest of your life?
The man you loved, the only one you wanted to be with forever... Could you put up with this forever? Would Kurt make you see him again?
As your thoughts continued to consume you, Kurt argued with his father, the cracks in their weird relationship splitting open completely as his overwhelming need to latch onto you grabbed him tighter than his need for validation did. Thankfully.
"Don't even speak to her like that." Kurt snarled, unlike him to be so confident and outspoken, but it seemed the situation had unlocked something primal in him, as the real threat of losing you was being held over his head.
"She's being dramatic, Kurt-"
"No," Kurt cut him off immediately. Nobody was going to disrespect you. "No, she's not. You're disgusting-"
"Oh, I'm disgusting?!" Kris laughed with disbelief. "You're disgusting! Until you met her, you were a greasy little-"
"You never taught me shit!" He snapped, the argument moving away from how his father had treated you, and delved into unchartered territory.
"I suppose that was my responsibility?" He sneered sarcastically.
"Uh, yeah, dad! It was!"
"Unbelievable..." He mumbled, looking his son over. He was clean, well-fed, and had no bags under his eyes. He almost looked unrecognisable to Kris. All thanks to you, who was hugging the rim of Kurt's car, trying to disappear.
"You are never speaking to her again, you understand me? You are never even going to look at her!" Kurt shouted, making you retreat further into yourself.
Kris stood there dumbfounded, confused as to where this version of his pathetic, loser son had come from.
Kurt turned around to face you, and picked you up in one swoop, his strength seemingly coming from nowhere. You tried to protest, but he didn't give you time before opening the passenger side door and throwing you inside.
He gave one last sharp look to his father, before getting in and driving away.
You were sobbing beside him, scared by Kurt's brash actions, still feeling disgusted by his father, and overall feeling confused and overwhelmed.
Kurt drove quietly, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He understood very well these next moments would make or break your relationship, and he could not lose you.
"Y/N..." He started gently, speaking only when your gut-wrenching sobs softened into delicate hiccups.
He thought about reaching for your hand, but he quickly remembered how important his actions right now were. He'd let you initiate anything.
"I'll change the flights... Um... We'll leave as early as possible."
"Okay." You sniffed, wiping at the black mascara covering your cheeks.
"I'm never seeing that man again." He mumbled, his voice tight and lacking the warmth it held just a second ago.
"Okay." You repeated, your voice small. You were exhausted, you hadn't cried like in years.
Kurt parked outside of his mother's home, turning to face you. Your cheeks were wet with undried tears, dark streaks of mascara trailing down them. You honestly looked beautiful.
"I love you." He whispered, but you just nodded. Such an emotionally charged phrase, and you weren't sure if you had it in you to repeat it just yet. Kurt understood, he always did. "You wanna go inside?" He asked softly.
You nodded, but made no attempt to move. Your body felt like lead, and moving it required strength you definitely didn't have.
Kurt got out of the car, the cold air that rushed in making you shiver. He opened your door and offered you his hand, which you shakily took.
He lead you straight to his bedroom, and allowed you to immediately collapse into his bed. You hugged his pillow to your chest, your body deflating with exhaustion. "Kurt..?" You spoke quietly, your voice still fragile.
"Yeah?" He stood opposite you, unsure about where to go now.
"I love you." You whispered, and you meant it.
Kurt smiled, "I love you too." He whispered back. He stared at you for a moment longer, your beautiful tear-stained face, your hair draped across his mattress.
He took some things from your bag, and knelt down in front of you, gently wiping your makeup off. You let yourself be babied, you needed it. It was nice to be on the receiving end for once, and you couldn't deny the fact that you were glad Kurt had it in him to take care of you.
"Thank you." You replied, your voice still quiet but you sounded much more sure of yourself.
"Don't thank me." He chuckled, but it lacked any real force.
He stood back up once he was done, and got you some pyjamas out. He helped you change into those, being mindful about how you were feeling while also making you feel like a princess.
When he eventually laid down beside you, he just stared at you for a moment, at your bloodshot eyes. His hand came to the back of your head, and gently pulled you in for a soft kiss. You allowed him to kiss you, and you hooked your arms around the back of his neck.
When you broke away, you smiled for the first time this evening.
"There's my pretty girl." He whispered, thumb brushing over your cheek like you were made of porcelain. To him, you were.
Your smile turned coy, and you hid your head in his chest. He took that as an invitation to wrap his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible.
"Don't hide from me..." Kurt chuckled, lifting your chin up with his finger. You chuckled too, and saw his eyes soften at the beautiful noise.
"I love you." You repeated, pecking him softly on the lips.
"I love you too." He agreed, brushing his fingers over your face gently in the same way you do to him when you want him to close his eyes. You follow his cues, your heart swelling that he obviously picked it up from you.
He doesn't notice you noticing, and you let him bask in the thought that he was taking care of you. Because he was. No matter what, he was the sweetest angel you had even known.
You were relieved to have calmed down from the storm earlier, and glad that Kurt took your side, not that you really expected anything else from him, he was a complete sucker for you above everything else.
You felt him softly kiss your forehead as sleep took you, exhaustion seeping into your bones as you only thought about getting back to Indiana and being able to be with Kurt without anyone bothering you so disgustingly.
So much awful had come from this stupid trip to California.
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About: It's your turn to help host the staff Christmas party this year, and thankfully for you your new coworker, Steve, is a holiday connoisseur. Things start to get a little more intimate between you two, and Gator takes notice. Just not in the way you'd think.
WC: 5.7K
Warnings: 18+ MDNI; graphic sex/smut (TILLINGTON HAS ARRIVED), language, Christmas
Yes, it's Christmastime in my June fic, I don't give a shucky darn.
❄️ December - 1 Week Later ❄️
You're sitting at the front nurse's station going over your assignments for the next morning. Steve is seated in the same pod as you catching up on his charting. It's the kind of comfortable, calm quiet that is exceedingly rare in a hospital, and one that no one would ever dare jinx by even mentioning it.
As you take the opportunity to go through the emails you've missed on your days off, Gator stalks through the ambulance bay doors.
"Christ, ya could play a little music or something. It's so qu --"
"SHUT UP." You and Steve bark in unison, eyes wild in shock that he was about to break the one rule of healthcare -- you don't. Say. Quiet.
"Fuck me, sorry, ladies."
"Whaddya want, Gator? I'm busy."
He leans over the desk and sees you hurriedly clicking out of your Amazon shopping cart and onto your work emails. He shoots you a sneaky grin and shrugs.
"Just checking in. Slow night for us, too. Wanted to make sure a certain Cryptkeeper wasn't givin' ya anymore trouble?"
A brief flash of anger flares at even mentioning Dr. Crisp, but you shake your head.
"Nah, he hasn't said much. Think he's mad, someone filled his gas tank with sugar a few days ago."
You quirk a brow at him and he snorts, trying to hold back a laugh.
"No kiddin'."
"Oh, yah, you didn't know nothin' about that, huh?"
"Me? Nah. But maybe it'll help him be a little sweeter when he's workin' with ya."
Gator winks and you chuckle, shaking your head and returning to your computer screen.
"I thought it was pretty funny." Steve mutters under his breath.
You and Gator both turn to look at him, surprised that he was engaging in a conversation between the two of you. Steve's eyes flick between you both a few times before he shrugs and continues charting.
"He had it coming."
"See, boss? Paddington gets it."
"It's Harrington."
"Aww, shit." You murmur, one particularly festive email subject catching your eye.
🎄🎁 UNIT EVENT COUNCIL TASK LIST☃️🎅
You open it, and it's just as bad as you suspect. It's your turn to help host and decorate for the upcoming staff Christmas party.
"What's up?" Steve asks, concern in his sweet, puppy-dog eyes. Gator says nothing, but there's a similar look in his eyes, too.
"Aah, I completely forgot. I'm on the goddamn holly jolly committee this year."
"You??" Gator scoffs. You shoot him a glare and bury your face in your hands.
"What's wrong with that?" Steve asks innocently, eyebrows drawn together in a puzzled expression.
"Boss lady doesn't do holidays. Especially not the holly jolly kind."
"What??"
"No, I dont. And now I gotta go to the stupid craft place in my free time and get a buncha decorations and shit. And that means I have to go to the damn party. Fuck my life..."
"Oh, well I'm - I'm like obsessed with Christmas. I've got half an attic-full of decorations."
Your ears perk up at that, and a slow, devious grin splits your face.
"Oh...do ya now?"
"Ooh. Bad call, Burlington."
"It's Harrington. And why's that a bad call?"
"So, yah, Steve -- can I come over and raid your attic?"
🎄
Steve agrees to come and pick you up on your next shared day off so you can go through the decorations in his attic. You offered to take the bus over instead, but he insisted that it was no problem and you love riding in the BMW, so it wasn't hard to convince you.
You couldn't deny that you had a few butterflies flapping around in your stomach. This was, on the surface, a strictly work-related issue. You needed decorations for the Christmas party, Steve was willing to share from his collection. You two have been on a few post-shift coffees, and when you work together the conversation flows easily, laughs are frequent, and a little harmless flirting is common.
It just really hasn't escalated much further than that, despite the fact that you wanted it to (and you suspected and hoped he did too). Now you were going to his home, and would be there for a few hours at least if his collection is as massive as he says.
So, you decide, it's worth wearing the fancy underwear. You put a little light makeup on and twist your hair into a comfortable-but-cute messy bun and throw on a baggy sweater with tights.
As you're deciding on what shoes to wear, there's a knock at the door. You'd left it unlocked because you knew Steve would be here any minute.
"C'mon in!" You call from your bedroom.
You hear the door open and shut, then Steve's voice.
"You just leave the door unlocked?"
"Only for my friends! I'll be out in just a sec, just grabbing shoes!"
"You should really keep it locked! Y'know, since --"
You lean your head out the bedroom door, eyebrow cocked and mouth in a hard line. Your face is encouraging him to choose his next words wisely.
"Well, just since you're alone. No cause you're a girl or anything."
"Woman, Steve. And thanks for the concern, but I can handle myself."
You go back to shuffling through your closet and Steve huffs a laugh through his nose, starting to meander around your living room.
He smiles at the pictures on the wall; you with your girlfriends, your college graduation, and a much younger you hugging a big, fluffy German Shepherd. He flips through your box of vinyls, nodding at some selections and wrinkling his nose at others. He decides that he'll have to bring his collection over some time to swap some tunes.
When he takes a step back, his shoulder bangs into something hard and metal. He winces and glances up and down at the random silver bar extending from the floor to the ceiling. Why would you have one bare support beam in this random open --
Oh my god.
It's a dance pole. You have a dance pole.
So, as natural as the tide, Steve now pictures you dancing on it, grinding your hips and shaking your ass, spreading your legs. Most enticingly he pictures that it's a show just for him; that you could dance for anyone, and you choose him because you want him to see you. All of you.
You step into the living room with your bag and shoes, ready to go.
"Alrighty, let's hit it --"
Steve spins around, face completely awash in pink and his stance sporting an odd bend at the hip. His eyebrows shoot high up on his forehead and his smile is too forced, false. Nervous.
"Woah...ya alright, Harrington?"
He nods too enthusiastically, and then you realize he's taking tiny steps away from your pole. A sneaky grin spreads across your face, and he just shakes his head, though you're not sure what for.
"Oh, sure. You can really work up a sweat with this thing. Play your cards right, and I'll show ya sometime."
You wink and walk through the door, trying to stifle the laughter that begs to be set free at Steve's absolutely wrecked expression. While your back is to him, he adjusts his half-hard cock in his jeans before following you out.
☃️
"Steven."
"Yeah?"
"Why -- why do you have so many Christmas decorations?"
You stand at the entrance to Steve's living room where he's laid out all of the decorations from the attic in advance, and it looks like a Hallmark movie bomb went off. There are clusters of tinsel and garland in at least four different colors, boxes of inflatables, six giant wreaths, two Styrofoam snowmen, containers of baubles, ornaments, and miscellaneous decor, window stickers, and miles of string lights. It's more Christmas decorations than you've ever had in your entire life combined, right here in this room.
Steve looks over his holiday treasures proudly, hands on his hips.
"Christmas is fun. Colorful, joyful. Get to give things to people you love, spoil them a little. I dunno -- it's just nice."
You step carefully over glass trinkets and vintage plastic blow molds of Frosty and Rudolph. Something red, white, and fuzzy catches your eye on the couch. You pull it out and hold it up in front of you and catch Steve clearing his throat, shifting his weight nervously.
"Is this a Santa costume?"
"Mm-hm."
"Do you...dress as Santa?"
"Well, not like routinely, no. I used to for the kids at the hospital back home sometimes, and I just kept it. You never know..."
You bring it down from its accusatory angle and hold it closer to your chest, realizing just how big of a heart the man in front of you has.
"You're such a good guy, Steve. I swear."
"Why don't you 'do' Christmas? Is it a religious thing?"
"Nah. We just weren't a big holiday household. I was mostly raised by my dad, and...yeah, we usually just let days slip on by without making too much of a fuss. Was easier that way. Then I guess I grew up and never really made any new traditions." You shrug and fold the Santa costume neatly, placing it back into the box you found it in.
"Oh."
You shake your head and wag your finger at him admonishingly.
"Nooo, no pity party, Steve. I'm a big girl, I'm perfectly fine even without a single festive bone in my body. Now, I think this garland would be great, can we use that? Maybe these little trees, too? For the tabletops."
He nods and grabs an empty box, adding the items you were choosing to use for the party. He throws in a couple of hanging decorations, snowflakes and reindeer, and a few of the smaller wreaths.
"I have plates and stuff, too. Serving sets."
You giggle. "Of course you do. That would be awesome. What is this stuff?" You hold up a green, twiggy plant with small, white nodules, tied together with a satin red ribbon.
Steve smiles wide and gently takes it from your fingers, holding it over both of your heads.
"Mistletoe."
The tiniest, "oh" sneaks past your lips, and your eyes dance over each other's faces, looking for signals. Steve takes a step closer and you reach out to take his other hand, inviting him nearer.
He lets go to brush a tendril of hair behind your ear, then lets his fingers softly linger on the nape of your neck.
"Can I?"
You nod, and he leans in, brushing his lips over yours as soft as a whisper at first. Then he's kissing your top lip; you feel the hint of a flick of his tongue like he's testing how far you want this to go. It's intense in its sweetness, so gentle and slow that every minute twitch and opening of your mouths is tantalizingly felt.
You bring your own hands up his strong, lean chest, up the column of his throat and to his face, finally tangling in his thick head of beautiful dark hair. A small groan tickles against your mouth, and you can feel yourself clench in response, pressing your thighs together for relief.
You open your eyes for a moment to marvel in the softness of his face as he kisses you, and you notice that he's still holding the damn mistletoe above you. You chuckle against his lips and grab his wrist, bringing it down to your waist. The mistletoe tumbles to the floor, and Steve grips your hips with both hands.
"I've wanted -- to do this -- for a week." He blurts out between deep, sensuous kisses.
"You've only known me a week."
"Yeah, exactly."
You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling your bodies tightly together and burying your face in his shoulder. He gently kisses the spot behind your ear that makes you shudder, and you pull back just enough to see his pretty, glittering eyes.
"I really like you, Steve."
"I really like you, too."
🎁
❄️ 2 Weeks Later ❄️
Twas the shift before the Christmas party, and things between you and Steve have escalated exponentially. You no longer bother hiding your flirty banter, and even steal kisses and touches whenever you're around each other on the unit.
Tonight you both happened to be working together again (that also seemed to happen a lot more lately), and the wee hours before shift change were dragging on. You lean back in your swivel chair, sipping on a coffee and willing your eyes to stay open, when a long pair of familiar arms wind around you. Steve's scent fills your nostrils, warm and inviting, and you turn your head slightly to give him a chaste kiss on the lips.
"Hiya. How's it going?"
"Fine. Just did the glucometers, wiped down the COWs."
"Aw, thanks hon. Ya don't gotta do all that stuff, I usually just knock it out around 5 or 6."
He shrugs and kisses your temple.
"I like helping."
You pinch his cheek, and in an overly saccharine voice say, "Aren't you just the bestest, sweetest boy?"
He swallows and rubs the back of his neck.
"Ooh, maybe not that kind of talk right out here."
"Oh?" You lean closer to the shell of his ear. "Does that do it for ya? Me telling ya how fucking good you are for me?"
He stands straight and glances down both ends of the desolate hallway.
"Hang on." He scurries down the corridor for a moment, and when he comes back it's with Madgie in tow, of all people.
"Thanks, Madgie. Appreciate you. Ready boss? I swear one of these days I'll remember the way to radiology. Just...isn't today. Madgie said she can watch the front."
Steve raises his eyebrows at you subtly and you play right along, nodding and shuffling papers around your desk.
"Yah, we're gonna have to get ya a map, Harrington. Be right back, thanks Madgie."
Madgie grumbles in response, going back to reading her romance novel, and the second you and Steve round the corner on the way to radiology he pulls you into a closet.
It was one that you all deemed the "haunted closet", because the light was busted and it was at the end of a remote, dark hallway. It was filled with old signs and busted chairs, mostly junk the hospital administrators were too cheap to throw away. He presses you up against the door, lifting your legs around his hips with ease.
"You're such a fucking tease, you know when you say stuff like that it makes me hard."
"I do know, that's why I said it."
"But I'm so good to you, aren't I? Why're you being so mean?"
"M'sorry. Maybe you should punish me."
It's pitch black in this closet, but if you could look at Steve's eyes right now you would see the lovely, velvety, greenish-brown of his eyes would be completely engulfed in black with the desire coursing through his veins.
"Yeah? You want that?"
He delivers a light smack to the side of your ass cheek, making you squirm.
"I think I do. It's the only way I'll learn, Steve."
A low grumble looses from his chest and he drops your legs back to the floor, spinning you to face the door. He plants your hands on the wood and runs his hand down your back until he reaches the curve of your ass.
He spanks you again, slightly harder than the first.
"Gonna be nice?"
"Mmm...nope."
"Brat."
He spanks your other cheek, this time with a pretty significant sting to it. He grips the globe of your ass, moving his hand to feel it jiggle beneath his palm.
"How about now?"
"I'm -- I'm feeling a little friendlier, maybe. Maybe one more, just to be safe."
He rears back and gives you one final slap on the opposite side, then runs his finger down the crack of your ass over your scrub pants. He cups your mound in his big, nimble hands, feeling how much heat is coming off of you even through the fabric.
"Nice list? Or naughty list?"
You giggle through your panting breaths and wiggle your ass enticingly.
"I'm feeling really nice, now."
"Well, good. You know what nice girls get?"
"Hm?"
He steps away from your side and tugs your pants and underwear halfway down your hips. Grabbing your tender ass cheeks and spreading you open, he dips his tongue straight into your slit, tasting your juices and moaning into your pussy.
"Oh, shit, Steve! Is that your mouth?"
"Mm-hm." He murmurs, tongue too busy fucking into your tight hole to form a real response.
You whimper and moan against the door, trying not to make too much of a ruckus as Steve feasts on you. He begins to lightly rub two fingers over your clit in varying shapes and lines until he feels you jolt and tense around his tongue. He keeps that exact movement up until he feels you grow wetter, spilling yourself into his waiting mouth with his name on your breath.
He straightens after he's lapped up all of your cum, wiping his lips and chin on the inside of his scrub top and sliding your pants back around your waist, ending it with a final loving tap against your ass.
You feel for his chest and turn his back to the door, working the tie on his scrub pants to free his straining cock. His hands try to stop yours.
"Hey, you don't have to. It's fine."
"Pssh. What are ya talking about?"
"I didn't do that just to get something back. I just wanted to taste you."
His words send a trembling aftershock through your groin, but you send it back and keep undressing him.
"Well, what if I want the same? Ya gonna let me have a taste of you, Steve?"
He stops trying to stop you at once.
"I mean, if that's what you want."
"Mm. Such a martyr, you are."
You fall to your knees in front of him and shimmy his pants past his hips. You can't see in here, but it's making everything so much more touch-sensitive and it's kind of magical. You grip his base and gently stroke upward, and his head bangs against the door.
"Shh!"
"Shit, s-sorry."
"Must stay quiet, Harrington. Don't want anyone to catch ya with your cock in my mouth, do ya?"
"Well, I mean --"
You quiet him with a few flicks of your tongue against the underside of his head, the taste of salty precum already dribbling down from the slit.
You suck the tip between your lips, giving a couple of teasing bobs, before you relax your throat and go as deeply as you can take him. It's still not his entire length, you can feel that, so you stroke the base of him with your hand in time with your sucks. Normally you might like to tease him a little more, but it's getting closer to shift change and you can't stay in this closet forever.
You hollow your cheeks and let out little moans against, the vibrations making his balls tighten up.
"Gonna cum. Where can I--?"
You start taking him in faster, deeper; his hand goes to the back of your head and you can feel him lightly rutting his hips, so you let him fuck your mouth until he groans and you feel the hot, heady taste of his cum spilling down your throat.
You try and straighten each other up by the lights of your phone screens, giggling like teenagers all the while.
"Excited for the party tonight?"
"Bah, humbug."
"Aah, it's gonna be great. I decided I'm gonna wear the Santa costume."
"You're...not serious?"
"Uh, deadly serious, actually."
"Why on God's green earth would you wear that thing?"
"Because it's Christmas? And if I dress as Santa I can ask you to sit on my lap, and no one will think twice about it."
He smiles, gives you a peck on the lips, and opens the closet door. You both step out into the hallway, and a very familiar smell wafts into your nose. An artificial sweetness, pungent and --
"Well, well, well." Gator croons, one foot braced against the hallways wall as he puffs on his vape.
Your eyes go wide with horror, though you're not sure why. It's not like you're cheating or being unfaithful. Still, it was yet another blending of your two worlds, making this thing even messier than it already was.
You straighten your scrub top and puff out your chest, breezing by Gator like you had somewhere to be (which was literally anywhere else).
"Ya can't vape in the hospital, Gator. I've told ya that a hundred times."
"There's lotsa things ya can't do in a hospital, boss. I think you and Kensington just did a few of em in the haunted closet."
You turn on your heel abruptly and both Gator and Steve stop dead in their tracks, Steve mildly annoyed and Gator thoroughly amused.
"Gator, can it. What Steve and I do is none of your business."
He holds his hands up defensively, and you realize that he's not even in uniform, just his layperson clothes; a tight-fitting, well-worn AC/DC t-shirt half-tucked into dark wash jeans with his camo jacket and backwards baseball cap.
"Are you even working right now?"
"Nah."
"Get the fuck outta here, Gator." You rub your temple exasperatedly and return to the front desk to relieve Madgie.
"Alright, I'm going, I'm going. Was just gonna tell ya I'll be at the party tonight."
He snorts through his nose, mimicking the word, "titillating" under his breath as he swaggers back to the entrance of the hospital.
"See ya tonight, boss lady. You too, Remington."
Steve doesn't bother correcting him.
🎅
You settle on a snug-fitting crushed red velvet top with a plunging neckline and deep emerald green plaid pants. It's about all you have in the way of "gay apparel".
A knock at the door pulls you from the kitchen as you gather last minute potluck items; cookies, egg nog, peppermint bark, and chips and salsa. You twist the deadbolt and swing the door open, then try to contain your scream.
Steve is dripping in crimson and white fur, a thick leather belt in the middle cinched at his narrow waist and of course, the hat.
"No beard, hm?"
"Nah, I'm going for like the fun, youthful Santa look, y'know?"
"Mm. Well, I support your life choices, Steve. C'mon, help me grab all this food."
You both take plastic totes with your food items and disposable plates and napkins and load them into Steve's BMW. Once everything is in and Steve shuts the trunk, he brings something from behind his back and dangles it overhead. You recognize it now as mistletoe. He grins at you and you lean up on your tip-toes to give him a long, slow, sweet kiss.
"You are looking so damn good, Mrs. Clause. Christmas classy."
You chuckle, reaching into your back pocket.
"Well, I did get one thing to help get into the holiday spirit..." You shove the red, glittery Santa hat you found at the grocery store over your hair and grin up at him cheesily.
You could almost swear you see a literal twinkle in his eye.
❄️
An hour or so into the party you've finished your White Elephant gift exchange and listened to enough Christmas music that you crave the solitude of sitting in a silent, padded room for a few hours. If you have to hear about this man's grandma getting run over by a reindeer one more time, you might commit arson.
Now you're just mingling and sipping at Madgie's "Jingle Juice", which is just fruit punch with rum and vodka and orange slices. Steve nudges you with his hip as you both lean against one of the back walls. His eyes are glassy and his face soft from the slight buzz, and you imagine yours is the same.
"Hey, Santa Baby."
"Hey, ho ho ho."
You feign a look of offense and he giggles, cheeks pink as he laces his fingers with yours.
"I'm -- I'm so sorry. Gator said it was funny."
You stare daggers at Gator from across the conference room and he's already watching, shoulders shaking with anticipatory laughter. You give him the finger, and he shoots it right back.
"So, you two are friends now? Cause that sounds like a special kind of hell, I can't lie."
"What? I'm a friendly guy."
"Mm-hm. Friendly's what ya call it?"
You wink at him and he leans in to whisper directly in your ear.
"I can show you exactly how friendly I can be, if you like."
You purse your lips to contain your excitement, but nod eagerly anyway. He pulls you by your connected hands towards the doctor's office hallway.
"Where are you taking me, Santa Steve?"
"Heard Crisp got a big, sturdy, solid oak desk last week. I'd love to see something that fancy, y'know?"
He stops on a dime and pins you suddenly against the wall of the hallway, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze.
"Oh, and I'd really love to fuck you on it."
You gasp a shuddered breath and mash his face onto yours, kissing him sloppily and tangling his hair into knots. Both of your teeth occasionally graze with smallest click as you lick and fuck your tongues into each other's mouths. You start walking backwards towards Crisp's office, tugging Steve by the fur collar.
You pull out the master hospital key you keep on you all the time and swing the door to Crisp's ugly, bare office. Leadership does have its benefits, after all.
Steve was right -- there's a sleek new desk, rich, unscathed, and a deep brown color with whorling patterns and a shiny clear coat over the whole thing. It's basically a Cadillac.
You slip your feet out of your boots and kick them across the room, then tug your slacks down and toss them off in the same direction. Steve grips his length through the cheap material of his Santa suit and slowly strokes himself, eyes burning holes into your skin.
"Know what I got ya this year, Steve?"
"What's that?"
You teasingly pinch the hem of your sweater and lift it overhead, leaving you in nothing but your stupid Santa hat and your brand new matching lacy red bra and panties. He drinks you in, tracing your curves and leering at the fabric that leaves very little to the imagination.
His hands are at your waist in moments, picking you up and setting your bare ass down on the oak. You squeal at the feel of the frigid surface of the desk under your flushed skin. Steve stands between your parted legs, arms caging you in and hands planted firmly on the desk. He licks and nips at the softest parts of your neck, feeling your pulse hammering beneath his lips.
He closes the distance even further, rubbing his rigid cock over your barely clothed pussy. The friction is electric, scratching an itch burning within both of you, but just by a fraction.
"God, you're so big."
"You gonna take it anyway?"
"Mm-hm, yah. Give it to me, please."
One of his hands slips between your legs and tugs the pitiful scrap of fabric you call panties to the side. He runs a finger delicately between your lips, spreading your slickness all over it, then curls it inside of you and begins to slowly pump in and out. He adds a second shortly after and scissors them, sending a delightful buzzing through your skull.
"Condom?"
"Birth control."
"Fuck, so...can I--"
"Cum inside me?"
Steve nods enthusiastically, hopefully. You stroke his cheek, smiling warmly.
"Merry Christmas, Steve Harrington."
Both of you giggle, mouths touching, as Steve frees himself from the confines of his Santa pants. Seeing it in the light this time, you get an idea of the absolute monster you're working with.
It's long, tilting upward toward his belly button with a slight lean to the right. A delicious blue vein squiggles along the underside, giving you the urge to feel it on your tongue again. You reach between your legs and pump him a few times, then he angles his hips and begins to push inside of you.
With a few tender thrusts you take him all, dizzied from the sheer fullness. He starts a slow roll of his hips as you meet him with yours, feeling every inch of him as he drags his cock through your pussy.
You're so blissed out that you don't hear the office door open, but Steve does. He looks up over your shoulder and watches as Gator slinks in, eyeing the two of you with what seems to be only mild interest. His eyes latch onto Steve's, and he settles into a chair in the corner, legs spread wide.
Steve gives you a pointed thrust, making you cry out and clutch at his shoulders, and he gives Gator a cocky smirk. Gator returns the gesture and palms his hardening dick over his pants.
You whine when Steve pulls out of you, but feel a thrill go through your spine when he gruffly flips you over, steadying yourself on the table with your palms and jutting your ass out for him to take. He glides back in and gives you no time to adjust to this new angle, fucking you at a feverish pace and gathering your hair into a bunch that he can fist. He doesn't pull hard enough to hurt, just enough to arch your back a little and make you look straight ahead.
Straight at Gator.
You feel like you would have screamed or yelped if you weren't in your fucked-out haze, or maybe it was just because it was...Gator. You knew Gator, you maybe even liked having him around despite his arrogance and bad jokes. So watching him stroking his cock through his jeans while Steve pounded into you from behind just felt...acceptable?
"G-Gator, wha- are y-?"
Gator just holds a finger up to his lips to shush you, then pops the button on his jeans and shimmies them down just enough for his own thick, hard cock to jump free. Steve and Gator were both incredibly well-endowed, and for a moment you wonder what it might be like to have two beasts like that going at you at once.
Your cunt squeezes around Steve at the thought and he sucks in a breath between his teeth, smacking one of your ass cheeks lightly.
"You like when he watches, hm? So dirty."
Gator spits into his palm and slicks it up his length, rubbing his thumb just under the head like you usually do. Your cheeks go flushed and you only manage a keening sound before you're starting to feel boneless. Your elbows bend, chest pressing against the desk.
Suddenly a rough, calloused, and very familiar hand is tucking under your jaw and pulling you back upright. Gator has crawled across the other side of the oak desk, kneeling on it in front of you and continuing to jerk himself off.
You instinctively open your mouth, inviting him to fuck your throat if he so desired. Instead, he leans forward and braces himself on one arm and kisses you. His tongue laves against yours and he sucks your lower lip onto his mouth before gently nipping at it with this straight, sharp teeth.
Your eyes flutter at the duality of how hard Steve is fucking you versus how soft Gator is kissing you. Steve grips the back of one of your thighs and hikes your knee up onto the desk, splitting you open wide so he can dig into you even deeper. You moan into Gator's mouth and he swallows it all, fucking into his fist harder.
"In- my- mouth?" You manage to stutter out between backshots.
Gator straightens up on his knees, his cock perfectly angled at your face. You open your mouth wide again, sticking out your tongue, and he taps his cock against it, brushing the glistening tip over your lips and letting you lap at the precum beading at the tip.
Steve watches everything, enraptured by the sight of you with Gator's cock teasing your mouth. He brings a hand forward to stroke your clit as he fucks you mercilessly; he is about to bust, but wants you to milk it from him with your own orgasm.
"Gonna cum on his dick, boss? Show him how tight your sweet little pussy can squeeze him?"
The obscene slapping sounds of Steve ramming you from behind are growing wetter. The coil winding tighter and tighter in your belly snaps, and you feel the rush of chemicals flood your brain, blinding you.
"God, yes. That's it, fuck." Steve's rhythm finally falters as he fills you with his cum, his eyes trailing up to meet Gator's.
Gator, who, surprisingly enough, was also watching him. He glances down at you, fucked out on the desk but still upright on your arms, and begins to fist his cock even more desperately. You open your mouth again, a silent invitation, and he spills hot ropes of cum across your tongue.
Before you can swallow, he sticks two fingers in your mouth and gently holds your jaw open. Your saliva and his cum pool together, dribbling past your lips and splattering onto the beautiful, stately desk. Gator gives you that trademark shit-eating smirk.
sometimes when I have to wait 10 minutes for my storebought quattro formaggi pizza I’ll sit at my desk, look what art supplies I have out and draw until the oven dings
this is one of these times. Blorbino in gouache, colored pencils and kuretake calligraphy pen
anyone wants the original? I’ll sell the fucker for like $30 lmao
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