simp-for-steve

[simp-for-steve]

hello!! any chance we could get something steddie X reader ? idk what but something good and comforting (or even angst + comfort) for the soul because it's fucking emo hours in the real world and I hate it here lmao. if not, that's all good. thank you for your time 💞

ill and idle talk

A/N: um absofuckinglutely i will, i wrote this at 1:30 am after sobbing for a good 20. annd i’ve been thinking about them ALL week so here u go, nonnie. they are so pretty, i love our boyfriends <3

Pairings: Steve Harrington x GN!Reader, Eddie Munson x GN!Reader

Summary: Your boys never want you to be scared of telling them anything. But sometimes, it’s fated. 2.5k words.

Warnings: fluff, cursing, hurt/comfort, sickness, very very minor angst/worry, taking medicine (pill form), nakedness/bathing, pet names (sunshine, bug, baby, honey, sweets), cuddling, kissing

Phlegm's a bitch. You know that now, and your nostril has been clogged since yesterday. Which means you tossed and turned through the chilled night, shivering and sniffling and hacking up whatever dripped down your throat. You felt kind of gross. Curled in on yourself and flip-flopping between overheating and freezing, which was frustrating enough without the phone's constant shrill ringing.

But you can't take the lecture right now. Not in the hallowed halls of your childhood home. Not standing on wobbly feet that are numb with frost. You'd rather keep the lights off and duck under your pillow. Then the phone stopped. And silence coaxed you in, a little staticky as the absence of screeching settled into the dry wall of the empty house.

But only once the smoke had cleared did a spark finally catch, fist pounding on the door.

"You alive in there, sunshine?"

That's who you were worried about. Tucked in his favorite sweater, pushing a hand through his floppy hair, frowning over nothing was Steve. Fretting and fussing like he's not barely twenty and stress sweating over it. You roll over, nudging deeper into your thick comforter, tucking it around your shoulders with a sigh.

"Spare key," you grumble, loud enough muffled behind linens, but he already had it pinched between his fingers before he got out of his beamer. A gust of cool air rushes in behind him, so he slams the front door and shuffles down the hall to your creaking bedroom, kneeling beside your bed and tilting his head.

Reluctantly, and only after he brushes his fingers across your forehead, you open your eyes to his worry. Staring between his furrowed brows and the soft pink tint below his droopy eyes.

"You're burning up," he huffs, "lemme run you a bath."

But you won't have it, burying your damp face into your mountainous hoard of cotton sheets and down pillows because at least it's warm. Where he's standing, the light is blinding and cold air lingers like fog up from the carpet.

"Come on, please, you been stewing in here for a day and a half. You're not getting any better, and we miss you," he coos, running the tips of two fingers down the exposed slope of your shoulder, fiddling with the thick strap of your tank top and sighing.

"Alright... well, can I at least make you something to eat? Maybe soup or a nice afternoon breakfast?"

"Don't want it," you grumble.

"How 'bout a glass of water?"

"Nuh-uh."

He drops his head, a little defeated by your stubbornness and hating what it'll make him do. But you're satisfied and smiling at the return of softened silence. Like butter left out in the summer time, melting from the inside out, smooth across the scratchy surface of toast, messy in its little porcelain dish.

"Sweetheart," he coos, "you gotta get up. Or I'm gonna call him, and you're not gonna like it—"

"Leave me alone, Steve. I'm fine."

Oh, but now he's not feeling very nice. In fact, his cheeks burn a little because you've bested him. Even if you're not fine, it's not fair how much he cares about you only for you to disregard yourself like nothing.

"No. I came all the way over here for you, and—you had me worried sick, baby, I'm serious, I thought something really bad happened—"

"I didn't ask you to," you pant.

"Ouch," he huffs, "but a lot of the things I do without you having to ask are because I care about you"—there's a soft shuffling as he crosses the room, tip toeing to dodge crumpled tissues and water bottles on the way to your landline. You hear it ring, the handheld little speaker whirring and buzzing from where he stands with a hand perched on his hip—"Definitely a fever. Been bundled up since Wednesday... I know... that's what I said... up to you... m'kay... okay. We'll see you in a bit, then. Alright. Love you."

"Don't want any trouble, Stevie," you whisper, and he sighs, feeling his shoulders hunch forward. Because he knows from the hitch in your breath that you're about to cry.

"You're not in trouble, honey, it's just..."—he turns with a hand carding through his soft and brown hair, but he can't bring himself to your eyes and the way you sniffle under the covers—"you know how much I love you, but if I can't get you to eat somethin', then I'm gonna need backup."

Steve's light-footed back to you. Seated against your bent knees, knuckles in-line along the warmth of your bundled thigh. He deflates deeper; he looks so tired, and your heart wenches at his sudden mindlessness. Sweeping through the motions with only a backdrop of feeling. His back curls like a cat when he leans down, cool breath fanning across your temple to kiss your cheek. You rustle from underneath, jutting your chin out and puckering your lips. He beams down at you, and though the smile doesn't reach his eyes, he still looks soft and happy. And he kisses you.

He kisses you like the rest of it doesn't matter. Doesn't matter that you're sweating into his palm and squirming to kiss him deeper. Or that you're still stubborn while giggling against his cold mouth.

"Shh, 'm tryin' to kiss you, sunshine," he hums.

"Shit!" You shriek and weasel your hand out to push his chest Away. He rears back with eyes wide.

"What? What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"No, no, but..."

"... But what? Don't leave me hangin'," he teases, leaning down again, but you squirm and curl your fingers into his sweater's loose collar.

"You're gonna get sick, that's what!" you chirp, "You're gonna catch my fever, and then we'll have to bundle you up, too—"

"It's a little late for that, don'tcha think?"

You squint up at him, fingertips still hanging from his cableknit, weighing his neck down more than pushing him away. Drawing him closer in a weak attempt to preserve his fragile health. But it's all in vain when his nose bumps yours, and he cups your jaw and tilts your head back so he can kiss you like he missed you. Because he was all pacing by the phone for days, forgetful and manic during car rides with Eddie, and when it started to drizzle this morning, he couldn't find it in himself to feel comforted when he knew something was missing.

"There you are," Eddie hoots, locking the front door behind him and toeing his boots off by the welcome mat. He jogs down the hall, unsheathing two palm-sized bottles from the pockets of his slick leather jacket. "Sorry I barged in. Door was unlocked."

You nod deeper into your pillow. As Eddie presses a kiss to Steve's temple, his ringed knuckles go soft along your temple.

"Looks like someone's got the flu," he says, sitting cross-legged on the floor, chain jangling against his thigh, and he scoots closer, "how're you feelin', bug? Brought you Vicks and some acetamino-whatever." He taps the edge of the small pill bottle against his palm, holding a white oval in between his thumb and forefinger. Steve lifts the glass of water to your clammed up hand, and you quickly swallow the pill down with a gulp.

"Oh, so you'll listen to him but not me," Steve teases, palming your side as you sit up and rest your head on his shoulder. You chuckle and nudge at his jugular with the bridge of your nose.

"How can you say no to those eyes?"

Eddie laughs and pats Steve's thigh.

"Fair enough," he huffs. Eddie snaps the light blue hairband from Steve's wrist, tying his wild hair back and tossing his heavy jacket over the foot of your bed.

"Alright, sweetheart, let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

You hum and let Eddie tuck his arm across your back to help you stand. And Steve thinks Eddie has always been good at that. At convincing both of you. He never liked metal or hard rock until Eddie asked him to one of his gigs. He was goo-goo-eyed the whole set, knowing he'd fall for any of Eddie's cons again and again.

Steve's thick sleeves bunch around his elbows, fingertips skimming the soapy and shallow water climbing the sides of the white porcelain tub, rippling out from the faucet in guttural waves, and slapping up against the edges. Eddie has you perched half-naked on the toilet seat, thumbing the minty, slimy gel over your chest, paying sweet attention to the base of your neck as you lean into his touch.

"Should be warm enough," Steve says, cranking the handle until the nozzle runs dry. And when you look at him with lazily hooded eyes, he looks so pretty. The steam licks at his chin, curling up around his cheeks and dashing smile. It threads into his hair, makes it damp until it goes a little flat.

"Thank you, Steve," Eddie coos. He stands with one hand slotting fingers with yours, pushing the other through Steve's hair, slicking it back through no purpose of his own besides tilting his head back to give him a wet kiss.

You finally breathe easy, sliding down into the bath, thick slabs of bubble creeping up your calves. They sit watching you like predators, glancing across the way at each other as Eddie slumps mirror to Steve, sat back on his haunches and arm laid across the edge of the tub. Except, maybe less like predators and more like they care. More like Steve cupping the hot water in his palm and pouring it down your back. And he does it again when you sigh.

"Feelin' better, sunshine?"

But you just tuck your chin, eucalyptus and lavender coiling along your upper lip, and you wipe the snot from your nose with the back of your hand.

"Gross," you whisper, fingers wiggling beneath the short tide. Steve blinks, head swiveling to face Eddie who shrugs. His brows furrow, and he kicks at Eddie's thigh with a pointed frown.

"Hey," Eddie mumbles, glaring at Steve before going soft and catching a bead of sweat from your neck on his forefinger, "talk to us. What's goin' on?"

"Nothin'," you say.

"Nothin'? Really?"

"Mhm. Just... takin' a bath... with you two watching me," you sigh.

"Oh, well, we don't have to watch you, honey, we can wait for you out there," Steve says, insides flooding with concern and washing out his rosy cheeks, embarrassed and scrambling when you groan.

"It's fine."

"Doesn't sound fine to me," Eddie says.

"Oh, now you're listening?"

Steve flinches. "Woah, woah, hey, what's with the third degree?"

You open your mouth to speak, and when you look over, your eyes are red and tears roll down your wet cheeks. They're both stuck. Unmoving, stunned into silence with their hearts crashing to their stomach like thickly swallowed lead and sharp rocks. Refusing to settle and weighing them down. Only, with your eyes on Steve, he feels like he's on fire, blushing and hurt and a little fringed around the edges.

"You know, there's a reason I didn't take any calls or reach out," you sigh, breaking in your throat and hacking into your forearm, "It's not 'cause I didn't wanna talk to or see you two, alright? Because I did. And I do. But I don't need either of you to take care of me. I don't need to know you've seen me at my worst. I don't want to have forced you into caring about me. Well, too late, right?"

You turn to face the tiled wall, tracing your fingertip along the dip of grout between each one. All while Eddie goes to squeeze Steve's palm with a deep breath. Because he looks like he wants to die. Like it might be good to shrivel up if he's made you feel that way. Curling in on himself, feeling the knob of each of Eddie's knuckles with his fingers.

"You didn't..." Eddie sighs, "you didn't force us into anything, sweetheart. And you never have to worry about what we think of you because we love you. No matter what, got it? Even coughing all over us with snot pourin' out of your nose. Doesn't matter, okay?" He chuckles.

And he reaches for you, stroking the curve of your shoulder to coax you out again. To make it feel more like comfort than being bombarded. Because that's never what they wanted. They knew how you felt about the three of you. How they soothed your fears when it felt impossible. But in the end it was easier, you realized, to love and be loved like that. To feel together despite the noise and ruckus.

You turn to face them again, mouth tugged to the side. And Steve feels lighter when your fingertips rasp against his collar and up the column of his throat. No more scraping weight and heft where he sits. Just reaching.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. And he slants over the side of the tub to kiss your jaw in precious time, letting you feel the draw he has in your direction. Always, especially now, tugging as much as you are guiding.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Steve whispers, "we just care about you. A lot. And there's not harm in that."

You nod and let them lift you from the tub and towel dry your shivering body. Let them carry you to the bed and dress you in sweats and a tee. Let them feed you bits of vegetable washed down with a mild broth. Belly full, limbs laid out on the newly changed sheets, grabbing for something you can't quite convince the tip of your tongue to dictate.

Until Steve coils into your side, chin rested on the crown of your head, his warmth like a sauna with his sweater draped over your headboard. You palm his hot chest when he wraps around you with a husky groan straight from the maw, muzzling himself in the crook of your jaw, laying selfish kisses there until the skin is raw.

Then Eddie pads across the floor, arms outstretched and rings shoved into his pocket. He plops down and shakes the whole bed frame, settling as the mattress bounces and Steve’s heavy head thuds back against your throat. You whine and hold the back of his skull.

“Jesus, sorry, sorry,” Eddie pants when Steve flips him off.

“Good thing I’m all cozy,” he says, “Next time you won’t be so lucky, Munson.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and peers down at you. A wavy tendril slips from his low and loose bun, and you tuck it behind his ear. So he smiles and leans close. Fingertips tracing your nose, cupid’s bow, lips, and he tugs at your lower lip so he can kiss you with svelte and yearning intent. And after you kiss him, too, he settles with a grin, pressing one more to the heel of Steve’s palm. To rest further into stillness. Unhurried waking and the dewy relentlessness of influenza.

masterlist

[simp-for-steve]

"Let them see."

pairing: Pedro Pascal x male reader

summary: You and Pedro are on the set of Gladiator 2, but he pulls you away for some time alone.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, Pedro Pascal RPF (real person fiction), unprotected sex, bot! reader, first person, p in a, kissing, swearing, anal, fingering, hand over mouth, analingus, creampie, public sex, partial nudity, dom Pedro, sub reader, aggressive, overstimulation, hickeys, fake blood

word count: just under 4000

A/N: I tried writing with "you" instead of "I" for this one. Let me know how it reads and what you prefer!!

By midday, you were done with the sweltering heat in Morocco. The sun’s ever-beaming presence had forced your energy into a restless state, unable to do anything but sweat as you watched Pedro work, seemingly oblivious to the sun's downpour of heat onto the Earth. His film, Gladiator II, had placed him in an extremely demanding state; his scenes today consisting heavily of action, fighting energetically and unapologetically. Sure, he was drenched with sweat, but his energy didn’t drop a tick, working with determination. You felt bad, his costume a thick, heavy, black leather suit of armour. You could not fathom how he hadn’t fallen unconscious by now. 

Finally, after a particularly bloody fight scene, leaving him drenched in fake blood, the directors called a break. Immediately, you moved towards him, following behind as he and the other actors moved towards their tents, accumulating in the largest and coolest one. Slipping inside, you moved towards Pedro, locating him through his loud and wheezing laugh, until you found him with his back turned, speaking to a few people working on the film. You stood there for a few seconds, unwanting to have to force yourself into conversation with people you barely know. It was awkward, hovering around on set, waiting around for Pedro. But it was worth it. He was worth it. The way he made you smile and laugh every time he spotted you and pulled a discreet but low-key obvious face at you made up for all the hours of standing around in pools of sweat. 

You watched as he spoke energetically with the others, laughing freely, unconstrained in demeanour. His presence brooded comfort, and slowly, you made your way closer towards Pedro, reaching out and grabbing his hand. You felt his body shift and turn until he was looking down at you, his height and broad shoulders encompassing your entire eyesight. Immediately, his smile welled into a large grin, the sides of his eyes crinkling, full of glee. Pedro pulled you into a hug, enwrapping your body with his, chuckling into your ear.

“I missed you,” he said, smiling down at your face. You felt your cheeks blush, holding his hand sheepishly. He gripped it tighter, pulling you near him. He smelt like he usually did, but new notes of leather from his outfit, and a small plastic scent from the fake blood. His eyes stared into yours, deep, affectionate, and wanting. You felt his thumb run over the top of your hand, focusing completely on you, the world a void around you. Sounds were impermanent, passing around you like a thick oil. You were ensheathed, engrossed, devoted to Pedro.

“Can I show you a place?” He asked, his voice hopeful. “It’s not far, I promise.”

“Okay.”

—--

He pulled you into a small alcove in the current set, hidden from the general view of anyone who might pass by. He had dragged you across the set despite your cries of protest in disrupting the space, promising that nothing bad would happen. Exposed under the heat, you couldn’t help in your sun-drunk state but stare at the flash of his bare thighs underneath his leather belt, the cords rippling around his figure, gifting a flew glances of bare skin. They entranced you, teasing your already semi-hard penis. In the alcove, you were hidden from the sun, but it was bright enough to see Pedro. He laid back against the stone wall, his costume engrossing him into the space, and you watched as his chest heaved, his shoulders heavy from the heat. 

“Im not wearing anything under this,” he said, his head still tilted upwards but his eyes downwards, searching you. “The heat is unbearable.”

“I can tell,” you say, moving closer to him, resting your hands on his waist.

“Fuck. Is it that noticeable?” Pedro says, eyes wide, suddenly aware of his partial nudity.

“Only to me,” you whisper, leaning up to his ear. He places his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your hips are touching, his firm grip on you locking you in place. Slowly, he dips his head, moving his lips closer to you. Pedro’s lips tease you, grazing against yours in the proximity.

“I’m only for you.”

Pedro’s soft whisper of confirmation breaks the barrier of your lips, cascading you with lust. Fervently, you and Pedro press into each other, tongues dancing, sending small shocks into your body. You moan into him, your mouth pressing into his with desperation. Your body felt fuzzy, your senses dwarfed by Pedro’s intoxicating presence. You were drunk on him, engorged with him. He made out with fury, his dark beard scratching into your skin, its coarse ends stabbing into you in the best possible way. His moustache pressed into your top lip, pushing your skin into the perfect mould. 

You could taste the fake blood that had settled on the left side of his lip, it’s plastic taste pulling you away.

The departure of your lips against his left Pedro bewildered, his shocked face almost comical in his costume.

“What's wrong?” He whispered, and you noticed how his eyes gleamed in the shadows, the dark hazel tint rebounding the sun's glow off the floor.

“The blood. I don’t want to smudge it.” You whisper, suddenly aware of the context that surrounds you. This felt wrong, but Pedro was so good.

“Who cares?” he replied, a small smile lining his face. He stepped closer, pushing you lightly onto the cold stone wall behind you. Its chill sent a rush throughout your body, a stark contrast to the heat that surrounded you. His hand pressed against your shoulder kept you in place, his dominant presence chipping away at your dignity, forcing you to submit. You watched as he ran a finger across his face, coating his finger in the fake blood that had either mixed with your saliva or his sweat. You let out a small protest and he began tracing his finger across your face, staining your skin with the fake blood.

“Let them see.”

He kissed you with a fury, his entire body pressing into you, overpowering you. You could do nothing but attempt to keep up, his tongue pressing into yours with a vigour. He growled into you as he rubbed his body over yours, grinding his waist into your stomach. Even through the leather that dotted his thighs, you could feel the straining hard-on that he burdened. His hand cupped your chin, pulling your face into his as you kissed. They were sweaty, but he gripped you with a firm passion, his fingertips branding your skin with deep red marks from how tightly he held onto your face. Pedro’s eyes were closed, wholly engrossed with your lips. He growled as you made out, the animalistic noise making your knees weak, and you found yourself struggling to stay upright.

 It felt as if there was a supernatural presence pushing you down to your knees, head parallel to Pedro’s cock. As he let you move lower down his body, you admired how Pedro looked as General Acacius. The black outfit, the aggressive appearance, it was too much. Paired with how easily you submit to Pedro, he was astoundingly breathtaking. He looked perfect. Just the sight of him made your cock throb in your shorts, and it throbbed even harder when you pressed a gentle hand onto the bulge of the leather tunic. It responded in excitement, bouncing at your touch, grinding into your hand.

 Desperately, you pawed through the leather strips, feeling for his cock. The leather was heavy, weighing into your hand, but his cock pushed them upwards, acting as a rest for the strips. You pushed blindly, but even a blind man could have easily located his cock. Touching the underside of his member, you revelled in its sheer size, its length and extreme girth. Your soft touch sent shivers across Pedro’s body, his head bowing, staring at the top of your head. Wrapping your hand around as much of his member as you could, you felt his body release a deep exhale. As you began stroking achingly slow, Pedro began to sweat even more, his forehead furrowed and glistening. Within the tunic, your hand was clammy, and your movements across his cock become more slick by the second. Moving your hand, you cupped his balls. They hung low from his body, you could tell, but their weight relayed the fact that Pedro had been without an orgasm for days, waiting for you, waiting for this. Pedro was always exhausted by the end of a shoot day, so, at midday, he still had the libido you were accustomed to. 

With a necessity, you pushed at the leather strips, leaving his cock exposed in the dim light. The sight of his throbbing, glossy member sent a shiver directly to your cock, practically tearing at the seams of your shorts. Pedro’s dick was leaking precum like a geyser, coating his head, running down the underside of his piece. You admired how it throbbed with fury, its weight pulling his uncut tip downwards, practically begging for your mouth. Complying with Pedro’s obvious need, you placed your lips on his tip, tasting his precum as if it were a Michelin-star meal. Its sweet flavour swirled across your lips as he throbbed, and you smiled as you lowered your head down his cock. The heavy grunts that emanated from Pedro’s body above drove you further, pushing you deeper. You were eager to swallow all of him, no matter how badly his size made your jaw ache. You felt yourself choking as you tried to take him all in your mouth, but you pushed deeper, struggling to keep your breath regulated. You huffed his scent the closer you got to his waist, the tips of his pubic hair tickling your nose.

 Above you, Pedro struggled to remain quiet, aware of his location, but unable to hinder his noises from your mouth around his cock. He let out a succession of moans, low and hoarse. He was sweating profusely, the fake blood running down his face, his hair becoming more matted by the second. He watched your struggle in a darkened awe, watching your willingness to please him. He watched as you struggled to breathe, sparking an animalistic joy within him. Pedro’s eyes were dark, fueled by lust and hunger. You were his prey, and he was ready to absolutely wreck you.

Pulling your head off his cock, spools of spit covered the distance between the tip of his member and your lips. You gathered your composure, air finally flowing back into your lungs again.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

Looking up at Pedro, you noticed how much his demeanour had changed. Instead of the cheery, easygoing person that was publicly fronted, you now saw him: A sex-driven, lustful beast. His breath was heavy and short, and his eyes were sharp, unsympathetic. 

“Did I tell you to stop?” He repeated, his voice heavier, no longer asking. Demanding.

Immediately, you wrapped your lips around his cock, and lowered your face down his cock. You began sucking with a need, sucking your cheeks in, running your tongue on the underside of his girth, tracing intricate patterns, invisible letters of devotion.

His sudden grip on your short hair locked you in place. He was rough, pushing you down his cock in a fluid motion. Pedro had entrapped you, his hands restricting unwanted movement. Your lips could not leave his cock. 

Pedro began to move your head with a rhythm, rocking your head up and down his as if it were an object. You struggled to adjust to his speed, but you revelled in the way he easily overpowered you. You could taste the sweat that lined his skin, a salt flavour that contrasted with his sweet precum nicely. He hit the back of your throat with a satisfying push, his cock’s rock-hard state breaking your throat into his shape. You moaned in symphony with Pedro, your mind fazed from the heat, and your body intoxicated with his taste. He began to thrust himself, filling your mouth with his member. He pushed against the back of your mouth, teasing your gag reflex, muffling your moans with his cock. He thrust into you desperately, jacking his cock off with your face. His hands were tight around your head, his sweat matting your hair, locking itself around his hands. His cock was relentless, hitting the back of your throat with a driving force, fucking up your jaw. It ached, but you pushed past the feeling, absorbing his precum and getting high off his sweaty musk, overpowering from his hours of work in the heat.

 Pedro’s thrusts quickly increased in pace as he huffed heavily above you, the noises not coming to fruition, stuck at the back of his throat. He was hoarse, his noises dry and stifled, but he fucked you with rage, the leather tassels slapping into your face with disregard.

Suddenly, his cock left your mouth completely as his body tensed up. You felt his thighs clench, holding off his orgasm, as his cock throbbed, bouncing in the warm air. The veins were dark, his cock head a deep purple.

“Turn Around.”

As soon as you stood up, he pushed you against the cold wall and yanked at your shorts until they fell to the ground. Harshly, he dug at your hole through your briefs, applying deep pressure, making your body shiver. Your cock felt heavy, straining at your briefs, creating a damp tent. You jumped as he ran his hand down the waistband of your briefs, running his fingers over your asscheek, brushing up against your hole. Pulling away your briefs, he left your entire backside exposed, your hole winking up at him, desperate, needy. 

Pedro’s stubble against your bare skin felt insane. The coarse ends scratched at your sensitivity, and you gasped when you felt his tongue run over your hole. He toyed with you, savouring his treat with delight. He kissed your hole passionately, his soft lips a burning sensation that spread directly into the head of your member. His tongue darted in and out tentatively, willing moans of desire from the back of your throat. You whimpered into him, knees weak, as he slowly began stretching you out, his tongue pushing deep, sometimes replaced with a finger, sometimes two. Pedro was deliberate to avoid your prostate, having fucked you too many times that he knew exactly where to please you. He wanted you to feel it all when his cock was balls deep inside you, not just his fingers. But still, the mere presence of Pedro made you insanely close to orgasm, your entire body a loosely contained tingle. You felt like you were high, his roughened hands pushing into you, prepping you for a thorough fuck.

Feeling him move behind you, you timidly began to turn your top, arching to look at him. But before you could even lock eyes, you felt Pedro thrust his entire length into you. The sudden presence pushed your body into the wall, too weak to do anything but take it. He thrust slowly, willing a small moan out of your body. You felt the heat rush up to your face, being so close to complete visibility. Your entire body shook, unprepared for his length, for the heat that rose into your stomach. You could feel his cock resting on your prostate, prompting small moans with every small jerk of movement from Pedro’s body. As his thrusts pushed deeper, rubbing along your prostate, you couldn't help but moan wildly, your cock throbbing with each grind of his cock. 

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stifle the noises streaming out of your mouth like a desperate plea, bouncing around your hideaway, reverberating out into the world. You whimpered, extremely aware of your state, half-clothed, with Pedro balls deep inside you, fucking you into oblivion. He, on the other hand, was cold, controlled. His moans were mere whispers, promises of confirmation, paired with the unmistakable sound of his balls slapping against your skin.

His hand over your mouth felt like a blessing. He pulled your head back, your back arched as he fucked you. Your hands left the wall, instead moving to your cock, but he slapped them away. Instead, you resorted to grabbing his arm in front of your face, weighing on it as if it were a piece of debris in an open sea. Your knees were weak, your legs numb as he pounded you, desperately gripping his arm, keeping you from falling.

His cock was relentless, pushing at your inner walls with the rage of his role. He attacked you methodically, his tempo unwavering. His moans into your ear were blindingly hot, the low growl moving directly into your throbbing cock. You pulsed with an urgency, jolted by each thrust against your prostate. His cock pushed into your inner walls forcefully, his heat burning his shape into you, like a wax mould. 

You moaned into his hand desperately, your breathing heavy and stifled. Pedro’s thrusts were deep, intertwining your bodies in a hushed chorus, a coveted sermon of lust. You loved being his, being used in this way, even if it meant risking your dignity. With every move of his cock reaching inside you, it felt like a promise. You were completely his. He owned you. And he definitely took advantage of that. Every glance at you on set had caused your cock to stir, his presence alone making you weak at the knees. And now he was knee-deep inside you, making you completely crumble under his hand.

His thrusts increased in speed, making your state even more dire. Your cock bounced wildly, thrown about by his movements in par with yours. Your thighs were locked together, tensed as you desperately held back your orgasm. Pedro’s small grunts had increased in volume, his movements more driven, more intense. He cursed into your ear, degrading you into his bitch, his slut, and you whimpered in agreement, too entranced by your pleasure to even comprehend what he said.  The sudden pressure from his lips on your neck threw you back to reality, the small pain of him latching himself onto you. He began to brand your skin with small bruises as he pummeled into you, closening his orgasm.

His hot kisses on your neck felt like a searing iron, the pain driving you closer to your limit. Between moans, you pleaded to Pedro, but his firm grip over your mouth left your words incomprehensible. He fucked you wildly, his cock a sledgehammer inside you, tearing at your walls, breaking down what little composure you had left. You were so close, and each thrust pulled you further away from reality. You didn’t feel anything but his cock driving into you and his attack on your neck, and you screamed against his hand in pleasure.

Nearing your orgasm, you felt his presence inside you even more, pushing into your lust-driven state, until you burst.

Your entire body shook, your cock bucking wildly as your hot white semen splattered onto the floor. Your back arched with ferocity, Pedro’s member still ramming into you. You felt your inner walls pulsate around his cock, its rock-hard state still pushing into your prostate, provoking a sixth splatter of come, then a seventh, then an eighth. You cried out, your fingers digging into his arm desperately. Your legs shook with the strength of your orgasm, and how Pedro still endlessly fucked your hole. Your chest heaved, desperate for breath, your synapses firing on overdrive, your body unable to comprehend even more pleasure from Pedro’s movements. Each kiss on your neck overtook your body as each of his speedy and lengthy thrusts transported you away from reality.

Suddenly, his hands moved away from your mouth, pushing your noises into the open. Instead, his hands moved to your waist, and Pedro began pulling your body into his cock even more. His thrusts had become lightspeed, pushing into you with an urgency. Your moans, now unfiltered and raw, drove him even further, and you felt his thighs clench with one final thrust.

He exploded deep within you with a low succession of howls, his seed filling every tiny crevice inside you. You cried out as you felt him seep into you, his cock throbbing, pushing at the sides of your ass. It pumped into you, impregnating you, leaking down the sides of his member.

Pedro pulled out, leaving your hole gaping, winking up at him as his semen fell down your skin, pooling at the underside of your ballsack. You whimpered as he pushed a finger inside you, admiring his efforts. You were completely loose, empty without him inside you.

Standing upwards fully, you practically fell into him, your legs numb. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. Looking up at Pedro, your lips met with contention. You made out slowly, entranced, stunned. His seed dripped from you, his heat departing with it, leaving you empty.

“Shooting in 5 minutes!” someone called behind you, tensing your entire body and his. Turning around, you were stunned to see a group of workers not even fifty steps away from you, oblivious to you and Pedro. If they really looked, you were sure that they would be able to see at least half of your body. The lack of clothing on your end would not be the best look, so you hurriedly set about getting dressed, his seed still dripping from you, hickeys across your neck, fake blood stained onto your face. 

Pedro chucked at the sight of you. He pulled you back into him, his hair a mess, undoubtedly a similarity to yours, and pressed a soft kiss against your lips.

“Let them see.” He said, his words a mere whisper. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, timid in Pedro’s presence.

“Let them see,” He repeated, his eyes locked onto yours. And you did. For the rest of the day, the fake blood strewn across your face remained, raising a few eyebrows, especially when a few others saw the chain of hickeys across your neck. You revelled in it, the coveted romance between you and Pedro. People could speculate, but only you and Pedro really knew. You were his toy, and he wanted everyone to know that you were taken.

[simp-for-steve]

benedictus benedicat

summary: you have always wanted to fuck a gladiator pairing: emperor geta x male reader x lucius verus word count: 2k warning: male reader smut!

| masterlist |

You awoke to snakes of warmth slithering around your body. You soon realized that they were the limbs of countless naked men and women. 

It was routinary for the new royalty of Rome to place feasts in times of great victory and conquest to expand the empire. In the morning, there would be feasts of the most exotic fruits and viands the colonies could produce, wine would flow down cups as if it were from the Nile.

At night, however, there would be the feasts of flesh. The most elite and expensive whores would be brought to the palace for a night full of sex and wine, a feast that you have frequented at the request of the Emperor. 

The older emperor had always sought your company, especially during trying times. He would always look at you with his golden eyes. His pale hands are at your neck, and there are gold rings of many different colored jewels. He loved to use you, taking hours of thrusting and licking. You watched as his younger brother would go through many different men and women every night — but the older emperor took his time on using you, only you. 

Many of the elite members of the parties would try to come to you, old greying men of the senate glancing at you as you rode the golden emperor. At times, they would try to touch you, tug on your arm or your hair. The emperor was quick to scold them, threatening their lives for even laying a finger on you. You felt special, like a hero from an old myth defending his muse. 

You stood to see him near the window overlooking the Colosseum, sunlight casting a ray against his fiery hair. He was naked, his pale yet muscular body reflected light like quartz. He was much taller than his twin, and broader than the younger emperor who was scrawny. He flinched when he heard you come near. 

“Did I startle you, sire?” you said. Wrapping a silk blanket around your body. 

He shook his head, his eyes glazing down your frame. He gestured for you to come closer. He had always stood out from anyone in the room. His eyes were stained with red powder and his lips plump and pink. He took the robe off of you, his hand on your neck forcing you to look up at him.

“How many times have I spoken to you about covering yourself?” he said, his thumb rubbing on your lower lip. “Never be ashamed of your body my little dove.”

“Forgive me, sire—” you uttered before he pressed his lips on yours. It tasted of wine, his tongue toying with yours. His other hand snaked around your back before falling against your ass. His lips soon find your neck, each kiss deep and wet. You stare at the Colosseum behind him, in awe of its grand architecture. 

Emperor Geta stopped his wet “trail against your skin. He followed your gaze, a smile forming against his lips. “Have you ever been with a gladiator, little dove?” he said. 

“I have always been with you, sire,” you said. “but the idea does strike me.” you smiled.

“Then return to my chambers tonight,” he said, slipping a finger inside your mouth. He pressed against your shoulders forcing you down on your knees. You looked up at him with his erection teasing centimeters away from your lips. You licked his tip and slowly engulfed his hardness. He moaned and raked his hand through your hair. His little dove. 

The night was cold and dry. A  guard had led you to the Emperor’s chambers, a large room adorned with gold treasures. His bed was the biggest you have ever seen, draped in the whitest silks, and his nightstand was littered with coins and gold cups. Your eyes wandered to look for your golden emperor. He stood at the corner near the window, his shoulders draped in the finest toga. 

“My little dove,” he said, his eyes gleaming. In his hands were two cups, one for himself and one he handed over to you. You took a sip and let the bitter red liquid drip down your throat. “I have a gift for you.”

“A gift? My sire, I am unworthy,” you said. He gestured for his guards. They brought in a man cloaked in a ragged robe, torn and dirty. He was large, larger than you and the emperor, his figure cast a shadow against the flames and candles. 

“I have brought you,” he said, walking towards the man. “A gladiator.” He pulled off the hood to reveal a gladiator you have seen fight in the arena. He was tall and broad, more muscular than the emperor, his body was littered with cuts and scars, his chest more hairy and his beard unkempt. A red piece of cloth bound his eyes and wrists. He unrobed the man until he was wearing nothing but a piece of tunic and a blindfold. The man flinched, his breathing heavy. 

Geta sat on a chair near the bed, legs crossed and cup still in hand. You inched near the gladiator, your hands touching his sun-kissed skin. It was warm, sweat dripping down his nape. He smelled of ash and smoke. “He was given wine sourced from Asia, they say that it is infused with flowers that would provide a person with intense lust—a madness that renders them more beast than man,” Geta said. “Go on, have your fill. I am only here to watch.”

“Fascinating,” you whispered. You gently pushed him on the bed before pulling the tunic, his cock standing tall and thick, the tip leaking. You went down on your knees to take it inside your mouth. Your jaw ached from the girth. He writhed and cursed before grabbing your head and pushing you down with force. You gagged from the sudden motion, your eyes tearing. He fucked your mouth like a raging animal, stroking his cock with your mouth. His grip on your hair was tight and painful. 

“Take it, whore.” he said, his voice deep and gravelly.

Geta watched amused. His free hand toyed with the wine while another palmed his growing hardness. The gladiator let go of your head, and you gasped for air, drooling and panting. He rips off your tunic before pushing you down the bed. He spits on his hand before toying with your hole, he was rough and callous, a stark difference from the gentleness of the emperor. He pushed his thick cock deep into your hole, and you shouted from the stinging pain. He fucked you repeatedly until your knees and arms gave out. Soon, the thick manhood thrusting deep inside you brought pleasure throughout your body, you writhed and moaned, your cock rubbing against the silk. 

You gripped the sheets so tightly you could feel the soft fabric rip. Strong blows of force slammed against your hips as you clamored for air and release. You looked up to gain sight of the emperor. He stared at you with eyes filled with wanton lust. He spat on his palm and continued to stroke his aching cock. 

“Stop,” you hear the emperor's command. “Take your cock out, gladiator.” 

The gladiator grunted, easing up and taking his hardness out of your hole. You collapsed on the mattress panting and tired. You feel Geta’s ringed fingers smooth your hair. He gestures for you to look up, his golden eyes are now large pits of black. 

He bends down to kiss you, his tongue tastes of bitter wine. He gestures for the gladiator, he is glistening in sweat and smells like a day’s work. Geta grabs your hair and pushes it down the gladiator’s cock, pushing and pulling your head to stroke the warrior’s aching hardness. The emperor unclasped his tunic, and layers of gold cloth fell on the floor. You take his cock in your hands, stroking the pale cock while you sucked on the warrior. 

You took turns sucking on their cocks. Geta taking a hand and endlessly slapping your ass till it turned red. “What a greedy slut you are, my little dove,” said Geta. “as if taking a royal cock was not enough, you had to turn yourself into a common whore for a gladiator.”

You hummed on their cocks, your mouth too filled taking each cock in alternate strokes to even say a word. “Go on then gladiator, take his ass and fuck your fill,” he said in a snobbish tone. The gladiator went to the bed to take his place, going down to lick your aching hole. His beard was rough against your cheeks, but the wet licks he left on your hole made your legs shake and go weak. His hands gripped your ass, kneading the fatty flesh as he lapped on the hole he was soon to fuck. 

You soon felt the gladiator slowly sheath his big cock back into your hole. You wanted to gasp but Geta’s cock was still in your mouth. They both fucked into your holes, gaining some sort of non-verbal message to fuck you in the same rhythm. It was too much, you thought, your mouth and your ass getting fucked by large cocks. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, your knees weak while your shoulders trembled trying to have some balance. 

“Fuck—I’m close,” Geta moaned. “Go on gladiator, fill that hole with your seed. I shall do the same to his mouth.”

The room was filled with symphonious moans and grunts accompanied by loud slaps of flesh. You could feel the gladiator's breath on your nape, his large arms hugging you as he thrust even more. He takes your leaking cock in his hands, the pre-cum dripping down your shaft providing enough lubrication to make his strokes slip. 

Their breaths became labored, Geta whispered a thousand curses while the gladiator spoke in a language you could not understand. You were close, your climax teasing at your tip. Your whole body convulsed as you reached your high. Geta came into your mouth, leaving a loud grunt before pulling away. The gladiator hugged you tighter as he came, emptying his warmth inside you. 

Geta called for a bath, leaving you and the gladiator in bed. You stared at his body in slumber. He was handsome, you thought, full brows, a Grecian nose, and a body packed with dense muscle. You tried to touch his chest before his hand swiftly caught it. 

“I have no intention of hurting you,”  you said. “Are you okay? Do you still feel feverish?

“I should be the one asking you that question,” he sat down on the bed, a piece of cloth covering his groin. “I didn’t know what came over me, I’m sorry.”

You chuckled, his face dumbfounded. “You think you’re the first person to fuck me like that?” 

He chuckled as well, running a hand through his damp hair. 

“And so the mighty gladiator laughs? I thought if you even smiled a little your face would crack,” you said, his smile dropped garnering a bigger laugh from you. 

“Tease me again and I might just fuck that laugh away from you.”

“Yeah? Maybe I should tease you more then,” you said seductively before straddling his muscular thighs. You traced your hands on his muscles, his cock growing hard underneath you once more. 

“I dare you,” he said, pressing his lips against yours. 

if you likes this fic go check out some of my other stuff! want to request? don't be shy to send one!

[simp-for-steve]

Pinned Down and Pretty

Pairing : Eddie Munson x Male reader Tags: fluff, Established relationship Word count :761

Eddie usually considered himself a man of control, especially within the confines of his own trailer – his sanctuary. But right now, sprawled on his back on his bed, a captive audience to the focused furrow of (insert name)'s brow, control felt like a distant memory warped by a heavy metal riff.

"Baby, are you sure you know what you're doing?" Eddie asked, his voice a little strained. He wasn't exactly scared of eyeliner. But he was…, maybe, a little terrified of (insert name)'s artistic license.

(Insert name) didn't look up, perfectly still on top of him, their knees pressing either side of his hips, effectively pinning him to the cluttered expanse of the bed. The scent of (insert name)'s cologne – something like pine needles and old books – filled Eddie's senses, a welcome distraction to the sharp point nearing his eye. "Relax, Munson. I've watched my sister do this a million times. Besides, you'll look amazing."

"Amazing how? Like a member of KISS? Because if so, Wayne's gonna have questions, and I'm not sure I'm ready to explain the finer points of glam rock to him tonight."

(Insert name) finally looked up, a playful glint in his eye. "Trust me. It's…subtle. Subtle, yet powerful. Think less Gene Simmons, more…Robert Smith."

Eddie winced. "The Cure? Seriously? I thought you were into, like, Springsteen."

"I am into Springsteen," (insert name) said, a touch of exasperation in his voice. "But that doesn't mean I can't appreciate a good eyeliner moment. Now, hold still."

Eddie watched (insert name)'s face, the way the light caught the soft curve of his cheek, the determined set of his jaw. It was a face Eddie could stare at for hours. He never thought he’d find someone like (insert name), someone who tolerated his…everything. The hair, the music, the general chaotic energy that seemed to orbit him at all times. But here they were. Dating. In his trailer. (Insert name) putting eyeliner on him.

The eyeliner touched his eyelid and Eddie flinched, his eye squeezing shut involuntarily. "Sorry! Sorry," (insert name) said quickly, Leaning back. " I  hadn't meant to hurt you"

"It's fine," Eddie said, blinking rapidly. "Just…sensitive eyes, I guess."

" I’ll  be more careful" (insert name) took a breath and leaned in again, his hand gently holding Eddie's chin steady. "Just look at me."

Eddie focused on (insert name)'s face, the dark depths of his eyes. It was easy to get lost in them. He felt the gentle pressure of the eyeliner pencil against the curve of his lid, a strange, ticklish sensation.

"You know," Eddie said, trying to distract himself from the proximity, "Wayne's gonna think I joined a cult."

(Insert name) laughed, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through Eddie's chest.

(Insert name) Leaned back again, studying his work intensity. He tilted his head, his expression a mixture of concentration and something else, something softer, something that made Eddie's pulse quicken.

"Almost… there," (insert name) said, his voice barely a whisper.

The silence stretched, punctuated only by the rhythmic thump of Eddie's heart. He tried to ignore the way (insert name)'s body was pressed against his, the heat radiating from him. Focus, Munson, focus.

"Okay," (insert name) finally announced, shifting from his spot on Eddie’s lap  "Done!"

Eddie sat up slowly, careful not to jostle (insert name) in the process. He scrambled off the bed and headed for the small, cracked mirror hanging on the back of  his bedroom door. He braced himself.

He stared at his reflection. Okay…it wasn't terrible. In fact, it was…kinda cool. (Insert name) had kept the line thin and subtle, just a touch of darkness that made his eyes look sharper, more intense. It wasn't KISS, and it wasn't quite Robert Smith, but it was definitely…Eddie. Just a slightly more…enhanced version.

"Well?" (Insert name) said from behind him, his voice laced with anticipation. "What do you think?"

Eddie turned, a grin spreading across his face. "I think…you have a hidden talent, (insert name)."

(Insert name) beamed, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I told you. I'm full of surprises."

Eddie stepped closer, cupping (insert name)'s face in his hands. "So am I." He leaned in and kissed him, a slow, lingering kiss that tasted like coffee and excitement.

When he finally pulled away, (insert name)'s eyes were sparkling. "So," (insert name) said, "where are we going, Mr. Rock Star?"

Eddie smirked. "Nowhere. We're staying right here." He pulled (insert name) back onto the bed, and as they fell back in a tangle of limbs and laughter,

[simp-for-steve]

And Sometimes I’m flattered but also, fuck you

pairing: Porn Star!Chris Evans x M!Reader

summary: Porn Star Chris decides to make his solo into a duo

a/n: request are open!

wc:1k

"Alright, let’s make some magic happen," Chris said, a playful glint in his eye as he stripped down, his muscular frame illuminated by the warm lights. He flashed you a charming smile, the kind that made your heart race and your cheeks flush.

You positioned the camera, your hands a bit shaky but excited. Chris always had that effect on you, and today was no exception. As he began his solo routine, you couldn’t help but admire his confidence and the way he moved – it was mesmerizing.

“Hey, are you getting this?” Chris teased, glancing at you through the lens. “I want to make sure this angle looks good.”

You chuckled nervously, trying to focus on the camera, but it was hard to ignore how attractive he looked as he lost himself in the moment. The way he touched himself, his breath hitching slightly, had you feeling a rush of heat coursing through your body.

Chris looked at the camera teasingly running his hands along his own body, fingers trailing across his chest and down to his abs. “Focus on this,” he instructed, giving a wink. “I want to see how much you enjoy the show. Just like that,” he added, gesturing for you to keep the lens trained on him.

you watched him, your heart raced in anticipation. Chris was nothing short of captivating. The way he moved, the way he owned his body, made it impossible to look away. He reached down, his fingers lightly brushing against his own skin, intentionally drawing out the moment.

“C’mon, don’t zoom out,” he teased, a playful challenge in his tone.

You looked through the camera, completely entranced by the scene unfolding before you. “You make it hard to focus,” you admitted, feeling heat creeping back into your cheeks.

You adjusted the camera, you felt the unmistakable heat of arousal pooling in your pants. You shifted your position, trying to dispel the tightness pressing against your pants, but it only grew stronger. Chris, however, was quick to notice.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked, a mix of concern and mischief dancing in his eyes. He paused his performance, his gaze locking onto yours. “You look a little… distracted.”

You swallowed hard, fiddling with the camera a bit too much. “I’m fine, just… focusing on getting the shot.”

Chris smirked, his brows arched. “Really? Because it looks like you’re a bit tense down there.” His eyes darted down, and you felt your face turn crimson. 

He stepped closer, mischief dripping from each word. “Would you like me to help you with that?” There was an edge of playfulness in his voice, and you could see the way his confidence only intensified the moment.

“I— um…” you stammered, your heart racing. The boldness caught you off guard, but there was something so enticing about it that made you want to give in.

“C’mon,” Chris said, his voice lowering, almost a whisper. “We’re friends, right? It doesn’t have to be awkward. I just want to make sure you’re taken care of, especially if you’re feeling uncomfortable.” He stepped even closer, the air thick with a magnetic tension that felt electric.

Your breath hitched, and you nodded slowly, words escaping you. “Okay, if you’re offering…”

Chris slid down to his knees looking up at you as he unbuckled your pants, the sound echoing in the quiet studio. He slid the zipper down with a slow, deliberate motion, and your breath hitched in your throat. Chris’s warm hands found their way inside, gently tugging your pants down just enough to free your cock.

The sensation of cool air hitting your skin sent shivers through your body. Chris’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned closer, his breath warm against you. “Ready?”

You nodded, a little lost for words as he wrapped his lips around the tip of your length, warmth enveloping you completely. A soft, muffled moan escaped your lips that you barely contained. 

“Just keep filming, don’t worry about a thing,” Chris murmured, pulling back slightly to look up at you, his lips glistening.

You gripped the camera tightly, trying to focus on capturing the moment through the lens while the sensations coursed through you. Chris took his time, his mouth working diligently, teasing the sensitive skin with his tongue, swirling and sucking just the way he knew you liked.

“Chris…” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, caught somewhere between disbelief and pleasure. 

He responded with a low hum, sending vibrations through your entire body as he resumed taking you deeper, his mouth moving rhythmically. The sight was mesmerizing, a mix of raw desire and sincere enjoyment as he worked diligently, eyes locked on yours.

“You look so good like this,” Chris murmured, pulling back just long enough to speak, his breath warm against your sensitive skin.

“Just… don’t stop,” you urged, your resolve wavering as he took you back into his mouth, expertly flicking his tongue against your length. The way he looked at you—so focused and eager—was enough to push you to the edge.

You could barely keep your hands steady on the camera, your focus blurring as the pleasure built within you. “God, Chris,” you gasped, feeling the tension winding tighter in your core.

The heat pooled deeper as Chris expertly worked you, the world around you fading into a distant noise. You could only focus on him, the way he was bringing you closer, and the way he effortlessly played to the camera, making it all feel intentional and electric.

“Chris, I’m close…” you warned, your voice trembling slightly.

“Cum go for me,” he encouraged, his tone dripping with seduction. 

you came, your body tensing as you felt the wave crash over you. Chris swallowed every bit, never breaking eye contact, thoroughly enjoying the moment shared between the two of you.

you caught your breath, you couldn’t help but watch him, still on his knees. He wore a proud grin, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

You chuckled breathlessly, unable to hide your smile. “That was definitely some good content.”

“Yeah, say next time we ditch the camera,” he winked, standing up and fixing your pants.

Taglist ~ @boypied @davrosfan23 @cronasluvr @reveryfics @supercap2319 @magicstarbits @capsicleforever @loverclear @gayaristocrat @ghostking4m @m4r13ll

[simp-for-steve]

General Acacius with his helmet ☺️

PEDRO PASCAL on the set of 'Gladiator II'

[simp-for-steve]

Would love to see oberyn, dieter, Frankie and Marcus stories! Especially if they are tops against a bottom reader

AN- YES YES YES YES! here is a pretty long (sorry i got carried away) one shot fic

Do you want to have sex with me?

Pairing: Dieter Bravo (the bubble) x Male!Reader

Word count: 4000 ish

Summary: you work on set as an assistant cinematographer, you have been noticing Dieter looking at you weird all day.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ MDNI!, Dieter Bravo, fic takes place during the bubble, you are working on set, Age Gap! P in A! Unprotected, Drug use! Top! Dieter Bravo, bot! Reader, small use of y/n

Feel free to give me feedback and tips, this is my first full fic. Also very open to submission, muh luh muh only lol

I am so fucking done with this film. The directors on Cliff Beasts Six, the newest instalment of the oh-so-amazing “Cliff Beasts” franchise, aren’t interested in anything but making a cheque, and it shows. Neither the actors nor anyone on set are engaged, and there is a palpable sense of boredom between everyone.

I, y/n, aged 19, applied for this position as an assistant cinematographer to get out of my shitty apartment and finally attempt to gain some experience in the film industry. How insightful it has been. Days of sitting by as the stuck-up actors on Cliff Beasts 6 (seriously 6??) argue over a script that has probably (definitely) been made through Chatgpt. It is amusing to watch though, watching how they bicker over the delivery of a single line, whilst everyone else just stands and watches idly. How invigorating. What I wouldn't give to just tell them all to shut the fuck-

“Hey! Runner! What the fuck are you doing standing on set? We're about to shoot!”

Oh shit, I’ve fucking done it. Now these fucking A-listers are staring at me like I’ve shot their half-dead Bichon Frise, but I still haven’t moved an inch.

“What the fuck is your problem? MOVE!” the voice calls out again.

“Uh, shit... My bad” I mumble as I stumble over the fake ground onto the warehouse floor. “That was great y/n, real smooth” I think as I curse under my breath towards the hostility of the director who has been doing nothing but sit on his ass and attempt to blow 0’s with his oversized vape. But seriously, I was barely on set, not even within proximity to the actors, or where the camera was supposed to run through. I slink towards the wall, enshadowed by the stacks upon stacks of props of dinosaur eggs, embarrassment manifesting onto my face in a burning shade of scarlet. With my head mow staring so intently at the scratch marks of the floor, avoiding the gaze of every single person on Earth, I run a shaky hand through my outgrown and bleach-damaged hair. I want to disappear right now.

I stay in the shadows silently, still not daring to look up at the scene the actors now play through. Instead, I listen to their half-assed attempts of acting fearful of the blue blob that will be the mother dinosaur to all the eggs I hide behind. Seriously, this film is genuinely a game of connect-the-dots on stereotypical children's interests. It’s humourable, how absurd they sound, screaming about some random nonsensical bullshit with a monotone seriousness. Looking up, I watch the flurry of movement on set, studying how the camera pans from the actors to the blue wall behind them. It’s better to focus on the elements I came here to study, rather than the shitshow that is the film. Whilst I stare, I catch a glimpse of a man in a red jacket looking my way, hidden behind the rocks and eggs. Turning my attention towards him, I notice his clenched jaw and deadpan focus on me.

“Shit, my fuckup on set must have really pissed him off” I mutter under my breath whilst my eyes stay locked onto him. We stay like that for a few seconds, mixed emotions manifesting on my face, whilst he just stares. Lifting my eyes slightly, we make eye contact, prompting a wave of realisation to wash over his face, and he promptly turns his direction back to discussions on the next scene. It makes sense, his change in demeanour. If I was a fucking celebrity, the last thing I would want is a scandal of workplace abuse blown out of proportion.

___________

They’ve wrapped up today’s shooting. Thank God. The rest of the shoot was relatively uneventful, I was only asked to help set up a few camera scenes whilst the actors took their lunch break. However, that actor in the red jacket kept on looking my way, but only for a fleeting few seconds each time. It was bizarre really, how many times I swear I caught him staring: between scenes, during script conversations (arguments really), whenever the actors left the set. It was comical how I would see his head turn away from my direction in parallel to whenever I looked in his. What the fuck is his problem? Anyways. Hiding my glee, I turn away from the remaining crew on set, embarking back to the hotel where the cast and crew were staying. I put earphones in as I walk, putting “Never Let Me Down Again” by Depache Mode on blast and loop (tlou reference), watching the sky warp and twist with clouds straight out of Junji Ito. As I walk, I picture how much I would change about the godforsaken cash grab of a film: the story, the camera angles, the compositions, the-

“Hey.” A breathless voice behind me whispers, barely audible over the drums blaring into my ears. Turning, I immediately freeze, in the realisation that this was the red jacket man, the one with the fucking lead paint stare. What the fuck does he want?

“Oh! Hey. Look man, if you’re pissed that I was standing on set, I genuinely didn’t realise. I didn’t mean to look like a dick. I’m really sor-”

“Do you want to have sex with me?” He asks.

“What?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?” He repeats, louder.

“I heard you the first time,” I reply, stunned, eyes blinking at him widely.

“Oh, well do you?” He questions, voice full of intent.

“Uhh”, what the fuck do I say? Is he fucking high?

“Yes? That's amazing, now?” he follows, oblivious to my stunned face. He grips my hand tight, and begins to pull me towards the hotel. More for his welfare, I allow him to. If he is high, I sure as hell wouldn’t want to have to deal with an overdose, pushing back the shooting back date further.

“What’s your name? Mine’s Dieter Bravo, but you probably already know that. You know, Oscar Winner?” He asks excitedly, almost desperately.

“What?”

“What’s your name?” He repeats, obviously unfocused on me, but rather the journey ahead, which he slinks across, acting like a fucking ninja.

“Oh, y/n”. I reply flatly, still stunned by his blunt and forward character.

“So fucking beautiful, you know that? You’re so fucking beautiful. Couldn’t keep my eyes off you. Please let me fuck you?” He grumbles, eyes now locked onto mine, searching, savouring me.

“Sorry, but are you high?” I question, anxiety creeping up from my stomach. I seriously don’t want this to come off badly. God knows what he can do to my career, with the amount of money and “power”  that he holds.

“Oh! Just some coke, do you want some? I’ve got a fat stash back in my room, you’ll just have to ignore the paintings.

What do I say? First, he wants to fuck me, and now he’s offering me cocaine?

“Ummm, I’m okay actually,” I reply, eyes glued to his firm grip on my hand, leading me through the hotel like a stealth mission, stopping behind couches and desks, pulling me under them to hide from various staff and other residents. I swear we crept past Karen Gillan at one point. We continue this charade of playing ninjas until we stop at a door, undoubtedly his room’s.

“Wait, do you seriously want to fuck me?” I start, a chuckle bubbling underneath my voice. “I mean, you’re a fucking A-lister and you’re high off coke right now”. This entire situation is so absurd I cannot.

“You’re an angel y/n, and I’m so pent up right now, I feel like an animal.” He replies, voice full of truth. And he isn’t wrong at all. On our journey, I had noticed him grabbing his crotch a few more times than necessary, and adjusting it quite a lot too. Truthfully, it did make me question whether or not I would submit to his desperate plea for pleasure.

“Fuck.”

I genuinely think he wants to fuck me.

“Fine. Okay. I think we can do this.” There. I said it. Listening to my own voice consent to having sex with Dieter fucking Bravo generates a wave of excited shivers across my body, mirroring the relieved smile that sprawls across his face.

“Let’s have some fun.”

___________

Inside his room, it is clear to see that the restrictions in the bubble have taken a toll on him. Scattered across the walls there are various paintings depicting almost hellish figures, staring down at us. As I study them, Dieter dims the lights and begins to undress, changing into nothing but a dressing gown. Anticipation creeps across my body, giving my head a slight buzz. Turning to me, Dieter’s chest becomes visible: scattered lightly with hair, but enough to give them a fuzzy look and feel. His thighs also peek out nicely, thick and inviting. Jesus Christ, why did the costume department dress him so ugly? This scruffy, out-of-bed look is much more attractive, and the colour of his gown suits him much better than the neon of his Character’s jacket. As I force my eyes to peel away from his body, I notice him staring directly at me. In exactly the same way as earlier today. Was that his flirting? Or dropping hints? I thought he wanted to kill me, but I guess he just wanted me. Instead of hatred, his eyes are filled with lust and animalistic intent, he wants me like a fucking drug.

“So-” I begin, stopped by his hand suddenly covering my mouth. His proximity engulfs me with his scent: musky, woody, sweaty and also quite sweet, almost floral. His dick has definitely been leaking for a while. Stepping even closer, our chests almost touching, he stares down at me, eyes burning into my own. Slowly, he removes his hand off my mouth and grabs my chin, pulling my face up to look at him. We stay in silence like this for a few seconds, both reading each other's faces, enveloped in the erotic tension.

“You’re so beautiful, y/n.”

And with that, the tension breaks, cascading us in a downpour of lust and need. Our bodies clash, pushing and pulling each other closer, our hips grinding as we kiss. His lips are chapped, but still soft, scratching over mine satisfyingly. His tongue reaches into my mouth while mine battles its way into his, both attempting to overcome the other. They connect and move over each other slickly, electrifying my body and increasing my newfound desire for Dieter. As we make out, our faces push closer and closer, his beard scruff dancing over my skin, their path leaving an electrifying buzz. I smile as we kiss, intoxicated by his desire, his desperation for sex. As we kiss, I can feel his growing boner press against my hip, shrouded by his gown that sports quite a large tent. He groans against me, a guttural sound that reverberates in my mouth. I push into that feeling further, watching him become completely engrossed in our French kiss. His hands roam freely, moving away from my face and down my arms, and stopping with our fingers interlocked. Suddenly, he pushes me down onto his bed, dipping his head down to not break our kiss. Seemingly unwillingly, our mouths depart and he stands above me.

His gown is barely holding in his package, The ribbon basically untied, but keeping his manhood hidden. It is very evident that he intends to give a show, which I think is quite comical. Of course, the fucking celebrity actor would want to take control of this scene and make me savour his big reveal.

Teasingly, he starts by grabbing my hand and trailing it down his chest. I take the liberty of pinching his nipples lightly, evoking an involuntary moan. Then, he pulls my hand down lower, whilst I run my fingers through his chest hair. In the dim lighting, the glow golden, with hints of silver, no doubt a reminder of our age gap. But he doesn’t care, and neither do I. He stops my hand at the knot of the ribbon and lets go.

“If he gets to enjoy this, then so do I” I think, taking my time to admire his treasure trail and the bottom of his stomach. I playfully teeter around the ribbon knot, teasing him as he did me.

“Please.” He speaks with a whisper, eyes full of longing and need. But I can feel him hold himself back, avoiding rushing our moment.

Complying, I swiftly undo the knot, and allow the robe to fall to the sides of his legs.

Fuck.

His cock fell forward towards me with undeniable intent. It definitely reached past seven inches, and under the soft glow, the glossiness of precum over its head was undeniable. A soft gasp emerged from the depths of my throat as I stared, entranced. Dieter’s cock was going to be the death of me.

“Suck it.”

Looking up at Dieter, I could see him shift away from his desperate self towards a more dominant one. He and I both knew that this was going to be intense. His eyes held a fury in them, driven by his need to fuck. It definitely had been a while since he had got any action. I guess that many others he must have asked didn't hear him out at all. The veins in his dick were so defined, throbbing with an urgency. With each throb, a glob of precum spilt out, coating his manhood in a thick, slick lube. Fuck.

Staring up into his eyes, I leant forward and licked his tip. As I did, I watched his entire body shake, an involuntary reaction to how touch-starved he was. A moan emerged from the back of his throat, guttural and low, making my skin form into goosebumps.

I began to lower myself further down his cock, slowly pressing my face into his hair. I could smell the sweat from the day’s work that coated his cock and balls, creating a sweet but heavy aroma that caused me to moan onto his dick. I inhaled sharply, catching every whiff that I could, intoxicated. Still staring into his deep, pleading eyes, I stopped sucking and moved to his balls, placing one into my mouth and sucking teasingly, inhaling his scent. His dick lay over my face with a distinct weight, thrusting into my hair, coating my skin with his precum. Still keeping eye contact, I watched his mouth open and close, gawking and stunned by the pleasure he was experiencing. I swapped between his balls and cock regularly, making sure to never break eye contact, watching Dieter fall further and further into a lust-driven state. Whilst I sucked, I could feel his thighs shaking with ecstasy. Keeping him in my mouth, I wrapped and slithered my tongue up the base and around his head. I revelled in the salty taste of his precum, savouring every drop. I slipped my tongue under his hood, running at the base of his head. This prompted another series of involuntary moans on his behalf, stimulating my own cock to start throbbing through my clothes, desperate for touch.

Without warning, I felt his hands on the back of my head, gripping tightly into my hair. Immediately, he started thrusting into me, fucking my mouth. His thrusts were in quick succession, fueled by excessive desire. He filled my mouth entirely, his taste coating every surface, saliva dripping from the sides of my face and down the base of his cock. The room was filled with the scent of sweat and musk and the sound of his balls slapping onto my jaw whilst he let out desperate pants and groans. His movements were frantic and obsessive, gripping into my hair with a desperate need. His hands were clammy, his fingers locking and slipping around my curls whilst he fucked my face. Tears streamed down my face whilst Dieter abused my mouth, ignoring my gags and moans. My cock was so fucking hard, pressing into my trousers with a desperate need to be touched. Jesus fucking Christ.

His thrusting became more rapid, and his moans increased in volume and speed. He was growling with such animalistic intent, in total heat whilst wrecking my face.

“Ah- fuck- I’m gonna cum baby-”

His seed filled my mouth with a final thrust, letting out a hoarse and guttural succession of moans. We stayed there for a few seconds, his breathing heavy, and his body shuddering above me. His cum was so sweet and thick, forcing me to gulp down loads of mess. Pulling out from my mouth, the rest of his seed leaving him. In a trance, I felt him pushing it over my cheeks and lips, coating me with his sperm. Looking up at him whilst it dripped down to my chin, his eyes full of relief and pleasure.

“Holy Shit.” I didn’t know what to say.

“Ready for more, angel?”

Dieter flopped onto the bed next to me, his breath heavy.

Immediately, he turned towards me, planting his chapped lips onto mine. We kissed passionately, fueled by a connection previously inconceivable. His hands explored my body, tugging up my T-shirt and kneading his hands into my skin. He was rough, dominant and needing. He gripped the bare skin of my back tightly, pulling me closer to him, our bodies pressing and interlocking tightly. Reaching down the back of my trousers, I felt his finger pressing on my hole. He circled his finger around my entrance, pressing slightly, causing a moan to emerge from my lips. Removing his hands from my ass and his mouth from mine, he placed his fingers into my mouth.

“Spit.”

Instinctively, I did. Immediately, He went back to my asshole, inserting his index slowly, causing my back to arch into him. He pressed in and out, loosening my hole slowly. I couldn’t stop moaning into him, pushing myself down further against him. As he finger fucked my hole, he started thrusting bare body against me, grinding his cock across my thigh, dripping precum onto my trousers. Slowly, almost timidly, he reached down my body to my bulge, applying pressure heavily. Holy Shit. I was in ecstasy, in pure bliss and overstimulation. He unbuttoned my trousers desperately, fueled by desire, exposing my boxers to the room. The front was wet with precum, clinging to my member.

Suddenly, he straddled on top of me, pulling down my trousers and boxers to my ankle. Immediately, my cock sprung up to my belly button, leaving a small pool of precum. Removing all my clothes fully, leaving my body exposed to the dim room, he lifted my legs, resting them on his shoulders.

He quickly lubed my hole, pushing his finger deep into me as he did so. It shocked me, engrossing me in a sudden wave of pleasure. Then, positioning his dick, I felt his member push into me slowly, meeting resistance from my hole, straining against his girth.

“Fuck, so goddamn tight”, he grunted, pressing slightly harder. With a satisfying pop, his tip entered, arching my neck back. I looked deep into his eyes, unable to generate sound from the pure ecstasy. Gently, he inserted his deep length inside me, making low cooing noises, soothing my discomfort. Eventually, he was fully inside me, my hole wrapped around his cock. We stayed unmoving, Dieter engrossed with how my ass clung to his dick desperately. Teasingly, I moved my ass slightly, pulling his cock deeper into me, now fully balls deep.

“Oh”, a soft moan escaped his mouth, wrapping around me in the silent room. Soon followed the clear sound of his dick pulling out and pushing back, his balls slapping my cheeks.  Dieter's hands wrapped around mine, pushing me back completely against the bed, and leaned closer, going deeper and stretching my legs higher. Quickly, his thrusts increased, engulfing us in moans and soft-spoken curses towards each other. Wave after wave of pleasure buzzed my head and made my tip throb. His lips met mine and we started kissing, fueled by desire and need. He fucked me mercilessly, stretching my hole wide to fit his girth and length nicely. His breath was heavy into my mouth, followed by growls that made my cock twitch. His beard scratched my face nicely, sending small bursts of pain, heightening my sensitive state.

I could feel my orgasm rising, my cock head getting hot and my cock throbbing. I couldn’t even let out any noise to warn Dieter,  assuddenly I was engulfed in a blinding wave of hot bliss from his onslaught on my prostate. Spurts of cum erupted from my cock, painting out stomachs, tying us together. Yet Dieter didn’t stop, fueled by my pleasure. Instead, his thrusts increased, overstimulating my entire body. I felt his hands move from mine to the back of my head, pushing me to look directly into his eyes. His thrusts were relentless, going deeper each time, stretching my insides into his personal fucktoy. My moans were neverending, creating a chorus with Dieter’s deep growls. Still looking into my eyes, he leant his body onto mine, and began to absolutely abuse my hole. He fucked me like a dog, his eyes seemingly glowing with pure energy and pleasure. Picking up even more speed, I felt his manhood throb, close to coming again.

“Where do you want it,” is all he could ask between heavy breaths, holding back his orgasm with undefined strength.

“In me.”

I felt Dieter erupt in me, his load filling every crevice. It leaked out my asshole, down the base of his member. Pulling out completely, he admired his work, then pushed himself back in, impregnanting me again. We moaned into each other, kissing messily, completely in the moment. He stayed inside me for a few minutes, getting soft as we just laid there, comprehending what we had just done. Pulling out, my hole was a gaping mess, leaking with his seed.

Lying next to me, cum dripping off his cock, his face became plastered with a smile. He scooped up a glob of his cum, mixed it with the pool of mine on my stomach, and brought it to my lips.

“Swallow.” I did.

“Good.”

The world was so silent. Neither of us spoke, our breaths slowing gradually. Turning to him, looking into his eyes, I could tell he was eternally grateful, and I was happy too with being his bitch, even though it was so wrong. But it was so right.

“Can we make this a weekly thing? I asked, desperate for him again.

“Weekly? Nah. Daily?” He replied. He was addicted. To me, to my body, to how our bodies moved in unison, driven by lust and depravation.

A small chuckle emerged from his chest. A hearty laugh, melting my belly into a hot mess. A comfortable laugh, like a warm hug after a shitty day.

I wouldn’t mind getting addicted to Dieter.

[simp-for-steve]

PEDRO PASCAL as General Marcus Acacius Gladiator II (2024) | dir. Ridley Scott

[simp-for-steve]

#for science

PEDRO PASCAL in Gladiator II (2024) dir. Ridley Scott

[simp-for-steve]

Sassy Steve Harrington

[simp-for-steve]

keep fuckin’ quiet

1.1k / dbf!joel miller x male reader

summary: you can’t keep quiet, joel has to find ways to keep you silent

warnings: +18 MINORS DNI, pwp, age gap (22/40s) sex in a bathroom, slight suffocation (joel covers your mouth from moaning) dbf!joel, daddy!kink, kissing, creampie, joel has a dirty mouth, spanking,

a/n: I was sick when I wrote this, and somehow wrote this shit at 3 am (from where i am), @janaispunk thank you for letting me be the most chaotic and delirious person while I was writing this 💗💗💗

a/n 2: was this me writing this out of boredom because my brain can’t sleep, yes! also thanks to @strang3lov3 for the graphic, love you queen 💗💗💗

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You noticed beads of sweat from the man behind you, littering his forehead through your squinted eyes. Hands planted hard and rough on your bare hips. You were bearing your teeth in an attempt to keep quiet. Your dad was just a few feet from the bathroom, and any sudden noise would distract him from the TV.

The pseudo-uncle whom you’ve known your entire life was fucking the daylights out of you; keeping your hands to yourself around him was hard; you were eager to know what rested under the extra cloth in his jeans that rested where his cock lay. He was hesitant, but even paper folds with enough pressure pressed.

“Ya’ fuckin’ got what you wanted? You like this big dick deep in you son?”

“Yes! Oh, I love it so much,” You whined.

Joel was trying his best to fuck you as soft as his hips drew closer to you with each thrust, but he wanted to see you squirm under each thrust, tried to stretch you out, and leave a mark on you that he never wanted to forget. But he couldn't do that with each thrust as heavy breathes and light moans were escaping with each push of his cock.

“Keep quiet, son. Your pop’s is right outside.”

“I can't help it, Joel. You're so fuckin’ big.”

A light smack came across your ass but still caused you to wince and your ass to sting. “No cursing, son. I shouldn't have to punish my good boy.”

“Punish me, daddy! Teach me a lesson!”

“You asked for it, son, but keep fuckin’ quiet, or I’ll pull my cock out of that tight pussy of yours.”

Joel’s hips have a mind of their own as his cock jackhammers deeper in your ass, thighs clapping against your ass. The volume of your moans starts to elevate as Joel keeps hitting your G-spot.

“Shut y’mouth, son,” Joel grunted. “Y’want your dad to hear us?”

“N-no! I love your cock so much.”

“Such a dirty whore, y’gonna be daddy’s good little whore?”

Joel’s forearm wrapped around your neck, and you felt his chest on your back; hearing your dad’s best friend call you a whore made your cock twitch and made you want to cum. Your hands grab the sink, bending the material under you as you feel Joel stretch you out.

“Y’look so fuckin’ addicted from my cock, son. Look at yourself.” You complied with Joel’s command and looked at yourself. You saw a beast behind you; it wasn't Joel anymore who was behind you; he seemed unrecognizable. His eyes darken, his teeth bared, his grunts in your ear. Joel was becoming an animal in heat, and you were the reason why.

Focusing your eyes back down at the sink, you suddenly feel your chin grabbed and forced to look back at the small mirror and see you and Joel again. “What do ya think you're doin’? Y’wanted this cock so bad, I’ll make sure y’have it.” Joel’s lips press up against your ear, and his mustache and beard tickle the curves of your ear, causing shivers to crawl all over your spine.

The man before you, hips’ kept pushing deeper, and his pace was picking up with each thrust. Slight moans keep leaving your mouth, and you can't help but feel how Joel makes your body go into overdrive.

He couldn't compare to the guys you’ve been with in the past; Joel knew what he was doing to leave a mark on you. He knew how to pleasure a partner, and you were glad that you got to experience what it was like. Your hands rested on Joel’s thighs to help soften his thrusts, up to no avail.

“Son, y’getting too loud again.”

Ignoring Joel, moans kept slipping through your teeth; even with Joel’s firm but not tight grip on your throat, Moans kept leaping out of your mouth. Suddenly, Joel plants his hands over your mouth to help muffle your moans.

Heavy breaths were replaced but covered your moans. Each moan was replaced with a heavy breath covered with a groan or cry that Joel’s cock gave to you. His pace wouldn’t stop, and your moans wouldn’t stop shooting from your mouth.

The floor creaked from outside the bathroom; you both couldn’t tell if it was the house settling or your dad outside, but whatever it was, it made an unsettling feeling crawl up Joel’s body. The cries escaping your mouth through his thick fingers made Joel make a rash decision.

Lightly pulling on your chin, causing you to bend backward to look up at Joel. Quickly moving his hand from your mouth — a groan escapes your lips; Joel’s plump lips connect to your soft ones. They didn't block out the cries escaping you, but they suppressed them the best they could.

Joel’s hands were on your neck, not tight, but to balance your head. Eyes shut on both you and Joel as you gripped his arms. You felt your hair pressed on Joel’s flannel-covered chest; with each thrust, you could feel Joel’s heart bump against your head. A line of precum was escaping the hardened tip of your cock; it was hurting not to cum, but kissing Joel helped suppress that hurt feeling.

Feeling Joel back away from your lips, you open your eyes to look at him, an upside-down sneer on his face as your vision fixes from the darkness it was in moments ago.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby. I’m gonna cum; you want me to —”

“Gimme your cum, Joel. I want it all.”

Planting his lips back on yours, each of Joel’s thrusts started to become animal-like; he became the animal in the heat with each thrust and push; you could feel Joel’s cock twitch inside you. He was about to explode with each thrust of pleasure he gave you.

Removing one of your hands from Joel’s arms, you grip the shaft of your cock and start to stroke yourself. The buildup of cum from your base slowly began to rise as you felt it slowly crawl the shaft.

“Fuck, baby. I’gonna cum,” Joel grunted in your mouth.

“Me too, Joel.”

With a few pushes, a groan escapes Joel’s lips as you feel his warm cum swim inside you. As Joel was cumming, lines of cum escaped your pained mushroom tip. Your dick started to go flaccid in your palm as you heard the squelch from your ass as Joel slipped his cock out of you.

But his lips didn't move from your mouth; as your body turned, Joel’s lips stayed on yours. Your body pressed up behind the sink when your nails were trying to dig into it earlier. His rough hands on your waist as your hands find his face, his coarse but soft beard in your hands.

The electricity in the kiss died down as Joel rested his forehead against yours, noses intertwining together as you both just enjoyed each other.

“T’was the best fuck I ever had.”

“Best fuck for me, ever.”

“Thank, angel.”

“No problem, Joel.”

[simp-for-steve]

Steve harrington x male reader fluff where steve is dating a flim nerd and they work together but in the breakroom they make out

𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙝𝙞𝙛𝙩

𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙫𝙚 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙩𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙚!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Before You Interact - Rules Of My Blog

𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩: Clumsy beginnings can lead to happy endings. Even for a former-douchebag like Steve Harrington.

𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙨: He/Him

𝙎𝙩𝙮𝙡𝙚: Literally all fluff.

𝘼/𝙉: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK AGES I NEVER CHECK MY DRAFTS AND I FORGOT JFC but I had this idea for meeting Steve for the first time (bc my first impressions are always awful) and decided I had to write it like this. So it’s not exactly like the request but still.

𝙏𝙒: Throwback to when Steve got drugged by the Russians, mentions of weed (he tries to convince you he doesn’t smoke/it was a one time thing), no use of Y/N, I think that’s it.

The mention of Steve Harrington’s name would’ve earned no reaction from you at one point. He wasn’t anybody special, just another name and face in the school hallway. You never really had any classes together, and the end of high school solidified the difference in interests. You’d be lying, however, if you said it didn’t surprise you to see the brunette sporting a gaudy sailor suit and taking employment at Starcourt.

It wasn’t unusual for you to be at the mall. You and a few friends would normally meet up to go see whatever was playing in the theater as an excuse to hang out. It was a mutually loved experience — though you’d lost count of how many popcorn kernel shells had gotten stuck in your teeth that summer. If you weren’t at the theater, you were probably at the video store. Your life revolved around movies.

Naturally, it wasn’t surprising that the theater was where Steve met you on a very specific night. But his first impression was anything but perfect. In actuality, you’d forgotten all about it until a few weeks after when he came in for his first shift during late August. It was surprising, to say the least — considering how Keith despised him — but the brunette seemed pretty happy to swap the ‘Ahoy!’ printed hat for an equally ugly green vest.

It was early on a Thursday when he had his first shift with you. In his mind, he had been dreading and simultaneously looking forward to the shift. It was inevitable that your schedules would line up, but it still seemed too soon. The most you’d seen of each other was in passing or payday, casual interactions that left the (taller/shorter) male silently thinking about you for the rest of the evening.

You dreaded the shift a bit as well. Not for any big reason, but Keith said Steve had a shitty taste in movies. And it would’ve broken your heart, just the tiniest bit, to see the look on his face when you shot down his trashy recommendation to fill the lobby.

Even for only being there a few weeks, he caught on quickly, but had to redo his work most of the time considering how clumsy he was when flirting — both verbally and literally. While attempting to woo a really nice brunette girl, his stack of returns fell and scattered along the floor. You watched, amused, as the two picked the tapes up.

She left without getting anything other than a laugh.

Steve glanced at one of the hanging clocks, squinting a bit to make out the time.

“Break time?”

Your (e/c) hues caught the time and you nodded, motioning towards the back room. Nobody was likely to come in, but you left the break room door propped open just in case. Steve walked over to the fridge and pulled out the leftover pasta you had stowed away. The beige walls and cheap folding furniture didn’t do much to add comfort to the room, but your smile definitely did. He moved slightly, giving you space to use the small microwave.

Since that night at the mall, something about you had the (taller/shorter) male hooked. He remembered knocking the drink into your chest and muttering apologies, before staring at you in his drugged haze. You weren’t mad and began laughing it off immediately, instead becoming concerned about the blood and bruises that hid his features. Something about the way those fluorescent lights in a multitude of colors made you look ethereal and otherworldly. He had never seen a guy like you.

With the pasta finished warming up, you made your way to the small table while Steve tried to hide how he looked at you. He grabbed a half-empty can of Pringles and moved to lean against the wall. The loud climactic score of Terminator rang through the empty lobby and provided ample ambience for you two.

Steve’s sneaker tapped anxiously in tune to the music, leaving him to figure out what to say.

“Hey, I just — wanted to apologize? For, like, when we first met and everything.”

You looked up and met his eyes. He was expecting a confused look or for you to be mad, but you rolled your eyes instead. “Oh please, don’t even worry about that.”

He took this as an invitation to pull up the chair across the table and offer you a chip — to which you declined — before he continued.

“You actually remember that?”

“Uh, how could I not? I was seeing Back To The Future on the Fourth of July and you ran into me so hard I spilled my Coke. Not to mention I’ve never seen anybody’s pupils so wide — what did you do that night?”

Steve groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose with embarrassment, but smiled underneath his palm. Something about the way his bushy brows furrowed was unexpectedly cute and endearing in your eyes.

Nobody could deny that Steve Harrington was attractive. No, he definitely was. But especially now — not being shadowed by Tommy or Carol or any of the other stuck-up assholes from school. Now he was best friends with an awkward band girl and gaggle of dorky freshman. He was different. Still handsome and confident, but more authentic.

Steve leaned back a bit in the folding chair. “Oh man. That was a trip, for sure. I had a, uh, special brownie after work and was going to meet somebody to see a movie. I definitely overdid it, though.”

A smile formed over your features as you leaned closer to keep the conversation quiet. Keith wasn’t supposed to come in, but if anybody found out about Steve and the brownie, the nerd would definitely use it to fire him.

“Holy shit. Did it kick in during the movie? Wait — what happened to your face? You were all… bloody and fucked up.”

The brunette laughed and tried to think of a convincing lie. You wouldn’t believe he was drugged by Russians, of course, but it wasn’t a good idea to blurt that out. He leaned back and stretched a bit, giving you a good view of his toned arms that perfectly filled out his striped shirt.

“It kicked in before the movie even started. But Billy had been messing with Max — stepsister, friends with Dustin — and I tried to get him to just go home. Needless to say, he wasn’t happy about it.”

“So you fought him again and lost?”

He somewhat faked offense. “Uh, no. I didn’t lose. For your information, he had a date and left. But I’m assuming you knew about the first time?”

Steve watched as you poked and prodded the lukewarm noodles in the Tupperware container. It was evident that you were enjoying the story, anybody could tell with how your eyes glinted mischievously in the humming light of the break room.

“Of course. Everybody knew. I mean, I always thought it was pretty cool how you watched out for Henderson and stuff. Even if it did mean getting your ass kicked.” You wiggled your eyebrows at him.

He couldn’t be mad. In all honesty, it made him giddy — the idea of you thinking he was cool or something. The titles and admiration from peers began to matter less and less since graduation, they were nothing more than grains of sand. You, however, were different. You didn’t have to try to be anything — it came naturally.

Steve’s eyes wandered over every detail of your appearance as you focused on the pasta. It was like he was back in the theater, staring wide eyed at some (h/c) haired God.

Though you couldn’t see it, you felt the warmth of his gaze. “You’re staring again, Harrington.”

A hint of red dusted over his freckled cheeks. In an attempt to avoid saying something stupid, he resorted to eating again. The silence wasn’t tense, but it wasn’t very comfortable either. You wanted to ask about that night at the mall, as well as why he still seemed to look at you like you were the most beautiful thing the world had to offer. At first, the mall situation could’ve been a fluke. He was high out of his mind — it would make perfect sense.

But now? He looked at you in the exact same way, nearly a year later, completely sober.

You rested your chin into the palm of your hand and met his gaze again. “I bet the movie was totally amazing in that state.”

Steve nodded and flashed you a grin. It reminded you of that night and how his smile still seemed perfect, even with his perfect white teeth contrasting greatly to the dried blood that had covered his face.

“It was… something, that’s for sure. Felt like my mind was just gonna—” he gestured and made a cheesy explosion noise, “—yannow?”

“And was that from the brownie, or the movie?”

The brunette laughed nervously and shifted in his seat. Your voice was enough to drive him insane in the best possible way; sweet, caring, but still teasing enough to keep him going. Robin had been telling him to just go for it — he didn’t want to get his hopes up at first, but she insisted her superpower was having ‘gaydar’. That, and you’d not so subtly flirted with a few guys that came into the store.

Unbeknownst to you, Steve’s heart picked up in pace like it was about to pop out of the confines of his chest. It almost beat in time to the ending credits of the long forgotten movie that played in the lobby, and left a rhythmic pulse going through his body. He shrugged a bit, trying — and failing — to stop the words before they could come out.

“It was the movie at first, but something changed. I just remember looking at the lights then I ran into you.”

You laughed. “You looked at me like a deer in the headlights. I was tempted to call an ambulance, if I’m being honest.”

“I don’t blame you. I feel like I stared for hours or something — you just looked really hot. I mean, besides being covered in Coke. Pretty sure I told Robin you were a Greek God, or an angel, or something. At first I thought it was just the drugs, but then I saw you again and just… it’s the same thing.” He rambled.

And there it was, out in the open, before he could even realize what he was doing. Steve’s motion came to a blunt pause while he registered what he just said aloud. The pace of his heartbeat picked up until its thumping was the only thing he could hear.

The words came out of his mouth so quickly, and clumsily, like they weren’t a combination of the most genuine thoughts and that anybody had ever had about you. It was like an earthquake had just spawned out of nowhere, and once the rumbling stopped, your mind was racing as fast as your heart.

Steve took the silence as a very polite rejection. Once his own earthquake settled, he would try and apologize — ask you to forget about it — and he, too, would try. Every word was genuine, but the timing was off. Even then, he didn’t want to look across the white plastic table and meet the disgust in your eyes.

It would’ve killed him.

You sat with Steve in the stillness for what felt like too long. When his pleading gaze finally met yours, clearly working out what to say, he was met with a smile. Red heat filled the high points of your cheeks and spread into a dusting at the tips of your ears; it wasn’t hot, just warm.

“Holy shit… that’s, like, the nicest thing anybody’s ever said about me. Do you mean it?” The words came out ever so breathy.

Just like that, the former king of Hawkins High let the rest of his composure slip. It was like being exposed for the first time in a while; he wasn’t some arrogant rich boy with his pick of the school. The boy in front of you was as clumsy as he was gorgeous.

“I mean, yeah.” A nervous laugh worked through his body. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured our first shift together — just so you know.”

You grinned at him from across the table. “Me either. But I wouldn’t change a thing.”

There was no rush, but the brunette still felt like he should say something. No words of substance circled his mind, however, so he sat in silence with you in the dull room. Everything about the (accidental) confession had him feeling giddy and like he would melt into a puddle at any moment. With your lunch finished, you put the lid back on and moved it out of the way. At the sound of the bell from the counter, you maneuvered out of the room, sending Steve one last smile before attending to the customer.

A few hours had passed until the moon replaced the sun in a navy blue sky. And though the confession wasn’t what he had planned, not in the slightest, Steve was just glad that you’d been willing to give him a chance. For the rest of the shift, he would inevitably try to think of a nice date for you two. Unfortunately, he didn’t know much of your other interests at the moment — would it be too cheesy to go to the movies? Hawkins wasn’t exactly known for its creative date spots.

Your not-so-secret admirer leaned on his elbows across the counter as you worked on shutting down the computers for the night. It was silent in the door, now filled with a bit of darkness, save for the clacking of keys and the slinky that Steve messed with. The computer screen finally dulled in color and fizzed a bit as it turned off. The brunette followed as you moved towards the door to lock up, trying desperately to figure out how to word things. He hovered beside you like a shadow while you spun the open sign around and tugged the door closed.

“Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is yes.” You eyed him carefully with a smug grin.

“Really?”

“Of course. On one condition, though.” Steve nodded a bit nervously as you began to trap him between your body and the window, “If it involves movies, I’m picking. You may be pretty, but your taste is… in need of work.”

He smiled again. The (taller/shorter) male moved his hand to yours, not quite holding it, just gently running a thumb over your lower knuckles. Such a small gesture, but one that had you weak in the knees again.

“I think I can live with that.”

Reblogs over likes — it helps other people find my stuff. More male & enby reader content on my blog. ST requests still open!

[simp-for-steve]

Steve start to fall for the reader who is a metal head, Eddie’s best friend to be exact. But his “king” Steve reputation tells him he can’t he physically can’t be going for the “freak” best friend. He tries everything he can to shake off his crush for the reader, but nothing works so he resorts to bullying them calling them names, backhand comments you know douche things like “King” Steve would do but in the name of love . Then he see reader with Eddie’s arm around their shoulder, he should be jealous right because he is the one who is being mean to the reader but at the same time the reader his girl (even if they don’t know yet) no one should be touching them like that except him obviously. A drunk confession lead him pouring his feelings into the reader, do they like him back?

AN | No, but Stevie just needed to see the light. And it’s you that helps!🥺

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Steve x GN!Reader

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | Steve, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A heavy scowl tugged down the corners of his pretty mouth as he watched you from across the cafeteria. Ugh. He didn’t even know why he bothered wasting any of his time on you, even if it was a few moments of stolen glances. You were just so infuriating that he couldn’t stand it.

He watched as you almost skipped over to Eddie before sitting down at his side, sliding your tray onto the table. You were almost too graceful for someone that was best friends with the town freak. Too p - annoying. You were just silly, dumb, and annoying Steve decided then and there. That was it. That was why he was feeling the way he was. 

For some reason you must have felt him watching you because you looked up and caught his eye, giving him a small little wave of your hand along with a tentative smile. The boy scoffed before rolling his eyes and looking away. You laughed softly, unphased by his reaction and turned your attention back to your friend. 

“I wonder what his problem is,” you mused softly, shrugging it off as you grabbed a slice of apple. Eddie watched you, an eyebrow raised as if the answer was so obvious, “what?”

“He hates us, that’s what,” the boy scoffed, shaking his head in annoyance, “he’s just another little sheep…King Steve? Yeah, right.”

“Eddie,” you tutted softly, “there’s no reason to be rude-”

“They’re rude to us all the time!” he scoffed, “what’s the difference?”

“The difference is that those are their issues,” you insisted softly, “we can still be nice in return. We don’t need to be mean too. That won’t ever get anyone anywhere.”

“I love you but sometimes I hate that you’re right,” he leaned back in his seat and tossed a cracker at you, causing you to laugh, “soft heart in the big bad world. Don’t ever change.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you grinned. A shiver ran down your spine at the familiar feeling of being watched. You knew that if you turned around you’d find Steve Harrington’s eyes on you once again. But right then and there you decided you weren’t giving him the satisfaction.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’d never realized just how close your locker was to Steve’s. Not until you felt him becoming more and more aware of you did you notice him more. His locker was only a few down from yours, and you were both packing up to leave for the day. You shuffled a few things around in your backpack before putting them in the locker, curiosity getting the better of you as you looked over at Steve. 

He shifted his gaze away almost as quickly as you’d caught him, shaking his head. You were sure if he was silently cursing himself or the universe, but you weren’t about to let him ruin your day. You closed your locker and padded the few steps over to him, “hey Steve.”

“What do you want, freak?” Venom laced his voice as he frowned at you, taking a step back as if you were some sort of pariah. You were silent for a moment and he snapped his fingers in your face,  “can I help you?”

“I just wanted to make sure everything was alright,” you played with the strap of your backpack, twisting the nylon nervously. Something about being right in front of him made your heart pitter-patter nervously. He really was handsome; you liked his freckles and a part of you wished you could get a good look at all of them, “you seem…upset today.”

“Why do you care?” oh. You cared. That made his stomach turn, but the sensation felt quite…pleasant.

“I dunno,” you admitted, “I don’t like seeing people upset and you’re a person so…yeah.”

“I don’t need your little fake pity,” he slammed the door shut before turning to leave, “weirdo.”

“Bye Steve,” he hated the fact that your pretty smile didn’t fade despite his negative energy. He internally groaned at himself; your smile was not pretty. Average at best, “regardless, I hope you have a nice weekend!”

He was grumbling under his breath as he stalked away. A weird feeling settled in his stomach and he wasn’t quite sure how to place it. Steve couldn’t remember the last time someone had actually checked in to see how he was doing. Weird. 

Nonetheless the boy refused to turn to see if you were still standing there and watching him…he couldn’t stand looking at your soft eyes. They made him feel some type of way.

“You’re doing it again,” Eddie had come up behind you, quiet as a mouth and almost causing you to jump in surprise. You gently pushed his shoulder before shaking your head, “one might almost think you had a crush on Steve Harrington.”

“Don’t be silly,” you didn’t have a crush on him. Most definitely not…but he was easy on the eyes, you’d admit that much. You looped your arm through his before starting to drag him along with you, “he just seems like he needs a friend - a real friend. I don’t know, sometimes he looks so sad. Besides that, he’d not like the rest of them, he’s much better.”

“Hmm,” Eddie pressed a kiss to the side of your head before laughing softly, “maybe so. But that’s not our concern at the moment - it’s time for you to help me with my new campaign!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Steve didn’t even want to go out. All he wanted was to be at home, comfy in his pajamas with some pizza and maybe a movie or two. He most definitely did not want to be out with the gang of meatheads he called friends hanging around the Starcourt. 

He’d basically been sitting there in silence, laughing at the appropriate times but feeling more like a zombie than anything else. He kept stealing glances at his watch, practically counting down the minutes before he could leave without anyone thinking much about it. 

There was something he absolutely hated about the way Eddie was so casually intimate with you. His heartstrings tugged and his stomach felt off as he looked at the way you seemed to lean into his touch. Were you dating him? Gross. Steve hoped not. Although it didn’t matter to him in the slightest. It really didn’t even bother him.

But then he saw you. And he practically froze with his soda halfway to his mouth as he stared at you. You were walking out of the theater - he immediately found himself wondering what kind of movies you liked - with Eddie at your side. You laughed at something he said before he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. And Steve almost lost it. What could Eddie Munson say to you that was so funny? So funny that you were giggling and scrunching your nose in a way that was much cuter than it should have been. 

Then why was he feeling like this? He hated it. He didn’t understand. 

Fate, fortune, bad luck - whatever it was - seemed to favor him because you looked right on over. It was like you had some sort of Steve sixth sense and just knew where he was and that he was watching you. 

And despite the fact that he was sure he had nothing but a scowl on his face, you smiled and raised your hand at him in a small wave. It was meant just for him, a silent little exchange between the two of you. The sneered before looking away and turning his attention back to his friends. Friends being a term that was used extremely lightly. 

The weird part was that deep down, he would rather have come over and left with you. But he quickly pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. He didn’t really want to hang out with you, there was no way, but he was just extremely bored. That was all. Nothing more nothing less. 

An average person, you know, would have called it jealousy. But Steve would have just laughed it off. 

Steve Harrington did not have feelings for you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You had a free period and decided to get a head start on some assignments so you made your way to the library. You like the quietness of the space and the fact that not many people were around to create unnecessary distractions. The table you normally like to sit at was unoccupied so you made your way over and set down your bag. 

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until you realized that the space next to you was taken. And it wasn’t just taken by anyone - it was the golden boy himself. He shot you a glance when he’d noticed you arriving but didn’t say anything else. Part of you was tempted to say something to him, but you decided not to push anything. Instead you gave him a tightlipped smile before sitting down and pulling out your notebook and textbook. You got to work in silence, wrapped in what you were doing and not really paying attention to Steve. 

What you missed was the fact that he was the one peeking at you every couple of minutes. He watched you write, studying your handwriting as you diligently took notes, learning all the little expressions you made while reading. Just because, you know, you were smart and he wanted to see if there was anything he could learn from you.

After a little while you couldn’t help yourself and looked over at him. You set down your pen before angling your body towards him, “everything alright?”

For once, he wasn’t quite sure what to say, but knew that he didn’t want to be mean. He nodded his head before attempting to refocus himself on his homework. But the words seemed to swim together and nothing made sense and his mind was wandering, wandering, wandering. Eventually he grew extremely frustrated and threw his pen down with a loud groan.

You thought about ignoring him, but that didn’t sit right within yourself. You set down your own pen and scooted your chair closer to him, hesitant and unsure of how far you were going to be pushing him. You tentatively reached over and put your hand on his arm, hoping he wouldn’t flinch out of your touch. To your surprise he didn’t. 

“Steve?” you asked softly and he allowed himself to look up at you with wide, unsure eyes, “do you need some help?”

“I…” he paused for a long moment, inhaling deeply before slowly letting it out. But as he looked at the soft expression written all over your face he found that he didn’t want to be a douchebag or an asshole any longer. He nodded and leaned back in his chair, “y-yeah.”

“Okay,” and your entire face lit up. Steve liked that sight, he decided, and he hoped that he could see more often, “what do you need help with?”

“Chemistry,” he admitted sheepishly, pointing at the crossed out formulas and calculations on his sheet of paper. His cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink as he grew embarrassed by his sloppy penmanship. But none of it seemed to both you, instead you leaned in and tried to see what was going on, “there’s so many little things to remember! It’s so hard…I don’t know how anyone does it.”

“I can show you a few tricks I like to use,” you grabbed your notebook and ripped out a fresh sheet of paper. He watched in awe as you started to write, mesmerized by how delicate your movements seemed, “they help me and maybe they’ll help you too.”

“Thanks,” he said softly, causing you to nod happily, “I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem,” you sounded so sweet that it made Steve want from how saccharine it all was, “I’m sure you’ll have it down in no time!”

And yet, he found himself not wanting to have it down quickly. He…he wanted you to stay there with him.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been about a month since your little impromptu study session at the library with Steve. And ever since then things seemed to have shifted with him. Instead of scowling at you or saying something nasty, he offered you quick, shy smiles. If he ever ran into you, he spoke few words but kept them kind. You liked the change, you weren’t going to lie. What you would have liked even more was spending more time with him but you weren’t going to go and push any envelopes. Why ruin a good thing when you didn’t need to?

It was Steve that found you the next time; you wondered if he had purposely sought you out or if it was a matter of right time and place. But it was after school and he was walking towards you, against the sea of people so it appeared not to be purposeful rather than anything else. You were just closing your locker when he appeared in front of you. 

“Hi Steve,” you said softly and he practically melted at how you said his name. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the right words, but only managing to open and close his mouth a few times, “is everything alright?”

“Y-yeah,” he managed to choke you finally, “I was wondering if you…umm, if y-you wanted a ride home today.”

“Oh.”

“I-I know you usually go home with Munson, but I didn’t see him here today,” he stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocking gently back and forth on his heels, “so I wanted to see if you needed a ride.”

“Oh,” you made a small sound, almost of disbelief, “that’s really nice of you! If you’re up for it, that’d be great. But are you sure you should be hanging out with me? What would your friends say, hmm?”

“I don’t care about that,” and it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders at the revelation, “I don’t…I don’t care about them. Not really.”

“Well,” you gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, “that’s definitely not what I expected to hear from you.”

“Yeah,” he laughed softly and you decided that he had a really nice laugh. Maybe you could get him to do more of it, “me neither. But I…I wanted to hang out with you.”

“Me?”

“Yes,” he admittedly shyly and you couldn’t keep the beaming grin off your face, “i-if you want to that is.”

“I’d love you to,” you promised and he visibly relaxed, “anything special you had in mind?”

“Not really,” he scratched the back of his neck nervously, “I didn’t think I’d get this far to be honest. I haven’t exactly…been the nicest.”

“You’ll find that I don’t take a lot of things personally,” you couldn’t stop yourself from touching his cheek and brushing his hair out of your face, “not like that anyway. Maybe we could go see a movie or something. Or get a bite to eat?”

“Yes,” he was so eager that it made your heart happy, “that sounds good.”

“Cool,” you bit the inside of your cheek as you felt him reach for your hand with his, “I like you, Steve Harrington. You’re a good one, I can tell.”

“I like you,” you exchanged shy smiles as he gently tugged on your hand, “a lot.”

And you liked him a lot too, you decided. 

[simp-for-steve]

Cat People

Pairing: Steve Harrington/ Reader

Requested By: NA

Word Count: 2,649

Summary: Steve Harrington is a lot of things, but your favorite thing that he is, is kind. When he finds a dirty little kitten hiding behind a dumpster, how is he supposed to just leave him there?

Stranger Things Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist 

~~~~~

Wednesday’s were always weird days for you. It was your day off and Steve had a later shift at work. It gave you time to tidy up the house and have some alone time, sure. But it was always weird not having him around. But today, this particular Wednesday, was weirder than you could have ever prepared for. 

You were finishing up the dishes from the previous few days when you heard Steve hurriedly open the door. “Babe, babe, babe, babe, babe,” He was stammering the pet name so quickly you lost count of how many times he said it between your front door and the kitchen.

Keep reading

[simp-for-steve]

feel the rush.

tom holland x male reader.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. rushing a fraternity is highly-competitive, and all-so overwhelming. if it was up to you, you wouldn't have participated in the first place. fortunately, tom was here to provide you all of the shortcuts in receiving a bid to the greek life, as long as you did a bang-up job.

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓. one-shot [ 5.5k ].

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. male reader 〳 college!au 〳 frat!tom 〳brief alcoholic drinking 〳 closeted!reader 〳 reader is kinda religious coded 〳 sexual content: top!tom, bottom!reader, breeding, kissing, spitting, blowjob (r!giving), humiliation, dirty talk, muscle worship, scent!kink.

“You know you’re not exactly dressed for the occasion, right?”

The door closed behind Tom, sectioning you off from the party. The atmosphere of the event was tangible regardless. Strong beats throttled from wall to wall, tremors from a familiar song tickling your feet. Chants, albeit muffled, were resonant as you could only presume that someone executed a keg stand for the nth time of the night.

Chug, chug, chug, chug, and the crowd roared as if downing a keg of beer prevented Earth from being infiltrated by extraterrestrials. Granted, that was within the best scenario, in which alcohol and everything loud and deafening like university students wanting to fit in were highly toxic to those devious space invaders.

“What—how do you mean? Rushing is pretty formal, isn’t it? That’s what my mom tells me, anyway.”

You felt small from Tom’s comment, taking a peek at yourself in his mirror and shamefully finding nothing out of the ordinary with your white dress shirt, polka-dotted tie, and khaki pants. Though, you had to be honest. It wasn’t a fair assessment, considering you were judging under the purple hue of his dim lights. The compact size of his room certainly didn’t help either.

“Yes and no. Obviously, you don’t want to look like a slob. But you also don’t want to stand out too much. You’re not going to be a Greek if you wear Ralph Lauren from head to toe—that’s obnoxious. It looks like your mum dressed you for the Lord’s Supper or someone’s granddad, which is frankly the worst offender: don’t look like a square.”

“These are all I have—duly noted—so, it’s okay to dress… like you then? Won’t I blend in with everyone else?”

Tom wore a snapback, a blue polo, and white cargo shorts—which was brazen of him considering the amount of drinking and bile you had seen before the party had even began. It was simple to replicate. If it was your mother’s judgement, she would have all the men and women cover up their legs and arms, while embarrassingly leaving you as the prime example of what a gentleman should dress like.

But your mother wasn’t here, was she? Which meant, you could enjoy the holy sight of Tom’s biceps threatening to burst his shirt at the sleeve, his bulky chest at the placket—all for a little while longer before your intuition stepped in at the call of your mother, and forced those thoughts to scurry off.

That was ungentlemanly.

“That’s the point. You blend in, which means you put in the extra effort to get you noticed by the brothers—by us. Outfit aside, I reckon you’re off to a mighty start. Could be a pledge if you keep this up. I’m certainly noticing you,” Tom muttered after taking a sip of his beer, backing you with small, but imposing steps, until your ankles knocked against the footer of his bed, making you fall back. “Here, loosen up.”

He handed you his beer can.

“I don’t—“

“Just a sip to get in the mood. Not asking you to get blackout drunk here, Christ.”

“Sorry, mama.” You tipped the can into your mouth and instantly, the first taste of lager made you grimace, your face and body shriveling up like the bitter bubbles in the back of your throat. “That’s not… pleasant.”

“You get used to it.”

You were an easy target, weren’t you?

All you had to do was lurk around the party like a lost puppy, head and shoulders down as if the entire objecting of rushing was the complete opposite of being noticeable, and then Tom came around to your aid. He flashed that confident, gorgeous smile of his, immediately knowing you’d do anything to receive a bid from anyone at Alpha Kappa Psi, to be a pledge, without ever doing the hard-work of politely boasting about yourself to complete strangers.

Using your body was easier.

“You’ve done this before?” Tom took the can out of your hand and set it on his desk. He joined you at the foot of the bed after, his thigh touching yours. Then his hand on your knee, rubbing to simultaneously appease those nervous twiddling fingers of yours, and to warm you up.

“Yes—but don’t tell my mom, all right? She doesn’t know that I’m—Just… a couple of hook-ups back at home. Nothing much.” You nervously laughed to fill the silence, watching Tom’s hand warm your knee in gentle strokes that seem to ascend closer to your thigh with every cycle.

He stopped at your inner thigh. “I don’t plan on it unless you do a bad job. And/or your ass somehow rips my dick off and I need someone to take accountability for your actions.”

Your body straightened when Tom began kneading at your tender skin. “Not funny, I mean it.”

“Relax, I’m not telling your mom. It’ll be fun…” With one smooth motion, Tom turned his snapback around, the visor facing the back, and his mouth lowered to the shell of your ear. “And if I can be honest…? It turns me on knowing you’re hiding such a dirty secret from your poor mother.”

There was a shuffling, and then a firm grip on your nape that made your breath hitch. Before your instincts to pull away could react, Tom drew you in for a pressing kiss.

You breathed in, sucking the taste of liquor into your lungs, and trailed after the sweep of his lips. His nose smashed against yours, you could practically hear him inhaling you, and you barely got a sound out before your lips were pushed apart with Tom’s wet tongue. He tasted of familiar lager, yet certainly much more appetizing than drinking from the source itself as you pressed closer to him, welcoming him into your mouth with messy licks to the slithering muscle.

“Mm…”

Electricity shot up your spine when his tongue began properly mingling with yours. Sparks ricocheted off your cranium, then back down to your toes, where they flexed and brought the rest of your legs onto Tom’s bed. Heat flushed through your veins, the kiss all-consuming like Tom had needed your moans to survive. He drew you in closer, holding you close, exploring your mouth with his. You let out small whimpers and pressed into him, drowning yourself in his groans as your hand experimented with desperate tugs and kneads to his growing erection. He licked and nipped at your lips in revenge, countering your touch with a much more brazen hand down your khakis and briefs, toying with your bare chub in his palm.

“Had my eyes on you since you walked through that door,” Tom’s breath spilled over your neck, kissing at the stretch of skin in between the seconds of stripping your clothes off and his after. “You stuck out like a sore thumb. Have no idea why you thought you even had a chance, but then I thought about it for longer, watching you stick to the walls, observing everyone, drinking our punch. I knew you weren’t as innocent as you looked.”

You were lost in this sanity. Your lips were swollen and nearly numb from use, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. They tingled in all the right ways, sending signals to your exposed cock, throbbing out in the open air after many clumsy movements of shimmying yourself out of your pants and briefs.

You helped Tom with his clothes, fingers swiping across his muscular back when you pulled off his polo, palms brushing over his toned thighs when it came to undoing his shorts. Surprisingly, no briefs to remove after, which made you even harder, even when you were nearly assaulted in the face with the spring of his erection.

All of Tom was impressive, especially his hard, thick cock.

“Mom told me to make some friends—“

When Tom returned his grasp onto your nape and pushed your head toward his groin, you lost all semblance of self-control. He held you close enough to smell his cock, but far enough to deprive you the pleasure of having him in your mouth. He smelled salty, something of sweat that made your nostrils flare for more, so you pushed your head. You sniffed, lowering yourself until your nose was buried into his heavy balls, and inhaled your curiosities.

The aroma of Tom’s musk was familiar and unfamiliar all at the same time. It was intoxicating. The scent was strong and pure when you pressed in. It was here, a pungent assault to your nose when you took another indulgent breath of his sweaty balls, and your senses went haywire when Tom’s fingers dug into your nape, scraping sweet lines of fire across the nape of your neck, and pulled you over his leaking cock.

Your inability to control yourself was as much of an arousal for Tom, judging by how his cock was twitching with every breath you took to fight off the urge in gulping him down.

“Wow, you really are a momma’s boy, aren’t you? Bet you have her constantly in your mind, telling you what’s right from wrong, don’t you? Tell me, what’s she saying while you’re sucking me off?”

“I don’t know what—mmf!”

Just like that, your mouth was full of Tom’s smell, full of him, god. Your eyes snapped shut and you choked down a moan as you took his thick cock into your mouth at the help of Tom’s bruising grip. One hand braced on his toned and flexed thigh while the other was wrapped around his shaft, holding him steady in your mouth. Your lips wrapped snug around him, hallowing your cheeks and flattening your tongue over veins—multiple veins that were the source of his pre-cum leaking into your mouth like a broken faucet.

Salt spread on your tongue, wakening every taste bud to an early bloom as you squeezed and stroked him at the base, forcing out more drips of pre-cum onto your tongue.

“Fuck, your mouth’s so warm…” His eyes widened at the warm and wet embrace of your tongue slobbering over his cock, groaning at the obscene sounds of your saliva spit-shining his shaft as he was leaning on his elbows. “God, look at you.”

“I’m doing okay…?” You gasped after pulling his cock out of your mouth, spitting out the thick, droopy web of saliva that connected your lips to Tom’s shaft back over the plump, swollen glans. You looked up at him for approval, wide-eyed and dazed, recovering from the stretch Tom had provided your mouth seconds prior.

When you needed a breather, you licked at the underside of his cock, tending to the inches you couldn’t possibly fit inside of your mouth with multiple tantalizing strokes of your hand. You spread your spit thick over his hard flesh, massaging every spit bubble until his cock and balls were moisturized with the slick of your mouth.

“Better than I could imagine, honestly…” Tom marveled with a chuckle, exhaling slow and deep from his gut to seemingly keep himself from spilling too early from your unrelenting strokes. His toes wiggled in his socks, a tic you found yourself simpering about because it was rather the opposite of Tom’s imposing demeanor.

He pressed two fingers against his own tongue, slicking it up with spit, before shoving them into your mouth to get a second opinion on your cock-sucking skills. Tom hummed, his hand removed from your nape to hold your chin up while he watched you take his fingers, pumping them in and out of your tight, sucking lips.

He seemed pleased.

Somehow, it was more intimate sucking his fingers off. Tom was staring. He had always been, which made you nervous since he introduced himself to you. But he was staring, as if he could control your every move with a simple look, as if he was capable of communicating with you without uttering a word. His lips parted, his brow raised, and you quickly caught on to reflect upon his wishes, diligently opening your lips to welcome a third slicked up finger into your mouth.

Right then and there, you figured Tom had taken your brain cells hostage and forged them to work in his favor. Whatever he wanted, you were absolutely pleased to do without a single complaint peeping from your end.

He pulled out embarrassing sounds that would’ve gotten you stoned if your mother ever heard them from your room. His other hand worked on your leaking cock, massaging your testicles and palming the plump tip, because he can—because you let him.

You were Tom’s puppet, and your body was at his disposal.

“See? This is fun, right?”

He slid his fingers out of your mouth ever so-slowly, the dim light catching onto the trail of spit that bridged his fingers and your tongue with a magical glint. They eventually lost their sparkle when Tom was quick to bring his hand to your ass and wet your exposed rim with a finger, circling the flesh at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“M-mm…”

It was pathetic how deprived of touch you were.

Something as simple as a tease made you writhe on all fours. All it took was a lazy stroke of his finger for you to arch your back and draw your ass out. You couldn’t manage more than a moan as Tom guided you flat on your stomach and himself behind you, continuing his taunts after freshly lubing his fingers and throbbing cock.

Upon the next turn, Tom had the generosity of delivering you of a fill that had been making your cock leak into his sheets, that had been making you rock your hips like you were an animal in heat.

After pushing your legs apart, Tom slowly slid one finger inside of you, his mouth opening in rapport, but also in wonder, as your tight hole welcomed his thick digit in with such warmth, your body locking up as pleasure entered your body.

“C-Christ…” you hissed, thighs clenching and ass squeezing around the foreign intrusion. Something like panic, mixed with agonizing, desperate need, froze you in your place, yet you could feel your body melt, beads of sweat forming over the slope of your tense shoulders and back muscles. Every contact point of your body meeting his, from his firm hand kneading your plump ass, to the tender push and pull of his finger, scorched.

“I don’t know, (M/N)… I don’t know if you can take my cock. My finger can barely move. Might have to call it a night…”

The thudding of your heart muffled your ears as Tom pressed in another finger after slowly working you open. Upon instinct, you closed your legs, only for Tom to spread them back apart before your sweaty thighs could meet, keeping yourself exposed and bare under his direction.

You chewed on a whimper, your face pressing into a pillow in your arms while Tom’s two fingers curled and pumped deep inside of you. You felt yourself pulsate around him, the tight ring of muscle unrelenting in its grip around his fingers, but Tom was determined to break you, another digit joining the pair of fingers, demeaning the tightness of your hole with an obnoxious whistle while pushing into your resistance. “Damn, look at that hole… barely fitting in three fingers.”

“N-no, I can take it. Please…” you gasped on an onslaught of curls, fast and repetitive until you were stretched enough for Tom to yank his fingers completely out of you and quickly feel withdrawal symptoms of his fill. Your thighs shook, your ass pushed out for more, your hole twitched in rapport—you murmured a whine that you needed Tom to hear, but was too self-conscious to let it be known, so you settled biting into his pillow to resist your throat from spilling.

“Such a shame. I thought you made the perfect fit for A.K.P., too.”

His touch was soft and exploring, smearing the sweat on your back over the expanse of your ass and covering it in a humiliating sheen that you’d reckon Tom was stroking himself to upon picking up on the lewd, slick sounds of lube sliding over something thick behind you.

“S-stop, stop, please. I-I’ve taken it before, just—give me a chance, yeah? Please? Hear me—feel me out?”

“You’re that desperate, huh? Don’t know if you need the pledge more, or my cock…”

“Your cock… Tom, please—“

“So, you wouldn’t mind if you received nothing in return, as long as my cock was inside of you? Fucking you? Breeding you?”

“No, I just—“

No, no, no. I don’t want you to stop. Please don’t stop. Your ass communicated those pleas in desperate wiggles. A strong smack to your ass cheeks meant to halt you in place, but it only made your hips more fervent as you graciously backed into the thick of Tom’s cock, reaching back and giving him a needy pump or two, then slid him against your crack.

A needy moan escaped when you felt the weight of his cock sandwiched between your cheeks.

“So, you don’t want my cock? I’m confused on what exactly you’re telling me. Hurry, before I lose my patience.”

You felt a stickiness to your rim. Peeking over your shoulder, you took a glimpse of Tom presumably tracing your hole with his cock and spreading his pre-cum thick over the smooth flesh. The small space grew humid with the tension between your body and his, heavy breaths adding onto the heavy air as Tom rocked into you, holding you by the waist, gliding his cock through the wetness of your lubed ass cheeks. His shaft rubbed over your hole, and your cock throbbed and leaked in between your legs at the chance that anytime now—Tom could breach you open, and fill you wondrously. Your hole clenched at the thought, aided by Tom’s hands pressing your cheeks tighter around his cock as it slid over you.

If only you could command your asshole to open, because you would’ve taken him in by now.

“I want you inside of me, Tom. F-forget the pledge, I just—I need something, someone inside of me. Please, just—Christ, fuck me. Fuck me with your thick cock. Fuck your cum into me. Fuck my ass until I’m nothing but a gaping hole dripping with your seed. Don’t even care if we never see each other again, please, Tom—”

Your eagerness took Tom by surprise, making him chuckle and slap his cock over your blinking hole before resuming on sliding his shaft against your crack, hopefully for one last turn. “Who knew you had such a potty mouth?”

You don’t know what drew you back to looking at Tom again. Maybe it was the hard, brawn structure of his body, cut straight from a sculpture of the most heroic Greek warrior. The firm lines of his abdominal muscles, or the way his snapback was adjusted backwards, emphasizing his soft, yet handsome looks. All in all, you didn’t mean what you said.

You would absolutely care if you never saw him again.

He was too good.

His rough hands over your ass, smacking them whenever you would try to angle your hips in a way to fit him in, were too good. His delicate kisses on your neck, back, and shoulders, quelling the tremble of your limbs, were too good. His soft lips, when you and him met halfway until your mouths were exchanging breaths, making the effort of holding yourself still against him excruciating, were too good.

Tom’s lips ghosted over yours, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. You groaned as he supported your core with a strong hand, opening your mouth to take more. Every part of you, even the moisture in your body, wanted to touch him. You were sweating, drooling into his mouth, leaking into Tom’s palm when he wandered down to stroke your cock; all strong indicators that you were losing control, if you hadn’t already.

His voice, as he murmured something about your body in your ear while he was gathering you against him, was too good. His breath forced itself between your lips, breathing out a supply of oxygen into your mouth, into your lungs, to prepare you for the inevitable, and you had never felt so fragile before—especially so, when you found yourself quickly using up Tom’s oxygen when he pushed his cock into you without hesitation, without warning, your body hammered by a thousand needles in the process.

“T-Tom!” you hissed in a breath, but it only made the grip on your hips more strident when his thrust made you collapse back onto all fours. It wouldn’t be surprising if your skin was blemished with bruises the very next day with the way his fingers dug into your flesh.

Tom was generous enough to let you adjust to his size, indulging in the warmth and tightness of your entrance with only the tip of his plump cock despite feeling like he had toppled your backside with all of his body weight. Even then, those minuscule ruts were enough to make you whimper out of agony.

“So fucking tight…”

Tom pulled himself out and spread your ass cheeks apart, marveling and silently wondering to himself how he was going to puzzle himself inside of you. Some spit would surely help. He licked his fingers, then pressed it over your swollen hole, smoothing the skin before pushing the tip back in, having only a tenuous grasp on his self-control.

After the burning mellowed with the help of multiple deep exhales and kisses from Tom, you felt yourself finally unravel the moment he moved his hips. Your fingers raked against his abs as you reached back to pace his hips, palm on his pelvis to keep from completely ruining you. A shiver ran down the length of your spine as Tom smoothed a hand over your back, then kept it at the lower half, pushing deeper into you while he held you still. You made a sound, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, pleasured yet disoriented by the ample stretch Tom was providing you with. It gutted the fog of arousal, you could feel your hole instinctively pushing his cock out with overwhelmed pulses, but Tom was persistent, driving into you deeper— harder—the moment your body tried to resist him.

“Don’t mind it hard, right?” Tom asked against your ear, gruff in between his slow, yet deep strokes.

“Please,” you whimpered, barely getting the word out before Tom’s hand found its way to your mouth, covering it and holding your head back at the millisecond your answer registered in his brain, giving him the green light to pummel you relentlessly.

Your eyes popped open when Tom soared, bucking his hips wildly into you. Cries of pleasure, your whimpers and moans of being hammered with such overwhelming desire for your body, were muffled into the palm of Tom’s hand. He squeezed your cheeks, loud groans leaving your throat, and your torso arched into the mattress.

The brutal stretch was what you’d been needing. All this pent up sex drive that you had been harboring for so long came exploding out of you like molten lava, scorching your torso and all in effect. Your body was on fire, coupling with Tom’s as sweat dripped from his forehead, and somewhere onto your backside. Your mind emptied out while you hovered in the space between deprived arousal and complete ecstasy, only perfected by Tom’s cockhead screwing into your tight, clamping hole.

“Open,” Tom demanded with a huff, and you did as you were told at the prodding of his fingers. You welcomed him in with the parting of your lips, luring each digit with the curl of your wet tongue. “You like that? You like taking my hard cock like this? Fucking you open until you’re nothing but a hole? God, look at you drooling…”

As Tom pumped inside of you at a steady pace, angling his hips so he stretched you wider, you suckled on his fingers as they remained hooked over your mouth—you were starting to guess that he loved having them sucked, or at least, liked playing with the idea of having himself inside of you in more ways than one.

It was a messy affair. Pools of saliva leaked from either corners of your mouth. The smell of sex was thickening in between the heavy pants that you and Tom would collectively exile. It wouldn’t be long until your body was drenched in sweat, and you’d come to realize that you wouldn’t be alone in that department. Tom had his sweaty arm around your throat, pushing all of his body weight onto you and gutting you open with the deep hammering of his thrusts. His chest rumbled with wild growls as he pounded into you from behind, burying your hole to the root of his shaft, fucking you with the salacious sound of his heavy and musky sack slapping against your sweat-stained taint. You whimpered when his cockhead brushed past that sweet spot of yours, an unfamiliar feeling that you had no doubts in wanting to befriend.

“O-oh, that’s s-so g-good—“ You bit into his forearms, the thick vein pulsing through looking appetizing, and you were glad you did it because—it was like an ‘on’ switch for Tom.

“Taking my cock so well—your mom would be disgusted, wouldn’t she? Knowing her baby boy is taking a man’s cock. Want you to remember this. I don’t care how many cocks you had before me. I want you to remember what my cock feels like, digging deep inside of you. And when I’m done with you, I don’t want you coming home, crying to mommy—because I’ll never be done with you. Once you get your bid, you’re fucking mine.”

This was it.

This was Tom at his peak performance.

And your body was at his mercy.

He pulled out, flipped you over, then hooked your legs over his shoulders before resuming in his relentless rapture.

You stroked yourself to the image before you, a tight fist around your aching cock, squeezing from base to tip, spreading your pre-cum down your already sticky length, while your other hand toyed with your nipples, playing with the perky nubs.

Tom’s muscular body dripped in sweat. His teeth gritted as he struggled to control his volume. Glimpses of the base of his cock would appear when he would pull out, only to be hidden by the trimmed hairs of his pubic hair when he would shove himself back in, veins of his large cock throbbing and basking in your warmth. Hard and strong kisses layered your ankles while Tom’s pecs jiggled with every thrust he made. Even if you weren’t being fucked right now, you could get off to this. You could come right now, to the absolute bliss on Tom’s face as he buried himself deep inside of you, impaling you with his cock, moulding your hole to the shape of his shaft.

It enthralled you knowing how much pleasure your body gave Tom.

The squeaking of the bed roped everything together, gathering all sorts of noises—lewd sounds of sex and delirious desire—like a beautiful symphony. Your moans against his were the choir when Tom came down to kiss you hard on the mouth, sloppy and wet as he explored you open both ways. His tongue curious into your mouth and his thick cock rearranging your guts.

Your hands freely roamed over the expanse of his broad back, clutching and scratching at his back muscles when he curled his hips in a way that made you arch your body off the bed and knocked the breath out of you. God, he was so strong. So buff. You could feel his back muscles move in sync with his hips, flexing and flaring as he sank his cock deep into you. Your body stuttered, your eyes shut tight, tears nearly welling from the utter pleasure, shriveling as Tom would batter your prostate with better precision every time his hips came down on you. You couldn't be bothered to find the proper words to tell Tom how good he was making you feel, so you settled for a mixture of gasps, whimpers, and a daring scratch over the length of his spine.

That was telling enough, right?

Tom growled at the sting overloading his senses when you made your marks, grazing his teeth and lips over the palm of your hand when he reached back to take and hold the culprit of the forming welts before him. You and him shared a gaze, a kiss when he lowered himself and briefly settled on imposing you with strong, but slow and deep thrusts. To catch his breath. To catch yours. You both exchanged breaths, swapped saliva, explored each other's mouths, held each other hands, and the intimacy of it all made it all the more tranquilizing for you.

“Gonna breed that ass of yours. Fuck, it’s perfect for me. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Have your hole dripping, gaping, and raw? Maybe I’ll get the bros to look at the mess you made. Maybe they’ll want in on it and have a turn at your body, too. It could be your initiation, hm? Could skip the entire process, and be a Greek, as long as you let all of us breed you. How does that sound?”

“Holy, s-shit—“

You pumped your cock, a familiar feeling quickly bubbling to a high from the pit of your stomach, all the way to your swollen nipples, and you knew what awaited you as that sensation wouldn’t falter. Your heart beat ran faster than the effort of caffeine. Even though it was muffled, the rhythmic beats downstairs were still resonant, and you were absolutely outpacing its tempo. The heat of Tom’s hands returned on your body. He caressed and rubbed your hips, thighs, chest, balls, and ass, all while he urged you to come.

“There we go. Good boy. Keep fucking that fist. Yeah, fuck—“

His palms smoothed over your skin, up the sides of your body, thumbs pressing into either sides of your hips, then maneuvered you with his strength to meet him half-way into his strong thrusts. His biceps flexed, thick veins demonstrating his rush of adrenaline and sheer strength as he brought you down onto his cock with thundering claps, sweaty skin contacting sweaty skin, constantly assaulting your prostate with his swollen cockhead.

It both frightened and thrilled you, your eyes blown, and you felt yourself quickly spill, thick and heavy over your stomach, knowing you were at Tom’s disposal. You shuddered, watching the thick ropes of cum fly high before splattering and soon pooling at the plane of your body.

“I’m close—“

“Come inside of me, please–“

You were panting as your cock finished spilling itself all over your stomach and chest, as Tom’s big cock pounded in and out of you with such ease now, the weight of his hips coming down on you making you continuously bounce on the mattress.

“Fuck.”

His breathing was even heavier than yours, laced with grunts as he used your ass like a toy, pulling hard and pushing you as he pleased, breaching you with the thick of his cock. His thrusts become wilder, sweat dampening his snapback as Tom mustered up the rest of his strength and energy to completely overpower you. His swollen cock dug deep, you could feel every veins about to burst. With a choke of your name, he delivered one more grandiose rut against your ass, the impact of his hips biting sharp into the back of your thighs, and filled you with his cum, burying you to the root.

“Holy shit…”

“O-oh, god—“

Warmth spread thick inside of you, and you writhed and groaned as your hole swallowed another fat fill. Tom’s body goes slack, crashing into your arms immediately, and he moaned on each slow thrust, creaming you from the inside and out. You strained toward him in desperation, wrapping your legs around his hips to lock him in place, and reaching over to his ass to push him deeper, to urge him to keep breeding you as your hole held Tom’s sensitive cock with gratitude, taking his thick seed without hesitation, until his cock veins stopped pulsating.

As promised, Tom kept you impaled, rocking his hips and kissing you once more, soft and passionate, something of him owing you one laced in the way he smooched your lips and refused to let you reciprocate—because Tom never came like that before. His hand was tender on your cheek, stroking the dried stain of drool that was left abandoned when he pulled away to look at you, properly this time. You sighed, brushing the snapback off his head to let his scalp breathe, and pulled him in at the introduction of a sudden draft, your legs still anchored by his hips.

You lay intertwined, sharing deep kisses in between moments of recovery, where the post-nut clarity rendered you and Tom into fit of collective shy laughter, incredulous to the affair both of you had just engaged in.

“So, you live on campus?”

“Oh—yeah. East side, near Turing…”

“Figured you’d be a science guy. Anyways, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. Give me your phone.”

“Pick me up? For what?”

“Christ. Did I fuck the memory out of you or something? Bid day’s tomorrow. It gets hectic, so I think it’ll be better if you stick with me.”

“Won’t that… be suspicious?”

“Nah. Plus, I figured we’d get an early start on your initiation…”

“You mean—“

“Fuck, yeah.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[simp-for-steve]

do you want to be my valentine?

steve harrington x gn!reader

“do you want to be my valentine?”

six years old. with chubby knees and chubby cherub cheeks to match. dressed by your mother in shades of pink and red, holding out a handmade pink paper card. splattered in too much glitter and messily cut hearts sloppily glued down.

your valentine, a boy who turns seven in two months, stares at you with wide brown eyes. he also has light freckles scattered over his face, your mom said beauty marks were from past lives.

“yeah, sure!” steve smiles with delight. your heart beat quickens it’s pulse at the high pitched reply.

do you want to be my valentine?

few years later turning you from six to thirteen.

steve didn’t show up to school today, so you biked to his home once the bell rang loudly. sure the idea of handing out cards was childish now in your pre-teen years, but you always give one to steve and he always excepts with delight.

do you want to be my valentine?

hawkins middle changes into hawkins high school. now at the age of seventeen boy were dumb, like always, but now horny was attached. steve surrounded himself with jackass friends and girls that happily flung themselves at him.

you weren’t even a thought once he became ‘the king’. you gifted him a valentine in sophomore year, sliding the envelope into his locker. you watched as he walked with his friends durning passing period and stopped at his last. carol and tommy started making fun of him when the red paper fell to the floor.

so for the first time, you didn’t ask steve to be your valentine. and don’t plan to in the coming years.

do you want to be my valentine?

scoops was having a week long sale for a valentine’s themed desert. the s s cupid. strawberry ice cream topped with chocolate syrup, pink and white sprinkles and a dollop of whipped cream.

you’ve had to stand and watch as couples feed each other. you wanted to smash their faces into the sugary delights.

your just jealous. jealous they have someone while you daydream about harrington. who you work with while slowly rekindling your friendship.

robin, your new friend, says steve’s ‘got it bad for you’ her words. you just brush her off and ignore the warmth covering your ears.

during your lunch, steve sets a s s cupid in front of you and your homemade sandwich.

“what’s this?” raising a brow at the tooth ache treat.

steve sat in the chair across from you, a pink tint on his apples. “special treat for a special someone.” his fingers curled around the table edge.

now both brows raised, “oh? so i’m a special someone to you, harrington?” trying to tease steve while digging your spoon into the softening ice cream.

“well yeah.” he shrugged, “you’re my first valentine and haven’t done… that, in a few years. so, i have a question.” you could see the edge leaving steve each second.

“what’s the question?” scooping ice cream into your mouth, watching steve who watches you.

he took a deep swallow, his adam’s apple bobbing, “i was wondering, and hoping, if you’d like to be my valentine this year? and hopefully many more in the future?”

you couldn’t help your smile, “got tired of being asked?”

now steve smiled, “no, i liked being asked. by you and only you and then you stopped and- and it sucked. and it made me realize how much i like having those two things in my life.” he reached his arm across the table, fingers seeking out your own.

you hesitated before grazing your fingertips over his then linking hands together. “i missed asking you every year.”

steve grinned brightly, “you can ask every year. when ever you want.”

[simp-for-steve]

pairing: nate jacobs x male reader

request: can you do a Nate Jacob’s hate fuck fic where reader is teasing Nate after Nate is seen talking with Maddy, which involves a lot of daddy kink

warnings: smut, slight degradation, cursing, recording, rough sex

you and nate had been secretly dating for a while now, ans although you wanted to make it public nate held back because he didn't want the school to think different of him, you thought that was complete bullshit but you respected his wishes and didn't pester him over it until after his football practice one day you saw him stop and talk to maddy, the way he lit up in that conversation made you think a little "what if he likes her".

as nate walked into the locker room after everyone left so he could get some alone time you walked in also "what was that with maddy" you ask behind him making him jump a little "jesus christ y/n" he says "what do you want" "i wanna know what that was with you and maddy" you ask again "it was nothing she was just telling me i did good while practicing" nate shrugs it off "do you think she wants to fuck you" you say leaning against the lockers.

"what the fuck are you trying to say" nate says obviously getting madder "i'm saying do you want to fuck her" you ask matching his anger "no i don't want to fuck her" nate yells now towering over you "well it definitely looked like it" you yell back "listen here you fucking bitch i didn't want to fuck maddy" nate shouts at you "fuck you nate" you say but as you turn to walk away nate grabs you and shoves you onto the lockers with your ass now on his crotch.

"you want me to fuck you huh" nate smirks "maybe" you smirk back "you're such a fucking brat" nate snarls "and you're such a fucking dick" you retort with some sass "shut the fuck up" nate says taking his dirty jock strap and shoving it in your mouth to shut you up "finally some peace and quiet" nate huffs before he runs his hand down to your pants, slipping past the waistband and to your hole.

he runs his thick fingers across your hole making you whine and a shiver run down your spine "please fuck me" you say muffled "shut up" nate demands as he pulls your pants and underwear down revealing your plump ass to him "why do you always have to be such a brat huh" nate asks spitting on his and lathering it on his dick and putting some on your hole "you just have to be a pain in the ass every time you're near me" nate continues.

nate thrusts into without making you moan but its muffled by his jock strap "is it because i wont let everyone know i'm dating you" nate question pounding into you making you whimper with each one "because i wont tell people i'm the one fucking this hole every night" nate says pulling the jock strap out of your mouth so you can answer him.

"why cant we just let people know we're dating" you ask moaning out into the empty locker room as it echos throughout "then lets let them know" nate says pulling out his phone and begins recording you taking his dick deep "c'mon y/n tell the world how you're moaning and creaming all over my dick" nate says grabbing your chin to force you to look at the camera.

"fuck you nate that's not what i meant" you say embarrassed by your own reflection in the phone "so you pester me to tell everyone but when i pull out the phone to tell everyone you become a pussy" nate curses slamming his hips into yours harder "you know i mean tell everyone you're dating me instead of letting every other girl flirt with you" you say dropping your head onto the lockers "and what if i want to fuck those other girls more than you" nate teases pulling your head up by your hair and bringing the camera closer to you face.

"come on look at the camera" nate orders "cant wait to jerk off to this later" nate mutters, you wanted to look but couldn't bring yourself to watch yourself get slutted out to nate "fuck" you groan cumming all over the floor "aww look at that, cumming untouched" nate teases "you want me to fill you up, claim you as mine" nate asks leaning down to kiss your neck "please daddy" you beg "oh daddy, that's new but i like it, call me it again" nate asks leaving some hickeys on your neck "please cum in me daddy claim me as yours" you beg with even more desperation in your voice.

"oh fuck" nate moans out huskily before filling you up, huffs falling from his mouth as he stops recording "do you promise to stop being a brat if i tell everyone we're dating" nate asks breathless as he rests his head on your shoulder "yes" you say still shaken after then knee weakening experience "fine" nate says pulling his phone back out "and what if i just posted the sex vid instead" nate teases "you better fucking not" you worriedly say trying to snatch the phone from him

taglist: @mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m