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stevebabey · 1 year

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part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !

#at this point call this the 'can i' series #sweet boys asking each other for things they most certainly would be given <3 #but don't think they will <3 #tried to flip it and make it so even tho eddie is used to touch. the romantic touch? he's got none! that's where he's touch-starved #ALSO EVERYONE'S TAGS WERE SO NICE ON THE LAST ONE #trust i am. not feelin so bad nowadays (me saying this like 4 days later lmao)#but <3 thank u all #gay ppl in my phone.... you know what to do #ruby writes steddie #steve x eddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #touch-starved steve harrington #not rlly anymore hehe #does anyone notice that it ends with yet another 'can i?" question? HEHE #yet again stib gets kisses where ruby doesn't but alas <3 dis is way fluffier this time #nearly went the angst route! and went hmmmm naur #ok ok i'll be quiet now

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koushuwu · 1 year

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They’re Beautiful

time skip!Iwaizumi Hajime x afab!reader | 18+ content | 1,137 words | established relationship, kinda rough sex, kind of hand fetish i guess, very mild choking. Iwaizumi finally understands your obsession with his hands.

Iwaizumi Hajime never had the largest frame in his social circle and he was well aware of that. Yeah, he was muscular with broad shoulders and it wasn’t like he was short either, but there was always someone taller or broader than him. What he did have though, was the largest and prettiest hands that you’d ever seen; something that you’d never neglected to remind him. Truth be told, the ‘big’ part was the thing you’d told him most often, but he knew you found the pretty as well.

He never really understood your obsession with his hands though. They were just hands after all. Of course, without them he wouldn’t be able to play volleyball, something he very much loved doing. So yes of course he liked them too. But it was clear to him that it was for very different reasons that you liked them. And to a very different extend. You’d always make sure to tend to his hands after a game. You played with his fingers when the two of you were hanging out, relaxing. He even noticed you taking pictures once or twice, when he’d held your hand in his.

He didn’t really understand it. At least not until the two of you started getting more intimate. That’s when he suddenly started seeing his own hands in a different light.

He had big hands alright. He noticed it the first time he cupped your breast in his hands. The way his fingers pressed softly against your skin made his mouth dry. He’d swallowed hard as he drank in the sight. He really had big hands, he noticed again, once when he held onto your hips when you were on top of him, clothed pussy riding his jean clad thigh.

Iwaizumi started actually understanding the liking you’d taken to his hands, but he didn’t entirely get it, before that one time when you grabbed the base of his hand with both of yours, lifting it to your lips. The two of you had been intimate more than once at this point, but not once had he experienced anything quite like watching you guiding his hand to your lips. Like watching the passionate way you wrapped your lips around his fingers. Your gaze had locked on his and kept him in a delirious chokehold as your tongue swirled around his digits, effectively covering them in saliva. His cock jumped at that point. His hand looked good in yours. It looked good against your skin. It looked so utterly delicious in your mouth. Maybe he actually began to really get it.

“I bet your hands would look good around my throat,” you told him once and forcibly suppressed a chuckle when his eyes widened and his adams apple bobbed in his throat. You’d crawled up in his lap as he was sat on the bed after a shower. Both of your lips were swollen from heated kisses shared. “Do you want to try?” His eyes searched your face even as his cock throbbed underneath you. He wanted to, that much was clear, but he wasn’t just going to assume. He wasn’t like that.

“Are you—“

“Sure?” You finished his question for him. “Hajime, please. I want to feel it. Don’t be shy, you can be a little rough if you want,” you said and took his hands in yours, guiding them from your hips and up. Up. Up. Iwaizumi watched in awe as you placed his hands against your throat.

“I—“

“Hajime,” you all but whined, rolling your hips against him. And at that point, Iwaizumi’s gaze flickered to his hands as he let them slide up further against your skin. Yeah. His hands were big. And you were right. They did look good against your neck. At that moment, Iwaizumi thought he finally completely understood. They were beautiful. But not because they were his or in themselves. They were beautiful in unity with your body. As if they were made for your body. It got it. He understood. That’s how it started.

Now he had you on all fours on the bed, cock buried inside of you. His rhythm had your eyes rolling back in your head and his gaze fell on his hands against your hips. They were beautiful. His gaze flicked up to where you threw your head back against a particularly harsh thrust of his hips.

“You said I could be a little rough, didn’t you?” Iwaizumi asked. Even now, as he found it so hard to resist, he wanted to hear you say it.

“Y-yes—“ your voice broke off and a moan tore from your throat. “Haji— Please—“ and that was what it took before you felt it. Iwaizumi saw himself moving before he realized that he was. It was as if he was in a trance when his fingers threaded through your hair and pushed.

“Haji—“ Your arms gave out as Iwaizumi forced your body to bend further, face smushed into the pillow. Your loud moans filled the air around you, as Iwaizumi changed the angle of his thrusts, to go even deeper.

“Fuck,” he cursed. “Look at me,” he urged and loosened his hold to let you turn your head further. You looked up at him, out of the corner of your eye, and even in this state, you couldn’t get past how beautiful he looked. His eyes were curiously fixated on his hand now resting against the side of your face.

“Hajime,” you babbled and he swore he could have cum right then and there. He didn’t. He managed to hold back, even as a low groan rumbled in his chest and he pressed down a little harder. “Harder.”

Iwaizumi obliged. Happily at that, with his gaze locked onto your face on the pillow and his hands against it. He rocked into you harder. Cock aching for release when a little cripple of drool slipped from the corner of your mouth. Iwaizumi relentlessly fucked into you, and watched up come undone by him. He watched your eyes rolling back, your tongue lolling out and your saliva slipping down on the pillow. He bullied his cock into your tight warmth until the both of you reached your climax and through it. Even then, his fingers twitched against your face.

With his thumb, he swept the drool off your chin, and he knew that he finally understood. He really did understand your obsession with his hands after all. And after that one time, Iwaizumi was never able to see his hands the same way again, because whenever he tried, he pictured them against your skin. He pictured them pushing your face into the mattress. He pictured them around your throat or with his fingers in your mouth. But he had to admit, that that truly was a beautiful sight.

tags: @prettyiwa

#iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime smut #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi x reader smut #iwaizumi hajime x reader smut #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #hq!! smut #hq!!#ficlet #useradrienne #i have literally never done tag lists so i don't know what i'm doing #it's also been so long i don't even know what to tag anymore

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