#flesh ice beer

[2tarbell]

sigh no cause to!rafe w his work stained clothes and heavy hands but being super gentle w reader and touching her tits after drinking an ice cold beer, laughing when she freezes up and nipples harden

no literally like… sitting on his lap in that thrifted recliner and watching some shitty tv show, wearing only one of his large t shirts and him still in his work clothes. she made them dinner and greeted him at the door, happy to see her man home after a long day!

soon as they finished eating, he scooped her up and plopped down in the worn chair. he thinks it’s sooooo funny how invested she gets in every single thing they watch. she’s sitting sideways in his lap and he has one arm wrapped around her waist and the other bringing a beer to and from his lips. he smells so good, musky and manly in the way only he can and it makes her nuzzle closer and closer.

‘course (even tho he’s exhausted) he loves to play with his girl. rafe sets the beer down on the coaster she always asks him to use and snakes that cold palm up her shirt to hold her tit. the action is familiar, but usually his hands are warm. so she flinches and glares at him, but there’s that adoring sparkle in her eyes. he has a shit eating grin on and chuckles at the way she tries to squirm, mumbling about ‘s’cold, daddy, stop…’

rafe only holds her tighter, kneading the plush flesh in his large, calloused hand. the way her nipple pebbles is from a combination of arousal and the temperature of his skin. nothing puts him at ease after a shitty day of work like holding his girl and he starts shifting his hips up into her panty clad ass.

“i know, i know — dad’s so mean, huh? jus’ needed you allll day, sugar… didja miss me?”

the wet patch on her panties is all the answer he needs before he’s pulling them to the side and unbuckling his belt. the sound pavlovian and she’s quick to reach a hand down to pull his eager cock out. rafe sipping on his beer while she sinks down on him and rolls her hips in a way that leaves him breathless.

[artyandink]

broken caution tape

Summary: You knew that you wouldn’t be able to resist the tension from your encounter with Dean and the shifter mafia. You just didn’t expect either of you to cave that quickly. But are either of you complaining? Absolutely not.

A/N - Sequel to my drabble ‘necessary precautions’!

A/N 2 - Am I having a hard time keeping my concentration with that gif? Oh, absolutely.

TW: Smut, oral (f. receiving), fingering, marking (f. and m. receiving), protected sex (wrap it before you tap it), beer play/temperature play, pussy + thigh slapping, switch Dean, switch reader

You were having a hard time keeping your h-head. Especially with- mmh, right there.

Dean’s lips were hot and fast on your neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake from where he had you against the island of the crappy motel, but did either of you care? No.

Dean didn’t care when he got to mark up your skin all pretty like that, seeing you arch into him and offer more of you to claim.

You didn’t care when your head spun, breath was stolen and eyelashes fluttered upon feeling his hands all over your body, tracing the shape and memorising it. Kneading your thigh over that tight little skirt. Finding the spot just under your ear which had you letting out a sinful moan that sent him to heaven every time he nipped and sucked on it. Running his hand right over your chest and feeling the uneven surface that was a lace bra. Over your blouse.

It had to go.

The trigger had simply been seeing your lips take a long and fulfilling sip (fulfilling to his imagination, at least) of an ice cold beer to celebrate for an undercover mission well done before he found himself snapping. Slamming his beer and yours down on the counter. Attacking your neck with lips, teeth and tongue until he practically had to hold you up with an arm around your waist and a strong hand massaging the flesh of your knee up to your upper thigh. So close to where you really needed him. While he was driven mad by your desperate, needy mewls. While he occasionally lifted his head and took your jaw, guiding you so he could kiss you senseless.

Dean considered it a blessing that you weren’t slapping the sense out of him when he’d done such a sudden act and instead allowed him to make you putty underneath his skilled hands and lips (both of which are weapons of mass destruction, however good they look), and especially allowed him to tear your blouse open and chuck it God knows where.

Dean’s eyes locked on your lacy bra, his mouth drying until it felt like the Sahara. “Sweet Jesus, baby.”

His hand faltered on its way to undo your bra when you desperately rocked your clothed pussy forward, meeting Dean’s want through his slacks and eliciting a mix of a hiss and groan as his forehead fell to your bare shoulder. He recovered within a moment, making quick work of the lace and letting it drop carelessly, grabbing the icy beer he’d been drinking from, taking a swig and swirling it around his mouth before swallowing heavily, eyes glued to you with a gaze so intense it could form a diamond.

“You wanna celebrate, sweetheart?” He took another sip, keeping it in his mouth for exactly seven seconds (yes, you counted how long he wasn’t touching you for) before gulping it down. “Let’s… goddamn… celebrate.”

You hadn’t realised why he’d kept the cold beer in his mouth for so long until the chill of his mouth and tongue started lavishing your nipple.

“D-Dean!” You arched into him with a sharp intake of breath followed by a moan tumbling from your lips and many others - rather avalanche-esque - your hand tightening in his hair, nails raking his scalp and the dip between his shoulder blades. He groaned, his hand that hadn’t touched the beer moving to tweak, flick, pinch and pull the other hardened nipple with a rhythm you knew only he could set, like he was a conductor and you a violin.

Katy Perry got it wrong; it’s not ‘yes and no’, it’s ‘yes and Jesus holy Christ, Almighty above, hell… yes’. The title could not be more applicable to how Dean’s ministrations felt on your skin.

But nothing could describe how overwhelmingly good it felt.

Oh, zoo wee mama, you were a goner.

Dean felt like his head was spinning so much it could be diagnosed as some wacky type of vertigo. That’s what your perfume and the sight of you bowing your back, pretty lips parted and moaning out his name did to him. He grabbed your thighs, and you did right by jumping and wrapping your legs around his waist, his hands splayed over the underside of your thighs to keep you upright as he quickly made his way to the bed, throwing you down and instantly starting to tug off his own tie as you removed your panties.

The tie was being so damn stubborn.

Dean hissed in frustration, trying to get the knot out so he could ravish the gorgeous woman on his bed, but it wouldn’t come undone. So, in a fit of rage (and barely controlled lust) he ripped the tie clean off, giving his shirt the same treatment and roughly throwing them to the floor.

You would have giggled had it not been for your post mind-blowing foreplay haze, but you were already nose deep in it. A whine was all you could manage as he grabbed your ankles, pulling them so they almost hit the edge of the bed, your skirt off in a blink. Seems like he had a thing for the thigh highs, cause they were kept on while your heels were discarded. Dean’s hands flying forward to grip your hips, lift them up and slide a pillow under just as his cold mouth zeroed in on your clit.

Move. Squirm. Shy away. Do anything.

Nope. Move closer to the source. Yeah, that’s it. That’s the goal. Attagirl.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t shy away with the angle he’d put your hips on the pillow, and even if you tried, the fingers that you hadn’t even noticed he put in your pussy and began thrusting would slip out to deliver a quick smack before delving back in. “Can’t give me a gift like you in that tight-ass excuse for Fed threads and not expect somethin’ back- God, m’gonna wreck this pretty pussy.” He growled against your clit, sending wave upon wave of dizzying vibrations that made your head fall back as it wracked through your body.

What was once you trying to pull away from the onslaught turned into needy pushes against his icy, talented tongue, which prompted him to suck harshly just as he crooked his thick fingers, hitting your g-spot with a bullseye better than when he could hit with a gun, having you fall apart for him oh-so easily.

“Mnh-” You felt deliciously helpless as your thighs shook and moved to close around his head, but you learnt from a quick yet firm slap on the thigh that you shouldn’t interrupt him when he’s lapping at your pussy like a starved man, drinking every last bit of you like you were the last bit of water in an endless desert.

The man was very busy.

But even when you thought you needed a break from the total knockout you experienced in the mano a mano match between you and Dean frickin’ Winchester’s tongue, his tongue started tracing his name on your clit, fingers beginning to pump at a fast pace. Occasionally letting his tongue dip and thrust inside your pussy and pulling his fingers out for them to deliver smacks at irregular intervals that had you whining and begging before thrusting back in to work you over just right.

“Dean, Dean-” Was all you could get out in the present climate, but then begs for him to not stop spilled from your mouth. You could feel his smirk as he did that figure eight thing with his tongue that broke you and tore your next climax from you as well as your ability to stay on Planet Earth, instead seeing what the solar system probably did every day. Stars upon stars, the corner of your vision blacking out and blurring even as Dean lifted his head, licking his glistening lips, looking like a vision with hair sticking up from all ends due to your hand tightening, loosening and roughing it up.

“You’re so gorgeous like that, sweetheart.” He murmured, pressing open mouthed kisses to the expanse of your body, yet only then did your eyebrows shoot up and pussy clamp on a pair of fingers scissoring you open. He hadn’t removed them, and the knuckle of his index was pressing against your g-spot with every spread and exposure of the heated air to you, a relief due to the icy sensations of the moment before.

Dean’s lips reached yours, capturing them and claiming them, making sure they were nice and swollen for him, marking them as his. He hoped that you’d remember this every single time you wore that damn FBI getup from now on. The kiss was enough to probably make Lucifer blush, all sloppy and full of moans while he rocked against you, realising that he’d still had his slacks on.

That was an easy fix.

His belt whipped off, discarded somewhere Dean couldn’t bother to note as his slacks and boxers came down too, his fingers still working and working you. But not bringing you anywhere close to release. Enough to tease, to make you shake and drive you mad. You were too busy to notice him reaching somewhere, pants and huffs of breath coming from him.

“God, you’re so…” Dean moaned when he felt your pussy clamp down on his scissoring fingers, so his final string of control was cut in an instant. He yanked his fingers out, quickly sucked them clean in one pass through his mouth and then entered you, thrusting hard and deep, watching your eyes for when he was comfortable to move again. He hadn’t bottomed out, but god, were you like a vice. “Talk to me, darlin’. Tell me if it’s good.”

“S’good.” You babbled, your hand reaching up to bury in his hair again, and then he thrust again, going in a bit deeper and feeling your pussy clamping down on his cock in the most delicious way.

It had his eyes rolling back, a strangled groan leaving his mouth. “So tight, baby. So damn- oh, hell.” His head fell against your shoulder before he sloppily thrust again, the action erratic but still getting a simultaneous, loud, unadulterated sound from the both of you. Eventually, after slow, deep, hard thrusts, he found you adjusting to him and his size, so he began to pick up the pace while keeping the accuracy, brushing your g-spot and bottoming out every time, keeping a close, watchful eye on you through half-lidded eyes and sweat rolling down his temple. His hands gripping your hips and rolling the both of you over so you were on top.

Well hell, if that wasn’t a blaring invitation.

You began moving up and down, raising yourself until the tip of his cock was inside you before lowering and taking him in, keeping it up as you bent, your teeth finding the soft skin of his toned chest, sucking and biting until you left a bruise. Relishing his groan and his hands flying to grip you, one at your hip and the other tangling in your hair. “Just like that. Mark me up real pretty, baby. Mark me good.” He moaned, eyes rolling back.

“Oh, trust me, I will.” You murmured, leaving a line of hickeys up until the underside of his jaw, then veering off course to find the one below his ear that he’d found on you earlier. It had his hips stuttering and bucking up so he could thrust into you, but you clicked your tongue and nipped at his neck as a warning. “No, handsome. Let me do the work.”

“God, yeah.” Dean nodded immediately, loving the fact that he could look in the mirror and see your marks on his skin. “Mmh, baby, keep going. M’so close, d-don’t stop. Please, d-don’t stop, sweetheart.”

You were about to get out a word when the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit, and then all sense of them failed you. Oh-Oh damn.

“R-Right there with you, love you, god- oh, hell- damn it to hell.” You moaned, making an extra effort to latch your mouth onto his pulse point and suck.

“M-Mhmm, l-love you too, baby, so-so much, so goddamn close, g-gonna-” That caught confession, and the last bounce of you on his cock, sent Dean tumbling over the edge. Nails digging into your hips at a bruising force, eyes rolling back and thrusting up into you by planting his feet on the bed so you came with him about four and a half thrusts later, pulling you down by your hair to kiss you deeply, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths.

Still trying to process the aftershocks once you’d rolled off him and onto the bed beside him, your legs most likely jelly from riding Dean and also getting pounded into by him.

Eventful night.

You’d begun to realise that you may not have used a condom, but then you looked to you your right and saw Dean propped up on an elbow, depositing a filled one in the bin along with a silver wrapper that had clearly been torn with his teeth. “You, uh, got that on with one hand?”

“I’ve had practice.” Dean grinned back, swinging his legs over the bed and walking over to your side, lifting you up bridal style, laying a kiss on your forehead. “Let’s run a bath, once we’re dry I’ll change the sheets, and then we can cuddle, go to bed, the nine yards. Sound good, sweetheart?”

“Sounds great.” You sighed, leaning your head against his chest as he took you inside the bathroom, setting you on the edge of the bath, turning the valves and letting the water flow into the bath, dipping in a hand to check it was the right temperature. Once he was sure, he lifted you and set you in before getting in himself. You manoeuvred yourself so your back was against his chest, and he hummed in approval as well as surprise, letting his arms encircle your waist protectively. “Why are you carrying me everywhere? D’you think my legs aren’t working?”

You heard a low chuckle in your ear, then felt the slow press of his lips against your cheek, a stark and sweet contrast from the mind-blowing sex five minutes ago. It was hard to believe it even happened, what with the soft touches of his hand rubbing over you and cleaning you of the remnants of the recent - ahem - activity, making sure to avoid your overstimulated pussy.

You were glad he did.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Dean’s voice rumbled in your ear as his thumb nudged your chin so you’d look him in his emerald eyes, which were lit up with mischief that only he could pull off. “After I just railed that tight lil’ pussy? You won’t be able to walk for at least a week.”

Your squeak of surprise was silenced by the honeyed kiss he planted on your lips.

I’d appreciate a like, comment and/or reblog! Make sure to do this for all your favourite writers so they get inspiration!

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[octoberautumnbox]

Discordant Waltz: Friday

Oh Sieun ICE Oh Rosi (Former IZ*ONE/Soloist Jo Yuri) & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: smut, anal, uniform, clothed sex, rough anal, uhh anal, loud sex, fuck buddy, fwb, ANAL

Word count: 1.9k

| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 (coming soon) |

a/n: Based very loosely on Friday by IU actually, but like in a really really perverted way. Also based on Hang On by Jo Yuri babygurl lol. I hope the emotions I want to portray come across well lmao

Your phone buzzed as you set it at 0% volume. The sparkly bits of the curb shone the orange sunlight into your eyes. Worried about Sieun, you resolved to be a bit early for your regular Friday "date" with her, but the loud angry voices and clanging sounds coming from within her house gave you the impression that she was… busy. At this rate, the six-pack of beer you brought for the two of you would be warm before you even see her.

You leaned back onto the side of her house, waiting for the noises to stop, fiddling with your phone, picking at the gravel beneath your shoes. It was a good spot, the one you’re sitting at, just out of view from the front door in case anyone leaves. You’re not here to intrude, just worried about your… friend. Yeah, just a friend.

Friends look out for each other, after all. They’re supposed to offer support in the times and ways their friends need them to. That’s all you’re doing, just offering support to your friend. Your friend who invites you over to her house to fuck on a weekly basis. Your friend who recently came her brains out in a school restroom with you. Your friend whose visuals while sucking your cock are burned into your mind and easily accessible whenever you need a quick release. 

A voice rings loud from near their front door. You try to hide yourself more, but with such an open space, there’s not much to do. You’re sure you hear Sieun yelling, followed by a loud slam of a door and trudging steps leading away from the house. 

You place your phone in your backpack and, once the coast is clear, you walk up quietly, respectfully, to the poor front door. Before your knuckles come into contact with the wood, the door swings open to reveal your friend, teary-eyed and distraught.

“Look, I– I’m fine,” she says between sobs and ragged breaths. She keeps her eyes shut and covered with her hands as she tries her best not to ruin her makeup. “There’s no reason to…”

You cut her off then and there; whatever’s bothering her can wait. The door shuts and she suddenly finds her back is shoved up against the wall and your hands on her shoulders. Your sudden attack catches her off guard, but your friend is more than willing to let your tongue into her mouth like she always does. She moans a little moan as you lick her tongue back, and she places her hands on each of your cheeks to keep you in place. 

Pull away and give her some breathing room. Notice her unsteady breathing, her tears running down her cheeks. “I brought beer,” you mention casually as if you didn’t just take her breath away, “might be warm by now. Let’s drink it after.”

“I-” is all she can say before you come in for another torrid kiss. Despite a bit more hesitance from her, she welcomes your tongue back in her mouth and tries to match your energy. Run your hands down the sides of her uniform and reach the hem of her skirt. Without breaking the kiss, you open your eyes and find hers closed, with a tear forming and falling down her cheek. She must be really upset. 

Thinking she must really need this, you choose not to waste any more time and grab your friend's ass through her panties under her skirt. She lets out an “ah~” when she feels you kneading the flesh of her butt and melts back into your kiss deeply. You pick her up by her behind, and her legs wrap around your waist as she gets lifted up off the ground. 

You’ve done this a million times by now; you know the way from the front door to her bedroom like the back of your hand. You know it so well that it was no issue at all to carry her there without breaking the kiss. Throw her onto the mattress, forcing her bedframe to groan and creak like you’ve heard countless nights before. She looks at you expectantly, maybe a bit scared, definitely like she forgot about what was on her mind earlier. Now you’ve got her. 

Your shirt leaves your body and you join her in bed, taking your royal place beside her. She captures your lips with hers again, but surprisingly just after a few seconds she pulls you down to her neck. 

Thinking nothing of the new "interests" she now has, you attack her neck, gently biting and licking at her skin and causing her to groan at the feeling of you ravaging previously untouched territory. You enjoy how she feels against your lips and the sweet smell of her long hair that you’ve never been allowed to sniff before. 

She brings your hand over to her thighs, and you graciously start squeezing them and feeling her soft and smooth skin. You found it weird she hasn't asked for your dick yet, but you gather she's still shaken from her earlier fight with whoever that was. Give her time to settle, but also give her the love she needs.

Feeling her thighs warming up, you inch your hand closer to her waiting core. Her legs part and allow access, and you find a large wet spot right over her sex. Pull aside the thin fabric and trace circles around her nub, bite and pull at the skin of her neck. She grows wetter by the second, and moans spill out of her mouth faster than you can rub her off. 

"No marks, please…" she whimpers, obviously flustered but not yet fully needy: just a bit more. 

You respond with another kiss and an attempt to insert two fingers into her leaking pussy, but she pushes your hand away.

“In my ass…” She whispers quietly to you, as if ashamed of wanting it. Your friend shifts to lie on her side and face away from you, presenting you with her pink, virgin asshole. 

Never minding her choices for today, you reach for a condom and the unopened bottle of lube in her nightstand. You strip yourself of your pants and put the rubber on by yourself. You slather lube first on your erect cock, and put some on your fingers before sliding one of them into your friend's butt. 

"Oh oppa, that's good…" she moans as you invade deeper and deeper into her ass. You try finding her good spots inside her tight asshole, but resolve to just get it over with and fuck her as quick as you can. Forget about how she isn’t as chatty as she typically is, forget how oppa is a nickname you’ve never heard from her before. Just forget, and make sure she remembers this, you, instead.

Steady her with a hand on her hip, grip the side of her uniform, line up your rock-hard cock with her waiting hole. Fighting back your lust for the gorgeous woman in bed with you, you give her a taste by inserting your head slowly into her. She sucks in air between her teeth and hisses her pleasure quietly. 

"Mmm…" she tries to contain a loud moan you're sure she wouldn't have been able to hold back if you fucked her as hard as you usually do. Go easy, she needs to relax today. 

You push your cock deeper and deeper into her despite her weak protests. She tries fighting, whispering "not too deep, please," and taking your hand from her hip to grip it hard between hers. You find it increasingly difficult to keep from plowing her as hard as you can, and the way her tight asshole stretches to take you isn't doing you any favors.

A sense of confusion creeps into your mind: you know she takes rougher than this from you all the time, but she seems to genuinely be hurting now. On the other hand, if she's hurting then she would just say your safe word and get herself some breathing room. You soldier on (you know how sick she is in the head), but take extra care not to hurt your friend too bad.

Soon after, your continued thrusts start earning her sweet moans instead. She acclimates to your cock rubbing against the insides of her ass and even starts meeting your thrusts into her. Feel her plump ass on your pelvis, admire how your friend’s skin is smooth against yours. Pull her close, never mind the wrinkles that form on the formerly clean-pressed white blazer she has on. 

There’s no reason to muffle her this time, she can be as loud as she likes. She can bite and kick and scream for all you care, all you need is her to feel as good as she always does on Friday nights. 

“I-I’m close…” Relish in how pliant, how willing, how submissive she is for you. How she takes you so obediently despite her pain like she knows you own her. Her eagerness and the way her insides squeeze your cock so lovingly drive you crazy. As much as you want this night to last forever, you know it’s about to end. 

Fuck her faster. Make sure she feels every vein on your cock, make her yours as her throat sores with her groans.

Pound her harder. She’s pulling at her bedsheets, voice quaking, straining to keep her sanity. Her asshole clenches around you, trying to keep you all for herself.

With a final deep thrust, your orgasm hits you like a bolt of lightning. Bury your thick cock as deep as humanly possible into the woman of your dreams. Your dick twitches and sends waves of pleasure up her spine as her voice strains for higher and higher notes to match her ecstasy. 

At the same time, she's forced over the edge of her sanity and falls into a purgatory of mind-numbing pleasure. She lets out stream after stream of her cum onto the sheets and mattress. Her bite marks imprint on the pillow case, as does whatever ruined makeup she was wearing. 

You both come down from your highs, and you spend a minute, at most two, cuddling her. Finally, expending your energy to peek at whether she's still alert and aware, you get up and lean on your elbow only to find her eyes lazily half-shut, her breathing deep and slow, and her tongue out and resting on the pillow too. 

Remind yourself: this is your friend. This isn't the woman of your dreams; it can't be. Why would you even think otherwise? What else could there be between the two of you? Nothing at all, just friends.

You make sure she's comfortable in bed, drape a blanket over her, and leave her bedroom. On your way out, you place the six-pack of beer into the fridge. 

The walk back home is quiet and somber, like a shower of rain hanging in the sky that’s too stubborn to fall. Must be the post-nut clarity, but you start to wonder: why was Sieun so submissive this time? Why was she letting you kiss her neck, fuck her ass? And what the hell was that uniform?

You vaguely notice your phone vibrate at the bottom of your backpack. You reach in and fish it out, absent-mindedly unlocking it and reading your notifications.

Twenty-seven missed calls.

~~~

| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 (coming soon) |

a/n: and there you have it! if im being totally honest this was really awkward to write but i hope the anal part earns me a little bit of exp for the next time i write it. btw the emotions i wanted to portray were awkward and weird and conflicted lol. as always feedback is always welcome and i look forward your asks and dms all the time :)))) 

[vapekingg]

I saw your requests are open??!! Does that mean I can ask for something very angsty? 🥺

Of courseeee

Pairing: Dom!Mechanic!EddiexFem!Reader Tags: angst, broken up, established relationship, fingering Dividers by: @inklore

Rabbit

Your parents thought they were doing you a favor when they bought you an almost-new Buick Century. It's a pile of shit, and it comes with baggage in the form of flesh and bone.

Your ex Eddie is the only mechanic in Hawkins that will touch the fucking thing, and it gets touched... a lot. More than you do since your most recent break up. And maybe your old hunk of junk knew that you'd been thinking about your ex lately, deep into the evening when your vibrator just isn’t cutting it. The power steering went out this morning and Eddie didn't hesitate to let you tow the thing to his garage after closing hours when you called to reluctantly break your no-contact streak.

Now, you're passing him tools.

Well, you're passing him beers.

He hasn't said much to you since you got here, or since the break up. But you haven't said much to him either. The sound of cicadas screaming outside of the open garage door fills any empty silence, along with the clanking of a wrench (maybe?) against metal. He makes little grunts every now and then, and you can imagine his face. The clench of his jaw, the squint of his focused eyes. You sit on the ground next to your car just like you always have while he works. He liked you to keep him company. If he still does, you can’t tell.

It’s late at night by the time Eddie finally rolls out from beneath that piece of shit. He has gloves on, a habit he’d formed because of you. You always liked visiting him at work, after all of his coworkers were gone for the day. The mechanic get up really does it for you, and Eddie never wanted to dirty you up. He wanted to fucking ruin you for anyone else — and he has — but never dirty your pretty exterior.

“How much do I owe you?” You ask him for the first time ever.

You expect him to laugh, or maybe to smile. Instead his eyebrows knit together with something between confusion and frustration. His face is hard — upset, even. He snaps off the elastic, grease covered gloves and leaves them discarded on the ground near your tire, starting then toward the mini-fridge in the corner for one last beer.

“Tell Jason he can come by and pay your tab,” Eddie responds as he leans over, fog from the fridge swarming his feet and creeping up his calves. Your eyes travel upward with the inching up the clouds to drink in his toned thighs, his narrow waist. It doesn’t take much for you to start daydreaming about the way his boxer-briefs are hugging his flesh beneath all of those clothes.

It hits you though, what he said, and your heart drops. Your eyes snap up to meet his and that look of upset on his face has morphed into something of betrayal. His lips are curled into a hard frown, arms crossing over his chest after that initial ice cold sip.

“Heard you guys were hangin’ out lately.”

“Oh, is that what you heard.” You mumble sarcastically underneath your breath.

But Eddie catches it, and he’s never been one to let your slick tongue go untested. Your attention is caught by the quick cock of his eyebrow.

“Watch it, princess.”

That’s what he’s telling you. But it’s been weeks, and the feeling of Eddie’s palm coming down unforgivingly on your ass is more enticing to you than not feeling him at all, so you bring yourself to your feet.

“If it’s that big of a deal to work on my car then I’ll just take it to someone else.” You smart back.

And that does make him smile. A shit-eating, cocky half grin that creeps crooked up his face and shows off his boyish dimples. You’re a fucking sucker, and Eddie knows it.

He pushes off of the work bench behind him and takes one stalking step toward you.

“Right,” Eddie’s dark eyes wander down your chin and trace your bare shoulders, voice quiet under the scream of insects outside. “Because that’s worked out so well every other time.”

Maybe you had worn his old cut up Corroded Coffin tank top on purpose, but at least he was taking interest. His gaze travels over your form, slowing across the hills of your breasts and the curve of your hips. You regret standing up now. Somehow you feel smaller with every slow, deliberate step that he takes forward.

“What are you really doing here? Jason not giving it to you good enough?”

Eddie’s staring at you like you’re meat, like you’re a feast for picking. The pink of his tongue darts out to wet his velvet lips as his eyes begin to travel back up. Circling your plump thighs, crawling up your soft stomach. He takes another few steps, and then he’s right there, just a foot or so away. Close enough that when he reaches forward, his fingers hook loosely into the belt loop of your shorts.

He tugs gently, thumb teasing the hem to dip just inside. His eyes are glassed over when they meet yours, he’s a little drunk, loose enough to play on the emotion that always draws you back together.

Eddie tilts his head to the side sympathetically and parts his lips, “He not fucking you hard enough, angel?”

Your skin burns. Right where his thumb strokes, a hole is being seared into your flesh. A wildfire spreading throughout your abdomen once he slips another digit beneath the hem of your shorts, joining the other to toy with the lace embroidery of your panties. A knowing smile plays at his lips when he realizes you’ve worn his favorite pair.

“You been thinkin’ ‘bout me?” Eddie’s palm slides against your abdomen as he slips his hand further into your shorts, fisting the thin fabric of your panties gently so that it tightens against your clit.

You bite back a moan, but Eddie knows you. Inside and out. He recognizes how your back straightens and your eyes go all hazy when he’s making you feel good. And making you feel good makes him feel good.

“Yeah, I bet you have. That rabbit just ain’t cuttin’ it, huh?”

It’s absolutely not cutting it.

You think about him, every night. With that silicone working between your thighs. You squeeze your eyes closed and remember the unforgiving snap of Eddie’s hips as he drives himself into you. How he’d sneak in through your bedroom window and hold his hand over your mouth so that your parents wouldn’t hear.

He takes another step toward you, his hand flattening against your mound as he traps you between his form and your car.

“Answer me, baby.”

But when you open your mouth to deny these allegations, his middle finger glides over your clit, stroking through your folds to make note of your obvious arousal.

“And don’t bother lying,” he continues.

Another digit joins his middle finger, calloused appendages moving in gentle motions around the most neglected parts of you. You can’t help but to reach for him. His collar. His wrist. Anywhere that will anchor the two of you together. Anything that will keep him from leaving you.

“I—” you begin, voice shaky but determined, “I’ve… missed you.”

Like the setting of the sun beneath the horizon, Eddie’s face shifts in nature. His mocha eyes blacken. Any restraint he was showing you prior sinks to the ground as he buries two fingers deep inside your sopping cunt and pins you against the side of your car with his hip.

“What’ve you missed?” He spits, free hand ripping up to capture your throat in a vice.

Eddie curls his fingers forward, and there’s that buzzing in your brain. That release of dopamine and endorphins that keeps you crawling back to him. No one else is quite this addictive.

"This," you mewl with no thought behind the words. Your body goes slack and you're held up by his hands alone. "This. I've missed this."

“Yeah you have,” he teases.

And just as quickly as it begins, Eddie yanks his hand out of your shorts. He leaves you empty, soaking, desperate for more.

But instead of being the hand that feeds you, Eddie takes a step back. He brings his fingers to his lips and his tongue darts out to lap at the coated digits.

An audible groan leaves his throat as he leans back against his workbench.

“Just like fuckin’ candy,” he says, then punches the red button that releases the lift rack that’s barely holding your car off the ground. It begins to lower behind you.

“I’d hate for you to keep Jason waiting,” Eddie continues with a cheeky grin.

He knows that Jason prefers his girls studious, timely.

But Eddie just prefers you. And until you’re his again… well, his preference is irrelevant.

[wroteclassicaly]

Since it's summer, I'm thinking either reader or Steve being sunburnt and just being a baby about it, mad because you/he thought they put on enough sunscreen, mad bc it's sore, and the non-sunburnt partner is just trying to get the aloe on <3

Warnings: Language and some fluff!

~*~

“Ouch! Baby, please watch it!”

Dating Steve Harrington has never been boring. The guy is a fucking monster warrior, survived multiple concussions, but he folds the second he gets a cold or has a sunburn. And apparently, what he used to help increase his summer tan — failed. You wince apologetically, forgoing rolling your eyes at his snappy attitude. Instead, you’re eyeing his bronzed skin, which is now layered with a deepening pink, accentuating his beauty marks, but it’ll be a few weeks before you can trace those with your tongue again.

He lets out a huff, wiggling around uncomfortably on the couch, presenting you with that beautiful ass. The urge to smack it goes unfulfilled.

You’d finally gotten him to come in from the sun to take a cool shower, whilst you placed a few cold beers into the freezer and sought out a bottle of aloe. When he’d returned, he was wearing nothing, hair dripping wet, chain having been discarded to alleviate the sting. He was tinted from his neck, down his chest, around his back, and his arms. You were wincing for him, immediately babying him. It’s not his fault that it was so easy to play into, or that he was hurt.

You tut at him to hold still a little more, adding on a touch more gel. And when you get your hands on him, he cries out, burying his face into a throw pillow. You’re practically cooing at him. “I know, I know. You got burned up out there pretty badly. Just let me take care of you, okay?”

He mumbles something that sounds like a mix between I love you and I can feel the burn in my ass. But as your hands lather the green gel down his tailbone, the coolness taking effect — he lets out a literal moan. You recognize that one. Egged on by his appreciative noises, you make sure your boy is good and covered, before standing to bend over and press a kiss to his temple. “I’ll be right back, babe. Get as comfortable as you can for me?”

Steve won’t argue. However, it is hard to sit up when his flesh positively aches upon brushing up against fabric. He doesn’t care that he’s unclothed, soothed by your work and the air conditioner. You work your way back into the living room after a quick hand wash, some Tylenol, a glass of water, and those ice cold beers in hand. Steve has never felt more safe, comforted.

With the Tylenol down, body starting to sag into the tiredness of the summer day, Steve doesn’t get to finish his beer, and instead, falls asleep with his head in your lap.

[johnbrand]

Pump and Jump

“Devin, what are you doing here?”

I had not expected anyone to be in my apartment when I got home from work, least of all my sister’s muscular douchebag of a boyfriend. In public, he was always popular to be around. Sociable and knowing exactly what to say and how to act, perfectly aligned with modern male beauty standards and a strong, commanding personality. Everyone treated him like a king, yet I was the one he proceeded to yank around like a subject. Because I was not at the same level of traditional masculinity, I had immediately been deemed as inferior.

“Your twat sister and I had a fight,” Devin replied, the slur came out naturally.

“How did you even get in?” I persisted. “I lock my doors.”

Unbothered, Devin continued scrolling on his phone. “I took your sister’s key.”

I was dumbfounded at Devin’s actions, but was too tired to fully deal with them. I tossed my backpack to the side and moved to the kitchen, my starchy suit itching against my skin with every step. But changing clothes were going to be dealt with after I fixed up something to eat.

“As long as you're in there, why don't you grab me a drink?” Devin’s voice was loud and clear. “A snack would be great too, I could polish off a bag of chips.”

I gulp, pausing for a moment. Instead of preparing anything for myself, I reenter the living room with an ice-cold beer and a few eating options. Devin does not react to my actions at all, simply opening the can and then munching on the first bag of snacks. I could already smell his natural musk, a mix of pungent body odor loosely covered by a cheap spray-on deodorant.

Assuming Devin was satisfied, I turned back to the kitchen to finally help myself.

“Where are you going, buddy?” Devin stopped me. “How about you give me a foot massage while I eat? These puppies are sore from having to haul everything over.”

Haul everything over? I thought. Kneeling in front of the table, I turned my head to sneak a peek of my bedroom. All across the small space were Devin’s belongings; boxes and bags and scattered objects filling my once pristine sanctuary. I was furious, but the potent funk coming from Devin’s feet beside my face nauseating me to the point that making an argument seemed futile. Tentatively, I placed my fingers against the wide, meaty soles. Devin grunted softly as I began to make slow circles.

It was hard to describe, but there was something so captivating about the texture of Devin’s feet. They were soft and stiff at the same time, their flesh both malleable and muscular. I could not help but feel my mind wander as I continued to work at his feet, puzzling over just how large they were. Size 13, Size 14…could they even be Size 15? Devin’s foot funk was so sharp, so pungent, so much that before I knew it the sun had already gone down. 

“Hey Devin, I think I’m gonna head to bed now,” I stated, removing my hands from his feet. Yet I could not deny the strange urge to place them back.

Devin, unphased, continued scrolling through the device in his hand. It took me a few moments to register that it was mine. I immediately commented on it. “You don’t remember?” Devin replied. “I asked for it when my phone died, and you handed it over with no argument. You even volunteered to remove the PIN so I would have access to it in the future.”

Was that true? I tried to open my phone to check, but for some reason my old password was not accepted.

“Oh yeah, I decided it would just be safer if I changed it all together,” Devin nonchalantly addressed. He stood up and stretched, his towering height and size engulfing my own and my possible protests. “Alright, I’m gonna head to bed, good night roomie.” In a mixture of shock and awe, my eyes followed as Devin proceeded to my his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

After just a few days, I quickly became accustomed to not only Devin, but in addition his needs. It was funny how the more time I spent with him, the more it felt right for him to treat me as his inferior. The apartment quickly became Devin’s, and my sole responsibility was to maintain it. Overtime, I was conditioned into faggotry, taught about the hierarchy and where I belonged in it. Which obviously–and what I would soon come to learn, rightfully–was below Devin.

In the end, Devin and my sister inevitably broke up. Eventually I learned it was because he had lied about wearing a condom. Through manipulation, and his massive cock, Devin had bred my sister thoroughly, apparent shooting straight into her womb. Being in a red state, abortion was not an option, but Devin had no plans on fathering his child. Since then, my sister had lamented about his abrupt “disappearance," having no idea he had been living with me since the initial fight. She would never know that she was just one of many women Devin had successfully “pumped and jumped” as he called it; my nephew would arrive with an abundance of half brothers and sisters.

[pubbybutch]

Thinking about Abby’s hands…

Minors DNI - AFAB! Reader - 700ish Words - Smut

Big warm, slightly weathered hands. You first noticed the discrepancy between your hand sizes on your first date, Abby was awkward going for a hug while you went for a handshake. Even through your T-shirt you could feel the heat coming off her palms. As the night continued, you watched her hands. You watched her long, thick fingers with their short rounded nails practically dwarfing the utensils in her hands as she ate. You noted how the veins on the back of her hand popped out a little as she gripped the stem of the wine glass, how her knuckles whitened as she wiped the little splodges of tomato sauce from her lips. As she walked you home after dinner, she kept your hand in hers from door to door.

When you invited her in, the blonde offered to take your jacket and as you shrug it off she grabs it, warm bony knuckles rubbing along the back side of your arms. As you sit on the couch, you watch as she fiddles with the buttons on her bulky navy overcoat. Her cold hands struggling, ice numbed fingers skidding off the metal.

Wide, slightly worn palms wrap around the beer bottle as she takes a sip from it, her lips puckering around the edge of the bottle. Abby’s right hand with her fingers spread fully across the fat of your thigh, her fingertips dimpling the flesh. The hand not on your thigh gently sets the empty bottle on the coffee table and once empty, it comes to rest in the gap between her legs with her wrist resting on her own thick muscled thigh.

Abby’s hands, the same ones that hugged you so awkwardly just hours before, now grip tightly to the pudge of your hips as she guides you to grind down into her own pelvis. Her breathing is heavy as you groan above her, her fingers untuck your t-shirt from your jeans and slide up your sides. The short nails on her fingers scrape slightly against your skin, raising it a little in designs as she absorbs as much heat from your skin as she can.

Heavy palms that grip the inside of your thighs as she pummels through the tiny apartment, kissing you against every surface that she can manage to find. Her knee grinding against your clit through your jeans and her cargo pants. The friction is just enough to keep you going but nowhere near enough to get off.

Long fingers that pull your shirt over your head, bra that’s unclasped hastily and with wanton need. Abby’s hands that cup each of your tits with such gentle care, even with how she twists and teases your nipples, the warmth spreading across your face and up your neck now match the heat passing from her scarred palms.

Abby’s hands that tease your slit through your underwear, making the wet patch spread. Her fingers that grip the band of your underwear, pulling the material down your legs. She leaves you exposed. Abby’s fingers make easy work of your sopping wet cunt. Her two middle fingers plunge in and out of you, her thumb rubbing up against your clit and whilst she occasionally swaps her hands for her tongue but she fucks you hard and well and long.

When she deems you orgasm-drunk enough, she stops. She whispers something you don’t quite catch. But then pulls her fingers out of you, her fingertips are pruning and dripping wet, your spends running down her hand. She offers her fingers to you, tempting you to take them into your mouth, you do. Her digits are sweet against your tongue and they reach back far with their length. As you suckle the wetness from her hands and fingers a tiredness comes over you.

As she notices you drifting off, she pulls her fingers from your mouth. Then wiping the remaining wetness from her fingers she slides up next to you in the bed, throwing the quilt over the two of you.

You wake the next morning to a warm hand gripping the curve of your stomach and the other cupping the underside of your chest. You decide at that moment that maybe - just maybe, this Abby could stay for another while. She decided the same thing the night before.

[thosefuzzywordfeelings]

i had another thought. because it feels like the sixth circle of hell in the uk right now, i’m sweating to death. mdni 😌

Steve Harrington’s parents are never home. he begins to act like the house is his as he gets into his early 20’s, not moving out because why bother if there’s a perfectly good empty house right here?

it’s a hot summer’s day, and he invited you over, his teal blue pool looking deliciously inviting as beads of sweat formed against your brow. sitting by the edge with your feet dipped in the water made for a refreshing difference compared to the Hawkins humidity.

Steve had an ice cooler in between you both, beers and fruity drinks bottled in ice. Clinking your bottles together and sipping, you leant back on your elbows as Steve watched you bask in the sun. Droplets of sweat rolled down the crevice of your chest, sliding down your sternum and pooling in the dip of your belly button. His eyes were burning rays hotter than the sun across your body, as your swimsuit was almost invisible to his imagination.

He slunk gently into the pool, as you squinted your eyes to watch him bob gently in the water over to between your legs.

“now, what’re you doing harrington?” you’d smile softly, as his now cold wet hands pried your thighs apart a little.

“nothin’. just in need of refreshments.” he would smirk, pressing kisses along your calf and to the side of your knee.

“baby, there’s like 45 drinks in this cooler, what do you want?” you’d ask with a giggle, sitting up again to look down at him looking up at you; his eyelashes wet and his brown eyes all pretty.

“none of them are hitting that spot, you know?” steve would say with a lower tone than usual, his fingertips dancing along your inner thighs. he would bring his hand up to your chest softly, pushing you back onto your elbows again before letting his mouth meet the dip of your hip and thigh.

oh. oh. you’d raise an eyebrow at the boldness of the man in front of you, pressing open mouth kisses along the hem of your swimsuit bottoms.

“need somethin’ a whole lot…sweeter.” Steve murmured, his fingers dancing with the strings at the sides.

“Will you let me, honey? Can’t let a poor man get dehydrated in this heat now? You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” He teased, slowly pulling the strings as he kept his eyes on your face. You’d nod obviously and he’d lap you up like a famished man in the desert.

Tongue rolling along you like it was searching and waiting for the last drop of nectar in the universe, arms wrapping around your thighs and hands gripping the flesh as if he’d die if you moved away from his skilled mouth.

I can’t cope. I need this. Now.

[angelickisscs]

i’ve never seen you before ~ ‧₊˚

୨ ୧ ˚₊ pairing ~ trent alexander arnold x reader

summary: your best friend getting distracted by her crush leads you to meeting the most beautiful man ever !

THE HIGH NOTES pierced throughout your body, the bass thumping directly under your feet as though it were your own beating heart. Strobe lighting flashed mercilessly in front of your eyes, rendering you as blind for seconds at a time. Your friend had originally promised you that it was only going to be a small house party. However, unless small was now a way to describe over a hundred people, she had certainly lied to you.

Her firm grip on your wrist was one that would be leaving marks in the morning. She dragged you throughout the house, weaving you throughout the masses of people with such ease that it was as though they were not even there to her.

You could not help but let your head turn as you walked, taking in whatever sights you could. People talked, laughed, and danced. And few even went the extra mile with people they had just met.

It was a footballer’s party; you did not know what else you would have expected, they were closing off a long season. But a large part of you had not thought it would have gotten this rowdy.

Sure, you had grown up with the mass of newspapers that described in explicit details the activities they had gotten up to during a night out. It had always drawn you in, a certain intrigue as to what the other half of society would get away with. And even now, it was a small guilty pleasure. Scrolling aimlessly through your feed and lingering those few seconds longer on a news report about whichever one had cheated on their innocent girlfriend this time before realising what you were doing and scrolling onwards.

There was still an uncertainty about how your friend, Grace, had gotten an invite to such a ‘prestigious’ event. She worked for one of the clubs as a public relations intern, though she had always complained about how little time she had to interact with the players. The rare times that she did swiftly cut short by an impending job she or them had to do.

Even then, she had still longed for an invite. Having heard stories from colleagues about the rare times that the guest list expanded to include their names. It did not happen often and when it did, people tended to not allow it to go to waste. At least that it what she told you in her long-winded explanation about why you just had to attend with her.

Frozen air surrounded your blare flesh, waking you up from the daze you had put yourself in. It stuck to you as though it were a plaster or a piece of lone tape, one that was far too painful to remove from your suffering skin. The short black dress that you had opted for that night did little to help, its soft material only shrinking from the pressure.

Your hands had it worse, the pain that riddled them from the mixture of the different ice-cold sensations having you a step closer to hypothermia. Grace had somehow shoved a beer into your hand, one that had clearly originated from a form of freezer. She soon began sipping on it, grimacing when the taste landed onto her tastebuds.

Looking down at your filled hand before looking back at her, you raised your eyebrows, “We drink beer now?”

“We drink beer now.” She repeated your question, instead turning it into a statement as she lifted the bottle up to her lips to take yet again. Between then and the first sip, it had failed to begin tasting any better to before, the face she made making that evident. “Sadly.”

With hesitance, you lifted the bottle up to your own mouth, slowly letting the cool liquid slip into your mouth. It took far more effort than it should not to spit it back out into the bottle, your throat refusing it entry until you forced it downwards.

Grace stifled back a laugh, grateful for getting a first class viewing to your reaction. The both of you had never been good with alcohol. Either you were blackout within two shots, or you could not even get through downing the first shot before you had to back out from the taste. Rarely were there any in-betweens, this night being a lone exception.

“Do you think this is going to get me a good in with the players?” She asked you with a hushed tone, unwilling to let anyone surrounding hear what she was embarrassed to ask.

You were unsure in what to respond with, your lack of time spent with any football players deeming you as a rookie in this department. Your mouth opened and closed in a constant stream of failed attempts to answer, your brain already in such overdrive from the lights and music that it had not prepared to answer such a deep question.

“Probably, yeah. I mean, they wouldn’t invite you otherwise.”

The answer you had opted for seemed to please your friend, her back straightening slightly whilst she looked around the premises. It was empty compared to inside of the house. A constant stream of conversation from the people that had opted to be out here rather than the loud alternative.

A man walked up behind Grace wrapping his arm around her as he looked downwards expectantly to what was her hair until she snapped her head in his direction.

“Dominik!” She exclaimed, a smile covering her face within seconds. It countered the previous frown that she had worn perfectly. It left you in a sense of shock and slight confusion, never had you seen her smile at you in such a manner.

“I was hoping that you would actually come.” He said to her, his smile matching hers. His arm lingered around her shoulder as she turned to look at you, opting to add you into the upcoming conversation, to your disappointment.

She waited a beat, allowing you time to introduce yourself without her intervention but after an awkward five seconds she did not have any choice but to change her own strategy, “This is my friend y/n, the one with the cute dog.”

The man you now knew as Dominik turned to look at you in slight confusion before his eyes opened widely, his mouth dropping as a lengthened ‘oh’ slipped through it.

“Nice to meet you.”

His voice was louder than it was previously, having to talk over the music that took its chance to escape from the hell it had created when a door had opened. A spill of rowdy voices flowed through it, calling Dominik over to which he had refused quickly.

You nodded towards him, smiling politely at what you had thought he had said. Your weight was shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably, it becoming increasingly obvious how much you were not supposed to have come with your friend.

“And of course I would come, you made it sound like a good experience.” Grace’s attention was back to him, her eyes making deep eye contact with his as her hand snuck upwards to meet his gladly accepting one.

Silently, you took steps backwards to give them a slight amount of privacy during the moment that they were currently having. Your attention stayed on them, eyebrows furrowing harshly at the realisation of the failing of your friend. Not once had she told you about this man, keeping it to herself in such a way that it was insulting towards you for not having caught on sooner.

Taking the chance to look at her actions in the past and present, it was simple to see. The mere fact that you had not realised the second she had invited you to a party of all things being disappointing.

It was no time before you mind came running back to you. A heat lingered behind your back, protecting you from the cutting bite of the cold that still managed to hang peacefully in the air. You turned your head to see who had disturbed your trip down memory lane, a slight annoyance injecting itself into your veins.

The person stood behind you matched your furrowed eyebrows expression, not having enough intensity but everything else was creepily perfect. Before you could question his reasonings, he cut you off from something once again.

“I’ve never seen you before.” His bluntness was shocking, forcing you two steps forward. Your body was now facing his, your arms crossing over your chest in an almost defensive manner.

“Sorry?” Your spine straightened. “This is a party.”

His eyes widened when your words finally processed in his mind, his hand coming upwards to scratch the back of his neck. “My bad. Don’t know why I thought that would have worked as a conversation starter.

Laughing slightly, the tension that had taken over your already stiff shoulders beginning to back down.

“I’m Trent.”

He held his hand out to shake slightly retracting it before firmly keeping it in place so you could shake it.

“Y/n.”

You shook his hand briefly, unsure of what you should do after that.

“I’m Grace’s friend so that’s why you haven’t seen me before.”

She was still in deep conversation with Dominik, having not even moved position or as it looked, blinked once since you had moved your presence elsewhere.

“Oh, the one with the cute dog!” Trent said, his high-pitched voice catching your attention.

As it currently seemed, Grace had showed your newly adopted dog around her workplace. The fact did not manage to complete its mission in surprising you, her obsession with it since their first meeting being greater than you could have ever expected.

Trent had managed to notice the way your eyes obviously flicked back to your friend every few milliseconds, a small smirk perching itself above one side of his lips.

“Once they start talking, that is it. No point in even trying to get a word in because they do not hear a thing.” He shared with you as he also looked over towards their hand in hand figures before looking back towards you with slightly hooded eyes.

With a smile, you looked back over towards him, your eyes unexpectantly meeting with his, “I gathered that within a few seconds. I mean, I have never seen her like that with anyone.”

You admitted to him in a smaller voice than usual, hoping that your friend that, who was metres away from you, would not hear.

“They are awful, honestly.” He jokingly condemned the pair. “He’s been late to training a couple times because he was talking to her.”

The smile that covered his face was the most beautiful you had ever seen. It shone with the light that originating by the moon, drawing you in with its hypnotic methods. So much so that his words merged into one for you, not a single syllable made clear by your in-awe mind.

A simple wow was all that you could muster aloud. There was no way to confirm if that had been the correct response to the jumble that you had heard, though by the way you only got put into more of a daze by his charming face, it was no use even trying to figure something like that out.

“Y/n?” Trent called out, his eyebrows returning to their furrowed state as he stared you down slightly. “You alright?”

Your heart began putting in extra work at the realisation you had not gotten away with your staring, this time it being your turn to widen your eyes. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You seemed to have caught yourself a staring problem.” The smile that had originally put you in such a state, mockingly made a return. It almost caught you out once again, your stomach filling with panicking butterflies as your legs jellied.

“Me? No, you definitely had something in your hair.”

You were quick in your response, your hand flicking upwards slightly as your words directed themselves to the same place, both falling flat after receiving their time in the spotlight.

“What was it? A pretty face maybe?” He tried; one side of his smile once again weighing itself down so it could turn itself into yet another smirk. His legs extended into a step in your direction, closing the vast gap in between the two of you.

The thoughts in your head spiralled energetically, bringing your eyes down to the brick floor to find something to say back to him. A small black dot ran dangerously close to your feet, taking the chance to escape from your embarrassing moment. “It was actually a little spider.”

Trent chuckled softly as he shook his head at your attempted lying. A pink flush painted itself upon your cheeks, deciding to differ from the cosmetic blush you had originally put on.

“You could see it from that far away?”

He took another step.

“I have great eyesight.” Your eyes lifted from the dull, muddy ground so they could go back to his. The smile you had was wide with embarrassment at the fact you had not managed to lie your way out of this situation, and he did not seem like the type of man to let you live it down anytime soon.

“I wouldn’t-.” He was unable to continue with his sentence, his words swiftly being cut off by the calling of his name. He soon flicked their head in their direction, nodding slightly to keep them quiet for long enough to say goodbye. “I best get going. It was good to meet you.”

His steps were now backwards, remaking the previous gap between the two of you with over triple the size.

“Yeah, you too.” Your words were to no usage, only going to waste as they were unable to catch up to him. A hand on your shoulder gave you no time to look into it. This time, you turned around to see your best friend, her smile still as wide as ever.

“Trent?”

A shocked look being written all over her face gracefully joined her question, no matter how hard she had tried to cover it.

“Dominik?”

The reaction you she had given in response was all you needed to know. Within seconds, her hand wrapped itself around your wrist in the same manner as before, this time leading you straight for outside.

“Your ears are so red!” Grace laughed as she walked backwards to ensure she could see you properly.

“You have no right to talk. You were laughing so hard.” You scoffed with your words, slowing you pace down to a more natural speed. “And no man is that funny.”

With no warning, she suddenly came to a halt and with your poor reaction time, you had no choice but to bump into her.

“He is that funny.” She pointed an accusing finer at your face, tapping your nose in the process from how close the pair of you were.

“And you got caught staring at him.”

Grace was now screaming with laughter at your expense, her body doubling over. You stared at her as your eyes dropped.

“You saw that?” You called after her now retreating figure. “Grace, you saw that?”

[octuscle]

Hello support, I hope this is the right place to ask. I‘m not the best with this online thing because of my old age but I think I deserve another chance. I recently got this hot, young, muscular, blonde neighbor who is also a cop. I thought he would be really nice but he turned out to be an asshole towards me. Is there a chance to become physically like him to teach him a lesson and get my second chance at life? Maybe even his life?

Yes, from what I can see, your neighbor is an asshole. But despite everything, an asshole, which serves our country. And that's really good as a jerk-off idol. I have respect for that. I ask for your understanding. But that doesn't mean I can't help you, old man!

Wednesday evening. You are sitting in the rocking chair on the porch when your neighbor comes home. You wave to him. He ignores you. Asshole. Meals on Wheels comes and brings you your dinner. With difficulty you get up and go to the dining table. Carrot porridge. Not exactly delicious. But you can eat it well without teeth.

Thursday morning: If you get up and nothing hurts, you are dead… Was one of your mottos. Are you dead? Or did you just sleep well? In any case, you feel fit. You go to the bathroom without problems, brush your teeth and look through your bathroom window into the brightly lit bathroom of your neighbor. He has just come out of the shower. Fuck, he is really a jerk-off idol made flesh. And for the first time in a very long time you jerk off. And actually shoot a respectable load into the sink.

Shouldn't your nurse have come at 08:00? Ehhhhh? Nurse? What for? You're in your early 70s. You've been going to the gym every day for years. Swimming and gym. You are able to take care of yourself and your household. Today you should take care of the hedges. And the roof of the shed should be repaired.

When your neighbor comes home at 6:00 p.m., you have just fired up the BBQ. You take two bottles of beer from the tub filled with ice and ask him if he would like a steak and a cold beer. "Sure thing, old man," he says. "Just let me get out of this uniform." Too bad, you think. For your sake, he should have kept it on. It's a beautiful evening. You talk about hunting, football and politics. Sure, you could be his father. But everyone needs a fatherly friend. Whereas you would like to be his DILF.

Friday morning. Your buddy from next door is already in the bathroom, you start your morning run. You're just coming back when he gets into his car. You just have time to exchange a fistbump and arrange to meet at the gym for 4:00 pm after work.

Okay, at 39 years old, you're more than ten years older than your workout partner. But you both grew up in the gym. You complement each other perfectly. But fuck, you can think of nothing else but to fuck the cop properly. In the shower it turns out that he also thinks of nothing else. He drops the soap very slowly and picks it up awkwardly. You will not miss the chance.

Saturday morning. Your friend is still asleep, breathing deeply and evenly. He smells of your sweat and cum. If you didn't wake him up with this, you would be licking him clean right now. On the cock first. Instead, you quietly get up to get ready in the bathroom and prepare breakfast. Your boyfriend has had a busy week. You still have vacation. College doesn't start for another four weeks, by which time you still have to clean out your parents' house and sell it. You are so glad that you have your boyfriend, he is a great help to you after the death of your parents….

You have just brushed your teeth when the door to the bathroom opens. Thank God, his morning wood is still stable. "Can I help you, officer?" you ask. "On your knees, thug." Orders are orders.

Found the pic of your significantly younger self @corpsacademy

[javier-pena]

interlude: compersion

Pairing: Katie x f!reader (Katie x Javier Peña)

Word Count: 3.6k

Rating: Explicit (🤭🤭🤭)

Summary: Katie comes home from work with a story to tell.

Warnings: established polyamorous relationship (and navigating what this means) | fingering | dirty talk | a bit of hair pulling | mentions of alcohol | semi-public sex (mentioned) | unprotected p in v sex (mentioned)

Notes: So the thing is I actually wrote this in August 2023, and I wanted to not post it right away for reasons that are too complicated to discuss in this short note. This is set after Triumvirate, Part 4 which I obviously haven't written yet, but I woke up this morning with this strong urge to post this short drabble, so here it is. As always, I want to thank Dani @alexturner for encouraging me to work on this story, and for still indulging something that started as a hungover idea literally years ago. I had a lot of fun reading through all your excited comments this morning that you left almost a year ago!!

masterlist | join the taglist

***

“It was fine.” That’s the answer Katie gives you to the question whether she had a nice day at work. “No, not really,” she answers whether anything exciting happened. “He’s going to be late … paperwork.” It’s curious how her voice breaks when she says that.

You’re in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for a light salad. Katie is there too, still in her office attire, nursing an ice-cold beer bottle, nervously picking at the label. Your gaze definitely isn’t fixed to her throat every time she takes a sip, and it most definitely doesn’t get stuck on the exposed flesh that appears between the silk fabric of her blouse when she stretches her back.

Katie is agitated tonight, as if there is something on her mind she wants to tell you but can’t find the words for. You’ve been there before – the first time she killed a man, coming home terrified of you looking at her differently now. The one time her estranged best friend from college died and she couldn’t handle the grief on her own. And the one time Javi shouted at her in front of the entire team and her heart cracked a tiny bit (this one was easily fixed – Javi made it up to her and it hasn’t happened since). It just takes her a while to say the words, but you know she’ll eventually find them, and you’ll be there for her once she does.

“I picked up this at the market today,” you change the subject, holding up a borojó. “I thought we could try it after dinner.”

Katie looks at the green fruit warily, and her calculating gaze makes you laugh. “What?” Katie challenges.

“Nothing … your … you look at everything like it’s a problem to be solved. It’s endearing.”

Katie’s cheeks darken with a flush. “I was just wondering how we should go about cutting it open.”

“One step at a time,” you say, putting down the knife you’re holding and wiping down your hands. “Did something happen at work today? Something you need to talk about?”

Katie grimaces. “I can never hide anything from you, can I? I mean, Javi is … that’s one thing, that’s his job. But you …”

“Call it female intuition.”

Katie rolls her eyes, but settles them on you with a loving gaze. “Later,” she says.

You nod. “So something did happen then?”

“Oh my God.” Katie laughs one of her mesmerizing laughs that doesn’t leave anyone cold. “You bitch.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Thanks. That’s something I learned from Javi.”

Katie smiles at you, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me now?” you try again.

Katie stands up from the small kitchen table with a sigh, leaves the bottle of beer behind. “It’s nothing bad,” she says, leaning against the kitchen counter next to you. “I’m honestly not even sure why I feel so nervous talking about it.”

You watch her, waiting for her to continue.

“Javi and I … we …” Katie takes a deep breath, lowers her gaze to the kitchen floor.

This beginning could be followed by a million different outcomes, infinite possibilities. Your heart beats faster now, some of Katie’s nervousness rubbing off on you. You feel her naked arm next to yours, her bare skin hot to the touch. She rubs her neck, brushing against your arm in the process.

“Today,” Katie starts again, “Javi called me into his office.” She lowers her hand, grips the kitchen counter behind her like she needs all the support she can get. “We did it.” She stumbles over the words, and then her gaze is on you, searching your face for any kind of reaction.

You’re not quite sure how you’re supposed to react. “You did what?” you ask.

“Oh,” Katie whispers, pulls a grimace, buries her face in her hands. When she looks back up, she’s bright red. “We had sex.”

Several things happen at once. You laugh out loud with relief because you had expected the worst, even if you didn’t show it. You laugh because Katie, your Katie, the most confident, the most outspoken, the sexiest woman you know, struggled to admit she fucked her boyfriend. And you feel a tingling sensation at the base of your spine, one that wasn’t there a second ago.

“Okay,” you say, licking your lips. “Okay,” you repeat.

“I know we agreed to be open about it all.” Katie is stumbling over the words again. “I don’t want you to think I was trying to keep it a secret.”

“I wasn’t thinking you were,” you assure her, trying to ignore the tingling that’s growing stronger. “It’s not like I don’t have sex with Javi when you’re not around … it’s not like we don’t have sex when he isn’t.”

“I know,” Katie sighs. “But it’s …”

You know what she can’t bring herself to say. It’s the first time Javi and Katie had sex and you weren’t there, something that was bound to happen sooner rather than later. And yes, you were scared of it, at least to an extent, scared of them discovering they don’t need you around at all, scared to become the third member of a pair. By the looks of it, Katie was also nervous about this moment, about your reaction to it.

Your reaction is not what you had expected it to be.

“What was it like?” you ask, leaning in so closely you can feel her nervously exhaling.

“What?” she asks, her breathless voice not so different from what she might have sounded like in Javi’s office today.

“Go on,” you say, kissing her neck right where you can see her pulse quiver, “tell me.”

You feel her swallow hard beneath a second kiss. “I …”

It’s such a rare thing for Katie to be at a loss for words. It’s such a rare thing for you to have the upper hand. You grab her jaw, move her head, so more of her neck is exposed, and relish her sharp intake of breath. She shifts against the kitchen counter, her hands searching for purchase, as you kiss her skin softly, slowly, trying to show her that there is no reason at all to be nervous about your reaction, no reason to be ashamed about letting your boyfriend fuck her.

“There isn’t much to tell,” she finally says, a rasp in her voice. “It’s not like we planned for it to happen … it just did.”

You nip at a tendon in her neck. “How did it happen, Katie?”

You using her name like that makes her tremble. “He wanted to see me about some reports that had been misfiled.” She groans as soon as the words are out of her mouth. And you know what she’s thinking – there are sexier ways to tell this story. You let go of her jaw, place your hand on her naked thigh just below the hem of her skirt, and stroke her lightly.

“Was he very angry at you for misfiling those reports?” you tease, unable to stop yourself from smiling against her neck.

An airy laugh escapes her throat and you feel her relax against the kitchen counter. “I would never misfile anything. It was someone else.”

“And did you tell him that?” you ask automatically, feeling lightheaded from breathing in Katie’s perfume, lightheaded from the happiness you’re feeling right this very moment.

“I did, and he …,” She giggles when your fingers on her thigh brush against a ticklish spot. “… He looked at me with that funny look he always gets when someone tells him he’s wrong.”

You know that look all too well, the furrowed brow, the slightly parted lips, as his brain is trying to process what he has just heard. Katie has her eyes closed now, as if she’s right back there with Javi in his office. She shakes back her hair, her dark curls tumbling down her back, and you kiss your way along her jaw, toward her lips.

“He …,” she clears her throat, “he walked around his desk, past me, and shut the door. I vividly remember the sound of the lock snapping shut because it was so quiet after that. And it was clear I wasn’t leaving until we had resolved the issue.”

“Do you think,” you start between kissing her chin and the corners of her mouth, “that the whole thing was just an excuse to get you to come to his office?”

Katie laughs again and your heart summersaults. It’s your favorite sound in the world. “No, he had the reports right there on his desk.”

You huff in disappointment.

“But I’m sure he knew I hadn’t been the one to misfile them,” she adds.

You want to kiss her so badly but you know it would break the tension between you. And you would be giving her what she wants without her having given you anything so far. With a heavy heart you draw back, even remove your hand from her thigh, and lean against the counter. She opens her eyes, the lids fluttering with confusion.

“What happened then, Katie?”

You watch as a flush creeps up her neck and into her cheeks. “He came closer to me again, still asking about those reports.”

“And you …?”

“I was also focused on the reports.” The sly grin on her lips tells a different tale.

“I’m starting to think nothing happened after all,” you say, mirroring Javi in her story, stepping in front of her so she’s trapped between your body and the kitchen counter.

Katie’s sly grin grows wider. “Oh, you’re mistaken.”

“Then why not just tell me?” you ask. You pop open the highest button on her blouse, revealing some of that flushed skin.

Katie lowers her eyes to your hand hovering above the next button. Doubt flickers across her face before she answers, “It really wasn’t all that interesting.”

The next button comes undone, and now you can see the top of one of her black, lacy bras. You wonder if you’re the second person to see it today. “I still don’t quite understand how you got from talking about those reports to …” You’re absent-mindedly tracing the outline of one of Katie’s breasts over her blouse, and before you can finish the sentence, she suddenly flinches.

“Please.” Her whimper sets the base of your spine on fire.

You cup her breast, not surprised to find her nipple rock-hard beneath your fingers. “Quid pro quo, Katie,” you whisper into her ear.

“Okay.” Katie exhales shakily, but you still notice how she straightens her back just a tiny bit so your fingers come a tiny bit closer to squeezing her nipple. “He kept going on about those stupid reports and I began to feel frustrated because he didn’t believe me. So finally, I snapped, ‘This isn’t about those reports at all, is it?’ And he just stood there, right in front of me, and I could watch the penny drop.”

You reward Katie by squeezing her breast, rolling her clothed nipple between your thumb and forefinger. She rewards you with a strangled moan.

“I don’t know if it was all a set-up or if he really had no idea what he was doing,” Katie goes on, “but the next thing I knew he had his hand wrapped around my wrist, and my wrist pinned to his desk behind me, and he said, ‘You should be more careful how you talk to me’.”

You kiss her neck, just below her ear. “Did that turn you on?”

“Yes,” she admits breathlessly, and you have to fight hard to keep down a whimper. “But we were in his office and I … I didn’t think … we had never …”

No, of course they hadn’t. They didn’t want to start any rumors about Javi cheating on you with the new, pretty girl at the office. But you also didn’t want them to hold back on your account. You let go of Katie’s breast just to place your hand back on her thigh, your fingers brushing her skin under her skirt, higher than they had been before.

“What did you tell him?” you ask, feeling as if you’re right there with them in Javi’s office. If you focus, you can even smell the cigarette smoke on her.

“He … I …,” Katie stammers, then bites her lip as your fingers brush the inside of her thigh. “I told him I’m going to talk to him whichever damn way I please if he keeps accusing me of lying. And then …” She’s bright red now, a sheen of sweat is covering her brow. “And then he …” She swallows. “He pushed his hand beneath my skirt and right between my legs and when he pulled it back out, his fingers were … they were coated …”

Your fingers are right there too, brushing up against her underwear, then pushing the fabric aside to find her soaked. She moans loudly at your touch, right into your ear, and when you pull away her eyes widen in protest until she sees it's to show her how wet she is for you.

“Did you make the same pretty sounds for him?” you ask.

She shakes her head. “I couldn’t. He … he was kissing me.”

“Was he now?” You kiss the corner of her mouth, and her hand flies up to wrap itself around your arm. You kiss the other corner and she squeezes.

“God,” she groans. “What more do you want from me?”

“The whole story.” You kiss the tip of her nose. “Every.” You kiss her temple. “Little.” You kiss her cheek. “De -” Before you can finish, she has the collar of your shirt bunched up in her first, and her lips are on yours, hungrily taking and taking and taking. You push up against her until your bodies are molded together by forces much stronger than you. You feel her shake against you, you feel mounting pressure between your legs, you feel her tongue brush up against yours like she hasn’t kissed you in years. All you can think about is grabbing her hand and shoving it down your pants but … not yet.

You push yourself off her and she immediately follows, so you grab her hair at the back of her neck and pull her back. “Come on, tell me the rest.”

Fire flickers in her eyes for a brief moment as she considers protest, rebellion even, but then she realizes there’s no use. You have the upper hand. “There isn’t much … I don’t know …,” she says between deep breaths. “It all happened so fast.”

Your lips are back on her neck as you kiss a trail toward her chest, toward the skin you exposed there earlier. When you cup and squeeze one of her breasts lightly, she arches her back.

“The reports, they … he just pushed everything off his desk,” Katie continues. “I think I … I flinched because it sounded so loud, I was sure someone would come … or maybe I should’ve thought that, I don’t know. I don’t remember, I just remember him lifting me onto the table.”

You reward Katie by reaching under her skirt and pressing two fingers against her clothed clit. She presses herself into the touch, rolls her hips, her eyes firmly closed now.

“He just … his pants were undone, he pushed them halfway down his thighs, I was shoving my skirt higher up. He … he didn’t even take off … he just pushed my underwear aside and then he was inside of me.”

Now you do whimper at that image, as you think of Javi’s naked butt, his tie that is coming undone, of Katie’s feet wrapped around his waist, only one still stuck in a shoe, of them both eagerly pushing and pulling at each other.

Katie opens her eyes and looks at you, waiting for your next question. It doesn’t come to you; you have no idea what else you could ask, your brain preoccupied with what she has told you already, your body preoccupied with screaming for release. Her hand finds its way past the waistband of your trousers, between your legs, and now it’s your turn to lean into her touch. She doesn’t tease, pushes past the waistband of your underwear too, and makes you tremble with her fingers on your clit. You’re soaked, you know you are, and it doesn’t seem to surprise her. She just rolls your clit beneath her fingers, mimics your movements between her own legs. When you slow down, she slows down, when you push the tip of your finger inside of her, she does the same. It’s utter bliss and torturous hell at the same time, and if you’re not careful, you won’t get to hear how the story ends.

You grab her wrist, pull her hand out of your pants. “Later,” you say, kissing the tip of each of her fingers, tasting yourself on her skin.

“He put his palm over my mouth,” Katie continues, “because I couldn’t keep quiet.” Her eyes are bright and shiny with arousal and they don’t leave yours for a second. “I had my hands on his shoulders, I was … he kept pushing me up the table with each thrust. I could hear the drawers rattle. It was … I think we were too loud.”

“But that’s how you like it, isn’t it?” you tease, pushing two fingers into her at the same time.

“Yes,” she moans so loudly you can probably hear it floating out of the open kitchen window and down onto the busy street below. “But he was so quiet. Just a few grunts. I wanted to hear him, I … But before I could do anything, I was …”

Now she averts her gaze, and you see the tips of her ears turn pink.

“He just … God,” she groans, and you’re not sure if it’s because you hit that spot inside of her or because of the memories. “He let go of my mouth and kissed me and called me his good girl.”

“You are a good girl, Katie,” you tell her and kiss her sweaty brow. “You’re always so good for us.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she curses, gripping your shoulders. She’s about to come, you can feel it, you can hear it in the way she pants, so you slow down. She whines, a sound that happens completely involuntarily, but she doesn’t complain.

“What about Javi?” you ask, your voice quiet now. You can feel your mouth go dry, and you’re not quite sure why.

“He pulled out and lifted me off the table. I thought we were done.” Somewhere between those pants there’s an airy giggle. “We weren’t.”

“Of course you weren’t,” you say, and kiss her brow again.

“He turned me around, pinned one of my wrists to my back. I could feel him shove my skirt back up my hips, and then he …” Her breath hitches.

“You’re saying the words this time, Katie.” You brush your palm softly against her clit.

With a steady voice, she says, “He pushed into me, then pushed my chest down onto the desk.”

You feel her flutter around your fingers at that memory, and your body responds with an aching emptiness of its own. “Did he come inside of you?” you ask.

She nods.

“Say it,” you demand.

“He fucked me in that position but it didn’t take long. He … It was just a few thrusts and then he was coming.”

“What did it feel like?”

Her eyes widen as she stares at you, shock and arousal lighting up her eyes.

“What did it feel like,” you repeat, “knowing anyone could have walked in on you at any time?”

“Please,” Katie whimpers, pushing down onto your fingers with trembling hips.

“Tell me, and I’ll let you come.”

She’s so fucking close, you can feel her tighten around your fingers. But she nods and licks her lips. “Liberating,” she says, and you know exactly what she means. “I came again when I felt him come inside of me, when he finally let go and swore and gripped me tighter. I could hear voices outside on the corridor, and he could hear them too, and he thrust up into me a few more times to get me to make some sounds. He …”

You’re so close to Katie now you’re practically straddling her leg. She holds you close with a hand on your hip.

“Please let me come.”

When you had woken up this morning, there had been a nagging unease in one of the chambers of your heart, one you couldn’t quite explain. Now, in the evening, you’re not only able to name it, you see it was entirely unfounded.

When Katie comes, she holds your gaze, encourages you to rub yourself against her thigh. She makes the prettiest sounds, whispers your name. Kisses you.

Nothing has changed.

You’re still trembling against her when her breathing is calm again, you’re still swallowing hard when she is fixing her skirt and buttoning up her blouse. Then she moves you so your back is against the kitchen counter, and kisses you slowly, putting everything she can’t say into the way her lips move across yours.

“You’re both always so quiet when you watch me come,” she whispers into your ear, and now it’s your turn to feel your cheeks heat up. “Let’s see if I can make you let yourself go.” She bites your bottom lip, then sinks down onto her knees in front of you, pulling your pants and underwear with her.

And just when she places your leg around her shoulders and licks through your wetness, you hear the key turn in the lock.

***

triumvirate taglist: @1andthesame | @acdeaky | @bangaveragewhitewine | @batdarkladyvampir | @beskarprincessjenny

@chippedowlmug | @darksber | @darnitdraco | @deliriouslybewitching | @desir-ae

@dobbyjen | @fireproofmarta | @for-my-satisfaction | @girlbossnancy | @jennaispunk

@jettia | @justanotherblonde23 | @kirsteng42 | @knivesareout | @lavenderluna10

@lawfulgranola | @letaliabane | @lexloon | @lovesbiggerthanpride | @nembees

@omgreally | @paintlavillered | @pedropascalsx | @pedrostories | @pennyserenade

@phoenixhalliwell | @pilothusband | @rebel-fanfare | @reluctantlyresponsibleadult | @skyshipper

@spacenerdpascal | @tacticalsparkles | @tae27 | @the-blind-assassin-12 | @theorganasolo

@thesmutslut | @trickstersp8

javier peña taglist: @almodovarispunk | @burdenedwithchaos | @cjillian97 | @daimyosprincess | @giggly-otter

@hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmsstuff | @mandalaur | @pookipedia | @sin-djarin | @welcometoshiphell

perma taglist: @alexturner | @amneris21 | @din-jarhead | @harriedandharassed | @martellthemandalor

@nobodys-baby-now | @od-ends | @pedrorascal | @radiowallet-writes | @xoxabs88xox

[liesmyth]

Alright, I've got another fic question for you! What are your favorite tlt gen fics?

you say “what ARE” I took this as permission to rec Many

A Mild Sort of Resurrection by sigaloenta [Bari Star AU]

In all the extensive special briefings and all-hands bulletins and strict sets of orders preparatory to the Emperor Divine's inspection tour of the Avernus, no one had considered that God might desire to fetch Himself a coffee.

An Impromptu Christening by orphan_account

The Ninth house finds a body and a baby. Nobody who matters is really thrilled about this turn of events.

believing in everything (and knowing nothing at all) by LesbianJesusLovesYou

A series of childhood memories from the Ninth.

“Fuck it, I'm adopting her," said John Gaius, not knowing the paperwork wasn't necessary by @naamah-beherit

Gideon, a highly distinguished Cohort lieutenant, saves the day—and the girl—and then gets stuck in the lift of The Erebos with a man feeding her peanuts as if they have all the time in the world. They don't, but if he doesn't mind, then why should she?

High But Very Drear by @honorarycassowary. (written pre-NtN)

Aiglamene and Crux receive the five hundred ancient dead gifted by the Emperor for the renewal of the Ninth, and also do something that could be construed as mourning.

John 25:12 by @halfeatenmoon

John and his friends escape the cow fortress to spend Christmas Day at the beach. With beer, salads, pavlova, and the corpses of a million fish killed by nuclear weapons testing.

Mortification of the Flesh by @theriverbeyond

In the myriadic year of our Lord—the ten thousandth year of the King Undying, the Lord of the Sharpest Edge!—Harrow Nova challenged the cavalier of the Ninth for his title.

Purgatory Is Mandatory by @urban-sith (written pre-NtN)

Ianthe figures out the true secrets of Lyctorhood while stuck in a time loop at Canaan House.

recognize them by their fruits by @ceruleanvulpine (written pre-NtN)

John and Ianthe deal with the fact that his only remaining Lyctor is the one he never liked much. Maybe they can bond over the fact that they're both egotistical manipulators who lie like breathing? No?

so I open the window to hear sounds of people by @sunderedstar [but really that whole series!]

John misses the beach. The real beach. The current one is mostly soil with a lacy veneer of nuclear ash, clammy and streaky and hilariously radioactive, which is a real bummer when he thinks about it too hard. But the twenty-five meter sea level rise that came when all the freshwater ice finished melting around the mid-century mark ate away at the shoreline, rolled in between the skyscrapers on a new tide, swallowed up all the people who couldn't afford to move anywhere else. Have you seen the rent rates lately?

some part of me must have died by @theriverbeyond

What if Wake survived long enough to bring her newborn baby to Tomb, and killed her. and then the baby didn't die.

the kingdom of heaven by bittybelle

John puts that first-draft dream of his to bed.

Two Things by Isis

There were two things Jeannemary Chatur wanted: to fight for the Emperor Undying by the side of her necromancer, and for the stupid pimple on her chin to go away already.

when I call, will you come to me? by LesbianJesusLovesYou

“My Lady,” Ortus wheezed, shifting uncomfortably. “I only thought you should know… Gideon Nav was flogged before the congregation.”

[mynameis-noe-body]

Catch me if you can, Chief!

Chief Jim Hopper × you (F)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: It's the 4th of July in Hawkins, and while everybody's having fun at the amusement park, the only one who's catching your attention is Jim Hopper, Chief of Police — and he's looking at you, equally interested.

OR — you and Hopper have fun in the parking lot, in his car.

The mayor of Hawkins wasn't a particularly politically gifted man, easily bribed and evidently fishy in his manners, devoid of any charm. However, he had always thrown the best Fourth of July parties. This year, as always, Hawkins park has been transformed into a huge, glittering Luna Park. It's just sunset, and everything is illuminated with colored neon, written in large letters attracting people like moths to a flame. Children run amused among the rides, greedy for cotton candy and soft candies, lollipops and sugar-coated pancakes. Families jump from one attraction to another holding hands with the little ones, whose eyes sparkle like so many little stars, inebriated by the festivities. Music plays everywhere, incessant and covered only by the sound of laughter. It's a warm summer evening. The clear sky, of a warm blue that gets darker as the minutes go by, is the backdrop for a blanket of stars that finally seem to show themselves. And everyone is waiting for the fireworks.

Yet, none of this catches your eye. The usual amusements, the usual rides, the usual sweets. You even wore the same shorts as last year, the jeans just a little tighter around your hips, a little shorter along the soft curve of your buttocks. You are slightly sweaty, a wet line permeates your white shirt leaving a transparent veil between your breasts. A breath of fresh wind ruffles your hair, giving you relief. And your eyes, dreamy and greedy, rest on only one person. Jim Hopper, Chief of Police. He's not on duty tonight. Jane Hopper, his young adopted daughter, has already ridden off on the ferris wheel with her boyfriend, and he seems almost annoyed; he's been chatting with your father for a few minutes now, with an ice-cold beer in his hands. He looks bored, hot. That Hawaiian shirt would look ridiculous on anyone else, but he fills it completely. His thick arms, full and shot through with soft muscles, are absolutely delightful. You can't take your eyes off the way his chest looks so large and huge and tight under that garment. Almost as hot and delicious as his ass - god, a forty-year-old man has no right to be that damn sexy. Irresistible.

If you weren't (almost) sure that Jim could never be attracted to someone as seemingly young and green as you, you'd say that his eyes have turned to look at you more than once ... and yet, it seems so. His gaze is so heavy on you, you feel it glide over every curve of your body, you almost feel him touching your sweaty clothes on top of you – you wish they were his hands. You smile, wave your hand to say hello. Your father smiles, but you don't look at him. Jim doesn't take his eyes off you, even when you take your blue lollipop - just bought from the stall - and suck it hard into your mouth, between your cheeks. You lick it until it leaves a blue streak on the soft flesh of your tongue, around the edge of your rosy lips. You just wait for your dad to walk away - your mom must still be somewhere near the photobooth - and then, finally, you walk towards him.

He wants to spank you. It's a sick, dirty, damned irrepressible impulse. You, with your languid eyes, and that mouth that must be the softest and sweetest he could ever taste, drive him crazy ever since he realized that inside your tight jeans, inside your tight and low-cut T-shirts, inside your full clothes, you've grown into a young, gorgeous woman. He would like to wrap his fingers around your neck, squeeze it until he takes your breath away and hear you beg. Beg for what - this is not important. But when you get close, he's wearing his best smile. Safe, protective - all that he, in that moment, is not. No, you're a lost little sheep, and he's a hungry wolf who can't wait to sink his teeth into your flesh.

"Hello, Chief" you chirp, and smile. Your lips are smeared with blue sugar. It must be delicious.

Jim smiles. "Hey, kid. You okay?"

You huff with an amused laugh. "Kid? I haven't been a kid in a while, Hop. What do I have to do to show you that?"

Adorable. Your games are adorable. "Um, I don't know." Jim takes the lollipop stick, his rough thumb lingering a moment longer on the outline of your lip. The soft blush on your cheeks blossoms on your neck, runs down your chest and his greedy eyes can't help but wonder how far that sweet blush extends on your body. The treat slides out of your mouth, resting on your lips. "A woman, for example, wouldn't waste time with these sweets."

You smile, you fucking vixen. "Really?" you reply, impertinent. Snatching the lollipop from his hand, you suck it once more between your clenched cheeks before handing it to him. There's still a glistening trace of saliva around it. "It's so good, it would be a shame to throw it away. Why don't you taste it?"

His nostrils flare, sniffing in the cool evening air in a desperate attempt to hold on to what little control he has left. And he smiles. Tense, forced-like his pants, increasingly tight and uncomfortable. But when he barely opens his mouth, and tries to take the lollipop from your hand, you push it away, hiding it back in your cheek. "If you want it, you gotta catch it!" and with a goofy laugh, you walk off, hopping towards the parking lots.

God, you will be the death of him.

It's not difficult to find you, leaning against his police van with only one hip, your tongue sinuously rolling around the little blue sugar left, that sweet and colorful stain in your mouth that he doesn't want to wait any longer to taste. You expect him to stop, an amused grin, an almost pedantic reproach, and instead Jim keeps walking towards you with large steps, determined and without hesitation. His eyes have never been so dark and deep, his lips are already anticipating yours and just a moment - he is on you, Hopper cages you between the metal car door and his warm and massive body, his left hand on your hip digs into the softness of your body so hard it almost leaves a mark and his left hand grips your neck - tight enough to take a quick breath away, before covering your lips with his.

The lollipop falls forgotten on the floor.

His tongue eagerly seeks yours, fills your mouth and feeds on your sweet taste. You are perfect - perfect. Your small stifled moans die in your throat as he devours your lips, sucks your tongue between his lips and bites lightly into your mouth just to make you feel how he could destroy you with a simple kiss, break your lip and suck it again.

"Didn't they ever tell you it's not safe to tease a man like me, hm?" he growls into your skin, you feel the roughness of his beard scratching your neck, his lips sucking red marks all over you, as if to write his name on your body. It's terrifying, to find yourself powerless in such intense hands, pressed against such a strong and warm body. It's exciting. Pressing your palm against your mouth, you try to stifle a gasp, somewhere between pleasure and pain when he pinches your nipples from over the top of your shirt. "Your dad knows what you like to do? Runnin' around the parking lot, begging like a desperate bitch, with your stupid, little games? You knew this would happen." His voice makes you tremble with pleasure, and anxiety. "Remember that, when you think about it. You wanted it - you want me, my hands, my tongue, my cock. Come on, feel it.” Jim takes your hand, abruptly, places it on his crotch and squeezes it inside his. Stifling a moan against your neck, he pushes and presses on you. And it's big and hard and thick like no other. You're almost scared, but you're dying to suck it and feel it emptied down your throat.

"Please" you cry, a little whispered prayer, and so desperate. "Please give it to me - please!"

"That's it, love" he grunts "you asked for this." And his hand rips the button of your shorts with an unheard-of force, you almost feel the fabric of the seam tear. Violently, Hopper undresses you. You are naked from the waist down, you are all wet, clammy with sweat and arousal. His fingers are calloused, rough, so thick, when his middle finger swirls around that swollen pearl, you can't help but dig your face into his chest and stifle a cry of pleasure. He smells of tobacco, beer, cheap cologne, sweat. He's so gross and masculine and delicious at the same time - you're confused and so wet for him, you can't think of anything else. Two fingers slide inside you, you're tight but so wet that Jim can only feel the softness of your body. "So fucking wet, baby. So tight - how is it, hm? Tell me you like it."

"God - yes - yes, Hopper, more!"

He laughs, the bastard. "Such a fucking, little slut. That's what you are, fucking desperate for some dick."

"Only yours" you cry "only you, chief."

He groans at the name. "Keep on with this shit and I won't get to fuck you. And you're dying for me to fuck this tight little cunt."

His fingers dig into your sweet juices, so wet you can feel the sound of his movement around your nectar, his fingers pressing hard against that perfect spot inside you, his thumb rough and flat on your clit until it rips a violent, sudden orgasm. Your legs are shaking, you dig your nails into his muscular arms, clinging to him to keep from passing out and you can't even think. You don't notice that he has opened the car door, and you fall backwards into the seats not knowing what to expect. Only when he enters, sitting next to you, fumbling with his belt and the zipper of his trousers, do you know what awaits you.

You smile, spitefully. "I've waited so long, chief. Give it to me, please. Want you so much."

"Yeah?" for the first time he almost seems to blush. Your words stroke his ego in a way he's forgotten; that such a delightful young beauty as you whould so desire him, it was flattering. And exciting. "Then be a good girl and take it all." Hopper pushed you against the seat and spun on top of you. One hand against the window, the other wrapped around your hips to lift your pelvis and push into you. “Oh, shit” he moans, burying his face in the corner of your neck. "Fucking tight."

You have to stuff your gasps against his shoulder, he's so big inside you, he stretches you - so wide open, it's almost painful, but he's perfect inside you. And when he starts to move, coming out slowly, enjoying your softness, and then pushing harder, ruthless and greedy inside you, you can no longer hold back that immense pleasure. "God, fuck yeah-again, again" you plead and he growls, vents and uses your body for his pleasure, like a flimsy toy in his hands, he slams you into the seat, without any kindness. The car sways, screeches, you feel nothing but his hot, ragged breath against your skin, his stiff legs using all their strength to press you against the seat and drive his hard cock between the abused lips of yours wet pussy. You feel him hit that spot, again, your legs gripping his wide hips, wide open to take him all the way into you, so deep—he's touching places you thought weren't there inside you. "Oh fuck, fuck Hopper, I'm going to - I'm gonna-"

"Come - fucking come for me!" he growls. With a desperate moan, one last thrust into you, he feels your pussy throbbing around his member, squeezing and milking it desperately, fully enjoying your orgasm, and it's so intense he can hardly contain himself anymore - as soon as you start again to breathe, Jim slips out and comes too. He empties on you, on your bare thighs, on your belly, splashes of hot cum dirty your skin and your ruined clothes as he masturbates all of his orgasm on you, with a last desperate breath.

"Shit" he whispers, finally. Dropping into the seat next to you, Hopper inhales deeply, and his gasps slowly extinguish, as he decides to grab a cigarette and roll down the car window. "Look at you" he comments, with an amused smile. "Looking like I just murdered you, love."

You smile, tired and fully satisfied. "No, not yet, Hop."

He looks at you, curious. Almost hesitant. But your eyes are so bright – no one should be looked at with such devotion after doing what he just did. Yet there is something so perversely satisfying about seeing his cum on your bare thighs. With a handkerchief, Hopper cleans you, slowly. A hand combs your hair, before stroking your cheek. "Go back to your rides, kid" he grins "I bet we'll see each other again soon."

You bite your lip, and he almost wants to kiss you again, watching you get dressed. "Only if you can catch me, chief." And with that cheeky smile of yours, you leave his car, already fantasizing about your next meeting.

Like it, love it, hate it? Let me know! And if you feel a little naughty and wanting for more, please know my requests are open 🖤

[peachetteprice]

The Highlands | Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Unfortunately, I may be slightly obsessed with the idea of a sleepy Scottish town nigh in the middle of nowhere, frequented almost exclusively by locals, hikers, sight-seers, and one nostalgia-driven, obscenely-chatty Johnny MacTavish, who never ceases to hit on you as you work behind the bar, giving him a rare laugh or a bloated compliment if he seems down on his luck.

He asks for the same drink whenever he's in town – which is sporadic and unpredictable at best – the largest pint of beer, filled by your hands only, and always overpays for it if it means putting an extra couple of quid in your pocket. When he leaves, he gives the pub-owner, Steve-o, a pat on the back, a healthy jab in the ribs and a cheeky grin – Steve-o says they go 'way back', though you don't think Johnny is quite old enough for that to be entirely true – before walking home in just a short-sleeved blue shirt and jeans, as he does every night, no matter the weather (rain, snow, ice, hail, thunderstorm, even the occasional bout of evening sunshine) even if you offer him a ride home when you're finished with your shift, even if he declines it the first two times.

You have to practically beg to drive him home when the river running through the village reaches breaking point, bursting its banks at sun-down and threatening to take the whole town with it, because you're sure it won't stop at a 6'2, 210 lb hunk of human flesh, even if he asserts he's 'sturdy enough' to outlast the flooding.

You have no idea how badly I want to make this a series... and I may or may not have begun a chapter... obsessed with small-town love with a man who never tells you whether he's staying or leaving.

| Masterlist |

[theemporium]

[2.2k] old memories are dug up when a familiar face shows up at a party with a keen interest on you. 

based off the prompt: “i’m yours” “say it again”

.

Steve knew that his friendship with Tommy H had no hopes of redemption when they parted ways, and truthfully he was okay with that. 

In his honest opinion, it took him far too long to realise what a shitty friend Tommy truly was, along with the rest of the stranglers in the group. They didn’t care about Steve, not really. He was just a figurehead, and they would’ve followed whoever wore the crown. 

And though broken friendships did sting a little, he had found him a group of people that truly cared for him. He found a family and he wouldn’t give that up for the world. 

Sure, things were a little different after the drop of King Steve but it wasn’t a feeling he mourned for very long. And for people like Tommy H and Carol, who had only clung onto him for that title, he couldn’t say any tears were shed after he parted ways with them at the end of senior year and hoped to never really see them again. 

Of course, that meant the universe had to reunite them in the most twisted way possible. 

You were young and fresh out of high school yourself when you stumbled into small town Hawkins, Indiana with no real purpose in your life and no real plans either. You were young and eager and not really ready to be tied down to a single place when the world was an oyster of opportunity and experiences. 

You had visited a handful of odd towns and cities alike so far since you left home, but none of them were quite like Hawkins. Something about the town charmed you, and you found yourself situated in Indiana town for longer than you expected and a part of that maybe had to do with the pretty boy with gorgeous hair that always seemed to blush at your compliments and flirt back when you stopped by the ice cream parlour in the mall after work. 

It was a summer full of lingering touches, stolen glances and puppy love that only seemed to exist between two teens. 

Things took a bit of a turn when the summer twisted into Russian bunkers, escape plans and the smell of burning flesh forever burned into your senses as you watched the mall you were so beloved off burn down. 

By that point, you would’ve been up and out of the town before the sun rose and the firemen were able to put the fire out. 

But something kept you in Hawkins—correction; Steve Harrington kept you in Hawkins. 

Months of realising that maybe scouting the globe wasn’t what you were looking for, maybe it was a feeling or a knowing thought: or maybe that epiphany was Steve with his pretty eyes and kind words and hair that just made you swoon. 

It led you straight into over eight months later, music and voices buzzing around the abandoned community pool. It was early spring, the temperature was warm enough to shed the winter coats and scarfs, and the adolescents of Hawkins deemed it something to celebrate. 

The pool was empty, the space now filled with rambunctious teens and kegs and chants that echoed off the tile walls. There were speakers set up on the lifeguard post, empty solo cups already scattered around the ground and the thrill in the air that they could be caught at any moment. 

Steve was hesitant to show up, knowing just how he was perceived at these events and just how far he had come since then. But you pouted your lips, flashed him puppy dog eyes and Steve couldn’t really say no to you. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” you said to him as you stood between his legs, your fingers dancing along the collar of his shirt. “As much as I love Dustin, we need to be around some people our age.” 

Steve had snorted but he didn’t disagree, muttering his answer under his breath as you pressed a sweet kiss on his cheek and quickly headed towards the beeping microwave that contained the popcorn you put in minutes ago. 

Standing amongst the dancing, drunk teens with cheap beer that went down far easier than he remembered, Steve thought you were right. You both needed this, a sense of normalcy and adolescent upbringing that was torn away from you between an array of different reasons. 

You deserved a night to just pretend everything was okay. 

Steve hadn’t even minded as people greeted and spoke, the small chat a bit awkward and repetitive but it was bearable. You had spent most of the night tucked under his arm, grinning against the rim of your cup as Steve whispered stories and random facts about the people he spent four years in high school with, and some of them years before that too. 

“I’ll be right back,” you whispered to him as you waved your empty cup. 

Steve didn’t say anything, simply nodding his head and giving your shoulders a soft squeeze before you made your way to the other side of the pool, climbing down the ladder to get to the kegs in the empty pool. 

His eyes dazed over a little as he listened to some kid a year or two younger than him ramble away—about what Steve wasn’t too sure—but the kid was passionate and he didn’t have the heart to walk away. So he stood there, nodding his head and letting out hums of acknowledgement as he sipped on his drink and let his eyes wander around the party every so often. 

It hit the five minute mark when Steve realised that you hadn’t returned with a drink, his eyebrows furrowed together as he scanned the area trying to spot you. 

It took less than ten seconds before he noticed you, standing beside the kegs in the empty pool, cup in hand and a smile on your face as you chatted away to someone. He couldn’t see the person’s face but Steve didn’t need to. 

He spent just under four years with the jerk. Steve didn’t need to see his face to know it was Tommy H. 

Steve muttered half-hearted apologies to the boy in front of him before he began shoving through the throng of drunk teens, his eyes fixed on you and his old friend. 

Your eyes caught his over Tommy’s shoulder and something in his chest stirred at the way your smile widened. 

“Steve,” you greeted with a smile as the boy quickly took up the space next to you, uncaring of the knowing look you flashed him as his arm around your shoulder pulled you closer. “I bumped into your friend.” 

Tommy only grinned at Steve, all feline and bad omens. “So many stories to share, huh?” 

“Tommy,” Steve eventually spoke, his voice blank and unamused. “Didn’t realise you were in town.” 

“Spring break,” he said with a casual shrug. “Thought I’d come home from college, you know?” 

Steve didn’t miss the jab. The small brag that whilst he was stuck in the same town lines, Tommy was off to some hotshot college he had no doubt his father paid for. 

“Mhm,” Steve hummed but didn’t say much else. 

“Quite the girl you’ve got there,” Tommy commented as his eyes focused back on you, the smile on his face was one Steve instantly recognised—charming and suave and the same one he used to make girls like Carol giggle and blush. “Very different to Nancy Wheeler.” 

Steve’s jaw clenched. 

“Is that how you small town folk measure people’s personalities?” you piped up, and to anyone else the question would seem genuine and innocent, but the glimmer of mischief in your eyes said otherwise. 

Tommy grinned. “She’s feisty.” 

“What do you want, Tommy?” Steve gritted out between clenched teeth. 

“Don’t be like that, Steve,” The freckled boy said in such a patronising tone that it was a surprise the cheap beer in Steve’s cup wasn’t splashed in his face at this point. “We used to be best buds. I just wanted to get to know your girl, make sure she’s taking care of my old friend.”

There were a million different thoughts racing through Steve’s head at that moment. The first being the audacity of the boy to talk about you like a caregiver, like you were simply partaking in a job and you weren’t a human with emotions in a relationship. The second was that Tommy H knew Steve better than he liked to admit, and he also knew what riled the boy up. And the third being that he knew there was much more to his reasoning than he was giving, the conversation with you purposeful and chosen to be done when Steve wasn’t present. 

And along with his a million thoughts were a million different responses Steve had on the tip of his tongue to deal with Tommy, feeling young and bitter and mean like he was back in his King Steve glory days. He felt a little disgusted at himself for the way his stomach flipped in anticipation for Tommy to be on the receiving end of the snarky comments this time around. 

But before Steve even got a chance to lay down his blow and hit Tommy where it hurt, you had already opened your mouth. 

“Oh yeah, no, of course,” you said as you nodded your head in encouragement, face remaining serious as you tucked yourself further into Steve’s side. “I mean, Steve has told me so much about his best friend from high school, it’s only right that I get the chance to meet him too.” 

A look of surprise flashed in Tommy’s eyes before it was replaced with the usual nonchalance. “See, Steve, your girl gets it.”

“Yeah, I mean it’s great to finally put a face to the boy Steve told me cried when he got rejected by three different girls and puked in his mother’s rose bush,” you stated so casually that it took Steve a few moments before he even processed what you said. 

Tommy let out a nervous laugh. “I—” 

“And he also told me about that time you pissed yourself during eighth grade basketball tryouts because you were so nervous,” you continued with a bright smile on your face as the boy in front of you started to pale. 

“I have no idea—” 

“Oh god, how did I almost forget?” you laughed as you playfully slapped your forehead. “You’re the Tommy! The one that spent your whole high school career so far up my boyfriend’s ass because you wanted to be him.” 

Steve could barely string a sentence together, something between a scoff and a laugh leaving his lips as he looked between you and his old friend with something quite like pride blooming in his chest.

“Whatever,” Tommy grumbled under his breath and didn’t say anything else as he quickly hurried to disappear into sea of partygoers. 

Steve watched him go, eyes glaring at the back of his head before he turned his head to look down at you, a totally innocent expression on your face. 

“Do you think he likes me?” you questioned, unable to bite back the grin that grew on your face as Steve let out an ungraceful snort. 

“You…” Steve trailed off, shaking his head and biting down on his lower lip to stop the ramble of words that wanted to escape. “You’re amazing.” 

You shrugged, cheeks burning a little but that didn’t shake your confidence. “I know.” 

Steve’s grin only widened. 

“You know,” you murmured as your arms wrapped loosely around his waist with a shit-eating grin on your face. “You get this adorable pout on your face when you’re jealous.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t—”

You shot him a look.

“Okay, I was a little jealous,” he admitted with a heavy sigh, his hands locking behind your back and pulling your body closer to his. “I just…don’t like seeing you with him.” 

“I knew what he was doing the second he walked up to me,” you told him, the moment oddly sweet and intimate as you stood three feet away from what you were sure was someone’s lunch that came back up after one too many drinks. “He thought he was so smart, it was cute.” 

Steve’s nose scrunched in disgust. “Cute?” 

“Calm down, big boy,” you laughed as you watched his face remain unamused by your word choice. “I only have eyes for you.” 

Steve hummed. “Yeah, and then you go call other guys cute so…” 

“I’m yours,” you told him with a shake of your head, amused but not surprised at your boyfriend’s antics. “You know that very well.”

Steve’s eyes softened. “What was that?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m yours.”

A cheeky grin grew on his face. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours, Steve Harrington,” you said as leaned in close enough your nose brushed against his. “Even despite how much you annoy me.” 

“You love me anyways,” he murmured. 

You sighed. “I do.” 

But despite what you said and despite the way you may have muttered a few light-hearted complaints under your breath, you couldn’t deny you loved the way Steve grinned at you as he wrapped an arm around you, happily calling you his girl for the rest of the night as you mingled amongst the group. 

And you can’t deny the jealousy was worth the treat the were in for the second you and Steve were alone.

.

[lizzy019]

𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝐸𝒶𝓉, 𝒮𝑜 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉?

Dom!Darrel Curtis x Sub!Two-Bit Mathews x Plus-size Fem!Reader

cw-> insecurities, polyamorous relationship, double penetration, booty slapping, overstimulation

Word Count -> 1.6K

I love Darbit so much :DDD Did you know that $10 back in the 60s is the equivalent to about $105 nowadays? Cool asf

The timer ticked as you three waited for the cake to finish its baking process, Darry was whipping some icing to put on top of it as a small treat.

“Should I go get beer? We have beer, right? I think I should go get beer-”

“Two-Bit, we have beer. Sitcher ass down and wait, it’s only a few more minutes.” Darry scolded lightly, annoyed by Two-Bit’s disheartening energy.

Two-Bit sighed dramatically, hobbling his way over to you and pulling you into a hug so time could pass by faster. You smelled so nice, so fresh and clean. He felt rather dirty almost instantly.

“Mmh.. my little Minnie mouse, d’ya wanna come with me to get beer?” He asked as he hugged you close, relishing in your lovely soft flesh squishing against his. It felt so heavenly and warm.

You could only smile at the nickname and chuckle at his request, your own expression becoming warm as you shrugged.

“Darry said we have beer, but if you’re so determined, I can give you money.” You smiled, giving his back a soft rub as his smile widened and his head nodded with vigor to your offer.

You pulled away to go find your wallet, taking out a simple 10 dollar bill and hurrying back to him. You knew it’d either be just enough, or maybe a little less, but it’d work out for him.

“Buy the beer we ALL like, not just the ones you like, Two.” You chided, shooing him out and laughing as he jogged out of the house.

The door slammed shut behind him, and Darry was prepping the icing in the fridge, waiting for it to cool.

“You’re one of the few who can tolerate his obnoxious behaviour. Maybe that’s why you’re so hot.” He hummed, walking to you and gently rubbing your hip with his rough palm.

“Or maybe it’s these lovely thick hips, with a pretty, big butt behind ‘em. Maybe it’s how gorgeous you look all bare and exposed to me whenever Two-Bit gets needy. I dunno, maybe it’s just you.” Darry murmured, his hand now digging gently into the soft flesh of your hip, traveling to scoop an asscheek of yours into his hand before smirking.

“Look atchu, I can’t get this from any ol’ girl. I don’t want ‘em skinny anyway, that’s not my style. I want a girl who can take a big hug, who has little belly rolls, love handles and thick thighs. Plus, the bigger, the wealthier, hm?”

Your cheeks were hot with a pink hue, hands at his waist as you fought so hard to not giggle out of appreciation. While half the things he said didn’t make much sense to you, the only thing that stuck was that he liked it and so did Two-Bit.

With a soft hum, Darry’s hands gently smoothed over under your shirt to caress the soft pudge you had, that little piece of fat in which you hated so much about yourself. It was warm, and so very cute.

“Yeah but.. don’t I look gluttonous? I look like I practically inhale food.” You murmured, watching his hands lovingly squeeze your rolls.

“Yeah. You eat, so what? Doesn’t every person need food to live heathily? You’re worrying, I don’t like it.” Darry groaned out in disbelief.

With some effort but with a big smile, he lifted you up without a second thought to carry you and sit you atop the table. Luckily today, Steve and Soda were at work and Ponyboy was at school, Johnny and Dally were together who knows where, so it was just you and Darry now.

And Two-Bit soon enough.

Soft, slow kisses were pressed along the muscle of your neck, your hands clutching his triceps as little sighs of pleasure coursed through your every vein.

It was only once Darry began to get too touchy did Two-Bit burst through the door with beer and a bright smile.

“I’m baaack! Where are you tw- oh..” Two-Bit interrupted himself when he saw the situation.

A wide smile cracked on the Mickey fan’s face, and instantly the beer was forgotten and placed to the side as he chucked his leather jacket off to hurry over to the two of you.

“You started without me? No fair!” Two-Bit cried, gently tugging Darry and you to Darry’s bedroom.

“Come on, come on! Let’s go!” His genuine excitement for this had both you and Darry smiling, and without reticence, you both followed.

Soon, you all were huddled together in Darry’s bed, naked and bare to each other as Two-Bit smiled softly at your wettened panties.

“You kept her last pair, can I keep this pair? Please, Darry?” Two-Bit asked so politely, how could Darry say no?

The undergarment of yours was exchanged as if it were simple money, something to use for personal gain whether it be for dirty pleasure or lust-filled admiration. Whatever it was, Two-Bit certainly wanted it.

Once they were in his hand, he whiffed it happily and your face scrunched up in disgust, a light chuckle resonating from your throat.

“Ew, you weirdo.” You teased, chucking the fabric away and laying down on your side to face Two-Bit.

Darry set himself up behind you, offering you a condom as a yes-no type question. If Darry was going anal, why did the condom matter? Ohh, for Two-Bit! You shook your head and smiled, you’d taken the pill early in the morning.

So with a nod, the condom was put aside and he gently applied some lube to your pretty puckered hole. Your pussy didn’t need it from how much it was freely spewing out.

“Alright Darry, same time, yeah?” Two-Bit asked with a soft smile.

Darry nodded, lining himself up properly and waiting for Two-Bit to start up as well. Soon enough, the two men’s dicks were ramming into your holes like relentless drills to concrete. Pounding away until there was nothing.

“Oh baby! Oh, my little Minnie mouse, you got me feelin’ it! Fuck!” Two-Bit cried out in pleasure, hands seizing your pretty protruding stomach and squeezing it lovingly.

The sounds were bouncing off the walls, the sounds of wet slapping, moaning, bed creaking, all of it mixed into one harmonious sound that you all didn’t wish to forget. The moment was forming a bond stronger than before now that its base was solidified with love.

Being Two-Bit’s “little Minnie mouse” and Darry’s “sweetie”, the whole moment was enough to have you going cross-eyed in pleasure, but not just lustful pleasure either.

Darry’s hand came to slap your rear in a light motion, to get you to clench on the both of them. You moaned out, arm lazily draped over Two-Bit’s body while he hid away in your half hug.

“Yeah sweetie, tighten real good for us. Look at Two-Bit, he’s seein’ stars. I’ma make you see stars too, sweetie. Just wait for it, be a good girl.” Darry commanded with less force than he could give, too enraptured in the pleasure to even be coherent enough to speak his thoughts.

“Ohh baby, you got us feelin’ so good. How does it feel bein’ worshiped by us two? Havin’ us tell ya how pretty you are?” Two-Bit sighed out in ecstasy, relishing in your pussy’s tight walls.

“Fu-uck! Feels so good! I love it.. I love you! Both of you!” You whined out into the room’s already obscene mess of sounds.

Once everyone found a rhythm that suited all their needs, you three were climbing up the stairs of pure passionate pleasure. It was smooth and effortless, the only occasional slip-up was, literally, Two-Bit accidentally slipping out.

Fingers clawing at Two-Bit’s fabric shirt, you could only begin to get louder with your sounds as you approached a finale. A climax with the two of them penetrating you, it excited you like no other.

“Close! Fuck, so close! Faster, faster.. fuck!” You moaned out into the room, finding yourself being swooped away by your climax to cloud nine.

You swore you couldn’t see anything for a good minute before everything settled back down, but the sensitivity of your walls and their constant thrusting was getting you a bit too overstimulated.

“S-stop, stop! ‘M sensitive!” You whimpered, hot tears spilling from your cheeks at the lack of mercy they provided.

Yet luckily enough, Two-Bit tapped out to let his load ooze into your welcoming womb, and shortly after, Darry had let his release flow too as his cum filled your arse.

With huffs and puffs, desperate attempts to clutch back air, you all were now happily adjusting to get some quality cuddles in. Until a voice boomed from the front door, alerting you all.

“That’s swell! Who bought more beer?” The voice called, sounding like Steve was back.

Now everyone was huddled together into the living room, talking amongst themselves and eating the chocolate cake previously made while you and Two-Bit watched some Mickey Mouse.

You two shared the same beer bottle, and he’d give an expression of disgust whenever he took a sip.

“How ever you all like this type of beer is nasty. ‘S too dry.” He hummed out, watching with saddened eyes as the show he loved so dearly cut to commercials.

You could only laugh, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek before standing upright to go fetch another slice of cake.