#but once im done with that i hand the reigns back over

[oflgtfol]

im becoming the designated sunday craft person which i like bc i love being paid to just do crafts for 2 hours AND i like doing crafts AND its making me get better at interacting with kids. im still awkward but im also just an awkward person in general so i feel like im becoming less Uniquely Awkward Around Children because of this

[calumfmu]

The King's Reign

King Steve, the stupid nickname you had heard your entire life. The rumors, the huge ego to match. It was everything that made you hate him, especially when your best friend wouldn't shut up about him. Robin was forcing you to be friends with him, but it wouldn't stop the passion you had dedicated to wanting nothing to do with him.

Steve Harrington x reader, enemies to lovers edition, 7.7k+ words

cw: smut, unprotected sex, oral, Steve talking you through it (!!), fingering, angst, tension, 18+, mdni

You had heard rumors of ‘King Steve’ your entire life. Being in a small town like Hawkins allowed every rumor—big or small, to be spread like wild fire. Even when it came to talking about Steve Harrington’s dick. No matter what you did, nothing could allow you to escape the whispers throughout the town.

When Robin had befriended the man of conversation, you were annoyed, to say the least. You could barely escape him when you were trying not to listen to the gossip mill, but it was even harder when your best friend wouldn’t shut up about the guy.

You chewed on a fry, eyes focused behind your friend as you gazed at a group of girls from your school across the way. They were walking into a Tammy’s, hair higher than ever and short shorts hiked up on their long legs. You stared at them, wondering if they had a run around with the guy.

Robin was droning on about something Steve had done today at work, involving a bunch of kids who seemed too young for him.

A fry hit the side of your head, knocking your focus into her instead of the girls across the mall.

“Yn!” Robin sighed, rolling her eyes at you. “You’re not even listening to me.”

“And you would be incorrect,” you responded, smoothing the grease off of your face from where it hit. You grimaced, annoyed at her antics. “You said something about Steve, some kid named Justin, and a stupid handshake or something.”

Robin pressed her lips in a straight line, rolling her eyes once more. They might roll out of her head at this point, you thought.

“His name is Dustin, and the handshake wasn’t stupid, it was cute,” she huffed, throwing her hands in the air. She pushed her food tray away from her, burger half eaten and fries lay abandon across the plastic.

You gasped, leaning across the table and you crossed your arms over your chest. “Woah, Rob.”

She furrowed her brow, wondering what you were getting at.

“I had no idea you swung that way, new development I see.” You wiggled your eyebrows at her, wanting to see how far her patience went. “I just have to know—is it as big as everyone says it is?”

You laughed and leaned back in your chair, blocking your face with your arms as Robin threw a handful of fries at you. Her patience ran out, clearly.

“Yn, can you please be serious for once?” The brunette whined, pouting out her bottom lip as she looked at you. Her infamous begging face. “I’m just telling you because I want you to be friends with him. I can’t be a child of divorce between you. It’s so emotionally draining.”

You giggled, eyeing the way her uniform made her look ridiculous as she begged you. It was rumpled in all the wrong places, red tie hanging loosely at her neck. It made her look like she was perpetually going to a Halloween party.

“How do you think I feel being an actual child of divorce?”

She gaped at you, mouth hanging open as she was at a loss of words. Sputtering, she found the words to say, “Fuck, okay my bad. You know what I meant!”

“I know, Rob, Im just fucking with you,” you laughed, shaking your head as she flushed in the face. She genuinely felt bad, you could tell.

Your parents had recently divorced, next month marking the full year since their split. Tommy and his stupid friends had made it their entire personality and asked you about it ever since the news hit the town. What’s wrong with Mommy and Daddy, they would ask. Daddy found out Mommy slept with the entire town?

You grimaced, thinking about the memories. None of the rumors were true, but that didn’t falter the town people into thinking that you all should be walking around with a Scarlet Letter on your chest.

Shaking your head, you diverted the subject as you hand came to rest of the table. “Me and Steve have never been friends, so you can’t be a child of divorce, Rob. And also, I don’t want to be friends with him.”

Robin stretched her arms across the table, grasping your hand in the two of hers. “Yn, please. I know we both used to hate him-”

“Still do.”

“-but I really think you’ll like him,” she continued, not batting an eyelash at your interruption. “He’s not that same Steve-”

“King Steve.”

“-that everyone talks about. Those rumors are just rumors, I mean, you know how it goes.” She paused when you looked away from her, squinting as you stared unfocused in the distance. You took a deep breath, clearing your throat in discomfort as you turned to look back at her. “Please, Yn?”

You chose silence in this moment, blinking at her with a serious expression on your face as she pouted at you. Her blue eyes were practically watering at this point, long lashes batting rapidly at you.

“Please, Yn.”

Her pleads continued, grip squeezing into your hand as a deadpan expression was being held on your face. This went on for another two minutes (you counted) as she begged you, leaning down every 15 seconds or so to kiss at your hand.

“Okay! Okay, fine, Rob!” You gave in, laughing as she decided to place kisses all over every inch of your hand. She cheered, throwing her hands in celebration before shaking them clasped at the sides of her head, as if thanking an audience for winning an award.

“I literally love you so much, Yn,” she beamed at you, lips stretched thin as she exposed all of her teeth to you. You don’t think she’s smiled this big, ever. “So, tonight, I was thinkin-”

“Tonight?!” Your eyes opened wide, heart beating in your chest as you realized how soon this interaction was going to be. You thought you at least had more than a few hours.

“Oh,” she smirked at you, tilting her head to the side. “Did I not mention that it was tonight?”

Sighing, you trailed a hand down your face, pulling down your features as she shared the details to come. You loved your friend, you really did. She was your best friend, but Christ was she a lot sometimes.

Awkward wasn’t the word to describe the tension in the room. The only sound you could hear was Robin’s nails clacking against the sound of her glass, and Steve’s occasional cough.

You were curled into the side of the couch, Steve on the other, Robin in between the two of you. Steve was looking every which way except the two of you, hand running through his hair as he chewed on his bottom lip. Robin glanced between the two of you, taking sips of her watered down sloppy cocktail in her hand. She kept moving to say something, mouth opening and closing around empty words.

You with your back against the arm of the couch, feet tucked into you as you stared down Steve. You were curious, if they were to ask you. You took in his features, his long hair, giant brown eyes, and navy—is that fucking cashmere?—sweater across his shoulders.

You were observing why him and Robin were friends, why this man had such a hold on your friend. He was attractive, you could admit, boyish features drawing you in, in a way you would never admit in a thousand years. He seemed nervous in this moment, something you hadn’t expected him to be. Cocky, arrogant, rude, brash, anything but this.

But he was still King Steve. The man you had heard about since you went to elementary school together. You were forced to listen to stories of Steve kissing girls underneath the jungle gym evolved to him fucking them in the back of his BMW at the drive-in. It was repulsive.

Robin cleared her throat, drawing your attention away from Steve as his into her. She offered a small smile, awkwardly tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“So… guys,” she phrased it like a question, voice dragging up on the end of the word. “How about actual conversation?”

“Sure.”

“No.”

The two of you having contradictory answers caused your eyes to be pulled into each other. Your face was unmoving as Steve raised his eyebrows at you, confused.

“I’d rather sit in silence,” you muttered, breaking eye contact with him as you leaned your head into your hand. Staring at him while he was focused on something else was one thing, but holding eye contact made you crumble, a slight blush crossing your features. You focused on Robin, shaking your head as she gave you a pleading look.

The blush on your face didn’t go unnoticed by Steve, a suggestive quirk of his eyebrow coming up to cross his face. It was like a switch flipped, the cockiness that surrounded the King Steve rumors coming into play.

“I think that’s a great idea, Rob,” he muttered, voice low as he stared into you. You turned your face towards the coffee table, examining the items abandon on the glass. Your eye twitched at the nickname of your best friend you so often used. You studied the nearly full bottle of vodka surrounded by shot glasses, a deck of cards, and a joint tucked into a clear baggie.

Robin had been optimistic at the night having a positive turn of events.

“I’ll start,” Steve said, turning his entire body so he was facing you. Your bodies mirrored each other, Robin sitting awkwardly in the middle as her eyes flitted between the two of you. “So, Yn… How come I’ve been friends with Robin this long, and have never had the honor of meeting you?”

“Wish I could say the same,” you rolled your eyes, leaning your head on your hand. Your heart was beating heavy behind your chest as you watched this man practically morph into a completely different person.

“Yn…” Robin’s hand came to rest on your knee, squeezing as her voice was a warning to you. Be on your best behavior, you could hear her thoughts.

“Hmm,” he answered, you felt his eyes brushing over your figure. You felt insecure in that moment, focusing on the bottle of vodka as you debated the quickest way to black out in that moment. “I’m just saying, Yn. I’ve heard about you for so long, yet I think this is the first time I’ve even seen you.”

You cut your eyes suddenly to him, your own gaze darkening as his words echoed through the room. You weren’t going to crumble (this time), your mind intent on showing him you weren’t intimidated by him.

At the eye contact, his smirk widened even further. There was a glint of something in his eye, similar to the stories you had heard of the Harrington Charm, or so it was called.

“Funny enough, I’ve heard a lot about you too, Steve,” you replied, huffing as his name left your mouth. “This town can’t stop talking about you. King Steve and how you’re so irresistible.”

The last word in your mouth dripped with venom, squinting your eyes at the suggestive look on his face.

Silence held the next few moments, Robin looking at the ceiling as she muttered words under her breath. It sounded something like a prayer.

“Would you like to find out, Yn?” His voice was low as his eyes bored into you, teeth dragging across his bottom lip as your name escaped his lips. Hair hung into his eyes, head tilted down slightly as he leaned forward an inch. Your breath hitched at the small movement, words at a loss.

Robin shot up from the couch suddenly, arms thrown into the air as she turned around to face the two of you. She shook her shoulders, grimacing at the interaction. “Okay!”

Steve slowly dragged his eyes away from you, smirk disappearing as he glanced up at the brunette. Just like that, King Steve was gone. He settled back into the arm of the couch as his eyebrows were raised to his hairline, lips parted as he stared at your best friend.

“Enough of whatever that was,” Robin tried to blink away the memory, hands resting at her hips. She turned to look at the coffee table behind her, leaning over to grab the abandoned bottle of vodka and the deck of cards. Grimace still present amongst her features, she held them up. “Drinking game, anyone?”

The night continued among the three of you, shots being poured as matching face cards were being thrown onto the table. You were pretty drunk at this point, vision blurring as you leaned into your friend. She was resting her head on top of yours, laughing at something Steve was doing.

He had stuck a card to his forehead, trying to guess which one it was. His eyes were glazed over, slightly hooded with intoxication as him and Robin bickered back and forth about the number of cards there was in deck.

He was losing the debate, set on why Robin was wrong. You had a dopey smile on your face, enjoying the interaction between the two of them. You could see why they got along, energies so different, yet so similar.

“Harrington, you’re so wrong,” Robin laughed, shaking her head as she ripped the card off of his face. A small red mark was left behind, Steve groaning as he rubbed it.

She stood up from the floor, stretching her arms out as she walked away from where you all were surrounding the coffee table.

“I’m starving, Steve, come with me,” she demanded, holding a hand out to help the man up as he complained.

“What about me?” You asked, frowning as you watched him begin to trail her into the kitchen. Your question went unanswered, the two disappearing around the corner.

You sighed to yourself, laying out your body on the floor as the room began to spin in circles. Eyes closing, you held your breath, praying you sober up a little before the end of the night comes upon you.

The look on Steve’s face flashed behind the darkness of your eyes, the sound of your name in his voice echoed in your ears. You felt a small smile creeping on you, only for you to open your eyes suddenly, viscerally shaking the memory out of your mind.

What the fuck, Yn? You questioned yourself, blinking as you looked around the room. Glancing at a clock across the room, you noticed it was half past 1 a.m., way later than you realized. Fuck, my parents are going to kill me.

You glanced towards the direction of the kitchen, head tilting back against the carpet. Robin and Steve’s voices were low, but urgent, causing you to sit up on your elbows.

You strained your ears, trying to focus in on her words.

“-don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Steve!”

“Whaaat?”

Their voices were heavy with the liquor, almost sounding drowsy.

“Stop trying to fuck my friends, Steve. I’m serious.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, breath getting caught in your chest as you heard Steve laugh loudly at her words.

“Shhh!” You heard a thud, presumably the sound of her hand hitting him, based on the “Ow! What the hell!” that followed.

“Steve…”

Silence followed the conversation, your ears straining to see if the conversation continued, only for you to be met with the sound of footsteps coming your way. You panicked, moving to lay back down on the carpet. You crossed your hands over your chest, breathing fast as you tried to pretend like you hadn’t eavesdropped that entire thing.

Glancing up, you saw Steve swaying over you, hand on his hips as he smiled down at you. The overhead light shone over him, creating a halo around his perfectly styled hair.

You allowed yourself to stare for only a second before rolling your eyes.

“You’re blocking my light, Harrington,” you muttered, turning your head in the opposite direction.

He chuckled, moving so he sat next to you. He sat with his legs pulled close to him, being held together with his arms as they were clasped together.

“Sorry, didn’t realize you were getting a tan,” he was sarcastic in his words, light look on his face. He stared down at you, eyes grazing over your stretched out limbs.

“Why don’t you like me, Yn?” He asked, teeth pulling at the skin on his lip.

You closed your eyes, sighing as he started up that shit again. Did you not just have that conversation earlier that night?

“I quite like you,” his voice was a whisper now, hand coming out to dance at the edge of your own sweater. You pulled your arm away from him, tucking your elbow into your side. “You’re good for Robin.”

Questioning where Robin was, you glanced in the direction of the kitchen. Coming out was muffled sounds of her moving around the refrigerator, glasses clinging into one another. She was muttering to herself, something about pickles dipped in Greek yogurt.

“I think you’d be good for me, too.” The low tone of his voice had you squeezing your legs together, watching as his eyes briefly looked down at the movement. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling the strands back into place.

“Leave me alone, Steve.” You tried to even your voice out as much as possible.

“I know you’re curious,” Steve cocked his head to the side, eyes trailing over your face. “About King Steve and his reign.”

You hacked a laugh, surprised at the boldness he had in this moment. The man’s ego was huge, even if he had the looks to back it.

“His reign? Is that what you want to call it?” Before you knew it, a small smirk of your own toyed at your lips.

“Oh, we can call it whatever you want,” the smile dropped from his lips as that darkened look took over his eyes once more. The amber glow of his irises turned nearly black, eyes narrowing as he stared into yours.

“The only thing I’m curious about,” you felt his fingers brush your clothes ribcage, ignoring the sensation, “is how there’s not a single bad thing to be said about this King Steve.”

His eyes slowly dragged over you, starting at your eyes to your lips to your chest and lingering at the spot between your thighs before returning to meet your gaze. He sucked in his bottom lip, gaze glancing towards the kitchen door as Robin began to make her way out, balancing about seven things between her arms.

She giggled, paying attention to the shaking of the items as she tried to not spill anything.

Steve’s voice dropped to a low whisper, barely audible, “Don’t you know that curiosity killed the cat?”

You gulped, eyes on him as he switched it off, getting up to help Robin as she struggled with the items. You are so fucked.

Ever since that night between the three of you, you had been tagging along with Robin and her newfound friend more. The facade had been dropped, Steve no longer being flirtatious with you as you tried your hardest to ignore him.

He began to treat you the same as Robin, making stupid jokes towards you and letting his nerdy side come out during the interactions. Your hard exterior slightly crumbled away, defenses lowering as you realized that Robin may have been right about him. They weren’t completely gone, just lowered just enough to get to know him.

He wasn’t as much as an asshole as you imagined, he spent most of nights with a bunch of kids anyways. It was surprising, you had muttered some joke about the kids being “a little too young for you, Harrington?” only to earn his disapproval back. It was the most serious he had been since you met him, eyes dropping to the floor as he shook his head. You felt bad, seeing how defensive he had been over these kids he had practically adopted.

After that interaction, you dropped the King Steve stuff, seeing that your perception of him had been completely wrong. You would love to say that a beautiful friendship was blossoming between the two of you, but it was the opposite of that. You still hated him.

Every time you looked at him, you were reminded of his past, his stupid friend group that he used to hang with. Tommy had made the past few years of your life a living hell, torments of your parents separation and alleged affairs circling in the depths of your mind.

You watched him as he sat on the back porch of his house, cigarette hanging between his fingers as he reclined in the lawn chair over looking the pool. Robin sat in the chair next to him, turning the dial of the stereo as she tried to find a station with “goddamn decent music.”

The night sky hung heavy over you, your feet dipped into the pool as you watched the two from your perch on the side of the pool.

Smoke circled around him, lacing in and out of his hair as he looked in the night sky. A single light from the sliding glass door illuminated the back yard. His hair was annoying, perfectly framing his features as he blinked into the stars of the night.

As you took in the view of him and the rest of his backyard, rolling your eyes at the wealth that stood around you. Typical Harrington and his perfect home.

“Okay, fuck this,” Robin sighed, huffing as she shut off the stereo. She rose from the lawn chair, slipping on her shoes that lay beside it. “I’m over this, I’m going to bed.”

She began walking towards the sliding door, ruffling Steve’s hair as she past him. You protested, kicking your foot in the water.

“You’re going home?” You asked, watching as she paused to speak to you.

“Gonna sleep in Steve’s parents room, they’re not home,” she shrugged, yawning as she stretched her arms over her head.

“Never home,” Steve muttered with a shake of his head, thinking it was under his breath as he took a drag of his cigarette. You glanced at him, brow crinkling slightly at his comment.

“Just come up whenever you’re tired, Yn.” Robin turned, muttering a “g’night” as she made her way into the house, sliding the door behind her.

You looked down at your feet, watching the way the water circled at your ankles. Sounds of water swirling and crickets chirping in the stickiness of the night were filling your senses. You almost forgot Harrington was there, the sound of his cigarette burning out in the water interrupting your thoughts.

You looked at him from where he flicked it in the water. He stared at the way the burned bud floated in the water, moving in small circles as it soaked up the water around it. He seemed to be in a trance, eyes unfocused as they squinted around his thoughts.

You turned your eyes towards your feet again, ignoring him. You didn’t care. He was still that same Steve you despised so much.

“You want to sit here?” Steve asked, pulling you from thoughts once more. “Waters gotta be cold.”

“Absolutely not.” You were stubborn, squaring in your shoulders as your defenses picked up. You heard him huff, breath long as he exhaled.

“Why the fuck are you so rude?” He snapped, your head quickly swiveling to look at him. He shook his head as his hand rested at his bent knee, he continued to stare into the water. The half empty cigarette box was being turned over and over in his grasp.

“Easy for you to say, Harrington,” you shot back, anger seething through you as you got out of the pool. Water dripped around your feet as you grabbed your shoes next to you. You began to storm past him, muttering curses at him. “Good fucking night, asshole.”

You stopped at his chair, glaring down at him as he looked at you, eyes shifting up in your direction as his head stayed centered. Warmth flashed over you as you imagined he looked just like The Fallen Angel in this moment, eyes rimmed red as his gaze cut into you.

You ignored the thought, leaning over him as you seethed, “I don’t know what you think this is, Harrington, but we are not friends. We'll never be friends. You made my life a living hell, and I will resent you for that for the rest of my life. These rumors painting you in good light makes me loath you even more.”

Steve scoffed at your words, getting up so he stood in front of you. You bit your tongue as he towered over you, breath heavy as he searched your face, your harsh words lingering in the air.

“I didn’t do anything to you,” he whispered, voice low as your heart thundered. You swore he could hear it as he glanced down your body. "I've been nothing but nice to you."

“Liar.” You shook your head, taking a step back as he took one in your direction.

“Okay,” he nodded his head, lips forming a frown. His hand reached up to pull at his hair, rolling his eyes as they closed with a sigh. He opened them, hand moving to rest at his hip. “Tell me then, what did I do that was so bad for you, Yn.”

“You know.”

He shook his head, not taking that answer. He remained silence.

“You know,” your voice cracked, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

He shook his head again, tilting his head as he examined you. His own eyes blinked rapidly, jumping back and forth between the two of yours.

You sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. All of the anger dissipated, sorrow filling your chest instead.

“You let Tommy torment me, you let him say what he did about me and all of his stupid friends,” your voice was fragile, volume moving up and down as your words came out. “You might not have said anything, but that’s the worst part, Steve. You were a bystander during the worst times of my life, and you didn’t. Do. Anything.”

Your finger punched at his chest with every word, emphasizing your point. Steve looked down at the assault of the digit, grabbing it between his fingers at the last word.

His touch burned your skin, a feeling that felt so wrong, but so right at the same time.

“You’re absolutely right,” Steve agreed with you, fingers holding your hand tightly. “I was—I was terrible. I was a jerk, a coward, if you will.”

Your eyes looked up into his at his words, hearing him out.

“I’m not friends with him anymore. I met Nancy all that time ago, and things changed for me,” he continued, thumb rubbing circles over the skin. Your heartbeat quickened, glancing down at his movement. “I met Robin, and things only got better. That perception you have of me is so different. So, so different than me now.”

He left go of your hand, watching as it dropped to your side. Steve was only inches away from you, the left over tobacco scent mixing with the detergent of his clothes.

A single tear streamed down your face, your hand shooting up to wipe it away. His gaze softened, shaking his head at you.

“It appears King Steve has dropped his crown,” he muttered, earning a small laugh out of you. You dropped your head, stepping back as a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

Steve’s laugh followed your own, chuckling low as yours picked up. The two of you stood there laughing at each other, an ache in your side forming as you realized the ridiculous situation you were in.

You both quieted down, staring at each other as the moonlight filled the sky above you. The buzzing of the porch light filled the air.

Steve’s eyes were huge in this lighting, his long lashes curled up towards his brows. The small pout of his lips were wet from his tongue darting out, licking at the skin. Moles dotted his skin, cheeks full as joy crossed his features.

You could see him in this light, for who he truly was. That asshole image may have lingered in the back of your mind, but you could see that he was truthful in his speech.

“I may miss him, you know,” you said, looking at your feet as the words came out. “King Steve.”

You glanced up at him, crossing your arms over your chest. His eyes were dark again, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Oh?” You couldn’t pull the emotion off of his face, a mask placed over it.

You nodded, continuing, “I never got to know him the way most people did.”

Smirking at your words, you turned towards the house and walked up towards the sliding glass door. You didn’t bother looking back at him, opening up the glass as you stepped through muttering a goodnight as you entered the house.

It was dark in there, the only light illuminating was the one hanging over the staircase. The image of the look on Steve’s face burned in your mind, how his dark eyes reflected the moonlight. As you trekked up the stairs on your way to meet Robin, you couldn’t help but think that you took things too far at the end. You’ve hated him all this time, why all of a sudden did you want to mess with his head about the idea of King Steve ?

Reaching the end of the hall, your hand reached for the doorknob, stopping in its place as you heard footsteps running up the stairs, fast in their pace.

Your brow furrowed, turning towards that direction as you watch Steve ascend the stairs, turning the corner to the hall in your direction. He was slightly out of breath, colored in the cheeks.

“You want to?” He blurted out, fast paced with his words. You were confused.

“Huh?”

He was crossing the distance to you, eyes determined on yours. Your hand was still placed on the doorknob, grip loose.

“Harrington, what are you talking ab-”

Your words were cut off as Steve closed the distance, crashing his mouth into yours. His hands came up to rest on the sides of your face as your eyes shot open in surprise at the intrusion. Your hand left the doorknob, resting at his chest to push him away.

“What the hell was that,” you exclaimed, finger digging in his chest. Smiling at you, his hands still present on your cheeks as he tugged at his bottom lip.

He made a shushing motion with his lips, stepping closer to place his mouth on yours again. You didn’t protest, fluttering your eyes shut as his mouth began to move into yours, molding into the perfect shape.

His mouth was soft, tongue darting out to lick between your lips, an urgency as you were pulled into him. One of his hands left your face, finding your waist to press his torso into yours. Huffing, the firmness of his body against yours left you breathless as you leaned up into the kiss.

He pulled away, placing two quick pecks to yours before placing a step back. The absence of his hands on your body left a chill throughout your spine. Eyes glazed over, you blinked at him, tongue running over the feeling of him on your lips.

Steve was smug, hands on his hips as he smiled at you. Your mouth flapped open and close, not finding the words to say to him in that moment. You should be repulsed at him, that was your first thought, but you couldn’t be bothered.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” Your fingers came to brush at your mouth, looking anywhere but him. It was the first time you had been shy around him. You were starting to understand the Harrington Effect.

“You don’t need to,” he rushed, crossing the distance to you one last time to crash his mouth into yours.

He pulled you into him simultaneously pushing you into the wall next to the doors of his parents room. Your body hit it with a full yet loud thud, not caring about waking Robin in the moment.

Your mouth moved in sync with Steve’s, hands coming up to mess up its perfect style and leg curling up to rest at his upper thigh. He moaned into your mouth as his hands gripped your ass, pulling your hips into his.

This is wrong, you found yourself thinking as Steve pulled away to mouth at your neck. He sucked bruises into the delicate skin, fingers digging into your flesh. Your hands roamed free, wildly pulling at his belt his teeth grazed your earlobe.

His bulge ground into the fabric of your jean shorts, leaving you breathless as you fumbled with his buckle.

“S-Steve,” you panted into his hair, arching into his grasp.

You felt the smug fuck smile at your neck, breath sending a chill down your spine. “So needy, baby.”

The nickname had you mewling, panting even further as once of his hands came to help with you the buckle. He freed himself, leather straps hanging at his waist as he unbutton the jeans, pulling the zipper down.

Your hand reached inside, grabbing his heavy cock. You both gasped at the feeling, Steve throwing his head back at the sensation of you tugging at him under his pants. The sounds echoing through the air were filthy—Steve groaning, the wet slickness of your hand on his cock, your dirty words of affirmation flowing out of your mouth.

His hand came to rub at you through your shorts, the thick material making you see stars. Your own head hit the wall, the thud louder than before.

“Shhh baby,” he muttered, pushing them to the side as his fingers brushed over your clothed opening. He smirked at you, low groan escaping his mouth as you were already dripping wet. You huffed, squeezing at the base of his cock in retaliation, feeling the way his hips jutted out.

“C-can’t wake Robin,” he gasped, hips moving rhythmically in sync with your strokes. His head was dripping wet, the inside fabric of his underwear soaking it up.

You felt his fingers prodding at your entrance, the thick jean and thin material of your underwear pushed to the side. They brushed your folds, collecting slick as he applied pressure to the sensitive bud.

“Need you, Steve, fuck,” your face was twisted in pleasure, core throbbing as he continued to tease you. The look on his face let you know he was falling apart at your touch too, brow furrowed as his bottom lip was sucked into his mouth.

He removed himself from you, tucking the exposed part back into his pants. Grabbing your hand, he pulled you down the hall, leading to an open door. He pushed you inside, shutting it behind him as he pushed you down on the bed.

You bounced, half smiling as you rid yourself of your shirt, throwing it across the room. The jeans shorts followed, leaving you exposed in your bra and panties.

Steve stood at the end of the bed, gaze roaming over your figure as that familiar dark look took over his features.

“The things you’re doing to me,” he breathed, crossing his arms at his waist as he pulled his shirt over his head. The sight of his chest, littered with hair at the top, made a rush of heat go straight to your core.

Your eyes followed his hands, watching as they pulled down his jeans, still unbuttoned from the hallway. His boner pushed at the front of his boxers, wet patch present as the material tented.

His eyes followed your eyeline, smirking at you as he saw your legs subconsciously opening wider. Your hand came down to rub between your legs, the panties becoming stickier with each passing moment.

“You want me to show you, baby?” His voice was taunting, leaning over the bed to make his slow crawl over your body. You nodded, eyes big with desire as you felt his heat over you. “Say it.”

“I-I want you t-to show me, Steve,” you moaned, free hand reaching up to grab at his neck. He stopped its movement, hand loose at the wrist as he sucked his teeth.

"Ah ah ah, say it again." His low voice had you falling apart, wetness pooling between your thighs.

"I want you to show me, Steve." Clearer this time, you arched into him spreading your legs so he lay between. He smirked and let go, leaning down to briefly kiss your lips before making his way down your neck.

The urgency you felt in your body contradicted his slow, languid movements. You felt the admiration in his movements, teeth nipping at your skin lightly, his tongue soothing over the marks. He made his way down, kissing over what seemed like every inch of you.

As he spread your legs, he maintained eye contact with you, hair falling into his eyes. His fingers rested at the waistband of your panties, mouth pressing light kisses over your clit. The fabric was thin enough to feel the heat of your breath, and it had you mewling.

"You're so beautiful, Yn," he whispered as he pulled the piece of fabric off of you. Your hand reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes, leaning up on your elbows so you could get sight of him.

His tongue darted out, licking at your clit as you exhaled deeply. Your hips jutted out, trying to feel the full heat of his mouth as his tongue gave you tiny licks, teasing you. Steve's smirk grew, arm resting at your waist to hold you down.

"'M just getting started, my love."

He began to suck at you, tongue dipping in and out of your folds as one of his fingers found your entrance, pushing in. You watched as his eyes fluttered shut, moaning at the taste of you.

It was heaven watching him. Seeing the way his face was pushed into you, fingers moving in and out of you with a fever. They curled inside of you, toying at the bundle of nerves deep in your walls. Clenching around him, your hips began to stutter, the weight of his arm adding a pressure that made your head feel light.

Bliss approached you, slowly then all at once. You swore you blacked out for a moment, vision going white as he licked you through the pleasure. Your breath was fast, chest heaving as that familiar over stimulation worked its way through your thighs.

Steve pulled away, satisfied with your unraveling. He licked the taste of you off of his lips, rising to his knees as he pulled his boxers down. His cock sprung free, dark red at the head as it dripped in desperation.

His hand came to stroke himself, squeezing small drops of precum out of the head.

"Steve," you groaned, hand reaching to grab at him. His hips angled towards your reach, he groaned as you made contact. You gave him short strokes, focusing your attention at the head.

"You wanna give me a little taste, sweetheart?" His sweet words of affirmation had you soaked with anticipation once again, a nod coming in reply. You repositioned yourself, lying on your stomach, propped up on your elbows as you licked at his head.

A low groan escaped him, hand coming to rest at the back of your head. You took him in your mouth, lips stretching over his girth as you opened up for him.

His hand pushed on your head, forcing down some of the length that you felt shy in taking. You sucked at him, looking up at him falling apart with small thrusts of his hips into your mouth. His head was angled to the side, eyes closed as you saw them move behind his lids. His mouth was open, free hand gripping at the roots of his hair.

He looked beautiful in this light, chest glistening as a sheen of sweat covered him. His hand guided your mouth, feeling the suction of your lips over his shaft. The way his hips stuttered into you had you choking, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"M not gonna last, baby," he muttered, removing himself as you looked up at him. Steve glanced down at himself, seeing the way his cock shone with the glistening of your spit.

His eyes rolled, teeth digging into his bottom lip at the sight. You understood the feeling, the both of you being so turned on, it fucking hurt.

"Turn around for me." Rising to your hands and knees, you positioned yourself, arching your back. Blind to his movements, you heard him shuffle behind you, warm hands gripping at your waist that sent a shock to your spine.

His cock nudged at your entrance, a burn coming as he stretched you open. A high moan escaped your lips, hips running from the intrusion. His hands pulled you right back, cock pushing in even further.

"Shh, baby," he whispered, running his hand up your spine to soothe you. "It'll be okay."

You nodded, looking back over your shoulder at him admiring the way you stretched over him. As he pushed in further, the stretch burned even more. The pain was soothed away by the rubbing of his hands and the words of encouragement he gave you.

"'S okay," he muttered, pushing to the hilt. "I'm right here, baby."

Your knuckles were shaking as you gripped the sheets below you. Your eyes fluttered closed, a sigh escaping your lips.

"All right here, baby. I'm not gonna hurt you." His hips reared back before pressing in again, your back arching as pleasure flowed through your body.

"Steve, fuck," you moaned his name, feeling the way he pushed into you over and over, movements slow. He grabbed onto your hips, fucking into you as the sounds of slapping skin echoed through the room.

"You're taking it so good, my love."

His words had you gasping, hips shooting back to meet his movements half way. Seeing the effort you gave him back, his thrusts became faster, fucking into you with a passion.

Steve's words continued praising you, I love to see you falling apart and feels good, baby? and take it, you love my dick so much. You were panting his name, the only word you could focus on.

That pleasure arched up your spine once more, legs shaking with the promise of release. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, falling to the bed as Steve followed you to it. His large stature hung over your body, fucking you through your high.

You couldn't help, but press your face into the mattress, pleasure rippling through you as his movements quickened. You felt him approaching his own high as his words became short, breath raising a pitch.

"F-fuck, Yn," his voice was even an octave higher, face pressing in between your shoulder blades. His thrusts were irregular, slamming into you as the entire bed rocked. "Gon-gonna cum, baby, f-fuck, you did so well."

He released into you, pressing deep as you felt him fill you up. The warmness of his cum made you moan again, the thick liquid threatening to spill out the sides of his cock deep within you.

"Such a good job," he whispered to you before pulling out, collapsing next to you. He lay on his back, hand reaching out to rest at the small of your back.

You turned your head towards him, blinking slow as you took in the mess of the man. His hair was sticking to his face, cheeks red, and wetness around his mouth. He stared back at you, smirk ever present.

"I still hate you, Harrington," you whispered to him, noticing the way your legs felt numb. Sensing the irony in your words, you felt him leak out of you. A grimace crossed your face.

He laughed out loud, winking at you. He leaned to press a kiss to your nose, watching the way it crinkled under his touch.

"I'm sure you do, sweetheart."

You hid your smile in the sheets, rolling your eyes shut. Happiness warmed your body, the lingering effects of your orgasm. A gnawing feeling came to your heart, chest pounding for a different reason. You had fallen for it, the typical Harrington charm. At that moment, you tried not to tell yourself that things may be different, thinking of his words earlier.

He was different than before, however, the thoughts of King Steve still plagued your mind. This couldn't end well, Steve doesn't end well. You opened your eyes, finding him still staring at you.

"You know, I meant what I said, right?" He asked you, seemingly reading your mind. You blinked at him, ready to push that hard exterior forward. "I am different than I was."

Warmth filled your chest, hope bubbling at the surface.

"I don't know if I believe you," you whispered, voice sounding small in the big room. He pressed his lips together, mouth dropping at the corner.

"Let me show you," he replied, hand coming to brush the hair behind your ear. "Let me do that at least."

Hesitation came over you, silence filling the air between you. A few moments passed as he searched your eyes for any sign of emotion. It was like you had an angel and devil on each shoulder, warning you yet jumping for joy at the same time.

You slowly nodded, a sigh escaping your lips. Steve beamed at you, eyes squinting with the smile.

"I swear, Harrington, if you do anything to fuck me over, I will murder you," you shook your head, not believing you'd give him a chance. He leaned over again, pressing another kiss to your lips this time. His smile was contagious, you fought it back.

"Is that a promise?"

masterlist. requests and inbox are open.

[msbigredmachine]

Kitty Kat (Roman Reigns)

After a lifetime of searching, the Tribal Chief may have finally found the woman of his dreams. Post Summerslam 2024.

Warnings: SMUT (yes i know its excessive im sorry 😭)

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: This got way too long bc I talk too much. I tried to shorten it I promise but I just couldn't. I do hope you like it either way...

Song inspiration: Again - Lenny Kravitz

Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs

-------------------

He could get used to this.

As he stepped off the plane, Joe discreetly adjusted the bulge in his pants and exhaled deeply, allowing himself a giddy smile in anticipation for what was to come. 

He couldn’t wait to see her again. His Kitty Kat. The interesting part was that this time, she’d flown him out to come spend the week with her, in First Class, no less. “It’s a five-hour flight from Cleveland to L.A., so I want you to be as comfortable as possible, Daddy,” she’d told him. Never in his wildest dreams did he envision being ‘flewed out’. He’d been the one flying her out in his private jet, chartering luxury vehicles to bring her to him. The reverse felt strange and would take some getting used to, but it did feel nice to be pampered and taken care of for once.

Seated comfortably in the back of the Cadillac Escalade driving him through the City of Angels, he reminisced about last night in Cleveland. It was fun to hear the crowd again, the adrenaline rush of his entrance music blaring all around the Browns Stadium. It was a long absence from wrestling for him, darkened by the passing of his father, followed by the whirlwind preparation and execution of his funeral, grand, exhausting and emotional. Kat being by his side for all of it was a precious elixir he could never repay her for, but perhaps he could start tonight.

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing. It was an unknown number, but against his better judgment, he answered and hoped it wasn’t some weirdo fan. “Hello?”

“You left town without telling me? I saw you all over Summerslam last night!” the shrill, familiar voice responded.

Scratch that. Now he wished it was a fan. “I know I blocked your ass. This is stalking,” was his cold greeting. 

“I just want us to talk, Joe! We can’t just end things the way we did!”

“Ain’t nothin’ to talk about, Ebony. I got the DNA test I wanted. Go find your baby daddy and leave me the fuck alone.”

“Are you ever gonna forgive me? I made a mistake!” Ebony pleaded. “You didn’t even invite me to Sika’s funeral. That hurt my feelings, Joe.”

“Bitch, don’t piss me off!” Joe countered angrily. “Blurting out that I’m not Josiah’s daddy was not a mistake! I also found the messages in your phone, remember? You and your little group chat laughed at me, laughed about me raising a kid that ain't mine!”

“That’s a female ass trait, y’know, lookin’ through my phone and invading my privacy!” Ebony complained.

“You can invade these nuts,” Joe dismissed, “You cheated on me and lied about the paternity of your son! That’s enough for me to wash my hands off of you and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

For a second, Ebony was quiet. Then, “Let me guess. You’re with that uppity rich bitch. She was at your dad’s funeral, both of y'all looked so cozy in the videos. She's the reason you don’t wanna work things out, right? Weren’t you seeing her before we broke up? Who’s the cheater now, huh?”

Joe scoffed in disbelief. After all she’d done to make his life a living hell, she was still gaslighting him. “We were over long before I started seeing her. I only hung around cuz I thought the kid you were carrying was mine. Don’t act like your whorish toxic ways didn’t drive me into her arms in the first place! You broke us up, so I’ve moved on from your evil ass. Simple.”

Ebony kissed her teeth. “You are so disrespectful to me, always have been. You never cared about me. It was all about your fucking wrestling. You were always gone! I was lonely! I needed you and you didn't give a shit!”

“So that’s why you opened your legs for some bum, got knocked up, and lied that I was the father? You disrespected yourself!” He felt himself getting riled up and had to compose himself. He would not let his ex ruin his day. “Imma make this clear so even you can understand. We. Are. Done. Call me again and it’s my attorney you’ll be talking to.” Cutting off the call, he then blocked the number and deleted it for added measure.

Fuck that ho.

Anyway, back to his girl, Kat. It had been an amazing few months so far with her. Of course, he’d googled her in the beginning, asked Heyman to run a background check to make sure she was legit and not a psychopath like his ex. Katrina Sullivan was one of the most famous music producers in the world and the top executive at her renowned publishing label. She was a big time player in her industry just like he was, a star in her own right, and it was a match made in Heaven.

Not only was she incredibly beautiful, but sex with her was a wild ride. She gave him a run for his money whenever they fucked. She was all about new experiences and wasn’t too prissy to fuck inside a car or suck him off outside a dive bar. He blushed every time he remembered the freaky shit they got up to after his loss at Wrestlemania. Long story short, she made him feel much better about dropping the belt. He loved that she loved sex as much as he did, and if he wasn’t hooked on her before, he was completely addicted after that night. 

And it wasn’t all about the physical. There was an emotional bond they shared, a connection that he’d never felt with anyone else before her. Talking with her felt like talking with a friend. He would unload his good days and bad days on her and she would listen to all of it without passing judgment. He did the same for her and was proud to be the one she learned to trust after her own past heartbreaks. Joe wished he’d had the courage to leave Ebony earlier. Perhaps he would have found the woman who had become his peace, his safe haven, and closed the hole in his heart much, much sooner.

A Google Map search helped him find the best florist in town. The ladies in the shop ooh'ed and ahh'ed over the beautiful bouquet of roses he bought and how lucky his lady was. But he thought he was the lucky one. As he took a deep breath and inhaled the flowers, he felt his stomach flutter at the thought of her beautiful face, her smile, her warm embrace. Joe knew he was in love, but he didn’t quite know how to tell her yet. It was weird enough that he lowkey felt like a thot being flown out. He really didn’t mind, though. All he wanted was to be with her and just be in her presence, in her aura. He would tell her when he was ready.

-----------------

Kat’s mansion was the stuff of dreams. Isolated on the hills of the Pacific Palisades overlooking lush Californian greenery, it was one of her rewards as the most in-demand producer in music today. The living room segued into the kitchen, which welcomed him with the smell of freshly cooked food. Pasted to her stainless steel refrigerator by a small circular ‘Acknowledge Me’ magnet, was a note from her saying that she’d just headed out for a last-minute meeting and directed him to the oven where a warm skillet of sirloin steak and seasoned roasted potatoes waited for him. She had also stocked her fridge with his Megafit meals along with C4 Energy drinks and a few bottles of her own branded tequila. His baby was spoiling him rotten and he was digging it.

He first put the fresh flowers in a vase he filled with water before settling down to eat. He wished she was here with him, but he understood more than anyone how busy things could be when you were at the top of your game. He was proud of her and wanted her to get all the coins she deserved. Halfway through his meal, he pulled out his phone and checked on her.

After dinner, he embarked on a little tour around her breathtaking abode which ended up taking several minutes to complete. Joe had some nice homes of his own around the globe, but this floored them all. The edifice dripped with luxury and was crafted to perfection, just like his Kitty Kat was. He enjoyed the gorgeous city view from her balcony as he sipped on some tequila. Her bathroom was spacious and had a waterfall shower that he luxuriated in when he stepped inside. One side of her walk-in wardrobe was lined with an assortment of brand new t-shirts, pants and dress shirts all for him. Of course she knew his size; she’d ripped his clothing off of him on many occasions. His stomach was doing flips as the time continued to tick by. It was hilarious that the big bad Tribal Chief was acting all giddy at the mere thought of a woman, but here he was, entangled in her expensive satin sheets, counting down the minutes until she was back in his arms.

----------------

The sound of running water jerked him awake. The plane ride must have worn him out more than he thought; he didn’t even realize when he fell asleep. The sky outside was now pitch black but the bathroom lights were switched on. As he sat upright in the bed, something rolled down his bare chest and onto his lap. He looked down and his breath hitched. A sheer, baby pink-colored thong, just removed. Unable to resist, he held it up to his nose and shivered as her sensual aroma filled his nostrils and sent all his blood rushing south. With newfound enthusiasm, he climbed out of the bed and padded over to the bathroom. 

Katrina’s back was turned to him, standing over the tub as she drained the bath. Draped in a fluffy lilac bathrobe that barely covered her backside as she bent over, Joe chose to stand there and admire her, letting his eyes follow the rivulets of water that trickled down her long shapely legs. He trailed his gaze along the backs of her knees and her oh-so-sexy thighs, stopping at her luscious derrière where he found her pussy lips, slick and glistening, winking at him. He groaned out loud at the sight, feeling his bulge stir in his drawstring shorts.

Alerted by the noise he made, Kat spun around and sighed. "Oh, damn," she frowned and bounced her fist against her thigh.

Joe raised an eyebrow at her reaction. “Did I frighten you?”

“Not really. I wanted to wake you up by sucking your dick.” 

Chuckling heartily, he stepped closer. "You still can, baby. Don’t let me stop you,” he said, sealing their lips together in a kiss he’d been thinking about for weeks. He held her tight, molding their bodies together as time seemed to stop all around them. The anticipation had been building all day and just this moment alone was worth the long wait.  

Joe sighed happily against her lips, his fingers massaging the back of her neck. “Mmm, I can tell you missed me. Did you miss me, baby?”

“You know I did, Daddy,” she whispered back. It had been months in the making, but Kat was thrilled that he was finally here in her humble abode. She pulled back to regard him, marveling at the sheer height and width of him, his bare, broad chest showcasing that beautiful tattoo and all those muscles. Fuck, he was so hot. “I saw the roses in the kitchen, they’re beautiful,” she said.

“Not as beautiful as you are, baby,” Joe answered, brushing his thumb along her bottom lip. “How was your meeting?”

Kat huffed and rolled her eyes. “Waste of my time. Don’t really wanna talk about it,” she added, changing the topic to a more exciting one. “You looked so good last night, babe. I could see how happy you were to be back.”

“I was,” he admitted, his light brown eyes lighting up. “Bro, hearing the fans go bananas when my music hit was insane. And all those fingers in the air, too. Four years of bustin' my ass finally paying off.”

“Huh. I had one finger out too, but it wasn’t in the air, and I was layin’ in bed. Naked,” Kat teased, fluttering her long eyelashes at him.

The thought of her writhing around in bed aroused by his show of violence caused another tightening in his shorts. With a growl in his voice, he responded, "Show me." 

“Wait.” She put up one hand before he could grab her. “Before we get started…I never got to ask you because we were so busy with the funeral…But did you take the DNA test?” she asked, watching with dismay as his face fell. He looked away with a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, something she learned he did when he was reeling in his emotions. 

“Yeah. Josiah’s not mine,” he replied sadly.

Two distinct emotions of her own rushed through Kat at this news. Relief, that he was no longer tied to Ebony and he could now, finally, move on with his life. Move on with her. Disappointment, on his behalf, knowing that he had enjoyed getting to know the baby boy he’d thought was his child. “I’m so sorry,” was all she could muster.

“Don’t be. At least I know the truth now. I care about the kid, but he’s not my responsibility any more,” he choked out, the sting of losing that sweet little boy still raw and painful.

“Oh, baby.” Kat rubbed her hands up and down his broad back to soothe him. She regretted downing the mood and sought to fix it. “What can I do?” 

Joe shook his head and sank into her embrace. “Just be with me, like this. I wanna be with you. Thank you for bringing me out here, it’s exactly what I needed.”

“Of course. You know I gotchu,” she assured him, butterflies sprouting inside her belly as he dropped feather-light kisses on her neck, trailing along her shoulder which was soon bare as he slipped off her robe and dropped it to the floor. She tugged down his shorts and her hungry gaze zeroed in on that other part of him that she missed. All those FaceTime calls and selfies did very little justice to the real thing. This was his first time on her turf, and she was determined to use this week wisely, especially as this extended period didn’t quite exist before. 

In the beginning, their meetings were brief and eventful, a couple of hours’ escape from the madness going on in their individual lives. Meet up, scorch the sheets, and wake to the sound of the rustle of clothes pulled from the floor, the sharp zipping of bags, quick kisses goodbye followed by the front door quietly clicking open and shut. At each other’s mercy at sunset then disappearing before dawn to resume reality. It was a thrill at first but as time passed, Kat realized she wanted more with him. She wanted to begin and end her days in his sturdy arms. Wanted them to shower together, to eat together and spend much more time together. Simply put, she wanted to be a real couple, and she was ecstatic when he confessed that he wanted the same. Coming to L.A. was a great start and it excited Kat to no end.

Hand in hand, they walked together, naked, out of the bathroom. She giggled as he followed closely behind her, kissing her neck and touching her body along the way. As they reached the bed, Joe noticed the bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket full of ice on the nightstand. Kat read his mind. “Just a lil’ sumn to celebrate your arrival,” she clarified, as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her to stand between his legs. His gaze was soft, yet beautifully intense as he ran his hands up her thighs and her hips, cupping her backside and bringing her even closer to him. He pressed his lips to her stomach, adorning her belly with gentle, open-mouthed kisses that felt so good she moaned pleasurably in approval.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered against her brown skin, his voice clear yet filled with a vulnerability he’d never felt before.

Kat smiled down at him. “Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“For real?” His heart pounding so hard in his chest he was sure she could hear it.

Her smile widened as she loosened his ponytail, letting the long dark locks fall and frame his breathtaking features like the angel he was. Her angel. “Yeah. I mean…After everything we’ve shared, after getting to know the beautiful person that you are, of course I’m in love with you too.”

They were words he’d been hoping to hear from her for a while now, and now that he had, he was robbed of every sensation other than joy and peace and the burning need to make love to her nonstop for the rest of his stay in the West Coast. “You’re beautiful too, baby girl,” he rasped, drawing her back in, “So fuckin’ beautiful…”

They clung to each other, making out with increasing passion, both of them extremely aroused and more desperate than ever in the wake of this wonderful revelation. As they kissed, he slipped one hand over her breast, kneading gently, eliciting from her those purring sounds that earned her sexy little nickname. He missed his Kitty Kat so much. The last time they were together was at his father’s funeral, and he couldn't be with her the way he wanted to be. Now that they were all alone there was nothing stopping him from having his way with her.

But apparently, she had other plans. 

She pushed him hard in the chest, smirking at his surprised grunt as he hit the mattress rather unceremoniously. “Get in,” she instructed him.

He frowned petulantly at her, but did as he was told, dragging himself backwards up the bed with his eyes on her at all times. He felt his mouth go dry as she crawled towards him on all fours like the sexy ass kitten she was. As she reached the space between his open legs, she surprised him by picking up her thong and winding it around his wrists, securing it tight before pushing his arms over his head. 

“Baby…” he pouted.

“Shhhh,” Kat shushed him quietly, thrilled by the submission in his eyes, the surrender in his soft moan, his dick hard and erect in anticipation. Having control over a man like him felt so empowering. Though sexually submissive to him, Kat always enjoyed it when the roles were switched. It never lasted long though, so she planned to make the most of it.

Climbing back down his body, she rubbed her hands on the expanse of his thighs, his caramel skin warm beneath her fingers. She moved higher, coming dangerously close to the pleasure between his legs but avoiding it, for now. She wanted to touch it but the wait was more exciting. Her hands disappeared to squeeze his ass cheeks, and then reappeared over his hips, traveling along the sharpened ridges of his six-pack abs and up to his broad chest. Her body followed suit, sliding up until her thighs bracketed his sides. The little hiss that escaped him as she sat on his torso thrilled her; she knew right away that he could feel her warm moistness against his skin. Her fingers found his nipples next, toying with them before leaning in to lick them, and giggled with amusement when his dick sprang high enough to smack against her backside.

“Fuck, baby, feel what you do to me?” Joe hissed, his cock jumping again as her mouth warmed his neck, nibbling on the shell of his ear as she whispered to him in the softest, deadliest timbre: 

"I’m just getting started, big guy."

Sitting upright on top of him, she reached for the ice bucket, scooping out an ice cube in the shape of an exquisite diamond. The ravenous look in Joe’s eyes matched hers as she sipped on the cube, letting the cold melt on her tongue and travel down her throat. Then, she bent down and kissed him, her cold tongue quickly warming up from the heat of his mouth. The wet muscles moved together in a sweet dance, delightedly intertwining, obsessed with the taste of each other. Kat pressed the ice cube to his chest, giggling when he jerked from the cold, and drew figure eights with it, watching rivulets of water trickle down the sides of his body. She put the ice cube on his right nipple and watched it harden. Then she replaced the ice with her warm mouth on his cold nipple.

“Shit, baby you killin’ me,” he moaned, looking on with hooded eyelids as she kissed down his body. She stopped between his legs, bowing her body in front of his erection, long and thick and hard, precum glistening on his slit. Her tongue darted out to taste it, licking her lips with pleasure. Giving him a sly wink, she took the tip of his dick in her mouth and sucked, winding her tongue around the head like a hungry snake. The moan that escaped his lips was needy and borderline painful, causing her eyes to light up in triumph. 

“When I get my hands on you…” he growled, his expression almost pissed, but Kat knew better. His frustration mingled with his lack of control, control she’d taken from him all day by calling the shots from his travel to the food he ate. The sensual power play continued as she massaged his dick, the thick velvety flesh twitching in her hands as his hands twitched in his makeshift binds. Using the flat of her tongue, she licked up and down his shaft, making slurping sounds that were drowned out by his groans as she spread her saliva all over his dick. She was addicted. He tasted so good and she craved to have her fill.

Putting a smaller ice cube in her mouth, she chewed it, crushing the ice with her teeth. From there, she hugged his dick with her lips, dousing the heat of his flesh with the coldness of her throat. Tiny bits of ice melted against his shaft as she sucked and tongued every inch of him. She could feel his chest heaving and his abs crunching, could hear his strangled moans as he got warmer and got harder in her mouth. He was right where she wanted him. Resting her weight on his burly thighs, she moaned to him to let go, and smiled when seconds later a shout burst from him, his hips arching off the bed as he unloaded down her throat. She drank her fill of him, glancing up to watch the pleasure ravage his huge body, giving a little smile as he floated down back to earth. 

“Oh my god…” he breathed, his body jerking when she pulled away, letting his dick, slick with her spit and his cum, plop down on his thigh. With one more long, soft kiss to his length, she slithered back up his body, pressing her lips to his for a sweet, delicate kiss which heavily contrasted with the heaviness of his dick brushing along her now-wet opening. Pleasing him turned her on in a way her notoriously composed self could never comprehend.

“You came so hard for me, baby. The look on your face was everything,” Kat gifted him a teasing lash of her tongue against his as she ran her hands up his arms to toy with the sheer material holding him hostage. Lifting her body up, she slowly sank down on his dick, a gasp slipping from her when the smooth tip pierced through her soft, slick folds, enabling her to wind her hips to take him all the way in. They both moaned as the thickness of him nudged her sweet spot, coaxing a whine out of her as she wrapped her arms around his neck, wanting him close, making out with him while slowly rocking her body back and forth, grinding her clit on him. It stunned her to this day, how she was able to take him all, his length and girth filling her and hitting her most sensitive spot right away. The power that coursed through her at making him succumb to her will, no different from any pinning combination or submission move, was intoxicating. Her moans and his groans reverberated through the bedroom, the air thick with the scent of sex as she loved on him.

“Untie me. Now,” Joe commanded out of nowhere, the roughness of his tone surprising Kat. One look at the power and pleasure on his beautiful face told her he was not taking no for an answer. Obediently, she  reached up and unraveled the underwear from around his wrists, and she had barely tossed it aside when his hands came around her, finding her backside and thrusting deeper into her. Finally, he could touch her the way he wanted. He loved her ass, enjoyed the feel of it gyrating against his palms. He landed a heavy-handed slap on it, making her burrow her face in his neck with a soft cry, the sound growing more desperate as his fingers caressed the supple flesh of her ass while grinding up into her, making her feel so good.

“Such a badass bitch, yet so weak for me. Weak for this dick,” he purred to her with a kiss to her shoulder. The wicked gleam in his eyes had Kat both frustrated and aroused, but the unmistakable glimpse of lust clouding those eyes showed he was just as weak for her. With every downward motion of her hips, she could see him become more mesmerized, his breaths huskier, his face contorting with unbridled bliss as her pussy squeezed his length in deep, throbbing pulls. Sensing him trying to regain control, she beat him to it, pushing up and steadying herself on top of him. With both hands planted on his strong chest, she adjusted her legs in a squat and began bouncing on his dick, up and down, fucking him, taking from him what she wanted, giving him what he needed. 

“Fuck, that’s it, kitten, ride the shit outta my dick,” Joe groaned, his huge hands now clamped around her waist. “I’m here now, baby. I gotchu. Take it out on me, take all that stress out on me.” It was a wonder to watch her, her knees up and wide apart, treating him to the sight of her moist flesh gliding all the way down his turgid flesh and back up, leaving the base of his dick a wet, slippery mess. It looked incredible and felt even better. “You so wet for me, baby girl,” he rasped, reaching up to massage her bouncing breasts. “I love it when you use me. You love using Daddy’s big dick, huh?”

"Yes, Daddy I love it...Shiiit, oh my goddd!" Kat threw her head back, her moans shaky, her body trembling on top of him as waves of ecstasy washed over her thanks to the orgasm wracking her from head to toe.  

“Unnhh yeah, come for Daddy, come on my dick,” he moaned back to her, his full lips parted and panting, his eyes boring into hers as he watched her come undone. Overcome with passion, he sat upright and tugged her flush against him, his breath hitching as the action sank him even deeper into her. He needed to hold her to him, needed to make her all his. “I ain’t pullin’ out,” he announced, moving her on him again, “I'ma come all up inside you, baby.”

His words sank in, but any coherent answer she had disappeared with another rake of his dick against her g-spot. Wordlessly, Kat snuggled into his warm embrace, locking her arms and legs around him as she continued to grind on him in a deliciously erotic rhythm. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Joe planted a big kiss upon her throat, her jaw, then her lips, enjoying the taste of her moans as his hips rolled along with hers like a choreographed dance. Emotions were high as they joined as one, surrounded by the sounds of the newfound love they were finally expressing to each other. The mattress bounced beneath them, the legless bed rocking in tune with their heated bodies rocking on top of it. Every worry they had was gone and replaced with a hunger and need for the other that they both knew they would never be able to satiate.

"I love you," Joe whispered, pushing her hair out of her eyes to gaze into them.

“I love you too, baby...oh fuck,” Kat panted, burying her face in his shoulder, her hands sliding down to grip his ass as she bucked her hips like a mad woman. Joe moved with her, not missing a single beat. His own release was building fast within him, too fast. The blood was pounding in his head and tightening his balls as her pussy squeezed his cock so tight he was having a hard time catching his breath. They soon realized they were climaxing together, both shaking from the intense, throbbing waves of pleasure. Kat’s toes curled into the sheets as she felt his warm fluid gushing into her pussy just like he wanted, felt his body pulse as hard as his dick pulsing deep inside of her. No piece of music, no music video she created could ever compare to the magic she made with this incredible man, ever be as beautiful as the sight of his face scrunching up helplessly as his orgasm consumed him. So she kept her eyes on him for as long as she could, watching all the emotions sweep his gorgeous visage like an unforgettable movie. 

An eternity later, their movements slowed, their breathing calmed, their hearts racing as one as the world returned to normal. Joe felt light as air as he fell back onto the bed, Kat melting into him with her head on his chest, where his heart beat for her. He was still inside her and she kept him there, wanted to be filled with all his love in the very best way.

“Welcome home, my love,” she giggled, soothed by his own throaty chuckle vibrating against her skin. Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips pressed her forehead. She wished she could bottle the sound of his laugh, the feeling of his soft lips, bottle this very moment forever.

“Glad to be home, my love,” he answered, his fingers caressing her back as he kissed her mouth. “I can tell my time in L.A. is gonna be fun.”

"Mm-hmm. We got all week, Daddy," Kat eyed him with a sly smile, tracing her manicured index finger along his tattooed pectoral, "Like I said, we're just getting started."

THE END.

--------------

A/N: This is the only story I've had the energy to complete. I'd love to know your thoughts!

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[klttn]

ellie with da bunny!reader requests once again !!!! could u do an alastor x bunny!reader where they were married in life, and alastor always called her a little rabbit, and now that thwyre in hell... he finds it soo amusing that shes a bunny demon :3c

an : bunny reader gives me life,, domestic alastor is just so dreamy nd cute n i love our big loser deer man

— 𝜗𝜚 alastor x female reader sfw. marriage. domesticated alastor. blood. gore. stabbing. alastor was a big scary serial killer.

domestic life with alastor was your favourite thing in the world, you didn’t need anything as long as he was by your side. and that reigned true from the shitty expanse of the earth where you and he made yourself a home to the dark depths of hell where you found peace with him in all the chaos.

up on earth, alastor always called you his ‘little rabbit’, so small and fragile, he thought it fit very well. especially considering how you met.

you met in a forest, with muddy feet and hair awry, tears streaming down your soft cheeks and alastor in front of you with a knife to mans throat. how romantic?

it was the 1930’s. alastor, the dexter-like serial killer he was, was saving your life. the fightening scene before you having you paralysed, gawking in horror as he slashed a mans throat. you knew you should’ve run, should’ve screamed, should’ve done something, anything. but you didn’t. alastors eerie smile plastered on his face as he looked at you, letting his strained voice resonate through the trees. “run rabbit, run rabbit, run-“ stab. “run-“ stab. “run-“ stab. reiterating all the words with a fatal prod to the man’s throat.

such a scary song when sung to you like that.

you stepped back, hands over your mouth, your feet moving without thinking, backing up, going further into the trees, too afraid to take your eyes away from what was in front of you. your head a mess with a frenzy of worrying thoughts going wild. so loud you didn’t notice a branch in the path, tripping and falling into a dizzying state. the white dress the man had put you in browning from the soil as you collided with the dirt, a soft sob slipping past your lips. the first noise you’d made since alastor arrived.

your vision blurred with the pounding of your head and time became subjective. you didn’t know if it had been a few minutes or thirty. barely able to keep your eyes open when you were brought out of it by the faint sound of footsteps moving toward you.

“my, my. what a clumsy little rabbit,” alastor muttered, bringing his face into your line of site. waiting with a soft smile for you to come to and look at him. “hey, little one, no, stay with me, no blacking out on me, sweetheart.” his fingers coming up to click in front of your face in attempt to ground you. his calm demeanour doing everything to contradict his blood splashed slacks and white shirt. he looked vicious. a soft sheen of sweat on his forehead and all the veins in his forearms bulging from his brutal attack.

your eyes unglazed ever so slightly, piecing your vision back together looking down as your voice broke, whispering, not daring to look at the man in front of you. “a- are you going to kill me too?” it came out weak and hopeless, exactly how you felt.

alastor dropped his smile, faltering before fully kneeling down to your height in attempt to seem less frightening. “heavens no, little rabbit,” his features now switching to that infamous grin he still wears to this day. “im here to save you. to protect you from that monster. he should’ve thought twice before attempting such filthy things on a pretty girl like you.”

you looked up to him with big doe eyes, brimmed with unshed tears that threatened to spill with the ones already dried out on your doughy cheeks. “i’m so- i’m- i’m sorry, i- i should’ve helped more, should’ve ran.”

a look of hurt, from your words, shone in alastors eyes before returning to his stoic mask, “don’t worry about that,” he promised then paused, choosing his next words very carefully for your vulnerable state. “can i touch you?” he elongated both his arms inches away from you but gentle as not to make contact. “i need to make sure youre not hurt, little one.” another pause, his eyes searching your own. “please?” you pulled the flesh of your bottom lip between your teeth before nodding subtly, anticipating his touch.

alastors hands lowered to you slowly, carefully skimming over your face, fingers tracing your features as he looked for any cuts or bruises. he trailed down, letting his featherlight touch move your malleable body to inspect every inch of you, only stopping briefly before coming to your knees. his thumbs rubbing soft lines over the bloodied joints that were no doubt from the impact of being forced to kneel and your fall. but alastor didn’t want to think about that.

“may i take you somewhere? my home, more specifically, to tend to these cuts? i wont hurt you anymore than i have to, i promise, little rabbit.”

it was hard to focus with his fingers still brushing over your knees, “o-okay.”

surprise filled your eyes as alastors hands shifted, hooking his arms under you and scooping you up into his embrace. you wrapped your limbs around him in return, immediately feeling a wave of safety in his arms. “i need to make sure youre out of harms way before i take care of this body, i can’t leave a little thing like you out here with dangerous men lingering.” he said it so casually like he wasn’t talking about disposing of a body. but your thoughts only lingered on the part of him prioritising your safety. “im already dangerous enough for you.”

a thought ran past your head, a pang of irrational jealousy bubbling up your throat, “do- do you take everyone you save back to your home?”

alastor sighed, taking his gaze elsewhere, to the moon in the distance as he played with the tattered dress scrunched up on your plushy thighs. “no,” he mumbled, “they usually run from me. i’ll follow them until i know they’re safe but my intent is never to scare them more.” he returned to look at you again, “why haven’t you ran from me? you may be hurt but you’re still capable of running and i am a man with a knife who you’ve just seen kill whilst smiling with no remorse. makes me question if im the sane one between the three of us.” he gestured his head back to the dead body behind him. hearty smile easing you even more from the corner of your eye.

“i don’t know-“ you whisper and he looks at you in a way that makes you feel like you hung the stars. his hands now under your dress to the tops of your thighs to rub circles in attempt to calm your nerves, lulling you into a sense of comfort for the first time tonight.

“sweetheart, try and get some sleep, can you do that for me? i’ve got you, you’re safe and i can see you fighting so hard to keep those pretty eyes open, i promise you’ll be okay.” you stammered a soft ‘okay’ past your lips as the dizziness from finally moving started taking over you, involuntarily nuzzling into his neck from the fleeting adrenaline. “besides,” he whispered directly into your ear, pressing an uncharacteristically tender kiss to your temple.“you need all the rest before we get there. my ma is going to love you, little rabbit. she’s always wanted me to bring a girl home.” you didn’t even register his words as the world became dark with your head on his shoulder.

“and i think ive found the prettiest one,” he whispered once he saw your breaths go from being heavy to a minimal rise and fall. your first encounter with him becoming one you’ll never forget.

now to your arrival in hell. the unexpected meeting where a man and his wife were reunited years and years after parting before being inseparable in their past lives.

alastor always thought you ended up in heaven so imagine his surprise, long after his death when you stumbled to his feet in hell, looking just how he left you. but now with soft bunny ears that mingled with your hair, cute little cotton tail above your ass and a nose twitching so nervously with those big, wide eyes staring up at him like you did all those years ago in that forest. a chuckle slipping out from alastor beyond the shock, “so you really are meant to be my little rabbit forever, aren’t you, my pretty bunny?”

a soft huff and a pouty expression crept onto your face, “been your bunny since you saved me in those woods and you know it.”

alastors finger rested under your chin, lolling your head back to look up at him. “precisely, now come here and give your husband a kiss, its been far too long without you,” and so you did, spending the rest of your life in hell sounded perfect if it was with the love of your life, the man that saved you, your, now, radio demon.

[hatsukeii]

boxers / timeskip!miya atsumu x reader

genre(s) - slice of life??? friends with endless romantic/sexual tension between them, mutually oblivious pining up until the end, atsumu being a little BITCH :/, reader is so hot btw im saying it now you guys are so hot, hotter than the little BITCH atsumu (ngl i do fw his ass tho...)

warning(s) - suggestive but not nsfw!! atsumu being FUCKING ANNOYING, tiger balm if you get it you get it, and like crude humour which is just my branding atp sooo

wc: 1039

tldr; if you're going to make atsumu fulfil your fashion dreams, you should at least look good, which shouldn't be a problem if the only person judging is atsumu himself.

author's note 1: a man who yearns is a man who earns ;) and sometimes a girl just wants to write yearning men to escape from finals so

"'Tsumu, how does it look?"

You reveal your completely renewed, upgraded, rejuvenated outfit, with Atsumu's boxers peeking through the top of your jeans loosely. Perfect, down to the minute details. Once again, you had graced Atsumu's apartment in the middle of the night, for some redundant reason. Last time, it was to take his carton of eggs. This time, it was to borrow a pair of his boxers, of all things.

"It looks cool. Are we done now?" It looks better than cool, much more than cool encompasses. His favourite pair of boxers (definitely a coincidence) sits lopsided across your waist, your jeans holding them in place. The tie sits around your neck, trailing down your torso atop the half-buttoned, collared shirt. You look much better than cool. You look hot, and that is a problem. So much of a problem that Atsumu is resisting the urge to run up and press both hands against your waist, even tug at the waistband of his boxers. You know, just to adjust them. Like best friends do.

You shake your head boldly, contemplating whether you should drop the idea. But alas, you've come this far, even managing to secure a pair of his boxers. It's all or nothing for your fashion discovery now. You stare back at Atsumu, eyeing him up and down as your heart pounds and you consider your next words very carefully. A confused look greets his face, the same one he's made ever since he was in high school. The look that he makes at you when you offer to visit him and rub tiger balm into his shoulders in the middle of the night, or agree to go to all his volleyball games every single time, no matter the day.

"Can you kiss the collar?"

And that just about does it for Atsumu's fragile constraint. His face flushes instantaneously, a hand shooting up to rub across his mouth, before travelling behind his neck to massage it. You wait for a response, your clasped hands becoming clammier with every stagnant second that passes. A stick of red lip stain sits in your back pocket, all you need now is his green light. The air of his living room becomes a pool of slick oil, impossibly heavy, suffocating.

"Yeah, sure."

Your mind blanks. He was not supposed to say yes. You wanted him to, yes, that did not mean that he should have. However, it is too late to regret your proposition now, as you pull the lip stain from your back pocket and approach him on the couch. He winces at the colour, and your hand reaches to cradle his face, angling it just enough to apply the red all over his lips.

"So glamorous, Atsumu, you should be thanking me."

"Shut up, annoying," you manage to scarcely make out from his attempt to speak without moving his lips. He means that out of love, considering he used to call you annoying for actually showing up to his house to massage his shoulders after each match, nagging at you to get rest and leave his soreness be. All out of love between best friends, you're sure of it.

You let go, giving him free reign of your shirt. He looks up at you, pointing at the pointed collar, and you nod in approval. Risque, exactly what you intend to emulate. Shaking, he grabs ahold of your shirt, pressing a firm kiss into the fabric. You smell of the perfume he bought you in celebration of MSBY's first win. Oakwood, orange peel, vanilla. Of course, it was just returning your favour of offering to visit him in the middle of the night, and massage tiger balm into his shoulder blades for two hours.

He pulls away, taking a look at the shirt. Judging by your peculiar choices of a tie, boxers, and a half-buttoned shirt, this is far from risque enough for your liking. He tugs at your top again, peppering kisses across the hem, and you swear you are ready to drop dead right then and there. Not that he's never kissed you before, eight years of friendship does lead to his occasional kisses on your cheek at parties when the two of you would end up drunk off shitty mixers, or your affectionate kisses at the top of his head after match losses as he sits against changing room lockers. All a part of being best friends with Atsumu Miya. Yet as he continues his assault on your shirt, hands grabbing at the fabric tightly and hair tickling the skin of your neck, for the briefest of moments, you wish that he would bring the kisses up instead of across. Fleeting thoughts, pay no mind.

He stops, looking up at you. The lipstick is smudged across one side of his cheek now, and it takes everything in you not to grab his face, and kiss it off of him. His eyes flicker from your face, to your collar.

"Is this enough?" More than enough. You grab his face anyways, rubbing your thumb across the right side of his cheek with a click of your tongue. What a pity that your lipstick isn't ending up on you instead.

"You know, you look really good right now." You babble out before you can catch yourself, and Atsumu's eyes return to your face, boring holes into your eyes. You release his face, a knot forming in your throat as you register your sudden confession. Atsumu breathes out a chuckle, glancing and tugging at your collar.

"I did a pretty good job too, it's a shame I want it off."

He returns to your face, colour matching his red boxers, and your maroon tie, and finally fulfils your wishes as he brings his kisses upwards to your mouth. The remaining lipstick smudges around your lips as you hold his face, body positioned between his legs and your knee pressing onto the sofa. His arms fall back to prop his body up on the couch, surrending all control to your will. You pull away from him, and he almost sulks at the separation. God, he looks so fucking pathetic, staring up at you as if you're the subject of his waking dreams. He should definitely keep this going.

"Stay over tonight? Please?" He mumbles, nestling his face into your palm the way a cat does to its owner.

"Yeah...yeah, I'd like that."

author's note 2:

head empty, no thoughts, just mike faist in challengers, kissed collar shirts, and yearning men. Sometimes a girl just needs to listen to some 5sos and write about looking pretty in someone's boxers and lipstick stains :) Last happy fic I'll write for now, we're going back to giant bittersweet fics next time, might need to try some other characters from diff animes though...

also! this is a total change of style in how i usually write, i wasn't feeling particularly inspired, just wanted to rot and write to kill time, hopefully it's not too bad because it's definitely not my best work imo mmmmm :/

anyways tags!!

@starlysama @chuuya-brainrot @bailey-reeds @fiannee

ok im gonna go now love u bye bye kids

[loveinhawkins]

for the one word ficlet prompt thing!!

I'd love to see something steddie with the word "sun". not picky about how you use it and im good with whatever season you'd like! 💕🌻💘☀️

pre season 3 crossing paths in high school, my beloved ☀️💕 ao3

There’s a blind spot just on the outskirts of the school grounds, before you get to the woods: a little hill that if you sit at just the right angle, back pressed up against the grass, no-one can see you. Eddie goes there whenever he needs some peace—like now, reading alone during lunch. He can still hear the distant laughter of students floating along on the breeze, but it’s far enough away that it doesn’t intrude as he reads.

The air smells like summer’s approaching. His fingers skim through drying blades of grass; they feel almost as delicate as pressed flowers.

Despite the calm solitude, the words aren’t going in—and he knows that with the right teacher, he kinda gets Tennessee Williams, but Mr Hauser’s gone, and he was the only one who allowed Eddie free reign to go wild when reading aloud in class, every other sub since then would say he was being disruptive and… okay, that was true some of the time, but most of the time it was because it helped, damn it, gave him at least some hope of scraping a pass—

A shadow falls across Eddie’s page—it doesn’t loom in the way a teacher’s stance would, but he still jumps at the suddenness of it.

“Jesus!”

Eddie tips his head back against the hill, cranes his neck to look upside down. Squints against the sun.

It’s Steve Harrington, and he must have gym straight after lunch because he’s already changed into a T-shirt and shorts, which is an odd decision in Eddie’s opinion as a perpetual gym-ditcher, but whatever, it’s a free country… and it’s not exactly like the guy’s an eyesore.

”You trying to give me a heart attack, Harrington?”

“No,” Steve says shortly; he looks a mixture of embarrassed and… annoyed? Which would be a new personal best for Eddie, considering he’s done nothing to piss him off save for just sitting on the ground. “I didn’t know you were here, dude.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda the idea,” Eddie waves his hands in explanation, “welcome to my hiding spot.”

Steve scoffs. “Not much of a hiding spot if I found it.”

It comes out a little petty, sure, but nothing major, Eddie thinks; it’s not like Steve’s picking a fight.

“What’s up with you, man?” he asks lightly.

It’s something he’s pondered more than once over the last couple of years, in between the stress of failed tests and the same platitudes in school reports: Eddie must apply himself next year; Eddie must try harder; Eddie must…

In the background of it all was the enigma that was Steve Harrington. Eddie had found that you couldn’t not look at him, his eyes drawn to even the most fleeting impressions: walking past the lockers or driving in and out of the school parking lot. Seasons changed—whole damn years changed—and still the question remained: just what on earth is up with Steve Harrington these days?

At least now, asking the question is profoundly less upsetting than it had been last fall, when Eddie silently tracked the progression of bruises healing across Steve’s face—along with Billy Hargrove’s intimidating stare.

“Nothing, I’m just…” Steve sighs. “Didn’t wanna spend forever in the cafeteria when it’s so nice out, but… Honestly?”

“Nah, I’d prefer you lie to me,” Eddie says deadpan, and Steve snorts before sighing again; Eddie almost asks him to read some Tennessee Williams out loud, ‘cause he’s surprisingly got the dramatics for it.

Steve flops down onto the grass, lies right on his back with no concern for his precious hair. “I’m so damn bored, Munson.”

“Gosh, my heart bleeds,” Eddie says. “Puh-lease tell me how hard it is to have passed everything and literally not have a care in the world?”

Steve blinks up at him, frowning. “Shit, are you repeating again?”

He sounds earnest, and there’s something in his phrasing that means Eddie isn’t nearly as defensive as normal—maybe because it’s about repeating again rather than failing.

Eddie lifts up the script in demonstration. “Not exactly reading this for fun, dude.”

“God, I’d take that over gym right now.”

“Okay, you’re bullshitting me. You love gym, Harrington. You, like,” Eddie gestures at Steve’s get-up, “actually make an effort and everything.”

“Not when the semester’s almost over, man. We don’t even have a cover right now, so we’re just left to, like, do whatever, who gives a shit. I’m bored outta my mind.”

“Tragic,” Eddie says—gym without a teacher sounds like a dream; he’d literally just leave. “I’m weeping for you.”

Steve rolls his eyes. But it doesn’t feel like a dismissal, even when he doesn’t reply and just lies back in the grass with another sigh.

So… Eddie mulls it over. What the hell, Steve’s graduating; it’s not like they’ll cross paths after that.

“Bet you can’t run to the woods and back before the bell rings.”

Steve sits up, a gleam of interest in his eyes. He checks his watch. “The bell’s gonna ring in, like, two minutes, Munson.”

“Oh, sorry, I thought you were so bored. Well, if you’re not up to the challenge—”

“No, no,” Steve says, standing up. “I didn’t say that.” He actually gets into position like he’s on the running track, looks at Eddie expectantly.

Eddie covers his bemusement with theatrics; he mimes firing a starting pistol.

And… shit, Steve Harrington can run.

Objectively, it’s not like it’s a surprise; he wasn’t exactly bringing up the rear in the swim and basketball teams. Still, it’s one thing knowing it, another to see it up close like this.

Eddie puts his book back in his bag, watching as Steve disappears from view. Reluctantly, he edges away from the hill—if he doesn’t, he’ll risk being late for class again by the time he walks over, and… He thinks of ‘86, what has to be his third time lucky. Start as you mean to go on, and all that.

Eddie turns back to look. Sure enough, Steve comes sprinting out of the woods, racing up to the hill right as the bell rings.

“Still counts, Munson!” he calls, a little breathless.

And Eddie knows that he’s not really solved the mystery of what’s going on with Steve Harrington.

What he does know is that Steve is smiling as he raises a fist in victory, the sun turning his hair golden for just a moment; he looks utterly free—as he should be, graduation’s right around the corner.

And Eddie can’t begrudge him that.

”Inspirational,” he shouts, cupping a hand around his mouth as he walks backwards. “I’ll get John Hughes on the phone, stat.”

The bell stops. Eddie turns around before he can trip on his own feet.

He’s getting closer to the school building now, can feel the change in the air, cliques unwillingly disbanding as teachers move them on.

But as he heads to class, Eddie faintly hears evidence that the moment hasn’t been broken entirely: Steve Harrington’s laughter, drifting across on the wind.

[stxrmxtsu]

I know this sounds wierd af but um…how likely do you think the brothers would touch S/O’s boobs or butt (WITH THEM ENTHUSIASTICALLY CONSENTING OF COURSE)

GIRL YOU AIN’T WEIRD FOR ASKING CUZ I WANT THEM TO TOUCH ME LIKE THAT

also i added a little personal touch to this since at first i didn't understand your ask, and i kinda just rolled with how i read it, so IM SO SORRY IF ITS NOT WHAT YOU MEANT

(small update: i got a little lazy and 'to the point' with these because this fandom is slowly slipping through my fingers :( so sorry if it isn't top tier)

tag(s): talks about booties and boobies so slight NSFW warning, ichimatsu being lowkey obsessed with you (as he should), etc.

osomatsu:

you don’t understand, he NEEDS to have a hand on you at all times. especially on your ass. he would constantly ask if he can touch your tiddies, even in public, and with your ENTHUSIASTIC consent, you’d mostly say yes and not care that others are watching but when its an actual inappropriate time, you’d be like “BOY SHUT UP”.

i think he likes touching your ass more tho and he more often than not, does the ‘put hand in the back pocket of your jeans’ thing.

karamatsu:

kara is also a 'put hand in the back pocket of your jeans' kind of person, but i think it's more of a 'im being protective of my woman/ kind of thing', but we all know....that's only half of the case.. i believe that karamatsu is a pervert but he chokes that shit down and hides it with his 'omg im so cool' facade. he gets nervous when he gets close to your tiddies tho, even if you consented or just did not care if he put his hands all over you, he would be like 'nope respect women juice comes first before my sick perversions'

choromatsu:

its a given, he's awkward as all fuck. listen, you consented, you told him you didn't care if he touched you, and he still sits there and stares at you awkwardly waiting for you to initiate something first.

one time though, he actually mustered up the courage to touch your boobas while you were making out and then he got cocky and started squeezing your waist, down to your ass and you moaned, of course, but his brain processed that as 'oh my god i hurt her' and he pulled AWAY.

you didn't forgive him for that one and he has apologized so many times since that day.

ichimatsu:

he's also a pervert that chokes it down, but i think in a relationship, his sick mind comes out more. OF COURSE, he would ask you first, he would never just let his intrusive thoughts win. and with your surprisingly enthusiastic consent...

all hell breaks loose..

what have you done, [name]?

that man is just as bad as osomatsu, his hands are EVERYWHERE on your body.

i think his favorite place is your ass tho. idk, its the perfect place to rest his hands on and he especially loves laying on it when you two have your lazy days.

he's just happy you exist tbh and he can do whatever he wants without having to feel bad about it.

jyushimatsu:

alright let me just make this clear, jyushimatsu is just as perverted as his other brothers, he just also drinks his respect women juice.

but once you give him free reign over touching you..

he's so 'cute' about it though, i think? he likes to mask the fact that he's tryna touch your tiddies with 'aww a hug from behind! how cute' kind of thing.

WE KNOW WHAT YOU ARE JYUSHI.

todomatsu:

totty is.....totty. of course he would wanna touch your tummy more because of your belly button, but this is about boobs and booty. i think he's in the same boat as jyushi, 'mask the fact that he's tryna feel you up with a cutesy act' thing.

if you're taller than him (this is gonna get self indulgent), he likes to rest his chin on your chest (boobs) and look up at you all innocent, like, YOU'RE NOT FOOLING ANYONE TODOMATSU.

i think in general though, he doesn't really touch you anywhere, even with your spoken consent. the only times he'll probably touch you there is when you guys are getting....steamy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

the end! im so sorry this took so long to get out to you, anon. my life is just really busy and i never really have time off to myself anymore but hopefully this makes up for your wait! as i said, i did get a little lazy and just came up with some things on the spot but i hope its still worth reading! (i mean any matsu content is matsu content).

and as stated, my hyperfixation for this fandom is slowly dwindling but i really hope i can get back to it and get this content out for you guys!

also mini life update: i started my ear stretching process for gauges! its still very small and hopefully i can get it to a decent size, i don't want them TOO big because...ew.

[vnti-vntiety-recs]

i need a mark lee drabble so bad like hes soo attractive 🫡🫡

I highkey owe yall a mark fic so even though this was submitted after closing i'll indulge lol.

Hes a little drabble from a WIP im supposed to be working on lmaoooo. I have no idea when it will be done, but nothings set in stone so if you wanna see certain elements in this fic lmk and ill put em to the side once i get to writing this.

Baby, I'm a rockstar Mark x reader sneak peak

“You only joined to get back at me!” Mark insists, his tone a mix of frustration and accusation.

“Hmm, not quite. I also joined to sleep with Jeno,” you reply, shrugging nonchalantly as you lean against the wall, trying to mask the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

Mark’s band, Limitless, had recently lost its lead singer, Yuta, who had been signed to a major label, effectively sidelining the rest of the group. The sudden vacancy left the members feeling tense and unsure of their future as a band.

Mark posted about the opening along with the audition details, you felt an irresistible pull to be there. It was a chance to reclaim some of the passion you once shared with music—just as much as it was an opportunity to confront Mark again.

Your relationship with him had ended on shaky terms; he had chosen the band over you, pouring himself into rehearsals and gigs, and leaving little room for anything else. You often wondered if he had ever truly cared, or if you had just been a distraction from his ambitions. Now, it was hard to resist throwing barbs his way whenever possible, letting him know exactly how you felt about his choices.

Mark crossed his arms, an eyebrow raised in skepticism. “Right, because you couldn’t possibly be interested in the music.”

You can’t help but smirk. “Oh, please. I live for music. But let’s be real; having a shot at a date with Jeno is a nice bonus, too. Just imagine how awkward that’ll make it for you when you see us together.”

His face twists in annoyance, but you can’t quite tell if he’s more irritated by your boldness or the idea of you moving on without him. You relish in the tension, eager to remind him of everything he lost. After all, he left you for the band, and now you were back, ready to disrupt his world just like he had disrupted yours.

“You're childish! You're wasting my time. I know you don’t really care about this,” Mark snaps, exasperation etched across his face.

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” you retort, arching an eyebrow. A smirk creeps onto your lips as you continue, “Your band members agree. They voted me in, remember?” You watch as he clenches his jaw, trying to reign in his frustration. “And the last time I checked, you needed a singer—and now you’ve got one.”

“You—” Mark starts, but then he stops mid-sentence, clearly grappling with his emotions.

“Huh? What’s that?” you prompt, leaning in slightly, your voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Exactly.”

For a moment, the air crackles with tension. You can see the conflict in his eyes, the part of him that wants to lash out versus the part that knows you’re right. It’s almost satisfying to watch him struggle, to see the realization that his band’s fate now rests in your hands. The smile on your face widens, fueled by the thrill of the challenge and the satisfaction of reclaiming your voice—both in music and in this ongoing rivalry.

“Let me catch you slip up, I’ll give you hell” He spits, shoulder-checking you on his way out of the practice room.

Oh you were going to have so much fun fucking with him.

[wroteclassicaly]

i hope im not too late for the kink hour! 🫣 but skirt kink has been in my mind lately; either of the boys would love love love to see you in a short skirt that lends itself to some handsy flirting 😏

Ooooh, okay, so I love this ^_^ Thanks for sending it in!

Warnings: Language, mentions of masturbation, vaginal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), and more!

~*~

You’d all been friends a long time, but Eddie and Steve had started fooling around almost immediately after they bonded. Eddie wasn’t exactly shy about hiding how he continuously drooled over the former jock, often gossiping with you about how you’d both got off to not so friendly thoughts of Steve Harrington. However, Eddie got to him first, Steve reciprocating—suavely charming the metal head. They haven’t really labeled anything, both still pining after one more missing piece (you). You’d had to reign in your jealousy and nurse your sore wrist from the tension in the tendons, following the times you’d hung out with them and couldn’t wait to climb back beneath your sheets at home.

Today is different, though. You’re in your new cherry red leather skirt, fishnets tight over your thighs, and boots on your feet, with some lace crop top hugging (whatever your body type is <3) your figure. Nancy, you and Robin had went to get your nails and hair done for the Hallows Eve party in just a few hours, deciding to stop by the Family Video for some candy and videos to watch later in the night. None of you favored staying out too late and the parties around here were boring anymore. When you’d walked in between the two girls Steve had dropped all of his tapes on the floor and Eddie slipped on one, the cigarette he wasn’t supposed to be smoking in the store— catching in the carpet and burning a hole through the cheap threads. Once everyone’s laughter (you, Robin & Nance’s) had subsided, you three went into raiding the candy rack, stuffing Nancy’s big purse full.

But neither boy had stopped staring at you, whispering between the confines of their hair care product fumes and colognes. They also had zero plans tonight, but to get a little drunk at Eddie’s place after a small bonfire near Skull Rock. Though you suspect they’re headed there to make out (something you totally won’t be thinking about during the lame ass party). You’ve just gotten a pack of Razzles in your palm, shaking the candy from side to side, when Eddie is asking you something that makes your eyes roll beneath the smoky shadow.

“By the way, Y/N, what are you supposed to be going as?”

Steve, with his hand on his hip and a brow raised, smirks. You want to wipe it off with your mouth, but you’ll settle for some sass instead. Shifting on your work combat boots, you jut a hip out, tossing the Razzles behind you to an intercepting Robin, who hands them off to the stockpile Nancy’s organizing in her oversized bag.

Without missing a beat, you make sure they both know you’re simultaneously addressing them, and then it’s off your red stained mouth. “Your one night stand.”

You can hear Nancy snicker behind you, Robin coughing into her fist, with a ‘holy shit.’ And the guys’ expressions? Christmas has flown in early. You have to turn and bite on your painted lip, your two girlfriends sharing a mental high five with you. That’s the exact moment you see Nancy get one of those looks. The one that tells you she’s got a plan circulating around in that head of hers.

Before you can question it, she’s slapping a ten dollar bill on the counter, telling Steve to keep the change, and she’s pulling Robin towards the door, halting you as you attempt to follow, confused and slightly irritated. “Nance? What the fuck?” You warn.

“You don’t like parties anyway, right? And I was thinking me and Robs had this thing we were gonna go check out, instead—“

“We did?” Robin is more confused than you, receiving a slightly shoulder bump from Nance. “Ow! Okay, we did!”

“And why can’t I come? Or is it just the Nancy and Robin show now?” You cross you arms, tired of third wheeling different scenarios (oh, you are so not thinking of the two men to your left, still attempting to process your words).

Nancy shakes her head and backs completely out of the door with Robin in tow, that bell ringing and making your palms begin to sweat. You’ll be alone here, with no plans and no ride home. Her plan. Sometimes, you wished she were still into Steve. “Make it work!” She calls out, winking at you.

The silence that follows is sickening. It’s you and the combination of the only two guys you’ve ever really felt much of anything (everything) for. And you’re wearing something that’s so unlike you, you could be mistaken for a slutty clone. You sigh, folding your arms on the counter and using one hand to dig into your small clutch for cab money. Steve is objecting immediately, seemingly insulted.

“You know she meant for me to drive you home, right?”

Your patience thins and the band snaps. “No fucking shit, Harrington! She had to completely deviate from our plans in favor of her own, embarrass me—“

“Why would you be embarrassed? We’re all friends, aren’t we?” Eddie is baiting you, those large chocolate eyes making you feel zoned in on and small, but in ways that keep you grounded, held.

“Some of us…” You mutter, swallowing on the rush of a sudden anxiety spike.

They look at one another in knowing communication. You pretend you don’t notice, looking at your new nails.

“You’re awfully quiet, sweetheart. Cat got your tongue?” Eddie is getting closer and you turn around to avoid it, but he slides in behind you, arms on either side of your body, knuckles pressed on the counter that you’re leaning on, his chin dropping onto your shoulder. “Talk to me. M’ not gonna judge, you know that.”

“To us.” Steve comes around the counter so that he’s directly in front of you and Eddie, tilting over it on folded arms.

Fuck. You’re directly between them, caught.

“It’s just… I got into this stupid ass outfit and now I’m not going anywhere but home. It was all a waste of time.” And that’s not a complete lie. You’ve just left out the part that you wanted them to go crazy in seeing you dressed up, in comparison to your usual getup of jeans and t-shirts.

“Nance didn’t think so.” Steve tries.

“Yeah, well, who cares what she thought.” You snap, trying to shake off Eddie’s hold. He doesn’t budge.

“Do you care what we think?” It’s Steve’s voice again, his thumb reaching out to brush along your jaw.

You immediately jolt into the contact, hips pushing back against Eddie’s crotch without meaning to. He stiffens, groaning, tone muffled in your shoulder, almost a plea. “Man…”

You’re tired, so very exhausted. Lifting your gaze to Steve’s, you nod. “And what if I do? What if I tell you that it’s all for you guys? That what I’m wearing underneath was especially bought with you two in mind…?”

Eddie’s lifting himself from your neck, eyes rapidly darting between you and Steve. “Fuck, for real?”

“Don’t act like we didn’t talk about getting ourselves off when we thought about Steve. Except you can actually do stuff with him now.” You’re being entirely transparent, breaking free of his grip.

“You… you guys masturbated thinking about me?” Steve’s freckle dotted throat constricts around a gulp.

“I masturbate thinking about both of you.” You confess, chewing on your lower lip, arms crossed so that you can caress your own flesh in comfort.

“As in… present tense?” Eddie verbalizes. Steve is already retreating from his place around the counter, finding your personal space with a brisk invasion.

His big hand hovers over the side of your fish net covered thigh. “Can I feel you a little bit, honey?”

You don’t have to ask why, Eddie cutting off your remaining doubts, finding your left side. “We talk about you every time we fuck, Y/N. You’re there even when you’re… not.”

He brushes a back handed stroke with his rings over your collarbone, their metal cooling your skin. Steve scratches along the fabric stapled to your thighs. “Pretty. Like a present that’s begging to be unwrapped.”

“Fuck, guys. Don’t you have plans tonight?” It’s a lame question on your oblivious end, but it makes Steve snort and Eddie grin.

“Plans with an additional person. One that we’re definitely gonna have to keep warm in the woods tonight.”

They close in on you and you’re entirely fucked. You’ll have to thank Nancy later.

~*~

The firelight glitters in the background, staving off Autumn’s biting night breeze. It’s beautiful and serene, noises identified only by the singular panting breaths of three people caught in pleasure. They took you along with them after Steve closed down the store.

Eddie made good on his promise to keep you warm, but you suspect it was a way to also see you with half your costume on. Your boots and fishnets are on top of your shirt and jacket, your underwear beside them. A blanket is underneath your feet to give them comfort. Your skirt is bunched around your waist, and your silk black bra pulled down to expose your breasts. Steve is on his knees in front of you, his mouth working in delicate slurps that drag you onto your tip toes with each stroke, pushing you back into Eddie, who has one finger deep in your cunt, working in tandem with Steve’s tongue.

You’re on the cusp of a sweet death and headed to hell on Halloween.

[goodlucktai]

give me something that’ll haunt me when you’re not around

chapter three: me and you and the whole town underwater

rise of the tmnt pairing: leoichi (leonardo / usagi yuichi) word count: 3k title borrowed from dark blue by jack’s mannequin post-movie

(previous) (next)

read on ao3

x

Usagi: Good morning Leonardo. Unknown: USAGI Unknown: there are so many snacks in here oh my god Unknown: what the hell 😭😭😭😭 Unknown: im heavily medicated its not fair to do nic ethings ill cry Unknown: tell ur aunt i said THANK YOU!!!!!!! and the blueberry buckle was SO GOOD😭😭 Unknown: i shared some w mikey and he wants the recipe like yesterday Unknown: we actually ate like. all of it in one sitting. raph was pissed lol

Yuichi lays in bed smiling at his phone for a while before he gets around to pulling his braincells together to form a reply.

He starts and stops typing so many times that it’s embarrassing. He’ll pretend he didn’t do that.

Usagi: Those snacks were specifically meant to aid in your recovery. Unknown: so idk how familiar u are w baby brothers but typically mike gets whatever he wants

Yuichi thinks of his youngest cousin Jomei. Tiny and soft, with huge gray eyes, and unfortunately already self-aware at four years old. If Mike—Michelangelo, Yuichi thinks he remembers the boy being called—is even half as powerful as Jomei, then Leonardo’s blueberry buckle didn’t stand a chance.

Usagi: Fair enough.

It’s a good thing he woke up early. He doesn’t get anything else done for hours. Leonardo is an enthusiastic conversation partner at all times, and his texts manage to translate that energy effortlessly.  

Typically, Yuichi lets his friends save their contact IDs in his phone however they want. Leonardo isn’t there to do it himself, but Yuichi makes the rookie mistake of giving him free reign anyway. So Leonardo insists his number go in under ⚡️⚡️NEON LEON⚡️⚡️ and Yuichi has something to roll his eyes at every time they message each other.

It also makes him feel warm. There’s an affectionate little tug in his chest at this clear proof of Leonardo in his hands.

Now that he has this unfettered access to the very same person he wants to talk to all the time, Yuichi checks his phone a lot more than he used to over the next couple days. He even keeps it in his waist apron pocket at work, which some of the other servers do, which technically isn’t against the rules because none of them have abused the privilege so far.

Yuichi will feel extremely bad and guilty if he’s the one who abuses the privilege and ruins it for everyone. But when it vibrates in his pocket while he’s going outside to dump the trash anyway, he might as well linger for an extra minute and check his messages, right? Right??

Once, Señor Hueso catches Yuichi lingering in the employee lounge after his lunch break is well over, moving at a snail’s pace back toward the dining room with his nose buried in his phone. He almost walks right into his boss’s chest, saved only by the last-minute sense of someone else’s immediate presence that Karasu-Tengu-sensei mercilessly trained into him years ago. So he freezes a few inches away instead and his eyes dart up to the skeleton yokai’s unamused expression.

Oh boy. Señor Hueso is generally a very patient person but he’s no-nonsense about work. Is Yuichi in trouble? Is he going to get fired?

“I’msosorry,” Yuichi whispers.

But instead of scolding him, Señor Hueso only gives a pointed look to the phone in Yuichi’s hands and says sternly, “You tell Pepino to give it a rest. He’s still recovering from a concussion, he doesn’t need to be staring at a screen all day, madre de dios. Please be a good influence.”

“You don’t know I was talking to Leonardo,” Yuichi says defensively. He has other friends he could be texting! Then he takes a second look at the older yokai’s face and backtracks immediately. “I mean. Uh. Yes, sir. I’ll tell him.”

“Good. Now you have tables seated in your section.”

It’s a dismissal if Usagi’s ever heard one, so he scurries into the dining room with five times his original speed, sending one last message before he shoves his phone away.

Usagi: Señor says no more screen time while you’re recovering from a concussion. ⚡️⚡️NEON LEON⚡️⚡️: what?? how even??? ⚡️⚡️NEON LEON⚡️⚡️: he doesn’t KNOW ur taking to me

Thank you, that’s exactly what Yuichi said!

He makes it a point to actually focus for the rest of his shift, but it’s a Wednesday afternoon, and things are slow. Sunita is off for the day, and Qiao is studying at the bar when they’re not actively pouring drinks, and those are the only two coworkers Yuichi is familiar enough to strike up conversation with, so he keeps to his own section and works quietly.

It’s been brought up a couple of times now, in passing—Leonardo’s condition. Apparently, even a month after the invasion, he’s still healing. Yuichi didn’t know the symptoms of a concussion could last whole weeks. He doesn’t really know much about kappa, or whatever manner of creature Leonardo and his brothers are, but for a head injury to be that severe…

Suddenly, the sight of Raphael’s damaged eye jumps to the front of Yuichi’s memory. The clean hole in the big turtle’s rock-solid carapace. What the hell could have done that? What happened to them?

His brain is coming up with nightmare fuel like that’s its job. Something horrible went down behind-the-scenes while Yuichi was completely ignorant—while Yuichi was waiting tables and getting into trouble with Kitsune and Gen and helping with the tomato harvest, Leonardo and his family were in almost certain danger. And Yuichi didn’t know.

He plops down on a stool at the bar at the tail end of his last break for the day, and Qiao wordlessly slides him a cranberry juice on the rocks.

“How do I get my friend to tell me about something that may or may not be a sensitive subject?” he blurts.

“Have you tried asking him about it?” the ram yokai replies in a tone that manages to be both over-exaggerated and monotone.

Yuichi doesn’t even know why he bothers. He taps his phone on the counter a few times, takes a big gulp of cranberry juice that he pretends is something much stronger, then goes for it.

Usagi: I need to talk to you. ⚡️⚡️NEON LEON⚡️⚡️: oooooo ominous Usagi: It’s not ominous, weirdo. I have to go now but I’m off at 7.

Any normal person would have taken that last text at face-value, but Yuichi isn’t dealing with a normal person, is he?

So maybe he should have been expecting it when he leaves the restaurant a few hours later and finds Leonardo waiting for him outside. He's leaning heavily on one of his katana, either in an attempt to look cool or because he’s having trouble staying upright.

Yuichi is not inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he blurts. His flat tone definitely does not convey his shock, but he’s feeling too much right now to articulate any of it properly.

Leonardo laughs out loud. It’s a different sound than it used to be—hoarse and a little restrained, like he’s trying to remember he doesn’t have to be quiet. But it’s still bright, and it still makes Yuichi’s heart do backflips in his chest.

He’s wearing a hooded sweatshirt that looks way too big to belong to him, a deep maroon color, repaired with clumsy pink stitches along the shoulders. One of the sleeves is hiked up to Leonardo’s elbow, due to the unwieldy cast on his left forearm, covered in doodles and stickers. The hoodie is unzipped down the front, so Yuichi can make out the cracks in Leonardo’s plastron, spiderweb lines cutting cruelly through the armored scutes. It’s hard to imagine the kind of pressure it would have taken to crush his shell—the same kind that drilled that hole through Raphael’s? What happened to them?

The skin around Leonardo’s neck and the side of his face is still discolored from what must have been pretty nasty bruises, and there are puffy red marks where scars haven’t settled yet. He looks older than the last time Yuichi saw him.

But he’s here. And he’s smiling, a footprint of that laughter left on his face. And now he’s—oh boy, now he’s starting to list to the side.

Yuichi crosses the distance between them at a run, catching Leonardo by the arm before he can topple all the way over.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” Yuichi says waspishly, afraid to let him go.

“You wouldn’t,” Leonardo says cheerfully. He’s leaning heavily against Yuichi’s shoulder, his hand is shaking as he sheathes his katana over his shoulder, seriously, what the fuck is he doing here? “Everyone’s cussed me out at least once since I woke up. Add you to the list.”

Flustered, Yuichi says, “I did not do that.”

“You did! You said the fuck word!”

Yuichi rolls his eyes and begins the process of dragging Leonardo toward the nearest bench, staring down anyone who drifts into their path. The tree yokai already reclining there takes one look at Yuichi’s expression, grabs her bag, and takes off without a word.

Maybe he’ll feel bad about being impolite later. He doesn’t have any room for it in his brain right now. He doesn’t even think he remembers to breathe until Leonardo is safely sitting down, slumping onto the bench seat like someone five times his age.

Yuichi crouches down in front of him, giving him a hard look. If he needs medical attention, Yuichi will kick Run of the Mill’s doors down and drag Señor Hueso out here by his tie. Who needs a part-time job anyway?

But Leonardo seems to be okay now that he’s caught his breath, and he’s still grinning, like Yuichi is the best thing he’s seen in days.

“Do you use your scary face to get what you want all the time, or is this a special occasion?” the turtle asks coyly.

“I am beginning to understand why everyone has cussed you out since you woke up this morning,” Yuichi replies, sitting back on his heels.

Something tight that’s been clenched in his chest like a closed fist has suddenly loosened, a letting go when Yuichi didn’t even know he’d been holding on.

He’s missed Leonardo. Being around him has always been easy, even when looking directly at him is like staring into the sun, even when Yuichi’s words get lost somewhere between his head and his throat and he ends up spending most of their conversations just listening and watching.

“Not since this morning,” Leonardo interjects. “Can you imagine everyone getting on my case like that all in one day? That would just be bullying. I meant since the coma.”

There it is again. Little breadcrumbs, teasing scraps of information.

Yuichi gazes up at him, and has at least a dozen questions he wants to ask. That’s why Leonardo is here, even if he doesn’t realize it. Yuichi’s curiosity inadvertently dragged his friend from the safety of his home and the safe harbor of his family to the chaotic streets of the Hidden City.

The trip itself seems to have been hard on him, when usually it’s little-to-no-effort to step through a portal between one location and the next. His forehead gleams with sweat, and he’s still breathing a little heavily, like he just ran a marathon. He’s a pale shade of the vibrant boy Yuichi first met a year ago. He looks like he regrets bringing up the coma.

But he’s still here.

Abruptly, Yuichi doesn’t want to ask any of his questions. He just wants his friend to be here.

When Leonardo says, “Sooo, what’s so serious you dragged me all the way out here?” Yuichi pushes himself to his feet and takes the seat on the bench beside him with a theatrical sigh.

“Nothing, Leonardo,” he lies. “I just wanted to talk to you. You’re the one who jumped to conclusions.”

Some tense line in Leonardo’s shoulders that Yuichi hadn’t noticed before seems to go lax, even as he rolls his eyes. “I’m a ninja, we jump, it’s a whole thing. Anyway, more importantly, did I see a stall selling dumplings down the street or nah?”

“There’s no way I can convince you to stay on this bench, is there?” Yuichi knows the answer already and he’s getting up before Leonardo has a chance to say anything, offering him his hands. When Leonardo takes them, Yuichi hauls him up onto his feet.

They stand there together for a moment, neither of them letting go. Yuichi doesn’t even feel the usual need to spring away from him before he gets too close because he’s missed this stupid guy. And his stupid face, and his stupid big hands, and the stupid way Yuichi feels around him.

Whatever happened to him, happened. Yuichi can’t change that now. And if Leonardo wants to tell him about it, he will. But Yuichi gets the feeling that what Leonardo really wants right now is to feel normal. To feel like maybe one thing in his life is the same as it’s always been.

“Dumplings,” Yuichi announces, with all the enthusiasm of his little cousins faced with the unjust trial of bedtime. “If you fall on your face, I’m leaving you there.”

“If I don’t, you’re buying,” Leonardo quips back.

Yuichi scowls, remembers he’s still holding Leonardo’s hands, and then sort of forgets how to person for long enough that Leonardo lets go and goes a few steps without him. His brain literally goes offline for a minute. That’s never happened before.

“No it’s okay,” he hears Leonardo saying to someone on the street nearby. “It’s not his fault, he’s never been the same, you know, not since the storm.”

Fur bristling, Yuichi hustles to catch up, hopefully before Leonardo has done any actual lasting damage to his reputation. He has an image to maintain around here! He’s Usagi Miyamoto’s direct descendant, and Miyamoto was never anything but cool!

“Quit making up lore about me!” he hisses.

“Quit being weird!” Leonardo replies, clearly enjoying himself. “Dumplings!”

Yuichi scowls but falls into step beside him anyway. This is the guy he missed so much?

As soon as he has that uncharitable thought, he regrets it.

He thinks about April saying he always seemed pissed off to have Leonardo around, and darts a quick look at the striped turtle ambling along beside him. Leonardo doesn’t seem put off by Yuichi’s prickly attitude, but still—it wouldn’t hurt to make sure.

Yuichi waits until they’ve paid the elderly yokai woman running the food stall for two paper plates of crispy gyoza, so he has something to do with his hands, something to focus on besides his awkward tongue, to say, “I’m glad you’re back.”

Leonardo glances sidelong at him, crunching through a dumpling unselfconsciously. His mouth is full but his expression very clearly says ‘say what now?’

“Here, I mean,” Yuichi tells his plate. “Back here. I didn’t even know you were—I’m just glad you’re better.”

They walk the length of the block before Leonardo replies.

“I wouldn’t worry about us, Usagi. Me and my brothers can take a hit. You could even say we were made for it.” That’s a strange sentiment, and something bitter comes and goes across Leonardo’s face before Yuichi can make sense of it, as swift and darting as the little minnows that flit through the creek that winds past his family’s farm. Then Leonardo adds, sounding much more like himself, “My stupid arm is all that’s slowing me down now.”

“Considering it was broken in eight places, I would take six weeks in a cast as a solid win,” someone says from directly behind them.

Yuichi doesn’t jump in shock, he freezes, rabbit-still. Leonardo doesn’t seem surprised at all—he just groans theatrically.

“Oh nooo, it’s the consequences of my actions.”

Donatello snorts. Because that’s who it is, Yuichi realizes as he turns to get a good look at him.

“You can’t just run off, Nardo,” the purple-masked turtle says. His tone implies that this is not a suggestion. “You get why that’s uncool and unfair, right? Like, I don’t have to explain that very simple, elementary-level concept to you?”

“I left a note,” Leonardo argues in his own defense.

“You sure did,” Donatello replies, so level and calm that it sets Yuichi’s whiskers on edge, because that level calmness is very much a thinly veiled promise of bodily harm. “You left a note on your door that said “Do Not Disturb, Beauty Sleep in Progress.” And then you left one on your empty bed that you just drew a winky face on.”

“I realized I didn’t need any more beauty sleep, Dontron. I decided to save some for the rest of you sad scrubs. You’re welcome.”

“How magnanimous.”

Beyond the color-coded masks and the dramatically different body shapes and skin tones, there’s another easy way to tell the Hamato siblings apart; all of them have brown eyes in varying shades. Michelangelo’s are warm, tempered honey, while Raphael’s are darker and richer, edging into red.

Leonardo and Donatello, the twins, have identical golden eyes, piercing and impossibly bright even in the semi-dark of falling dusk. Under the warm lantern light, with their defining characteristics all but overshadowed, it would probably be easy to mistake them for a perfect mirror of each other.

But Yuichi could never make that mistake. Donatello’s eyes are different, because the way he looks at Yuichi is different.

Especially now. Where Leonardo was delighted to see Yuichi for the first time since before the invasion, Donatello is looking at Yuichi like he’s a clear and present threat.

Yuichi doesn’t know what Donatello has to feel threatened about. He has a good grasp of his own abilities and he’s self-aware enough to admit that Donatello could definitely take him in a fair fight. Any of his siblings probably could, up to and including his sister, out of stubbornness and spite alone. Yuichi is the one who feels hunted, like a tiny fluffy animal that was just sighted by a bored, hungry hawk, all because of the cold, calculating gold in Donatello’s eyes.

Then Leonardo plants his good hand on the side of his twin’s face and shoves it an arm’s length away. Donatello sputters and flails, and Leonardo talks over him with the ease of years of practice.

“Thanks for the dumplings,” Leonardo tells him. “See you when I’m finally un-grounded, someday seven years from now.”

Yuichi nods, offering a little wave. He watches Leonardo unsheathe a katana and form a bright, spinning blue portal with one swift downward slice through the air. Donatello is griping at him in harsh undertones, and Leonardo is giving back as good as he gets, but it doesn’t escape Yuichi that Donatello has gravitated protectively to Leonardo’s bad side, and Leonardo is leaning his weight against his brother like he’s actually much more tired than he was willing to let on.

Leonardo needs a break. He needs fresh air. He needs to—to not disappear again, even if it probably won’t actually be for seven years.

Before he can second-guess himself, Yuichi blurts, “I’m off on Friday! You should come to the farm. One of our tokage’s nestlings just hatched so we have babies to play with and they’re really cute!”

Donatello makes an antagonistic noise under his breath and hauls Leonardo through the portal. Before he disappears, Yuichi watches Leonardo’s whole body light up, a grin splitting his face in half.

“It’s a date!” Leonardo calls cheerfully in the seconds before he’s gone.

The portal closes. Yuichi stares at the empty space where it used to exist while the word “date” bounces around in his head like a free-floating balloon filled with screaming instead of the more traditional helium.

Usagi: Important time-sensitive HYPOTHETICAL question Usagi: When you make plans with your friend and he calls it a date, how do you ask what he means by that without sounding like an insane person?? SUNA: oh my god!!!!!! ꒰☉ｪ☉꒱

[prettyb0ycvnt]

i woke up like 6 hours ago and the only thing i had on my mind was writing more of this for u to touch urself to so "૮₍ •⤙•˶

a week has passed since my encounter with the prince and so far... nothing has really happened. the prince mustve forgotten! or he pitied me too much to say something to the king. theres no way i can do what i did without any consequences is there? anytime my superiors call me in, i think, my time has come, my life is over now. but its never the case. did i really get away with it? 

as i return from my post to the guards chambers, theres a messenger. he hands me a scroll, not sparing me a dirty and disapproving scowl. its from the prince, he told me before walking away. i looked at the scroll in fear, this was the end of me, im done for, ill never see the prince again! i open the scroll and begin reading its writings. as expected, it is from the prince, but reading further was far more surprising.

calling me to return to your bed chambers, telling me how you havent gone a second without thinking of our short time together, lustful and depraved writing about that night and how you wish for me to do more. im frozen in disbelief, not only have i survived but you want... more of me? i take off the heavy plate armour that stopped me last time, keeping my helmet and chainmail. i try to hide my eagerness as i make my way to your chambers but that proves futile as i run down the castles halls to reunite with you. the guard outside your chambers gives me a weird look when i approach, but i am too desperate to spare him a moment and explain. i open you door and im greeted by the sight of you on the floor, with your legs spread open facing the door, fingers in your cunt. i close and lock the door behind me, taking off my helmet and remaining armour as i rush down to you. my goodness prince, you look like a puppy in heat! let me help you, i say as i climb on top of you. my fingers start working your tdick and cunt but you stop me by holding my wrist, shyly eyeing my crotch. i nod, picking you up with ease and placing you on the bed, being on the royal guard sure comes in handy during sexual encounters. 

as i take out my cock i see your cunt twitch and drool at the sight. my once pure and untainted prince now begging me to defile him. somehow as i line myself up with your cunt, and slide my cock inside you, its not a dream. at this point its hard to hold back, enveloped by your warm and tight boypussy, i start off slow and gentle with my thrusts but each moan and whimper makes me shed a layer of self control until im relentless, manhandling you into whatever position i choose, leaving all kinds of marks on your, bruises, bites, hickeys with no regard to where or who might see them. lips on lips, skin on skin, pulling your hair, for so long that tear stream down your cheeks from the pleasure. the best part was making you ride me, my sweet prince bruised up and used, pathetically grinding with my cock up inside you... what a sight to remember. 

even after hours like this, both of us exhausted, i still wasnt satisfied. i lay down on your bed, with you between my legs, face red and hair messy as you reach for my cock with your hand. you give a few strokes before taking the tip in your mouth, slowly taking in as much as you can, which was about halfway. but it was more then enough. you're so cute with your mouth stuffed with cock, i say as i run my fingers through your hair, letting you take the reigns as i admired you. i felt so .. blessed. as if the heavens heard my prayers all those years ago. it doesnt take long for me to cum in your mouth, making you pull away so i finish on your face as well, your perfect face covered in my filth. 

(okay i really dont know how to end or where to go w this so ill leave it up to ur imagination <3 hope u enjoyed, prince 👑)

-🗡️👾🛡️ 

oh my goshhfhfb this response is so late but hholy shit. every time i see you in my inbox its literally a blessing. a miracle, even. because gguh*#?$ everything you send me is literally perfect..??? hfjdjfjjg god this is sososo hot im going to. i feel like im going to combust! also>#($,/?? the bit about riding???? i fear that drove me absolutely insaneee ughh there's something about the thought of riding someone that really gets me so sososo hot >_< !??! godd,,, my brain is farrr too overworked to put together any semblance of a coherent thought about this but god.. i enjoyed it sososo much !!!! going crazy,,, hdhdhjfjgnjgh!??@*

[rahleeyah]

d. c. anon saying hello!

I’m very curious to see if the finales this season (or maybe early next season?) bring together all these little nuggets of wisdom we have been getting all season from benson or if it all was just how it was written, with no connection/complete coincidence, and we were all reading too much into what she has been saying?

Or if we will know what m meant by saying “it’s not like it seems” or something like that. I know I’m getting the quote wrong.

With that being said, im loving this arc. Oscar papa bring brought in was purely for the fans 😂😂 however Amanda? Was she always this amazing profiler? Genuinely asking bc why else would she have been brought in? Like to serve the purpose of highlighting that Amanda clocked Elliot for leaving Liv? Again for the fans?

welcome back anon!

if we were still under wet lettuce's reign of terror, I would not be able to say with any confidence that I think there would be payoff for all the threads that have been woven so far this season, and Olivia's nuggets of wisdom in particular (physician heal thyself indeed). however. the premises are under new management and that new management has so far done a much better job of telling a cohesive story across episodes, and so I am cautiously optimistic that Olivia's lightbulb moment is incoming. it feels, very much, like somebody over there knows what they're doing, and the fact that the last couple episodes of both shows were left in the same hands gives an even greater potential for a satisfying payoff, tho I continue to remind myself of how s14 ended - we may very well be left on a cliffhanger. which like, that's a solid way to insure a big audience for the premieres, whenever they may be. so we shall see.

oh, Amanda. so Amanda's thing has always been psychology - she has, in a few episodes scattered across her decade on the show, expressed a particular interest in getting inside the minds of the most deranged killers. it is her thing, tho it's always bothered me; I am thinking of the machine elves episodes now, and Amanda's interest in and defense of alternate theories of consciousness, an interest which has always seemed at odds with her intensely narrow view of the world (for example, "abuse victims deserve the abuse bc they allow it to happen" is a theory she has espoused more than once, which, lol).

so the thing is, right, is that it isn't out of left field or anything, her wanting to do these things, it sits right inside of the characteristics they have given her. the thing is, I've never seen any reason to believe she speaks with any authority on the subject. she took point on a few interrogations - the Henry Mesner fiasco comes to mind - and has attended lectures - as they all have - but like. My girlfriend has spent a lot of time learning about serial killers. no one is calling her to be a profiler. I feel like Amanda was brought back not for her skills but for the Drama(tm). Some fans like her very much, bringing back a familiar face for a finale is a good way to boost ratings, allowing us to see Olivia interact with Amanda after we have watched Liv grieving her absence is compelling from a character perspective. and that's the thing, right, is that this is entertainment, so it doesn't matter if Amanda has any skill as a profiler - just like it didn't matter that Nick's pivot into science seems super weird. it's a "willing suspension of disbelief" moment, I think, and I may fuss about it on occasion but I'm not like. mad about it lol

I did want to see Elliot and Amanda acknowledge that they have something in common in leaving Liv, so I'm glad we got that, though "I left bc I'd killed a teenager about the same age as one of my own daughters and the brass were going to make me do a number of things I personally find intolerable and even then I might not get my job back and I can't risk my pension and I have a toddler to raise and I can't talk to Liv about it bc I'm in love with her and if I see her face I'm gonna throw everything away for her" and "I took a new job and then never called her again and made my husband, who is her friend and sees her very often for work, promise not to tell her I'm pregnant for reasons as yet unspecified" are not exactly the same thing.

[thy-lover]

Never Fall in Love Again - M. Bell, D. Van Der Linde

Do Not Interact/Read unless over 18+

WARNINGS - GAY FIC/Sex, One-Sided Pining, Angsty, Smut(the unromantic kind), Public Sex, Cheating, Dom!Micah/Sub!Dutch, Hair Pomade as Lube but what the hell, i dare you to find me some K Y Jelly in the 18 fucking '00s plus I'm as creative as the color gray(fuckit,hairpomadefortheclutch)

SUMMARY - Why was Dutch so blinded by Micah that he would betray his only son? Arthur Morgan breaks up with Micah Bell. And during an escort job, Dutch Van Der Linde attempts to pick up what his "son" left behind.

(gif by @woman-with-no-name)

The glances Dutch sent Micah have not gone unnoticed by Micah, but the job had to be done, and that meant there was no fuckin around.

A man sat between Micah and Dutch in the carriage, with his hands tied and his feet bound. They were to drop this man off at the sheriff's office for a bounty, they just had to collect the money and go back to Shady Belle. And for some odd reason Dutch told Micah he wanted to come, no insisted and Micah who valued his precious alone time had to give it up and agreed.

After they dropped the wanted man off, Micah and Dutch rode in peaceful silence, that is until Micah saw Dutch look at him once again and without hesitation, Micah's annoyance took over "Speak. Dutch. Gettin' tired of them side glances."

Dutch cleared his throat at the unexpected call out "Wonderin' why Arthur left you is all...?" it spoke out more like a question than an explanation.

Micah cringed internally his hands gripped the reigns tightly, the wound slightly re-opening.

"I hate you!" Arthur shouted stomping his boot down onto the sand.

Micah snickered "Oh, please, you hate me now, cowpoke? Never said nothin' like that when you was fuckin me."

Arthur turned around sharply "You cheated on me!!! Yous lucky I don't shoot you where you stand."

"thought I told you, that was an accident ain't mean nothing to me."

Arthur scoffed "Go to hell, Micah."

In Micah's head he did nothing wrong fuckin that lady was sure as shit unexpected but hell he was drunk. Too drunk to tell a pussy from a cock. Well, that ain't the whole truth. He was drunk, but he couldn't verbally deny the working girl who grabbed him by the coat and drag him to a room. It felt good, Micah couldn't deny that so he kinda just went along with it. In his drunken state all he knew was fucking her stimulated the feeling of making love to Arthur.

But it wasn't until Arthur walked in did Micah look at the woman who was very much not Arthur and look at the very real Arthur standing at the door his hands ready to grab his guns.

"Ah, Arthur," Micah pulled his cock out of the woman and stumbled over to the door "Won't ya join us? She feels mighty good, I thought she was ya for a second." Micah went to Arthur attempting to through himself at him. Micah's face was greeted with an oak door busting Micah's nose and making Micah fall on his ass "Fuck!"

The woman got up from the bed and put her johns back on and fixed the bottom half of her dress, she walked over to Micah and held out her hand "That'll be five dollars sug."

Micah just huffed and used his free time to find a cigarette and lit it "Cheated on 'im." no point in lying Dutch probably already knows.

"Why'd ya do that?" Dutch asked.

"Hell am I supposed to know!!!" Micah immediately regretted the way that came out and took another puff of the cigarette "Ugh, Dunno, I was drunk, didn't, didn't know what I was doing."

Dutch reached over to Micah and pulled the cigarette right out his mouth and put it in his own "Then I guess that means me and you have more in common than id like to think."

Micah knew what he was talking about it wasn't exactly a secret. Dutch was known for sleeping around with 'business partners' behind the back of whatever woman he was married to at the time. His explanation being he does this 'for the sake of the gang' his reputation exceeded him.

Micah shrugged "I guess, you fuck a woman behind your boyfriend's back?"

Dutch snorted out in a tiny fit of amusement "Can't say I have but I have cheated on a wife with a man."

Micah doubled over accidentally tugging the reigns making the horses shift drastically "Shit Micah!" Dutch grabbed the wooden bench and only let go once Micah got the horses back on the road "The fuck do ya mean, with a man?"

Dutch shrugged "For the sake of the gang right?"

Micah scratched his neck "Didn't make ya out to be the type to like men."

As silence overtook the air allowing two men to gather their bearings. But Dutch was the one to ward off the silence "Arthur ever blow ya?" Dutch asked putting out the cigarette.

"W-what?" Micah asked flabbergasted.

Dutch stared into Micah's eyes with a stern look "Asked if Arthur ever blow you?"

Micah recovered quickly still feeling cocky over the fact that he bagged Arthur fucking Morgan, he was ready to brag about it anytime any place "Of course he blew me. Put my cock down his throat like a pro." Micah made it sound like he wasn't begging for it.

Dutch reached over and grabbed Micah's thigh feeling along the inner seam till he could feel the tip of Micah's cock through his jeans "Would you allow me to try to best him?"

Given Micah's drive and lack of sexual control, his nerves were spiking but Micah played it off well with a cold look sent Dutch's way "Fuck would you want to do that for?"

"if you don't want me to then by all means say no." Micah looked at Dutch with the most confused look in the world.

Micah scoffed he was probably just trying to gauge a reaction "Be my Guest." Micah joked.

Unfortunately, well at least to Micah, Dutch reached over and began unbuckling Micah's belt "Hey! What the hell're you doin'?!"

Dutch looked up at him and smirked continuing onto his zipper "Something wrong?"

Micah decided to stay silent and allow Dutch to effectively get his cock out when someone in another coach looked over to them, Micah immediately pulled out his revolver and aimed it at the bewildered man. Micah was lucky he still had his mask on, "Fuck outta here, for I take your head off."

The man on the other coach whipped his horses to move faster. When Dutch undressed him enough for Micah's cock to spring out, he started with a tight fist around the base. Micah growled at him and looked up to see a few cardinals and crows fly by, he didn't want to look down, didn't want to see anyone but Arthur give him a blow job.

Dutch soon licked around the tip of Micah's dick, Dutch in a moment of clear-headedness realized he was sucking off Micah Fucking Bell, when Dutch looked up to see a grateful Micah he was greeted by Micah trying to look anywhere but at him.

"Micah! Your supposed to-"

Micah finally looked down a type of darkness coating his eyes "Quit talkin' just keep goin',"

Micah's hand traveled from the base of Dutch's neck before weaving it in Dutch's long black hair "Said keep going Dutch." Dutch slowly began to take Micah's head back in his mouth at first, allowing Micah to get used to the feeling, from his mouth Dutch began to take him further, and the process was sped up when Dutch allowed Micah to fuck his mouth and hold down his head "Arthur!" the way Arthurs name came out of Micah's mouth was so hot, so natural like he should moan no one's name but Arthurs. Micah can't help but remember the high he got when Arthur gave him a blowjob.

Micah was more than happy at the fact that he wore his leather shotgun coat. The tree he was leaning against had gnarly bark and Arthur wasn't stopping. When was the last time he felt so good? His mouth made Micah shake and grab. When was the last time he felt so good about himself, just the mere sight of Arthur down on his knees, with his cute little pink tongue sticking out to collect whatever was left in the wake of his undoing?

"Told ya it wasn't so bad," Arthur said casually swallowing Micah's cum. A wave of adoration hit Micah like he just saw Arthur again for the first time, just fallen in love all over again.

"Shit, Arthur," Micah took a big breath "Say we ought to take this to your tent?"

Dutch growled, pulling Micah out if his state. When Micah looked down to confront Dutch the image of Arthur replaced Dutch. Micah grabbed 'Arthur' by the hair and began to fuck his mouth "Keep goin' Arthur."

Dutch couldn't tell how long he was sucking Micah off, it wasn't until Dutch was let up for air did he speak, Dutch was frustrated, frustrated Micah hasn't fucking cum yet. His jaw was fucking hurting and his throat felt numb "Micah! Cum or something!"

Micah stopped in his tracks the image of Arthur faded away, the weight of the world falling back on Micah's shoulders, the weight of a world without his little cowpoke.

Micah grabbed the reigns and tugged the reigns and the horses sharply went right and planted themselves to the side of the road. Micah leaned forward and began to rip the buttons off Dutch's vest "Micah!" Dutch scowled at the action of his expensive vest being destroyed

Micah didn't bother to care only fanned his hands around Dutch's abdomen, Micah's mouth trailed down to Dutch's nipple, and began to bite the surrounding strong flesh. Dutch's back arched to allow Micah more access to his chest. Micah pulled away and grabbed Dutch's neck "Get out."

Dutch was confused at first but when Micah gave Arth-Dutch a look that meant unfinished business Dutch scrambled out of the Chuckwagon. Micah followed behind him and when they were in the clear Micah pushed Dutch against the side of the chuckwagon.

This was unusual behavior for Micah when it came to him and Arthur who topped was always a 50/50 Micah would sometimes top, and Arthur would sometimes top. Micah thoroughly enjoyed being a bottom, but so did Arthur. They both need to be weak for each other they both need to feel protected and bottoming was something Micah only felt safe with if it was Arthur. While Micah's heart hardened he made up his mind to allow the urge to dominate Dutch to take control.

Micah began to unbuckle Dutch's belt and pushed his pants down past his knee. Dutch got the gist and stepped out of his pants. Micah spits in his hand and began stroking Dutch's cock. Micah didn't unclothe he just used his other hand to unbuckle his belt and push his pants far enough down so that he can free his cock.

"Turn around." Micah ordered Dutch.

Dutch turned around bending ever slightly with his palms pressed flat against the wagon. Micah pushed his hands up to feel the small of Dutch's back. But slowly lowered them so Micah could cup Dutch's ass "Gotta lube ya up Dutch. How'd I do it? Less you want me to just-"

Dutch rolled his eyes not that Micah could see it "Got hair pomade, check the drawer." Dutch pointed to the side of the chuck wagon. Micah did just that and managed to find the tin. With haste, Micah put the Pomade on two of his fingers he reached down and applied it to Dutch's tight hole.

Micah fingered him, slowly at first but the moment Dutch began to moan "Micah's little slut are you?" Micah growled.

Dutch couldn't help but bite his lip and close his eyes. Dutch wouldn't lie, this has happened to him before hell he's even done it to himself. Finger himself while jacking off often brought pleasure to himself as Dutch has never known. But since Micah joined the gang. Well technically since Micah saved his life, Micah was on Dutch's mind 24/7. How many times has he silently apologized to Molly because of an accidental name-drop. In all fairness, her and Micah's name did start with an M.

But this was real, not some fever dream. Here he was using Micah and his 'sons' relationship issues to his advantage.

Dutch began to moan again "Been thinking about this long boss?" Micah said teasingly. Dutch's willingness was odd and his moaning confused Micah.

Dutch slowly nodded, Micah laughed, but his laugh was cut short when he heard horseshoes tapping the road and getting louder. Micah's eyes met a young traveler who started at Dutch and Micah with shock, Micah quickly grabbed his gun and shot at the floor near the horse's hooves "Get the hell outta here!"

The man rode away fast.

Micah turned back to Dutch and chuckled "Sick of waiting now Dutch."

Micah forcefully turned Dutch around and press his back up against the wagon. Micah raised Dutch's legs so they rested around his hips and Micah held Dutch up by the thigh.

Micah used the remained of pomade to coat his cock with, "line me up Dutch, gotta hold you."

Dutch reached between his thighs to grab Micah's dick and line it up with his ass "ah, 'kay."

Micah immediately thrust forward his dick finally entering Dutch. Dutch on the other hand had other ideas. Dutch raised his hand and punched Micah right on the jaw not hard enough so Micah would drop him, but hard enough to get his point through. Micah snarled immediately at Dutch "Fuck you do that for?!"

Dutch growled back "What do you want to skewer me?! Take it slow you bastard! Fuckin' hurt!"

Micahs eye twitches 'Arthur was a whole lot less of a fuss' he couldn't help but think.

Micah just sighed and stayed in him knowing it was probably gonna hurt if he pulled out. However, Micah could feel himself getting tired of holding Dutch so before his arms gave out Micah rushed Dutch to the back of the wagon kicked the tailgate so it fell open, and instructed Dutch to try and lay down all with his cock still in him "For fucks sake Micah."

Micah just huffed and allowed Dutch to comfortably get into a missionary position "What? Can't hold onto ya forever!"

Dutch just threw his head back and tried to ease the discomfort of Micah's hard dick causing pulsing pain, Micah just tilted his head to the side. From this position, he could be mistaken for Arthur. Micah reached down to Dutch stomach with one battered and calloused hand.

Micah couldn't help but press down on the flat yet strong area that was Dutch's stomach right above his hip "What are you doin'?" Dutch asked.

Micah just looked back up at him "Fucked Arthur in this position. Last time I did it he came so hard all over his stomach."

Dutch crossed his arms "Yeah well let's not worry about Ar-"

"Nah, you don't get it. I fucked Arthur. And I watched his cum coat his belly," Micah began to raise Dutch's legs higher "Heard there was a spot in women. Makes 'em whine and beg. Think I might have hit the male version of that spot when I fucked Arthur," Micah lowered his hand so he could grab Dutch's manhood and stroke his slick member, Micah began to tighten his fist around Dutch, his wrist moving up and down. Micah repositioned his hand. So that when his fist reached near the top, Micah could raise his thumb to stroke the tip of Dutch's dick "Heard it was called a...a... prostate? I think."

Dutch reached out and grabbed Micah's black coat by the collar, the more Micah stroked Dutch the more his mind began to wander away from the pain. Micah took this as his opportunity to move slowly. Not thrusting very hard just a slow but steady easing motion never letting go of Dutch.

Suddenly Dutch gave him the okay to move faster, Faster Micah did go. Stroking Dutch faster and pounding into Dutch faster "Micah!" Dutch squealed out.

Micah stared at Dutch's face, watching as it changed watching as the illusion came back. He was no longer looking at Dutch's face he was seeing Arthur move and moan.

"Micah!" With one final shout, Dutch felt Micah hit his prostate and continue doing so. When Dutch found the strength to open his eyes he watched Micah stare deeply into his eyes not saying a word nothing but heavy breaths and sharp inhales.

'could this be it? Could Micah finally love me more than Arthur?'

O B S S I O N

Micah began to lose it he felt himself jump off the bridge of ecstasy "I gotta cum, Arthur," Dutch had come on his stomach, but there was something that pulled Dutch out of ecstasy.

H A T R E D

"ARTHUR!" Micah howled as he let himself go completely. And as Micah came he draped himself over 'Arthur'. Pants of exhaustion Micah "Arthur-" Micah said in the crook of 'Arthurs' Neck.

"Arthur I am so-" when Micah pulled himself up to gaze at 'Arthurs' face swift reality him.

Dutch looked up at Micah with Rage mixed with a little hurt. Micah stopped himself and pulled away completely, he did it again. He did what Arthur left him to form Arthur may have dumped Micah flat on his ass but Micah still wanted him. Micah was willing to change.

A N G E R

Micah growled and took his cock out of Dutch and stuffed it back in his pants. Micah pulled his gun out of his holster and stuck it right under Dutch's chin. Dutch looked at Micah with anger and jealousy "Tell anyone, Arthur especially about this. And I will kill you."

Micah tucked his gun back in his holster and whistled for Baylock who was peacefully grazing.

________

The motives behind the betrayal of Dutch Van Der Linde and Arthur Morgan is unknown. What caused a father figure to turn the gun on his own son is a question that grew in the west and die in the Old America.

[woahjo]

Hi Cal I saw the KS asks and I was summoned! This situation truly was the precursor to modern dark content morality policing. I remember so many people ran with the toxic BL label because the author had allegedly acknowledged it as a valid reading of the work. She was just excited that KS was getting so much attention and basically said that she was happy to see people engaging with her work even if it was in a different way from what she thought. Which brings up a really interesting point: is the author allowed to tell you how to read the book? And as an author, what do you do when differing interpretations escalate into completely missing the point? Is there anything you can do?

still insane to me that an author acknowledging that reading something as a romance is valid can equate to "i condone this behavior and think it's what people should strive for! it's only a romance!" very wild. the world is failing. media is dying. subtlety has been dead for a long time.

also.. as much as i'd love to say that an author is allowed to tell someone how to read or interpret work but i honestly think it's just not realistic. different life experiences breed different interpretations and, in most cases, that's not necessarily a bad thing. when it comes to missing the point completely... i really don't think there is anything to be done outside of just saying "this is the point of that work". people will read things the way they want to read things and im sure the author of KS feels some type of way about how people have interpreted her work.

when it comes to creative things, one of the blessings and curses is that people will make their own interpretations of intended messages or themes. honestly, i like it when people develop their own ideas about things i make, but there have also definitely been times where certain things i've written or done don't get noticed/are missed. i think the most an author can do (in the case that opinions end up spiraling into "missing the point") is to just.. say what the original point is and sort of let go of the reigns. once something creative is out in the world, there's no taking it back, ya know? on the other hand though, it's a wonderful things to have people enjoy / engage with your work so much that there's room for mass interpretation that way!!!

regardless, i really think that with KS and a lot of other works in similar genres that contain dark content, the issue is the demonization of thought and story. combined, ofc, with less media literacy and the currently prolific idea that writing it = condoning it. we all draw our line somewhere when it comes to that (i know i do), but the crux of the issue is that a lot of people simply... don't know how to properly read anymore. that sounds mean but it's def true. as a society, we've undervalued literature and the humanities to the point that print media is literally a dying industry. things that aren't STEM have taken a backseat not just culturally, but educationally, because they've been passed off as "easy" and "common sense", so people have stopped trying to learn it. the general belief has shifted greatly in the last few years to the idea that media literacy is a natural-born ability rather than a skill honed over many years (we all know the joke of "who cares that the curtains are blue" when the point of those exercises isn't about the color, but the ability to pick up on subtlety in literature and to teach people how to pick up on subtext). we've stopped caring about learning it because we've been taught that STEM is the more educated route and should be the central focus of education. tragically, this means that more complicated works end up in the "bad" category purely because bad things happen without obvious condemnation. and the worst part of it is that, on a daily basis (outside of profession), we use the humanities (reading, writing, analysis, ethics, etc) more than most people will ever need to use a complex math problem or know a specific scientific formula or cycle. but alas... the world is changing and i hate it.

[thetraumajunkyard]

The Devil is My Father.

For I was once little, coming into the world with no question about it.

A little girl seeing a man and adapting to him being the one who protects, guides, loves unconditionally, wants the best for me, and could no wrong.

as a child, the faith, hope, imagination, will to create, love of life, and trust was so strong.

he protected me against my mother who i thought wanted me for me, but turns out.. the money drove her.

“she doesnt want you.” “im all you need.” im the only one who cares about you.” “ill give you everything that you want.” with all that spewing out his mouth, how could i not believe him? he’s my father! he cant do no wrong.

i thought.

with me giving up hope on my mother, the faith, hope, will to create, love of life and trust started to diminish.

he was all i needed.

little did i know, he was self projecting too.

as i got a lil older, words that started with “You’ll always be my lil girl.” went to “i wouldve sent you back with your mom but i kept you for the money she owes me.” “You need me.” “nobody wants you.”

my faith, hope, will to create, love of life, and trust.. disappeared.

his harsh words, along with his sweet words, wrestled in my head. he was my voice in my head now. there was no escaping.

i did need him. at times he needed me, and i thought just for a second that he wants to do better as a father for me.

once he was back on his feet, every single time, i was the gum on the bottom of his shoe trying to scrape it away.

“Youre a bum. You should be disappointed in yourself for not having a job.” (i didnt have it because i was taking care of him when he got shot) went from talking to every thing he said was a jab. “thats why your mom didnt want you.”

he ran through so many women. so many. just for me to find out that yes he’s lustful, cant stay tied to one woman, and wants to be a hoe but every woman he wanted to marry was only because he wanted his daughter to have a mother figure.

it was sweet and thoughtful, i thought.

but he gave them all free reign over me while he went out working all the time, not having time for me or my brother. went out and cheated. and living his best life. he brought pain to his own life and got confused. but then i became the one who suffered through the hands of him and the women he came across. all because of his actions.

it started off rocky with the woman i now call my mother. but as we fixed things we realized he was the problem. i endured pain, suffering and abuse all because of his actions. stuff i never should’ve gone through or seen.

secrets are now told as i got older. things became a lot clearer. “your dad only married me, to be a mother for you. he didnt love me.” she was always there for me and my lil brother. she did everything a father was supposed to do. shes my mother and my father. he abandoned us all every single time just to come back and sleep for work and be gone.

he was never a father to me.

he was the devil in disguise.

God says to love our enemies and honestly i feel like i tried. no matter what he has done, or said to me.

But now i pushed our father/daughter relationship off the cliff. he pushed me to that point.

you may wonder is he trying to fix it.

the answer is no. he’s perfectly fine with how we are. and since he is fine with it, and didnt want to be my father in the first place..

i became okay with that. even if it hurts at times.

because he showed me, i was only an inconvenience to his life, controlled everything in my life while i catered to him all the time just to turn around and be tossed like trash.

i decided to stop recycling and leave it in the trash for good like he want it.

the devil is my father, and he had my life in his hands.

-Tinz.

[hobisstar]

You Are The Tribal

Chiefs Baby Now

*i do not own the rights to this gif*

Summary: With the biggest Wrestlemania match happening, Y/N is some how wrapped around Romans finger. How? Well basically when Brock made the stipulation for winner takes all, he included her.

Warning: Swearing, Claiming, Mild Mention of Sexual Things, Kinky obvi, Dom! Tribal Chief, possessive! Roman. 

A/N: I really just came up with this one right now and i’m excited to get this out in like 2 hours or so. Hopefully it is long and enjoyable.

“Y/N calm down! Im sure Brock will try and secure the titles and you. He won’t let you go to Roman even if he wins.” Kayla said trying to calm her down.

“Really? Kayla im literally about to faint. Im scared shitless. I’ve been with Brock since paul turned on him at the rumble.

I’ve help him get the where he is now. What can i help do for Roman? Paul has done everything already while i can’t do much for Roman but be a piece of jewelry on his arm every time you see him.”

“Or you can just worry about Brock winning for right now. You two have been friends even before this! Since UFC! Trust me he won’t let anything happen.”

“Or Kayla you can run along.” They both froze and turned around seeing Roman Reigns the tribal chief himself.

Kayla looked at Y/N and mouthed she was sorry and ran off. Y/N turned around and rolled her eyes. “Why isn it the Not So Head Of the Table. How may i help you?”

He chuckled and moved closer which made her step back.

“Oh Y/N by the end of the night will you be saying my name correctly babygirl. You and that title will be rightfully in my hands like they were supposed to a long time ago.” He looked her up and down.

“Tell me does he know about us? Our past? Hell our future?”

Y/N looked at him. “Don’t you dare every mention anything to Brock-“

“Baby~ What type of guy do you take me as? Of course the Tribal Chief will keep his mouth quiet but please”

he paused to move closer and whisper “I miss burying my cock deep in that warm embrace.” He said and kissed her cheek and back up. “See you later tonight, Ms. Y/N”

She watched him walk him away and she was literally frozen.

Her and Roman go back more than her and brock.

Roman and Y/N were in a relationship back in the Shield Days for him. They were in love yes definitely but it just didn’t work out. Her going back and forth from UFC to WWE when brock would appear was just too much for her.

Of course Roman didn’t seem a reason for them to break up he knew how to make things work and he was willing to make all of this work!

They did try but once Roman started getting jealous and more possessive it was harder on her to forever keep up with this.

When they broke up, it was heart breaking for them both but they felt it was for the better.

Once Y/N came back to WWE officially around SummerSlam, Roman was happy I mean, his literally life was back in the company. He found out that she was on Brock’s side… oh he wasn’t so happy at all.

He trashed his entire locker room and made Paul find someone to clean it up.

(Before the match ending)

Y/Ns POV

“One .. TWO…THREE! Here is your winner AND THE NEW UNDISPUTED HEAVY WEIGHT CHAMPION… ROMAN REIGNS!”

I was shocked and in disbelief. He won the titles and he won me. No, that won’t happen i won’t allow it.

I look up and see Roman eyeing me like i’m his prey or last dinner. I look over and see Paul holding the ropes waiting for me to get in the ring.

I look over and grab a mic. “ No, No Cut the music. Congratulations on your win and all but you aren’t getting me . You are even crazier than i even led you to be.

I never agreed to being with you so there for i won’t be your little bitch.” I said and dropped the mic hearing the crowd go wild. I stood up, a female at that, I stood up to the do called tribal chief. i turned on my heels and started up the ramp.

“Y/N, Get your ass down here. I won one of my awards now i need and will have my other one.” he said and rolled out the ring ans started following me up the Ramp.

I speed up my walking into like jogging. No. Im not gonna he his i don’t want to be.

“Y/N!” I heard him yell. I stopped once i realized that where i was heading was to a Dead end.

“What do you want huh? Roman i don’t care what we had years ago. I work with and for Brock you just win a title or a match and think you own me too!

Remember You decided you want me to choose between you or UFC, and he’ll it wasn’t like i had a choice! You demanded me to choose you and i did. For a year i choose you.

But i grew tired of not being able to do what i love with people i love. So i left you Ro, I left you so you could find someone who could love you better and work while doing it.”

“Look, i’m sorry that our pass didn’t work out and i would see why you hate my guts i get that. But i want to do better now. I will do better.

I want you Y/N to myself i hate having to share you with anyone because i just deeply love you that way.

Im not leaving till you rightfully on my side where you belong.” He finished and looked at him.

God those Brown eyes always did something to me i couldn’t control.

I looked up at him and sighed and said “Once i join you or whatever you call this no funny business.”

He chuckled and then smirked pulling me closer but also stepping closer so there was no space left between us.

“Babygirl i call the shots around here. I promise there will no funny business. Nothing but sweet loving to you from me. Can’t have my queen working like a dog now can I?” He looked at me up and down and but his lip.

To be honest i missed everything about roman but no one knew about us so how would we pull this off? Im not blood so why am i apart of the bloodline.

“I’m not apart of the Bloodline so what good does this do for me?”

“ Well You will be The Tribal Chiefs Assistant. You will be First in charge of everything but Paul will be the one making it official. I want you to be the man part of this Y/N you will be the Tribal Chiefs Queen in Charge.”

I nodded listening to him. Being in charge? An Assistant? Well it’s better than what i did for Brock in UFC and here put together.

“I really want to make this important and special to both of us.” He smiled at me and picked me up.

“I love you with all my heart Y/N let me make this right for both of us. Please?”

I chuckled and smiled “Fine! We better make this right Ro, I really want to”

he kissed my cheek then my lips and smiled at me “ Finally, You Are The Tribal Chiefs Baby Now”