#m has beer in the fridge if you want a drink

[keirametzbrassknuckles]

Had a sneaking suspicion that my roommate was eating my food because stuff was like... disappearing but just walked in on him in the kitchen cooking my bacon and drinking my wine. I am about to go ballistic.

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ DECAY

tw. ddlg, noncon, daddy kink, dom & sub themes, forced threesome, patronization, manipulation, objectification, size kink wordcount. 4.4k

a/n. ♡ i wish i could have done more about this idea but i gave myself a bit of a word count limit for kinktober but don't be surprised if i end up writing more for this in the future jhydgusgfy i wanted to go more extreme but i was a bit bummed by the self imposed limitations kHdyugs iT IS What it is ily thank you for reading

miya atsumu x fem!reader x miya osamu

You’re pouting somethin’ fierce, and thick crocodile tears bead your lash line like diamonds.

Osamu’s not entirely sure when it started. If it started at all. Maybe things just happened to play out this way, and it was entirely coincidental, a whisper in the grander scheme of your relationship with his brother - all too small to mention. Maybe safer to say, he’s not sure when he started noticing it— but once he began, there was nothing to keep him from seeing it too vividly in every interaction.

You’ve been with Tsumu since your last year together in high school. Stuck with him through thick and thin, every busy month, each and every match and scandal and fallout - and Osamu’s nothing but grateful for that. You make him happy, Hell, even a blind man could see how the blond blossoms open when you’re around. Becoming a more grown, dependable version of himself. Some days Osamu blinks and it’s like his mirror image has far surpassed his own grounded maturity, leaving him behind in the dust. And it’s definitely you that brings that out in him - and he’s grateful.

But — he remembers the early days. More than maybe anyone else, Osamu remembers that it wasn’t always this way. You were definitely more soft and gentle than they were as teens, but you were no shrinking violet either. A decade ago, Atsumu would’ve been caught dead underestimating ya like he does with a glitter in his eye now. Like it’s a game the two of you are clued in on. Osamu’s eyes glide over the scene painted before him, sipping his beer from the couch.

“Aw, pet, you’ve gotta watch where yer goin’. C’mere, did that hurt?” Atsumu is knelt before you, cupping your face between two rough palms, as he kisses up and down your face. Your wobbly sniffles get hidden in his chest when he pulls you in, and rubs your back like you’re a toddler with a scraped knee. Your hands fist into his shirt before you take a deep breath, going up in his warmth. And his twin beams like he’s the happiest man on the planet, before going to pick you up with a bit too much practiced ease.

Osamu’s not against the pda. You’ve always been touchy, and Tsumu’s a clingy bastard at the best of times. “‘M so sorry, baby. Daddy almost walked straight over ya.” It’s more that he has a problem with. He looks away when Atsumu’s hands slide down to grip your ass and squeeze you extra close, looking down for another kiss that you give like it’s been practiced a hundred times. He’s not sure if the slight pout you have on is truly the pain though, or more the embarrassment he can see creep up your ears and cheeks.

“I’m sorry for getting in the way,” you whisper back, and by the time Osamu looks up Atsumu has made it back to the couch with a fresh beer, with you now positioned on his lap and wrapped around him like a baby koala. You don’t look over at him though, barely acknowledging the strange situation. Almost makes him feel like he’s the one that’s out of place, even though he came over on Atsumu’s request. Even though he was invited.

Samu takes another chug of his drink, before raising his brows, leaning in with an attempt to catch your eyes. “Yer not gonna have any? ‘S yer fridge we’re looting.” You only disconnect yourself from Atsumu’s chest to look at him with heat on your cheeks, perfectly treated hair shining as it falls along your shoulders.

��No, thank you. Atsum- uhm- d-daddy doesn’t let me have any unless we’re going out. It makes me get all bloated, so ‘s better I don’t.” Your long lashes flutter, before you smile again, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Samu.” There’s a beat of silence where his twin seems to give him a look -one he can’t really make out- where Atsumu puts his own beer aside to pull you closer by your hips and wrap his arms around you like you’re best molten to his front. “Hey,” you whisper then, and Atsumu looks up, “can I move? My knees hurt a little like this.”

“‘S that right? Ya wanna turn so you can look at Samu too?” His brilliant smile is almost bright enough to make him ignore the possessive hands that travel too far down when helping you turn, or the almost-subtle groan he lets out when you wiggle back onto his lap. Osamu stares off into the kitchen instead. “You wanna sit ‘n look at someone else ‘cause I won’t do anything. Is daddy not good ‘nough? Maybe I spoil ya a lil’ too rotten.”

“‘M not rotten~, I do like sitting in your lap,” you squeak out almost sadly, starting to leave little pecks all over Atsumu’s lips as if to shut him up. That would probably be good, Osamu thinks. He doesn’t want to consider the possibility that you’re actually tempering him, but it sure does seem like it. “I’m just tired.” And though your voice drops to an almost whisper, he’s too aware of your pouted, glossy lips to not hear every word. Your hands trail through his hair, sliding down his neck with each slow breath. “Just- Daddy, don’t be upset. I’m trying my best.”

You look almost pained to say it, not that his twin cares. “Please don’t get mad.” Anything else passes over Osamu’s head. He just places the empty bottle by his feet and tries to ignore the way you’re now draped onto Atsumu’s lap like you two will start dry humping any second.

“‘M not mad, pretty girl.” The blond grabs two handfuls of ass and rocks your waist against him, making you squeak, before he runs his tongue along his teeth with a noise. “I’m just thinkin’ that I don't want Samu ta see ya like this.”

You whimper when Atsumu’s mouth glides along your jaw and throat, falling back into the couch -crown brushing Osamu’s thigh- when his twin pushes and presses a few kisses down your throat and chest. “Alright, let’s go out.” Then he pulls back flushed, and gets you up along with him. “Before daddy ends up fucking that pretty pussy with a live audience.” He ushers you towards the door with a few pats on your butt. “Go an’ get yer shoes, I’ll tie yer laces for ya, little girl.”

“I- I can really do it myself, ‘s fine.”

It only makes Atsumu puff out his chest, and stare you down with a hungry stare. “Go on, baby. Yer little enough to need my help.” You don’t say anything, but there’s a tense breath of silence that covers the room before you look away with shame written all over your expression.

Osamu’s too speechless to do much but just stare at the side of his brother’s face, who barely shows any emotion other than enjoyment at all. Seriously. It’s not like you to let someone just walk all over you. Or at least, it wasn’t like you, as far as he was concerned. Things have clearly changed. He frowns. “Do ya really have ta talk about ‘er like that when I’m around, stupid Tsumu? Keep it in yer pants, wouldya?”

Instead of the normally snappy reply that he’d expect, the blond just shrugs, tugging at his waistband like the tightness is a little uncomfortable. “Can’t help it. She’s so fuckin’ cute whinin’ and crying out for me.” Brown irises find Osamu’s, and he smiles. “You’d feel the same if ya saw what she can do.” He pats his thighs when you come back from the hall, and holds out his hands. “Come ‘ere, little princess. Daddy’ll dress ya right up.”

+

Your frilly little implication of a dress is bunched around your hips as he lets you down from another bear hug, and puts on a slight pout. “I’ll be back soon, baby. They need an emergency setter for just an hour of practice. Maybe two.”

“It’s never just one hour.”

The overly whiny request only makes Atsumu glitter more, as his eyes flick down your body and his tongue is caught between his teeth. Truly, the guy has absolutely no decency. This was supposed to be a fun weekend away from work for the three of ya. Not that Atsumu seems bothered by that. After a few seconds he kisses your forehead though, letting you lean into his arms and looking ever so teenie tiny compared to your boyfriend -they’ve both filled out in both size and muscle since high school after all- and it becomes even more apparent when Tsumu squeezes you under his chin. “If ya need anything ya’ll ask Samu, alright? Just pretend he’s me.”

You bat your lashes at him, but let your grip on him slowly be peeled off. “... Okay. Can I have dinner while you’re gone?”

“Hm, sure.” The blond runs his fingers through his hair. “Daddy’s gonna miss ya. I’m not gonna be gone fer long.” Then he eyes him with a grin that Osamu kind of wants to slap off of his cheeks. “Thanks for ‘sittin ‘er.” He doesn’t reply with a smart remark about him treating you like a dog, and just gives a vague hum instead. With that he gives the brunet a quick wave, and gathers his phone and keys on his way to the door. You linger around the entrance a bit longer, before slowly returning to the dinner table with slightly heated cheeks. You tuck your knees to your chest when you sit and reach for one of the side dishes — and he can’t help but say it when the door falls into lock.

“So, what’s all that about?”

“Hm?” Your head drops to the side slightly as you put some pickled radish in your mouth and hum. “Mm, this ‘s really good, Samu! Can I have some?”

“Help yerself,” he nods, and also slides the plates you can’t reach closer. It’s not like he doesn’t understand it at all. You’ve got that sort of puppy-eyes look down, big and round and soft wherever you look, no matter who you’re talking to. It’s the kind of gentleness that calls for protection, and he’s not even the possessive type, but despite that the feeling of being needed sits on his chest and longs to come out. But still. He can’t help but think Atsumu’s overplaying his cards. “Seriously though. You know ya can tell my shitty brother no, right? I’ll straighten ‘em out for ya.”

The words seem to process for a moment, before you load some more food onto your utensils and swallow it with a little noise of thoughtfulness. “I- I don’t know. Atsumu says he likes being the provider. At first it was just little stuff he helped with, and I thought it was nice to be cared for.” You fumble a little with the chopsticks when a piece of fish is extra slippery, and smile when he helps you out and picks it up, carrying it towards your mouth. “You don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve fed myself instead of Tsumu doing it for me,” you softly mention. That’s weird, ain’t it? That’s definitely weird.

Still he’s carrying the food to your mouth, and be it instinct, or habit, you look too fuckin’ sweet waiting like a puppy for him to help out, big, doe-eyes and all.

You let the piece onto your tongue, before wrapping those pretty lips around and gratefully humming and — fuck. You don’t notice the way his brow ticks, but his stomach rolls with the realization. Instead of lingering too long on the implication that he might feel the same exact way as his twin, he lets you talk, after chewing for a while. “I just- I don’t like that he doesn’t ever take me seriously anymore. He thinks I can’t do anything by myself, even brushing my own teeth, or picking out clothes! It’s so- so frustrating-” you continue until you run out of air, and seem to suddenly realize who you’re talking to. “Oh, don’t tell Atsumu that. Please don’t tell him. He gets so upset and I don’t like it when he’s mad.”

Samu can’t help but just nod in agreement, not sure what else to say. He doesn’t think his brother would ever hurt ya. Then again, Samu also didn’t think his brother was much of a kink lifestyle sort of guy until the last few months— so clearly he doesn’t know everything anymore. And you seem… okay with it, right? He’s not sure, really. Would he even have the guts to tell Tsumu off if he was sure you weren’t? Instead of lingering on that uncomfortable possibility, he pivots. “Let’s watch somethin’? What do ya wanna see?”

Your eyes shimmer when they flick up, and you swallow before smiling. “Can I choose?” You wiggle in your seat. “Atsumu -w-well- daddy doesn’t let me watch scary stuff, but I’ve been dying to watch the Ring again.” You then lean into his space a little more, and he feels his heart skip a beat. “I assume I don’t have to snuggle up to you though? He did say to pretend you’re him but…” You wrap your thin sweater a little closer. “I’ll hold your hand? He can’t get mad that way.”

How can he say no when you’re staring at him with those fucken stars in your eyes? His fingers find yours on the table, and your hand feels way smaller and softer than his own work-worn ones. “Yeah, sure. But ya shouldn’t watch nothin’ ta give ya nightmares though…” The urge to pick you up and wrap you nice and safe in his embrace becomes stronger by the second, and his eyebrows furrow.

+

Atsumu is quick to descend on you in the safety of the separate room. His hands glide down your sides and hike up your shirt over your arms, before running his fingertips down the valley of your breasts. “Samu was nice to ya?”

“Mhm,” you bop your head a few times, shivering when the cooler air peaks your nipples and Tsumu brushes his thumb over them. “He was- r-really- ah daddy, that tickles.” Your voice trembles when he eyes you down, before letting his fingers trail down to your shorts instead. He motions your butt up and you lift yourself politely, letting him slide those down your legs too as he lifts one and starts placing kisses down your ankle up your leg. “You said we’d get ready for bed~”

“We are gettin’ ready,” his smile goes a little crooked when you bite your lip, “just curious ‘s all. Ya think Samu likes ya?” He lets you fall back onto the plush covers before walking into the ensuite and coming back with some skincare that he places unceremoniously onto the bedside table- and you frown. If your boyfriend asked you a few years ago, you’d assume he was just genuinely curious. About you getting along with his family, his twin, his other half. But now, there’s an agenda woven into the words. Always is.

“We get along well. Why?”

His lips jerk up, and with a simple shrug he continues. “He’s good too ya, ain’t he? An’ I’ve been thinking I want Samu to watch us some time.” You’re too shocked to say anything, but your mouth drops open. No.

No, it’s already embarrassing how he makes you whine and whimper like a pet for him when you’re alone. It’s embarrassing when he makes you call him daddy when there’s people around with no shame- like he gets off on it. But this- his hands find your face with a soaked cotton pad to start cleaning you with gentle motions, and you find your eyes starting to water. You hate that you’ve become this fragile little flower that can’t speak up when it matters. You’d like to think you’re still the same. But your lip wobbles too easily as Atsumu continues, and your voice cracks.

The mortification is too much to bear, it swallows you up whole. He couldn’t possibly make you. “I don’t want that.”

“What’s that?” he coos, eyelids hooded. He leans down to you more.

You push his hand away from your face and frown, but tears still spill over. You fucking hate being such a crybaby. “I don’t want Samu to watch us.” You still frown though, doing your best to blink away the waterworks. And instead of taking you seriously - of course - Tsumu tilts his head in that sort of understanding that you’re throwing a tantrum like a toddler might. But you’re serious. You mean it. His freshly washed hair falls over his brows, but his hands still find your shoulders to keep you in place below him.

“Aw, baby. Poor girl.” The soft rubbing of his thumb along your skin only makes you more shaky in that feeling, his eyes roaming your body before he pushes you back onto the bed and crawls onto it beside you, pulling you into his touch. It doesn’t escape you that you’re already naked and he’s still dressed, keeping you tight. “I didn’t mean to upset ya. Shhh, shhh, it’s okay.” You swallow, and push against his chest with a slight whimper - why can’t he take you seriously?

“I mean it, Atsumu.”

Before you can say anything else he pinches your cheek hard, and his dark brows lace together. “Don’t be rude.” The darkness fades quickly, but he still doesn’t show any intention of letting you go. In fact, because of his strength against you you’re only forced deeper into his embrace, head pressed to his warm chest. “Daddy’ll take care of you. Always do, don’t I?” You open your mouth to retort, but he interrupts again, and squishes your cheeks together before placing a few patient kisses onto your pouty lips. “Listen to daddy. It’ll be fine.”

It’s so frustrating.

You want to move. You want to remove yourself from the situation he’s putting you in, or put on some fucking clothes, and instead you’re being mocked by him. Once more you try to give him a push for some space, but because he barely feels it or pretends not to, you don’t make a dent. “Tsumu, I don’t want to have sex with your brother watching~” you end up crying out, feeling the tears well up again. “Get off of me.” You start wiggling, as his hand wraps around your wrist and forces it to wrap around his body, clamping your hands together behind his back as he rolls over and starts kissing the top of your head.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry. Everything’s gonna be okay.” You want him to leave you alone. “My sweet little girl. You don’t gotta fight me, ‘m not doin’ nothing. I’m here for ya.” His heartbeat is so steady against you that it makes you want to shove him and scream in his face to fuck off, but of course you don’t. You don’t scream. You don’t push, or fight, or make yourself clear. All you can do is cry into his shirt as his smell wraps around you and you struggle to make the waterworks stop.

“Let go~” you sniffle into his shirt, and shiver when his hands start sliding down to pull you back onto him, forcing his thick, strong thigh between your legs. Your straining muscles give up after a while of pushing back, and his embrace still stays.

“Shush, little baby. I got ya, don’t worry yer pretty little head.”

“Daddy~” you whine softer this time, and don’t fight him when he nudges you face up to kiss him. He groans for a moment in what can only be satisfaction at winning the fight, before rolling over so you’re trapped under his heavy body, chest rising and falling against him. And as you try to stop crying, Atsumu has the nerve to rub your head like all of this isn’t his fault.

+

You can’t escape the heavy gaze anywhere you look. It’s suffocating. Not that you have much room to think about it between the way Tsumu’s taking up your space and forcing one of your legs over his shoulder so he can spread you open. It’s a brief reprieve from the prying eyes blocked by his broad back, but you know it will end. Because Tsumu didn’t just drag his twin here to know that someone’s watching. He wants to make a show of you. To show off the type of power he- oh. Your half-lidded eyes flutter open wider when his fingers spread open your slick and your pussy clenches around nothing.

And Atsumu grins. “Yer so quiet, baby. Are’ya shy?” You don’t answer that, instead trying to chase after his hand when he moves away, wrapping comparatively small hands around his wrist. You can feel the heat of Samu at the foot of the bed, uncomfortably perched onto it with his knee before he dips the mattress further, and your blinks get more rapid.

“Daddy… I- I don’t-”

“Hush,” he moves your other leg aside more, leaving you spread embarrassingly open before he dips his body and glides both hands under your ass, lifting you a few inches. His mouth descends without thinking, kisses and then tongue making you whimper as he eats you out. Not gently, but possessive, demanding licks that drag your split attention right back to him - only until Samu leans forward a little to get a better view. This is so fucking embarrassing. “Mh- Taste good, pretty thing.” Atsumu’s eyes have that same cocky, knowing look he always does when he gets you like this. You won’t do anything back, and he knows that. “Yer droolin’ all over my chin.”

You are. The slick’s coating his lips when he pulls back, trailing kisses up your thighs, before he slides two fingers inside your squelching pussy traitorously slow, and watches your face scrunch. He’s big. He always is, and knows it too, big hands, big thighs, chest, shoulders. Most of all, he’s fucked you enough times now to know that you can’t take him easily without prep, and even that is embarrassing. You could have gone a whole lifetime without having Osamu know that. Why did he even agree to this?

“Little brat,” Tsumu says after a few seconds, flicking your nipple painfully as he stares, clenching his jaw. “Don’t be rude. Samu came all the way out here to see ya, ‘n yer gonna lock up the whole time?” You swallow, and try to talk, but he instead curls his fingers inside your pussy and slides them deeper. Right where you can’t handle them, until you have no choice but to curl and wiggle away from him, mouth pulling open to moan.

“Ah, agh, daddy! Daddy, daddy.” Samu’s broad shouldered figure being barely dressed in a tank and boxers, along with Atsumu’s almost godly physique hanging over you is too much. You shut your eyes. “I can’t- f-focus.” You hold onto his arm as he fucks his fingers in and out of you for long enough that your entire body starts tingling, before he peels you off and turns you over. Rough hands hike you onto your knees, and your ass up in the air before his rough palm lands hard and sends a stinging heat through your legs. “Ow, ow~”

“That’s more like it. I know yer a noisy little bitch.” He rubs your lips up and down with his thumb a few more times, before you hear the sound of boxers being peeled off. “Now, what do ya say when daddy will give ya something ya want?”

He presses the hot head of his cock against you but doesn’t push in yet, and your poor pussy clenches around nothing as tears fill your eyes and you grip two fistfuls of pillow. You can’t say it. Not with Samu sitting right there, judging you both for- another sharp spank makes you shiver, and you whimper into the pillow. The sting aches until heat blooms under the damaged skin, and you unclench your teeth. “Please, daddy? Please fuck me.” You doubt you’re stretched enough to take him comfortably, even with the fingering and all the wetness coating your puffy pussy and the inside of your thighs. “Pretty please?”

There’s a few moments before his hand presses down on your back and his cock slides inside, and you do your best not to gasp too much feeling him force you open. It aches though, and you have to widen your knees to make room and— God it feels so good. You’re not sure whether to cry because of the feeling, or because you can’t stop yourself from moaning high pitched and whiny like a whore putting on her best performance. You really can’t help it. “Agh, ah- d-daddy, move, please.” The heavy weight of his cock bottoms out and he presses his heavy balls against you for a few seconds, before pulling out with a groan.

The motion pulls your entire body back, only stopped by his hand, like you’re some cocksleeve— and you cry harder. “Ah, ah, ugh— Atsumu,” you pout, and he pets your head.

“I’m right here, doll. Does that feel good?” You nod, and cling on, before opening your eyes to look at him with his thighs right next to your head and stroking his cock with an almost torturous pace. You whimper when being bottomed out into, and then your eyes shoot open. You can’t turn, but the low groan Samu lets out when you clench hard around him, says enough— and Tsumu laughs as he watches you panic and your bottom lip wobble, petting your head. Like this is all some big game, keeping you down under his hand while you shake your head.

“No, no- you said- you said he’d watch- agh, daddy! No, no no no, you promised! You promised.” You can’t stop yourself from moaning when he hits deep inside, fucking you much too well. Your mouth falls open as you try to stop the sound, but Tsumu’s touch only gets more demanding as his twin picks up the pace.

“Shhh, shhh, Samu likes ya so~ much. It’s just this one time. And then daddy’ll take good care of ya, promise.”

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2023. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[alwaysurvalentine]

scary movie marathon - st fic

Written for Day 27 of @steddie-spooktober prompt: scary movies - wc: 1.6k - cw: some cussing

enjoy! 💛

Steve’s idea of a great date night? Scary movie marathon. If you pick the right movies, your date will hide their face in your shoulder and you have an excuse to hold onto them for the duration. If you’re lucky, you might even get them in your lap where you can provide some distraction.

At least, this is how things typically worked when Steve went on dates with the girls of Hawkins High. He should’ve expected that, like most things with Eddie, that wouldn’t be the case with the other boy. When he’d first suggested the movie night, Eddie had assumed it was a group thing and started talking to Robin about what movies she was going to bring. Luckily, Robin can read Steve’s mind, and also his rapid signaling behind Eddie, so she made up an excuse on why she was busy that night. Eddie had shrugged and turned to Steve with a smirk that sent butterflies straight to Steve’s stomach. 

~

The night had come faster than Steve expected and he eyed the movies in his front seat warily when he pulled up to Eddie’s trailer. He knew the other boy would probably like anything they watched, a huge fan of any and all horror no matter how bad. But Eddie also had a habit about seeing Steve more than other people. What if he realized something about him that Steve didn’t mean to reveal? What if he thought the movies he chose were dumb? Or too mainstream to be considered bad enough to loop back to good? This was a terrible idea. Steve’s hand rested on his gear shift, ready to put it in reverse and call Eddie with a fake illness cover story when the boy in question stepped out of the trailer and waved. 

Steve had just gotten used to the black jeans and leather jacket Eddie normally wore, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the cropped Black Sabbath shirt displaying the underneath of Eddie’s chest all the way to his navel. The sunset painted the scars adorning his stomach into a soft pink, like a gentle swoop of a paint brush. Steve’s own matching scars never looked so soft, instead red and angry any time he caught a glance of them in the mirror. Eddie’s grin sharpened as he approached Steve’s car, brown eyes alight with something when he cracked open Steve’s door.

“Cat got your tongue there, Stevie?” 

If blinks were audible, Steve knows his would’ve been deafening. “Whatever Eddie, hope you’re ready to be scared.” He didn’t dare to look at Eddie when he grabbed the movies, scared the older boy would know what he was thinking. 

“Ha! Me, scared? I’m a connoisseur of horror, a weaver of terrible tales, it takes a lot to scare the likes of me!” A cartoonish evil laugh erupted from Eddie as he walked forward, sliding his slippers off at the front door. The trailer felt just as welcoming as it had done all the times before, but now there were orange string lights covering the wall behind the TV and it smelled distinctly of popcorn.

In seemed in the time it had taken Steve to go home and change, Eddie had set up a full array of snacks for them. Popcorn in one bowl, M&Ms in another, even a bag of red vines sat to the side. “I, uh, wasn’t sure what you’d want to drink. We have coke and beer.” Eddie cringes at his words, though Steve can’t imagine why, and he’s already heading to the kitchen.

“I’ll just have what you’re having.” The fridge door opens and Steve sets his movies on the table, eyes catching on the starting menu for The Fly. Eddie comes back with two opened beers, passing Steve’s over by the neck before taking a quick swig of his own. 

“Okay, so we’re starting with one of the best horror movies ever.” 

~

“What the fuck?! Eddie, what the fuck?” Steve can’t look at the screen anymore, the transformation from man to fly sending his stomach into a riot. He’s tucked his face behind his hands and leaned towards Eddie like that’ll save him from the screen. Which is when he notices Eddie’s got an arm around his shoulders and he can feel him laughing against him. How did he not realize Eddie using his own moves against him?

“I know. It’s fucked up isn’t it? And the special effects are so good!” Eddie almost sounds excited, which would be nice if Steve couldn’t hear the sound of Jeff Goldblum’s character losing the last of his humanity. He gags and covers his ears instead, leaning fully into Eddie and turning his head towards the cologne he can smell on Eddie’s neck instead of the screen. 

“It’s disgusting is what it is.” Steve’s breath ghosts over Eddie’s collarbone and he swears he can see the moment Eddie’s heart starts beating faster. Interesting. He’s hopeful so Steve leans closer and feels Eddie’s arm tighten incrementally around him. 

“Steve?” He nods against the metalhead’s neck, newly focused on figuring out just what the older boy smells like under the cigarette smoke that follows him around. “Can I say something crazy?” Eddie’s tense as he talks, arm slipping from Steve’s shoulders so he can reach for the remote. “I mean, maybe it’s not crazy compared to you know, the entire Upside Down and like the last four years of your life. But it’s a big deal to me. Robin said you were fine with her, and clearly you are because she’s like your whole soulmate. Platonic, I know.” 

All of the air is stuck in Steve’s lungs, making his chest tight and he’s just waiting for the pit in his stomach to swallow him whole. He’s opened his mouth to speak a couple of times but nothing is coming out – Eddie’s drowning in a sea of insecurities and he’s doing nothing to help. 

“Okay. I’m just going to spit it out. I’m gay and I have the biggest crush on you.” 

I have the biggest crush on you.

Steve can breathe again. His cheeks are hot and he knows if he looked in a mirror they’d be bright pink. 

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s quiet enough in the trailer that Steve can hear when Eddie chokes on his inhale. 

“..what?” Eddie’s shoulders aren’t tense anymore, and he tilts his head at Steve with furrowed brows. He almost looks like a puppy. 

“Sorry, yeah, totally cool with the gay thing. Even more on board with the crush thing, so can I kiss you?” 

Eddie’s still just looking at Steve with wide, brown eyes. 

Alright, that’s fine, Steve can close the distance. Steve leans forward slowly and brushes the curls away from Eddie’s face, watches his eyes go wide with wonder before leaning in. Their noses bump when their lips first meet but then Eddie tilts his head and Steve’s world with it. Eddie’s hands come up to cup Steve’s jaw, cold rings sending sparks along his face and Steve smiles into the kiss. They part for a moment, matching grins on their faces. After a beat, Eddie leans in again and Steve shifts closer on the couch. 

As soon as he starts shifting, Eddie’s hands start tugging him closer until Steve’s straddling the older boy’s black jean clad lap. Steve boxes him in easily, resting slightly on Eddie’s lap to change the angle again. Eddie nips at his lip, gaining full access to his mouth when Steve gasps at the sensation. The sounds of the movie have completely faded now, Steve more focused on the soft smacking of their lips when they disconnect and meet again. 

The need for air causes them to part, but Eddie doesn’t go far, tucking his face into Steve’s neck. If it wasn’t for how warm Steve was already feeling, he might’ve been able to feel the warmth from the blush on Eddie’s face. Instead he feels Eddie’s lips against his skin as the metalhead murmurs. “Holy shit. Holy shit. Am I dreaming right now?”

“Not a dream, baby. If it wasn’t obvious, I have a huge crush on you too.”

Eddie leans more into Steve’s neck, placing a kiss at his pulse point. A couple more kisses are placed on Steve’s neck and he feels himself melt into Eddie’s lap. He feels Eddie’s hands clench slightly at the movement and then they slip under his shirt, fingertips pressing gently at Steve’s lower back and hips. A gasp escapes him when Eddie nibbles at his neck, teeth pulling at the skin in a way that Steve knows will leave a mark. 

For a moment he imagines the older boy leaving different marks on him and lending him his signature leather jacket for everyone knows who Steve belongs to. But Steve’s getting ahead of himself, this is only their first kiss. There’s no guarantee that Eddie wants this to be a serious thing. 

“Sweetheart?” When Steve glances down, Eddie’s pupils are still blown slightly even though his eyebrows are scrunched in confusion. “Did you hear me?” He must see his answer in Steve’s eyes because the confusion leaves and Steve’s looking at the softest expression he thinks he’s ever seen. 

“I asked if you wanted to be my boyfriend?” There’s an edge to Eddie’s voice and his hands tighten for a moment before loosening again. As though he’s worried about Steve’s answer, like Steve’s not already on the precipice of falling in love with he boy in front of him.

“Only if you let me take you on an official date.” All of the tension leaves Eddie and he grins, leaning up towards Steve again.

“I think I can agree with that.” 

And what else is Steve supposed to do but lean in for another kiss?

[bluecollarmcandtf]

M O O N L I G H T ™

Chapter II

On my last sweep of the house, I check each pledge before the party. Moonlight™ is now partnered with Greek life on campus, and it's the perfect tool for hazing. As president, the app recognizes me as their manager, so I alone get to boss the mind controlled idiots around!

"Pledge!" I snap.

"Yes, brother, sir!" he barks back, yelling it loud and clear without any reservations.

I forget what his name is; Jason, maybe? As long as he's being puppetted around by the Moonlight™ app, it doesn't matter. He'll answer to anything I call him with a rigid smile and a purple stare. He might technically be asleep, but honestly I prefer underclassmen this way. They're much less annoying.

"Scrub these toilets good!" I sneer enjoying the way he hangs on my every word, "You're the janitor for Delt-Ep-Phi's party tonight! I don't want to see any shit or puke unless you're mopping it up! Got it?"

"Yes, brother, sir!"

Just like that, my obedient janitor agrees to my orders and resumes mopping like his life depends on it. At the very least, Moonlight™ has made these pledges more effective. It would have been impossible to force menial work on a freshman without getting a half-assed result. Too many of the guys at this school are rich kids from prep schools: the kind that would be mortified to be near a mop, let alone clad in some sticky maintenance uniform. I bet Jacob, or whatever the fuck his name is, would be mortified to find out that this thing hasn't been washed in years. We just keep throwing it in the closet for the next pledge we have moonlight as janitor. The only thing that makes the dank BO of the garb bearable is the accompanying scent of cleaning chemicals.

I ignore the smell and give the guy a slap on the neck, leaving him to mop the bathroom in silence. My next stop is the kitchen, where I check on my younger cousin Tristan. Tonight, he's just the dishwasher.

"Sup, dude," I say, "Grab me a beer."

"Yes, brother, sir!" he yells back like an army cadet, obediently fetching a bottle from the fridge and opening it for me.

"How's dish-duty?"

"It's amazing! I love being the dishwasher, brother, sir!" my cousin beams.

It's weird to see him like this; with glowing eyes and forced grin. The Tristan I know is charming and unbothered, normally gliding through conversation with subtle looks and gestures. He's normally got this cool style that wins over girls and intimidates guys, so it doesn't help that he's all dressed up in the frat's old dish-boy uniform. I really hate that an upperclassman wrote on his forehead. That'll make classes next week a bit awkward. I suppose it's just a normal part of hazing, and I'm not going to make an exception just because he's my family.

"You gonna be a good dishwasher for the party tonight?" I probe, taking a sip of beer.

"Yes, brother, sir!" he declares, "I'll be ready at the sink for anything that needs cleaned, and I'll be ready to refill any of my brother's drinks."

"That's right, and remember only brothers can get a refill. Girls have to ask one of us to get it from you," I make sure to clarify. It makes it a lot easier to pick up girls when they have to approach us for their next drink. If only I could use Moonlight™ on them to put them to work as the frat's strippers or something. That'd really be getting the most out of the app!

Heavy bass blares from the other room: the party's getting started. I've already spent too much time with Tristan, so I say bye to my cousin and head on out to the main area.

Standing by the door is our coat rack: his name's Kyle, and he's much better as furniture.

"Your arms tired yet, Kyle?" I sneer.

"No, brother, sir!" he grins back.

I laugh a bit when I notice someone wrote a 'kick me' message, pointing at his crotch. A guy like Kyle could definitely use a good kick in the nuts. The freshman came to our call-out with an insanely high opinion of himself. He seemed to think he had every right to get in because he was a legacy. Apparently, his dad is rich alumni so we couldn't refuse him, but that didn't make him immune to our new hazing ritual via Moonlight™. He definitely got the worst job in the house. He might not be scrubbing toilets or cleaning dishes, but his arms are sure to be sore as fuck by morning; not to mention all the kicks in the groin he's guaranteed to get!

"Are you gonna hold those coats, pledge?" I snarl in his face, getting only a cold smile in return.

"Yes, brother, sir!"

"And why is that?" I spit menacingly.

"Because I'm a coat rack, brother, sir!"

"That's right, and coat racks don't react when they get a kick in the balls, right?"

"No, brother, sir!"

With a chuckle, I swing my foot into his crotch. Kyle jerks, but his lips remain stretched across his face in a toothy grin. His body can't help but flinch at the sudden pain, but it only takes a second for Moonlight™ to reassert control. Barely a few seconds have passed and he's back, stiffly holding his arms out, sweating from the effort of being completely still.

"Thank you, brother, sir!" he manages to say. I guess one of the upperclassmen told Kyle to thank anyone who gives him a kick. That'll be a fun little party trick!

I give the guy a little slap on the face before I leave. Tonight's party is gonna be off the hook! I've still got some time before it starts, maybe I can catch a minute to relax in my room. It's not that late yet, but I'm starting to feel the effects of a long day. I'd love to just lay down, even just for a second.

Unfortunately, I fall asleep...

The next day, I wake up when my phone dings with a notification from the frat group chat...

"What the fuck!" I jump out of bed, "What is this picture?"

Though I don't want it to be true, the picture appears to be me. I'm dressed up like some stupid waiter, with the same cringe smile and glowing eyes as any the other Moonlight™ employee, but that can't be right. We only use the app on pledges! There's no way in hell any of my brothers would sign me up like this!

I rack my brain for any memory of last night's party, trying to recall any clue that'll tell me this picture is a lie. The endeavor only hurts my head, but I do notice that I feel unusually sweaty for having just gotten an entire night's rest. My arm feels sore, and my pajamas feel awkward like I was drunk pulling them on.

"Dude, you were a great manservant last night!" one text reads.

"Totally think you should quit that finance degree and be a full-time butler!"

"I could get used to you fetching us drinks and giving us foot rubs!" another adds, "We should have done this years ago!"

I stare at the texts in horror and step into my bathroom. Sure enough, I see the word 'buttler' written across my forehead in sharpie. Someone must have thought it was hilarious to draw a stupid goatee on my face as well. My eye twitches as I stare at my reflection, rage boiling up inside of me.

"Why the fuck did you do that to me!" I text back, "I'm the fucking president!" Even through the phone, my words drip with malice.

"Don't dish out what you can't take!" one replies simply, "Just a prank, bro!"

I try to slow my breaths, but my fists are clenched painfully tight. I'm gonna beat whoever's idea this was! It's one thing for us to use Moonlight™ on freshmen, but I'm a senior and I refuse to spend my last year in this frat moonlighting as a butler! I'm supposed to be getting drunk and laid at these parties! Not marching around with a bowtie and silver tray, serving drinks and whatever the fuck else!

"I wouldn't get yourself too worked up, dude," a guy texts, "You might be in control now that your awake, but remember you're at our whim the second you fall asleep. I could have you scrubbing the floor with your toothbrush tonight if you don't behave yourself. Lol."

The message makes me see red, but he's right. An overwhelming sense of helplessness falls over me. I could beat those fuckers up now, but what would that make them do later? They already wrote on my face with permanent ink! What if they made me shave my head or get a tattoo! Fuck!

This can't be legal, but honestly, I have no idea what the contract stated when we signed up for the app! How do I even go about cancelling this Moonlight™ job? The tech is so convoluted and hard to use!

In the meantime, I'll be lucky if all they make me do is serve them their drinks and do their chores. I guess I can live with that for a short while.

With a grimace of resignation, I text back, "Good one, guys."

[murdrdocs]

house calls

description. your mechanic, JAKE SERESIN, was nice enough to do a house call for you, but he still charges you double even if you don't have the money. luckily, he takes other forms of payment!

includes. SMUT 18+ MDNI, cnc roleplay, mechanic!jake, other forms of payment role play, consensual coercion, unprotected pnv, everything consensual!

wc. 1.8k+

a/n: this was a request ... supposed to have been like 500 words (blinks). ao3 link

"I didn't think mechanics took house calls."

It takes him a second to respond to you. At first, you didn't think he even heard you. You think your line was wasted, and you were about to add onto it until he grunts and lifts his head from under the hood of your car. 

"Usually we don't. But for a client as loyal as you..." He doesn't finish his sentence verbally, instead sending you a smirk, adjusting the towel over his shoulder, and then ducking his head back under. 

You watch him work, standing near the edge of your garage, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed. From where you stand you have a perfect view of him, watching the way his back muscles strain against the tainted white fabric of his tee shirt as he works on your car. His shirt lifts every so often, exposing the smallest line of his boxers and a bit of his back. 

"You know you don't have to hover, right?" He speaks into your engine, but you can still hear him well. "I'll take good care of her."

You believe him, you know you can trust him, but you still decide to stay with him. Mostly so you have an excuse to ogle, but you pretend it’s because you’re worried about the state of your car. 

“How’d it get this bad in the first place?” He asks you. 

You shrug. “I kept forgetting to put it in the shop.” I wanted to watch you fix it for me is what you don’t tell him. 

You offer him a drink at one point, giddily bouncing over to the garage fridge and pulling out a bottle of beer for him. You get the feeling that he knows what he's doing when he pops the cap off on his belt buckle. 

You really think he's putting on when he lets a droplet of beer glide down his chin, running down the tanned skin of his neck before finally being barricaded by the collar of his shirt. 

Not that you mind, though. 

He finishes off on your car in no time, letting the hood drop as he explains what he fixed. You just smile and nod, trusting that the problem is solved and you won't have to deal with it again. You're just about to go inside to grab your wallet, the cash to cover it stuffed in there, but then he turns to face you with his hands on your hips. 

"Now since it was a house call, it's gonna cost you extra. That alright?" 

You blink up at him, trying to ignore the sparkle in his eyes as he watches your expression. 

“How much extra?” 

He winces, as if his response will cost him pain. “Double.”

You take a breath, calming yourself. "... I don't have double. I thought we already agreed on a price?" 

He tuts. “That was before I had to drive all the way out here for you, sugar. Now it's double." 

You step closer to him, getting the first whiff of his scent—strong and masculine, a musk that blends well with whatever he's wearing, whether it be cologne or body wash. 

"But Jake, I don't have double. I only have what we agreed on. And I have bills to pay, I don't get paid until next week. I can get it to you then?" You're trying to plead, but even as you say it you don't sound convincing. You're a shit haggler, you can't even convince yourself. 

"'m sorry, sweetheart," the pet name drips with sweetness and faux sincerity, "But you're gonna have to pay me now or..."

He trails off and your eyebrows lift. "Or?" 

"Or I'll have my buddies come and tow this beauty," he jerks his head towards your car. "It's just policy." He has the audacity to lift his hands in a surrender, as if the change in price isn't all his fault. 

You take a second, trying not to let your distress show as you mull over your option. 

"Or—" Jake begins again, taking a final step closer until there's just an inch between you both. An inch between your clean shirt and his dirtied one. An inch between the hard planes of his chest and the soft planes of yours. 

You lift your eyebrows expectantly, waiting for what the suggestion to get you out of deep shit would be. 

"I can accept another form of payment." 

He takes your hand in his as he says it, trailing it down his chest until it rests over his belt buckle. 

You stare down at your hand, looking at the way your manicure shines along with the bronze coloring of his belt buckle. It says something, has a depiction of a man on a horse sandwiched between two lines of text. Without even needing to read it, you know which belt buckle it is. You've seen it many times before. 

“I don’t usually offer this deal to just anyone,” he says, as if you should feel special. Really, you’re just confused. Well, you know what he wants, but you refuse to believe it. 

"I … I don't—" 

Jake doesn’t buy it. "You do. You know what I'm askin' for." His accent slips out more and more. 

He reaches out, wrapping a hand around your hip, pulling you flush against him. "C'mon, I see the way you've been looking at me. I know you want it." 

You shake your head, staring up at him with your eyebrows pinched together and your lips parted. "I can't." He lifts his eyebrows, waiting for some sort of bullshit excuse. 

You give him one. "I have a boyfriend and he'll be home any moment."

He fucking laughs, right in your face, big and boisterous as he lowers his head, lips searching for yours. "We both know that's not true. If it were true, he would be a shit boyfriend. Can't even repair your car for you—" he sucks in air through his teeth, "you would deserve better, don't you think?"

The irony. 

You wrestle out of Jake's grasp, turning around and starting for the garage door. You don't get far before Jake pulls you back, his hips pressing into you, the boner prominent beneath his working jeans. He walks you towards the car, his left leg pushing against yours and the same with his right, until your thighs hit the front end.

"What d'you say, sweetheart? You gonna pay off your debt, or do I need to call the boys?"

You would try to call his bluff, but you’re scared. Scared that he’s telling the truth and not giving in will backfire on you. With the way he’s pressing his erection into your ass, do you even have a choice?

Of course you end up paying off your debt. Even the threat of having your precious car towed (and the excitement of it all) had you already inching your mini dress up your thighs. 

Jake barely had any patience to wait for you to close the garage door, shielding you from any stray passersby. He waited by your car, watching your every move through lidded eyes, his arms crossed over his chest and his hip cocked into the front end of your vehicle. And as soon as you were back, he had you turn around and bend over the car, your panties pulled down and pooled around your ankles, your dress lifted over your ass. 

He didn’t waste any time before sheathing himself completely into you. He sighed when he bottomed out, a deep groan melding well with your whimper. The moment he took to himself, one where he breathlessly laughed and complimented your grip on his cock, he let you adjust. 

You didn’t need long. 

Sounds of him fucking you quickly filled the garage. The clapping of your skin meeting, the shlick! of your cunt screaming as it got pounded, your breaths and moans. 

It feels so impersonal like this, getting fucked from the back on top of your car with the faint smell of chemicals in the air. But you like it like this. 

You like it when Jake wonders aloud if any of the neighbors can hear you. You like it when he suggests making "house calls" more often, especially if "coming all this way to fix your car" ends up with you spreading your pretty pussy for him. 

He brings his hand down and slaps your ass before lifting the fabric of your dress, using his free hand to pull one of your ass cheeks apart. 

"Jesus, look at that," he marvels, “Really working for it, aren't ya, sweetheart? Making it worth my while." He stops moving his hips, letting you do all of the work. You press your hands into the metal beneath you, gaining more leverage to fuck yourself back onto him. 

"I'll tell you what, this 's better than money, that's for sure.”

You agree, but you're so focused on fucking Jake that you refuse to use any attention for verbally responses, hoping a nod will suffice. 

It's fine, Jake talks enough for the both of you. 

“You’re leaking all around me. Making a mess of my jeans. What, you’re leaving your mark on me? Marking your spot?” His hand lays against your back, sliding up until he grips your neck from the back. “Don’t worry, I’ll reserve this for you. Best pussy I’ve ever had, I’ll tell you that for free. Turn around for me, sweetheart, I wanna see that pretty face.” 

You don’t hesitate to follow his orders, ending up with your back pressed into the car and your legs wrapped around Jake's waist. 

If y'all weren’t both nearing the edge, the position would be impractical, but it barely takes anything before you’re squeezing around Jake. 

He watches it happen, green eyes trained completely on watching your face morph into a depiction of pleasure as your back arches and you reach for him. He gives you whatever you can reach, letting you fist the fabric of his tee as your ankles hook behind his back. 

Having to shallow fuck you doesn’t deter Jake at all. He simply jackrabbits into you, pushing you through your orgasm while chasing his own. When it happens, he lets your insistent hand tug on his hair. His head rests against your tits spilling out over the neckline of your dress, his cock twitching inside of you as his hips weakly drive into yours with the final few thrusts. 

There's a routine at the end. Jake doesn’t speak until you do. He spends the silence cleaning you up, taking his shirt off and using the cleanest part of it to wipe away the cum from between your thighs. He realigns your dress after pulling your panties up, hands rubbing your arms as he kisses your forehead. 

“Is my car actually fixed?” you eventually ask him. 

Jake hums, pulling you into a hug and resting his chin on your forehead. “Sure is. Don’t let it get that bad again.” 

[frannyzooey]

In The Dark: One Shot

Series Masterlist

Ezra x m!reader

Rating: E (filth and yearning, my friends)

Summary: Six weeks after Birdie has left, a glimpse into how Ezra tries to forget.

A/N: all the thanks to my bestie in crime, @the-scandalorian who said “when will this freak be in MY sheets” and she was so real for that ❤️

--

It’s been over a month, and the wound is still raw. 

He’s tried to keep busy in so many ways: driving further for deliveries, taking on harder jobs that tire him out, seeking out his friends for a few drinks or a movie or dinner. Anything to keep him from reaching for his phone to text you or call you. 

Distractions, which is what he needs tonight. 

The itch to grab his phone is strong, so he grabs his keys instead. Stuffs his wallet in his back pocket, some condoms in the front. Steps out into the dusk and with a quick, restless stride, makes his way towards the nearest station. The train is crowded, not unusual for a Friday night and so are the streets when he gets off: streams of pairs, of groups, of single people like him all headed their way somewhere. 

A thought pops into his mind, the way you used to wonder aloud where everyone was going. You used to watch them from your window, the steam from the tea clutched in your hands curling into the air, and for a brief, painful moment, he sees it. Your profile, your cheeks stretched with a grin, your hand patting the cushion next to you, beckoning him closer. In nothing but a tank top and your underwear, you’re a vision – a literal one that he shakes free as he opens the door to the bar.

It’s loud, but that’s good. 

It doesn’t take him long to find someone. He’s never one to be shy about looking at someone with blatant want, and it takes only a few minutes before the man approaches him. It’s only been men since you left. He can’t bear the touch of another woman, with all their softness and sweetness and curves. He needs a hardness that matches his own: rough kisses, harsh grips. 

Ezra orders the man a beer to match the one he’s finishing off, and they talk for a while, leaning on the bar. He’s a drummer in a band, here to see his friend play. He’s got intricate tattoos that run the length of his arms, molding to the sinewy muscles. He’s got eyes so rich with depth that Ezra finds himself drawn in the longer they talk, empty bottles being replaced with fresh, full ones. 

He’s not you, and that’s perfect. 

A bundle of cash is thrown down on the countertop, and Ezra follows the man out of the bar, letting him guide him back to his place, just around the corner. The apartment is sparse in the way men’s often are. A couch, a coffee table, a couple of pieces of art on otherwise bare walls. Not as many books as Ezra would like to see, but that’s okay. He’s not here for intellectually stimulating conversation. 

He’s here to fuck. 

He’s here to forget the fact that he would rather be in someone else’s apartment, surrounded by their stacks of books, among other things that made it feel so cozy and lived in. So warm, just like the cloud of your bed, or the cradle of your thighs or – 

“You want a drink?” the man offers, standing next to his open fridge. 

Ezra shakes his head, coming closer. He reaches out, gently pushing the door shut. 

“No,” he replies. “Just you.”

—

The man’s bed is nothing like yours, but that’s okay. 

The sheets aren’t as soft and it doesn’t smell as sweet, but it does have a willing body with a tight hole and that’s all that matters right now. Something to turn his brain off for the night, to numb the deep ache that’s settled between his ribs. 

He aches now, but in a different way. A sweet, heavy ache deep in his balls as he tries not to come in the tight, wet fist of this man’s ass. The stranger is on his hands and knees, his back arched to take every one of Ezra’s rough thrusts, rocking back to meet every snap of his hips. His groans are deep and loud, his hands clenched in the plain sheets stretched over his mattress and Ezra runs a hand down his spine, his fingers splayed over his lower back. 

Tattoos extend all the way up to his shoulders and wrap around his ribcage. His body is gorgeous – all lean muscles and smooth skin; Ezra’s touch fits between his ribs along his sides as he bends forward to tug the man up. 

The stranger molds his back to Ezra’s front, and Ezra keeps a hand cradled at the base of his throat and fucks him harder, letting out his low, labored grunts into the nape of his sweat damp neck. His body is hard against Ezra’s, nothing like yours. When Ezra’s arm wraps around his front, he feels firm, flat planes instead of lush, weighted breasts. When his hand smoothes down the man’s torso, he feels a flat belly covered in scattered hair instead of plush, rounded softness. When Ezra’s hand dips lower, it wraps around a thick, stiff cock instead of finding a seam of wet, slick warmth. 

The man’s hand joins Ezra’s, the two of them pumping his cock in time with the beat of Ezra’s hips. Ezra wants something slicker, something to make the drag better, and he lets go, bringing his hand up to the man’s mouth. The man opens, sucking Ezra’s fingers in down to the knuckle, and they groan together, Ezra’s cock jerking inside. Ezra can feel the vibration of his hum around the thick digits and pulls them out of his mouth, bringing them back down to the man’s cock. 

“Fuck,” he groans when Ezra wraps him with a firm, slick hold, jerking him root to tip. He adds a slight twist to the motion, something he loves to do to himself, and when the man’s broad frames melt against Ezra’s, he grins. He pumps his fist faster, feeling the man clench around his cock, and when the man’s groans start to get louder, Ezra’s pace picks up. 

Sweat beads along his neck, and Ezra licks it up with a flat lave of his tongue. “It feels good, doesn’t it?” Ezra croons in his ear. 

When the man doesn’t answer, Ezra scrapes his teeth along the corded muscle, biting down. 

“Yes! Yes, fuck yes, it feels good. Jesus Christ. Fuck me.” 

The man is near babbling, his cock thickening in Ezra’s hold, beads of pre-come leaking steadily from the thick, rounded tip and Ezra swipes through the pearly mess, bringing his hand to his mouth. He sucks the sticky slick off the pad of his fingers, and lets out a lewd, deep groan into the man’s ear. The man whimpers, letting his head tip back against Ezra’s shoulder. 

Ezra’s got him cradled on his lap, his hand back on the man’s cock to finish him off, and when he starts to come with a shout and a steady stream of thick cum seeping through Ezra’s fingers, he digs his fingers into Ezra’s thighs, forcing himself down on Ezra’s lap to bury him as deep as he’ll get. 

Ezra’s chest is heaving, his body aching with the need to come, every muscle strung as tight as the hold he has on the man’s hair. He’s rough with him: pushing him forward on his hands and knees, digging into his hips with a harsh grip, pounding into the curve of his ass hard enough to bruise. His fingers dig into the crown of the man’s hair with a tug, and Ezra closes his eyes, teetering on the edge of his own release. 

The curve of your plush ass, the dig of your tiny fingers, the weight of your smaller frame enveloped by his. Your softer moans, the scent of your shampoo and your skin and the touch of your hair when he buries his face in it and the slick, tight warmth of your cunt or your ass as his hips jerk upwards – 

And then he comes, burying himself deep. 

He drops forward, catching his breath for a moment, resting his hands on the bed as his cheek rests on the man’s shoulder, and when he eases himself out, he feels slightly smug at the hiss he hears him let out.

“That was…a lot. Fuck, man,” the stranger laughs, breathless and sated. He drops down onto the bed, splaying out. His fingers dance along his tattooed stomach while he watches appreciatively as Ezra stands, tugging the condom off and knotting it. 

“The bathroom is over there.” The man waves his hand in the direction of the hallway.

In the tiny room, Ezra washes his hands and stares at himself in the mirror. He looks tired, even with his cheeks flushed with heat. 

His balls are empty, but so is everything else. 

He doesn’t stay long after that. A quick press to the man’s lips at his front door, a half-hearted promise to see him again sometime. He knows he probably won’t. 

He feels tired on his walk back home, his limbs drained of their restless energy, which is what he wanted – so he isn’t sure why he feels so..unsatisfied. Like he didn’t just fuck someone until they both finished. He wonders briefly if you’ve fucked anyone since you’ve been gone, and he immediately rebels against the thought…even though he knows he doesn’t have any right to. 

He just did, didn’t he? 

He wonders if you miss him like he misses you. If your world is tinted in Ezra-colored glasses like his is tinted in yours. If you also lay awake at night, staring at your face-down phone on your night stand, willing it to light with a text. 

He said he would give you time and space and he meant that. Christ, he did. He wouldn’t even be mad if you went out and had fun and fucked someone because that’s what he wants for you – to be young, to embrace this opportunity, to have those experiences. 

He just wishes it was still with him. 

Letting himself in the front door, he heads straight for the shower. Stripping his clothes, he stands under the steaming pressure, dropping his head between his shoulders. He lets the steady stream beat down on his back, washing the sweat of someone else off his skin. 

He sees a flash of your open mouth moaning in pleasure, your skin sliding against the shower tiles, and frustrated, he slams the water off. His cock comes to life, half hard between his thighs, and he ignores it, toweling off. 

Pulling on sweats, he should be tired enough to sleep after a fuck like that, but he heads in the direction of the living room instead, grabbing a beer on the way there. Slumping into the couch, he clicks the TV on. He pulls up his phone, swiping open the weather app. 

LONDON: 46F / 7C, 3AM 

The bright light of the TV illuminates his profile, and he sighs, setting the phone down. 

Are you in your bed? In someone else’s?

Hoping you’re safe, he slouches into the cushions and settles in for a sleepless night.

[jiminiecrickets]

LOVE'S LITTLE DAGGER: PART II. KTH / M!READER

summary. taehyung still hates you. he does. but you make him feel deeper things, and it's not just because you're buried up in his lungs.

wc. 4.8k

tags. smut | sub bottom!tae, dom top!reader, playboy tae, jealousy, mention of fwb!jimin, reader cockblocks tae once lol, alcohol mention, unprotected sex, 69, degradation: whore, slut (tae receiving), brat taming, rimming + ass eating, overstimulation + multiple orgasms, one mention of "daddy" (r. receiving)

[ part one ] [ requested ]

on the evening before the ultimate freeze of the universe, where even doomsday preppers have little power in a crumbled society, kim taehyung would remain a massive fucking dick.

this, like the inevitable heat death of everything everywhere all at once, remains a steadfast fact. his natural charisma – which you can't deny – would make him a leader in this hypothetical end-of-times, and you'd bet real money that he'd manage to swindle someone with a bunker out of it. then, of course, he'd kick them all out to feel existence die on their skin and hold his nintendo switch above his face as he lounges on a mattress.

welcome... to the check-in counter for your deserted island getaway package!

"taehyung! did you finish the milk again?"

"hm," he mumbles noncommittedly. he tucks his feet up against the couch armrest, squinting up at his switch.

you close the fridge with a huff and roll your eyes, disappearing into your bedroom. when you return, you're wearing a jacket, your phone and wallet clutched in one hand as you hop into a pair of shoes. you bee-line towards the couch and snatch his game away, turning it off and setting it on the coffee table next to him. he groans, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"stop complaining. you have class in two hours and you're wearing nothing but your underwear. i'm helping."

he scowls. "i'm not going today. i would be fine if someone didn't fuck me into next sunday!" he hears you walking away, and he raises his voice. "i hate you so much!"

"just put a shirt on," you call, one foot propping open the front door as you pat your pockets for everything you need. "you better be clothed by the time i return. you don't want to be running when you're sore, do you?"

"i hate you!"

"mhm, be back in fifteen."

the door swings shut with a click and he scoffs, glancing at the blinking screen of his game. he folds his arms over his chest and stretches his legs out, smoothing out his black briefs, and pouts to himself.

what a jerk. so callous. fine – if you were going to ignore everything that happened the night before, so would he. and, because he's very good at everything he does, he's going to beat you at it! he's going to ignore you so well and forget all about how you made him feel and find another guy who's willing to take him to bed. given his looks, he doubts he'll have to go far.

game on.

—

there's a boy on your lap. he's pretty – real pretty, with plump glossy lips and long sugar-brown hair styled in soft waves back from his forehead. he's playful, grinding and swaying his hips over your lap while his friends cheer him on. some of the guys from the beer pong table have stopped to watch.

taehyung simmers hotly in the corner of the room, scowling into his red cup. he nurses his drink, which is slowly fizzling flat and warm – he'd snooped around in the mini-fridge of the upstairs games room and found an unopened bottle of solo, which he promptly cracked open and hoped no one would notice. it feels better to carry around than a cold, wet can of cheap beer.

but god, did he wish he drank something alcoholic. maybe it'd take the sting out of the scene in front of him.

taehyung knows the boy in your lap. he's seen him sleeping peacefully in your bed when he passes by your cracked-open door in the mornings, and rumour has it that he's trying for something more than casual with you. the sight of your hands on his hips, reciprocating his touches, makes his stomach curdle like milk.

but who wouldn't want to be with you? you're smart, and handsome, and you remember people's favourite meals and make it for them when they're having a bad day. a bitter taste fills taehyung's mouth and he can't stand the taste of lemonade any longer.

he tips out the rest of his drink and tosses the cup into the bin, schooling his features into simple, shallow flirtatiousness, leaning against the beer pong table with an arch of his back that shortens his already-cropped jacket and accentuates his ass. he glances aside, meeting the eyes of the blandly-attractive guy currently winning the game, and smirks, bringing his lower lip between his teeth as he turns back to the cups of beer, playing coy.

the guy's mates whisper in his ears, glancing at taehyung with glimmering eyes. he elbows one of them in the stomach at something he says and the guy doubles over with laughter.

taehyung remains pleasantly oblivious to what they're saying and watches the ping pong ball bounce, its tap light and clear through the constant chatter and loud music. he smiles as it bounces neatly into a cup and he slips his fingers around the one closest to him, since the other team look to be in no position to be drinking any more than they already have. half of their team are blacked out on the ground.

a body sidles up to him. "hey."

his fingertip glides around the rim of his cup. his gaze flickers up; he tucks his lower lip between his teeth to hide a smile. "hey, yourself."

by the couch, jimin sits in the bowl of your lap, a fan of cards in his hands. he giggles softly as your arms shift around his waist and your chin rests on his shoulder. he tucks the fan of cards into his chest. "you're not allowed to look, hyung."

"can't i?" you hum into his shoulder. "i thought we were on the same team."

"i can't trust anyone but myself. you're probably double-teaming with jungkook." he inclines his head towards the younger man, who's sprawled upside-down on the couch with his feet hanging over the backrest.

you scoff, hands absently smoothing over his thighs before snaking around him again. "he doesn't need my help. if i were to double-team with anyone, i'd probably go with namjoon-hyung. he'd make sure we'd win. i'd just be his cheerleader. minimum effort to emerge victorious."

jimin hums, lowering his cards. he smells sweet, yet smoky. he tucks his lips into your neck and you feel them curve into a sneaky smile. "i think double-teaming would be fun, baby..."

you chuckle. "of course you would. hey, look sharp – you're still playing this game. it's almost your turn."

when taehyung sees him lean in, whispering against your skin and looking far too cosy for his liking, his stomach churns. he scoffs quietly and glides his fingers down his plaything's bare arm, slim and soft in an elven sort of way – the way rich boys tend to be, having never done a hard day's work in their lives.

he's nothing like you – he's entitled, pretentious, grabbing and pushing his body around as if he owns it. still, taehyung leans into his shoulder, glaring daggers into the side of your head until it tingles down your spine and you glance over.

when you do, he doesn't divert his eyes, doesn't curl his upper lip. he just levels his gaze, lifting another red cup of beer with a pinky raised in a mocking toast, and turns away, dragging his plaything along behind him by the wrist.

he refuses to give him any sort of affection, any pretence of gentleness. all he wants is a body above his and a high, no matter how dry and bland it'll be. anything to take his mind off of the unfamiliar and unwanted twist in his gut.

he finds an empty bedroom quickly – it's almost as if he's developed a sixth sense for them. he sets the cup of untouched alcohol on a chest of drawers and easily rolls into routine with the guy he'd stolen from the beer pong table – shirts off, shoes off, thoughts off.

the guy leans down to kiss him – he turns his head, letting his lips fall on the corner of his mouth instead. taehyung's down to his briefs, laying still on his back as the vaguely-familiar young man above him grinds against his ass, mostly dressed except for his shirt.

at least one of them is excited. he didn't even bother taking off his jeans – just unzipped his fly.

with a creak, the door opens, and yellow hallway light floods the room. taehyung doesn't lift his gaze from the dark corner of the room, examining the branches of a crack in the plain wallpaper.

"hey! what the fuck, man? room's taken, can't you see?"

"get off of him."

"what?"

"i said: get off of him, asshole. he's drunk – can't you see?"

stubbornly, taehyung shuts his eyes as he feels the body on top of him stumble, leaving him entirely. his skin prickles with the chill.

"he literally dragged me here, what's your damn problem? don't you hate this guy? look, man, just leave right now and i'll forget this ever happened, alright?"

"put your clothes on. he's going home."

evidently, he doesn't think taehyung's worth any more arguing, and he mutters as he picks his clothes up off of the floor and shuffles away. he doesn't close the door behind him, so you do it instead. the lock clicks. when you turn back around, you nearly jump out of your skin – taehyung stands upright three feet away, staring silently up at you.

"fucking – don't do that," you scold, taking his arm and sitting him down on the edge of the bed. he watches with furrowed brows as you move across the room, folding his clothes over your arm. you even grab his shoes for him, dropping them by his feet.

"arms out," you instruct, holding out his jacket. you're not going to even attempt his shirt – it has more buckles and straps than you can count and he'd be pissed if you managed to ruin it.

he just stares up at you, utterly confused.

"lift your arms, taehyung," you repeat, gently sliding his hands through the sleeves. he lets you, staring at the side of your face.

"okay. time to get your pants on."

his lips part. "i'm not drunk."

"mhm. stand up."

"no, really," he protests, grabbing your wrists before you can tug him to his feet. "i haven't had a sip tonight."

you glance at him. "you were holding a beer. you looked like you were drinking from it."

"i was just holding it." he shrugs. "i don't like beer – it tastes disgusting."

"oh." you lean back. "so... why'd you let me kick that guy out?"

he smiles wryly. "i wanted to see what'd happen."

"uh-huh. well, i can call him back, if you want."

his hand shoots out to grab your sleeve. "no," he says quickly. "i don't want him."

"no?"

"no." his grip loosens and he glances away, fisting the bedsheets below him. "sorry for scaring you. you can go back to jaemin, or whatever his name is. i'll get home fine on my own."

"jimin," you correct. your brows furrow. "wait... taehyung, are you jealous?"

"fucking no," he snaps, far too quickly.

a grin grows on your features. a glint returns to your eye as you place your hands on your hips. "holy fucking shit. you are. kim fucking taehyung is jealous over me." you bark out a laugh, turning away to amuse yourself with a bunch of skincare pots and tubes on the dresser nearby. "my dick that good, huh?"

his face burns. "shut the fuck up! it was average, at best. having a big cock doesn't mean you know how to use it."

you toss a pot of moisturiser in the air, catching it before placing it back. you saunter over to taehyung, whose arms are crossed over his chest petulantly. you lean down to his level. "and who was the one screaming for more, hm? you really think i believe it when you say i was just some average lay?"

he shoots to his feet and jabs you in the chest. "you were," he snarls. "i was being gracious. your technique's sloppy and it's like you'd never touched a guy before. you're lucky i was so pent-up – that's the only reason i finished at all."

your smirk widens and your gaze flickers over his body. his hair pricks on end with a shiver. you lean in, not quite touching him – as if there's an invisible layer separating you from him, a glass case for the piece of art. your breath is hot against the shell of his ear.

"really? so if i was to, say, start taking off my clothes... you wouldn't be interested?"

his breath hitches. he says nothing.

"is that a no, sweet thing?"

"no," he breathes. "it's not."

you lean back and your lips turn up. his body yearns for your warmth, goosebumps shivering over his skin. "don't worry, taehyung. i didn't expect an answer – you take an awful long time to do things, and it really shows when you're getting second place on the class leaderboard."

his head snaps towards you. he grabs your shirt and yanks you onto the bed, throwing a leg over your lap. his brows are furrowed, his mouth tight. "bringing our scores into this?" he hisses. "low fucking blow, ln. fine – i'll show you slow."

he pushes your shirt up over your stomach, scraping his nails over your hips as he loosens your belt and unzips your fly. you prop yourself onto your elbows to watch with a smirk as he takes you out of your pants, stroking and squeezing with reverence that he tries to hide.

it doesn't work very well. you can see the way he stares at it as it hardens in his palm, his gaze heavy and wanting with a flush to his cheeks. he kisses the tip, suckling on it as he dips his tongue into the slit, and groans softly as he trails his wet tongue down the underside along the veins, fisting it and swiping his thumb over the tip as he takes your balls into his mouth, one at a time.

you curse and tangle your hand in his hair. his mouth is hot and wet, his breath warm as he pants against the base of your cock, staring up at you with smoky eyes and ruby lips. he sucks softly, dragging his tongue along the velvety skin, and closes his eyes as you groan his name. he hums softly in acknowledgement, moving back to your cockhead. he lavishes his attention upon it, lapping at it and sucking gently on just the first few inches – he teases the rest, pumping it and twisting his wrist expertly.

you chuckle as he moans, his hips swaying in the air. you toss off your shirt. "you're enjoying this a little too much. fuckin' whore, getting off to this..."

he moans again, sharper this time. he doesn't even dispute it. he chokes down a few inches of your cock and your head falls back as his tight throat pulses around you.

it's almost funny how quickly he's abandoned the idea of teasing you. no more slow jerks of his wrist, no more kitten licks – he's fucking gulping you down, moaning quietly as saliva drips down his knuckles.

shit. you suck in a breath through your teeth. he's really fucking good at taking you. it's like magic, watching the inches disappear down his warm throat.

he only begins to slow down when he reaches the base of your cock, his fingers pumping it shallowly. his jaw is stretched wide around you, the vibrations of his moans through your cock sinful – his tight throat strokes you, closing around you, and he doesn't seem to care that he's gagging on it, bobbing his head to a quick, steady beat. he thrusts against air.

you lick your lips, finding your voice. when it comes out, it's raspy – hungrier than you want it to be. "fuck, sweetheart – c'mere. wanna taste you, too."

he pops off with a slick sound, panting against your shaft. his lips shine with saliva. he grins, breathless, and shimmies out of his tight briefs – he groans in relief when he frees his cock, wet and throbbing. he clambers on top of you, the air hot and thick – all attempts at smooth seduction are forgotten. he's messy, hungry, and so, so human.

you grin as he arches his back, his knees beside your head. from the way he's holding his hips, you can tell he expects you to give his cock a little love – but you like to subvert expectations, and instead, you grab his slim hips and drag his ass towards your face.

he startles, arching to glance back at you. you grin, eyes glinting, and lick a long stripe over his asshole.

his hips jerk. he moans, turning back to your cock, and kisses the tip with soft warm lips, precum beading at the slit.

you hum, fingers digging into the supple flesh of his ass. two of your fingers slip easily into him – either he's been playing with himself, or his body is still recuperating from your extensive loving the night before. either way, he moans loudly around your cock, rocking his hips down onto your fingers.

"pretty," you muse, watching the way he clenches around your fingers. "arch your back a little more, slut."

he gasps as your tongue laps at his rim. "f-fuck – eat me out properly, damn it! if you're gonna talk big game, you – mngh—!"

you can't reply because you've got your tongue in his ass. you'd smile at the absurdity of it all if you could – the boy you've been butting heads with all year sounds much better crying out for you.

you don't even know why he's being a little jealous baby. he could've just asked – there is no universe in which you'd turn down fucking kim taehyung.

but he's stubborn and a cocky sonovabitch. you can't say that it's not a little cute: angry pretty boys standing their ground, firm in their beliefs until they get so flustered they forget what their next argument is.

and kim taehyung is flustered. he's whining into your thigh, gripping your hip so tightly you think he's drawing blood. he rocks his hips onto your tongue, his ass clenching around it, and buries his hot face into your hip, panting and swearing his pretty little head off as his cock spurts and pulses hotly, overexcited.

arousal curls in your stomach as he drags your cock against his lips, sinking down on it to muffle his own moans. you buck your hips into his mouth and while he gags, he lowers himself further, one shaky hand cupping your balls, and bobs his head desperately, silky lips dragging against the veins of your cock. he swallows you deeper as your cock pulses and twitches against the tight walls of his throat.

you come without warning. serves him right, the attention whore, but he doesn't seem to mind – in fact, he seems to like it, moaning and whining around your cock as he struggles to keep it all in. he fails eventually, hot cum dripping down the corner of his lips as he glides off your cock with a wet kiss. his cock twitches, already wanting more.

you tease him, dragging out his orgasm as he grinds into your face. the warm weight of his body grows as he slumps onto you and you can't be annoyed at the fact that he's only loosely gripping your cock, too busy basking in his own afterglow. his breath is warm and quick against it.

you draw away, shifting under him as you guide him into your lap. he shivers, still a little dazed, but manages to find your hand in the tangle of limbs. he entwines his fingers with yours, his pounding heart fluttering in his chest.

he presses his lips to your neck, pushing you down against the bed – to your surprise, he tugs off your pants and underwear entirely, leaving you just as naked as he.

"was bothering me," he rasps, kissing your cock. he crawls up your body again, hovering over you face-to-face. "eat me out again."

"mh, would love to. just tell me when you wanna." you stroke his sides.

he tilts his head, those dark eyes clearing of their fog. "no, i'm not talking about a few days in the future or whatever. i'm talking now. i want your tongue in me right fucking now, baby – want you to make me come again with that silver tongue of yours." he grazes your lower lip with the pad of his thumb. "i like it better like this than down his throat."

you snicker, flipping your bodies over and hovering over him instead. you've done it in a way where he's on his stomach. "jealous bitch, aren't you?"

"says the one who calls me 'puppy'," he growls, eyes flashing. he leans into the pillows, his eyes challenging, and he spreads his legs, placing one hand high on his ass as he lifts his hips. "now stop yapping and fuck me, ln."

"sir, yes, sir," you tease. he feels your presence drift lower until your hands spread his ass.

at first, he entertains some degree of control, fucking himself back on your tongue as you groan into his skin, pulling his hips closer. he enjoys a second high, untouched, but you've grown curious. how many times can you make the infamous playboy come?

the answer: a lot. you just can't expect him to keep his wits about him after a few.

he's been on his knees for so long that they're beginning to hurt, even on the mattress. the discomfort, however, is far outweighed by your ravenous hunger – he can't stop crying out for you, your tongue and fingers working in tandem to fuck him stupid. you'd even started to pump his cock for him – he'd almost cried, throwing his head back with a whiny babble.

more, more, more. he'd begged for it – he knew this, somewhere at the back of his mind. he'd heard his own voice, usually so strong and steady, reduced to a crumbling whimper, collapsing in on itself as you pumped three fingers in and out of his wet hole, messy with lube and saliva.

you'd never seen him like this before. you never thought he could get like this – teary-eyed, flushed dark pink from head to toe, gaze faraway and hazy, focussed on nothing in particular even when you muse aloud about his latest academic losses. all he does is whine, trembling, and reach back blindly for your cock, groping and grabbing.

he pants over his shoulder. his red hair is coppery where it sticks to his skin, shining with a thin layer of sweat.

"please," he begs, grinding messily against your cock. "p-please, please..."

taehyung is gorgeous when he lets go. when your cock glides in with no resistance, his walls soft and hot around you, his eyes roll back into his skull, and he lets out a soft, thankful sob. his chest heaves as you push in deeper, testing how much he can take, and all he does is grab your hip, nails clawing at it as if he'd die otherwise.

his hole is sloppy with lube. you press your nose to his collarbone, groaning softly as he clamps around you.

his fingers dig into the white bedsheets, his eyes screwed shut as he focuses on remembering how to breathe. your cock grinds against his swollen prostate and he keens – his voice cracks as he whines into the pillows. you hush him, your hips moving quickly.

"daddy," he sobs, and by his tightening sides, you know he's close. his cock leaks like a broken faucet, bobbing between his messy thighs. his eyes roll back and he grips handfuls of the bedsheets. "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—"

he dissolves into a babbling mess. you groan into his shoulder, kissing the freckles smattered across it, and chuckle softly. "what a basic-bitch thing to like, sweetheart. it's almost cute."

he whimpers in response, his body jostling harshly. you grab his hip, forcing him to rock back onto you, and he drawls out a long, broken moan.

"takin' my cock so well, baby," you whisper, feeling his sides tense up at the praise. "like you were made to take it."

"mmh – mhm," he slurs out, spine arching and ass pressing deeper against your hips. he sucks his swollen lower lip between his teeth. he doesn't say anything else for a long time, losing himself in your constant gentle caresses.

despite biting his lower lip in an effort to quieten himself, his mouth soon hangs open, slick lips parted to loose loud, punched moans from deep in his belly. they're cute, quavering. he sounds as if he's about to burst into tears.

"g-gonna..." his fingers twist in the bedsheets, knuckles white. your cock glides in and out of his slick asshole, punching the air out of his lungs on every snap of your hips. he can't fucking breathe; it feels too good. "'m gonna...!"

"not until you make me come," you demand, your voice growing breathier by the second. your thrusts grow heavier, messier, and his voice cracks through a cry. "else i might decide jimin deserves my cock more, slut."

he squeezes his eyes shut, and a tear falls down his cheek from the corner of his eye. he moans as he throws his ass back on your cock, piercing himself again and again and again with the wet smack of skin on skin. when you come with a groan, he loses it – he hiccups past a cry of your name, nails digging painfully into the bedsheets. he comes so hard stars explode behind his eyelids and in his veins.

his body quivers as you fuck him lazily, your breath hot against the shell of his ear as you fill him up. your cock pulses inside him, thick and warm – he trembles, burying his face in the pillows, and lifts himself slightly on weak arms, pushing his back and shoulders against the numbing heat of your body.

with a shaky sigh, he leans back against you and you press your lips against his shoulder, securing his tingling body with one firm, steady hand. his hips jerk, his body still not finished with the aftershocks of his high, and you hush him, caressing his hip. his heart pounds beneath his ribs as if he's sprinted a marathon.

it takes a long time for him to blink awake from his whiteout daze, control returning to his limbs. he hums sleepily into your skin, his head propped up on your chest.

"fucking hell," he whispers wearily. you laugh at the extra rasp in his voice.

"fucking hell indeed," you reply, too tired to move off of the bed. you stroke his shoulder, tracing circles and hearts into his skin. you tuck your other arm under your head with a soft exhale. "can you still 'get home fine on your own'?"

he pauses for a while, trying to scoop enough of his brain into a pile to remember what you're talking about. he sighs, closing his eyes, and buries his face in your chest. "shut the fuck up. i'm not getting up 'til tomorrow. and when i do, you'd better be there to carry me."

"what the fuck – why'm i the one who has to do all the work all the time?"

"i will punch your stupid pretty teeth out if you don't."

you scoff, flicking your wrists up in some half-assed form of surrender. "yeah, yeah..."

he shifts, sliding his leg over yours, and cups your side in one hand. he practically clings to you like a koala. in the warm summer silence, his breaths slow, and his muscles relax. every so often, though, you feel him tense up and shift slightly.

after the first handful of times, you groan, irritated and drowsy. "quit fucking moving, idiot. just go to sleep."

his limbs tighten around you.

"stop worrying, taehyung. i'll be here when you wake up." your voice softens – just a smidge. "promise."

that smidge is all he needs. he rests his cheek against your collarbone and mumbles – something like don't tell me what to do – and squeezes you tighter, adamant on re-establishing his authority in this relationship. he falls dead asleep, though, in just a few minutes, snoring softly as he cuddles into you.

you smile. you'll let him have this win.

[reidingandwriting]

Lover (Steve Harrington’s Version)

Chapter Two: Cruel Summer

“I love you, ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?”

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: Fem!Reader, cursing throughout, drinking, reader and Steve continuing to have Not Great parents (especially reader)

A/N: This fully meant to post yesterday but it never did?? Anyways.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

You don’t know why you decided to go to the party. Well, yes you do. You wanted out of your parents’ house, you wanted to forget. You wanted to be with Steve. Steve, where was he?

“Steve?” Your voice was loud but barely recognizable over the sound of the music playing. You maneuvered through the crowd of drunk high school graduates and you moved your head as if on a swivel, looking for your best friend. In your search, you felt a hand grab your shoulder and instinctively, you stomped your foot and spun around when you heard a familiar voice curse. “Shit, ‘m so sorry!”

“Impressive aim! Would be proud if it wasn’t my foot you just broke.” Steve winced as he shook his foot out and you rolled your eyes.

“Not broken, crybaby.” Steve flicked you in the forehead and you pouted, the corners of your lips twitching as you fought back a smile. “Mm, thirsty.” You grabbed Steve’s hand and walked with him to the kitchen. You had a few drinks already and weren’t entirely sure of your route, not familiar with Kimmy’s house. You eventually made your way to the kitchen and you let out a little cheer as you realized where you were.

“How much have you had to drink?” Steve asked and he watched as you swayed a little bit. He didn’t blame you for wanting to drink the night away, however your tolerance has always been on the lower side. You seemed noticeably more tipsy than you were when he left for the bathroom, and you pulled out two cans of beer from the fridge. You offered one to Steve, who shook his head. “I’ll just steal some of yours when you’re not looking. Someone needs to be able to drive you home tonight.”

“Not even that drunk,” you huffed as you cracked a can open and took a large swig before you winced. “Ugh, I hate beer.”

“Sure have had a lot of it for someone who hates it,” Steve teased and you scowled at him so adorably, he had to ruffle your hair once he walked over to where you stood. “C’mon, let’s get some air for a minute.” Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you quietly followed him, grounded by the warm, comforting touch. Steve led you to the front yard and you sat on the front porch, leaned against him.

“I hate them,” you said after a minute of silence. You had tried to keep your hopes down, you really did. Always expect the worst and you’ll never be disappointed. But it was your graduation. The biggest moment in your life so far and they couldn’t be bothered to show up. Steve hated seeing your face fall when you realized your parents weren’t in the audience of the gymnasium. Even his own parents showed up for once, even if they were late and didn’t stay long before they left.

You had been brave, plastering on a smile when the kids came to congratulate you. You nearly cried when Dustin had given you flowers and Max had shyly given you a teddy bear with a graduation cap. Joyce Byers had surprised you with her attendance and she brought a Polaroid camera, your share of the pictures tucked into your bag that presently resided in Steve’s car.

Steve opened his mouth to respond to you when he noticed the tear sliding down your cheek. He hadn’t seen you cry often, and he felt out of his element. Regardless, he pulled you closer and you clutched his shirt in your hands as you cried, your shoulders shaking. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Steve hoped his voice was soothing, hand pressed to the small of your back.

“Wish we could just run away. Leave Hawkins forever, leave our parents behind.” You hiccuped. “I never want to see them again.”

“Why don’t you stay with me for a while?” Steve offered. “Not like we don’t have the space. You already have half of your things at mine, anyways.” You smiled against Steve’s shoulder, and your hands moved up, fingers twirling the ends of his hair.

“So soft. Such nice hair, Stevie.” Your voice had gone soft, tired and Steve sighed softly. “Can we go home?”

“Absolutely,” Steve said as he untangled the two of you. He stood and you reached up, making grabby hands at him. “As much as I appreciate your belief in how strong I am, I need you to stand up first.” You slowly rose to your feet and Steve scooped you up once you were standing. “Alright, princess. Let’s go home.”

-

“Stevie!” You sang as you walked into Scoops and you laughed at the glare he gave you. “Hey, Robs.” You greeted the girl you had quickly become friends with, Max and El politely greeting Steve and Robin before ordering their own ice cream cones. You watched as they sat at a booth and once they were settled, you leaned against the counter to talk to Steve, appreciating a rare moment of downtime in the ice cream shop. Steve pretended to look busy, wiping at the same spot on the counter as you talked.

“We still on for tonight?” You asked and Steve nodded.

“Of course. You owe me for taking care of your hungover ass after graduation,” Steve teased and you flipped him off with a scoff.

“What are you doing tonight?” Robin asked and you bounced on your toes.

“We’re going to the drive-in, Steve’s been begging me to go see this scary movie that sounds stupid,” you emphasized, barely moving out of the way as Steve snapped the rag out towards you. “And he did deal with my hangover exceptionally well, so I owed him one.” The sound of the girls laughing behind you distracted you and you missed the look Robin gave Steve.

“It’s not stupid! You’re stupid, Stupid,” Steve said and you rolled your eyes.

“Stupid,” you mocked and leaned forward to poke his hat. “Can’t call me stupid wearing your adorable little sailor outfit, kind of ruins the effect.” You wink before you turn to Robin. “Robin, my favorite person ever, can I have a chocolate cone please?” You started to dig in your pocket for the cash to cover yours and the girls ice cream and Steve shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve said and you tilted your head. “Buy our popcorn tonight and we’re even.”

“I’ll even be nice and buy our drinks,” you smile, and the matching smile Steve gives you has your stomach fluttering. You flinched when Robin cleared her throat and you apologized as you took the cone. “I’ll swing by at seven?” You clarified and when Steve nodded, you let out a breath. “Perfect. I’ll see you tonight. See you later, Robin.” You almost tripped over your own feet in your haste to walk over to El and Max.

A minute later, the three of you left the shop and Robin walked over to the whiteboard. She drew a line under ‘You suck’ and laughed as Steve made an offended noise.

“Hey! That was prime flirting right there. I deserve a rule point.”

“If only you weren’t a dingus and actually asked her out instead of playing the ‘just friends’ card, maybe you would’ve gotten the point,” Robin said and Steve sighed. “You better ask her out before I do.”

“Watch it,” Steve muttered as another customer walked in. “Welcome to Scoops!”

Later that night, you and Steve sat in his car. The movie played over the radio, and you huffed as you turned the radio up. “Could you chew that popcorn any louder?”

“Sure could,” Steve said as he moved closer to you, chewing obnoxiously. You laughed as you slapped his shoulder and he settled back into his seat. “Thanks for actually coming with me. You didn’t have to.”

“Course I did. Plus, I can’t remember the last time we got to hang out without one of the kids interrupting.” Steve breathed out a laugh and hesitated before letting his arm drape over your shoulders. You reached up and started to play with his fingers, humming to yourself. You jumped at a scary part and laced your fingers with Steve’s, a firm grip on his hand as your eyes stayed glued to the screen.

“Not as stupid as you thought?” Steve asked and you shrugged.

“Good scares, but relies on them more than the actual plot.”

“What even is the plot?” You and Steve laughed and with a content sigh, you looked over at him. Steve’s gaze met your own, something you didn’t recognize flickering in his warm brown eyes.

“Everything okay?” You asked, frowning slightly. After graduation night, Steve had seemed a little… off and you couldn’t remember anything that would have made him upset. A lot of that night was fuzzy, to be fair.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something, because we don’t keep secrets. But I’ve been worried about how things could change, and I didn’t want to risk it.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, and he let out a breath as he looked anywhere but you. “We were going to bed after graduation night. And you. You said something, something I thought you meant. But you, you don’t remember it and I don’t know if you even meant it.”

You had been quiet the ride back to Steve’s that night. Steve helped you inside, got you settled into bed and you couldn’t sleep. You and Steve talked, tiredness beginning to take over when you mentioned you had a secret. You scooted closer; Steve could feel your breath fanning over his skin. He still felt the faint feeling of your lips brushing against his shoulder with the softest kiss. Steve was surprised you couldn’t hear his racing heart and he thought he was a goner when he heard you whisper.

“I love you. Ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?”

Then you let out an almost delirious sounding giggle and Steve brushed some of your hair from your face. Let’s talk about it in the morning and see how you feel, he had said. Will still love you in the morning, you had insisted. The next morning though, there were no confessions of love. Just groaning over a headache and ‘five more minutes’ in bed.

“You said you loved me,” Steve said and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

“It’s okay if you don’t-“

“I need to know if you were serious-“ You and Steve stared at each other for a minute until the sound of a scream startled both of you and you reached over to turn the radio down.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while,” you admitted. “I was scared, okay? Scared you didn’t feel the same, scared I’d fuck up our friendship and-“ This time you were interrupted by Steve’s lips brushing against yours. After a second of freezing, you kissed him back, your hands moving to cup his face.

Steve shivered as your thumb rubbed his cheekbone and you broke apart a moment later, noses brushing against each other. “Guess that answers that, huh?”

“Guess so.” You went in for another kiss. And another, and another. You only pulled apart when you needed to breathe, and Steve couldn’t stop staring at your kiss bitten lips. When he finally met your gaze again, there was a fondness in there you hadn’t truly noticed before.

“Do you want to go to dinner with me?” Steve asked and you smiled as you nodded. “Great. Perfect.”

“Perfect.” You echoed. You leaned over the center console, ignoring the slight ache in your hip to rest your head on Steve’s shoulder. Steve’s hand moved to rest on your thigh and you smiled.

“I love you. Ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?” Steve whispered in your ear, lips curled into a smirk and you slapped his chest.

“I was drunk!” The sound of your laughter was music to Steve’s ears and he pulled you closer, feeling happier than he had in ages. Maybe Robin was right; he had been a dingus. But he had ended up with you in the end, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[buckybabieboy]

Heyy! I was reading you work, which I love btw, and I wanted to request a one-shot or blurb for little!bucky accidentally getting drunk, like how would he act, what would he say. I feel like he’d be super clingy and needy. With cg!mommy!reader please 🥹 Love you writing <333

Lol this is gonna be the cutest thing ever😭. Thanks for the request Babie!

Tipsy Baby.

☁️ Summary: Bucky has way too much to drink at Natasha’s party, leaving you to take care of your little boy.

⚠️TW(READ.): sub!touch-starved bucky, dom!fem!reader, Bucky is so touch starved😭, reader is able to carry bucky, lactation kink cuz I felt like it, mentions of alcohol, Bucky can get drunk if he drinks an abundance.

📝A/N(PLEASE READ): DO NOT READ IF YOU DONT LIKE. ITS THAT SIMPLE. DON’T REPORT MY WORK JUST BC YOU DONT LIKE IT. Anyways, pls enjoy this lil blurb! drunk Bucky is just the cutest 🥰. and your right, bucky is VERY clingy AND FUCKING TOUCH STARVEDDDD when he’s drunk.

“Mommyyyy!” Bucky slurs out as he dramatically falls in front of you on the compound’s floor.

“Mommy pay ‘tenttion to me!”

You peer over your phone and watch as your baby heaves and pants on the ground, his beautiful pale skin flushed with pinkish-reddish tones, and his big puppy dog eyes red and puffed.

“Baby, are you drunk?” You question him, though you already know the answer. He only whines and thrashes his limbs around in a hissy fit, not using his words.

“W-why are you so faaarrr?” He wails petulantly, completely ignoring your question.

“M’ not far, sweetheart, ‘m right in front of you.”

An empty bottle of Tiger Beer has accompanied him on the ground, clutched inside his sweaty palms.

“Gimme that!” You sigh before getting off of your comfy spot on the couch and snatching the bottle out of his hands. He whines even more.

“Who let you have this?”

Bucky pouts and mutters something, but it’s almost impossible to hear with the music and noise that flood throughout the compound.

“Can’t hear you bud, you’re gonna have to speak up f’me, okay?”

“T-tasha…” He hiccups. “N-Natasha lemme have some, mommy…”

Another exasperated sigh escapes from you as you begin to regret supporting Bucky’s idea to come to Natasha’s party. It didn’t really surprise you though, since he was always a party guy when he was younger. You rarely ever drank, especially when you were going to an event. You opted out of that a long time when the both of you got drunk, which you both know didn’t end well.

Natasha had invited everyone to her floor for a party. You weren’t too fond of the idea when you heard there was going to be alcohol, but Bucky was very excited and begged you to go. He assured you that Steve and Sam would be there to watch him.

So eventually you gave in, but not before making him promise that he wouldn’t drink.

When you arrived at the party, Bucky was acting more than normal. He immediately started chatting and playing party games with Wanda and Vision. He even played Twister with them, which you knew was a surprise to everyone. Despite the fact that loud noises triggered him, he seemed to be having a good time. Needless to say, you felt comfortable with letting him go off on his own for awhile.

Scanning the room, you spot Natasha by the fridge, a Tiger Beer in hand. The trash can next to her was filled with empty bottles of that stuff, and you knew they had to be Bucky’s. He couldn’t get drunk easily so it would take a copious amount of alcohol to get him drunk.

The blame wasn’t all on Natasha, though. Wanda, Vision, Steve, Natasha, and Sam all were made aware of Bucky and his little space—you’ve told them a numerous amount of times for his safety. So Natasha could’ve given him a bottle, but Bucky must’ve gotten his hands on this much alcohol all by himself.

You’d have to talk to them about that another day though, because right now, your little boy was cemented on the cold floor, spacey and dazed below you.

“S-so pretty. Mommy so pretty!” Bucky giggles, his head cocked to the side in awe as he gazes up at you. He wasn’t thinking about anything else. He literally couldn’t. His little brain couldn’t process anything while in little space, so him being drunk definitely amplified it X10.

“C’mon, baby boy. Let’s get you taken care of.”

You offer your hand to him. He doesn’t budge though, instead he whines, and mutters more incoherent sentences. This wasn’t the first time Bucky lost all of his words. When he was little, most of the time he would gesticulate instead of speaking up.

“Hmm…” You tap your index finger on your chin, prenteding to brainstorm. “Oh! I know what you want! You want uppies!”

Bucky nods and squeals, making grabby hands up at you. You place your hands under his arms, pick him up, and set him on your hip. A precious little noise escapes from him as he wraps his legs around your waist, his arms around your neck, and leans into your touch. The smell of your hair seemed to be the only thing he was able to process.

Once you make it to your floor, you set him down on the bed. He whines once again when you leave and you quickly shush him, reassuring him that you’re just getting his pj’s out for bed. Bucky stands up to take off his pants but stumbles and trips, landing face down on the floor.

“Hnnngh..” He whines, starting to pick up his thrashing and wailing from earlier.

“Hush, my little boy, let Mommy take care of you.”

“M’ dizzy…” He fusses. “Everything’s spinning…”

“I know baby, I know. Let’s get you in your PJ’s, okay?” You hush him a little bit before helping him off the ground and settting him back on the bed. It was a struggle, but you got his pants and shirt off. Now the task was to replace them with his nighttime ones. You take one leg of the pants, grab his leg, and slide it in.

“Good job, Jamie! Now your right leg!” You praise your little boy. He giggles when his pants are all the way on, and doesn’t even fuss when you put his shirt on for him.

“Perfect… now let Mommy get changed and then we can go sleepies, okay?”

He fussed, but you got changed in no time, and his fussing quickly became coos of happiness once you cradled him in your arms.

“My little baby.” You fawn. “Your mommy’s boy aren’t you?”

Bucky’s eyes flutter, as he tries to stay awake. His baby blues are glossy and clouded from the substance earlier.

“Mmm… uh-huh! M’mommy’s boy! Mommy’s goodest boy!”

“Yeah, except for earlier. What did I tell you about drinking that much alcohol? You know your little mind can’t take it.” You scold, and he pouts up at you.

“Sammy was watchin’ me! But then he drank some too, ‘n we-” His hiccups interrupts him.

“W-we made a stupid bet. Who could drink the mostest, ‘n I won.” He giggles at that last part, obviously proud of himself for beating Sam at literally anything.

You were about to respond when you noticed his eyes flutter. His metal fingers tug on your tank top—you already know what that means by now.

“Awh my baby’s hungry! You hungry, sweetheart?” You coo at him in the softest tone possible. He does nothing but nod, his words are becoming little to none—indicating that he was deep in.

“Go ahead, Jamie. You can have some, mommy doesn’t mind.”

You help him out a bit by tugging down the top yourself, your leaking tits out for Bucky to suckle on. He wastes no time, immediately latching his pink lips on your right nipple. His suckles were harsh and rapid. All he wanted right now was to taste your sweet nectar. A few strokes to the scalp and he’s almost out—his stamina completely gone from earlier.

You praise your little baby. Whispering to him all of the things he loved to hear. Calling him all of the names he loved to be called while in his little space.

The meekest whines and whimpers come from him as he suckled more frantically. As time went on he became frustrated—frustrated at the fact that he was too exhausted to keep going.

“Shh, it’s okay. I know… your so exhausted, hm? So exhausted from having so much fun earlier?”

You stroke his scalp with your fingers, keeping the movements slight and slow for him. Bucky could never describe it, but there was always a certain tactic, or pattern in which you’d scratch his scalp that made him feel so innocent. So vulnerable.

You know this, You know what touching Bucky’s hair does to him, what it does to him when he’s completely reliant and under your control.

“I’ve got you, Bucky Bear. Hush now.”

Bucky eventually quiets down, and so do his suckles on your nipple. He lets your nipple fall free from his mouth, some milk dripping down his parted lips. You wipe it off gently.

“Mommy m-mines?” He whimpers. “All mines?” He nuzzles himself into your chest, the warmth of your body and vibration of your voice as you cooed to him always calms him down.

“All yours, honey.”

[vicsy]

Had no idea what to pitch so I literally looked up one word prompts and chose the first few. Pick whichever inspires: Daniel x Max + Sunburn/Tease/Emerge/Afternoon/Impulse/Nurture/Rough/Polaroid/Good

maxiel + polaroid, sunburn

"Drink?"

"Nah, I'm good, thanks. Can't stay long. Duty calls!" Daniel makes an exaggerated gesture. Max cracks a smile. He probably follows the pundit stuff Daniel does more than actual racing these days. "Just wanted to pop by since you're back to calling Monaco home. Nice place, mate."

If not for the sim rig installed in an empty guest room that could have been a nursery in a life he brushed aside, nobody would have ever guessed Max lived here. His new apartment was clean, spacious, incredibly faceless. A simple home for a creature of habit Max always was but not quite a home.

"I wanted to go watch the race this weekend," Max admits and pads through the cluttered living room to the adjacent kitchen, straight to the fridge. It's shiny, sophisticated and very empty, except for a monthly supply of Red Bull and yesterday's leftovers. He grabs a can for himself, wishing he had that beer Daniel used to love. "But I am of course happy to see you after, well. Who knows, yeah?"

Couple years, give or take. Max stopped counting after turning thirty-three.

Behind him, Daniel claps his hands together. Max throws a surprised look over his shoulder, blindly rummaging in the fridge. The shine of Daniel's smile hasn't diminished over the years, but the crow's feet around his eyes, Max discovers, are more prominent than he remembers. He wonders if Daniel notices the little changes about him, too; if he cares for them at all. Max does.

"Oh, congrats on your team winning, uh, another virtual racing thingy," he delivers the line with that old, addictive enthusiasm and, to Max, it's a gut punch. He schools his face, a lump forming in his throat. Daniel gives him a thumbs up, turns around and walks along the empty shelves attached to the TV wall. The lack of decor there makes it look kind of pathetic. Max had only managed to put two of his WEC trophies on display, a helmet he wore for the last race and a nice-looking box of assorted knick-knacks dear to his memory. "Any plans to decimate Le Mans this year, Mr Three Time champ?"

"Fernando is busy with Dakar, so probably I'll skip it. Oscar texted me about doing it next year together, so," Daniel's back is facing him still. Max closes the fridge and opens the Red Bull can, places it on the kitchen counter. Stares at it for a second or two. Then, out of a long-forgotten habit, Max goes for a poorly planned half-joke. "Didn't know you started watching iRacing in your old age. Quick, what's a livestream?"

It's a desperate attempt to even the gap between now and before. Daniel flips him a bird without looking, too occupied with whatever he found on Max's sad little shelves.

"Har, har, fucker. I mean, I gotta keep myself in the game, everything is changing, like, a lot. And, come on, it's you–" he stops talking. Max takes a sip from the can, watching Daniel finally face him. "Huh. Didn't know you still have these."

Max has gone lengths without having to experience a solid enough crash and the debilitating aftermath reverberating through his body. In the sun-flooded apartment, on the freshly turned page, it catches up to Max as abruptly as a rainstorm in the summer.

Forty-three year old Daniel is standing in his unfurnished living room, a splotch of color among the backdrop of generic white paint and a mount of unpacked boxes. Forty-three year old Daniel, with a sprinkle of salt in his hair and a tan line on the ring finger of his left hand, looks at Max like he's a ghost from the past, like it's him who just had to ruin everything when things got too real. He wasn't there when Max paid the price of his own happiness in retaliation.

Forty-three year old Daniel, who sent out an invitation to a wedding Max never attended, holds up two tiny polaroids taken almost a decade ago and all Max can think of is his signature on the divorce papers, the ink still wet.

He swiftly closes the distance to Daniel and snatches both pictures from him, cradles them to his chest. Daniel's hand is left suspended in the air between them. Max ignores the wobble in between his ribs. His eyes trace the line of the rose tattoo in the direct line of vision, memory bristling, anger thrumming underneath his skin.

"I kept them," Max spits. He doesn't mask the bitterness in his voice. He had it bottled up long enough the cork had gone rotten.

Daniel stares back, mouth slack. He looks good and Max hates that, hates his stupid colorful hoodie and his meager attempts to make amends. Above all, Max hates himself for ever conceding. Daniel has always had one foot out the door. Missed chances were Max's fuel and they've still propelled him back to square one.

"Yeah. I figured," Daniel says, too soft, too familiar. Placating. Max should ask him to leave.

Instead, he drops his gaze to the polaroids laid flat on his palm. They're in good condition but Max also hadn't looked at them in months, maybe years; it doesn't matter since those Daniel and Max, everything they stood for, ossified and turned into dust. It doesn't keep Max awake at night anymore.

Out of the two photos, only one comes from the Red Bull PR department. They never cared when it went missing. Max remembers the video they shot too starkly to be unbothered it ever happened — him and Daniel in matching team gear, insane rain in Monaco; Max winning that weekend and Daniel watching from the pit wall.

The other polaroid, a bit rough on the edges, had never seen the light of day. It captured just a part of Max's sunburnt face, a corner of his smile; Daniel's lips pressed to his cheek, his wet curls in disarray. Max gets a phantom ache in his chest when he remembers how the camera ended up in the sand, falling off a small table where they had propped it up against a half-empty cocktail glass.

Daniel cups Max's hand holding the photos from underneath, painfully hesitant. Max flits his eyes up to the hollow of Daniel's throat, to his full beard; to the pleading look stabbing daggers into the soft edges of Max that were once hard and unforgiving. 

Stashing those polaroids was Max’s way to forget he wished to go back. He was never the one to leave in the first place; that was Daniel's sworn prerogative. But he's in Max's living room now, a lifetime away from running.

"Max–"

"I think," he cuts in before Daniel makes it worse or gives him hope. His hand slips from Daniel's hold and Max retraces his steps back to the kitchen. Daniel tracks his every move. "I think I will put them here."

He sticks the polaroids to the enormous fridge door with a Welcome to Monaco magnet he fished out of a nearby drawer. The photos look whacky but, to Max, it's a long shot. He lingers in place, berating himself for giving this another chance. 

When he turns back around, Daniel is just an arm's length away.

"About that drink," Daniel says, low. Max watches his tongue dart out, wetting his lips. His heart jackhammers against his ribs.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Max's back hits the fridge.

Send me a ship/character(s) and a one word prompt and I will write a 5 sentence fic abou

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

Oh my goodness!! I am in love with “you hurt me pretty good too” I would love to read more about them if that’s possible? I mean anything about them I would love...could be their back story (like how they became fwb), the time between part one and two (like telling the cameron family and going to doctors appointments and when reader gives birth), a part three of the story, headcanons of a normal day at reader and rafe’s house, anything

you hurt me pretty good too pt 0.

pairing(s): rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: implied sex, pet names, alcohol consumption

summary: the story of how you and rafe meet.

authors note: i’m so happy to hear you enjoyed it!! i’ll make another part to this as well to explain the rest of the story, but for now, here is this!

part zero | part one | part two

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

“kie, i’ll be fine. ‘m just gonna go grab another drink,” you drunkenly assured your friend. “i’ll be right back.”

“hurry,” she replied. “come right back.”

you jokingly saluted. “yes ma’am.”

you pushed the glass door open and headed inside the spacious house, pushing past the crowd of drunk teens towards the kitchen where the drinks were held.

you looked to the bowl of red liquid with an empty bottle of vodka beside it. upon noticing the small pockets of whatever unknown substance floating around in it, you opted for something closed and untampered with.

you opened up the fridge and saw the bunches of cases filled with beer. opting for a bottle instead of a can, you picked one out and shut the fridge. as you turned to the side to begin your way back to your friends, someone unknowingly collided with you and whatever cool liquid was in their cup began to pour on and down your shirt.

“shit,” you heard the voice say. “sorry, i wasn’t paying attention.”

you jaw was practically on the floor, arms frozen by your midsection and body beginning to erupt in goosebumps. it was like you’d just jumped into an ice bath.

you were already pissed off that someone had ruined your red top, but that apology was also absolute shit. they couldn’t be more insincere.

you looked up to see who it was, annoyed to find that it was none other than rafe cameron. the shitty apology cashed out now.

he grabbed your hand, the one not holding your beer. “c’mon.” he began to lead you through the watchful eyes of the party and towards what you assumed was a bathroom.

he shut and locked the door once inside and began to bunch up some paper towel. not wanting to stand or sit on a toilet that has been puked on by teens all night, you hopped up on the bathroom counter and sat by the sink.

he ran warm water onto the paper towel and turned to you, beginning to wipe by your collarbones. “so that’s how its gonna go? not gonna ask or anything? just start rubbing a soggy paper towel on me?” you questioned, head tilted down to watch his hand move.

“do you want to be sticky or not?” he snapped with a sassy attitude.

“you were the one that spilled your beer on me,” you replied just as sassy.

he stopped for a second and took a deep breath. “i apologized. did i not?”

you laughed under your breath. “it was a shit apology.”

“yeah? well, at least i apologized,” he replied.

you rolled our eyes and shook your head. you weren’t going to win with him. you knew you weren’t. so you decided to just sit and wait until he finished.

he threw away the old paper towel and grabbed a new one, dipping it under the water again then wiping over the tops of your breasts.

you couldn’t help but look over his concentrated face. he’d truly changed since you last saw him.

he’d traded the side part for a middle part, the polos for flannels and quarter zip sweaters, and he no longer seemed like he was as much of an immature asshole.

still an asshole but much more immature.

“stop ogling at me,” he said.

there was that arrogance you knew so well. “you’re the one staring at my boobs,” you replied.

“so what?” he asked.

your brows furrowed. “so i can’t look at your face, but you can stare at my tits.”

“only reason i’m looking is cause i’m cleaning you off. wanna do it yourself?” he snapped back.

“i’d probably do a much better job,” you replied.

he stopped his movements and leaned back slightly to look in your eyes. “maybe i could work a little better if you’d shut up.”

“you talk big shit, cameron,” you mumbled under your breath.

he squinted at you and leaned in closer. “i didn’t quite catch that. what’d you say?” he knew damn well what you said.

“maybe if you’d just hurry the hell up and clean up your mess, we can both be on our merry little wa—“

before you could even finish your sentence, his lips were on yours.

[thetriumphantpanda]

handcuffs and alibis

I cannot be tamed so here, have part five of dbf!Joel. Y'all can thank @morning-star-joy for this one, she kinda came up with the idea of tying Joel to the headboard. ENJOY y'all, I wrote this under the influence of two glasses of wine and a double tequila soda so... you've been warned. You can read the previous 4 parts here, and if you'd like to leave a tip on my ko-fi I'd be eternally grateful, but of course, no pressure!

Pairing | dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary | Joel teases you at another family cookout, so you decide to take your revenge.

Word Count | 3.8k

Warnings | As always, just dbf!Joel in general. Alcohol consumption and mentions of food, public teasing, oral (M receiving), use of restraints, dirty talk, protected PiV sex, no use of Y/N.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Texas Sun Playlist

Your dad never really needs an excuse to hold a cookout, especially during these long summer months. So, when you finally get the call that you did in fact land the job you wanted, he’s straight out stocking up on enough beer to get the entire street drunk and enough food to feed the US army. 

He’s currently grilling the second lot of steaks, even though everyone sat around the table is stuffed from the burgers, skewered meats and hot dogs and no-one can really move. It’s a quieter affair than your welcome home party – sat around the table are your parents, Tommy and Joel and two of your mom’s friends from work. That doesn’t stop you from planting yourself directly across the table from Joel, making eyes at him over your bottle of beer, and running your bare foot up the part of his leg that you can reach under the table. 

He's been a picture of calm the entire time, his eyes didn’t throw a shade of warning across to you, just a look that said, ‘go on, I dare you.” Which you had been putting to the test the entire evening. 

“Can’t believe you’re actually going to be an archivist, smartass,” Tommy beams across the table when you’ve all had your fill of food, “We all knew you’d land it though.” 

You smile and clink your beer with his, “Can’t deny it’s a huge relief, thought I was going to be unemployed for way longer than this.” 

“Drinks on you next time, then?” He teases, “Joel and I know a great bar in town, maybe we can go sometime?” 

“Are the drinks cheap?” You smirk, “I’m not going to be making millions and the way you two drink I’ll be bankrupt in no time.” 

As you’re talking you can feel Joel’s foot tapping against yours under the table. It’s innocent enough but it’s just distracting enough that you struggle to engage in the rest of the conversation. You’re grateful when your mother takes the lull of silence in conversation as a sign to start clearing up. You almost jump at the opportunity to help her, which has her raising her eyebrow, but she doesn’t question you. 

Once she’s brought all the dirty plates and cutlery along with the dishes of leftovers, she grabs a chilled bottle of wine from the fridge and heads back out to her friends, leaving you alone, yet again, to clean up a party held for you. You make quick work of packaging up the leftover sides and meat, putting them in the fridge before you start rinsing plates and putting them in the dishwasher. 

“This feels awful familiar,” Joel’s voice speaks behind you, you turn and watch him peer into the dishwasher, “Good girl, nice to see I’ve taught you somethin’ useful.”

“What the hell are you doing, Joel?” You hiss. 

He looks at you with a confused look, “I was complimentin’ your stackin’ skills, am I not allowed to do that?” 

“Good girl,” You attempt to mock his accent, “Really, Joel?” 

He has a glint in his eye and smirk across his mouth, “Don’t usually complain when I’m calling you that.” 

“Usually because we’re alone, Joel.” You murmur as he takes a step towards you, resting his hand on the small of your back before he leans down as close as he can get to speak into your ear. 

“You started it,” He speaks lowly, “All that with your foot runnin’ up my leg, got me all worked up sweetheart, and now I want you.” 

You jerk your head to look out of the window, no-one is particularly looking into the window, but it would be so easy for anyone to turn their head and immediately see Joel pressed up against you, whispering into your ear. 

You nudge your elbow into his stomach behind you, “Not here,” You hiss, “Anyone could see us.” 

“Awful shy, all of a sudden, sweetheart,” He teases into your ear, but is thankfully moving back from you, “Suit yourself.” 

You finish stacking the dishwasher as he pulls out two cold beers from the fridge, using your dad’s ‘Florida’ bottle opener from a vacation you took years ago to open them both, setting one down on the side for you. He leans against the fridge once it’s closed, sipping at his beer as he watches you. You wipe your hands dry on a towel and grab the beer, taking two long drinks from the bottle. 

“C’mon, people’ll be wondering where we’ve gotten to.” 

“Certainly can’t have that.” You mumble, quietly enough that he doesn’t hear you. 

Back outside, Tommy is stood with your dad at the bottom of the garden, looking into the shed. Tommy is pointing at something and laughing and a split second later you can hear your dad’s low chuckle as well. Your mom and her friends have moved from the table to sit on the loungers that are around the pool, sipping wine and squealing at whatever neighbourhood gossip they’re talking about. 

Joel’s hand is on the small of your back again, guiding you back to the table you were sitting at to eat dinner, you sit back in your old chair, Joel this time opts to sit next to you, because of course he does. 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” You tip your beer bottle towards your mom and her friends. 

“Probably the fact that Marcia at the end of the street is having an affair with her assistant at work.” He says it so nonchalantly that you almost think he’s joking, until you look up at him and find he’s deadly serious.

“Oh my god, really?” You choke on your beer, “Joel she’s like sixty, how old is he?” 

He shrugs, “How am I supposed to know,” he takes a sip of his own drink, “Heard ‘em gossiping when I came inside.” 

“Get it girl, I guess,” You snigger, “Her husband must be pushing seventy and we’ve all got needs I suppose.” 

His warm hand comes to rest on your thigh, just above your knee. It’s under the table and with everyone else preoccupied with their conversations, no-one would really notice, but there’s still a thrill settling through your bones. 

“Promise you’d let me sort your needs out at seventy, sweetheart?” 

You snort, “Joel, when I’m seventy there’s a strong likelihood, you’ll either be senile in a home or dead.” 

He throws his head back as he laughs, probably one of the most genuine expressions of happiness you’ve ever seen from him, and it warms your heart that you were the one to cause it. Outside of Tommy and Sarah, and occasionally your dad, Joel was stoic, almost to a fault, but you liked this version of him, warm and happy, with his hand on your thigh. 

Said hand is now currently inching it’s way higher, hitting the material of your dress. You drop your head and watch as his hand disappears underneath the white linen material to rest dangerously close to the apex of your thighs. You turn your head to give him a warning look but he’s not even paying attention to you. He’s looking anywhere but at your face, his own plastered with a look of complete indifference that his fingers are brushing the cotton of your underwear and causing your breath to catch in your throat. 

You can feel him tracing the seam of your pussy through the material and if he’s not careful, within the next few seconds you’re going to outwardly beg him to bend you over and fuck you on this table in front of everyone. To save yourself the pain of watching him slowly murdered by your father, you reach down and grab his wrist, pulling his hand away from you. 

“Will you give it a rest?” You chide, “Don’t start something you can’t finish. 

Almost on cue, Tommy is bounding up the garden, your father a few steps behind him. Joel extricates his hand from between your legs, still looking like the picture of calm. 

“Can you give me a ride into town?” Tommy asks, “Delia wants to grab drinks.” 

You watch as Joel rolls his eyes, “Can you not take a cab?” 

“C’mon Joel, just run me into town, it won’t take too long.” 

“Who’s Delia?” You ask, winking at Tommy. 

“Tommy’s latest girlfriend,” Joel replies, standing from the chair, “He’s smitten.” 

“She ain’t my girlfriend, jackass,” Tommy glares at Joel, “We’re just spendin’ time together.” 

“Oh, so she’s your fuck buddy then?” You smirk, causing Joel to choke on his spit and Tommy to laugh. 

“Oh, c’mon old man,” Tommy is teasing, clapping him on the back, “You could use one’a them yourself, spendin’ all your time alone in that house.” 

It’s your turn to flush, the words if only you knew spring to the forefront of your mind, and it’s almost like Joel reads your thoughts. 

“Who says I ain’t got one of my own?” 

Tommy looks disgusted for a second at the thought of his older brother having his own fuck buddy, you can feel your cheeks flushing too, knowing that it’s you he’s talking about when no-one else around you has any idea, “Right, well you keep that information to yourself please.” Is all Tommy replies before him and Joel are bidding everyone goodbye. 

You sit for a moment outside, trying to calm yourself down, but all you can do is rub your thighs together and sigh that Joel did in fact start something he couldn’t finish, leaving you high, dry and horny in favour of taking his brother into the city to get his dick wet. 

“You alright, doll?” Your dad asks, taking Joel’s old chair, “Looking a little flushed,” He puts his hand on your forehead to check for a temperature, “You feelin’ alright?” 

“I’m fine dad,” You mumble in response, suddenly hyper aware of the high-pitched screeching coming from your mom and her friends, “I might go and lie down for a bit.” 

“Alright,” He leans over and presses a kiss to your cheek, “You just shout if y’need anything, alright?” 

You lie on your bed upstairs for two hours. Somewhere around the first hour you can hear your mom bidding her friends goodnight and then the hushed talk she has with your father. Once the sun has set and the sky is dark you hear them go to bed, and not ten minutes later the soft snores of your father start drifting through your wall. 

You’re too worked up to sleep. What you should do is reach into your drawer, pull out your vibrator and get yourself off, drift off to sleep and let it lie. Without thinking about the consequences though, you’re standing from your bed and opening your bedroom door as quietly as you can. You close it behind you and when there isn’t a lull in the sound of your parents snoring you know you’re in the clear. You pad down the stairs and slip on your sandals at the door, slipping out once you’ve grabbed one of your dad’s ties from the washing basket. 

You’re halfway down the street when you really think about what you’re doing. Turning up to his house unannounced with a big plan and no real idea on how to execute it properly. What if he was already in bed? Or what if he’d decided to stay in town with Tommy and have a drink? Thankfully as you get closer to his house you notice his truck is in the driveway. A few steps later you see the light in the bottom window, meaning he’s still up and about. 

You knock gently at the door, listening as you can hear shuffling behind it before he pulls it open. He looks you up and down with a smirk on his face, fingers hooked into the top of his jeans like he always stands. 

“Well, ain’t this a nice surprise?” 

“You started something you didn’t finish,” You breathe, stepping close enough to him to press your body against his own, “I want you to finish it,” You demand, “Right now.” 

“That so?” 

You step back just enough to reach your hands to his shoulders, pushing him back inside his home. You’re half-aware of him slamming the door shut behind you, but then his hands are snaking around your waist and your back is pressed against the wall as his lips finally crash to yours. It’s messy, all teeth and tongue, but you’re not complaining. You’d been dreaming of him kissing you all evening. 

“How am I meant to finish it then, sweetheart?” He asks, breathing against your lips before joining them together again. 

“Bedroom,” You gasp out the next time he pulls away from you, “Take me to bed, Joel.” 

He wastes no time in grasping at your wrist and pulling you up the stairs and into his room. It is so quintessentially Joel. Bed unmade, overflowing washing basket in the corner. Chest of drawers which wouldn’t close because each drawer was stuffed so full of clothes and other things they were overflowing. 

You turn to him, he’s leant in the doorway, cool as a cat, which infuriates you because you are so incredibly turned on. Your chest is heaving with every breath you take, skin flushed hot, “Take off your clothes.” You insist. 

“Take off my clothes?” 

“Did I stutter?” You raise an eyebrow and his face drops when he knows you mean business. 

He’s slow about it. He drags his t-shirt over his head as he walks towards his bed, discarding it to the floor as you turn on the spot to follow him with your eyes. Then he’s looking straight at you as he undoes his belt with one hand, pulling it through the belt loops to fall to the floor as well. He unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pulling them down excruciatingly slowly. Then he stands and waits. 

“All of it, Joel.” You motion to his boxers with the clear bulge of his cock visible through them. 

“As you wish, ma’am.” And they too are discarded, leaving him completely naked to your complete state of dress. 

“On the bed.” 

You wonder if he can tell what might be about to happen because he lies down on the bed, head propped against the pillow. You’re quick to take your place at the foot of the bed, crawling up his body to straddle his hips. You can feel his cock nudging against the cotton of your underwear as you fall into him and kiss him. He opens his mouth against yours and it’s at this moment that you pull the tie from inside your bra into one hand. His eyes are closed, and he has no idea what’s about to happen. You drop the tie on the pillow next to him, using one hand to wrap around one his wrists, pulling it to rest above his head. You put all your weight on this hand, using your other to pull his other wrist above his head also. 

He's too busy tangling his tongue with yours and bucking his hips into your clothed pussy to notice you reaching for the tie on the pillow. In fact, it’s not until you’re pulling yourself away from him and wrapping the silk of the tie around his wrists and knotting it to the headboard that he starts to question what you’re doing. 

“What- fuck baby, what’re you doing?” His voice is wavering as he tugs his wrists. 

“Making you pay.” You shrug, simply. 

“Whatever did I do to deserve this?” He asks, watching intently as you start moving down his body with trails of your tongue, stopping occasionally, to press hot kisses to his skin. 

“You already forget your teasing from earlier?” You mumble against his skin. 

���Thought you liked it.” He whimpers as your lips are peppering kisses along his pubic bone, ignoring the throbbing of his cock. 

“I did,” You admit, “Until you left me high and dry.” 

“That wasn’t my fault,” He insists, breathing laboured, “If Tommy wasn’t so insistent, I’d have stayed and fucked you in that garden.” 

You hum against his skin, trailing kisses down his thighs, dragging your fingernails after your mouth. You revel in the sounds of his deep breathing and the gasps he’s letting out. 

“I don’t think this is very fair, sweetheart.” Joel’s strained voice comes from above you, causing you to take a break from pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along his thighs. 

“You weren’t complaining about teasing when you were in charge, Mr Miller.” 

You hear a groan of frustration because he knows it’s true. He knows he pushed his luck earlier and he knows this is one battle he’s not going to win. He relents his incessant pulling at the tie that’s got him trapped to the headboard, not quite sure how you’re so practiced at tying men up so they can’t move, but he files that away to ask about later. Now he just focuses on you and your lips. The lips that he so wishes would just move a little to the right and envelop his cock in one go. He’s sure the relief from your teasing would be enough to having him come down your throat in minutes. 

If you were a better woman, you’d have been able to keep this up for hours, but there’s an ache between your legs that is crying out to you to bury yourself on his cock. You can tell from the way he’s jutting his hips up to meet your lips wherever you kiss him that’s telling you he’s struggling too. You’ve proven your point, now it’s time to have fun. 

“What do you want Joel?” You ask, looking up at him from your place between his thighs. 

His eyes are begging you, “Sweetheart,” He huffs, “I need your mouth on me.” 

He’s waited long enough. You grip the base of his cock in your hand, running your tongue along the underside before your lips wrap around the tip. The moan that drops from his mouth is indecent, and it only gets better when you start bobbing your head up and down his length. 

“Untie me baby,” He begs as you feel his cock hit the back of your throat, “I wanna put my hands on you.” 

You pull your mouth off him, using your hand to jerk him off, running strands of saliva up and down his length, “I don’t think so, you got more than enough earlier.” 

He throws his head back and groans as you put your mouth back on him, taking him as far down your throat as possible, using your hand to pump the rest of his length that you couldn’t. His groans spur you on until he bucks his hips up as your mouth is running down his length, causing you to gag, tears forming in your eyes. 

“Shit… shit baby,” He curses and then mumbles that he’s sorry, “I ain’t gonna last much longer, let me fuck you.” 

Your pussy is practically begging for him to be inside of you, clenching around nothing at all with every drag of your mouth and swirl of your tongue around him, so he doesn’t have to tell you twice. You push yourself back on your knees, pulling your dress over your head and your underwear down your legs. 

“Condoms?” You asked, his head motions to the bedside table. 

You lean over him and pull one out, ripping the package open with your teeth before you’re rolling it down his length and straddling his hips, your tight cunt hovering inches above him. One last attempt at teasing him. He’s lined up just right with your entrance that when he bucks his hips, the head of his cock is nudging through your slick and into you and you’ve lost the game. 

You sink yourself down onto him, throwing your head back in pleasure as your roll your hips and grind onto him. You open your eyes and the picture below you is a sight to behold. Joel, with his hands tied to his headboard by your dad’s striped, blue work tie, mouth agape with your name tumbling from his lips. He’s got a sheen of sweat across his beautifully tanned skin, beads of it pooling at his temples and dropping down onto the pillowcase below. He is completely at your mercy, and you think that if you tried hard enough, stared at him for long enough, that just this sight alone could make you come. 

“Baby c’mon, untie me.” Joel begs once again. 

You shake your head, instead leaning back, one hand gripping his knee behind you to steady yourself, the other snaking down your body to rest on your pussy. You dip your fingers down low enough to gather slick from where Joel’s cock is splitting you open, dragging your fingers up to circle your clit. You’re so sensitive from the teasing and the wanting that you know you’re finished before you really even start. 

“God damn,” Joel moans beneath you, “So fuckin’ tight for me, that’s it, play with your pretty pussy for me,” Even when he’s tied up, he’s a menace, “Can feel you clenching me baby, you gonna come?” You nod your head but continue bouncing on his cock whilst your fingers bring you to the edge, “Touched yourself for less than a minute and you’re gonna come all over my cock, ain’t ya?” 

“Fuck Joel, it’s just too good.” 

“I know baby, I know,” He’s coaxing you, bringing his hips up to meet you on your way down, hitting that delicious spot inside you that he knows will make you come undone, “Give it to me, darlin’.” 

It’s all you need. You hand is dropping from your pussy, palms of your hands hitting his chest as you convulse around his cock, crying his name out into the depths of his bedroom. He doesn’t let up his thrusts though, pounding into you from below, chasing his own high which soon follows. 

You can feel the throbbing of his cock inside you, wishing that you could feel him painting your slick walls with his seed. Soon, you think, but not yet.

You’re face down on his chest when he mumbles from above you, “Think you can untie me now?”

You chuckle, pushing yourself off his chest to untie the knot. It comes apart easily and you think that if he had really wanted to, he could have pulled his hands apart and freed himself. He’s taking the tie from your hands. 

“Where the hell’d you even get this?” He asks as you collapse onto the bed next to him. 

“It’s my dad’s.” You smirk, turning to him, his eyes wide, dropping the tie to the floor like it had burnt him. 

“M’never gonna be able to look at that man the same way.” He mumbles, turning onto his side, propping himself up on one arm, whilst using the other to rub soft circles on the skin of your tummy. 

“Had to teach you a lesson somehow,” You grin at him, “Bet you won’t tease me again.” 

“Oh sugar, if you’re gonna tie me up and ride me like that every time, you bet your bottom dollar I absolutely will.” 

[maeleelee]

Chapter one

Twilight Memories

Tw: You meet the step mom, high school things happen, getting picked on, Omegas are bottom of the food chain for most. Not too too much for this chapter, but if I did miss anything, let me know.

Chan stood there sighing as his dad just non-stopped talked about the ceremony to make him alpha of the pack. Minho and Changbin would help him run it, but second in command alphas. “Father.” He mumbled as he stood. “We’ve been over this the last three meetings. It’s the same thing over and over again. I have my pack. I know who I want in it and I’ll always take care of the town too.”

The king stood and looked at the boy. “Fine. You can go but if you aren’t here tomorrow to go over the ceremony actually, I’ll come find you. Got it?” He said in his alpha voice. “This is important. You can’t miss it.”

Chan sighed again and nodded. “Father. I’ll be there. I swear.” He stated. “Minho and Changbin will be here too.”

“Good. Now out of my office.” The king shooed him out.

“Bye father.” Chan said as he walked out and towards his mechanic shop and plopped onto the couch in the main office.

“That bad?” Minho chuckled, whipping his fingers clean, making sure Jisung hadn’t called while he was under the car.

“It’s just the same thing over and over and over and over.” Chan repeated to the younger wolf.

“Jisung has met an omega. She’s cute and tiny.” Minho told the older alpha. “She’s coming by with him before he goes back to the pack house to study.” He smiled.

“We’re okay with another omega? Jisung and Felix are okay with this?” He asked Minho, just trying to make sure no one would get hurt.

“Well, Felix calls for Binnie. Jisung will call for all three of us but you know he normally calls me.” Minho chuckled. “Maybe she’ll be yours.” He smiled.

“I don’t need an omega right now. Not with this ceremony and moving up and graduating.” Chan mumbled, standing. He walked to the fridge and grabbed a beer from it, cracking it open and taking a sig.

He looked up as he heard Jisung’s voice, smiling as he saw the boy, eyes drifting to the girl next to him. Minho was right. She was really tiny. “This is Evelyn. Evelyn, this is Minho and Chan.” Jisung introduced everyone. “We have science together and ended up in the same group for this project!” Chan kinda blocked the boy out, eyes taking in the omega next to him. He wanted to scent her, make sure no one messed with her. He wanted to take in everything about her. Every freckle she has, every mole, every scar, wrinkle.

Chan shook his head for a second, going back to his drink, going to sit back on the couch.

Minho chuckled and looked at Jisung, walking over and grabbing the boys face. “Was school okay today?”

“Yes oppa. Nothing happened at school today.” Jisung mumbled.

“Jisung. Don’t lie to me.” Minho pouted, a small growl leaving his throat.

“There was a beta who was picking on Evelyn and I stepped in just to get her out of the fire zone but thankfully Seungmin was there.” Jisung told him with big eyes. “We’re okay Oppa. Promise.” He whispered to Minho.

Minho sighed and nodded, leaning down and kissing the boys face gently. “Get on to the pack house.” Minho told the boy.

“Was going to walk Evelyn home.” Jisung pouted. “Can I Oppa? Don’t want her walking alone, not after what happened today.” He whispered, looking at her then back to Minho.

Minho sighed and went to walk with them, when Chan stood. “I got it. Finish closing up for the day.” Chan told the younger alpha.

“You got it.” Minho said, turned and started putting up the tools.

Chan threw the can of beer away and walked with them two of the omega to Evelyn’s place. “How long have you been here now?” He asked her, wanting small talk.

“About five months.” She blushed as she told Chan, who smiled as the sound of her voice. He could listen to her talk all day.

“Five months huh?” Chan chuckled. “You’re just now exploring?”

She laughed at his question and shook her head. Her laugh was music to his ears. “My dad is very strict and my stepmom doesn’t help the matter. I’m just a school body to get away.” She told the alpha.

Jisung smiled and looked at Chan. “When you become alpha, you can get her away, right?” He asked with big eyes.

Chan smiled and ruffled the boys hair. “I can try my dammest to get her out of there.” He smiled and looked back at Evelyn. “We’ll get you away soon.” He hummed.

Evelyn just blushed, cheeks red as could be. She looked away, worried she’d start liking him when she needed to focus on school, to get into the college, to move away. Why would he take her in?

Chan licked his lips as she looked away, taking in everything about her again. Jisung giggled and hugged Chan, arms wrapping around his waist and he looked up at the older boy. “I know that look.” He whispered out. “I can drag her back to the pack house.” He smirked but pouted when Chan shook his head. “Fine.”

Chan chuckled and leaned down. “She’s new to all this, don’t wanna scare her away now.” He smiled, kissing the boy under the ear making him shiver. “She smells delicious though.” He whispered.

Jisung giggled and nodded. “She does smell yummy.” He turned back to her. “Let’s get walking again before you get into trouble.”

They got to her house, her stepmom opening the door and glaring at the three of them. “Took you long enough. I’m starving and your dad will be home soon.”

Chan stood straight up, his wolf wanting to take control of this situation. He looked at Evelyn and shook his head. “She was studying for a class.”

“She should be here when she’s supposed to be. We go through this all the time.” Clover growled at Chan.

Chan looked at her with a harder glare, pulling Evelyn over to Jisung. “Here’s how this is going to go, one, if I see her with another bruise, I’ll get my dad involved. Two, if I hear you’re being a bitch again, I’ll also get him involved. Or I could wait til I become the alpha of this pack, and then I could destroy you. Now, Evelyn is gonna do what she wants to do.” Chan growled in his alpha voice.

“It’s okay. I can handle it.” She whispered to Chan as she pulled on his shirt. “I’m an omega, she can’t do much because she can seriously hurt me. So she won’t. Props of being an omega I guess.” She whispered, pulling her sleeves down and pulling him down to her where she kissed his cheek. “Thank you though.”

Chan blushed lightly and nodded. “Of course Evelyn. You deserve to be treated like everyone else is being treated.” He told her.

Evelyn just smiled softly and walked inside, waving to the two boys as she did.

Chan turned to Jisung and jisung nodded. “No worries alpha. I’m already on it.” He hummed, texting Changbin and seeing if they still had a pack room available.

“You wanna get it set for her now? Or after your alpha?” Jisung asked him, pulling up Amazon.

“Now. So I can get her out by the time I’m alpha.” Chan told the omega boy. “Want her happy. She’s happy when she’s with you.” He told jisung. “Put her close to your room. We can move everyone around.”

Masterlist

taglist: @mxnsxngie @imagine-a-life-like-this @cadenonlinelive @acrylishly @hobasimp89 @babyboyquokka @juskz @kitkat1sstuff @boo-ven9eance

[militarymenrbomb]

28yr old friends first timd

My first gay experience

I´m 32 now but at the time i was 28.

After a night of drinking with friends my best friend asked me i wanted to crash at his place. So after a fun night we went over to his place, not feeling ready to sleep we took some beers and turnend on the tv. After a couple of minutes he suggested to watch a porn movie, both being straight guys (he has a gf, i just had a brake up with my gf) i agreed and we started watching a porn movie. While watching the movie i looked at his crotch and saw his dick pushing against his pants, my dick was hard and wet and i was getting more and more horny as the minutes passed by. My friend got up and walked to the fridge for another beer, i stood up as he came back in the living room. Putting his beer on the table he rubbed his hard dick against my hand. My underwear was wet with precum... He turns around, facing me, and told me "i´m really horny, are you?" His mouth is inches away from mine, i´m nervous as fuck, thinking "what is happening, what am i doing". In that moment we start kissing. My first time kissing a man and i know it´s the same for my friend. I don´t know what i´m doing but place my hand on his crotch, i´m feeling his hard throbbing cock. This really gets me going, i´m rock hard and i feel his hand firmly grabbing my dick. We stop kissing for a moment and he undoes the button of my pants and opens my zipper, i do the same and pull his pants down. His dick is so hard it´s pulsating, he asks "let me see yours". I pull my pants down and we start jerking each other whilst kissing. I´m so horny, feeling his hard dick in my hand, that i ask him if i could suck his dick. I get on my knees, being straight this was a weird moment, i put the tip of his dick against my lips and taste his precum. I´m thinking "wow i like this". I start licking his head, his balls in my hand, i put my mouth over his dick. Going up and down his shaft, feeling his head down my mouth and throat. Fuck me i´m really loving the feeling... i stop for a moment and tell him "you can never tell this to anybody", he agrees and i continue sucking his dick, licking his shaft, kissing his head and just sucking his cock. He´s moaning and suddenly says "i´m cumming, i´m going to cum". I just open my mouth and he realises i want him to cum in my mouth. I will never forget the first time hot cum touched my tongue, feeling him ejaculate in my mouth made me cum so hard. Cum on the floor, cum in my mouth... my first gay experience was something else

this is from a reddit. as you can see, it's loaded with hot stories.

/gaystoriesgonewild•3 days agoSubstantial_Price387

[ghostismybbygorl]

Random headcannons

I cant think of anything with price atm so enjoy the childrem please feel free to add on id love to start a headcannon chain

Ghost

Ghost is a gremlin at night. If you wake up in the middle of the night youll spot him in the kitchen not eating but devouring food. Its one after the other first its something sweet then salty and to top it off CHOCOLATE

He his a chocoholic he LOVES chocolate. Easter is one of his favorite holidays because of the chocolate bunnies. He will eat those lindt bunnies like a mad man. Theres always one in his hand

He always carries little chocolates around especially hershey kisses just for the sole reason to fuck with people.

"You want a kiss?" "Uhhh" *pulls out a hershey kiss*

Religiously Cracks his knuckles

He plays guitar and loves to chill out relax and jam out

Hates to play heavy metal he prefers to play more psychedelically music

Soap

He kicks with his left foot when he plays soccer.

He has osteoarthritis in his left knee from playing soccer causing him to wear his knee brace. He has chronic knee pain and it tends to get worse when it rains

Knows exactly when its going to rain because of his knee and its a bit freaky

LOVES FRUIT

Kiwis are his favorite

He can do the emo scream too well

Was secretly in a screamo band when he was in highschool

He used to skateboard back in highschool but quit when he broke his arm doing a dumbass stunt

He can only do a kickflip now

He plays the drums

He will stand or squat int the middle of a room hyper fixating on whatever hes reading, working on, watching, ect he wont move until its done or he looses interest in it

He has a waterproof speaker in his shower that he plays and SINGS so loud

He's actually a pretty decent singer

Gaz

He sleeps with a bonnet

He absolutely loves marshmallows and will casually eat a bag of them

King of chubby bunny

A BRAIDING KING no matter how short the hair is HE CAN BRAID IT.

He eats peanut butter straight from the jar

CRUNCHY PEANUT BUTTER STAN

hes a slut for reese's peanut butter cups and the MINI M&MS OF THEM OH LORD TAKE THEM AWAY HELL EAT THEM LIKE A MAD MAN

He loves to eat oranges and will

A.) eat a whole bag if clementines and oranges in one sitting

B). Forget about them and have them rot in the fridge

He has a collection of squishmellows on his bed and has a name for every one of them

SAS MASTER: his comebacks are legendary and dont get me started on the your mom jokes

Religously drinks ginger beer

He loves those fruity cocktails he'll usually order a moscow mule or a cosmopolitan

He loves to read and will finish a book within a day

He read the whole percy jackson series in less than a week

His house is FILLED to the brim with books hes got a cute little catty corner in his house that he likes to curl up and read his book

Has a tumblr and writes fanfiction only soap know about it

[beefrobeefcal]

I love your writing and am so excited to read more! Chubby!Frankie is so hot and feral 🖤 I want to make him a birthday cake just for him and watch him eat it on his birthday ❤️ Most of my thots are food themed so I'm excited to find this type of fic! Have a lovely day!

ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE!

Everyone enjoys a bit of cake... some enjoy more at a time than others - thank you, @neverwheremoonchild for your generous contribution to the THOT TANK!

Beefro 👌🥩💜

--------<3----------

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Frankie one shot

The Catfish & The Mouse: Happy Birthday, Frankie! Part 1

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader (Mouse!)

Summary: Frankie has his cake and eats it all.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 1,623

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut (alluded to), Belly Worship, Belly Stuffing, Oral (m-receiving), shirt popping, birthday nonsense

Author's Notes: Chubby!Frankie is a happy boy! Part 2 coming soon to a Beefro's Bistro near you!

Thank you @theywhowriteandknowthings for their time, energy & eyeballs - you're review is greatly appreciated!

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“So… what’s the verdict? A barbeque or are you going throw him a private party yourself?”, Hannah asked, wiggling her eyebrows at you from across the table.

You laughed and took another drink of your latte. “Not sure… I asked him and he didn’t give me a straight answer. But he was insistent that he get a Reece’s Pieces birthday cake.”

You had gone out shopping with Hannah, and the topic of Frankie’s birthday came up. Anytime it was one of the group’s special day, there was generally some sort of get together, and Hannah was the queen of party planning.

“Oh, Frankie… what are we going to do with him?”, Hannah mused. “How about we just take him to the bar and make they guys watch as we drink ourselves stupid?”

“Love that idea. I’ll tell him that because he didn’t answer, you and I planned something special for him – us! Drunk!”, you nodded with a big laugh.

By the time you got home, you’d worked over your bank account pretty well picking out birthday gifts for Frankie. As you were hiding your haul in the linen closet, you heard Frankie come in through the kitchen door from the garage.

“Mouse? You home, baby?”, he called out. You heard the fridge open and him open a beer.

You shoved the rest of the bags into the closet – you’d sort it out later – and skipped into the kitchen.

As you rounded the corner, you stopped and stared at Frankie. He was covered in grease and dirt… and was standing in your clean kitchen. Your eyes looked at the dirty foot prints on the floor and the finger smudges on your fridge.

Your face must have projected the internal screaming that blasted in your brain and Frankie held his hands up.

“Baby.”, he said, taking a step towards you with a cheeky glint is his eye. “Come and give me a kiss.”

Another step towards you. Your eyes widened and your jaw tightened, as you took a step back, knowing where this was going.

“Come here, princess.”, he smiled wryly. “Missed you, baby. Gimme a kiss.”

Another step to you. And another step back from him.

“Frankie… stop.”, you warned, swallowing thick. As much as you hated the mess, seeing Frankie dirty and sweaty from working in the garage did something to you. But you would not allow him to make a mess of you or your house right now!

He flashed you a bright smile, his hands in front beckoning you. “Pretty baby… just a little grime… come on, princess, come get dirty.”

He took a quick step towards you, and you hopped back and yelped, “Stop right now or no birthday cake!”

He stopped in his tracks and pouted, hands falling to his sides. “Aw, Mouse… don’t say that! I’m gonna clean it up!”

“You better, Francisco Morales!”, you shook a finger at him. “Or no cake.”

*****

It was here – Frankie’s birthday! You’d stay up late the night before to finish decorating his cake. You wanted it ready and waiting for him when he got up, as he insisted that “cake is for breakfast on your birthday”. It wasn’t a rule you followed for yours, but you would happily make sure Frankie got his wish.

You got up before he did and made your way to the kitchen to put up a few decorations. You had him for the day, and tonight, Benny had a fight. You’d all go to the bar to celebrate Frankie afterwards – it’s what Frankie wanted.

Once the final streamer was tacked up, you heard Frankie calling you from the bedroom.

“WHERE’S MY BIRTHDAY BLOWJOB?”, he yelled.

You barked out a laugh as you hopped down from the counter. “Coming right up, Frankie!”

You walked into your room and crawled onto the bed as Frankie laid back, lazily stroking his cock.

“Getting it all fired up for you, princess…”, he grunted, voice cracking with sleep. “Take your top off… wanna see your perfect tits.”

Not one to argue with a birthday boy, you straddled one of his thighs and took it off and shook your tits; Frankie groaned and reached out his free hand to grab one. “Oh fuck…”

“When we’re done here, I’ve got breakfast all ready for you, honey.”, you cooed, as you reached and took over stroking his cock.

Frankie sat up and grabbed the back of your neck, maneuvering you in position, then he gently began pushing your head down. Your open mouth took in his weeping, angry tip, and you rolled your tongue over it and sucked.

“If breakfast is what I think it is, then you need to get moving, princess.”

*****

After Frankie unloaded into your waiting mouth, and you both cleaned yourselves up, you had your hands over Frankie’s eyes as you navigated him to the kitchen.

“No peeking until I say so!”, you laughed, making sure his eyes were closed as you scampered to the other side of the kitchen table, and Frankie nodded, eyes covered.

“Okay, look!”

Frankie opened his eyes and scanned the table; a small pile of presents and a double-layered sheet cake that read, “Happy Birthday, Frankie Baby!” across it.

“Happy birthday, baby!”, you shouted as he came around to hug you.

*****

Frankie had opened his gifts while you sat with him. When he asked how big of a cake piece he should cut for himself, he just about fell off his chair when you informed him that the whole cake was his piece if he wanted it.

Good god, did you spoil him.

“You don’t have to eat it all-“

“I’m gonna.”, he interrupted with a grin as he rubbed his hands together.

Before he got to work, he went and changed into a different, looser pair of sweatpants, and then he dug in.

Just a few bites in, he had completely forgone cutting pieces off the cake and was now eating from the tray directly.

“Jesus, this is good, Mouse.”, he said with a full mouth before swallowing, and continued with a laugh. “Can you imagine if I was trying to lose weight and you made me stuff like this?”

You gave a little laugh and came around, standing next to him.

“How’re you doing, baby? Getting full?”, you asked teasingly as you rubbed his belly.

He put his hand on top of yours and smiled at you. “Nah, princess, don’t worry... got room for the rest.”

He went to take another bite, but you stopped him. “Frankie… I wanna try something. You know that button up shirt you have with the stain on it?”

He nodded as his grin grew on his face, knowing where you were going with this. He changed his shirt, and it was already a little tight over his tummy.

“Nice knowing ya, shirt!”, Frankie said as he went back to work.

Frankie sat back and sighed. A good portion of the cake was now causing wide gaps between the buttons and pulling the shirt taut across his belly.

“One of these better pop soon or I’m not gonna be able to finish. Getting pretty tight.”, he huffed, poking one the straining buttons.

“I guess it’s a well-made shirt.” You said as you leaned on the table, next to him. Your fingers danced over the exposed skin popping through. “Come on, baby. Get back to it.”

You got up and went to get him something to drink. You heard Frankie take a deep breath, then a few ping-ing sounds, then Frankie groan, “Thank fuck!”

You turned around to see that Frankie had popped two of the central buttons, and his belly had pushed out.

“Now I got more room.”, he said as he dove back into his cake.

By the time all the cake was in Frankie – minus some of the frosting that decorated his face – he was sitting back patting his taut belly.

The only button that remained on the shirt was the one that sat on his sternum. The rest were either on the floor or table.

“Fuck me, Mouse…”, Frankie tried to stifle a small burp. “I’m full.”

You’d pulled a chair up and sat next to him and your hands gently massaged his bloated tummy, feeling how solid it felt under your fingers.

“Oof, Frankie… your tummy’s solid.”, you gasped. “You feeling okay, honey?”

“M’fine… just full of cake… best thing to be on your birthday.”, he grinned as he patted his tummy.

He tried to stand up and winced, rubbing his packed stomach. “Fucking heavy, too. Oof.”

He stood to his full height, stretched his back and he looked adorable; he had a bedhead still and frosting on his face, and was wearing a shirt only held on with one button and low-slung sweatpants. The star of the show was his big tummy, framed by the white button up.

���How do I look? Like I’m ready to party?”, Frankie asked you with a wink and a grin.

“Oh boy, do you ever!”, you laughed, taking his had and tugging him to the den.

Frankie spent the rest of day on the couch. You spent the morning portion of his couch time sitting on his lap, rubbing and massaging his tummy, helping him deal with the heavy contents of his stomach.

“You having a good birthday so far?”, you asked as you finished his rub and patted his belly.

“Mmmmmyeah….”, Frankie moaned happily as his hands found your waist, eyes shut and feeling drowsy. “Got my dick sucked by a pair of beautiful lips, opened presents, loaded up on cake, wrecked a shirt, and got a tummy rub from this smoking hot woman sitting on my lap. I can’t ask for more.”

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TAGLIST:

@harryleatherfit @harriedandharassed @theywhowriteandknowthings @toxicanonymity