#((Hope this reply works for ya))

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

||Rulers of NYC; a new chapter begins||

~~Reserved Conquerors AU with @demon-blood-youths ~~

A lot of things have changed ever since the fractions of NYC has finally taken over NYC. Many of the sections have been ruled over by the devils of each one from the many different houses that watches over the people. It's goes without saying, a lot has changed in NYC. Many wouldn't really remember what it was before the fractions took over ruling over the people.

Even with them being teenagers years ago, now the fractions are older young adults ruling the city.

Even the devils were watching this with their heirs now representing their houses. The people didn't seem to mind that.

Well, being ruled over by the head family households that is. Everyone has a section they are keeping watch over so we will go to one that seems to be active or to say in short two.

"You know, I was not expecting this happening today. But I guess this works none the less. At least Yuki and Vanity are keeping a eye on how we do this! I think were are doing just fine!" a woman looks down while seeing the people growing nervous hearing her. Though, they see her keeping a look out while seeing the people. Her red yellowish eyes glowing from the thought, seeing this. She wore the head household bloodline badge showing she was head of the cursed hellish panther family.

"Hey Ink!!! What do you think we should do after this? Find new people to add into our houses or something?" she said laughing.

[fightingthetides]

Continued from: [x] @unladielike

Mizumachi was an early riser, or a ‘morning person’ as many people would term it. He was always so full of energy, no doubt from the way he was an athlete who played high-energy sports. He needed something to burn off that excess energy that he had!

Always a social butterfly, he enjoyed being around people, especially those that he regarded as a friend (the bar isn’t that high for a guy like him), so he was excited to recognize Vivian in the morning. He gave her a big hug, much to her surprise. She didn’t get mad at him, and she didn’t push him away, so that’s a plus! This only means she’ll accept hugs in the future as well! That’s great!

“Hah? Can you sleep while standing?”

Horses can do that, but Vivian is no horse. He thinks about it for a moment, and a lightbulb goes off. With a grin, he crouches slightly, hooks an arm behind her knees and SCOOPS her up!

“Bet it’d be easier to sleep if you were carried. Mhaa~ Now you’re really at risk, haha!”

He’s being a silly jock, feel free to smack him. He might learn his lesson then. No promises.

[settinqsuns]

@smrnffvdka liked for a starter

"i want to get a new tattoo, but i don't know what to get," he explains, showing off his right arm with minimal tattoos. he has plenty of tattoos; his favorite being Nessie the Loch Ness Monster on his left arm, but he's always down to get more and after losing Daniel, he'd like to get something else to remember him by- Daniel was covered in tattoos and getting one in his memory is good enough for him. "what do you suggest ?? i was thinking about getting a cat doing something funny, like with skates on right next to him-" he points to his dinosaur that's skateboarding on his left arm. there's an empty space between that and the ghost; he'd like to fill it up with something small.

[a-hazbin-spider]

@qjjakq asked for a starter||

The bar was quieter than usual, but, this was still a bar, and Angel could still feel the blood pounding in his ears, the remains of whatever pumped in his veins, and a start of the warm feeling alcohol was giving him. Not a bad night, for a drink. In fact, he hoped booze would fix his shitty day.

It’s actually enough to get him somewhat confrontational with even only slight questionable behavior. So when he felt someone next to him, he puts on a rather tough persona. Poor sap… “Ay… watch it, would ya? It ain’t that crowded in here.”

[thinkinonsense]

-cravings.

cw: feral!logan, breeding kink, pervy!logan, marking, TA/ co-workers relationship, belly bulge, oral (fem receiving), gross!logan, squirting, male masturbation, spitting, slight praise kink, slight hair tugging, pet names, slightly grinding on abs? pantie play?

summary: logan's in a rut and only his sweet girl can help him.

a/n: so i pictured dofp!logan but x trilogy!logan also works! hope you enjoy <3 also also not proof read so sorry for any errors

"scott, have you seen logan?" your delicate voice fills the study as you pass by, looking for your mentor.

logan has been missing all day, which isn't the most unusual thing but it is odd that he said he would train with you today and yet, he's nowhere to be found.

"charles said he wasn't feeling well." scott replied, barely gazing up at you. "he's probably still in bed."

you nod, turning around to head upstairs and check on logan like any good friend would.

the floorboards creek under your light foot steps down the hall. charles, hank, and storm took the kids to a lab overnight to work on their final projects. the rest of the adult were either training or lesson planning. the wooden door glowed with golden light illuminating the rim, so warm and welcoming.

one knock turned into three and four. all of them unanswered, leaving you slightly alarmed. this wasn't like logan to ignore you.

❀༉‧₊˚

meanwhile, beyond the wooden door, logan sat on his bed trying to get a grip on this feeling. it's happened before, the familiar warmth that spreads all over. a primal craving attempting to claw its way out of him.

normally, he can hide out until the rut is over but now it is different. now logan has his eyes on someone. not just someone though.

it's the girl he's been warned not to fall for. charles, jean, hank and scott have all told logan that he's not to make a move on you. the girl who's too pure for a big bad wolf like him. for once, he listened and steered clear of you, no matter how pretty you were.

until you signed up to be his teachers assistant.

now with the close proximity, logan is tortured by your scent. the sweet cherry he's become familiar with haunts his deepest thoughts. he could perfectly trace every outline on your body without even trying. honestly, he found it quite sickening how you've carved your spot in his mind.

next to him on the mattress are a pair of your panties from yesterday. he remembered seeing the slight flash of light blue from under your skirt when you dropped your pen in the hallway. there's a damp patch on them, calling his name in mocking tones.

"logan..?" your meek voice was barely audible behind the door. "can i please come in?"

a low growl hums in his chest at the sound of your voice. he wants nothing more than to let you inside and ravish you in the way he desires; but he doesn't want to scare you off.

"not now, sweetheart." he grunts almost as if he's in pain.

"a-are you okay?"

logan couldn't see you but he could picture your concerned face. scrunched eyebrows and wide bambi eyes, lips in a pout. god, he could just eat you up.

" 'm fine." his voice sounds rough, like a bark. he would never yell at you but he needed you to walk away because the feeling of his cock being suffocated in his jeans was killing him.

"alright." you whine. "see ya later then, lo."

soon enough he heard your footsteps down the hall, logan quickly strips himself of his black shirt, dark blue jeans and his boxers. without hesitation he reaches over to grab that panties he had taken from your hamper.

"fuck, smells so sweet." he groans, nose pressed against the soft soaked cotton as he tugs his throbbing cock. spreading the pearly beads of pre-cum.

with his senses clouded and a fire ignited in him, he kitten licks the patch, letting your slick dance on his tongue. picturing your legs wrapped around his head, how your tight hole would take his tongue or his fingers and the little noises that would escape you.

"that's my sweet pussy. all mine." logan mumbles possessively under his breath before spitting into the material and bringing it to his cock, using it to jerk off.

as his orgasm approaches, the fire intensifies; sweat dripping down his temples the faster his hand moves. abs also dripping in sweat as his chest rapidly moves up and down. mind swarmed with all the positions logan wants to put you in.

"s-shit." logan curses, clenching his teeth as his vision blurs and euphoria washes over him. ropes of cum spill all over his abs and happy trail, creating a sticky messy.

left alone and panting, covered in his release, logan's still unsatisfied. he knew there was only one thing that could fix this.

❀༉‧₊˚

it's near midnight when you finally hear logan leave his room. heavy boots heading towards the stairs, right by your room.

"where are you going, lo?" you ask, peaking out of your bedroom to catch him. he stops but doesn't acknowledge you. "gonna leave me here all alone?"

logan could've sworn that you would be asleep at this hour and he could leave to find some woman at the bar to help with his... situation.

"scott's around here somewhere." he dryly replies, trying to avoid your gaze.

"he left a few hours ago." you mumble, nervously messing with the bottom of your nightgown.

something was off about logan; you just couldn't figure out what it was. he wouldn't even look at you. had you done something wrong? was he upset with you? why was he avoiding you?

"i-is everything alright?" you ask, worried for the answer.

logan take a minute to respond, scratching the scruff on his face while he thinks. just because he looks strong doesn't mean he is internally. logan found his weakness in you. a woman he's known for a little over a year and yet you could bring him to his knees if you so pleased.

suddenly, logan turns and looks at you. he sucks in his breath sharply when he saw you dressed in a cute tiny white nightgown. logan was positive that you were the closest he will ever get to meeting an angel.

the material ends high up on your thighs and he swears that in this light he can see the outline of your nipples, watching how they pebble from the cool air in the hallway.

"it's just cravings." he finally answers, tearing his eyes off of your pretty shape.

the moment logan makes eye contact with you, you notice how the color changed from a light hazel to bordering black. he looked hungry. you've heard of this before, a feral state that mutants like him enter every six months or so and if you knew better, you would run.

"anything i can help you with?" you ask, batting your long lashes up at him.

"it's real dirty work, princess." logan warns, restraining himself from jumping at the opportunity.

"i don't mind." you tell him. in that moment, a familiar aroma hits him. "i wanna help you, logan."

normally, logan wouldn't let things get this far. sure, the two of you have made sly flirty comments in the past but it's never gone past just words.

he watches you walk back into your room, keeping the door open for him.

❀༉‧₊˚

your bedroom was damn near exactly how logan pictured it. soft earth toned colors, pretty sheets, messy desk with all the paperwork you two do together. most importantly, it smelled like you. not your perfume or whatever candle you lit earlier. this was different.

"logan..." your voice pulls him back to reality. "tell me what you want me to do."

so considerate. logan thinks to himself as he watches you sit with your knees against the mattress and look up at him like a dog looking at its owner, waiting for an order.

without a warning, logan crashes his lips against yours. it hot and messy how he almost swallows you whole. both of you have waited forever for this moment.

logan lays you flat on the mattress, not breaking the kiss. your teeth bite down on his bottom lip at the small thud. you go to whisper an apology but it's covered by logan's loud groaning.

he take this opportunity to grind against you, only covered in a pair of matching white panties. if he was in a clearer head space, he would've thought this was planned.

"u-uh, please." you whimper against his lips, lifting your hips a little to meet his.

it's quite cute how pathetic you look right now. struggling for more. logan latches his lips to your neck, leaving dark maroon bites behind as he moves further south.

at the waistband of your panties, logan nips at the skin on your hipbone, leaving behind a pretty mark to match the others. he craved to be closer to you. pressing his nose into the wet patch and inhaling sharply, grunting at your essence.

a loud squeal falls from your lips as you lazily try to push him away. too embarrassed by the lewd action. nonetheless, logan refuses to move until he's had enough. licking over the cotton and making out with your covered cunt.

"l-logan!" you gasp as he flips you over on your belly with your ass in the air.

the sound of the material ripping fills the room. this was better than logan could've imagined. the sight of your throbbing cunt as it cries for his attention, and only his.

"prettiest fuckin' pussy i've ever seen." he marvels under his breath. "gonna let me use it how i please, princess?"

"mhm." you nod, trying to look back at him. "it's yours, lo."

your words send him on a spiral, he sinks you down on his tongue so he can fuck you at his pace. exploring your walls and reveling in your taste. no dessert in the world could compare to you.

logan grinds against your mattress, desperately seeking relief. not that he's complaining. he's more than happy with his position; and so are you.

there will be bruises on your hips tomorrow, without a doubt because of how tightly logan's gripping your hips. keeping you right where he wants you to be.

"n-need more, please." you moan, fists balling up the sheets.

"what a greedy fuckin' baby." logan says, pulling off of a second to replace his tongue with two thick fingers, stretching you out for him.

pretty little 'uh, uh, uh's' spill from your lips every time you bounce back on logan's fingers. he's hypnotized by the way you manage to coat his finger with your slick. dripping down his palm and onto your sheets.

"look 'atcha, sweetheart." he mutters, doubtful that you can hear him over the obscene sounds coming from your pussy. "struggling to take my fingers. gotta stretch ya' for my cock. think you can take it?"

"mhm!" you answer, feeling a trail of kisses on the back of your thighs as logan speeds up his thrusts, locating your sweet spot with ease.

there's a warmth of pleasure that washes over you. it's different than anything else you've experienced. before you could even figure it out, you to gush all over logan's hand and the sheets.

"she's squeezing me so damn tight." he growls, watching as your pussy spasms from overstimulation, practically knocking the wind out of you. logan has to fight off cumming in his jeans as he licks up your release.

once logan allows you to catch your breath, you turn and say, "i've never um, never done that before."

"fuck." logan curses, smacking his palm down on your ass. "it won't be the last time tonight."

the sound of logan undoing his belt echos in the room. lining the head up to your entrance and slowly sinking into you. your eyes roll back into your head at the stretch. similar to a cat, you arch your back and purr at the feeling.

"f-feel so full." you moan as he picks up his pace.

"that's it, princess." he grunts, moving his hand down your back and wrapping it into your hair. "tell me how good it feels."

and you don't waste a single second to do so.

"you're s-so big, can feel you e-everywhere." you reply in between heavy breaths.

the hand wrapped in your hair tugs you forward so your back is against his chest. with his lips pressed against your ear, he mutters, "everywhere, huh?"

you nod, digging your nails into his thighs with each thrust. his other hand travels from your breast to your lower torso underneath the nightgown. your eyes shoot open as soon as he lightly pushes down.

"can you feel me right here?" he asks, slowing down his strokes for you to focus.

when you don't respond right away, the hand in your hair moves to your jaw, gripping it and angling your gaze down to the large bulge in your belly. you always knew logan was larger than the average man but you didn't even think this was possible.

"y-yes!" you whimper loudly, needing him to go faster.

logan's not religious by any means but in that moment, he wishes he could personally thank god for everyone being gone tonight. he can't imagine having to muffle your little moans right now while he starts pounding back into you.

"gimme kiss, please?" you whisper in between the lewd wet smacks of his heavy balls against your ass.

how could logan turn down his sweet girl? even while being ruined, you still managed to use your manners.

the two of you sloppily make out, exploring each other. he swallows all the whimpers you let out against his lips. except the one from when logan pulls back.

"what are you–?"

"open your mouth and stick out your tongue for me." logan demanded, staring down at you like a feral animal.

you obey, opening up for him like he asks. logan spits on top your tongue, feeling your tight cunt flutter around him. clenching at the taste of him.

"swallow." he says, watching you do so. "what a good girl."

"i'm so f-fucking close, lo." your head falls back against his shoulder as your vision turns white, stars behind your eye lids.

"me too." logan warns. " 'ya gonna let me fill you up, sweetheart? bet you wanna be full of me, to carry my seed? isn't that right?"

he knows you're too far gone, babbling incoherent sentences and soft pleas. the tiny, "mhm" and head nod give him the okay to cum inside you.

"s-shit!" he curses. "you're so tight, practically suffocating me, baby."

his orgasm triggers another for you, milking him until both of you are struggling for air. the room felt like the inside of a sauna and reeks of sex.

"got another one in you, pretty girl?" logan asks, slowly pulling out of you.

"y-yeah." you answer, letting him move you how he wanted.

logan slips your nightgown off of you and lays you down on your back again. this time fully taking in your form. every curve, dimple and scar. he makes sure to pay your breasts some attention, taking one in his mouth and massages the other, pinching and rolling your nipple until your whining. desperately you attempt to rub your pussy against his abs, gaining very little friction from it.

if he wasn't in this rut, he would've taken more time to appreciate this. next time he will.

you open up for him again and he slips in with ease. logan brings your thighs to your chest, folding you in half.

"harder, please." you beg, staring up at him with those wide eyes that he's a sucker for.

"i don't want to hurt you, baby." he grunts, trying to restrain himself.

"i can take it, lo." you tell him, stroking his cheek with your much smaller thumb. "i know you need it right now."

instead of answering with words, logan bends down and kisses you in a more tender way than before. as soon as he picks up his thrusts, you tug softly at his locks, making his hips stir and lose rhythm for a second.

"you like it rough, don't 'ya, princess?" he grunts in your neck while his thumb moves to rub circles on your clit. "fuck, my cum is just spilling out of you."

a tear rolls down your cheek, only further encouraging logan. licking up the salty tear before it falls off your skin. never in your life have you felt so dirty.

"please, need to feel you logan." you whimper and he knows exactly what you mean.

"don't worry, baby. i'm close." he says, feeling you flutter around him.

logan's gaze stays locked on where the two of you are connected, watching him slide in and out of you. almost drooling at the image of his cock in your stomach.

within minutes, you're soaking his cock like you did his fingers. slick landing all over logan's sculpted torso. your fingers gather some before bringing them to his lips, letting him lick them clean.

a loud animalistic growl signals his release, painting your walls again for the second time tonight.

both of you lay stuck together. neither ready to let go of each other just yet. on the floor, you notice something light blue peaking out of the back pocket of his discarded jeans.

"so that's where my panties went?" you giggle, capturing logan's attention.

"yeah..." his voice raspy and deeper than usual. "sorry 'bout that, sweetheart."

"it's okay." you reply. "but next time that you get these 'cravings', come to me and i'll help y–"

logan cuts you off on with the rock of his hips and the wet slosh of your ruined cunt. before you can even moan, he's grabbed your white panties next to you and shoves them in your mouth.

fuck, he should've come to you sooner.

– tags: @hazydespair @itsmemuffy @wolvndmouth @nightingale-slayer @melday0105 @collector-of-furby-furs @solistarrs @atomicmystery @milfsarefineashell @ohfourgotten @keerygal @shewolverinesworld @tezooks @spookysquids @llorentezete @actuallybridgetjones @planetxella @silversprings-mp3 @coocoocachewgotscrewed @lethallyprotected @laweona150 @sturnsvoid @emoevanafton @slowlikehoneyyy @ginnylupin @omnivirgo @shiv-r @buckyssugarchick @ayamenimthiriel @balariie @ssloveslogan @stabbedfawn @dxddyspup @leggomiegg0

[angelicsoka]

THE HAT RULE, t. owens

word count | 1.7k words

pairings | tyler owens x meteorologist!fem!reader

summary | where tyler owens decides to show the reader what the hat rule is. 

warnings | MINORS DNI!! 18+ ONLY!! HEAVY smut! reader doesn’t know the hat rule. not proofread. lowercase intended. 

a/n | first of all, sorry for disappearing, i've had NO motivation to write on here, but i saw twisters yesterday and seeing glen powell in a cowboy hat changed me as a person, and also gave me motivation to write. i’ve never written a full smut so i apologize if this sucks, i've stepped out of my comfort zone for this one.

the first time you had ever encountered a tornado was a memory you were sure to never forget. growing up in new york meant rain and snow but no tornadoes. so when traveling to nebraska on a field trip in high school, you were unprepared when the sirens sounded, sending everyone into a frenzy. you had watched as the rain pelted from the sky, a funnel forming up above. you were mesmerized as your teacher pulled you to safety, a sort of thrill tearing through  your body. from that moment on, you knew what you wanted to do. you went to college for meteorology, graduating near top of your class before going onto to work at a local news station. but it never quite settled the feeling that something was missing, until you stumbled across tyler owens’ youtube channel. 

tyler owens had become a sensation, a daredevil who did more than just chase the storms, he rode into them. and that seemed to heighten that need of a thrill. so, you hit him up and to your surprise, he replied. and what had started out as a week off of work to storm chase with the daredevil, turned to going part time at your job and joining him on the road.

that was a season ago, and now you were sat at a dingy bar, sipping a beer with tyler and the team. the man himself was sat on the stool next to you, nursing his own beer and listening to lily speak. you ignored the slight butterflies that entered your stomach as he laughed. you had learned to never mix work and love, but something about tyler had you questioning that lesson. he looked mighty fine in his blue jeans and button up, supporting a cowboy’s hat on his head. you noticed your beer was gone, standing up you turned to your crew.

“i'm gonna get another beer, can i get anyone anything?” no’s were murmured around the group except for one.

“i could use another, how ‘bout i come with ya?” you shrugged, tyler getting up to walk with you. lily let out a low whistle, stopping at your glare. 

“be my guest.” you two walked over to the bar top, signaling the busy bartender. “can we get two more, when you get a sec?” the bartender nodded, going to make a few drinks before he could grab their bottles. 

“so, miss city girl, how you likin’ riding with us? ready to go back to the big apple yet?” tyler questioned, turning to look down at you slightly. damn the height difference.

“don’t think you’re getting rid of me that quick, i have a lot more storm chasing left in me, cowboy.” you winked, tyler laughing. you debated for just a moment before reaching up and taking the cowboy hat from his head.

“the hell you think you’re doing?” tyler questioned as you placed the hat on your own head, admiring your reflection on your phone.

“you wear this hat all the damn time, i just wanted to see if there was something special about it? maybe it has some magical powers or something.” the bartender came back around, beer bottles in hand. you thanked him, handing him some cash before turning back to tyler, who had an odd look in his eye. you quickly took off the hat, worried you had pissed him. you went to hand it back to him, when tyler shook his head:

“keep it on, it suits you.” tyler picked up his beer, beginning back to the table. the comment caused a light blush to dust your cheeks. shaking your head, you hoped it didn't show too much as you followed him back. you sat in your seat, confused by the odd looks you received from the crew. nobody said anything about the hat as the night went on, but that didn’t stop the odd looks.

by last call, it was you and tyler left of the crew. thankfully the bar was across the street from the motel, tyler paying the tab much to your protest, before setting off back to the motel. you had forgotten you still wore tyler’s hat upon your head, only remembering when you went to brush your hair from your eyes, your hand bumping the rim. “hey, do you know why everyone kept giving me weird looks after i put your hat on? and why boone and dani wouldn’t stop snickering?” tyler looked over to you as you climbed the stairs of the motel.

“you don't know?” you shook your head in response, tyler holding a bewildered look. “you don't know the hat rule?”

“there’s a hat rule?” tyler stopped at his door, which neighbors your’s and lily’s. “what?”

“you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.” he deadpanned, your eyes widening and a heavy blush coating your cheeks. 

“oh my god! i promise i wasn’t trying to imply that or anything. not there’s anything wrong with you, because you’re– well you’re you, and–”  you fumbled over your words, stopping mid sentence when tyler laughed.

“hey, it's fine. if you weren’t trying to insinuate that, that’s fine. but if you were, well, now's your chance. and i’d be more than happy to show you how that rule works.” tyler walked closer, a minimal amount of space between you, just enough to allow you to choose whether you close that gap or leave. 

you stood there for a moment, stunned at his offer. and without much thought, you closed the gap, hands going to grip his face and pull him closer to you. his hands moved to your hips, fingers digging into the fabric of your shorts. the kiss was feverish, all unspoken feelings surfacing. tyler began to pull away much to your dismay, one hand leaving your hip to fish out his keys from his pocket as he moved his other arm to hold your waist. he unlocked the door with ease, pulling you inside and shutting the door before pushing you up against it, the hat falling as he did so. he went to town on your neck, enticing soft moans and whimpers from your lips. the way he sucked at your neck and how he had previously handled you had conjured up a pool of wetness in your panties. 

your arm wrapped around his neck, holding him to your throat, as your fingers tugged at his hair. he groaned against your skin, biting down ever so softly when you tugged on his hair. he gripped at your leg, pulling it up to give him better access to your cunt. he rubbed his clothed cock along you covered cunt, pleased with the moans that escaped your mouth.

“god, keep moaning like that and i might have to take you right here.” you blushed once more, pulling tyler to meet your lips once more. you pushed off the door, lips still connected to tyler’s as you blindly pushed him back to the bed. his legs hit the edge of the bed, tyler breaking the kiss as he pulled off your shirt, both of you kicking off your shoes and socks before lips were reattached once more. 

you pulled back, tyler unbutton his shirt as you began to work on his belt buckle. “woah, easy, pretty girl. you’ll get a taste, don’t worry. the night’s still young. but for now, i gotta show ya what happens when ya wear the hat.” tyler pulled off his shirt, walking to pick up the forgotten hat, placing it on your head. “this stays on.” you nodded, eyes hooded as tyler pulled your shorts and panties down. “you’re even more perfect than i had imagined.” before you could question him, tyler pulled his jeans off, his boxers next as his cock sprung up. tossing them to the side tyler pulled you onto his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed, “you sure ‘bout this? i don’t have any condoms.” tyler asked, different from how he just was. you nodded, kissing him softly.

“i’m on the pill, and i trust you.” tyler nodded, holding over his cock as he slowly guided it along your pussy. you held yourself up as tyler’s thumb rubbing your clit, enjoying your whimpers. “please, tyler.” you begged, tyler aligning his cock with your entrance before guiding you down. you hand went your hat as your head rested on tyler’s shoulder, almost pornographic moans escaping from your lips. “oh my god.” he slowly eased himself into you, whispering praises as he did so.

“god, feels like you were made for me.” your cunt hugged his cock beautifully. when his cock was fully in, he allowed you to get used to the stretch, “tell me when you're ready.” you stilled for a moment, adjusting to his size. you kissed and sucked on his neck, slowly beginning to rock your hips. “fuck, let’s get this off of ya.” tyler’s hands skillfully unclipped your bra, tossing it to the side, fingers ghosting over your perky nipples. you pulled off his shoulder, giving him better access to your tits. “you’re fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’.” tyler attached his mouth to one of your nipples, enticing a soft moan. you continued to ride him, hips moving faster as you chased your incoming orgasm. your left hand gripped tyler’s shoulder, fingernails digging into his bare skin as your right hand held onto the hat that adorned your head. 

as your orgasm inched closer and closer, your movements became more erratic, chasing your high. tyler moaned, whispering praises as your walls clenched around his cock. he knew you were close, mouth moving to your pulse point as he pounded into you, taking over. tyler clapped a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit, muffling your screams so you didn't wake up your neighbors. his movements however did not slow as he worked you through your orgasm, chasing his own high. your legs trembled as he continued to pound into you, your second orgasm of the night approaching quickly. “fuck! fuck, ty-” you cut yourself off, body shaking as you hit your climax once more. tyler began to huff and moan, pulling you impossibly closer as he reached his own high. you blubbered, unable to form actual words as tyler’s hands roamed your body. you pulled back, kissing him roughly.

“goddamn,” he helped you off his cock, helping guide you onto the bed, “think you’ll be able to handle a round two?”

“don’t go thinking you can get rid of me that easily.” 

[lovelybucky1]

Ain’t as Good as I Once Was

warnings: old man!logan x AFAB!reader, riding, bratting, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, age gap, punishment, degradation, 18+ minors dni, divider from @strangergraphics

“C’mon, girlie, if you want it, you’re gonna have to take it yourself,” Logan’s gruff voice says from below you.

You’re sitting on his lap, trying desperately to fuck yourself on his cock as he sigs back and watches you. Despite your begging, Logan refuses to do the work for you.

“I’m too old for this shit. If you’re that fuckin’ horny, you can take care of it yourself,” he told you smugly.

You sank down on his cock and have been trying to bounce on it, but the strain on your thighs is too much to reach a satisfying pace.

“Please, Daddy, can’t you just fuck me?” you whine pathetically. Logan smirks a bit and chuckles through his nose.

“I ain’t as good as I once was, dollface. I doubt my old bones can fuck you the way you want me to,” he says, not seeming apologetic in the slightest.

You know he’s full of shit. He may be old and gray, but his healing factor keeps him in peak condition. He’d be able to fuck you just fine, he’s just a crotchety old man who wants to see you suffer for his entertainment.

He places a large hand on your hip and starts gently guiding you, urging you to rock back and forth. You follow his movements and while it’s better than what you were attempting, it’s still not what you want.

“You’re a spoiled fuckin’ princess, that’s the problem. So used to Daddy takin’ care of ya, you forgot how to ride, is that it?” Shamelessly you bite your lip and nod.

You wouldn’t call yourself spoiled. Well cared for is a better term. Logan never lets his girl go to bed unsatisfied, and now he’s suffering from the consequences of his actions.

“C’mon, flip me over and fuck me,” you say.

Logan raises an eyebrow at you.

“Who do you think you are, givin’ orders? If I want you to ride my cock, then that’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna fuck that pretty pussy with it until she’s had her fill.”

Logan lets go of your hip but you keep up with the same pace he set. With his hand now freed, he reaches over to the nightstand to grab his cigar and lighter. He lights up and smokes it as if he were at the bar, not in bed, deep inside his girl.

He looks up at you, bored, as smoke pours out of his mouth. You’ve been riding the edge of just enough for the past fifteen minutes and you’re getting increasingly frustrated with Logan’s lack of help. You briefly consider being more of a brat in hopes of egging him on enough to punish you with a hard fuck, but with the kind of mood he’s in, it’s likely that the punishment would be stopping entirely.

You let your head hang down as you brace yourself with your hands on his chest. The solid muscle covered in gray hair is hot, unnaturally so, under your touch and you desperately want to feel that heat on your back while he fucks you from behind.

“Daddy,” you plead quietly.

“What’s the matter, dollface?” he asks, playing dumb like the tease he is.

“I can’t do it.”

Logan smirks around his cigar like you just said the magic words he’s been waiting to hear this whole time.

“What’re you saying?”

You pout down at him. “I can’t make myself cum. I need you to do it for me”

Logan, surprisingly, grins at you. “Bet you regret calling me an old man now, huh?”

You furrow your brows in confusion, but you quickly realize what he’s talking about. Before this all started, you pounced on his lap and asked him to fuck you. He told you he was busy reading his book, and in your usual bratty fashion, you replied, “What, you can’t get it up, old man?”

“I didn’t mean it, Daddy,” you whine. “I swear, I was just teasing you.”

Logan hums but makes no effort to move. “Guess you better start behaving if you want something from me.”

“I promise I’ll be good. I won’t talk back anymore,” you attempt to bargain.

You both know that’s about as empty of a promise as you could give, but Logan doesn’t seem to care. He prefers when you’re trouble anyway; it’s the game you play. He’s the grumpy and mean and you’re the spoiled, demanding princess.

Logan stubs his cigar out in the ashtray on the nightstand and places both hands on your hips. He lifts you off of him with ease, something that never fails to amaze you, and sets you on the bed next to him.

He moves so he’s kneeling between your legs and holding them up around his waist, his cock lined up at your entrance.

“Spoiled fuckin’ rotten, you are,” he mutters as he pushes inside.

Logan always makes sure his girl goes to bed satisfied, no matter how much of a brat she is.

[fatelcved]

we turn the page to a new chapter | @altrxisme liked this post!

fate is a funny woman -- or an absolute asshole, as yuzusa has come to know her. it would be just her luck that some poor rando glitches into her dining room. it would be just her luck that they would land in the cupcakes ( thankfully not yet iced ) that were cooling on the table. it would be just her luck that the hour is late, and she hasn't slept for nearly 24 hours.

man, she needs a smoke.

" you okay there? " she asks, half-concerned and half-annoyed. she really doesn't feel like taking a trip to spider society right this second, but it's inevitable that that's where her night will lead. " that looked like it hurt. "

[endlessthxxghts]

Biology

“Uncle”!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 5.4k

Summary: Joel hurt his back at work, so you've been helping him around the house until he heals.

Content/Warnings: able-bodied, female sex anatomy, and inherently fem!reader. No description of reader, everything is neutral (ex. “your bottoms,” “the curve of you” — nothing is specific in the way “you” are described). Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel in 50s). EXPLICIT MATERIAL PRESENT. HEED THE WARNINGS. WEIRD boundaries are crossed…you're not blood-related to Joel, but you were raised like you were. You call him “uncle.” Pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, etc.). Pussy pronouns (she). Innocent touches until it isn't. Sexual tension galore. Slight dub-con. Icky Joel. Icky reader. Pussy grinding. Dirty talk. Slight degradation (“bitch” is used only once). Multiple orgasms. P in V unprotected. Reader is on top. Lots of teasing about the nature of yours and Joel’s relationship. If there’s anything that should be up here but I missed or I made any improper tags, please let me know!

A/N: Hi, my loves! This is slightly different than what you’re used to coming from me… All I can say is, you’ve read the warnings! Don’t bite if it is not your flavor! But for those who do like, I really hope you enjoy! And to my love @strang3lov3, thank you for prompting this and encouraging this side of my brain to finally stop hiding in the shadows. And thank you for your eyes on this and the mood board as well. I love you.🩶

masterlist | notifs blog

“Hey, hon, when you headin’ over to uncle Joel’s?”

You glance at the timer on the oven. “In about ten minutes after these cookies cool. Need something from me?”

“Can ya grab my toolbox before ya leave? Forgot it there the other day,” he replies. “Figured you could get it since you’re already goin’ there today.”

“Sure thing. It’s not the heavy one, is it? Because I don’t know if that old man’s back is ready for a heavy lift like that yet.” The timer on the oven beeps. You slide on your oven mitts to pull the tray out. “Made two batches by the way. How many you want? I’m taking some to Uncle’s, too.” 

About a week ago, Joel had a contracting accident. Some newbie wasn’t watching the older man’s back as Joel climbed up a wobbly ladder, and the next moment, Joel’s footing slipped. He landed right on his lower back, a piece of wood perched on the ground, sitting at just the right spot on the floor to render him immobile. Tommy, Joel’s younger brother, and your father, his best friend since before you were born, are the only two Joel trusts to get the job done perfectly, so Joel put them two in charge until he heals. 

Bed rest, the doctor had ordered Joel, for at least three weeks. It’s been one so far, but with you offering to be his nurse — one that forces him to stay in bed unless he needs to eat or use the restroom — he thinks he just might be back to work by next week. If you’ll let him, that is. 

“No, it’s the small one, hon, you got it,” your father reassures you. He lovingly slaps his growing belly as the trays hit the kitchen counter. “Y’know, darlin’, ever since you moved back, I’ve been gainin’ some weight. Can’t imagine what you’re doin’ t’ Joel over there.”

Your lip pulls up in a smirk. “Joel is in good hands, y’know. And technically, I don’t have to leave you any,” you say with a challenging brow, pulling the cookie trays out of his reach. 

“No, no, I’m not sayin’ that,” your father’s eyebrows raise in worry. His daily cookie is very important to him. “You can leave me like… five… or six.” 

“I’m just gonna leave you a whole batch. The six are gonna be gone before I even leave the house,” you tell your father as his hand subconsciously reaches for the cookie tray. 

He scoffs, “Ya have no faith in me.”

“So what’s in your hand already?”

“Whatever,” he mumbles, walking away with a mouthful of warm cookie dough and melted milk chocolate chips. 

“Uh huh,” you yell back. “Gonna be leaving in just a sec. I’ll see you later.”

It takes less than ten minutes to get to your uncle’s house. You unlock the door using the spare key he gave you as a teenager, and immediately, nurse mode is activated. 

“Uncle Joel!” You yell, exasperated. He turns around from his place in the kitchen, painfully slow. He’s going to make his back worse. “What do you think you’re doing?” You place the fresh cookies on his dining table along with your keys. You cross your arms angrily for good measure. 

“My coffee’s cold. I was warmin’ it up,” he huffs, annoyed.

“Bed, please.” Your hands find his waist, and you guide him back to his room. “You know I’m here around this time. You didn’t wanna call me first to see where I was?”

You ease him in a sitting position at the edge of his bed. He grunts as his ass meets the mattress. He grumbles his response. “Need to start gettin’ back to everythin’ independently, y’know that, don’tcha?”

“Is your memory going with your back, too, unc?” 

“‘Scuse me?” He looks at you incredulously. 

“Three weeks were the doctor’s orders. Not one,” you tell him, putting your foot down. 

He lays himself down with another wince at the motion, no acknowledgement to your words. God, he’s so stubborn. 

“I’ll go make you a fresh cup,” you tell him, feeling sympathetic for the man. His work is his life, and it’s not going to get any easier with age. 

Making your way back to his kitchen, you wash out the coffee pitcher, replace the grounds and the filter, and do some light cleaning as you wait for the bitter, brown liquid to brew. 

It’s only been five minutes since you returned to the kitchen, and the painful moans and groans from his bedroom have only gotten louder. You search around the place and find the heat pack you bought a few days ago and pop it in the microwave. You grab some pain meds, fill up a glass of water, and just in time, the microwave sings to you, telling you your contents are ready. 

Ignoring the coffee for a moment, you make your way back to Joel’s bedroom. His eyes are closed, but his entire body is tensed up in pain. Poor guy. You knock at his door to catch his attention before entering. “Unc?”

One eye peels open. “Yes, nurse?”

“Funny.” A sarcastic laugh leaves your throat. “Come take these.”

He makes no move to get up. 

You set the painkillers and the water on his bedside table, the heat pack wedged underneath your armpit. You start to reach for Joel to help him up, but he stops you. “I got it,” he grunts. You let him have this win. 

You hand him the glass of water first, then the pills. He swallows the painkillers in one big gulp, swallowing down the rest of the water in another. He eyes the heat pack in your arm. 

“Do you want-”

“Yes,” he says immediately, reaching for the soft warmth. 

“Lay down first, I’ll put it underneath you.”

Without another word, he positions himself. His body jerks when your soft hand slips underneath his back, pushing him to lift a little while you slide the heat underneath. “This okay?”

“Mhm,” he forces out, eyes clamped shut. It’s not okay, you think. 

“How would you feel on your stomach?” you suggest. 

“Dunno. Never tried.”

“Well, then.” You set the heat pack down, and it’s your turn to crawl, uninvited, into his bed. You walk on your knees towards the opposite, unoccupied side, adjusting the pillows in a way you think might be the most comfortable. This isn’t your first rodeo dealing with an old man’s back; you’ve got your dad. This is, however, your first rodeo dealing with an old man more stubborn than a screaming goat not getting his way. “Come on.”

“No.” 

“What do you mean no?” 

“That ain’t gonna be comfortable.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and take a deep breath. “I swear to God. I will flip your ass over myself if I have to.”

“You’re bossy,” he spits.

“So you’ve said.” 

Not giving him a chance to prepare, you hook your one hand at his side and your other on his hip, and you pull him towards you. It doesn’t fully flip him over, but it does the trick in getting him to finish the rest of the action himself — albeit, with a very strained yelp from the back of his throat. 

He groans for a few minutes more as you adjust some flat pillows underneath his belly and then prop the lukewarm heating back right at the base of his spine. You’ll probably have to heat it up in ten minutes again, but it’ll do for now. You stay in your spot for a minute, and already his pained noises begin to subside. 

“Better?” You know it is. You just want him to admit it. 

And when a single huff with zero protests from the grumpy man reverberates around the room, you know you’ve won this round. 

“I’ll go get your coffee now,” you hum. 

A soft rasp of your name has you spinning back around as you reach the room’s threshold. 

“Hm?”

“Thanks,” he tells you. 

“It’s what I’m here for, unc.”

You put his fresh cup of coffee in a thermos this time. You can’t imagine how often he’ll get up being in this position, but at least the freshness will be there with every sip he does end up taking. 

“How’s it going?” You ask him as you set his coffee nearby. You feel the heat pack on his spine, and it’s as you called it to be by now: room temperature. “Want me to reheat it?” 

“‘M okay,” he replies, voice groggy. He must’ve fallen asleep. 

“Okay.” You stand there for a moment. You can tell the heat helped, but his body isn’t entirely relaxed. He’s still tense, as if a nerve or something is being pinched. 

You recall your memory from a while ago before you moved back with your dad. Your brother, who is a mixed martial arts athlete, had a sparring session that hurt his back, nearly in the same area as Joel. He had you running his massage gun over his muscles nearly every night for a month straight. “It needs to uncoil somehow,” he told you. An idea crosses your mind then. 

You saunter to Joel’s en suite bathroom in search of some type of lubricant. Sitting loud and proud on the center of the bathroom counter is a little bottle of Equate’s Personal Liquid Lubricant. Your brain falters for a second, the bottle of lube throwing you off your original plan. That is absolutely not the kind of lubricant you were looking for. Shaking away the image from your mind, you bend down to look in the cabinets underneath. Bingo, a bottle of Aveeno body lotion. This should do. 

You invite yourself onto his bed for the second time today. “Let me give you a massage.”

“What?” His head turns to you now, utterly confused. He definitely heard you wrong, he thinks. 

“Let me give you a massage,” you repeat. “It’ll help.”

A massage actually does sound nice right now. But you’ve been nothing but bossy this last week while Joel lays here helplessly. He’s bored. And he’s had enough. “It ain’t gonna help.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

Jesus. Haven’t you had this conversation before? You mentally slap your forehead. Again, leaving him no other options, you reach for his flannel atop his shoulders and begin to pull them down. 

“Hey, hey, wait, now what in the hell-” He tries to stifle back a laugh as he wriggles in your hold, trying to playfully push you off without hurting himself more in the process. 

You quickly release his clothes, hands up in surrender where he can see them. You’re just realizing now just how forward your action must’ve been. “How am I gonna massage you-” 

The embarrassment written all over your face has Joel tearing up as he tries to hold his wheezing laugh in. With his eyebrow quirked at you, he responds, “If you wanted me naked, kiddo-”

“Jesus, ew! Really?” An unbearable heat spreads across your cheeks. Your eyes are downcast, looking everywhere else but him. “It- it’ll be better if I can directly touch-”

Only then do you feel the bed shaking with his laughter. He’s fucking with you. And here you were, about to offer something that would relieve a whole lot of pain. “Oh, fuck you,” you scoff, pulling yourself up and making your way off of his bed. 

“No, okay, wait,” he laughs, trying to catch his breath. “Jus’ messin’ with you, who am I to deny a massage?” He raises his eyebrows once, twice. Still messing with you, seeing how far his taunting with you can go. 

“You’re disgusting,” you deadpan. 

“‘M not the one tryin’ t’ massage her uncle,” Joel says as he attempts to shrug his shoulders at you.

“I’m gonna leave now.” One foot makes it to the ground before Joel speaks again. 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, ya can’t take a joke? I’m only messin’ around. Come back. Gonna leave me hangin’? In pain? C’mon, nurse.” His tone falls softer, sweeter. You can hear the shit-eating grin in his words. And, fuck, why is it making you heat even further, in places beyond your face? In places you shouldn’t be?

“Fine,” you relent. “Stop saying weird shit then.” You still can’t look at him. Not after the way your body decided to react in the shift of energy. An abrupt shift of energy, as far as you can tell. 

He’s your dad’s best friend. Your uncle, for crying out loud. Not by blood, but still. There’s never been a feeling beyond that. Sure, you’ve had your silly little school girl crush on him during your young teenage years, but that was your hormones being your hormones. You grew out of them. Even your own father can’t deny the conventional attractiveness of his best friend. 

Plus, suggestive commentary is bound to make anyone feel hot. It’s basic biology. Your response is nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. At least, that’s what you convince yourself of when you climb back into your uncle’s— no, into Joel’s bed, trying to ignore the way your panties stick dutifully against your throbbing core.

Joel leans onto his side as you get yourself situated, unbuttoning the bottom half of his flannel, so you can flip up the bottom to reach his lower back. After the bottom half of the buttons are undone, he lays back on his front. “Here,” he calls your name. “Jus’ lift it up from the bottom.”

You scoot closer to him, standing on your knees, and you reach over to grab the hem of his flannel, pulling it up as gently as possible, exposing just enough to be able to reach the irritated areas. You frown at what you see. Inflamed skin, purples and yellows dancing all across his lower back, forcing him away from the very thing he lives for. He may have been a stubborn bitch this entire week, but that doesn’t stop the sympathy you feel for the man. 

You put some of the lotion in your hand, rubbing it between your two palms to warm it up a little. You place your hand on the side closest to you first, moving in circular motions and adjusting your pressure ever so often. “Let me know when the pressure is good.”

So far he hasn’t said much, a slight groan here, an exhale there. You feel a knot as you move lower, so you increase your pressure. You’re met with a literal moan, and you swear you have to bite back your own vocal response. “Fuck,” he sucks in a sharp breath. “Yeah, jus’ like that, ‘s perfect, darlin’.” 

“Okay,” you squeak, your thighs clenching together to attempt any kind of relief to the heat between your legs. 

After a few more passes over the area — and a few more indulgent, harder presses of your palm to pull more angelic sounds from him — you switch to the other side. Except, at this angle, you don’t really have as good an angle as you did before. Your leg swings over his ass, bracketing him in between your thighs, before you can even register the move your body just made. A soft gasp falls from your lips as you feel the new angle you’ve just given yourself. 

“Joel?” You call sweetly. Innocently.”I- I’m not hurting you or anything, am I?”

Hurting? No. Putting him through Hell? Close enough. 

Joel has done many questionable things in his lifetime. Getting involved with taken (married or otherwise) women, couples who wanted a third… Joel has lived through it all. Mainly in his younger years, but nevertheless. He has done and seen many things. But none of these things have ever included getting a fucking hard on for a girl — a woman? — he practically had a hand in raising. You call him uncle, for crying out loud. 

His physical response means nothing. It’s basic biology. The tender yet skilled touch of your warm hands directly against his even hotter skin, lighting every single nerve ending on fire, forcing the blood to course through his veins, to make its way down south— 

“Christ-” he snarls as you practically sit on him. His mouth shuts instantly as his eyes shoot open. He didn’t mean for that to come out. “Y-yeah,” he corrects. “‘M alright.” 

“Just- just let me know,” you tell him. He can hear the shake in your voice. He can tell biology is doing a number on you, too, based on your tone alone, if the heat engulfing his rear as you try your best not to make contact with it isn’t enough to go by. 

He focuses on his breathing as best he can as your hands push slightly past his jeans, getting underneath the seam of his boxers, and then immediately softening your touch as you run your fingers up his spine, awaking a chill he never knew was possible until now. You rub beyond the exposed area of his lower back, reaching his shoulder blades and entirely up to his shoulders, forcing the flannel to rise with your hands. He’s so broad and warm, and you would absolutely be drooling all over him by now if you weren’t so shocked at how tight his muscles really feel. How has this man not gotten any injuries sooner? How was he still doing all this heavy lifting? You dig the pads of your finger tips further into the thousands of tiny knots you feel, and his body jerks in actual pain this time. 

“God damn, girl,” he snaps. “What are you doin’?” 

“How the fuck do you even function?” You sound genuinely horrified. 

“What-”

“Your shoulders and neck are fucking covered in knots how do you even-” you cut yourself off with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You need to flip over.” 

Fuck. 

“Why?” He asks defensively. 

“I’m gonna break these knots. I need to start from the front.” 

“Ya ain’t gettin’ anywhere near my neck, I swear to God-”

“Quit being stubborn. What did I say earlier? I’m gonna flip you myself if you don’t-”

“Alright, fine, gimme a sec,” he bites. Joel takes a deep breath, at war with himself for how he’s going to handle his next course of action. 

Whatever happens next, there is no avoiding the fact that you will be made aware of the bulging erection between his legs. You can know about it, that’s fine, but the second you make contact, he doesn’t know if he’ll have the strength to control himself. Which is why he rips off the band aid quick. Flipping himself over with you still hovering over him, he tries his best not to touch you. Though, the second he’s comfortable, his focus is on your waist, grabbing you immediately and missing the way your eyes widen at the tenting fabric of his jeans. He pulls you higher up to sit on his lower tummy. 

You squeak out a little gasp as he adjusts you, and fuck it makes the pulsing between his legs even worse. He releases you, bringing his hands back to his sides. 

“Comfortable?” you whisper. You try so hard not to use your voice, worried that it’ll reveal just how turned on you are by this situation you’ve put yourself in. He gives you a single nod, and with that, you lean to grab more lotion. 

The angle you are at forces you to lean the front of your body onto Joel to be able to reach his shoulders. You can feel his body tense underneath you; you can hear his labored breathing as your hands further push away his flannel, working away at each knot. 

You lean forward further, giving yourself the ability to reach just below Joel’s neck. With this action, your hips shift, pressing down against Joel’s belly in a way that sends a sudden jolt of butterflies through your core. Your hands freeze in their movement, breath and fingertips stuttering as your entire face and neck heat up. You sneak a quick glance to Joel, and his eyes are still relaxed. He didn’t notice. 

It takes you a moment to start your movements back up again, but when you do, you can’t help the way you repeat exactly what you did before — allowing yourself another experimental roll of your hips against his soft abdomen. Only this time, you’re way less sly, for the whimper of pleasure you thought you could hide slips right out, right for his sharp ears to take note of. Shit. 

“Y’ alright there?” His eyes are trained on you now; he knows what you just did. Joel sports a quirked eyebrow as he waits for your response. 

“Mhm,” you rush out, ignoring his piercing gaze. 

It takes every ounce of willpower for you to run over the knots in his shoulder again without driving your hips into him, but even the push and pull of your arms is a full body movement, and you feel it. You feel the growing wetness in your core, the growing heartbeat that his bare tummy no doubt can feel now. 

Your body is splayed across him, the warmth of you leaking through your bottoms and onto his hot skin as you pathetically try to play off the fact that you aren’t grinding your wet cunt across him right now. With a rasp of your name, he takes a sharp breath in. “What are ya doin’?” He grunts, pained. Conflicted. 

This is so wrong. But it feels so good. Your arousal — how utterly desperate you are for the older man underneath you — is shone all over your face, brighter than any other feeling of disgust or wrongness you’re trying to convince yourself of. But the internal battle is still there, though, and it forces your hips to come to a full stop. It forces cries of apologies from your lips. It forces regret. 

“I- I’m sorry,” you choke back a sob. “Please, I- this is so wrong, I’m so stupid, uncle, I-” 

God damn it. Joel is too damn hard to deal with this shit now. “Oh, Jesus Christ, will you cut the fuckin’ uncle bullshit?” He finally snaps. His hands spring to life, finding their way up your thighs, tightening once they reach your hips. He forces you to move again. “Ya think I wanna hear that fuckin’ word while you fuckin’ soak me? Huh? While ya rub on me like a fuckin’ bitch in heat?”

“Shit,” you moan, the strength of his hand making the assault against your mound all the more intense. “Joel, please,” you cry, your fingers shaking as you hold onto his chest. 

Your thighs begin to tremble as he maintains a rough pace to your movements, his bed creaking with every shove of your hips against him. His grip on you is one of steel, the pads of his fingers digging into your flesh, no doubt leaving tiny bruises as a reminder of today’s actions. 

He is fucking covered in you — the slick of your desire pooling through your bottoms and into his skin, making each grind smoother. He licks his lips at this, his eyes dark as he drinks you in from above; your own eyes glossy and a sheen of sweat along your skin. “Look at ya, darlin’,” he murmurs, voice low enough to send a fresh wave of arousal pouring from your hole. “Fuckin’ soakin’ me, baby. Needed me that bad, did ya? Was tryin’ t’ tell ya earlier,” he grunts, “Y’know ya just had to ask.” A lazy smirk pulls across his lip. 

You let out a whimper at his words, your hips finally rolling alongside his own guidance, instinctively searching for more friction. “Atta girl,” he groans, “That’s it, fuck- makin’ a fuckin’ mess a’ me, darlin’.” 

You’re panting now, the rhythm and pressure mixed with the filth of his Southern drawl ignites every single nerve ending throughout your body. He watches you with a dark intensity, the brown of his eyes replaced with pure black lust, his eyes unable to stray away from the pleasurable desperation filling your features. 

“Gonna come like this, sweetheart?” He taunts, driving you into him even harder. 

“Mmm- my God, yeah- yes,” you cry out, eyes rolling back as the coil in your belly finally tightens, your breathing ragged as needy moans escape your lips. 

With a final roll of your hips and the utterance of a that’s my girl, the coil finally snaps, pleasure crashing over you, coursing through your veins as you come all over him, your slick unable to stay within the limits of your clothes, leaking and dripping down the sides of him and onto the mattress below. Your thighs convulse around his waist, his hold on you continuing your thrusts, dragging out your orgasm until your own hands find his and rip him away from you.

“Ya ain’t done yet, sugar,” Joel gruffs, grabbing the globes of your ass cheeks and dragging you down, letting you feel his ignored and now raging erection. 

“Never said I was,” you purr, a soft moan blessing his ears at the feel of his bulge against your ass. He can feel your smirk against his chest. 

Body still trembling, Joel lifts your ass in the air, sliding your bottoms down over the curve of your body. The stickiness of your panties pulls off with a wet squelch, the cool air of the room mingling with the wet warmth of your bare pussy, the stark contrast forcing chills to run through your veins. 

“God,” he murmurs as you give a little wiggle of your ass in the air. “Pretty as a peach, huh, darlin’?” He guides you lower, pushing you down onto his bulge. The hardness of him beneath you immediately sends a fiery need to your core. Your hands move on their own as you pull your body up, reaching for the buttons and zipper of his jeans, undoing them with ease despite the eager shake of your hand. You pull the jeans down just enough to let his cock spring free, thick and angry and leaking. 

“Oh, fuck,” you swallow your gasp. “God, I need you so bad,” you whine, already lifting up to line the tip of him to your swollen cunt. 

You sink down with a breathless moan, your head flying back as your hands grip onto his tummy to keep you from buckling. 

Joel’s breathing stutters, his moans filling the air as you practically choke his cock. “Shit- so fuckin- fuckin’ tight.” His hands find their home on the meat of your ass, holding you tight, grounding himself from coming like a damn teenager.

You move slowly at first, savoring the way he feels inside of you, how big he is. God, you don’t think you’ve ever taken anything quite as long and as thick as him. Your heart skips a beat at that, knowing that he’s ruined you for anyone else. 

It isn’t long before the raw need takes over, and you move faster, hips rolling back and forth as you ride him, the wet sound of skin against skin as you alternate to a bounce ever so often. 

Despite the risk of hurting his back even more, he can’t stop himself from gripping you tighter, his nails digging into your flesh as his hips buck up into you, starting their own rhythm, meeting every one of your thrusts. The sensation is overwhelming with the size of him; it’s a perfect mix of pleasure and pain, mixing sweet whines of ecstasy with whines of overstimulation, and it’s the best music to have ever graced his ears. 

“Look at ya,” he grunts. “Fuckin’ made for this, weren’t ya? Fuckin’ made for takin’ this cock, huh, sweetheart?” 

You nod weakly at his words. They send a flutter down your belly to your pussy, and his mouth is all it takes to send you to your second brink of collapse — your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you move, as he drives himself into you without abandon. 

Every thrust pushes you further to the edge, the sting of the stretch, the sensation of being so full — it’s almost too much to bear. He can hear it in the way your cries change. It’s becoming too much. 

“Y’ can take it, sweetheart, almost there,” he grunts. His hands take over in guiding your movements, urging you faster, harder, bringing you both to the cliff’s edge. 

“C’mon, baby, can feel her squeezin’ me, know she wanna come, baby. Breathe, doll, jus’ let go,” he rasps, his words coming in staggered.

The wet tightness of your walls, both the feel and the sound, causes Joel to fall first — a low, guttural groan filling the room as he fills you with his hot, thick spend.

The sensation of him pulsing inside you, unloading everything he’s worth, sends you over your edge, your pussy clenching around his cock as you come, the sensation rippling through you, shredding your vocal cords as you scream out in pleasure. 

Everything goes dark for you, nothing but the fuzzy sound of Joel’s sweet praises at the top of your head as he guides you through your come down. 

“Did so fuckin’ good f’ me, darlin’,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl.”

For an asshole, who knew he could be so sweet? 

You roll off of Joel as soon as your heart steadies, your entire body on fire from all the exertion. You can feel Joel’s body stiffen as you use him for support. His back is killing him right now.

A few moments pass as your eyes slowly start to close, but the deep gruff of your name stops you from dozing. 

You turn your head to the man beside you. “Yes?” 

For the first time today, it’s Joel who can’t make eye contact with you. “Can you, uh… can you-” he clears his throat, trying to rid himself of his awkwardness. “Can you warm up the heat pack again?” 

Your smirk lifts your cheek before you can even try to stop it. “Come again?” 

He lets out a frustrated huff. And he can’t turn away from you. His back is killing him right now. “My back-”

“Yeah, what about your back?” 

“You fuckin’ little shit-”

You giggle as you flip onto your side, your hand holding your head up to get a better look at him. “Your back is hurting, baby? Need me to get the heat pack for you, hm?” 

He doesn’t respond. He just has the deepest, most grumpiest scowl known to man on display. 

“Oh, come on. You need my help, is that it? Need to hear you say it, unc.” You emphasize the last syllable of your sentence, a belly laugh threatening to escape you. 

Oh, two can play at that game. “Yeah, baby, I need your help. I need the help from my beautiful, beautiful niece, hm? My beautiful, needy niece whose pussy gets all soaked jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout me, huh? Gets all wet and needy thinkin’ ‘bout her uncle-”

Your resolve finally snaps, your eyes clamping shut as you cover your ears, loud la la la’s coming from your mouth as you ungraciously roll yourself off of his bed. “Enough, fine! Fine! Fuckin’ nasty,” you groan as you make your way to the kitchen. 

“‘M not the one who started it, sweetheart,” Joel says, a triumphant smile plastered across his cocky face. 

“I made you cookies by the way,” you yell after a beat. “Want one?” 

Joel’s hand reaches for his belly. He doesn’t need one, that’s for sure. “Yeah,” he responds not a second later. 

You come back to his bedroom, heat pack in one hand, no cookie in the other. You hand him the heat pack. You make him adjust it himself. 

“Where’s the cookie?” He asks, a tinge of impatience on his tongue. 

“Oh, I thought you were gonna come down and get it.” 

He looks at you incredulously. 

“I just figured you wanted to start being more independent and all. Given how strenuous you were being a few moments ago,” you offer with a faux innocence.  

“I swear to fuckin’ God, when I get my hands on you-”

“Your hands on me? Yeah? When?” You start making your way out of his bedroom. “Come get me if you wanna show me a lesson. Know you been dying to all week.” 

If he can fuck you the way he did, maybe full-time bed rest isn’t what Joel needs. He needs to stretch and move around; he needs to activate his muscles, especially being on the older side. It really is basic biology.

I would absolutely love to hear what you guys thought of this! Any and all your love and commentary truly keeps me going and motivated even when the writer’s block is at its strongest. Wouldn’t be here without you all. I have so much love in my heart for you! Talk to y’all soon🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

Leaf divider by @saradika-graphics

[mypoisonedvine]

𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿 | eddie munson x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | based on a request from the lovely @ultraintrovertedgryffindor ; getting stuck in an elevator with his best friend (and secret crush) was absolutely not on eddie's morning agenda, but it leads to one of his most wild fantasies coming to life.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 3.8k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | SMUT (18+ only!! semi-public sex, oral m receiving, kinda pervy eddie but also slightly pervy reader with a balls fixation gee I wonder where that idea came from), best friends to lovers (but very very limited plot haha), pretty much exactly what it says on the tin y'all not sure what to say

Eddie laughed as he pressed his hands to the elevator doors, but it wasn't a laugh of amusement— it was exasperation, frustration, an is this really happening? laugh.

"Soonest we can get a crew out there is uhh... noon?" the voice on the emergency phone informed you.

"Noon?!" you yelped. "It's not even half past eight!"

"What did I tell ya?" Eddie recalled, hanging his head in defeat for a second. "Nothing good happens before ten."

"Just try to stay calm and we'll be there when we can," the operator suggested, like it was so simple.

You didn't even reply to that, just scoffed and hung up.

It wasn't like he'd been looking forward to his GED exam, in fact he'd almost been hoping for a way to put it off or get out of it... but this was definitely not what he was imagining. Of all the elevators to get stuck in, this generic government building where he was supposed to have his big test proctored was probably the most boring option.

He glanced over at you, and stopped himself from making a dirty joke: you heard that Aerosmith single, right? Love In An Elevator?

That probably wouldn't have gone over well. He used to say stuff like that when you were both a little younger, but he'd since given up hope of it ever actually... inspiring anything.  You two were probably better off as friends anyways; or, that’s what he told himself to make it sting a little less.

“Looks like we’ll be stuck in here for a while…” he mumbled instead.  “Did they say what the issue is?”

“Some kind of power failure?” you recalled with a shrug.  “It’s gonna take a while to fix, that’s the important thing.  Do you think they’ll call the fire department?”

“Who knows,” Eddie sighed, leaning against the wall as you sank onto the floor and dropped your head back against the wall.  “I guess we should just try to get comfortable.”

Which was easier said than done, but at least he was stuck here with you— you were generally pretty fun to talk to.  Of course, you weren’t exactly in your best mood due to the circumstances…

At 8:32, Eddie checked his watch.  “I’m officially late for my exam,” he noticed.

At 9, you checked your own; “And I’m officially late for work.  We'll see if I even still have a job when we get out of here," you groaned. "I was on pretty thin ice already."

By 9:14, the stuffiness of the elevator was becoming harder to ignore.  Eddie slipped off his jacket and vest in response to the heat, but resisted the urge to take off his Ozzy shirt. You'd seen him shirtless before, of course, but he figured out would be weirder without the right context.

"Fuck, it's hot in here," you whined quietly.

"I guess the power issue affects the A/C, huh," Eddie noticed.

"You think?" you scoffed, reaching up to unbutton the top of your shirt.

For some reason, he kinda liked when you were condescending like that; of course he loved it when you were sweet like usual, but when you got frustrated and sarcastic and looked at him like he was crazy... for whatever reason, it worked for him. And it was definitely working like never before when combined with your hasty efforts to open your shirt.

He expected you to stop after a couple buttons, but you just kept going, exposing more and more of your chest glistening with sweat. His eyes were glued to it, until you got low enough for him to see a glimpse of your bra, and he coughed as he turned his head quickly.

"Woah, hey, uh--" he stammered out awkwardly.

"Oh whatever, you've seen me in a bikini, it's the same thing," you rolled your eyes.

But it's not the same thing, because you were stripping, untucking the button-up from your tight skirt, fanning your flushed skin...

And he was tugging the crotch of his jeans down a bit when you weren't looking, trying to keep his oncoming boner from being too obvious. 

Leaving your shirt open, you sighed and sat down on the floor, splaying your legs out on the ground.  He could see how uncomfortable you were, and it made him press his lips together while he sighed through his nose.  Though he was a little afraid you weren’t in the mood for any friendly behavior as your frustration and stir-craziness increased, he walked across the elevator and sat down next to you.  “I was probably gonna flunk the test,” he decided.

“What?  No you weren’t,” you scoffed.  “You studied so hard!  I’m really proud of you, you know.”

“Just ‘cause we’re stuck in here doesn’t mean you should get all sappy with me—” he started.

“No— ‘cause we’re stuck in here I’m not gonna put up with you trying to be down on yourself,” you decided sternly with a little glare at him.  “You were gonna fucking ace it, I know you were.  You worked your ass off.  I know you wanted to act like you didn’t care, but you actually got your shit together and did it.”

“You… you helped me a lot,” he mumbled sheepishly.

“Please, I hardly did anything— mostly just kept you from getting too distracted,” you denied, blissfully unaware that he actually found you more distracting sometimes, but never minded it.  “Can you stop being a pussy and just admit you’re actually smart, and dedicated, and more than capable of nailing this?”

He blinked quickly and looked down into his lap, feeling his face warm up— not just from the heat.  How could you be so mean and nice at the same time?  

“And now it’s gonna go to waste, ‘cause of this godforsaken elevator,” you sighed, dropping your head back; a pessimistic end to a pep talk, but he couldn’t blame you.

"Think of it this way: it couldn't get any worse!" Eddie offered with a faux-upbeat tone.

Right then, the lights in the elevator flickered and turned off, plunging you both into darkness. "I fucking hate you," you announced after a short silence.

He heard a whirring sound from somewhere else in the shaft, and a dimmer orange lighting came on inside the elevator; some kind of emergency back-up generator thing, probably. It was enough to see decently well, especially as his eyes started to adjust, but still made it feel like you were both in an even more perilous situation.

“I didn’t sleep enough last night,” you admitted, “I might try to catch up on that.  Maybe if I can sleep this will go by faster…”

“I like that plan,” he decided, even though he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to do the same.  Eddie had a hard time keeping still and quiet, but he managed to do it so you could get your rest.

He suspected you had fallen asleep when your breathing seemed to slow down a bit— but he knew you had when you limply slumped to the side, your head gently landing on his shoulder.  This happened every once in a while, a sign of how comfortable you were with him. He supposed he should be thankful for it, but sometimes it just made him furious. Because what cruel punishment was this, to have you lay on him like this when he can't put his arm around you and kiss your head and tell you how perfect you are?

The half-boner he’d wound up with earlier when you unbuttoned your shirt had never really gone away, and it noticed your proximity with renewed interest.  Maybe it was just because he was so bored with literally nothing to do but think about you, but his mind kept coming up with all these fucked up ideas based on the eyeful he’d gotten.  

What if you’d taken off your bra as well and let him see the tits he’d been fantasizing about for longer than he cared to admit?  What if this had happened in winter instead and the elevator was brutally cold and you two had to hold your naked bodies together for warmth?  What if that guy on the phone said this thing was airtight and two only had an hour to live and you decided you wanted to go out with a bang, literally?  

He wondered if he’d be brave enough to tell you how he felt about you, if either or both of you only had an hour left.  For better or for worse, this elevator shaft had airflow, so you were more likely to die of boredom than anything.

He shifted slightly, stuck in a somewhat awkward position, but it didn't help much— though thankfully it didn't wake you up, either.  He just wished he could get some relief, somehow.

Obviously, he knew it was a bad idea. But the thing about his dick is it usually talked him into some pretty bad ideas…

He tested the waters with a whisper of your name, but you just kept breathing slowly— you were out cold. Maybe you were even more nervous for him than you'd let on, if you were that underslept.

Reaching up with his free hand, all he had to do was grip himself through his jeans to get some relief; he sighed through his nose, shutting his eyes.

His cock flexed impatiently as he unzipped the jeans as slowly as possible to avoid making too much sound. But god was it worth the wait— as soon as he slipped his hand into his boxers he had to bite his lip, it was so good just to get some attention for his poor, lonely dick.

This was far from the first time Eddie had jerked off to the thought of you. But he was sure he'd never done it while you were this close.

He did it once or twice in your bathroom while you were on the other side of the wall, that was probably the closest he'd come to this before. And that was chump change compared to this-- this was so risky it made his heart race and his hands shake with adrenaline, but it only made him more desperate for whatever reason.

He wouldn't have swiped his thumb through the precum at his slit if he had known how good it would feel— or maybe if he'd known how good it would feel, he would've been able to prepare himself for it. But the anxiety of getting caught had made him even more sensitive, so he hadn't really seen it coming, and when he did it he let out a little moan through his teeth that he couldn't stop.

You stirred again and he froze; when you lifted your head off of his shoulder, he hastily shoved himself back into his jeans, trying to cover up the open fly with the bottom of his shirt.

“Were you… jerking off?” you realized, and he felt sick with fear as his heart raced like never before.

“W-what?” he scoffed incredulously.  “I— are you crazy?”

“Ed,” you warned firmly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I— sorry—”

“Are you that bored?” you mocked with a snort, and he felt even more flushed; it made his cock flex under the mediocre covering of his shirt when you degraded him like that.

“N-no— well, yeah, I just— you put your head on me and I—”

“It was because of me?” you realized, and his mouth fell open.  He hadn’t realized that you hadn’t actually put that together yet; of course he’d ended up just digging himself deeper.

“W-well, uh— I mean, no, no I— well.  Kind of?”

“Kind of, as in…”

“Completely,” he blurted out.

You were quiet for a long time, and he couldn’t see your face well enough to even try to guess what you were thinking.  Although you probably could’ve given him a thousand guesses and he never would’ve guessed what you ended up saying: “You want some help with that?” you offered.

But before he could even answer— not that he really could, he was too busy having a short circuit in his brain— you were reaching for his lap.  And even if his mind was blown, his body knew to just lift his hands up and out of the way and let you do whatever you wanted to him.

You pulled up the bottom of his shirt and sighed a little when you saw his cock, still hard and leaking and curled up against his stomach.  You carefully wrapped your hand around it, and he swallowed thickly, wondering if he was dreaming or something— you were so… soft.

“Like this?” you asked gently, making his hips twitch up into your hand for a second.

“Y-yeah,” he nodded, eyes glued to the way your hand looked wrapped around him.  If only the lights weren’t out, he wanted to see it even better.

He looked at your face, moving your hair a little to make sure he could see you, but from what he could tell your eyes were trained on his lap.

“Fuuuck,” he whispered when you stroked him a bit more confidently.  He wanted to shut his eyes from how good it felt, but he didn’t want to look away from a moment of this in case you, you know, came to your senses and stopped.

“S’really thick,” you said, under your breath, a little bit shyly.  He groaned and ran his hand over your back, trying not to do too much in case it startled you but also totally helpless to how badly he needed you.  “I wonder if I can…”

You trailed off, and before he could decide if he should ask what you were going to say, you 

As soon as you leaned down and put your mouth around him, his back arched and his legs kicked a bit.  “Fuck, baby,” he choked out, melting into the warm feeling of your lips, your tongue— god, he couldn’t believe you were doing this to him.  He actually had to fight the urge to tell you so, to admit how much he’d imagined this; he settled for whining out your name and running a hand over your hair encouragingly.  “S’fucking warm, oh my god—”

You hummed around him, sucking a bit harder, swirling your tongue around the tip; who the fuck taught you that?  It made his chest burn with some targetless jealousy even while it made his cock flex proudly. 

Your hand still gripping the base, you took him a little bit deeper, moaning a little bit once again while you did it.  No way you actually enjoyed this, right?

You pulled your head up a bit— he took his hand away quickly, not trying to hold you down or anything— and just when he wondered if you might stop, you dropped down lower so you could run your tongue up from the very bottom all the way to his leaking slit—

“Jesus,” he laughed thinly, “what are you doing to me, baby?”

“Whatever I wanna do,” you replied— if he was a little braver, he would’ve asked what made you want this, how long you wanted this— but he was more than content to let you do whatever you wanted, so far you had some pretty fucking good ideas.

Your head sank even a little bit lower, and he pushed his jeans down just a bit in case they were getting in your way.  Boy, was he glad he did.  “Fuck,” he gasped, watching in shock as you looked up at him while your tongue ran over his balls.  “Sorry, they’re, uh, kinda sweaty…”

“Even better,” you purred; what the fuck were you doing acting so dirty like that?

“Baby,” he laughed thinly, “is this some kind of claustrophobia-induced psychosis or something?  Who are you and what have you done with my prude best friend?”

“Prude?  That’s unfair,” you laughed.  “Just ‘cause I don’t advertise every dirty thought that goes through my mind doesn’t mean I’m not as much of a freak as you…”

“Freak is an understatement,” he sighed, struggling to keep his voice even when he was literally watching you lick all over his balls like this.  “You’re a proper fucking slut.”

You hummed proudly, eyes getting a little heavier— when you looked up at him like that, he was totally helpless.  “It’s slutty to wanna taste your best friend’s balls?”

“F-fuck, of course it is,” he whined, cock flexing in your hand again when you licked a stripe up between then.

“Well then yeah, guess I’m a slut,” you agreed. 

“G-god, I— I’m gonna—” he tried to warn you, but it happened so fast— it happened the second you started to gently suck on his balls, in fact.  What was he supposed to do when you did that?!  How could he not shoot cum all over his now-definitely-ruined shirt?

“Oh shit,” you giggled— his cock was still flexing and you were already mocking him.

“What— what the fuck,” he began, trying to catch his breath, “made you wanna do that?”

But you were already straddling his lap, pulling up your skirt to your waist.

“F-fuck, baby, I— are you seriously—?”

He cut himself off and whimpered when he got a good look at your panties, the cute lacy kind— and pretty fucking soaked already.

“I-I don’t have a condom,” he warned you, cursing himself inside for finally throwing out the one in his wallet thinking he would never end up needing it.

“Don’t care,” you sighed, pulling your panties aside and guiding his tip right up to your entrance.

“Fuck, that’s—”

He was gonna say it was insanely hot, but you hardly noticed; you were already sliding down onto him, taking him in one motion right to the base.

“Oh fuck!” he nearly shouted, gripping hard onto your thighs.  “F-fuck, you’re so tight, fuck…”

You started moving right away, grinding on top of him for a second before lifting your hips and bouncing up and down.  “Fuck,” you sighed, “so deep…”

Was it wrong that he loved the way you were basically just using him?  You hadn’t even let him finish his sentence, you didn’t ask if he could handle it right after coming— you just started riding him, and far be it from him to complain about that.

“Take this off,” he pleaded, tugging at your unbuttoned shirt and trying to push it off your shoulders.

You helped him get it off, and before you’d even tossed it off to the side he was reaching behind you to unclasp your bra.  The gods of bra clasps smiled down upon him that day, because he was sure he’d never gotten one open so quickly, and if there was any time he really needed it, it was now.

“Fuck,” he groaned when he got a good look at them— not good enough in this dim orange lighting, but it would do— and instantly got a hold of your chest.  You didn’t seem to mind the clammy hands, considering the way you whimpered a little and clenched inside around him.  “God, baby, your tits…”

As much as he’d been waiting ages for a chance to see you naked, he couldn’t deny you looked way too good with the skirt, stockings, and heels still on.  He could already tell this was going to give him a complex.

He ran a hand up your leg as you moved just to feel the silky nylon; god, he hoped you didn’t get fired for the unexplained extreme lateness, if not just for your sake then so that you would keep dressing like this every day.  “So pretty,” he sighed, wondering if you could see in the dark how totally in awe he was of you.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, in that way he’d always imagined you would in a time like this.  Your head fell back and he couldn’t help but reach up and grab your neck— not applying much pressure, just holding you there, just admiring how goddamn perfect his hand looked wrapped around you.  

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Eddie sighed, “fuck, look at you go.”

You smiled a little, he could see it even with your head tilted back like that, and it was just amazing seeing you so… free?  So relaxed and totally shameless, giving in to your pleasure.  But it wasn’t enough: he wanted to see you lose all your composure, he wanted to hear you scream his name, he wanted to make you shake and cry and beg— that was why he grabbed a tight hold of your hips and pulled you down onto him, bucking his hips up to meet you halfway.  It forced his cock even deeper and you yelped a little.

“Not too big for you, is it?” he taunted.

“No, fuck, s’perfect,” you moaned, your voice deep and rough and so fucking beautiful like this.  “Fuckin’ perfect, Ed, o-oh god—”

“Keep saying my name,” he ordered.

“Eddie,” you said, again, but this time all needy and cute; it just made him fuck you harder, biting down on his lip to muffle some of his own noises— he just wanted to hear you.  He pulled you down and hugged you close, keeping you still so he could fuck up into you exactly how he wanted; you moaned right by his ear, fuck it was too precious.  

“I’m already close again,” he admitted with a thin laugh.  “Fuck, look what you do to me.”

You whined louder, clenching on his cock— he seriously did not know how much more of this he could take.

“Wanted you so bad,” he blurted out, unable to stop himself, “wanted this for so long.  Wanted to fuck you— I wanna make you come, fuck, please, please come.”

He felt you nod against his shoulder as you gasped, and he shut his eyes tight, just focusing on his movements and trying his best not to speed up too much just to chase his own high.  He needed you to come more than he needed his own pleasure, even if everything in his body was screaming for a chance to come inside you. “So close,” you panted, “fuck, Eddie, don’t stop— please don’t stop— yes!”

The lights turning back on suddenly startled you both, making him freeze and look around (and squint a little from the brightness), but that was nothing compared to the shock of the doors opening.  Behind them was mostly just concrete, the space between floors, but up top was about two feet of the eighth level, where a crew of firefighters could be seen peering in.

“Are they alright?” someone from the building asked as Eddie scrambled to grab his jacket from the corner and cover you up with it.

“Yeah, looks like they’re doing just fine,” one of the men announced as they broke out in surprised laughter.

[farmererinpkmn]

Hahaha, working on a farm with pokemon is the same. I shear Wooloo, clean up the Chansey/Ducklett coop, pick our oran berry crops, ect on any given day and get totally covered in wool, poop, berry juice, feathers, and Arc knows what else. Then by dinnertime I'm totally starving. Just rinse off, eat, repeat!

Working in labs is so funny once you really think about it. "Oh, it's lunchtime! Man, working with blood, sweat, saliva, mucus, feces, urine, sperm, fur, teeth, and other weird stuff sure does make you hungry! 🥰🥰🥰🥰"

[nvuy]

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE TO THE BOOTHILL COMMUNITY I'm eating very well this week salute for your contribution 🫡🫡🫡 I also like the idea of sappy boothill he's the type to say "my girlfriend hates me I hope I die" and the Jessica and Roger rabbit dynamic is so!!!

he’s your ride or die. it’s most definitely a case of somebody asking “what do you see in him?” to which you reply “he makes me laugh.”

he’s so whipped to the point he’ll be in a serious debacle with somebody, guns drawn, throwing threats, but as soon as he hears the custom ringtone he’s set up that indicates that it’s you calling, he holds up a finger to his opponent and answers the call.

example: “oh, keep talking.” his gun is aimed directly in the centre of his opponent’s forehead. “one more word and i’ll blow a nice hole through yo–”

his pocket vibrates and chimes a ridiculous tune.

gun disappears back in its holster, the red targets in his irides fade and he turns his body away to answer the phone. “hey sweetie!”

his opponent is stunned. “wh–”

boothill holds up a finger. “of course i can buy dinner on the way home! what do you want to eat?” his opponent just barely hears a voice speaking on the other side of the phone. “mhm… i can get that… no problem… hey, you’re not working on friday, right? i’ll take ya out for dinner. there’s a nice little restaurant on the xianzhou luofu i think you’d like… sound good? i’ll see you tonight… love ya lots.”

probably makes kissy noises before he hangs up.

“seriously? are you–”

whoops. trigger finger’s a bit too itchy today.

adding onto what you said, he’s so sad when you’re upset with him. to me, he seems very disorganised and more of a risk taker. he’s got a body of steel; lots of risks won’t even leave a dent on him. he’s constantly running late to things, constantly leaving tasks unfinished to start something he finds more interesting. he’s in for the thrill of the ride.

one time, he forgot a date he himself had set up.

not only did he come home to find you clearly upset over it, but he was absolutely fuming at himself. apologised one million times to you, two million kisses, probably got on his knees, and he can’t ever forgive himself.

even if you’ve already forgiven him, you’re laughing and trying to get him to stand up because “you’re a grown man acting like this.” he latches onto you like a koala bear.

it’s not even that deep either. it’s just a lunch. it’s not like it was a special occasion. speaking of which, he’d never forget a birthday, valentine’s day, whatever traditional holidays you celebrate. never ever.

he’s actually such a sappy gooey loser it’s so sweet. his favourite thing to do is bury his face in your neck or your chest or your lap. he’s all over you like sticky sweet honey, and you can’t get rid of him that easily.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

I THINK HE KNOWS

drew starkey x fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict reader’s appearance!)

SUMMARY: daniel craig introduces his daughter to his co-star drew starkey at the after party for the ‘golden globes,’ and they do more than just hit it off.🫣

based on this ask !! i got a little carried away with this one and i could genuinely write a WHOLE fic with drew x daniel craig’s daughter😫 i have so many ideas for this pairing, so lmk if you wanna see more !! i hope you enjoy this @drewstarrrkey <3

WARNINGS: fluff & smut (18+, MDNI!), cursing, alcohol consumption, flirty!reader, cursing, p in v, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before ya tap it😣), switch!drew (mostly dom), like one (?) use of ‘good girl,’ body worship, LOTS of foreplay😝. (lmk if i missed anything!!)

WORD COUNT: 5.2k (i got REALLY carried away😭)

THIRD PERSON +

The energy of the Golden Globes after-party was electric. The clinking of glasses, low hum of laughter, and faint music filled the space. Celebrities mingled under the soft glow of chandeliers, conversations buzzing with excitement about the evening's wins.

Drew Starkey sat at the bar nursing a glass of champagne, still slightly stunned from his earlier win. He'd barely had time to process the moment—his first major nomination and now his first big award.

The crowd was overwhelming, but his co-star, Daniel Craig, had insisted he celebrate properly. Drew watched as Daniel cut through the party with his unmistakable presence, shaking hands, embracing friends, and flashing that rare smile that could light up a room. Behind him, someone followed, and Drew's attention lingered just a little too long.

"Starkey!" Daniel's voice carried above the noise. Drew straightened instinctively, placing his glass back down as Daniel approached.

"Hey!" Drew smiled. "Congrats again. Well deserved, man."

"Thank you. Same to you." Daniel clapped him on the shoulder before stepping to the side. "I want you to meet someone."

Stepping forward with a confident stride was a young woman, poised but relaxed in a way that suggested she belonged in a room like this. Daniel turned to her with an almost affectionate roll of his eyes.

"This is my daughter, Y/N."

Y/N smiled and offered her hand to Drew. "Hi. I've heard so much about you."

Drew shook her hand, his mind scrambling for composure. "You too. I mean—I haven't heard about you in that sense, but your dad's mentioned you. Not in a bad way—uh, I mean—" He stopped, exhaling with a self-deprecating laugh. "Sorry, I'm a bit flustered. It's nice to meet you."

Y/N grinned. "Quite the introduction, Drew."

Daniel raised a brow at them both, clearly amused. "Well, I'll leave you two to it. I see a few friends I need to go bother." He glanced at Drew. "Behave yourself."

Drew let out an awkward laugh. "Of course. Always."

Daniel walked away, disappearing into the crowd. Y/N turned back to Drew, tilting her head slightly as she observed him. "He's very fond of you, you know."

"Is he?" Drew replied, trying to play it cool. "He's great. Working with him was... surreal, honestly."

"I'd imagine. I've seen the movie, of course. You were phenomenal." Her tone was warm, genuine, and Drew found himself smiling at her praise.

"Thank you. That means a lot."

She leaned against the bar, signaling to the bartender for a drink. "You look surprised."

"I guess I just... still don't know how to take compliments," Drew admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's all been a bit overwhelming."

"You shouldn't be so modest. Your performance was stunning. And you've got the trophy to prove it." She shot him a teasing smile. "Don't let it go to your head, though."

Drew laughed, finally feeling himself relax. "I'll try my best. And you—your dad said you're an actress as well? And a model?"

"Here and there. I've done some niche indie films—ones that play in small theatres no one ever goes to." Her voice was light, self-deprecating but playful.

"Niche or not, that's impressive." Drew met her gaze. "What kind of roles?"

Y/N paused as the bartender slid a glass of wine her way. "I guess you could say I play a lot of brooding, lost souls. The ones who always seem to sit by windows and stare out dramatically."

"Ah, very serious. Lots of silent contemplation?"

"Exactly." Y/N laughed softly. "But enough about me. Tell me about Queer. It must've been... intense to film."

"It was." Drew nodded, leaning his elbow on the bar as he turned toward her. "Luca Gaudagnino has this way of making you feel completely vulnerable. It was a challenge, but I trusted him. There's this scene—I'm sure you remember it—where my character completely unravels."

"How could I forget?" Y/N said softly, her eyes locked on his. "You were so raw in that moment. It was almost uncomfortable to watch because it felt so real."

Drew blinked, feeling his ears heat. "That's what Luca wanted. He kept pushing me to 'stop acting,' as he put it. He'd say, 'Feel it. Don't pretend to feel it.' I'd never worked like that before."

"Well, it paid off. Watching you was like watching someone break open right in front of me. Vulnerable, stripped back..." She paused, taking a sip of her wine. "And now here you are, Golden Globe in hand."

Drew looked away, smiling sheepishly. "I'm still processing it."

"You deserve it," Y/N replied firmly. "And no one here is going to let you forget it."

Drew looked at her again, unable to ignore the spark in her gaze. She was bold—not just in what she said, but how she carried herself. It was disarming. "You've got a way with words."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Y/N smiled mischievously. "So tell me, Drew Starkey... how's the fame treating you?"

He groaned playfully, shaking his head. "You're going to make me sound insufferable."

"On the contrary, I think you're handling yourself rather well."

"You say that now," Drew teased. "Talk to me in six months when I've gone completely Hollywood."

"Mm, I don't think that's in your nature." Y/N tilted her head thoughtfully. "You seem far too grounded for that."

"You don't know me yet," Drew countered.

"Well, I'm a very good judge of character. Comes with the territory of being Daniel Craig's daughter—lots of egos to sift through."

Drew raised his brows, amused. "Is that right?"

"Absolutely. I'm rarely wrong." She gave him a sly look. "And my read on you so far is: humble, charming, and maybe a little too hard on yourself."

Drew chuckled, caught off guard. "You're bold."

"Life's too short not to be."

Drew shook his head with a small smile. "And what's your read on yourself?"

Y/N leaned in slightly, her voice dropping just enough to feel conspiratorial. "That would spoil the fun, wouldn't it?"

Drew swallowed, the teasing lilt in her voice setting him slightly off balance. There was a beat of silence between them, the kind that crackled with unspoken tension. He cleared his throat, reaching for his champagne. "You're a mystery, Y/N."

"And you're still a little flustered," she teased, her grin widening. "Do I make you nervous, Drew?"

"Maybe." Drew gave her a crooked smile, holding her gaze. "But I think you like that."

Y/N laughed, the sound light and rich. "I do. I'm not afraid to admit it."

Drew shook his head in disbelief. "You're something else."

"So I've been told." She took another sip of wine, her expression softening just a touch. "But really—what's next for you? After all this?"

Drew shrugged, glancing around the room as if the answer might be hidden somewhere among the guests. "I don't know. This feels like such a huge moment, you know? I almost don't want to think about what's next. I just want to enjoy this."

"As you should." Y/N nodded approvingly. "Don't let anyone rush you."

"I won't." Drew paused, meeting her eyes again. "But... I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little scared of what comes after. What if I can't live up to it?"

"You will," Y/N said softly, her tone sincere. "You've got the talent, Drew. The rest will follow."

Drew studied her for a moment, his chest feeling strangely warm. "You're very good at this."

"At what?"

"Making people feel seen."

Y/N smiled, her expression unreadable. "Maybe you just needed someone to see you tonight."

Drew felt his heart skip, the weight of her words settling between them. Before he could respond, Y/N placed her empty glass on the bar.

"Come on," she said, standing. "You're far too interesting to spend the whole night glued to this bar stool."

"Where are we going?" Drew asked, standing to follow her.

Y/N looked over her shoulder with a mischievous smile. "You'll just have to follow me."

And he did. Without hesitation. A “Yes, ma’am,” slipping from his lips.

Drew followed Y/N as she led him away from the bar, weaving effortlessly through the crowd. She moved with a sort of practiced ease, as if she'd spent her whole life in rooms like this—grand, glittering, and full of famous faces. Drew, still buzzing from the champagne and the residual adrenaline of the evening, was mesmerized.

"I'm dying of curiosity here, where exactly are we going?" Drew asked, his voice tinged with amusement as they turned down a quieter hallway leading away from the main party.

"Somewhere a little less chaotic," Y/N replied, glancing back at him. "Unless you'd rather keep bumping elbows with half of Hollywood."

"No complaints here," Drew said, matching her steps. "I think I've shaken enough hands tonight to last me the rest of the year."

Y/N pushed open a door at the end of the hall, revealing a small terrace overlooking the city. The night air was cool, crisp against their skin as they stepped outside. The noise of the party dulled behind them, replaced by the distant hum of Los Angeles and the quiet rustling of trees in the breeze.

"Better?" Y/N asked, turning to face him.

Drew exhaled, his shoulders relaxing as he looked out over the skyline. "Much better. Thanks."

Y/N leaned against the railing, watching him with an unreadable expression. "You looked like you needed an escape."

"I guess I did." Drew joined her, leaning beside her, their arms nearly brushing. "It's a lot, you know? I'm grateful—don't get me wrong—but... I don't think I'm cut out for the whole schmoozing thing."

"Most people aren't. They just pretend they are." Y/N's lips curled into a small smile. "Besides, you've already done the hard part tonight. The rest is noise."

Drew glanced at her, the city lights reflecting in her eyes. "You're good at this—reading people."

She shrugged lightly, her tone playful but laced with truth. "It's my party trick."

"Anything else I should know about you?" Drew teased. "Other hidden talents?"

"Plenty," she replied with a grin and a cheeky wink. "But I'm not about to give them all away at once. That would ruin the mystery."

Drew shook his head with a laugh, tucking his hands into his pockets. "You're impossible."

"I get that a lot," she said, unfazed. "But you haven't run off yet, have you?"

"No," Drew admitted, his smile softening. "I haven't."

Y/N's gaze lingered on him for a moment before she looked back out at the city. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Did you ever think you'd end up here?" She gestured vaguely to the world around them. "Holding a Golden Globe, being the name on everyone's lips?"

Drew was quiet for a beat, choosing his words carefully. "I don't think it ever felt real enough to imagine. I wanted it, of course—I worked for it—but this? This feels like someone else's life."

"And yet, here you are."

"Here I am," he echoed, looking at her. "What about you? You've grown up in all of this. Does it ever lose its shine?"

Y/N's expression faltered, just for a moment, as if the question touched on something deeper. "Sometimes," she admitted. "It's easy to feel like you're just a part of the machinery—another face in a sea of them. But then you meet someone who reminds you why you love it, why it's worth it."

Drew tilted his head slightly, his curiosity piqued. "Is that why you act? Because you love it?"

"Because I can't not do it," Y/N said simply. "Even when it's thankless, even when no one's watching... I need it."

Drew understood that. It resonated deep within him—the need to create, to express, to push boundaries for reasons that weren't always tangible.

"I get that," he murmured. "The best moments are the ones no one else sees. The ones you do for yourself."

Y/N turned to face him fully, her eyes sharp and intent. "Exactly. And that's what makes what you did in Queer so powerful. It didn't feel performative. It felt real, like you gave a part of yourself away for it."

Drew swallowed, her words hitting him harder than he expected. "I'm honoured. That's... the best compliment I've ever gotten."

"It's true," she said softly. "And for what it's worth, I think you're just getting started."

Drew looked at her, something shifting between them in the quiet. He felt seen—more than that, he felt understood. Y/N Craig, with her razor-sharp wit and unwavering confidence, had peeled back his layers in a way no one else had managed all night.

"You really don't hold back, do you?" Drew said, his voice low.

Y/N smirked, stepping closer. "Why should I? Life's too short for subtlety."

Drew's breath hitched as the space between them narrowed. She was close enough now that he could catch the faintest trace of her perfume—something heady and elegant that suited her perfectly.

"You're dangerous," Drew said, his voice a little unsteady.

Y/N arched a brow, clearly amused. "Am I?"

"Yeah." Drew's lips curved into a small smile. "The kind of person who makes you forget to play it safe."

Y/N tilted her head, her eyes locking with his. "And do you always play it safe, Drew Starkey?"

Drew hesitated for just a second before answering. "Not tonight."

Y/N's smile widened, a knowing glint in her eyes. She reached up, her fingers brushing the lapel of his suit jacket. "Good."

The air crackled between them, thick with unspoken possibilities. Drew could feel his pulse quicken, every sense heightened as Y/N held his gaze. She was testing him, waiting to see what he'd do.

And for once, Drew didn't think—he just acted.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

Y/N's smile was slow and deliberate. "I thought you'd never ask."

Drew grinned, a mix of nerves and excitement flickering across his face as Y/N tugged him by the hand, leading him back through the terrace door. The pair slipped back into the hallway unnoticed, the music and chatter of the afterparty drowning out their hasty footsteps.

"Are we seriously sneaking our way out right now?" Drew whispered, though the grin he wore betrayed any hesitation.

"Unless you'd rather stay and talk to George Clooney about his favorite vineyards," Y/N teased, looking back at him with a mischievous smile. "Then we need to make haste!"

Drew huffed a quiet laugh. "Okay, fair point. Let's go."

They moved quickly, dodging small clusters of guests and waitstaff like a pair of teenagers sneaking out of school. Every time their eyes met, a fit of laughter threatened to spill out of them.

"Act natural," Y/N mock-coached as they passed one of the party coordinators.

"Yeah, because that's going well," Drew shot back, trying to suppress his smirk.

Finally, they pushed through a side exit and found themselves in the cool night air, away from the golden haze of the afterparty. The parking area was quiet, save for a valet who barely looked up as Y/N called for a car.

"God, I feel like we just got away with murder," Drew muttered, running a hand through his hair as he stood beside her.

Y/N grinned up at him, her cheeks flushed. "Feels kind of good, doesn't it?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah... yeah, it really does."

The car pulled up, and Y/N wasted no time climbing into the backseat. Drew followed, sliding in beside her and shutting the door. The silence in the car was loaded, broken only by the faint hum of the radio and the distant sounds of the city.

"Your hotel, I assume?" Y/N asked, glancing at him.

"Yeah." Drew cleared his throat, suddenly feeling the weight of what they were doing hit him. He glanced at her and added softly, "If that's okay."

Y/N gave him a teasing look. "Wouldn't be here if it wasn't, would I?"

Drew felt the heat rise to his cheeks, and he covered it with a laugh. "Right. Fair point."

The ride to the hotel felt like a blur, the two of them making light conversation as they both tried to ignore the electric undercurrent running between them. When the car finally pulled up to Drew's hotel, he shot Y/N a nervous glance.

"You sure about this?" he asked quietly.

Y/N's lips twitched into a smirk as she leaned closer, her voice low and teasing. "You're not getting cold feet, are you?"

"Definitely not," Drew said quickly, earning another quiet laugh from her.

They hurried through the lobby—heads down, hands brushing but never fully touching. Drew felt like his heart was pounding in his ears as they reached the elevator. The moment the doors slid shut, Y/N let out a giggle, biting her lower lip.

"We look so suspicious right now," she whispered.

"You look suspicious," Drew shot back with a grin. "I look like someone trying not to have a heart attack."

She rolled her eyes playfully, stepping closer to him. "Relax, Golden Globe winner. No one's paying attention to us."

"That's the problem," Drew muttered under his breath, earning another soft laugh from her.

The elevator dinged, and they stepped onto Drew's floor. He fumbled briefly with the keycard as Y/N watched, clearly entertained by how flustered he'd become.

"Need help?" she teased.

"I've got it," Drew replied quickly, finally getting the door open. He held it for her as she stepped inside, and he followed, shutting it behind them.

The hotel room was simple and sleek, the lights dim as Drew tossed his keycard onto the desk. He turned to find Y/N standing near the window, looking out at the glittering cityscape. She turned to face him, her expression softer now, though still full of that familiar mischief.

But it was like something had switched in the air. Drew leaning back against the door as he studied her.

"So," he began, his voice quiet but laced with an edge that made her stomach twist, "I bet you think you're calling the shots tonight?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. "I mean, I guess we'll see who's running this show, won't we?"

Drew pushed off the door, taking a slow step toward her. His movements were deliberate, almost predatory, and Y/N found herself instinctively taking a small step back. But she wasn't about to let him see her falter. She leaned forward slightly, her lips quirking into a smirk.

"You walk like you own the place," she said, her tone teasing. "But I bet you're all talk."

Drew stopped just inches away from her, his breath warm against her skin. He lifted a hand, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone who seemed so intent on dominating the situation.

"Careful, Y/N," he warned softly, his voice almost a whisper. "You might be surprised at what I'm capable of."

His fingers trailed down her neck, and she shivered despite herself. What is this? she wondered, her earlier confidence beginning to waver. There was something magnetic about him, something that pulled her in despite her best efforts to maintain control.

"Or maybe," she countered, tilting her chin up defiantly, "you're just trying to scare me."

Drew's lips twitched into a smile, but there was no warmth in it. "Maybe I am," he admitted, his voice dropping lower. "But why don't we find out?"

Before she could respond, his hands were on her hips, pulling her closer until their bodies pressed together. Y/N gasped softly, her pulse quickening as his proximity overwhelmed her senses. His lips were so close to hers, his breath mingling with hers, and she couldn't help but tilt her face upward, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he murmured, his voice rough and intimate. "And I'm not one for playing games."

Y/N swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how much taller and stronger he was than her. But she wasn't about to back down. "Good," she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "Because I like a challenge."

Drew's eyes darkened, and without warning, he dipped his head, capturing her lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was commanding, urgent, and left no room for doubt about who was in charge. Y/N's hands flew to his shoulders, gripping tightly as she tried to steady herself against the wave of desire that washed over her.

His tongue traced the seam of her lips, demanding entry, and she parted them instinctively, allowing him access. The kiss deepened, grew more intense, and Y/N felt her knees weaken. Drew held her firmly, his hands sliding up her sides to cup her face, angling her head to deepen the connection.

When he finally pulled away, Y/N was breathless, her cheeks flushed and her chest rising and falling rapidly. She blinked up at him, dazed and disoriented, and realized with a jolt that she'd completely underestimated him.

"As wonderful as that was," Drew said, his voice husky and raw. "I think I need to go slower. Test your limits."

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she stared up at him, realisation dawning. He's not bluffing, she thought, her earlier confidence faltering. Drew was lethal, charming, and utterly in control, and she had walked right into his trap.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Drew's lips curved into a wicked smile as he leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "Everything."

His hand slid from her hip to the small of her back, pressing her closer against him. The heat between them was electric, a palpable tension that threatened to ignite at any moment.

Y/N's breath came in short bursts as she tilted her head up, her lips parted in anticipation. He's not going to kiss me, she thought, not yet. But the way his eyes darkened, the way his fingers flexed against her skin, told her she was wrong. He was going to do exactly what he wanted, and she was going to let him.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured, his lips hovering just inches from hers. "Tell me how much you like this."

She hesitated for a split second, but only a split second. Her boldness was ingrained, a survival mechanism honed by years of attention and expectation. "I like it," she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. "I like that you're taking control."

Drew's smile was slow, predatory. "Good girl," he said, the words soft but laced with authority. He kissed her then, a deep, bruising kiss that left no room for doubt. His tongue swept into her mouth, demanding, exploring, claiming. Y/N melted into him, her hands gripping his shoulders for balance as the world around her dissolved into sensation.

When he finally pulled away, they were both breathless. Drew stared down at her, his blue eyes gleaming with something that made her stomach twist. "You're not in control here, sweetheart," he said, his tone conversational but firm. "Not anymore."

Y/N swallowed hard, her earlier confidence faltering. He's right, she realised. I walked into this thinking I could handle him, but he's handling me. And God, it was intoxicating.

Drew didn't wait for her response. Instead, he turned her gently, positioning her with her back to him. Her heart raced as she felt his body press against hers, his chest warm and solid against her spine. His hand cupped her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple through the fabric of her dress. She gasped, arching into his touch.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice rumbling against her ear.

She nodded quickly, too caught up in the sensations to form words.

"Good," he said, his grip tightening momentarily before he released her. Y/N blinked, confused, as Drew stepped back. He moved to the bed, sitting down and leaning back on his elbows, his legs stretched out in front of him. His gaze was intense, predatory, as he watched her.

"Take off your dress," he said simply.

The command hit her like a bolt of lightning. Y/N hesitated, her hands moving instinctively to the zipper at the back of her gown. She glanced at Drew, expecting... something. A smile, maybe, or a reassuring word. But his expression remained unchanged, a mask of calm dominance.

He's serious, she thought, her pulse quickening. He wants me to do this for him.

Slowly, deliberately, she began to unzip her dress. The fabric slid down her shoulders, pooling at her hips. She shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. Beneath it, she wore only a lace bra and matching panties, the delicate garments doing little to conceal her arousal.

Drew's eyes roamed over her body, lingering on the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts, the slight tremble in her thighs. "Beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. "But not enough."

Y/N's brow furrowed. "What—"

"Shh," he interrupted, raising a hand to silence her. "Don't talk. Just listen."

Her breath caught in her throat as Drew leaned forward, his movements fluid and precise. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the strap of her bra. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it sliding down her arm. Her nipples tightened immediately, peaking under his scrutiny.

"Perfect," he said, his voice a low purr. He cupped her breast in his hand, squeezing gently. Y/N bit her lip to stifle a moan, her legs trembling beneath her.

Drew's free hand reached for the waistband of her panties, tugging them downward until they clung to her hips. He paused there, his fingers tracing the edge of the fabric before hooking his thumbs into the sides and pulling them down her legs.

Y/N stood before him completely exposed, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and arousal. Drew's gaze was relentless, unapologetic, as he took in every inch of her.

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

She obeyed, her movements stiff with nervousness. When she faced away from him, Drew's hands returned to her body, one stroking down her spine while the other traced the curve of her ass.

"So beautiful," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. He pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck, his lips lingering as his hands explored her body with increasing boldness.

Y/N's knees nearly buckled beneath her. This is happening, she thought, her brain struggling to keep up with the intensity of the moment. He's really doing this.

Without warning, Drew spun her around and pushed her backward onto the bed. Y/N landed with a soft thud, her heart pounding as she looked up at him. Drew loomed over her, his expression dark and commanding.

"Spread your legs," he ordered, his voice sharp and clipped.

Y/N hesitated, her mind racing. Is this what I want? The question flashed through her mind, but the answer was already there, buried beneath the haze of desire clouding her judgment.

She spread her legs, her breathing shallow and uneven. Drew's eyes flicked down, noting her readiness with a smirk.

"Good girl," he said, the words dripping with approval. He knelt between her thighs, his fingers skimming the inside of her knee before moving upward. Y/N's breath hitched as his touch neared her core, her body tensing in anticipation.

And then, quite suddenly, he stopped.

"Wait," he said, his voice firm.

Y/N blinked up at him, confusion and frustration warring within her. "What?" she managed to whisper.

Drew's smile was wicked, almost cruel. "I need to hear you say it."

"Say what?"

His fingers pressed against her inner thigh, applying just enough pressure to make her squirm. "Tell me what you want," he demanded. "Tell me how much you need this."

Y/N's cheeks flushed crimson, her confidence faltering under his unrelenting gaze. "I... I don't know," she stammered, her voice barely audible.

Drew's expression hardened, his hand withdrawing from her thigh. "Then we're done here."

"No!" she cried, desperation clawing at her throat. "Please, Drew, I—"

"Say it," he interrupted, his voice a low growl.

She hesitated, her pride warring with her need. But she needed this, more than she cared to admit. "Please," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I... I need you to fuck me."

At her admission, Drew's control snapped. His hands and lips were everywhere, leaving no part of her untouched, no moment unexplored.

And within a split-second, he pushed into her, filling her completely. She gasped, her body adjusting to his size, her muscles tightening around him. Drew began to move, his rhythm slow and steady, building the tension once more. He watched her face intently, reading every twitch and moan, adjusting his movements to maximise her pleasure. It was as if he could feel every sensation she was experiencing, as if they were connected in a way that went beyond the physical.

He leaned down, capturing her mouth in another bruising kiss. His hand found her clit, his thumb circling it in time with his thrusts.

The cacophony of sounds filled the room: slick skin connecting, Y/N's breathless whimpers and cries of pure pleasure, Drew's soft moans. But to them it sounded like a symphony; a truly bewitching one.

"Y/N," Drew said her name like a prayer, his voice ragged with volatile emotions. "Look at me."

She obeyed, meeting his gaze as tears of ecstasy blurred her vision. This was it, she realised. This was what she'd been missing. The raw, unfiltered connection, the trust, the surrender.

"Don't look away," he commanded, his voice fierce but tender. "Stay with me."

She nodded, her breathing shallow as she clung to him, her body tense with anticipation. And then, as if on cue, her climax hit her like a tidal wave, her entire body convulsing with pleasure as she screamed his name.

Drew followed soon after, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he poured himself into her, his body shuddering with release. For a moment, they lay there in silence, their hearts pounding in sync.

"So," she said quietly, breaking the silence. "Not a bad way to celebrate your first Golden Globe win, is it?"

Drew let out a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Not bad at all."

Y/N grinned, lifting her head to look at him. "Good. Because I plan on reminding you about this night for years."

Drew rolled his eyes, though he was smiling. "You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Not a chance."

Drew shook his head, pulling her closer. "You're the worst."

"And yet, here we are," Y/N teased, settling back against him.

Drew couldn't argue with that. As he lay there, listening to her quiet breathing and staring up at the ceiling, he couldn't help but think that this was, without a doubt, the best night of his life.

(dividers by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

i had SO much fun writing this request and i REALLY got carried away XD i hope this wasn’t too long, and was exactly what you wanted my lovely :) request are going to be open for the next 24 hours so get some in if you have anymore everyone !! <3

thinking of starting a tag list if anybody’s interested? as always, hearts and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[aemondsbabe]

Give Me an O!

summary: billy walks in on you in a bit of a compromising situation, and you finally go after what you want

pairing: billy hargrove x cheerleader!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, reader is very flexible, minor injury it's fine, piv sex, unprotected sex oopsy daisy, public sex technically, hand over mouth, fingering, breast/nipple play if you blink, dirty talk, reader's hair is long enough that she can have a ponytail but no other physical descriptors are used, billy is a himbo, steve harrington cameo

word count: 5k

a/n: finally getting around to a request from @sweetshifter! thank you for the idea bby & i hope ya enjoy! also, my first time writing for stranger things! yay! images in the header are for aesthetic purposes only!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @unwanted-animal

🖤 my masterlist

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“You sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” Your best friend asks as she slings her gym bag over her shoulder, “I don’t mind staying a couple minutes.”

“Nah,” you shrug, still panting a little from practice as you lean to the side with a little sigh, stretching down toward your leg, “You go on, I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

“Alright, cool,” she chirps, glossy lips flicking up into that sincere, beaming smile that had become her signature, “Bye!” She calls over her shoulder as she turns, white tennis shoes thumping against the shiny wooden floor as your name echoes around the gym. 

“Bye, Chrissy!” You reply with a smile, glancing up as the heavy metal doors at the side of the room click closed, leaving you alone for the time being. 

With a tired huff, you check your watch, one that matched Chrissy’s exactly – gold with a baby pink face. You’d gotten them at the mall last summer, a joint birthday present. 

4:34pm.

A sigh leaves your lips as you lunge forward, hands planted firmly on your hips as you try to ignore the slight burn in your thigh. So, that’s… like, forty-five minutes until basketball practice starts, you think, eyes pointed up at the white metal ceiling as you do mental math, trying to figure out exactly how long you’ll have to work on your stretches. 

Deciding to give yourself a few more minutes before calling it a day, you breathe out steadily through your pursed lips as you switch sides and lunge forward again, savoring the light burn in your calf. After a fifteen second count, you move onto your hands and knees, needing to stretch out your back. 

You hum softly under your breath, one hand planted firmly against the blue tumbling mat beneath you as the other reaches back and grabs onto one of your ankles, your limbs forming a graceful arch above you. A small grunt leaves you as you pull your leg up as high as you can, before dropping it down and reaching back with your other hand to do the other side. Mid-pose, you swear you hear one of the gym doors click open, the one out to the hallway with the locker rooms and various storage closets judging by the direction, but you’re so focused on holding your pose, you honestly can’t be sure. 

Huffing, you decide to just ignore it – Probably just the janitor or something, you think, keeping your eyes focused, once again, on the white metal ceiling as you roll over onto your back. 

Breathing steadily, you let your eyes slip closed as you press both legs together before slowly lifting them up, using your hands and elbows to support your back as you lift onto your shoulders. Wincing slightly at the twinge of pain from your left one, you work through it, trying to keep your breath steady. As your green and gold cheer skirt pools at your waist, you silently pray that if it is a janitor, that it’s at least not the creepy one.

Slowly but surely, you work both legs up and over your head until the tips of your white sneakers press into the mat, your arms planted firmly onto the floor for support. 

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, you count silently, breathing a little shakily as you focus on balancing… and on ignoring your shoulder. 

Suddenly, a loud wolf-whistle cuts through the silence of the gym, punctuated by a few slow claps and the heavy footsteps of someone walking across the wooden gym floor. 

“Aah!” You squeak as you topple to the side, concentration thoroughly broken. Huffing, you prop yourself up on one elbow as your head snaps up, eyes already narrowed into an irritated glare. Upon seeing who it is, you can’t help but sneer.

“Can I help you, Hargrove?” You sigh, exasperated, rolling your eyes as you angle both legs out in a side split, determined to get through your stretches even with the added annoyance of Billy’s presence.

“Just admiring the view, princess,” he drawls, blue eyes trailing up the length of each of your spread legs in a way that makes your cheeks flush, “You’re real good at that, aren’t you?” He questions, plump lips quirked up into that signature, flirtatious smirk. 

“Good at what?” You ask, brows furrowing as you bend over to the left, easily grasping the toe of your tennis shoe as the muscles in your legs stretch into a taut, familiar ache. 

He chuckles at that, hands on his hips as he studies you, the spicy, woodsy smell of his cologne filling the space around you. He cocks his head to the side, pearly white teeth flashing every few seconds as he chews a piece of gum. 

“Stretching,” he all but purrs, golden curls blowing slightly from the large fans that hum loudly on the ceiling. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he ogles at you, watching carefully as you bend to the right, “I bet it’d be really easy to just fold you up like a pretzel, huh, sweets?” 

With a sigh, you finally let yourself relax for a moment and tilt your head up to look at the boy as you lean back on your hands, your ponytail swishing across your shoulder blades as you do. 

“In your dreams, Billy,” you murmur, trying to keep the expression on your face plaid, wholly uninterested, which is easier said than done. 

You don’t like Billy, and you’re very quick to correct anyone who says you do, even if it is just friendly teasing. But, well, there’s something about him that just draws people into his orbit – charisma combined with a certain mystique. You knew from talking to the girls in the locker room that he was a lady’s man, and a player, but from how they all talked about him, there appeared to be something more there, some hidden layer that no one had been able to crack yet. He’s different from the other boys in Hawkins, no small town charm to hide behind. 

Plus, come on, he’s gorgeous. You might not be Billy’s biggest fan but you have eyes. 

“Damn right, in my dreams,” he murmurs, pulling you from your thoughts as he draws out every syllable of your name in a low, husky tone, familiar smirk playing at his lips like always. 

Cocking your head, you narrow your eyes as you peer up at him, “Aren’t you going out with Amber now?”

“Wouldn’t exactly call it going out…,” he answers as he bends down on one knee to retie the laces of his shoe, shooting you a little wink as he does so. 

“Does Amber know that?”

He pauses at that, a little huff of laughter bubbling up from his chest as he fixes you with a grin that is much too self-satisfied for your liking. “Now, princess,” he starts slowly, blue eyes narrowing at you playfully as he rests a forearm across his knee, “Why do you care so much about what I’m doing with Amber?”

“She’s my friend, Billy,” you say, sitting up a little more, the chill from the AC units making the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end. 

“So, it’s definitely not because you’re, I dunno, jealous or anything?”

“No!” You cringe inwardly as you say it, too quick and too defensive and just what the blue eyed boy had been hoping for, judging by the smug grin plastered on his face. 

This is how it’s been between the two of you for months now, ever since his stupid Camaro had rumbled into the school’s parking lot way back in August. Since then, it’s been a whirlwind of teasing jokes, sitting through History class after History class as you feel those blue eyes practically boring a hole in the back of your head, and somehow mustering up the willpower to dodge his advances. 

In the nearly three months since his arrival, Billy had managed to charm his way through at least a handful of girls, maybe more depending on which rumors you listen to, but you are determined not to fall for it, not to be just another notch on his bedpost. 

Which would be a lot easier if he’d leave you the hell alone. 

Flustered, you pull your knees up, tucking your chin over top of them as your arms wrap around your calves, silently rolling your eyes as Billy drops to the blue tumbling mat, rolling onto his back with a satisfied sigh, making it clear to you that he was here to stay. 

“Why’re you here so early, anyway?” You question, glancing at your watch once more, “Basketball practice isn’t for, like, another half hour.” 

“Had to drop my stupid step-sister off at some trash arcade,” he grunts, annoyed, “Didn’t wanna waste the gas to go all the way home, plus…,” he pauses, tilting his head to the side to slyly grin at you once more, “I figured I might get here early enough to catch the end of cheer practice.” 

“Creep,” you scoff, much more playfully than you’d intended to. 

The two of you fall into a, surprisingly, comfortable beat of silence. You let your eyes trail over Billy as his own droop shut, one arm propped behind his head as he lazes on the gym mat, jaw clenching every so often as he works the gum in his mouth. You start at his feet, taking in the faded black canvas material of his Converse before you let your eyes roam up his long, tanned, muscular legs. Finally, you reach the familiar dark green shade of his school-branded shorts and your eyes wander up the expanse of his stomach and chest, covered by the grey t-shirt he wears, the familiar eyes of Hawkins High’s tiger mascot staring blankly into your own. 

You nearly gasp as your eyes trail up to his face again, only to find his steely eyes already looking at you, a knowing smirk etched into his face as you feel the apples of your cheeks flush. 

“It’s rude to stare, princess,” Billy drawls, catching you red handed.

“And it’s not rude to perv on me stretching?” 

“Never said it wasn’t,” he shrugs with a little chuckle, sitting up and resting one forearm on a bent knee. You merely roll your eyes as he studies you for a second, the blush on your cheeks deepening enough that you can feel the slight tingle of blood rushing under the surface. 

“Whatever,” you sigh, shaking your head as you stretch your legs out in front of you again. You stretch forward again, letting out a breath as you grab at your ankles and try to ignore the way Billy sits up, propping his forearm up on a bent knee. 

“Could you, like, put your legs behind your head and all that?” 

“Probably,” you say with a little eye roll. 

“Will you?”

“Not for you!” 

The two of you carry on like that for a moment longer — you working through various stretches and familiar yoga poses as Billy seems overly curious about each one, questioning if you can twist into all kinds of poses. 

“Can you do a handstand and do the splits?” He questions, grinning when you groan in frustration, eyes trailing up your long legs to the bottom of your short cheer skirt. 

With a huff, you stand with one hand on your hip, the other pinching at the bridge of your nose as Billy’s incessant questions throw you off the silent count in your head again.

“Did you want something or are you just trying fuck me over?” 

“Mmm, close, princess,” the blond teases, earning another glare from you. Playfully, he holds his hands up in surrender, “You’re single, aren’t you?” He asks, smirking triumphantly at the way you balk.

“I’m not talking about this with you, Hargrove.”

His smirk widens when you don’t deny it, blue eyes darkening as they travel over the length of your body once more. “Look, all I’m saying is that the guys talk in the locker room and… well, I can’t help but notice that your pretty name just doesn’t come up.”

“Maybe I have better things to do than put out for you assholes,” you smirk, quickly stretching out your problem shoulder before kneeling back on the tumbling mat, meaning to finish up with a couple quick pushups.

Undeterred, Billy merely matches your smirk with one of his own, watching as you kneel next to him. “Just come with me to Harrington’s Halloween party next weekend, sweetness,” he offers, his voice a low rumble, “Come on, a couple hours, some drinks. Hell, I’ll even dress up with you, whatever you want.”

“Hmm,” you hum, taking a second to tighten your ponytail as you shoot him a playful little smile, “Whatever I want, huh?” 

“Name it,” he says lowly, watching appreciatively as you get on all fours. 

“Okay, how about…,” you stall, drawing out your words as you extend your legs behind you, grunting softly as your shoulder zings with pain once more, “Willie and Indiana Jo– Ah!” You cut yourself off, exclaiming in pain as you land with a small thud on the mat, wincing. 

“Whoa, hey,” Billy says softly, scrambling onto his knees, brows furrowed as he gingerly helps you roll over onto your back, “You okay?”

You nod, glancing away with a little embarrassed huff as you rub at your shoulder. “Yeah, it’s nothing. I just probably sprained it earlier during practice or something.”

“Lemme take a look at it,” he says, offering a hand to help you up.

Not expecting such chivalrous behavior from Hargrove of all people, you only nod dumbly and let him pull you up off the mat, chest heaving.

“Here,” he murmurs, gently nudging at your arm until you turn your back to him. You can hear the tumbling mat crinkle as he steps closer to you, the warmth from his chest practically radiating through his t-shirt as the spicy musk of his cologne seems to envelope you once again. 

“You better not be using this as an excuse to feel me up,” you warn, albeit playfully, pulling your ponytail over the opposite shoulder. 

“In your dreams,” he teases, goosebumps peppering your skin from the low way he says your name and from the gentle brush of his fingers over the back of your arm as they trail their way up to your shoulder. 

He’s silent for a moment, carefully pressing warm, slightly rough fingers against your skin, watching until you wince just slightly when he pokes at your shoulder blade. “That’s where it hurts?” 

“Mhm,” you nod, lips parting ever so slightly as he kneads around the area. You can practically feel him smirking when you sigh a moment later, his fingers working perfectly over the sore muscle as his other hand anchors itself at your hip, “You’re… actually, like, really good at this,” you murmur with a little laugh, needing to find some way to break the silence. 

“My mom is – was, she was a masseuse, back when we lived in Cali,” Billy explains, leaning in closer, his lips all but brushing against your ear as he speaks softly, like he’s telling you some deep, dark secret, “I might’ve looked at one or two of her books.” 

“Really?” You ask, brows furrowing as you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder.

“Sue me, I was thirteen and they had nudes in ‘em,” he chuckles, biting into his bottom lip when your breathy laugh morphs into a moan when he presses just right against your shoulder. The fingers of his other hand tighten on your hip as he pulls you back against him, his lips just barely grazing over the crook of your neck, “But I still picked up a thing or two.”

“Clearly,” you breathe, brows tugging together as you tilt your head to the side, an open invitation. The blond doesn’t need any more convincing and you let your eyes flutter shut as his lips descend upon your neck, pressing hot kisses against the sensitive skin. 

The rise and fall of your chest grows shallow as the two of you seem to lose yourselves; you gasp as the hand on your hip trails down over your thigh, until Billy can drag the tips of his fingers beneath the white and gold hem of your pleated skirt just as the hand on your shoulder begins slowly moving around your ribs, to your front. Despite the AC units humming away, you can’t help but feel flush as he presses himself against you, already half-hard against the small of your back. 

With a gasp, you jerk away from him at the sound of a door opening and closing in the hallway, muffled voices and laughter filtering in through the closed doors of the gym. 

“Dammit,” Billy mumbles behind you as he quickly glances at the clock hanging above one of the exits, sighing disappointedly when he sees the time – fifteen minutes until practice. 

Deciding to finally give in to the wants you’ve been harboring for months, you grab one of his hands and playfully bite your lip, nodding to one of the sets of gym doors, “Follow me.” 

Smirking, he follows behind you as you quickly make your way to the doors, both of you pausing for a second to make sure the coast is clear before you bolt down the hallway. A second later, you’re pushing Billy through a door into a random classroom.

“This is the old Health room,” you explain, gasping as he turns and presses you against the old door, the metal of it cool against your back as you quickly scan over the empty room, dim other than the early evening light spilling in through the thin slats of the blinds, “No one ever comes in here.”

“Uh huh, fascinating,” he nods, turning his head to spit his gum into a small trash can by the door, before eagerly pressing his lips to yours. He smirks into the kiss as you mewl, his lips parting to quickly swallow the sweet sounds you make.  

Always one to give as good as you get, your lips move against his just as fervently, both of your hands trailing up underneath his t-shirt as you rub over his stomach, muscles taut under your touch. His tongue slips into your mouth in the same second he presses against you, his thin gym shorts doing nothing to conceal the hardness of his length as it presses against your lower stomach. 

You arch into his touch as his hands cup your breasts through your uniform, a low growl rumbling through his chest as you rake your nails over his chest and down his stomach. Boldly, you reach down and palm at his cock, savoring the surprised grunt he lets out before you quickly nudge your hand down the front of his shorts and into his boxers. 

“Shit,” he breathes, one hand still kneading at your breast as the other skates back up your thigh, his forehead resting against yours. Biting your lip, you watch through hooded eyes as you experimentally stroke over his cock, marveling at how hard he already is, like velvet over steel. 

Just as you feel him twitch in your grasp, the blond pulls away from you with a teasing grin and presses one last kiss against your lips before tapping the back of your thighs, urging you to jump. 

“Fuck, there you go,” Billy rasps, fingers digging into the curve of your ass as you clamber up into his arms, your shoulder only barely smarting as you wrap your arms around his neck. “I gotcha,” his muscular biceps flex as he quickly walks a few feet from the door and deposits on you on top of the, thankfully barren, teacher’s desk pushed haphazardly into the corner. 

“Billy,” you sigh, the sound being practically pushed from your lungs as he presses himself back between your thighs, cheer skirt rumbled around your waist as he all but folds you in half – your hands cling to his shirt desperately, one leg wrapped securely around his hip as the other ends up slung nearly over his shoulder.

“Yeah, princess?” He taunts with a wolfish grin, smirking at the way the muscles of your thigh twitch as his fingers move toward your pussy, hardly hidden beneath your boyshorts. You all but levitate off the desk as two of his fingers swipe over your slit, the apples of your cheeks flushing when he chuckles triumphantly, the thin cotton doing nothing to hide how wet you are. “Finally gonna give me what I want?”

You can feel your ponytail bobbing wildly at the crown of your head when you nod, a whiny moan blooming from your lips when he moves his fingers in tight circles against your clit, the flimsy material of your underwear quickly dampening against his touch. 

“Yeah, yeah, Billy,” your hands tremble as you pull at his t-shirt, desperate for what you’ve been wanting for so long, “C’mon, please!”

“Easy, tiger,” he laughs, tongue running over his bottom lip as he easily tugs his shirt over his head, your own hands scrambling to push down your boyshorts. Taking mercy on you yet again, he helps you, eagerly tugging the white cotton down your legs. He damn near tears them in two as he pushes your underwear over one sneaker, letting them dangle from your ankle. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes, crowding against you again as you lean back on the desk, propped up on your elbows. You stare up at him, lips parted, as he all but folds you in half, warm hands pressing against the backs of your thighs, “Fucking leaking and I’ve barely touched you.”

“Oh!” You hiss, trying your hardest to keep your voice down, head thudding back against the desk as Billy quickly tugs his shorts down, just enough to get his cock out, and teasingly runs it through your folds, “Billy, oh my God, just do it!” You all but beg, teeth biting into your bottom lip at the wet sounds of him moving against you, deafeningly loud in the otherwise quiet room. 

Were you anywhere else, Billy would have absolutely no qualms about teasing you to within an inch of your life – payback for playing cat and mouse with him for almost three months straight. Lucky for you, he’s just as nervous at the thought of getting caught with his pants down as you are, shuddering to think what Neil would do if he got expelled over this. 

With a barely contained growl, he pushes into you, his cock sliding easily to the hilt with how wet you are. Your back arches off the desk as he slides home, stretching you beautifully as he fills you completely.

“Oh – oh my God,” you breathe as he stills, giving you a few seconds to adjust. Your hands scramble over the smooth top of the desk before you grab onto his wrists as his hands hook behind your knees. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans – the way he grumbles your name makes your walls clench around his length, punching another grunt from his chest as he starts shallowly thrusting against you, grinding his hips against yours. 

The two of you dissolve into a flurry of breathy mewls and sighs, each of you desperately trying to keep quiet as the muffled sounds of skin against skin and the dull creaking of the desk fill the room. Your eyelids flutter as you watch Billy above you, golden curls bouncing with each of his thrusts as a light sheen of sweat covers his tanned chest. 

Grunting lowly, he presses harder against the backs of your thighs, practically pressing your kneecaps against the desk below you, blue eyes sparkling as you easily follow his movements. With the small change in angles, the head of his cock thrusts perfectly against that sensitive spot within you, and he grins triumphantly as you tremble beneath him. 

“That the spot, princess?” He questions, smirking when you nod your head with a little broken squeak, “Fuck, I can’t wait to get you in a bed – bet you can bend in all kinds of pretty ways, huh?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah, Billy,” you agree, willing to agree to just about anything as long as he keeps moving. You can hardly contain the moans spilling from your lips as he works you higher and higher, the adrenaline from the possibility of getting caught as well as the rush of finally having him making you rush toward your end faster than you normally would. 

Breathing heavily as your pussy clenches at his cock, he lets go of one of your thighs and shoves your shirt up, unceremoniously taking your bra with it. You bite at the back of one hand as he teases at your breasts, using one hand to pinch and pull at one nipple before moving to the other as he stares down at you with half-lidded eyes, brows furrowed in concentration. 

“O-Oh, my – fuck, I’m –” You moan brokenly, squirming beneath him as you feel yourself nearing the edge, teeth biting desperately into your bottom lip as you claw at his forearm and waist. 

Cockily licking over his lips, Billy leans forward as he grinds against you, his hips putting pressure on your clit as he covers your mouth with one hand, propping himself up against the desk with an elbow as his other still grasps at the back of your knee. 

You squeeze him tightly as the tail end of his happy trail rubs deliciously over you, giving you just enough stimulation to throw you over the edge. 

“Yeah, princess,” he encourages, grunting with nearly every thrust into you as he feels you clenching around him, pushing him further and further toward his own edge as he clenches his jaw, determined to hang on as long as possible. 

After only a few more thrusts, he quickly pulls out with a small groan. “Fuck, fuck,” he pants, chest heaving as he strokes his cock, painting your lower belly with stripes of his release.

Both of you still for a moment, breathing heavily as you each come down. Half expecting Billy to simply get dressed again and leave, you’re surprised when he softly kisses you, more relaxed this time, as his warm breath fans over your cheek. Dazedly, you kiss him back, your lips moving together unhurriedly as you card your fingers through the sweat-damp curls at the nape of his neck. 

After a moment, you part and your lips quirk up into a shy smile as he moves back half a step, giving you enough room to sit up. 

“Oh, uh,” you breathe, looking down when you feel his cum cooling against your skin. Glancing around the room, you pout a little when you don’t see any tissues or paper towels, “There’s paper towels in the locker room?” You offer, looking over at Billy, watching as he quickly tugs his shorts back into place. 

“I got it,” he says with a small smirk and before you have time to question what he means, he quickly tugs your underwear off your ankle and uses them to wipe at your skin, grinning meanly when you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Jackass!” You exclaim, laughing softly despite yourself, “That’s the only pair I have with me!”

“Nothing wrong with going commando, sweetness,” he says with a wink, chuckling when you wrinkle your nose at the thought while you pull your bra and shirt back into place, “Come back to my place and I’ll was ‘em for you, my parents don’t get back until late, anyway.” 

“You just want a round two,” you laugh, hopping off the desk and straightening out your skirt the best you can before running your hands over your hair, trying to smooth out your ponytail. 

“Told you I was gonna fold you up all pretty,” Billy smirks, crowding against you yet again once he tugs his shirt back on and lightly grasping at your jaw, “Something tells me you won’t have a problem with that either.”

“That’s presumptuous, don’t you think?” 

“Sure, yeah, I dunno what that means, princess,” he says, grinning when you laugh, your hands pressed against his chest as he quickly tucks your boyshorts into the waistband of his shorts, “Just come back to my place, hm?”

“What about basketball practice? Jason hates when people ditch.”

“You really think I give a shit about what Carver wants?” Billy laughs, taking one of your hands in his as he makes his way toward the door.

“Okay, okay, fine,” you finally agree, rolling your eyes playfully as you let him pull you out into the hall.

“And come with me to the Halloween party?”

“You have quite a list of demands, Hargrove.”

“Hey,” he says with a little shrug, glancing at you as you walk side by side toward the locker rooms, “That’s what you get for teasing me.”

You merely giggle as the two of you round a corner, nearly freezing and nervously glancing over at Billy when you come across Steve, chest heaving as he leans over a water fountain. 

Standing straight, he wipes at his lips with the back of his hand, narrowing his eyes at Billy, watching as he quickly scoops up his duffle bag from where he’d tossed it down earlier in the hallway. “Dude, why’re you leaving? You’re almost, like, half an hour late for practice.”

“Yeah, well, tell Carver something came up,” the blond boy huffs dismissively before taking your hand once more. You shoot a bashful smile at Steve, blushing as you and Billy walk toward the doors out to the parking lot. 

Behind you, Steve takes a minute to connect the dots, brows furrowing as he plants his hands on his hips. After a second, his eyes widen and he shakes his head. 

“Come on, at school?” He calls down the hallway, shaking his head as you and Billy laugh, “Fucking animals, man.”

gen tags: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @imawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @fan-goddess @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc @moonriseoverkyoto @wolfdressedinlace @do-double-g @kennafild @cruelworldlana @mheraxes @eternallyvenus @chaotic-fangirl-blog @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[clairomatt]

fresh love ݁ .˚★⋆

in which, chris gets turned on by fem!reader wearing his brand.

warnings, smut smut smut. pinv. pet names. smut with minimal plot. fluff if u squint.

inspired by this fic by @chrissturnsfav

chris and nate had been playing the new fortnite season for longer than you had hoped… it had been almost 2 hours of them screaming back and forth through discord after losing each game. your boyfriend was determined to win a round, but you were determined to get his attention.

“chris? come to bed?” you spoke, walking towards his desk kissing the top of his head gently.

“one more game baby…” he said, looking up at you with those doe eyes which made it impossible to be mad at him.

you nodded at him, a little annoyed but willing to stay up and wait for him.

“yo nate, gotta piss. one sec.” you heard him say, watching him walk into the bathroom.

as chris got up, you noticed a cardboard box with the words ‘FRESH LOVE’ labelled on the front sitting under his desk. you remembered chris telling you that the sample shirts for his brand had come in today, that must be them.

you rummaged through the box, eventually finding your size and pulling it over your head. walking to your shared closet, you picked out a black lacy thong that you thought shouldn’t even be counted as underwear. even though it was uncomfortable, you couldn’t deny you that you looked damn good in it. you knew for a fact chris thought so too.

quickly checking yourself out in the mirror, you shoved the rest of the shirts back in the box. chris walked out of the bathroom, adjusting his gray sweatpants and and heading back towards his desk.

he glanced in your direction, immediately stopping in his tracks.

“yo- what… ” was all he managed to say, his eyes travelling down to your thighs, scanning your body quickly. his jaw slacking when he noticed you were wearing his clothing brand, and pretty much nothing else.

chris rubbed his jaw, looking you up and down in disbelief.

“you like?” you said, with a tiny smile on your face. feeling a little embarrassed now that he was shamelessly checking you out like this.

“do i like? baby… fuck.” he replied, running his hands through his hair, mouth practically watering.

“chris, bruh c’mon” nate spoke, through the speakers of chris’s headphones.

“yeah uhh. i’ll hit you later nate.. gotta go,” chris said, not taking his eyes off of you.

he smirked at you as his hand grabbed your ass, the other firmly gripping your waist. the makeout was anything but gentle, mouths working together feverishly. you felt his hands everywhere, gripping onto your ass, grabbing your jaw and slowly finding their way up your shirt.

chris let out a low groan against you as you tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck. breaking away from the heated kiss, chris tugged at the bottom of your shirt, asking for permission to lift it up. you nodded quickly, going to pull the fresh love shirt over your head before chris grabbed your wrist.

“keepin’ this on..” he says, scrunching the shirt above your tits and beginning to kiss dark bruises into your skin, decorating your chest with purple spots. he pulled away, grinning, as he admired his work.

you were already out of breath, heart beating out of your chest when chris whispered, “bed, baby?”

chris on top of you would always be your favourite sight. the way his eyes never left yours, the way his hair fell slightly over his face, how his breath hitched when your fingernails dragged down his back.

he leaned over you, nudging your legs open with his knee. his hand traveled down your body, stopping where the thin material of the thong sat on your hip. he hooked his finger under the string of your underwear, tapping your leg asking you to lift your hips so he could pull the black lace down…disregarding it somewhere on his bedroom floor.

“there ya’ go.. my pretty girl” chris whispered slowly, his slight boston accent peeking out as it always did during sex.

his hand came up to tuck your hair behind your ear, “so beautiful” he said, thumbing your cheek slowly, looking straight into your eyes.

“..chris…” you spoke as chris shifted his weight on the mattress, his boner becoming incredibly noticeable as it grazed against your stomach. “need you now.”

he pulled the grey sweats down, revealing a pair of cream colored skims underwear. you were practically foaming at the mouth at the sight of him.

you tugged at the boxers, freeing his dick. you watched his jaw clench as he pumped himself up and down before kissing you on the forehead and lining up with your entrance.

as he slowly pushed himself into you, you couldn’t help but sharply inhale at the stretch, squeezing your eyes tightly shut. you had forgotten how the burn felt, you had forgotten how big he was.

“..shit. good girl… almost there..” chris says in your ear through heavy breathing and almost moans.

it was gentle at first, chris taking his time with every roll of his hips, enjoying every tiny noise that slipped from your lips. until he couldn’t be gentle anymore.

noises of skin slapping and heaving breathing filled the room. chris was snapping his hips fast into you whilst you were tugging at his curls, saying his name over and over again like a prayer. chris let out a guttural groan when you involuntarily clenched around him, “…fuck. that’s’it…” he said, lifting your leg up to rest on his shoulder.

chris looked down to where your bodies connected, surprised to see your stomach bulging with every thrust of his hips. “baby…fuck. look at that huh?…s’perfect f’me..” he panted in-between moans, pressing down gently on the bulge that had formed.

you knew that you were already close, but this had pushed you over the edge. he was so deep inside of you, you could feel him everywhere, and with the added pressure of his hand on your stomach, it was all too much. “chris… shit. ‘gonna cum..fuck fuck fuck.” you responded.

this only made chris go faster… and harder. he was kissing your neck, whispering “let go baby..come on” into your ears, and that just about did it.

you were cumming, hard. you wrapped your legs around his waist, hands gripping his shoulders tight. & then, he was right there with you.

you gasped as he pulled out of you quickly, rolling over to his side of the bed. chris extended his arm out to you, patting the mattress next to him. you shuffled closer, fitting right under his arm laying your head on his chest. you were both panting as if you had just run a marathon, and you definitely felt like you had.

“…holy shit.” chris said, looking down at you with a goofy smile on his face.

AN : first ever fic / smut !!! long time sturniolo tumblr lurker, but finally posting something

thank u for reading🤍 -em

[lacy-oh-lacy]

*cough* agatha with a controversially young lover *cough*

✧₊⁺ 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟

𝐀/𝐍: I'm combining this with another request for Agatha and a virgin reader because it seemed like a very natural fit. I hope that's okay.

𝐂𝐖: Age gap (reader's in their 20s), Virgin!Reader, Dom!Agatha, Oral (Agatha receiving), fingering, accidental exposure, slightly mean domming

Agatha called you out for eyefucking her the first time you met. Reveling in the flustered panic that followed.

“What? No, no, I um- I didn't mean to-”

“Oh, relax twerp, it takes more than a horny Zoomer to make me clutch my pearls.”

As unimpressed as she seemed with you though, that wasn't the last time she sought you out.

Because apparently, despite your age you made the best potions of anyone in the state, and her need for one drove her right up the grungy stairwell to your apartment.

Dressed to the nines in her expensive blazer and fancy updo, she looked almost comical outside your door, glaring through the threshold. “I'm here for the potion.”

“Shhh.” You ushered her inside, glancing over your shoulder. “My roommates don't know… about my extracurriculars.”

“Of course you have roommates.”

Of course that was the only part of your statement she addressed.

“It’s finished, come in.”

She followed you to your bedroom, a sad little thing, half taken up by your desk alone.

Your college textbooks were pushed precariously to the side to make way for your supplies, from which you plucked a vial and handed it to her.

“Here you go.”

Agatha held it to the light, examining the dark liquid inside with something like approval sparkling in her eyes… At least until you opened your mouth.

“That'll be 500 dollars.” You said, wincing as her inspecting gaze turned to wide, fiery eyes. “...Mam.”

“500 dollars? Are you joking?”

“Sorry. College is expensive.”

You wisely didn't mention that most of your customers were a lot less magically experienced than her and easier to gouge.

“I didn't even bring 500 dollars.”

You sighed. You could -as was evident- really use the money but you weren't going to pick a fight with The Agatha Harkness over it, that was for sure.

“Fine. 100.”

She huffed but reached into a pocket and handed you the bill.

“Great. Just great. Ya know, if you think I'm wound tight now you should see me on a budget.”

“Uh huh.” You couldn't muster sympathy for her if you tried, you doubted you could even brew a potion to. “I'd think at your level you could just magic-up whatever you want... I'm not even sure why you need me.”

Nerve struck, her only reply was a withering glare as she tucked the potion away in an inner pocket of her jacket.

Talking just to fill the silence, shooting your shot because you figured you weren't going to make her any more pissed off, you continued,

“If stress relief is what you're after there are other ways. Free ones.”

You didn't know if she'd catch your meaning, you thought it might be better if she didn't, but oh, she did.

Suddenly, you were the center of Agatha Harkness’ attention, a gleam in her eye and a smirk twisting her face.

“You offering one?”

Your stomach lurched. Did that actually work?

You clawed inwards for any shreds of confidence, enough to get out, “I, well, I could be-”

“That what the discount was for? You wanted a different kind of payment?”

And that threw you off completely.

“What? No, no I-”

“Careful.” She teased. “A sweet little thing like you really shouldn't be offering up what you're not willing to part with.”

She was fucking with you.

And you stumbled right into her trap with no thoughts of getting out.

“I'm not, I mean, I am, I'm willing, if you…”

As much as she clearly enjoyed chewing on your embarrassment, you could tell her patience was thinning by the straining look on her face. She wasn't going to stand there all day waiting for you to get a sentence out.

Fuck it.

Agatha Harkness respects bravery you rationalized, seconds before your lips hit hers.

The terror of free-falling only faded as her lips pushed back against your own, returning your kiss with one more domineering, more violent. So heated your brain was almost melting.

Agatha pulled back, but with swelling lips you hardly felt the difference.

“You sure you know what you're getting yourself into?”

You nodded dumbly, “I’m really into you.”

“Oh, I know you are, Hon, that's not what I'm asking.” Her tone was dark and steady, as soft as a caress. “Do you honestly think you can handle me?”

You swallowed, eyes locked on hers against every instinct to avert them.

“I-I’ll try my best.”

She laughed, a breathy kind of cackle that left a wicked grin on her face.

“Prove it.”

Her hands on your shoulders turned heavy and almost thoughtlessly you sank to your knees under their strength.

“You want me to…?”

She gave you that same look again, like she was waiting for you to catch up and running low on patience.

“Okay… wow, um…”

Your hands, so steady and precise an hour ago while you worked, shook as you reached for Agatha's zipper.

This couldn't have been real, you waited with bated breath for her to slap your hands away.

For someone to jump out of your closet laughing.

For her to pull out a dagger and slit your throat in some kind of virgin sacrifice ritual, because, hey, what was more likely, Agatha Harkness fucking you or killing you?

But her zipper went down, and with a huff Agatha pushed her pants and panties down right along with it.

Holy fuck.

You nearly moaned at the sight of the most perfect cunt you had ever seen in your life. Which was redundant, but it was the only thought your fritzed, virgin brain would supply.

But with white-hot lust came a knot in your stomach as it dawned on you that hundreds of years of experience was staring you down.

How could you possibly live up to that? Be adequate even?

“This is where you lick it.”

You startled at her gravelly voice.

Right. Try now, wallow in your inevitable failure later.

“Should we lock the door first?” you asked, glancing at your crudely installed cheap lock.

“I don't know, should we?” She asked rhetorically, looking like she was seconds away from pushing your head where she wanted it herself.

“Right, nevermind.”

You dove forward, licking straight up her slit and earning a catch in the older woman's breath.

Was she surprised? Expecting you to back out just as much as you expected her to?

Wetness gathered on your tongue, a taste of pure sex that made your head spin. You heard yourself moan. Go figure you’d be the first one to.

You lapped greedily at her cunt, a sloppy exploration that you could've spent an eternity on, but Agatha wasn't having that.

“More.” She exclaimed, halfway between a moan and a growl.

You weren't too inexperienced to know what that meant.

You dragged your tongue up and prodded around for her clit, barely making out the little bud.

Okay. Now what?

You wracked your brain for sex tips. The alphabet trick? Did that even work in real life?

Testing the waters, you used your tongue to spell out your name on her clit, and in a flood of relief and liquid heat you heard a breathy, little moan above you.

Her bundle of nerves swelled under your tongue, hardening into something defined, something easy to play with.

“Oh! That's it! That's a good girl.”

God, she was gonna make you cum on the spot talking like that.

Lust caving in your brain, your licks dissolved to messy, thoughtless circles and crosses. Not that Agatha seemed to mind.

You glanced up at her with hazy vision. Her arm was pressed to her forehead, fist closed as tightly as her eyes. She was already so close.

Possessed by a desperate need to give her that final push over the edge you brought your fingers to her pussy, sliding two inside of her in a gentle thrust.

Agatha moaned through gritted teeth, clenching hard around you while you curled inside her, grazing her g-spot.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Saliva and Agatha’s own wetness dripped down her legs, down your hand, down your chin. She trembled beneath you, breath hitching and coming back a choked sob.

Violent flutters errupted beneath your tongue and around your fingers, but you didn't dare ease up without her command, you didn't until she broke off panting.

“Easy, Tiger, what are you doing? Going for two?” She all but gasped out.

“Sorry.” You said, no more composed yourself. “So, um, was that okay?”

She laughed, “yeah, you did good.” As if remembering that she was the wicked witch of Westview she twisted her features into something meaner. “But don't get too cocky, it's been a long time for me.”

Before you could be proud of the praise or offended by it being cut down you jolted -nearly out of your skin- with the click of your door opening.

“Woah! Ever heard of a sock on the door?”

Oh fuck.

You couldn't even look at your roommate. Wide, apologetic eyes on a groaning Agatha pulling her pants up. Annoyed but not quite embarrassed about this stranger getting an eyeful of her ass.

With her own scolding gaze burning into yours you could only cringe deeply, watching as any chance of Agatha returning the favor faded into the abyss.

“I gotta say, I think this warrants a refund.”