#plan cul sexe

[samytbmpoursexfriends]

[kalbroncarpino]

Il fait froid, j'ai besoin de me réchauffer. Quelqu'un pour m'aider ?

[brewed-pangolin]

Early morning workout Johnny who makes it a habit to run by your house every day at the stroke of 9.

He's got your routine down to a science. He's not a creep, he just likes a schedule. As do you.

He knows you'll be out on your porch by 8:45 with your cup of coffee. Just in time to watch him stride down through your cul-de-sac like some muscle wrapped machine.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it. Giving him a courteous wave, to which he politely returns with his own and million dollar smile. Sipping your warm brew, his sunlit silhouette disappearing in the distance to turn down the next street.

Except it all changes one fateful morning.

You weren't on your balcony. No coffee mug on the table. Not a single shred of evidence you had been home at all, other than the car in the driveway.

He makes one circle. Then another.

And another.

After the fourth, he's running low on fumes and you're still nowhere in sight. And amidst the fog of a draining runners high, he miscalculates his steps and smashes chest first into your mailbox.

Hurdling down with a thud, a few choice explatives that alert the neighbors and jolt you from the sleep you had been so deep within on your couch.

"Holy shit! Are you okay?" You call out, swinging the front door open. Hair a messy mop. Shirt warn and wrinkled and a thick crease running along the circumference of your cheek.

Soap is nothing more than an apologetic mess. Battling with a mud ladened 2x4 and peppered with an array of junk mail and enveloped bills.

"M'good, lass. M'good."

"You sure? That mailbox is basically destroyed. You must have hit it pretty damn hard."

You reach down, giving him a hand up to which you are given the strongest grip you have ever felt. Playing off a wince with a smile, letting your eyes take him in while he brushes off a layer of dirt and grass.

"Aye. Bulldozed straight into it. Sorry bout tha'."

You have off his apology, taking a gander at the damage and mentally beginning to plan out the finances to fix it.

"I can get ya a new one. If ya let me."

His deep brogue interrupts your thoughts. Raising a brow and a hand to block the bright morning sun.

"No, don't worry about it. It's an easy fix."

"Nah. Please. It's the least I can do, lass. Besides. I am the one at fault ya know."

You hesitate only for a moment. The blue of his eyes mirrored by the sunlit sky behind him. Feeling a certain pull towards him, as though those morning waves had cemented a bond that was only beginning to solidify in the morning sun.

"Okay."

"Aye? I'll be back after yer shift. 530 right?"

You push aside the fact that he knows your work schedule as he reaches out for a friendly handshake. His grip less firm, more cordial. Gentle, even.

"Yeah."

--

After an unremarkable shift that you wish to push deep into your memories, you sit out on your balcony with a refreshing drink in hand. Taking in the hard determination of your mailbox destroying neighbor as he singlehandedly hammers it into the ground.

You had offered to help, to which he emphatically responded with a solid 'no'.

"You've got good taste."

Your seal of approval is all he needs. Taking a welcome cold beer from your hands with that million dollar smile and a final hammering to cement the pillar into the soil.

"Thought it'd fit the style a yer home. Glad ya like it."

You begin to realize this runner is a man who misses nothing. His choice of mailbox color not too dissimilar to the one of your preferred coffee mug. The shade matching almost perfectly, only shifting in hue by the extravagant sunset.

"You hungry?"

Your politeness thankfully overshadows the sudden flush erupting within your chest. You'd blame it on the alcohol if he asked, but you know he'd see right through it.

Dinner starting innocently at the table, shifting seamlessly towards the living room and finishing the main course in your bedroom. Coming to a close in a cacophony of growls, moans, and the aroma of sex.

The pièce de résistance being the loud creak of the bed, falling to the floor in a heap of laughs and entangled bodies as he broke your walls and nestled himself into the chasm of your soul.

Under the Blue Moonlight Masterlist

Drabbles Masterlist

[lipglossanon]

October 29th

Kink: Spanking

Pairing: Best friend’s dad!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, spanking, age gap (reader is early 20’s with Leon being early 40’s), teasing, degradation, name calling, kissing, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, cheating

not proofread

The Kennedy’s live in a cul-de-sac so there’s always a ton of trick or treaters on Halloween. Your friend, Kirsty, invited you over to help hand out candy. That was the plan. Unfortunately, her boyfriend got caught up in some mess and she has to leave to go bail him out. 

It’s why you’re now hanging out in an empty house wearing a fairly modest Freddy Krueger costume. Nothing to give parents a heart attack when you open the door to drop candy into their kiddos’ little plastic jack o’lanterns; but, you have enough leg showing that it’s not exactly subtle either. 

It must be why Mr. Kennedy is giving you the side eye when he strolls in off of work. You’re relaxing on the couch, candy bowl nearly empty on the table in front of you, when he sits down with a spare cushion between you. 

“You two haven’t left yet?”

You close your phone and turn your attention to him. It would be a lie to say you’ve never thought your friend’s dad was hot, but he’s never looked at you twice so it’s just something you’ve kept to yourself. However, now, his eyes linger on your legs, drifting up to your thighs then your breasts—lingering on your cleavage until he flicks his blue eyes up to your face. 

It all happens in the span of a couple of seconds, but it feels like a lifetime. The spit in your mouth dries up when you finally lock eyes. 

Clearing your throat, your nerves get the best of you, “N-no, uhm, Kirsty actually—she left. To pick up her boyfriend.”

He hums, relaxing a little into the couch and spreading his legs. Your eyes are drawn to the movement and you can see the outline off his cock. 

“It’s impolite to stare, honey. Don’t you have any manners?”

“Sorry, Mr. Kennedy.”

He grins and it makes your heart race. 

“I-I should probably get going,” you fidget with the hem of your dress, realizing exactly how short it is. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Aww honey, that’s just rude,” he narrows his eyes.

This draws you up short and your brows pinch together in confusion, “Rude how?”

“You’re not even going to wait on my daughter to get home before leaving?”

You give a minute shake of your head, “She’ll understand.”

He clicks his tongue, a hot palm coming down on your thigh and making you jump. 

“I don’t think so, you can sit right here until she gets back. Keep me company.”

Biting your bottom lip, your clit throbs at his rough tone. 

“I think I should go,” you murmur, eyes dropping back down to his half hard cock. 

“Such a misbehaving girl,” he sighs out before shifting closer to you. “Guess I’ll need to rectify that.”

You gasp in surprise when he grabs your biceps and manhandles you facedown over his lap. Your dress rides up with the movement, showing off the cute panties you wore tonight. His palm comes down on your ass and you yelp like a struck dog. 

“Now, are you going to behave?” He asks, voice rich and deep, making you press the dough of your thighs together. 

Gathering up what little awareness you have, you mewl, “Yes, yes, I-I will.”

He chuckles, but doesn’t say anything. He rains slaps across your ass, spanking each cheek in the same spot until the sharp stings turn into a dull burn. After the first few, you can’t hold back your gasps and whines. Slick drools from your cunt and embarrassment burns hot in your belly. 

You can feel Mr. Kennedy’s chubbed cock underneath your pelvis and it makes your mouth water. Losing count of his slaps, you only notice he stops when his hand cups your pussy from behind.

“I don’t think my lesson’s sinking in, sweetheart,” he mocks, fingers drumming against your panty covered slit. “Think I need to go a bit further, really drive the point home.”

As the word drive leaves his lips, he presses his fingers into your hole, panties stretching uncomfortably as he pushes the fabric into your clenching heat. He chuckles, mean and low, grinding his digits in until you’re whining and shifting in his lap. 

“Please,” you moan. “I’ll behave, sir.”

He groans and pulls back his hand to slap the wet gusset of your panties, “There we go, knew that sweet mouth of yours knew some manners.”

He wrenches your panties down and off, digits going back to press into your drooling hole. Spreading your legs as much as you can, you whine when he roughly finger fucks your pussy.  Growling, he slides them out, fingers wet where he grips your hips and wrangles you back onto your front. Guiding your movement, he situates you until you’re seated over his legs. 

“Gonna fuck your wet pussy, honey,” he grunts, unbuckling and unzipping his slacks before pulling his cock free. “Show that little hole who’s in charge.”

Your eyes flutter when he slaps his cock down onto your clit, a quick plap plap plap that has his tip drooling precum on your swollen bud. Moaning, you angle your hips and slide yourself down on his cock, pussy walls stretching around his thick length.

“Anyone could walk in and see me stuffing this slutty pussy,” he laughs in your ear. “Such a little home wrecker.” 

Your cunt clamps down on his cock, clit pulsing from his words. Tucking your face into his shoulder, your body feels hot all over. His hands slip under your dress to grab fistfuls of your ass, skin stinging at the contact. 

“C’mon be a good cocksleeve,” he croons nastily. “Work that fat pussy up and down my cock.”

Mewling, you slowly begin to bounce on his lap, fucking yourself on his dick. It doesn’t take long until you’re moaning and panting, riding his cock hard and fast, your hand shifting down between your bodies so you can rub your clit. 

“Yeah, that’s a good girl, make yourself cum for me,” he groans, head leaning back against the couch so he can watch more easily. “Rub that slippery little clit, honey.”

“Mr. Kennedy,” you moan, thighs burning from the constant motion while your pussy flutters and grips onto his cock. 

With his free hand, he yanks the neck of your shirt down until your breasts spill out for his greedy eyes. 

“God, look at those fucking tits,” his cock flexes inside your puffy cunt. “Fuck, keep working my cock cause I’m about to shoot a thick load in this soft little pussy.”

Arousal is a steady thrum in your body, cunt slick and greedy as you ride your best friend’s dad on their family couch. Your fingers quicken on your clit, pussy humping down on his cock faster and faster. Leaning forward, he begins to taste your nipples, sucking and licking the stiff buds with a loud groan. 

It’s enough to push you over the edge, climax whiting out your brain as you cry out. You sit heavily in his lap, cock buried to the hilt in your snug pussy, milking and clenching down on his fat length. 

“God that’s it, take it, fuck gonna creampie your sweet little hole,” he pants, rutting up into you until he spills his load with a grunt. 

Hot spurts of cum fill your pussy to the brim, slowly leaking out around his cock. Shivering, you rock your hips back and forth, the aftershocks of your orgasm zapping through your body. Pulling you in close, he kisses you messily, tongue licking past your slack lips until you’re kissing back just as eagerly. 

You sit in Mr. Kennedy’s lap, his cock half hard inside your sore pussy, while you makeout on the couch. His hands run all over your body, grabbing your ass and hips before running his thumbs across your nipples only to repeat the process over and over again. It has you squirming against him, body keyed up and turned on, until he’s fucking up into you again. 

“Fucking slut,” he rumbles against your mouth, cock squelching with every thrust in and out of your pussy. “You’re making me cum in you again. What a selfish girl.”

Mind blissed out, you only hum in response, kissing him again while he groans into your mouth. This time the sex is quick and dirty, both of you so sensitive that you each cum within seconds of the other. Your pussy milks another load from his throbbing cock, his balls flexing as he pumps more cum into your overly stuffed hole. 

“God, breeding a tight little pussy never gets old,” he sighs, head flopping back onto the couch. “Gonna keep me company the rest of the night.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Kennedy,” you nuzzle into his neck and he slaps your ass gently. 

“Good girl.”

[noodlewritez]

Dirty thief

Pairings: Carl Grimes x Savior!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Negan's kid!reader, hate sex (But they actually hate each other so no kissy kissy stuff), really gross, sloppy oral (M!recieving), cussing

It was 3:39 AM. You throw your rope over the side fence of Alexandria. Sneaking your way around to the armory, unaware of the blue eye watching you from across the street.

Earlier that day, you had gone with your dad's right hand man, Dwight as he was picking up supplies. You saw the armory, looking through the door window, seeing the guns, the gorgeous detail on the guns. Knowing your dad, Negan, wouldn't let you have a gun, you planned to take one, in the middle of the night when no one was awake. You knew they had guard watchers for the main gate and the main gate only so you had to go through the woods to get to the side. You land in a cul-de-sac, running lowly so no one could suspect anything.

You make it to the armory, slamming your body harshly but quietly against the door, popping it open. You're suddenly on the ground, tackled by a tall teenager, someone around your age. You could barely make out any features, the only recognizable trait being the hat you saw on the leader's son that day. This should be easy.

You get up and punch him in the jaw then he pushes you to the ground. "You fucking thief!” He whispers harshly at you, pinning your wrists to the wood floor. You kick him in the hip, getting up and attempting to run before he grabs your leg and slides you under him, straddling you now.

You notice the bulge in his jeans and you smirk and stop fighting back, letting him keep your wrists pinned. "Are you fucking enjoying this?" You spit harshly. His eyes widen but he quickly tries to hide his surprise that you noticed the state he's in.

"Shut the fuck up." He growls. "Tell me that all you want, but I'm not the one who's harder than a fucking rock, now am I? You fucking like that you pinned me down and you sure like the idea of us fucking so cut to the chase and do it already." You spit. He contemplates, still pinning you down, straddling you then rolls his eyes. "You better make this fucking quick."

He releases your wrists, standing up and unbuckling his belt while leaning against the nearest wall. You follow, waiting for him to fish himself out of his own jeans. You roll your eyes as you get fed up. "Jesus fucking Christ, do I have to do everything for you?" You dig his hard, angry cock out of his jeans, sliding them down to his ankles. He takes control, his fingers, digging into your hair as you take him in your mouth. "Fuck, do I have to do this everytime to shut you up?" He pants.

Your spit drips down onto the wood floor and down the throat he was using, soaking your shirt. You fingers hook around the back of his legs, pushing him further down your throat, now feeling him deep in your throat, your nose now buried in his loins. Now, you can fucking taste his sweet precum as he whines, moaning. His hands fasten his movement on your head, up and down his hard length, throwing his head back. "God...dammit..." He gasps, he was getting close.

You pull off of him, standing up to remove your shorts and your soaked panties and shirt when he picks your right thigh up, his other hand pumping his cock and rubbing it against your clit, teasing you. "You said you wanted this to be quick." You try not to whine at the sensation, scratching his back harshly, possibly drawing blood. He inhales sharply and slams into you, feeling all eight inches inside your spongy insides. He lifts up by your other thigh, pressing your whole body against the wall, biting our shoulder, making you hiss.

He starts pumping into you relentlessly, utterly using you to get himself off. You pant and squeeze your eyes closed as you try not to make a pleasurable sound, not giving him what he wants but god, the way he was pounding right on your spot. You moan, scratching his back, digging into his back. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." You chant, getting dizzy as you feel your orgasm building itself up.

You dig your nails into his back and squeeze your eyes shut once more, waiting for the orgasm to hit you as there was no sign of him stopping. He feels you clenching and slows his place, smirking. Your eyes open. "What... the fuck?!" You pull back, looking him in the eyes with an angry look. "Oh...I'm sorry, did i stop something?" He smirks. "Want me to keep going?" He coos mockingly.

"Keep fuckin' going, Grimes." You growl and with that, his hips start snapping against yours once again. You throw your head back against the wood walls and bite. "If only you looked as good as you fucked, Grimes, Christ...." You whine as his pace picks up. "This is all your fucking good for. Just a hole for me to fuck." He pants, looking down at you sucking him in, the sight getting him off more than it fucking should. You feel your orgasm crawl back closer to you, your hands finding his scalp and pulling his hair.

"God...."

He smirks, finding pleasure in you trying to hide your sounds. "Fuck, anyone else know what a little slut you are, or do you save it just for me?" He growls in your ear and fuck, that's what breaks you. You cum all over him, coating him, you throw your head back, pulling his hair tighter in between your fingers as you moan loudly.

"God, you are just a fucking slut, liking it when I insult you." he smirks, pounding non-stop until he groans and leans his weight on you, spilling into you. "Fuck...Fuck." He moans.

He pulls out, both of you standing on wobbly legs now. You pull your shorts on, strutting out of the door as confident as you can muster as you pull your shirt on.

You don't see him again until Dwight takes you for the ride to another supply pick-up. You get out of the truck to see him except this time clothed. You flush as you see him, walking towards him when Dwight wasn't looking. "You're limping." He bites back a smile. You roll your eyes, that's all you need.

"Until next time?" He looks you up and down then winks at you.

Next time?

[bangaveragewhitewine]

Hearts are wild creatures

Dad!Steve Harrington x Mom!Reader

Halloween, 1999

A simple worn-before couple’s costume and drinks with friends. Kissing like teenagers and hushed voices. You and Steve, a night to make up for lost time before Halloween-morning with your two little girls.

Takes place two years after soft slow, morning glow

Word count: 6.4k

Contents: Parent!Steve & Reader. Explicit (18+) - oral (f!receiving), p-in-v sex (reader is on birth control, but wrap it up, friends!). Breeding kink. Parental domesticity - Steve & Reader have two kids, mention of a difficult pregnancy, sickeningly sweet domestic fluff.

Author’s note: This started as soft Halloween-flavoured domesticity and then I imagined Steve dressed as Johnny Castle… we couldn’t not go there. 

Thank you @specialagentmonkey for proofreading and being wonderful. And for watching ST from the start with me! And thank YOU, dear reader, for being here. I hope you enjoy it!

Tucked away in the Chicago suburbs, your little house matches its companions in the cosy cul de sac; the residents of Elm Crescent had transformed their homes and gardens into a Halloween Wonderland as exciting for the adults as it was for the kids. You knew you had made the right choice buying your first home here. 

The garden has been prepared for a night of costumed trick-or-treaters, the path flanked by two homemade sheet-ghosts and leaves raked in vain leaving the green lawn clear for those that fell since yesterday afternoon. Four carved pumpkins guard the house from their spot on the front steps, arranged from largest to littlest - one for each of you.

Inside, tissue-paper ghosties with wobbly marker-drawn smiles made by tiny hands float on lengths of thread, seasonal art projects take pride of place in the kitchen, and paper bats guard the stairs from their hanging place on the spindles. Nothing too scary to frighten a four and nearly-two-year-old, all brightly childish orange and purple and green, smiling instead of scaring. 

Halloween fell perfectly in ‘99 - a Sunday night for tricks and treats meant that you and Steve could make grown-up plans on Saturday. A simple worn-before couple’s costume, a competent and willing babysitter, and drinks with friends in a too-loud bar that you all left early to get pizza and a cab home. It was later than you had stayed up or out in months, maybe years, and you both felt almost giddy with excitement. Far from the late and boozy Halloween nights of your early years as a couple, it was exactly the night you and Steve had wanted. 

Back home, your Johnny and Baby costumes were barely folded before you crawled into bed together and kissed like off-the-leash teenagers, keeping your voices and giggles low while your babies slumbered peacefully down the hall. 

After paying the babysitter from across the street, making sure she got home safe, neither you nor Steve could resist a peek at the two sleeping girls when you got home, both sentimental (and a little broody again) as you held each other gazing at their little dreaming faces. Beth with her bunny-teddy pillowing her cheek (reminding you to wash it soon with lavender detergent and steaming hot water) and Ava, sweet little Ava, starfishing in her crib. Your tiny girl takes up so much space in your hearts, pulls attention in every room she enters with her big brown eyes and honey-blonde hair; she is your little cherub. 

You had missed them on your night out, tried not to count the minutes since you had left or until you got home to them. Steve had felt the same, but you knew they were safe and (hopefully) sleeping. So, you tried and succeeded in letting yourselves be distracted by your brilliant little group of friends, strong drinks and each other - all of which came easily, with warm cheeks and loud laughter, stolen kisses while your friends pretended to take offence that you loved each other more than them. 

Now, at home in your cosy little bedroom, Steve’s hand skates upward, feeling the dips and curves of your body as your lips lock in a needy kiss. Smiling against your mouth, he greedily swallows the soft noise pulled from your throat. His hand finds its home, cupping your breast through soft shell-pink satin, as the other holds your hand pinned to the sunshine-coloured cotton sheet.

Two kids later and he is still utterly obsessed with you, in love with all of you - especially the bumps and marks of motherhood that came with each perfect girl. You had spent most of the night tucked to his side, pretty pink contrasting his tight black shirt and jeans. Robin had tried to sit between you at one point and you had been hauled onto the warm sturdy throne of Steve’s lap, his chin on your shoulder as he argued with his best friend over whether they should do karaoke or shots next. Except for quests to the bar for more drinks and a few trips to the bathroom, you hadn’t been without his warm touch since you left the house. He would have held your hand while you peed if he could, would have accompanied you to the bar except your friends forced you to be apart ‘for five fuckin’ minutes, dude.’

His lips skate lower, abandoning your kiss-swollen lips to nibble your jaw and seek out that spot on your neck while his thumb presses firmly against your nipple. Your brow creases in pleasure when he finds it; the quiet gasp ‘Steve’ is whispered into his hair, edging toward a whimper. 

“Mmhm? M’here, baby.” Tipsy from a lower alcohol tolerance and drunk on you, Steve’s voice is hot against your neck. 

Your fingers wrap over his own as he presses you into the mattress, his black Calvin Klein’s straining with need, with want. Your own underwear have been damp since his hand settled on your thigh in the cab at the start of the night. 

Your fingers slide into Steve’s hair, directing him back to your lips as his thigh slots snugly into the apex of your spread legs. 

“Yeah? There?” he murmurs, smiling cockily.

It had been far too long since you had time alone like this; too tired after work or parenting, one or both of you needed to dry tears and check for monsters after a bad dream just as hands began to wander beneath the covers. 

Your hips roll, electrified, grinding on the firm bulk of his thigh. “Please, Stevie…” 

You both know you could get off like this and if he thought that was what you really wanted - what you needed - Steve would let you. He would gladly watch you come undone, guide your hips and be whatever you need him to be. But neither had forgotten your hot whisper against his ear as Eddie carried a tray of drinks and shots back to your table earlier; the way your lips grazed Steve’s neck as you so quietly asked him to fuck you into the mattress when you got home. 

You had watched his eyes blow wide and pressed a rose-pink kiss to his cheek (warm and blushing) while your friends placed bets on when Baby Harrington the Third would be coming. 

Steve peels himself back, kneeling on the bed as he palms himself at the sight of you. You feel saliva pool under your tongue as you rake your eyes from his thighs, over that substantial bulge, and up his furry chest. He is nothing short of breathtaking, and Steve thinks just the same of you. 

Your fingers slip over the nude lace of your underwear, biting your lip when you brush over the damp spot visible even in the low light from the bedside lamp. You don’t play long, already too worked up, and push your panties down toward your thighs with a lift of your hips. 

Steve takes over, like a baton-pass, and eases your legs up against his chest with your feet against his shoulder. Your underwear is slipped off and thrown carelessly behind him, somewhere on the floor. He presses kisses to your calf, a curving path up over your ankle and the top of your foot before each leg is laid down gently on either side of his spread knees. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows before pushing yourself up to sit and meet Steve for another kiss; it is smiling and sweet and a little dirty. Your fingers hook into his waistband before taking a greedy handful of his unfairly pert behind, making him laugh against your mouth. 

“You going to give me what I want?” you murmur, kissing his chin. Your other hand slips down the front side, fingers wrapping around to squeeze his hard length as you look up through your lashes. 

“Anything. Everything.” Steve’s eyes flutter closed and he cups your cheek in one huge hand, blindly bringing you back in for another kiss. 

Your voices are just loud enough for each other to hear in the golden glow of your bedroom. You miss the days when you could be loud, but wouldn’t change it - take a day trip to the past perhaps, when you didn’t have to restrain your desire to a quick fuck after dark, or during nap time while the washer and dryer run in the background like white noise,

Maybe in a few weeks, before the craziness of the holidays, you can stow away to a hotel for a night or two and cash in on the babysitting offer from Aunties Robin and Nancy. 

But tonight is perfect nonetheless. It’s perfect when you shove Steve’s briefs down his thighs and when his fingers skate over your back to undo your bra (before it joins your underwear and his on the floor). You lay back, taking Steve with you, and hook your leg over his hip and bring him as close as you can all over again. 

All there is right now is you and Steve. You’re well-practised enough to be quiet. 

Covetous hands palm over hips, fingers thread into hair, pulling each other close and closer still. Steve finds his home between your thighs and leans over, dipping to kiss you as his fingers press and tease, push inside you with care. His fingers stretch just right and curl up to seek out the place that makes you drool. 

“Lemme have a little taste?” he asks against your mouth, smiling when a whine catches in your throat. “Yeah? Can I?” 

“So greedy.” Your cheeks are warm and crease when his smile sets you off. 

“I am. I can’t get enough of you.” His straight white teeth nip your lower lip, a bite he soothes with his tongue. “I think you love it…” 

You gasp as his fingers curl again before he withdraws them, and watch as he licks your wetness from them. 

Steve winks as his lips trail lips lower, over your chest and the softness of your tummy, your hips and the places on your thighs that jiggle a little bit. Steve presses a feathery kiss to your swollen bud before licking out his tongue to part your lips

Steve’s prone to getting sidetracked down there - not that you would ever complain about your husband who loves to go down on you - but you have been thinking of being railed by him since last Wednesday. 

The begged-for ‘little taste’ quickly becomes so much more.

There’s nothing ‘little’ about Steve - not his hands or his thighs, his biceps or his manhood, or his heart. His appetite for you certainly is not little or lacking either. With his hand on your thigh, the other on the cheek of your ass, he makes your thighs tremble with a few skilful licks and the soft suck of his mouth. His nose rests and nudges against the pudge of your mound, darkened eyes fixed on you as he flicks his tongue.

He watches how your jaw drops, the crease in between your brows. You feel dizzy, anchored only by the weight of his hand spreading your thigh higher, wider for him. 

The burning want in your belly flames hot and bright as Steve buries his face between your thighs. His tongue presses firm and flat, encouraged when your fingers slide into his hair to keep him ‘right there, oh!’ 

Silenced by your own hand, you feel that white-hot tight-winding feeling as his fingers slide home again. The sound of his wet mouth on you sounds so loud, the same volume as the throb of your heart, the blood rushing in your ears. A whimper of Steve’s name is stifled, a high choked-up noise in your throat as his scalp burns from tugging fingers. 

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, amped up and tightly wound after a night of teasing and wanting, and the long groping make-out and grind in the kitchen after the babysitter left.

Steve’s solid weight keeps your hips low to the bed, even when your back arches sharply.  An expert at your pleasure now, seeking it out and making you see stars every time, he keeps up the pace and pressure, with his fingers and tongue. He knows what you need, how you like it - never stale, never disappointing. 

Your body attempts to curl up on itself, feeling too good. Slowly, carefully, Steve drags his mouth to kiss your shaky thigh before making his way back to lie alongside you. His damp fingers, wrap around his diamond-hard length to give some sort of relief. 

Glowing and giggly, you gaze up at him and drag Steve in for a kiss. “Knew you were a greedy boy.” Your voice is quietly breathy, shaking with that post-orgasm wobble as he laughs against your mouth. 

“Got carried away. Sue me.” His voice is a low murmur. 

Cupping his cheek, you skate your thumb along the bone. He’s so gorgeous, gold-toned in the nighttime light. Your fingertips brush the moles on his cheek as Steve kisses you again; beneath the musk of you on his tongue, you can still taste the lingering whiskey notes from your night out.

Pulled right up against him, you feel the hard and soft of Steve’s body, the fur of his chest and thighs. He found two grey hairs on his chest earlier in the year which almost caused an existential crisis - only solved with your tweezers and a tonne of kisses and promises that you would still adore him when every hair on his body was shiny silver. 

“You wanna be on your back or front?” he asks, squeezing your side.

The question makes that inferno in your tummy begin to burn hotter again. You think of how good it feels when he’s behind you, thighs slapping against the back of your own, the way he stretches you and hits that place deep inside. And yet, you need to see him tonight - you are so dreamily in love with him that not having his lips on yours might just make you expire. 

“Back. Pass me that cushion?” 

As you get comfy, Steve takes himself in hand again and settles himself between your legs. His non-busy hand runs through his hair - still a glorious mane into his thirties, despite a few shorter cuts over the years - and you are reminded of the pretty-boy you fell for almost a decade ago.

Steve catches you smiling and palms your leg as you settle on either side of his hips. He matches the little grin and dips forward to kiss you, nuzzling your noses together. 

“What’s got you smilin’ like that, huh?” he asks, running the head of his cock through your wetness before tapping it at the top. 

He watches your lashes flutter, the way you bite your lip. 

“Just thinkin’ about you, handsome,” you murmur, “You always make me smile.” 

He grins and kisses you again, both feeling like young loves again despite the aches and pains and the mortgage and the two kids sleeping down the hall. “I fuckin’ love you,” Steve whispers. 

“I love you,” you murmur back, running your fingers into your love’s hair as the other hand grabs his wrist. “Please? Been waiting all night, Stevie…”

His lips melt the put-on pout and together you guide him inside. The stretch of him has got easier over the years, well practised at love-making and fucking like rabbits alike. He’s gentle when he needs to be, rougher when you both want it like that. 

“I’ve got you, baby. Sorry for making my girl wait,” he murmurs as he slides all the way in.

Eyes fluttering closed at the stretch-and-fill, Steve starts off with a slow grind that makes your jaw drop. He murmurs quiet swears at how warm-wet you feel around him, squeezing him tight as his hips draw halfway back before going all the way in again. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, and braces one hand by your head with the other splayed wide on your side. Your hips lift with him, legs propped high to open you up wider for him. 

For a scant second, you want to ask if his back hurts - he pulled something at basketball drills last week and you had massaged on Tiger Balm morning and night for a few days until the twinging stopped. The hard flick of his hips makes the question vanish from your mind, his cock dragging and hitting just right. 

“Oh god,” you whisper-gasp, jaw hanging open.

“I know, baby. M’sorry it’s been so long. M’a bad husband, huh? Leaving my poor wife needy and un-fucked.” His voice is hot and rough against your cheek, breath tickling your ear as he finds his rhythm. “Gonna make it up to you, yeah?” 

You squeeze the back of his neck, giggling. “Make it up to me all you want.” He palms over your hip, hiking it higher before leaning over you again. “Fuck, Steve. Feels so good.”

Your eyes dip to the gold chain hanging around his neck, watching how it sways in rhythm to how he’s fucking you. You bring your hand to where it rests against his neck, guiding Steve’s mouth to yours again. His breath huffs hot against your lips, tongues sliding in a dirty kiss. 

The wet click of parting lips sounds loud in Steve’s ears when you break away, moaning his name against his chin when his thrusts hit deeper, harder. 

“Shhh, I know you wanna be loud, sweetheart. I know you feel good.” His voice is like lava dripping as he kisses your neck. 

You pinch your lips together, the moan caught in your throat comes out as a high hum. 

Steve is so hard. His pants felt too tight all night; half hard since he saw you in your little pink dress. It only got worse, harder not to ask you to meet him in the bathroom, when you sat on his lap and toyed with the back of his hair, whispered in his ear before slipping into conversation with Nancy about something totally different. 

The slick-tight-hot feeling, the way you pulse around his cock, makes that tense coil of pleasure low in his gut wind tighter. His chest feels like 

You can’t help but fall a little more in love with him, hypnotised by the swinging gold chain, the circles he rubs against your hip and the way his styled hair falls over his forehead.

Squeezing your thighs around him, you bring your legs up and tilt your hips higher. Steve adjusts the stance of his knees and slows his thrusts to a deep grind, the tip of him brushing your cervix. You can feel all of him pressed right up against you, inside and out. 

“Oh fuck.. fuck, Steve.” Your voice is thin and strained, like a thread about to snap. 

“Yeah, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispers, biting down on his own lower lip. “God, you’re so pretty. So sexy.” 

The air in your bedroom feels humid and heavy, like a thunderstorm, waiting for lightning to crack and split the sky, waiting for a downpour. 

Steve moves his hand from your hip, gliding over your pelvis to feel how he makes you bulge just a bit before his fingers begin circling your sticky-damp clit. Just quick enough, firm enough, mean enough. 

Your back arches, quiet voice babbling with incoherence at how intense it feels. “I’mgonnacomeohgodstevestevefuck…”

“Come on baby, come for me. Let me feel it,” he pants, hitting deep and hard. He’s so close, barely holding on to himself. 

You hold him tight to you as you come, fingers tugging in his hair as the other hand claws and digs into the meat at the top of his ass. 

Overwhelmed, a sweet shock of release hits you like lightning and opens the floodgates. 

Steve holds you just as close, anchored to each other. Whispering hot words of praise against your mouth, he gazes into your watery eyes sparkling with tears - he makes you feel that good. 

“Oh baby, I’ve got you. You okay?” he asks, so tender. He leans over you, wrapping his arm beneath your lower back as the other braces his weight along his forearm. One huge hand cups your face and wipes your tears. There’s mascara smudged beneath your eyes, and you look beautiful. 

There’s that smile he loves; wobbly and lovely. A giggle-sob bubbles from those sweet kiss-bitten lips. “Fuck, Steve..” 

“I know, sweetheart. I know. Want me to pull out, is it too much?” 

You shake your head against the duvet, your hair a mess. “No, no. Don’t... Wanna feel you.” Your voice is slurred, love drunk. 

That makes him throb. He kisses you again and runs his nose along yours. “M’close,” he whispers, beginning a slow-dragging thrust inside your soaked and still-fluttering body. 

You can see it, how close he is, and feel it in how his rhythm has faltered. His brows pinch, smearing wet kisses to your shoulder as he tucks his face into your neck. 

“I’ve got you, Stevie. You’re so good,” you whisper, stroking the back of his neck. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.” 

A grunting groan is smothered against your shoulder as Steve stills and shudders on top of you. His hips pump slow and hard as he comes inside with your name on his lips, making you shiver too. 

His weight settles, sinking you into the mattress in the best way. This is exactly what you had missed so much. As much as you fervently adore actually having sex with Steve Harrington, there is something so special about lying with him in the afterglow. 

Sweat-sticky and breathless, you stroke through his hair and press your lips into his hair. The hairspray scent lingers, clinging to the scent of shampoo beneath the smoke from cigarettes bummed from his bad-influence-best-friend Eddie. There was something about the smoke-tinged kisses that made you feel extra feral for him on the way home. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” you whisper, laughing softly when his sigh tickles your neck. 

“But you’re so comfortable.” 

Lifting his head, Steve smiles all pink-cheeked and dozy. “So beautiful too,” he murmurs, inching forward to kiss you. 

The wet noise from below makes you both laugh like teenagers and you take your turn to hide your face. 

“You take your birth control today?” he asked, easing himself up and out of you slowly, carefully. His eyes can’t look away from where he drips from you. 

“Mhm. Sorry, big boy.” You grab a tissue from the bedside table, wiping yourself gently before you mess up the duvet cover. You had both agreed, after having Ava, to wait a few years before adding to your nest again - it had been Steve’s idea after your less-than-easy second pregnancy. For a man with a bit of a breeding kink and a dream of a family the size of a field hockey team, he was wonderfully considerate. 

He kisses you again before standing to find his pyjama pants; he leaves out one of his sweaters and a pair of shorts for you too - sleeping naked was a dangerous game with two small kids. 

Clean-faced and exhausted and happy, you curl up together in bed after a few sleepy kisses and a playful argument about who would get up with Ava in the morning. As if Steve would ever miss a chance to let you sleep and steal the morning smiles from your youngest all for himself.

“You won’t even hear me sneak. M’a ninja,” he murmurs tiredly against the back of your neck and you can feel his smile. 

“If you say so, ninja boy,” you mumble back, dragging your joined hands up for one more kiss before slipping into a deep, peaceful slumber.

Sunday. Halloween. The best day of the year for your little girls - since the last best day (their Daddy’s birthday in late July). 

Ever a fan of Halloween, and autumn in general, you always wanted to bring your girls up to be excited for Halloween as soon as September began. Still so little, with Play-Dough minds, they had begun to catch on to your excitement and followed soaked it up. Beth especially, four with an expansive imagination, was excited about dressing up and eating candy and watching “Hogus Pogus” with you after dinner. 

Your parental body clocks ring at seven despite the late night. 

You wake to Steve creeping out, blindly bumping into the dresser with a quiet ‘shit’ as Ava calls out for him. This morning his presence was required to brush fat tears from the little one’s pink cheeks and kiss the damp paths they left behind until she was smiling again. 

You hear the youngest babbling as Steve carries her quietly downstairs, hoping she won’t wake you or Beth. The throb of a minor hangover and post-sex ache drags you back under the covers and into a light doze. 

You have another thirty minutes and some change until Beth wakes and realises she misses you, deciding to sneak in before even letting her Dad know she was awake - she wanted to see you hear about your Halloween party with her uncle and aunties and remind you that the best day had finally arrived.

The creaky hinge on the door alerts you - a reminder to ask Steve to show you how to oil it properly this time - you peek an eye open to watch the four-year-old sneak over to stand by the bed on her Dad’s side. She would be content enough with just seeing you, comforted in the knowledge that you were home to spend the day together; her face lights up when she spies you peeking over Steve’s pillow, your hand raised in a little wave. 

“Hi Mommy,” she whispers, dimples showing her delight. 

“Hi Bethie,” you whisper back, beckoning her into Steve’s vacant spot next to you. 

You open the covers to let your big girl in. She folds herself into you for a hug, her head against your chest. 

“I missed you. I missed you sooooo much,” she says, face turned up to look at you like she is a sunflower and you’re the sun. 

“I missed you too, baby.” Her little face cupped in one hand, you press kisses to her forehead and cheeks, her little nose. 

You make a tent big enough for two beneath the covers, lying on your sides facing each other until your giggling makes it too warm and your tummies rumble for the special Halloween breakfast you promise. (You curse yourself a little for that last glass of wine, trying to remember what exactly you had promised until Beth reminds you about the pumpkin-shaped pancakes). 

Wrapped in your soft dressing gown, you follow Beth down the stairs, hearing Ava’s happy-baby babble in the kitchen as she eats her half-banana breakfast appetizer. The decorations look a little silly and rough around the edges in the morning light, but still, your little home feels like a perfect pocket of happiness.

Beth jumps into the kitchen with an excited-but-not-very-spooky ‘BOO!’ for Steve. 

When she sees him, nursing coffee and Advil with a messy bedhead and tired smile, he quickly becomes Beth’s golden light source as her beaming face turns to him. 

“Woah! You scared me!” he says, clutching his heart before dipping to scoop her up. 

You try not to laugh at his Dad-groan and the cracking crunch of his knees as he stands, instead shuffling in your slippers to Ava in her highchair. 

Her hands bash on the tray, smushing banana with fierce excitement as you peck kisses all over her pretty cherubic face. 

Beth leans her head against Steve, playing with the string of his hastily thrown-on hoodie as she tells him about the dream she had and how he has to take lots of pictures of her costume later to send to your extended family. 

Spotting his bare feet on the kitchen tiles, you slip into the laundry room to find a pair of socks for him to wear. Resistant to ‘old man slippers’, you tuck them into his front pocket as you peck his lips and move him and Beth away from the counter so you can start on breakfast. You steal a sip of his coffee, wrinkling your nose at the lack of sweetness before shooing him and Beth to sit with Ava at the table. 

“What was Uncle Teddy dressed as?” Beth asks, head against Steve’s chest so she looks at him upside down. 

“He was a vampire. But he just wore his normal clothes and some silly teeth.” Steve rolled his eyes dramatically - he had seen vampire Eddie all the way back in high school when he was dealing instead of drinking, and again when you all used to drink and party the night away in your early twenties. Yeah you had dressed as Baby and Johnny before, but you had all boo’ed at Eddie when he showed up in the ultimate low-effort costume. 

“Oh. Okay. Vampires is sca’wry though, Daddy!” Beth reminds him. “You and Mommy didn’t go as scar'wies. What about Bobin?” 

You laugh quietly at the nickname Robin has had since Beth started speaking, and her simple way of humbling Steve about his own costume (and yours). 

“Robin dressed up as Elton John. You know the song you like, Benny & the Jets? She dressed up as the guy who sings that song. And Can You Feel The Love Tonight. He sings that too.” Steve is a wee bit distracted, nibbling the chunk of crushed banana offered from Ava’s fist.

“Bobin was Simba?” Beth’s eyes are wide, excited. She doesn’t seem bothered about her lack of scary costume, only yours.

“No babe. Elton John, he’s a singer. She had big glasses on and a sparkly jacket. You know he sings... Um. ‘Rocketmaaan, burning up his fuel out there alone..’ you like that one. I’ll find the tape later.”

Ava squeals in delight when he sings, so Steve indulges her a little more.

As you mix up pancake batter (adding a little food colouring to make them orange like pumpkins), and take two Advil for the dull throb in your head, the soundtrack of Beth and Steve’s conversation makes you smile, interspersed with Ava’s chirpy shouts for attention, her little contributions to the conversation. 

You glance back at the little tableau of Beth on Steve’s lap, his hood pulled over his messy hair (a pair of sunglasses and he would look just the same as your hungover mornings in your first apartment together). His spare hand strokes Ava’s hair, twirling the crushed baby-curls at the back of her head and tickling her chin and neck to make her giggle. 

Beth joins you after a little while, standing on a chair to help mix the batter and supervise your pancake-making with little bits of commentary. 

“That one looks a w’ittle bit squished, Mommy. Daddy can have that one.” 

“Thanks, Beth.” Steve’s voice is muffled behind his second cup of coffee. 

“Welcome Daddy! Mommy, can I has that nice stuff on?” 

“On what, sweets?”

“My pancakes.” You can hear her eye roll, the implied ‘duh, mom’ (thanks Auntie Max). 

“The nice stuff? Syrup?” 

“Yeah! Sir-yup.”

“Yeah okay. A little bit.” You flip another pancake, turning the chocolate chip face down onto the heated pan. “Do you want bacon on the same plate or on the side?”

“Um. Can I dip it?” 

“In the syrup?” 

“Yeah, in that nice stuff.”

“Yeah, you can try dipping it. Who taught you that?”

“Teddy.”

You smirk, “Steve, did you hear that? Betty’s taking after her Uncle’s eating habits.” 

“Which one?” 

“Ed. She’s gonna dip her bacon in syrup.” 

“That’s my girl.”

Beth giggles and turns carefully on the chair to look at him. “No Daddy, you does it all over! You got to dip-dip.” 

“Can you show me how?” Steve asks, he smiles over at her, looking so handsome with the baby standing in his lap now. 

“Magic word?” 

You snort-laugh, tucking your chin to your chest as your shoulders shake; you just about slide the pancake onto a plate without incident. Beth has one hand on her hip, a mini-Steve for sure, giving as good as she gets.

“Are you practising your magic for later?”

“Nooo Daddy. You has to say p’weeeeeeze-uhhh.”

“Okay-uhhhh. Please, pretty princess Bethany, can you show me how to dip my bacon in syrup?”

Bethany considers it and looks at you with a cheeky smile. “Yep! I show you, Daddy!”

You wink at her before helping her pour more batter onto the hot buttered pan, praising her careful steady hand. 

“Beth, can you grab a bib for Ava please?” You’re almost done and know you’ll get it served up quicker if your helper has a special task. 

“Yes! What colour?” her hot cocoa eyes shine with delight to help as you help her down. 

“Surprise me. We have a Halloweeny one for later, so any one you like for breakfast time okay? Dealer’s choice.” You dot a kiss to her head before watching her scurry to check what colour her sister's sleep-suit is. 

“There’s a laundry basket in the living room, babe. The bibs are on top. Do you need help?” Steve asks her, lifting Ava back into her chair before going to get forks and plates and glasses of juice for the table. 

“No tank you.”

You lean back against Steve’s warm chest and tilt your head for a kiss. “Hi. I missed you.” 

“Missed you more,” he murmurs, squeezing the tender spots on your hips as he kisses you slowly and sweetly. A proper kiss for the morning, tasting of coffee and shared banana and sneaked chocolate chips. 

Your fingers brush his jaw, feeling stubble beneath soft fingertips. He won’t shave today, you hope he’ll string it out a couple of days into the work week. 

After another hip-squeeze, he picks out cutlery and you notice how he squints into the drawer. 

“Glasses.”

“Getting them next, chef.”

“No, your glasses Stevie. You’ll get a headache.” 

“I have a headache. I’m blaming Rob for it.”

“It’ll get worse if you don’t put your glasses on, babe.”

You watch him mimicking your correctness with a scrunched nose as he picks out forks and knives. He knows you’re right but he doesn’t have to like it.

Steve gathers everything for breakfast, including Beth’s syrup. 

“I’ll get them in a sec,” he murmurs behind you, waiting for Beth to return with a bib first. 

You smile to yourself and start plating up. 

“Beth, how are we doing on the bib?”

When he looks into the living room, Steve sees Beth with every clean bib around her as she decides. 

“I can’t find one to match!” Beth’s face is a scowl.

“Babe, it doesn’t need to match. Just pick. Please.” Steve tries to be patient. Ava is getting impatient without food or distractions in the kitchen and he hears you chatter to her to try and help. He’s usually good at the diffuse and distract technique, a pro after quasi-parenting more than half a dozen teenagers.

“Can we do a-a spooky one?”

“Um. Sure. This one is kinda autumny?” He holds up the orange and yellow floral one, tiny flowers and green leaves. 

“But Ava’s jammies is pink Daddy! It doesn’t go! It has to be spooky and match!” Beth’s voice turns whiney, a pout on her face. 

Steve pops his head back into the kitchen where Ava is entirely unimpressed with being ignored as you bring over the plates. “Beth would really like it if Ava could have a Halloween bib now, and if it matched her pjs too…”

You watch him suppressing an eye-roll, knowing it would just hurt his head. He looks exactly like Beth. 

“Um, check the laundry room? I left a couple out.” You peek around Steve and see Beth with all of the bibs around her. “Sorry, I should’ve just told her to check in there.” 

“No, it’s fine. Beth, pick those up please and come wash your hands.” 

Steve smooches Ava’s cheek as he passes and palms your side with a squeeze. He picks up a purple bib with bats and a white one with ghosts - he is hopeful that one will suit Beth’s specifications and taste.  He has this Dad thing down to a fine art.

The bigger girl has clean and almost dry hands, pyjama sleeves rolled up her arms by your gentle mom-touch. Her face splits into a grin when Steve presents the choices.

“Yes! The pur-pellll!” she squeaks, bouncing on her feet. 

He dips to pick her up, barely suppressing the dad-groan - but it’s quieter than last time. “My little fashionista, huh? Everything’s gotta match?” He pecks her nose, making it scrunch like a bunny’s. 

When Ava’s got her bib on, distracted by cut-up pumpkin-shaped pancakes and berries (with one slice of bacon), Beth sits in her seat at the table in awe of the jack-o-lantern faces you have created. 

“Spooky enough, babe?” You sip maple-sweetened coffee and smile at her little happy face. 

Her hair is spilling over from her messy bedtime ponytail, which comes more loose as she nods furiously. “So cool! Tank you Mommy!”

“Super cool,” Steve agrees, winking at you across the table. “Thanks, baby.”

You’re just as sexy to him now, as you were last night with your messy hair and the well-loved teddy-print dressing gown. He notices his glasses case by his coffee and you wink back at him over the top of your mug.

With his world more in focus, Steve watches you smile at Ava as she shows you her chunk of pancake. You kiss her cheek, nuzzle into her milk-and-honey scented neck telling her you love her. 

You feel like the littlest one hasn’t had your full attention this morning and you have missed her, feeling mom-guilt to the hilt. Steve will take on dish-duty once the plates are empty and bellies are full, giving you time with your girls. 

There are a few last-minute decorations and chores you want to make time for in between kid-friendly movies, dressing the girls in their costumes - Beth as a tiny cute witch and  Ava as a cosy pumpkin. The girls are your number one priority today, making core memories for them and taking one hundred and one photos for the albums. Ava is still too little to really soak it in but she takes enough notice to nourish her little mind. 

You and Steve will fill out the candy for trick-or-treaters, and hold little hands when the girls go door to door in your own cul de sac. When they’re tucked up in bed, you will pick through the candy leftovers and curl up to watch one scary film followed by a non-scary one as a balm before you sleep. 

For now, you sit back and share a loving smile with Steve, your socked feet brushing beneath the breakfast table. 

What a treat. 

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️ 

[samytbmpoursexfriends]

I show my big cum cock to my little slut.

[hellfirecvnt]

Light my Fire

Lee Russell x Fem!Reader pt. 5

Summary: Your plan goes awry. Tensions are high. What's everybody gonna do about it? Ooh.

Warnings: sex, edging, creampie, quickie, crime makes him horny, low-key fluff at the end (idk how to end stories????)

Notes: EW this chapter is so short, but it's only bc this is the end of this series and I'm about to do another Lee Russell series I'm really excited about. Stay tuned!

Read part one here. // Part two here. // Part three here. // Part four here.

The night air is brisk as you park your car in the far-off lot behind the school. You're swift and careful sneaking inside, unseen. You beeline straight for the principal's office where Neal and Lee wait for you.

"'Bout fuckin' time, Y/L/N," Gamby barks, holding the door for you and scanning the surroundings as if you've been followed. You haven't. That's just how he is.

"Shut up, I forgot we were even doing this until Lee texted me."

"Both of you shut up, this is serious," Lee takes a seat at the desk and Gamby enviously joins him on the other side as if an audience of just you is enough to require them to validate their seniority.

"Why're you so serious? We're just scaring her a little," you laugh, unable to imagine anything going wrong with a plan that's meant to knock a vase or two over.

"Might have something to do with it being a felony." Neal arches his brows.

"You know what else is a felony? Doing hallucinogens on the school campus during a football game. You're already in it, Gamby. I hope you look good in orange," you taunt, earning a pair of narrow eyes from him.

"Will you two fuck sticks shut up for five goddamn seconds?!" Lee bursts, his voice hitting that cracked note it does when he's stressed. You and Gamby look at each other, confused. It seems the two of you have underestimated how much pressure Lee is holding right now.

"Damn, dude. It's alright, calm down." You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Let's just get in there and get out. Easy." Your pep talk seems to do the trick and all three of you file out to the bus lanes to hop in a rented white van.

The trip is silent and eerily long. You and Neal exchange tense glances, but Lee stays stone-focused on the road. He's not even driving, Gamby is. Lee's just unwavering his attention from the asphalt, deep in thought, you assume.

The van pulls up to a house in a small neighborhood, stopping out front. It's a little bold for your tastes, but you don't plan to be in there long anyways.

"Oh shit, is this where she lives?" You ask.

“What a shit-hole.” Neal adds, laughing.

"This is my house, motherfucker." Lee looks at him with wide, angry eyes. "It’s a mid-century sea ranch!"

"It's a... It's a great sea ranch, Lee." You attempt to talk down his stress, but he just shakes his head as he climbs out of the van, promising to be back after he grabs something from inside. When he comes back, his hands seem empty, but you don't question it.

The act continues and Neal pulls the large rental van into the nearby cul-de-sac and parks, turning off the headlights. You stare out the window, scanning for any movement inside the house.

"Looks still to me," you whisper.

"She's gonna be at that game all night," Neal mumbles, unbuckling his seatbelt.

The three of you pile out of the van quietly and make your way up to her back porch. Neal begins to wrap his tie around his fist.

"Are you seriously gonna punch out that window?" You ask, concerned about the risk factor. Gamby only raises his eyebrows.

"Oh, fuck you. No you're not," Lee's laughter is cut off by the shattering sound of a small window in Dr. Brown's back door.

"Oh, shit!" You and Lee exclaim at the same time.

"Bitches first." Neal holds out his arm, welcoming Lee inside. The three of you scramble to find things of value to knock around and stage a thorough break-in. Suddenly, you hear the sound of a loud crash.

"A little much, Lee, don't you think?" You hiss, annoyed by the monstrous volume of the crash.

"Gamby broke the fuckin' window," he protests.

"Yeah, so we could get in. It's a fake robbery, you think they're not gonna break a fucking window?" Neal's sass only amplifies Lee's.

"Darlin', smash this mug and we'll leave right now, I promise." The look on his face tells you loud and clear that he's lying to you.

"You're a lying piece of shit, Mr. Russell," you huff and he shrugs with a "shy" grin.

"And yet, you're gonna do whatever I say, aren't you?" His eyes twinkle and you know he's right. Your expression is one of defiance as you snatch the mug from his hands and slam it on the ground. The tiny shards of porcelain explode in every direction against the polished hardwood floor.

"Well, look at you, hardened criminal." Lee grins, breaking out into a damn near rampage. Gamby seems to have caught whatever enraged bug bit Lee and the two of them tear through the house like maniacs.

"Oh, no..." You stare in horror as the two buffoons tear Belinda's home to shreds. You're watching Neal in horror as he wrecks her china cabinet. The only thing that can tear your eyes away from the mess is the unmistakable stench of burning synthetic fabric. "Lee?!"

"Don't look at me like that, sweetheart. We need her gone," he says with an emotionless face. He tilts his head to the side, still looking at you as the flames get higher. It's like he's someone else for just a second, and while you know you should be off-put and even scared, you can't stand how much you want him right now. The two of you are frozen in a stare-off as the house fills with toxic black smoke. Gamby's yelling something, but everything's muffled as all your attention belongs to Lee.

"Y/N, come on!" He screams one more time before cursing aloud and grabbing your arm. Neal drags you out of the burning abode and shoves you out the back door onto the lawn where you land with a thud, only then being knocked out of your lusty trance. Gamby hacks and coughs from the amount of smoke that filled his lungs while he waited for you to get out of the house.

"Neal?! What the fuck? Where's Lee?" You scramble to your feet, blackened by the tarish nature of the soot. You look around frantically for your third other superior, but he's nowhere to be found. "Gamby!" You snap at him, demanding answers.

"Hey, motherfucker. Let's not scream each other's names out here while the place is burning down," Lee appears from the bushes like some sort of Halloween trick. You roll your eyes, relieved to see him.

"Let's get the fuck out of here!" You whisper harshly, leading the men to the van. The drive back to the school is silent. You're unsure what everyone else is feeling now that the heat of the moment has cooled. Have you all gone too far? Did anyone see you? Your mind races with anxiety. You've just been an accessory to arson just because the man behind the lighter looks a little too good in his silly patterned suits.

The van pulls into the school lot and Gamby drops the two of you off by your cars.

"I'm gonna... Get this thing off the road. Return it tomorrow." Neal drives off, leaving the two of you alone in the parking lot. Mr. Gamby is clearly distressed and dissociating from the reality of what he was just a part of, but Lee? Lee's calm. More calm than you've ever seen him. So calm, you wonder if it's an act or if he truly did find that much release and relaxation in destroying another person's home for his own gain. It's disgusting behavior, and the way he's carrying it makes your knees weak.

Lee Russell looks you up and down with a flat face. His lack of readability makes you nervous and excited. His eyes trail back up your body and to your eyes, inviting you to follow him inside the dark, locked school. You can barely stifle an excited squeal as you trail happily behind him. He's uncharacteristically silent, bubbling at the brim with adrenaline and desire. The feeling of conquering his enemy is almost as orgasmic as fucking you senseless in the principal's office.

He opens the door and you giddily trot inside, taken aback by how dark it is in here at night. You're attempting to let your eyes adjust when you hear the door close and feel Lee's nimble, needy hands groping roughly at your chest from behind.

"You looked a little scared back there, darlin'." He kisses and nips at your neck, whispering with warm breath in your ear.

"Lee, we could get in so much trouble," you speak through small gasps.

"But we won't," he chuckles against your skin, tightening his grip around your breasts. "I'm fucking invincible." He suddenly spins you around, almost like dancing, before he guides you backward toward the desk, laying you back on it so he can lift your legs around his waist. Neither of you pays attention to any of the small ornaments and stationary that fall off in the process.

He crashes his soft, balmed lips against yours, moving his head back and forth in sync with yours. It was unclear to you until now how touch-starved you were before he had his hands on you so roughly, never mind having him only a few days ago.

"Lee-" you huff his name, hoping to speed this heated affair along so you can feel him inside you.

"Shh, sweetheart," he whispers, placing a thumb on your pouting lips. "Let me savor this." He tilts his head back, hands gripping your waist, pulling your clothed cunt to his growing erection straining against his slacks. You lie back on the desk, accepting each of his sexual prods and squeezes. Primal groans of pleasure rumble lowly from his chest as he slides his palms up and down your body, studying every inch of you, mesmerized.

It feels like he's toying with you forever. Pressing your breasts together and slipping his hands under your bra. He catches you off guard when he finally slips a hand up your skirt and skillfully slips your lace and silk panties off your legs. You gasp, suddenly fully exposed to him yet again.

"I really don't give a shit if they bring in a new principal as long as I've got a claim on this tight fucking pussy of yours," he sighs, jaw hanging slack as he slips a well-manicured finger up and down your throbbing clit. "Fuckin' Christ."

You release a string of hearty moans, desperate for more and more. He smiles a big, white smile as he plays you like an instrument, filling the room with the sounds of your pleasure. Lee's lips part as he focuses intently on his fingers scissoring inside you, bringing you closer and closer to your climax. Just as it seems you're going to give, he pulls away without so much as a kiss.

"Lee!" You whine, quickly replacing his fingers with your own. That's not part of his plan, though. He grabs your wrists and holds them in front of you, staring into your face in the very dimly lit office room. He holds your wrists in place and watches your shifting, desperate face. "Please!" You arch your back, attempting to run against him like you're in heat, but he doesn't let you reach. Your climax quickly dwindles away and your knees feel like they're made of gelatin.

"Shhh," he whispers, but it turns into a taunting chuckle. He's laughing at you. Laughing at the puddle of a woman you turn into for him. He truly feels invincible. "Do you want it, sweetheart?" He asks with the same emotionless face and tilted head he had in Belinda's burning home.

"I need it, Lee. Please," you moan, hoping so badly this is finally it. Lee reaches for his belt and unfastens the metal and leather painstakingly slowly.

"God, look at you, begging for me to fuck you after what you helped me do." He frees his throbbing cock, positioning his pre-cum soaked tip at your awaiting cunt. He hovers there, hanging his mouth open and tilting his chin up as he looks down at you, taunting. "So close..."

You do all you can to meet him halfway, to feel him inside you, and to dismiss this erotic display of dominance. Lee slaps the head against your sensitive slit a few times, collecting your arousal with his before sinking his tip into you. You release a filthy, guttural moan that makes him shudder as he slips in all the way to his hilt.

"Fucking, god damn it," he groans. "All I've been fucking thinking about..." He slowly slides out, nearly withdrawing completely, but then he slams his hips against yours. This brutal thrust defines his rhythm and he begins to fuck you like he hates you. His bucking hips slam into you hard and fast as ravenous moans pour from his lips.

"You're... Fucking insane," you giggle between rough thrusts.

"This pussy's fucking insane." Lee quickens his pace, throwing his head back in ecstasy. He quickly removes himself from you, only to yank you off the desk and spin you around. Once you're facing the desk, he bends you over and roughly lifts your pencil skirt to expose your round ass. He repositions himself at your pussy and slams his way in. The room is an echo chamber of the two of you expressing your pleasure through loud, sensual moans.

"Lee!" You gasp, arching your back to better present yourself to him. He fucks rhythmically as you're quickly pushed closer and closer to your orgasm.

"Come on, darlin'," he whispers, chasing his own high. After a few more minutes, a vulnerable groan escapes Lee's lips, and the two of you climax at nearly the same time. He finishes inside you as you flood his desk and pants. The two of you hold still for a moment before he slowly slips out of your sensitive entrance and allows the rest of the mixture of cum to pour out of you.

"Lee... That was-"

"You're coming home with me tonight, Y/N." Lee smiles warmly, almost as if he's waiting for you to accept or decline. You're still fuzzy-brained and dripping with the evidence of his violations.

"Oh, yeah. I'd, um, love to," you accept shyly, confused and aroused by this new genre of dominance from him. Lee stands next to you where you lie face down on his desk, knees buckled beneath you. He gently strokes your hair as he speaks.

"I don't wanna go scaring you off or anything, but" he pulls your hair away from your face. "We don't have to call this anything-"

"I wanna call it something," you say, quickly. He grins.

"I don't care what you wanna call it. I'm calling you mine."

End.

•••••

Taglist: @therest-stillunwritten // @its-in-the-woods // @justme12200 // @sixx-writes // @littlenosoul // @itsyellow // @blackwoodtree // @hiddlebatchedloki // @ivyinthesun // @alastorsw1f3 // @sexy-monster-fucker // @writtenbyhollywood //

[camisoledadparis]

saga: Soumission & Domination 356

24h du Mans moto-2

17-04, soir : Comme nous arrivons dans la cour du château, nous rejoignent les derniers motards du groupe. Marc arrive avec Éric et Cédric en passager et Daniel. L'écurie s'étoffe d'une CBR1000RR, du GSX R1000 que j'ai offert à Éric et du GSX R 750 de Daniel. Juste avant la pluie !

Ils ont fait la route ensemble et nous disent avoir rencontré beaucoup d'autre moto allant vers le circuit et pas mal de collègues de nos deux gendarmes.

Je fais la présentation de notre logement du WE et de ses commodités. On se met à l'aise. Les combis sont suspendues un peu partout et comme les autres nous restons en shorty, boxer ou slip selon les préférences de chacun.

De la piscine nous arrivent des cris et des hurlements. Quand on arrive, c'est pour tomber sur une bataille dans l'eau. Bien sûr tout le monde est à poil. Le temps de laisser le peu qui nous restait sur le corps et nous nous joignons à l'échauffourée. 

Ça passe au stade " sexe " alors même que personne n'a encore gagné. Les nouveaux n'ont plus l'air d'être fatigués. Ils se lancent dans la mêlée. PH et Ludovic reviennent des chambres avec les kpotes, le gel et du poppers.

Je me régale avec les 23x6.5 du Lad motard. Les gendarmes sont appréciés aussi tout comme Éric et son black mamba.

La partouze bat son plein quand Nicolas (notre hôte) arrive voir si nous avons besoin de rien et vers quelle heure nous comptions dîner. Vu le bruit qu'on fait, il ne pouvait se tromper sur nos activités, donc il devait vouloir participer ! C'est d'ailleurs ce qui lui arrive. Près de l'entrée, Frank était en train d'enculer Jules aux côtés d'un " médecin " en train de démonter le cul de Kamal et d'un de ses confrères celui d'Arnaud. Ils se sont décollés le temps de l'attraper et de l'envoyer tout nu au centre de la mêlée. Sa grosse bite attire Cédric habitué aux gros calibre (rappel : c'est le régulier d'Éric). Il se fait donc bouffer la queue jusqu'à l'os, Cédric en mode " garçon en manque ".

Je me reconcentre sur mon cavalier. Quand il n'est pas en train de chevaucher un étalon, ce sont les 184CV de son ZX10R débridé. Il sait maitriser sa monture et quand il enfonce la totalité de sa bite, il obtient mon obéissance totale !

Ludovic passe me voir entre deux plans. Il me roule une pelle et me dit de bien profiter avant de trouver Marc sur son chemin. Il se fait bloquer, retourner et enculer tout en se faisant pousser sous moi (je suis en levrette). Il embouche ma bite raide et est excité de l'intérieur alors que j'embouche son gland.

Pas besoin de bouger pour nous deux. Ce sont les coups de rein de nos deux enculeurs qui activent nos pipes. Quand Marc tire les jambes de Ludovic pour mettre ses chevilles sur ses épaules, il m'enfonce plus profond sa queue au fond de ma gorge. Trop bon ! Nous nous régalons de nos glands respectifs et de la mouille qui en coule. Quand on se met à juter c'est l'apothéose. C'est je pense aussi ce que pense nos enculeurs que l'on sent se libérer dans nos entrailles (enfin kpote chez moi).

Quelques minutes pour retomber sur terre.

Petit coup d'oeil panoramique. Certains ont déjà juté comme nous mais il reste un petit groupe qui n'en a pas terminé. Je m'approche alors que mes comparses prennent la direction des douches. En fait c'est un mini gang-bang. Nicolas est sur le dos en train d'attendre les jets de spermes des 6 mecs debout au-dessus de lui.

Il ferme les yeux quand ça se met à pleuvoir sur lui. Il reste quelques minutes sous cette couverture avant que les participants l'aident à se relever sans glisser. Il reçoit autant de tape dans le dos que de mecs encore présent. Il apprécie le respect que ça sous-entend. Ce n'est pas parce qu'il s'est fait couvrir de sperme après s'être pris plusieurs mecs dans le cul qu'il n'est pas estimable pour autant.

Il nous accompagne aux douches puis nous précède à la salle à manger. Quand nous y arrivons, il a organisé un grand buffet avec plats chauds.

Dans une ambiance assez bruyante, nous commençons à nous restaurer. Les entrées sont simples et bonnes, principalement constituées de crudités et de charcuteries locales. Les rillettes du Mans sont délicieuses !

Nous voyons pour la première fois son cuisinier alors qu'avec lui Nicolas amène les plats chauds. Je comprends pourquoi il nous l'avait caché ! Le mec doit avoir dans les 20/25 ans, carré de gueule et d'épaules, ses cheveux courts et ses boucles d'oreilles et surtout son cul rebondi moulé dans un jeans trop petit, attirent sur lui les sifflets de ma petite troupe.

Ils nous présentent des cotes de boeufs de 6 ou 7 cm d'épaisseur, grillée sur le dessus embaumant les herbes. Une pierre chaude est là pour recuire si quelques un le préféreraient.

Quand il tranche, l'eau nous coule de la bouche. Elles sont grillées en extérieur et le centre est bleu mais chaud. A part Kamal qui lui demande de passer sa tranche sur la pierre, nous nous régalons de sa cuisson parfaite. Là aussi notre hôte privilégie les élevages locaux. Les 6 cotes disparaissent et il ne reste plus que les os ! Le cuisinier est un peu scié. Il y avait presque 4 kg de viande ! Ça n'empêche pas le plateau de fromages de se faire dévaster à son tour.

Il est évident que l'aide culinaire de Nicolas a reçu plus d'une invitation pour le reste de la soirée. Il nous éconduit gentiment arguant du fait qu'il était hétéro et qu'il avait une copine. Evidemment sa sortie soulève un tollé général. Comme si le fait d'avoir une amie, de lui faire l'amour pouvait l'empêcher de prendre du plaisir avec nous.

Entre notre journée sur le circuit à piétiner, les trajets en moto de certains, la touze et le repas, nous sommes morts de fatigue. On se répartit dans les chambres et les lits au petit bonheur la chance.

18-04 :

Je me réveille dans les bras d'un des gendarmes. Je ne suis pas seul puisqu'avec nous dans ce grand lit dort encore Ludovic.

Je le réveille et nous prenons une douche vite fait. Descendus dans la salle commune nous retrouvons la moitié du groupe en train de petit déjeuner. Ils sont déjà bien réveillés et jouent un peu à chauffer le cuisinier.

Nous ne sommes pas pressés puisque le départ n'a lieu qu'à 15h et que le ciel a du mal à se dégager. On discute avec Nicolas pour savoir si nous rentrons diner ou pas.

Après échanges d'avis, il est décidé que non mais qu'ils nous préparent un en-cas froid pour dans la nuit.

Habitués à des invités anglais, le petit déjeuner est conséquent et nous permettra sans problème d'attendre le soir. Avec un sandwich quand même entre temps !

La deuxième moitié du groupe arrive, les yeux encore collés de sommeil. Certains sont encore en boxer et ils sont bandants mal réveillés comme ça. Ils sont condamnés à faire le tour de la table pour les bisous. Quelques langues fraîches approfondissent ces baisers. Mal réveillés mais les dents brossées quand même ! Cédric retrouve les genoux de son Éric, tout comme Arnaud qui se colle à son Léo.

On discute de la journée à venir. Les plus impatients d'y aller sont évidemment ceux qui n'y sont jamais venus. Ils veulent voir les courses qui précédent le départ. Donc on presse un peu le mouvement.

Douches rapides pour ceux qui en ont besoin. On se glisse dans nos combis. Éric me fait la réflexion qu'on va encore attirer des remarques homophobes. Je nous regarde avec plus d'attention. Effectivement, on est quelques-uns peut être un peu trop " moulés " par le cuir. Tant pis pour les cons.

On quitte nos hôtes et fonçons vers le circuit. Notre petite troupe conflue avec d'autres motards en provenance de Paris. Pour plus de pratique et de sécurité, j'ai pris pour tous des entrées pour un parking gardé à l'intérieur du circuit. Du coup on y laisse les motos et les casques.

Il fait suffisamment chaud pour ouvrir nos combis. Ludovic retire même son t-shirt et réenfile son blouson. Il donne des idées à d'autre et on est la moitié à laisser deviner nos pecs et nos abdos sculpturaux. Comme pas un n'arbore de pilosité, ça attirera encore plus les remarques " déplacées ". On se faufile jusqu'en face des stands pour voir le départ des side-cars. On y reste le temps de les voir passer plusieurs fois puis nous déambulons le long du circuit.

Les néophytes sont surpris de voir que certains motards dorment sur les talus qui bordent la piste. En fait la plupart cuvent déjà l'alcool qu'ils ont ingurgité sans modération.

Après la coupe des 125cc, Marc nous offre à boire. Piétiner pendant 2h30 ça donne soif ! On commence gentiment avec des demis. On partage quelques barquettes de frites en attendant de manger plus tard.

A partir de là, on se disperse. De toutes les façons tous nos smartphones contiennent la totalité des numéros de téléphone des mecs présents et puis on se donne un rendez-vous pour diner ensemble. Marc part avec Éric et Cédric. Je reste avec PH, Ludovic les 2 gendarmes et Jules. On traine dans le village en attendant le départ. Du coup quand il faut se placer, les abords du circuit sont blindés. Moi perso je m'en fous un peu mais Jules et Ludovic sont un peu déçus. En haut des escaliers, entre deux tribunes sur la ligne des stands, des spectateurs devant nous nous bouchent la vue.

G1 attrape Jules et le balance sur les épaules de G2. Je m'accroupi et dis à Ludovic de faire pareil. Il faut que PH le pousse mais une fois que je suis redressé, il domine la foule et voit la piste. Heureusement qu'il n'a pris que 5Kg depuis qu'on s'entraine ! Je peux tenir un bon moment ses 80Kg sur mes épaules. Il reste perché le temps du tour de chauffe et du départ puis glisse au sol. Instinctivement quand il est à terre, il me tourne et me roule une pelle, juste pour me remercier. Evidemment ça déclenche une remarque homophobe. Je me tourne pour voir de qui elle émane.

Un mec 30/35ans moche comme un cul ! La réponse est rapide : " rassure toi, avec ta tête tu n'as aucune chance de m'attirer ". Eclats de rires des mecs qui nous entourent, le pauvre type part plus gêné que nous. Un " mon héros " de la part de Ludovic qui me tombe dans les bras sur un registre mélodramatique achève l'entourage.

Je commence à avoir faim et je ne suis pas le seul. On s'appelle et nous déjeunons tous ensemble. Hot-dogs frites, nous callent pour quelques heures.

Puis on repart dispersés après avoir confronté notre début d'après-midi. Marc, au récit de notre mésaventure, nous dit d'être plus discrets quand même.

Refus de notre part, on ne va pas donner raison aux cons quand même ! Et puis ce n'est pas comme si nous ne savions pas nous défendre.

Avec PH je recherche un petit moment la chapelle. Alban nous a signalé qu'un sculpteur du milieu 20ème en avait réalisé les piliers. On rame un peu car cette dernière n'est plus à l'endroit originel justement nommé " virage de la chapelle ". Elle a été reconstruite de l'autre côté du circuit. Photos, vues générales puis en détails et envoie à l'artiste.

Remerciements immédiats avec demande de prise en gros plan de certains détails particuliers. On passe bien 1h à ces bêtises mais ça fait plaisir à Alban.

Retour dans la foule, et oui la chapelle n'attire pas beaucoup de motards !

On retrouve sur la passerelle Dunlop Frank, Louis, Arnaud et son Léo qui viennent en sens inverse. On se joint à eux et on va trainer les " boutiques ". Les " cuirs " sont de qualité médiocre. On regarde beaucoup mais il n'y a pas grand-chose qui retient mon attention.

Je m'arrête dans l'une d'elle plus pour son vendeur que pour sa marchandise. Le mec est mignon, un peu petit mais une bonne tête, boucle d'oreille à droite comme moi et un torse large mis en valeur par un t-shirt deux tailles trop petites.

Il me demande ce que je cherche et, avant que je n'aie eu le temps de répondre, m'assure qu'il a surement ça en boutique. Je le prends au mot et lui dis que c'est le cas puisque son petit cul outrageusement serré dans son jeans était dans la boutique. Il rit jaune mais entre dans le jeu.

Lui : " désolé vous êtes tombé sur le seul article qui n'est pas à vendre car déjà vendu ".  

Moi : " ce doit être négociable si le montant de mes achats est conséquent ? "

Lui : il me déshabille du regard, j'ai toujours le haut de ma combi ouverte sur mon torse musclé et glabre et me sort un " faut voir ".

Je fais le tour de la boutique les autres sont entrés aussi et encombrent les deux allées.

J'avise un T-shirt noir logoté -24h du Mans moto 2015-. Je lui demande conseil pour la taille et lui demande si ça se porte aussi près du corps que le sien.

Réponse du vendeur " bien sûr ". À mon " OK je veux voir ", il n'hésite pas retire le sien et enfile celui que j'ai repéré. Il reste suffisamment longtemps torse nu pour que j'admire son torse large et imberbe aux pecs terminés de deux gros tétons dont un percé d'un anneau inox. Une fois qu'il a enfilé le nouveau T-shirt, je m'approche et passe la main sur le tissu " pour me rendre compte ". Il me laisse faire. En essayant de tester l'épaisseur du tissu, je le pince avec difficulté (il est sec le mec !) et du coup attrape un morceau de chair entre mes doigts. Frisson du propriétaire et en baissant les yeux, je vois sa braguette bien gonflée.

Il s'écarte et fouille pour me chercher un exemplaire et me dit de l'essayer. Je me défais du haut de ma combi qui tombe bas sur mes hanches dévoilant la totalité de mon torse nu et la ceinture d'un bottomless de chez Addicted. Quand je lève les bras pour enfiler le vêtement trop petit, ma combi descend un peu plus dévoilant cette spécificité de mon shorty. Il me dit que je suis bien foutu et à son tour il essaye d'attraper le tissu et pince mon téton libre (de piercing). Je ne peux que laisser échapper un gémissement compromettant. Il tire un peu le bas du t-shirt pour l'amener à ma ceinture et ce faisant touche mon sexe remonté vers mon nombril. Il ne peut plus douter que je bande ! Les copains bouchent toujours les entrées et font que nous sommes tranquilles au fond de l'échoppe. J'attrape son petit cul de mes deux mains et le plaque contre moi en cherchant ses lèvres. Il se laisse faire et je peux malaxer son boule. Je sens au comportement de sa langue dans ma bouche qu'il est prêt à aller plus loin. Je lui dis que c'est cool et que les mecs qui remplissent ses allées sont des potes.

Je m'arrange de sa boucle de ceinture et des boutons du jeans pour pouvoir le descendre sous ses fesses. Mes doigts s'aventurent alors entre les deux masses musculaires et trouve une rondelle accueillante. Chaud le mec, pas de slip ! Je me kpote et dans le même mouvement, je le retourne et enfonce ma bite entre elles, puis dans son cul. Là, c'est son tour de gémir. Heureusement que les motos tournent sur le circuit tout près.

J'entends plusieurs fois " le vendeur est pris, vous pouvez revenir plus tard ? ". J'accélère le tempo tout en faisant attention qu'il " monte " en même temps que moi.

Je le fais juter contre la toile du fond et moi, sous la contrainte des spasmes de sa rondelle, je rempli ma kpote.

Réajustement. Je lui dis que je garde le t-shirt mais qu'il m'en faut 22 autres avant de corriger le chiffre à 24 en pensant à notre hôte et son cuisinier.

PH me rejoint et on se roule un patin. Je vois les yeux du vendeur s'ouvrir tout grand. PH le rassure et lui dit qu'il n'est pas jaloux et que j'ai eu la chance d'être le premier à le voir. Sous-entendu, ç'aurait pu être lui.

Avec mes amis présents, nous estimons les différentes tailles à approvisionner. Comme je ne veux pas m'embarrasser, il nous garde le paquet jusqu'à sa fermeture.

Quand nous viendront le chercher, on trouvera nos achats mis dans un petit sac à dos offert par la maison. Bon, c'est vrai qu'après l'avoir défoncé, je n'avais pas eu le coeur de lui demander une ristourne.

Jardinier

~~

~~

~~

Ugly Sweater

影像– 瀏覽

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Her body, Her Choice

A/N: This change I made in this scene should give some insight into why Jonathan pisses me off so bad (I don't hate him, just what he did). . .why it pisses me off that people claim they're against misogyny but are backing up Jonathan here. Nancy should have been able to reclaim her agency in this moment. He was absolutely 100% wrong. . .and here's why:

"You never said what I was saying," Nancy said.

"What?" Jonathan asked.

"Yesterday, you said I was saying something, and that's why you took my picture," she said.

"Oh, I don't know," Jonathan said. "I guess I saw this girl, you know, trying to be someone else, but in that moment, it was like you were alone or you thought you were (a/n: creepiest fucking sentence I ever heard). . .you know. . .you could just be yourself."

"That is. . .such bullshit," Nancy scoffed.

"What?" He asked.

"I am not trying to be someone else, just because you don't like Steve," she said, her cheeks flushed with rage.

"You know what, forget it, I thought it was a good picture," Jonathan said.

"What's the lie here, Jonathan? Earlier, you said you were sorry and that you shouldn't have taken those pictures. So, which is it? That the pictures are good or you're sorry that you took them?" She asked, and he went silent. "You know, Steve is actually a good guy."

"Okay," Jonathan said.

"Yesterday with the camera. . .he doesn't usually do that," Nancy said. "He was just being protective."

"Yeah, that's one word for it," he scoffed.

"And I guess what you did was okay?" She asked.

"No, I never said that," Jonathan said quickly.

"Except that you fucking did when you called the pictures good, just a few seconds ago," Nancy pointed out. "He had every right to be pissed and honestly, so do I!"

"Okay, alright, does that mean that I have to like him?" He asked, turning to face her.

"No," she said. "But this isn't about that. This is about what you did."

"Listen, don't take it personally, okay. I don't like most people. He's in the vast majority," Jonathan said.

"You know, I was actually starting to think that you were okay," Nancy spat.

"Yeah?!"

"Yeah, I was thinking Jonathan Byers, maybe he's not the pretentious creep everyone says he is," she snapped.

"I was just starting to think that you were okay. I was thinking Nancy Wheeler. She's not just another suburban girl who thinks she's rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does until that phase passes and she marries some boring one-time jock and who now works sales. They now live a perfectly boring life at the end of a cul-de-sac, exactly like her parents, who they thought were so depressing. . .but hey, now I get it!" Jonathan yelled.

He was about to walk away when Nancy pulled her arm back and slapped him. Jonathan clutched his cheek, looking at her in shock. Eventually, she'd go on to leave a very similar stinging slap on Steve, but right now, it was Jonthan on the receiving end of Nancy's rightful wrath.

"You don't get to call me a slut," Nancy said with venom and hurt in her voice. "You don't get to use my fear of turning into my parents against me. You don't get to hurt me to avoid getting out of what you did. You don't know me. All I am is a picture to you, a picture to look at from afar and judge from your self-righteous pedestal. I guess I know what the lie is. . .the apology. You're not fucking sorry, you're not sorry at all. . . I chose to have sex with Steve. I wanted to fuck him. I had it all planned out, except for the party. . .new sweater, new bra. Do you want to know what I was thinking about in that photo? I was trying to decide which position I wanted to be in. Top or bottom? I was both, by the way. I rode him so hard he almost lost consciousness. It was my decision, and you don't get to take that away from me. . .you don't get to call me a slut!"

"I wasn't - "

"What if it was Will?" Nancy asked softly. "If he had been intimate with someone for the first time and he comes crying to you because someone had taken half naked photos of him. . .what would you do? If that person had said what you had said to me. . ."

She could tell that it had been the real slap in the face for Jonathan. She could see it in his eyes.

"I - I would have kicked their ass," Jonathan said.

"Maybe even broke their camera?" Nancy asked.

"Yeah. . .fuck," he whispered.

"I don't know you, Jonathan," she said. "And you don't know me, so don't you pretend like you do. The only thing we know about each other is what we learned from our brothers. From what Will said about your father, it's exactly the kind of shit that he would have said and done. Will said that he wasn't sorry for anything either."

"I, uh," Jonathan said, at a loss for words as his eyes filled up with tears.

"It doesn't feel great when people use your fears against you like that. . .does it?" Nancy asked, and Jonathan shook his head. "You know, Steve didn't have a problem with you before. Tommy did. . .He always talked shit about you, and Steve always came to your defense. He always told Tommy to knock it off. I'm sure Steve thinks differently of you now, though. He probably wouldn't be too surprised to find out that you're the same kind of judgemental asshole that you think he is. . .do you want to prove him right or wrong?"

"Wrong," he sobbed, wiping his eyes. "I'm truly sorry, Nancy."

"Well, you can start making it up to me by helping find this monster and killing it," Nancy said and grabbed the bat from him, pressing the end of the bat against his stomach. "And if you ever even think about pulling that shit again, a camera isn't the only thing that's going to get broken."

Nancy gripped the bat and slung it over her shoulder. She squeezed it so tightly that her knuckles turned white. It was her decision, hers and Steve's. . .no one else's. Her body, her fucking choice. Who the fuck did Jonathan think he was to judge her for her actions when he was the one who crossed the line? With that fury flaming like a wildfire in her chest, she walked ahead, more determined than ever. Her body, her fucking choice.

[chifourmi]

Avec dieu grec ! ca s’est fini comment ??

Ça me fait toujours bizarre de me rendre compte qu'il y a des gens qui suivent vraiment ce que j'écris ahaha

En gros j'ai cru que je commençais à avoir des sentiments pour lui, je lui ai dit, et il n'était pas sur la même longueur d'ondes donc on a décidé de couper tout contact. Sauf qu'avec du recul j'ai compris que je n'avais pas vraiment de sentiments pour lui et que je l'avais idéalisé. Au final je ne le connaissais qu'en surface et j'étais dans le déni pour pleins de red flags qu'il avait. En fait je m'étais surtout attachée à l'attention qu'il me portait. Mais ce qui m'a quand-même fait mal c'est de me rendre compte que pour lui je n'étais qu'une fille parmi d'autres. J'avais envie d'être spéciale pour quelqu'un. Je me suis rendu compte que c'était pas fait pour moi les plans culs non exclusifs. Au final, c'est mieux que je me sois éloignée. Surtout qu'on était pas duuuuu touuut "faits l'un pour l'autre". On avait une sensibilité extrêmement différente. Le seul truc qui fonctionnait vraiiiiment bien c'était le sexe.

Mais au final tout s'est fini dans la bienveillance, la communication et le respect. Il a été vraiment bien pour ça parce qu'il a pris le temps de m'écouter et de clarifier honnêtement tout ce que j'avais besoin de clarifier. On s'est dit que si on se revoyait par hasard, on ne voulait pas qu'il y ait de gêne entre nous. D'ailleurs il dit encore bonjour à mes potes quand il les voit dans la rue!

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Officially Us: Bobby Cobb x f!afab!reader

Warnings: dumbasses in love, pussy eating, PinV

18+ minors dni

A/N: You know I had to write this!!! So like 14 people were interested and that’s good enough for me so here it is!

Little taggies too cause I know you guys showed interest in other BvH characters: @fluffy-little-demon @modern-greek-tragedy @crumb @visceravalentines

Girls day, something you didn’t think was possible with the way everyone’s lives worked. It was something you were so happy about though. You loved hanging out with Jules, Laurie and Ellie (even if Ellie could be a bit mean to you sometimes, but everyone was kinda mean to each other so it was okay.)

You sip on your wine and do a little happy wiggle on the steps of the pool, only feeling like getting your lower body wet right now. Jules and Ellie sat on the edge while Laurie was on a floaty all too sipping on their wines.

“You and Grayson doing good?” You ask, looking over to the raven haired woman.

“Yes! He’s opened up about so many things now. Still kinda sucks at comforting me but he tries.” Jules says leaning back. You smile. “What about you Laurie? How’s your dating life?”

Laurie rolls her eyes, making you chuckle at her. “Ugh, I wish it was going well! I mean seriously! All of these men are so BORING. Always trying to change something in me. Saying I talk too much and my clothing style is too bright. Like that’s not my issue!” Laurie huffs and takes a huge gulp of her wine, then pushes herself over to Ellie and Jules. “Fill me up sister!” And Jules does just that.

“Don’t even think about asking me bumble bee.” Ellie rolls her eyes and turns her head away sipping on her wine. You nod and kick your feet in the water, watching as it ripples and dissipates near Laurie’s floaty, which was somehow already on the other side of the pool.

“What about you?” Jules asks, you look up at her absolutely confused.

“What do you mean?” You furrow your brows and set down your empty wine glass, leaning against the stairs.

“You and Bobby, duh.” Laurie answers, you snort. What?

“What about me and Bobby?” You fumble nervously.

“It’s obvious you two are dating and didn’t tell us.” Ellie replies. You laugh loudly.

“What?! We aren’t together.”

“But you like him don’t you?” Jules tilts her head at you. You let out another nervous laugh as you look at the water again, feeling like you want to drown in it.

“I mean yeah but I’d only have sex with him like, platonically.” You snort and shrug hiding your face from your three friends.

“You can’t have sex with him ‘platonically.’” Your blonde friend says doing her air quotes. You open your mouth to defend yourself. Your next words bring regret immediately.

“Sure you can! We’ve had sex like so many times! Friends with benefits!”

“Oh my god.. she’s being serious.” Ellie looks over at Jules. You huff and cross your arms.

“I am, friends with benefits exist and that’s all we are. Even if I am in love with him.”

You watch as each of the girls eye each other, in some type of silent conversation. Ellie rolls her eyes and they all nod.

“We’re gonna plan a date for you and Bobby.” Jules declares. You shake your head.

“No! You won’t cause he doesn’t like me like that! So it’s not happening!”

-

“This is gonna be awful.” You mutter, smoothing out your dress. Laurie looks more excited than you do as you stare at yourself in the mirror.

Did Bobby Cobb really like you how you liked him? Or was this all some stupid joke set up by the cul de sac crew.

No they weren’t that mean… Maybe Ellie was but she’d usually apologize in some way.

A knock is heard at the door and Laurie grabs your hand, practically dragging you down the stairs. “He’s here!!” Laurie squeals. Everyone was downstairs waiting, god you needed to puke.

“Go on.” Laurie pushes you towards the door, making you almost trip ver your feet. You open up Jules’ front door and Bobby stands there with flowers in his hands and his amazingly goofy smile. Your heart swells up.

“Hello.”

“H-hi!”

God you’re pathetic. You take the flowers and loop your arm around Bobby’s. “Don’t have too much fun!” Jules shouts. You roll your eyes

“BYE MOM!” You joke and shut the door.

“Where are we going?” You ask, getting into his golf cart. You set the flowers in the basket behind you.

“Fancy restaurant about 45 from here.”

You look over at him with a brow raised, his shit eating grin says it all and you two start laughing. “Nah, they tried to plan that. Told them it wasn’t our thing. So it’s Thai food and a picnic on the beach!”

You clap your hands together excitedly and he presses on the gas pedal, you two take off.

-

“You got me chocolate strawberries too! Oh my gosh! You’re like, the best!”

You reach into the cooler and grab them opening the container and taking a bite from one, doing a small happy wiggle.

“Picked out things you like and places you like. I know we’ve been to the beach several times but you love it so much why not.” Bobby shrugs. You pick another strawberry out and shove it close to his mouth. He opens it and takes a bite. Your heart is beating so fast right now. He’s so amazing. You toss the leafy bits over to come seagulls. You watch as the sun dips over the horizon.

“You know, this doesn’t feel any different than us hanging out.” You admit, a frown comes across Bobby’s face. You continue smiling though. “That’s a good thing. I - I was so scared of my feelings for you. I know we were doing stuff already but I didn’t want you to not be in love with me. Only way I felt sure of that was to hide how I felt. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. You’re such a cool person and you’re so nice and friendly. Rejection by you would’ve hurt like a million times more. But I’m happy we agreed to this. Cause now we know both of us like each other.” You explain, Bobby nods his head, you’re sure he only got some of what you said and shove him playfully.

“No, I get it, I understood every word. I was scared too and I ain’t ever scared of nothin’. Losin’ you would’ve been the worst thing in the world for me. Don’t know how I would’ve bounced back or if I would’ve. I’m happy we’re doin’ this too. You’re an amazing’ gal and even though I can’t quite spoil you I’m gonna try to still.”

Your face scrunches up in embarrassment at Bobby’s confession. You two laugh it off and you get up, taking your flats off. You eat another strawberry, throw it to the crowd of gulls and shove Bobby before running into the sand.

“Hey!”

He chuckles and takes his sports coat off before running after you.

You run into the water, the tide only reaching to your knees and blow raspberries at the older man. He laughs, not caring a bit about getting his dark jeans wet. He runs in after you and somehow trips, falling onto your bringing both of you into the salty water.

You sit up and laugh at Bobby. His hair going over his eyes. You shove him again, playfully. The waves hit your bodies, but don’t bother to pull you into the ocean, instead they push you two a little further towards shore. The sandy haired man takes your waist and puts you between his legs, holding you so tightly. He kisses your cheek. You two watch the night sky as you hear him hum lightly.

“So, my place or yours?” You ask.

“Yours.”

-

You practically drag Bobby through your house and to your bathroom. Sandy and wet you chuck your clothes into the laundry basket to wash tomorrow. Then you two get into the shower. The warm water hits your skin, making you feel good. You run your hands through Bobby’s hair to get it wet. He runs his hands up and down your body. You smile and he leans down to kiss you.

“I love you.” You mumble.

“I love you too.”

You feel him getting hard beneath your touch and you smirk squinting your eyes at him. “You’re gonna have to wait. I’m not having sand in my bed.”

The blond kisses you deeply and you two continue to wash each other.

The towels aren’t even on for a minute before Bobby is tearing them off, he holds your face and kisses your lips roughly. You fall onto the bed and he crawls on top of you.

“You’re so pretty.” His voice rasps out, Bobby trails kisses down your body, his calloused hands lightly touching your skin, feeling every inch of you. Bobby touches between your thighs making you spread them further apart he bites and kisses them. You watch as he licks against your clit and you grip onto his wet hair. His fingers find their way into you and you arch your back pushing his face into you. Bobby groans and continues licking your cunt.

“Your tongue feels so good. Please don’t stop.”

Bobby grunts and you feel his tongue work faster to get you to your release. Watching as he starts grinding against the bed.

“Gonna, ah. Cum.”

Your body releases and you moan, gripping onto his hair as hard as you can and riding his face. His stubble rubs against your sensitive flesh but it doesn’t stop you. You look at Bobby absolutely dazed and smile, making grabby hands, he smiles too after a second of looking pussy drunk himself and he hovers over you, kissing your mouth.

You lick his face wanting to taste yourself and he snorts, making you laugh too. You kiss his nose.

“Can I fuck you now?”

You nod. “Please.”

Bobby likes himself up and slowly slides into you. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, he kisses your jaw and pulls out until just the tip is in you. Then he slams into your cunt. Both of you moaning simultaneously.

Bobby thrusts in and out of you and your wrap your arms around his neck, wanting him so much closer to you. “Feel good. So tight for me.” He grunts, you scratch up his back making him let out a small growl. Something you’ve never heard out of him. Bobby’s cock twitches inside of you. “So pretty. And you’re mine now. Can give you as many kisses as I want to. I-“ he lets out small groans, every time his skin slaps against yours.

Your cunt pulsates and your eyes roll back. “Please cum on my cock. Fuck. You’re so beautiful when you cum on it. Such a pretty face.” Bobby mumbles. You can’t help but smile at him. A squeal comes from your throat. Your eyes roll back again as white flashes over your eyes. Your thighs shake, you grip onto Bobby’s back harder. He lets out small grunts and cums not long after, thrusting his hips over and over again into you, you let out soft whines, feeling his cum filling you up.

Bobby takes a second to breathe before pulling out and flopping onto the bed. Cum leaks out of your cunt, you watch in your dazed state as Bobby cleans up his cum with his tongue and let out little squeals.

“Hey!” You giggle, and bite your lip. He smirks and kisses you and you taste him and you together.

Bobby wraps his arms around you and pulls you so you’re as close as you can be. “Are we officially together Bobby Cobb?”

“Hell fuckin’ yeah.” Bobby smiles into your neck and kisses it.

“Good.”

[steddie-fanfic-recs]

Skull Rock Era

by chattrekisses

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Character: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley, Dustin Henderson, Eleven | Jane Hopper, Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Minor Characters, Will Byers, Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, Argyle (Stranger Things), Jonathan Byers, Joyce Byers, Jim "Chief" Hopper, Wayne Munson Additional Tags: Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Internalized Homophobia, Homophobia, Smoking, Drinking, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Sexuality Crisis, Angst, Fluff, Kissing, Pining, Mutual Pining, Bedsharing, Unfortunate Realizations Mid-Masturbation, Culture Club's Karma Chameleon, Fix-It, Anal Sex, Top Eddie Munson, Bottom Steve Harrington, Canon-Typical Violence, Hospitals, Eventual Smut, Eventual Happy Ending, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Found Family, POV Steve Harrington, Humor, Re-contextualizing scenes from the show to make it gayer, Skull Rock, Getting Together, Character Study, Steve Harrington Character Study, Meet-Cute, Hurt/Comfort Words: 71,794 Chapters: 11/11

Summary

Steve Harrington never planned for Eddie Munson. Steve was supposed to marry his high school sweetheart, have 2.5 children, and take over the family business. He was supposed to live a blissful life on a nondescript cul-de-sac, complete with a white picket fence and a closet full of tasteful polo shirts. He was supposed to make a graceful transition between being the golden boy and being the American Dream. Mediocrity was what destiny had designed for Steve. Reality had other plans. (Or, Steve and Eddie, against all odds, fall in love)

[kinonostalgie]

Happy 90th birthday to filmmaker Roman Polanski! Polanski was born Raymond Roman Thierry Liebling on August 18, 1933 in Paris, France. His Polish Jewish parents moved the family from his birthplace in Paris back to Kraków in 1937. Two years later, the invasion of Poland by Nazi Germany started World War II, and the family found themselves trapped in the Kraków Ghetto. After his mother and father were taken in raids, Polanski spent his formative years in foster homes, surviving the Holocaust by adopting a false identity and concealing his Jewish heritage. Polanski's first feature-length film, Knife in the Water (1962), was made in Poland and was nominated for the United States Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film. After living in France for a few years, he moved to the United Kingdom, where he directed his first three English-language feature-length films: Repulsion (1965), Cul-de-sac (1966), and The Fearless Vampire Killers (1967). In 1968, he moved to the United States and cemented his status in the film industry by directing the horror film Rosemary's Baby (1968). In 1969, Polanski's pregnant wife, actress Sharon Tate, was murdered with four friends by members of the Manson Family. He then made Macbeth (1971), What? (1972), Chinatown (1974) and The Tenant (1976). Polanski was arrested and charged in 1977 with drugging and raping a 13-year-old girl. As a result of a plea bargain, he pleaded guilty to the lesser offence of unlawful sex with a minor. In 1978, upon learning that the judge planned to reject his plea deal and impose a prison term instead of probation, Polanski fled to Paris and has since been a fugitive from the U.S. criminal justice system. After fleeing to Europe, Polanski continued directing. His other critically acclaimed films include Tess (1979), The Pianist (2002) which won him the Academy Award for Best Director, The Ghost Writer (2010), Venus in Fur (2013), and An Officer and a Spy (2019). His other notable directorial work include Pirates (1986), Frantic (1988), Bitter Moon (1992), Death and the Maiden (1994), The Ninth Gate (1999), Oliver Twist (2005), Carnage (2011), Based on a True Story (2017) and The Palace (2023). Aside from appearing numerous times in his own films, he has also appeared as an actor in the films The Magic Christian(1969), Blood for Dracula (1974), Back in the USSR (1992), The Revenge (2002) and Rush Hour 3 (2007). He is the recipient of numerous accolades, including an Academy Award, two British Academy Film Awards, ten César Awards, two Golden Globe Awards, as well as the Golden Bear and a Palme d'Or.🎂

[goober-37]

Bit of a rant post here so bear with me or just ignore it. I just need to put my thoughts out where maybe people can relate so I know I’m not alone in that sense.

It is so isolating being the only queer person in my family. It’s isolating being in my family in general. First it was “no more sleepovers with boys, you guys will have sex” when I was in 6th grade. As if me and my guy friend at the time ever thought of that. All we did was okay legos, play Minecraft, drink Mountain Dew, and watch YouTube or movies. Then when I got outed in 8th or 9th, it was “no more sleepovers with girls too”

I haven’t been able to openly date anyone or hang with friends in years. I had to hide my last relationship from my parents and I felt horrible. I loved my partners. I wanted to parade them around and brag that I had 2, awesome people I was dating. When I dated someone long before them, I was so watched and monitored I couldn’t even truly be me and I felt embarrassed my partner knew my parents were always watching.

I couldn’t even have sleepovers with friends. The last time I had a slumber party was in elementary school. I’m almost 20 years old now. I haven’t gotten to stay up late talking about tiktoks or YouTube iceberg videos or anything with a friend in almost a decade.

I have a lot of friends, sure, but do I ever get to see them outside text messages? No. I’d say I miss a time when I could freely have friends but I honestly don’t remember a time I could. My parents were strict, controlling, and loved to make my friends laugh at my expense.

The last time I hung with friends in high school was with my partners at the time and I hadn’t even known it was a date. I broke the rules and went to hang with them and was so anxious I almost threw up the entire day. Still one of my favorite memories despite how unreasonably afraid I was. I’d gotten grounded from electronics for 1 week and seeing friends for 2 weeks. Totally worth it.

Even now as an adult who can do what I want with my free time, I’m too afraid to hang with friends because of what my parents have been like. I see the shit my younger siblings get to do and get away with and honestly, I’m extremely jealous.

I envy my sister who gets to hang with her besties every other week. Who has the balls to sneak out and make late night memories with them. Who gets to go to school events. Who gets to make plans shorter notice than I could’ve ever done.

I envy my brother who gets to hang with all his friends in the neighborhood. Who gets to make plans during church to hang with a friend right after. Who gets to go to the park nearby with them. Who gets to play kickball in the cul de sac with. Who gets to do fun extracurriculars like flag football and boxing.

I envy the parents my parents are with them. I wish they’d been less controlling over me. I wish they hadn’t instilled so much fear in me that now I don’t even have the balls to maintain friendships outside interacting with them online and over text.

My parents have taught me to be alone and I’ve forced myself to be content with it. To just be like “oh I’m just introverted, I like my me time!”. In reality, I’m so alone. I want to make memories with friends and be able to talk about it, brag about it, post about it.

[hotttsexe]

Une rencontre et plus si affinité...