#naked handyman

[krysmcscience]

Did somebody say Bill shouldn't be allowed to swear? I think somebody said Bill shouldn't be allowed to swear. Thanks to that, have these retooled The Good Place jokes:

The "powers that be" can refer to either the Theraprism staff, the Axolotl, or just. Ya know. Disney in general. Or all three! Whichever you think is funniest. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The "party" Bill's referring to is Weirdmageddon, of course. He was quite the ashhole to everyone back then.

Ford has probably gotten pretty good at the 'tune out your psychopathic ex with dank memes' challenge.

It must be very cathartic to be able to make Bill shut up whenever you want with just the press of a button. I'm sure Ford doesn't abuse this ability at all.

Oh, sure, 'Not now,' he says, before he immediately backs out of the newly-made hole in the Theraprism wall. 🙄

Don't worry, Bill doesn't get far.

also yeah i know this one doesn't have an attempted swear - i just wanted to use the joke because of the massive stink-eye involved in it because it makes me laugh

⬇️ More goofs beneath the brief ramble if you wanna skip it lmao⬇️

Why is Ford even there, you might ask? Well, he either decided he preferred to watch Bill suffer in person over being distantly and repeatedly harassed with the same evil desperation book for the rest of his life, or he got roped into some kind of contrived community service for 1.) all his many counts of interdimensional thievery, and 2.) his ignoring all the very clear warnings to NOT summon Bill in the first place (which I like to imagine is also illegal). Theraprism staff were just like, 'Wait, this guy matters to Bill? Ooh, we can USE that! It might be the only thing that can help him want to get better!' It is not considered that throwing Ford at Bill so soon after Weirdmageddon could instead make them both WORSE - in new and altogether special ways! :D

Anyway, I'm calling it the Community Service AU, and I am most likely not going to do anything else with it beyond appropriating these silly Good Place jokes. So, feel free to adopt the concept if y'all wanna??? Just make sure that Bill is still not allowed to swear, no matter what, full stop. It's gotta be a real linguistic corkblork of a situation for him, is all I'm sayin'.

Finally, have these bonus Good Place jokes, but with Handyman!Bill this time:

'Opposite tortures' doesn't sound so bad...at least until it's an all-powerful chaos entity known for torture saying it.

you may think i forgot mabel's cute pink cheeks but the truth is that i did in fact forget but then immediately stopped caring which makes it okay, SHHHHHHH

And, finally:

lmao this is shit

True facts, if you cram Season 1 Eleanor Shellstrop and Michael into a singular triangle shape, they turn into Bill Cipher. This is science, look it up. Or don't, and just trust the source that is me, bro.

Anyway, I should be in bed, y'all have fun with these, I guess. Tune in after like a week or so and maybe I'll have an addendum to my comic about how Bill was drawn naked for karaoke night. Because him actually being naked was not the only thing I considered as a plausible explanation. XD

Also if you see any inconsistencies or errors in any of these comics, No You Do Not :D

Also also, reblogs are rad as hell and I appreciate every single one, just don't repost, please and thanks. Every time a repost is made, an artist somewhere cries. :,)

[steddielations]

Steve doesn’t know if he should say something.

He knows, he obviously knows that Eddie’s been taking his clothes.

It’s like a routine at this point. They’ll be hanging around Steve’s pool or up on his roof getting high, Eddie will say he’s cold no matter what he’s wearing or how warm it is. And if Steve’s not wearing a jacket to give him, Eddie will go ruffle through Steve’s closet and at the end of the night, he always “forgets” to give it back before he leaves.

Steve’s not sure if Eddie’s just doing it to fuck with him or if it’s an actual reason. Like Eddie doesn’t have clothes, or his washer is broken and he can’t afford to fix it, or he doesn’t have money for the laundromat or something serious that Steve does not want to be insensitive about, but he’s seriously running out of clothes.

For fuck’s sake, he’s wearing his Christmas sweater from two years ago, he literally had nothing else in his closet.

He’s starting to think that’s the endgame here, that Eddie’s just waiting until Steve shows up bare ass naked so he can laugh in his face.

Finally, Steve decides to get some answers while they’re hanging out in Eddie’s room, wearing his too-small Christmas sweater that Eddie’s already teased him about.

“Eddie, is… is everything like… okay?”

Steve asks carefully, picking at threads on Eddie’s comforter.

Eddie’s fingers pause on his guitar strings, joint hanging out of his mouth as he gives Steve a curious look.

“You mean just in general or…? Because I’m far from what someone like yourself would consider “okay” but that’s normal for me.”

Steve looks around the room, noting the usual piles of Eddie’s clothes, recognizing a lot of his own. Doesn’t seem like Eddie’s in any shortage of things to wear, and his laundry always piles up. Nothing looks out of sorts, maybe he just hasn’t felt like doing it lately, and Steve doesn’t want to be insensitive if that’s the case either.

He minds his words, “I mean like, are things okay for you? Like around the house, your refrigerator’s working, your washing machine isn’t broken or anything?”

Eddie smirks, “What if they’re not? Is Handyman Harrington gonna put on his little toolbelt and fix it all up?” He always makes light when he senses something uneasy coming.

“Real funny. I’m serious, Eddie. Is there a reason you haven’t done laundry? If you’re not feeling up to it or something, I don’t mind helping.”

Eddie sobers a little then, putting his guitar down and dabbing out the joint in the ashtray on the bedside table, “Yes my washing machine works. Yes I can do my laundry, I’m just lazy as shit and letting it pile up. What’s this about, Steve?”

“Because you—” Steve runs his fingers through his hair, pulling it, flustered, “I’m literally wearing my Christmas sweater in goddamn October because you have all my clothes, dude.”

Something registers in Eddie’s gaze but he quickly deflects, laughing, “Oh is that why? I thought you just pulled out that little number ‘cause it's skin tight, you minx.”

“Is everything okay?” Steve doesn’t let him change the subject, offering gently, “If you need to borrow some money or use my washer or something then—”

“No, no that’s not it,” Eddie shakes his head, smile gone, seeming kind of nervous now, “I don’t need anything like that, Stevie.”

Steve sighs, at a loss, “So why do you keep taking my clothes, Eddie?”

Eddie lets out a small laugh, almost sad, a little bitter, “You’re really gonna make me say it, Harrington?”

“Say what? You can tell me,” Steve scoots closer to him on the bed. He tries to meet Eddie’s gaze, to make sure he knows he can tell Steve. Fuck, they saved the world together, they almost died together, he knows he can tell Steve anything.

So it sort of hurts when Eddie won’t look at him, or answer him, but Steve tries to be understanding.

“Okay,” he sighs, resigned, “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me, but I’m just gonna need some of them back if that’s alright—”

“God, you really are something,” Eddie gives that same bitter laugh. It hurts, mostly because Steve knows there’s something deeper here, something’s hurting Eddie and he won’t tell Steve. “Of course, it’s alright. They’re your clothes, it’s not even… Fuck, it’s not even about the clothes.”

“So you were just fucking with me then?”

Eddie shakes his head, hands tugging his own hair, the way he does when he’s anxious, “No, it wasn’t a prank Steve.”

“You’re trying out a different style?”

“Definitely not.”

“Dustin dared you, or something?”

“No, it’s not like that—”

“So then why did you do it? I don’t—”

“Shit, Steve, I’m— I took them because they smell like you, alright?”

Steve’s mouth opens and closes several times.

“I… You… What?”

Eddie won’t look him in the eyes, sighing sharply down at the bed, “Don’t make me say it again.”

Steve blinks, asking slowly, “You… like the way that I smell?”

Eddie finally looks up at him, a heavy cloud behind his dark eyes as he admits, “Yes I do and not in a friend sort of way. In a way that I’m literally stealing all your clothes like a fucking weirdo just to feel like I’m hugging you at night, or something— I dunno, Steve. It helps with the nightmares.”

Steve’s heart is sort of doing flips in his chest.

That’s another reason why he waited so long to say anything. He doesn’t mind Eddie taking some of his clothes. He likes the idea of Eddie wearing everything that’s his, and not just as a friend helping out another friend. In a deeper way, in a way that he’s been suppressing because he didn’t want to ruin things with Eddie.

“That could still be a friend thing,” Steve says carefully, hoping that Eddie disagrees.

“It’s not a friend thing,” Eddie shakes his head, starting to move away from the bed and Steve’s stomach drops, “I don’t have ‘friend’ feelings for you, Steve. So I get it if you wanna walk out that door and never talk to me again. I’ll give all your clothes back, I shouldn’t have—”

Steve’s hand shoots out to Eddie’s knee, stopping him, rushing to say, “I don’t like you as a friend either.”

Eddie quickly looks up, expression careful, confused, “You— huh?”

“Fuck, that came out wrong, I just…” Steve sighs, bolsters himself up and rubs Eddie’s knee softly but with intent as he asks, “Eddie, can I hug you in a not-friend way?”

Eddie’s eyes flick up and down between Steve’s hand and his face about ten different times, gaze utterly wild, “Are you saying you have feelings for—”

“Just get over here and find out.”

Eddie’s grin mirrors Steve’s as he crawls across the bed. He’s tentative still, careful, so Steve just goes in, wrapping his arms around Eddie and pulling him against his chest. Eddie goes willingly, sliding his palms across Steve’s stupid Christmas sweater, his nose at Steve’s collar, breathing in deep.

Steve chuckles as Eddie burrows in, mumbling something about how good he smells.

Steve loves the way Eddie smells too, nuzzling into his hair, breathing in a hint of shampoo, smoke and something earthy, something Eddie. Steve loves the way he feels too, wants him impossibly closer.

“So why did you need so many of my clothes?” He asks softly after a while.

Eddie doesn’t lift his head when he replies, “Works best when the Steve smell is still strong. Had to get more when I sniffed it all up.”

Steve rolls his eyes, something like fondness tugging at his lips.

“You said it helps with nightmares?”

Eddie nods against him, admitting quietly, “On nights when my uncle works, it gets kinda creepy being alone here. Just having something that smells like you makes it feel like— I dunno, like you’re here with me. It’s weird.”

“It’s not. I wish I would’ve thought of that when my nightmares were bad,” instead of just not sleeping, or calling Robin all hours of the night. “Your uncle works tonight, right?”

“Yeah, he… yeah.”

Steve feels like he should be more nervous than he is, but Eddie hasn’t let up since the second Steve pulled him in, so he feels like he’s on the right track here.

“What if I stayed over? I have a feeling you’ll like hugging my sweater even more when I’m inside it.”

That makes Eddie burrow further into his neck, pressing a smile there.

“Already trying to get into my bed, Harrington? Should wait until at least the third hug for that,” playfully, Steve gives his side a little pinch, both of them chuckling, “Yeah, I’d like it if you stayed.”

Satisfied with that answer, Steve takes a risk, carefully wraps his hand around the back of Eddie’s legs, tugging a little to pull Eddie into his lap. Thankfully, Eddie wants it too. He sits atop Steve’s thighs and just melts into him, both of them sighing against each other.

Steve rubs broad circles across Eddie’s back, soothing the fabric of his yellow sweater that seems to be Eddie’s favorite to steal. He smiles into Eddie’s hair, feeling so warm and buzzing pleasantly all over.

It could’ve been hours gone by, Steve basking in Eddie’s body heat, in the weight of him, condensation forming against his neck where Eddie’s breathing him in. He pulls back a little, studies the blissed out look on Eddie’s face.

He blinks slowly at Steve, “Hey.”

Steve shakes his head, chuckling softly, “Hey, dummy.”

“Dummy?” Eddie parrots, grinning.

“Yeah. You’d rather steal my entire wardrobe than just give me a hug?” Steve squeezes him a little, “What if you wanted to kiss me, hm? Would you steal my chapstick?”

He lets his eyes linger on Eddie’s lips, hoping he gets the hint, takes the subtle offer.

Eddie’s finger toys with his collar, brushing the bone there as he murmurs back, “If you’d just kiss me I wouldn’t have to steal your chapstick to know how you taste.”

Steve tips his head back with a soft laugh before cupping Eddie’s face, “God, c’mere, you idiot,” then leans in and presses their smiling lips together.

It’s sweet at first, just gently pecking each other. Then the kisses last longer, grow deeper, tasting each other. Steve’s mouth falls open in a sigh, letting Eddie lick inside, sucking lightly on his lip.

Kissing Eddie is everything, a deep warmth simmering in Steve’s bones that he can’t get enough of. He wants it all over him, wants to clothe himself in it, burrow inside Eddie and never come out.

He leans back against the pillows, taking Eddie with him in his lap. The movement makes them rub together in a way that has Steve humming against Eddie’s lips, gripping his hips as a new kind of pleasure lights inside him.

Eddie pulls back then, laughing breathlessly.

“Okay,” he nuzzles their noses together, grinning as he mumbles, “We gotta relax or I’m gonna have to steal another pair of your underwear too.”

Steve playfully rolls his eyes as he moves his hands elsewhere, wrapping them around Eddie’s back.

Then, a beat later, it clicks and his brows furrow.

“Wait, what do you mean another pair, Munson?”

Eddie laughs and quickly dives back in for another kiss, silencing any more questions from Steve.

Ao3 Link

[princessbrunette]

kinktober : oct 9th

leon kennedy x mirror sex

when dating leon kennedy, watching him simply move was a privilege.

from years of gaining strength, leon’s body had sculpted itself into something you’d only see delicately painted in museums or sculpted into ancient statues standing proud and naked outside castles. you could watch him all day, from the way he’d casually roll his sore shoulders after a particularly tense workout — his back muscles dancing beneath the tight fabric of his compression tshirt as he’d stand in the kitchen making a snack, to the way his biceps would tense and relax — carrying in all of your shopping bags to the house in one trip, because leon was not a two trip kind of man.

this of course, extends to sex. the intimacy often times started because of the staring problem you’d gained from dating him, sauntering over when you’d zone out watching him unpack groceries with an adorable dazed expression on your face, gently cupping beneath your chin and tilting his head with that warm smirk of his. “y’know, it’s rude to stare.” he’d chide before leaning in to all but shove his tongue down your throat (definitely not complaining.)

perhaps that’s why you’d had him install that giant mirror facing your bed, watching him fit it to the wall and do all that handyman shit you thought was so sexy. “any reason you want it right here?” he casually slid into conversation midway through putting it up, the slightest of inflections in his tone suggesting he knew exactly why.

“no reason.”

it doesn’t take long to become painfully clear why, when he’s got you facing it in doggy style, staring straight through the mirror at the way his godly form rolls his hips into you, making his abs ripple and the meat of your ass recoil with each thud from his pelvis. you also get to stare at the way his skin is slightly glowing from sweat, and the look of concentration on his face as he tucks his tshirt beneath his chin, watching down at the way he fucks into you.

“so this was your plan all along huh? wanted to watch me ruin you?” through his breathlessness leon manages to smirk at you, strong hand gripping your ass cheeks and spreading them obscenely as he briefly slows his thrusts. at being called out, you feel your face heat and you retreat, burying your cheek into the bed to avoid his amused yet accusatory gaze.

as quickly as you do this, you’re being swept upwards.

“no, you wanted to watch — so watch.”

it’s not forceful or unkind, just so unapologetically leon. he’s scooped you so that you’re upright, back arched and his mouth by your ear. he wraps a strong bicep across your neck in almost a headlock, which makes you clench around him all the same. you looked so weak and pathetic like this, his hips continuing to smack against you as he fucks you just like that, the both of you on your knees, upright facing the mirror. your less forceful hands grip at his strong arm, holding on for dear life as he continues to take you infront of the mirror.

you relax, letting him do whatever he wants and finally let yourself lock eyes with him through the reflection again. his lips skim your cheekbone as he speaks, low and quietly. “atta girl. seem like you’re enjoying the show.”

[abibliophobiaa]

right where you left me

chapter three: you can hear it in the silence

summary: steve harrington is unlucky when it comes to matters of the heart. for years he’s been in love with his best friend, but circumstances have made it impossible for him to make his feelings known. fate seems to have other plans, when you ask him to help you escape your wedding day, with nothing but his hand to hold and a car to drive off in. you suddenly find yourself headed back to hawkins, back to the place that feels so unfamiliar now — back to the place where you first fell in love.

warnings: 18+; smut - r is inexperienced; alcohol mentions; class differences; financial insecurities; time skip, where r and steve are parents, purposeful vignette-like/short scenes to cover a larger span of time in this mini-series.

steve harrington x f!inexperienced!reader || best friends to lovers, mutual pining, second chance romance with the town handyman who lives in a cabin in the woods.

masterlist

——

Steve kisses you like he’s done it a thousand times before. He kisses you and it feels like kismet — like pieces of a puzzle shifting together. He kisses you, and you feel like you could take to the sky, run a marathon, or leap into the unknown with only his arms as safety.

And you soak up every moment. Every precious second as his lips move over yours, fingers twining around your hips, tugging you flush against him. It shifts, the atmosphere changing, the intensity of his kisses deepening. Heat rises in the room and it has nothing to do with the fire burning in the fireplace. You soak up every soft breath from his lips as you swipe your tongue over his — soak up the breathy moans that pour from him when your fingers glide over the planes of his abdomen, over the softness of his stomach, the hardness of his cock in his jeans.

And it’s there that your experience falters. That nervousness creeps in, because when you jolt back at the unexpectedness of it kicking up in his pants, he presses your palm harder, seeking friction, whispering that it’s okay. That you’re doing everything right.

The nerves ebb. “I - I want it to be good for you,” you say, breathless, “I just - I don’t —”

“It’s already good for me,” he whispers against your collarbone, tugging you down onto the couch, his body hovering above yours. “Pretty sure I’ve never been so hard in my life. But I really just want to make this good for you. Do you trust me?”

With your life. “Yes.”

“Can I take these off?” He slides a palm along your leggings, index finger toying with the band that rests high on your waist.

“Please.”

Deft fingers curl and tug. Slide them down your thighs, baring naked skin. Those same fingers glide over your ankle, up the curve of your leg, the glide of a hip. They toy with the edge of your panties; simple black lace, which you blow out a grateful breath for choosing that morning.

“Still with me?” he rasps, fingers stroking over your lower abdomen, your muscles dancing under the touch.

Hazel eyes, nearly molten honey now in the firelight, meet yours. Flickering with a look you’ve never seen within them before. Lust — for you. At your slow nod, eyes fluttering at the feel of his fingers sliding over the edge of your panties, he pushes the flimsy fabric to the side. Exhales shakily at the first brush of him, robbing your air straight from your lungs.

He drops onto one elbow, palm cradling your head with the softest of touches, lips molding to yours as he slips the first finger inside, your back arching up against the delicious intrusion.

Reality spins around you. Turns on its axis as Steve’s lips move to coast along your abdomen, against hip bone, the inside of your thigh. As your best friend slowly, carefully, reverently slides your underwear down your thighs and whispers a question that has you sighing a soft ‘yes,’ just as your panted breaths turn into cries of his name into the living room. As your heart races when his tongue glides over your clit just so — as he licks at you like it’s his job, a dream come to fruition at last, something he’s wanted to do all his life.

“I - I’m —”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, squeezing at your thigh with his free hand, “it’s just me. You can let go.”

No one has ever touched or kissed you like this. And you’ve never…never spiraled like this either. Never felt so close to the edge of pure, endless pleasure. Never seen the peak, never skirted over the edge, crying out another’s name.

Until now.

Steve knows this. Soothes you through it, crawling back up your body to brush at your cheek as you clutch his shirt tight, gasping breaths warming his flushed skin. As you float back to reality, a hazy mass of trembling limbs, he cups your chin and kisses you soundly, tongue gliding over yours, tasting yourself on him.

“We can stop,” he manages to get out before your fingers slip to grip at the hem of his top, tugging at the fabric, wanting it off.

In one swift movement, he grips the collar from behind his head and rips it free from his form, the ripple of his arms, chest and stomach dancing in your vision. He swoops back down and kisses you anew, body against body. Pulling back, you sit up against the armrest of the couch, Steve leaning back onto his knees. He watches with rounded, heated eyes as you grab at your own sweater and slide it up and off your frame, revealing a matching black bra to the panties that now lay discarded on the floor.

Your fingers reach behind you to grip at the clasp of your bra, appreciating the way Steve’s throat bobs.

“Wait!” His shout has you pausing, your eyes narrowing in fear of rejection, until he eases that nervousness away with the fumbling of his jeans, pushing them down around his ankles before kicking them into the corner of the room. “I want you to be as comfortable as possible. It seemed fair. We’re equal now.”

In one movement, you unclip the bra. Straps flutter around your shoulders, the cups freeing from your breasts, the warmth from the fire skittering along your flesh. Heart racing, you watch as Steve grips at the band of his boxers, pushing them down and off his thighs, the part of him you’ve never seen before slapping against the soft of his stomach. Against the dark hair that trails there. He’s hard and huge and there, the evidence of his desire on display.

Curiosity and reverence has you inching closer on the couch, settling your palms against his abdomen, gliding up and over his chest and shoulders, down his biceps, along the backs of his hands. Nervously, you raise one to your breast, gasping as his fingers cup the fullness of it in his palm, cradling it, brushing over a nipple with a thumb as his forehead drops against yours.

No one has ever touched you like this before. Before, it had been a rush and a hurry in the back seat of someone’s car. A flurry of movement. But Steve’s gentle touches roam your body, his other hand coming to cup the other breast, sliding down your sternum, along your stomach, between your thighs, making you whimper against his lips. Hesitant fingers reach out, trail along the rippling muscle of his abdomen, over the line of hair beyond his naval, the long and thick cock lingering in the space between you.

A trembling palm curls around him and experimentally moves, a gesture brought on by human instinct alone, an upward and downward stroke that has Steve’s forehead falling to your shoulder, rasping out a curse into your skin.

“Like this?” you ask through a pleasant sigh as he curls that digit within you in the way that had you crying for him moments ago, marveling at the way he grapples at your side with his free hand, fingers pressing tight to the fullest point of your hips.

“J-just like that, honey,” he stutters, lifting his head again to claim your mouth in a fervent kiss, swallowing your pretty noises. “Are we really — is this really happening?”

“You’re not dreaming,” you giggle, shrieking as he shifts you both over so you’re rolling onto the floor, onto the endless mountain of blankets and pillows below. “Steve!”

Broad palms press against your cheeks, lips falling against yours, a hum spilling from you. Without a moment to even try and stop your head from spinning, Steve drops kiss after kiss to your skin. The curve of your neck, the line of your collarbone. The dip of your sternum. A tongue glides over a pebbled nipple, bringing it into his mouth, hazel eyes locking on your own with a blazing heat behind him as another callused palm kneads the other. You could unravel just like that, with his eyes on you, drinking you in like he is now. But you know you want more. You want it all with him. Want to feel every inch of him that’s presently resting against your inner thigh, want to feel him inside, closer than he’s ever been before.

“Steve,” you rasp, curling your fingers in his long tresses, “I want — no, I need you inside me.”

He shifts up onto his elbows, peering down into your eyes. A shudder licks along your spine, the realization of what you’re both about to do dawning. The importance of this moment; a moment that’ll change everything you know about your relationship fully and completely. Where there might be nervousness, you only feel solidity in your choice — excitement, to finally be taking this step, this leap, with Steve.

“Please,” you whisper, feeling your cheeks and chest warm under his gaze.

A palm comes up to seek his face, brushing back the hairs that fall over his forehead, so messy and perfectly him. With a slow exhale, Steve curls his palm around the back of one of your knees, parting you for him, lifting it a bit into a bend. Instinct has your ankle hooking around the back of his knee, tugging him closer, shuddering at the feel of him against your slick center.

“I’m on the pill,” you blurt out quickly, “And you know my experience is…”

“I want you to know right now that this is the best night of my life,” he promises, knuckles brushing along your temple, quelling your nerves, “you could never disappoint me, okay?”

A nod.

“I’m clean, and I’ve never —” he gestures to where you both lay bare, “without a condom. I just want you to be sure. We can stop at any point.”

“I want this,” you tell him, curling your ankle tighter around his thigh, the heel digging into his muscle to draw him closer.

He grabs himself in hand, those dark eyes locking on yours. “Look at me,” he whispers, and you feel him nudge at your entrance, “it’s just us,” and he’s sinking in.

Slowly, so, so slowly.

“P-perfect,” you stutter out, clutching at a forearm as he inches in a bit more, that unfamiliar burn making you wince. Worry clouds his eyes, but you shake your head, “just…go slow, okay?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He pushes a little further, gauging your reactions, clutching at the bend of your thigh, thumb stroking along the inside of your knee lovingly. Another inch, and you lean up to kiss him tenderly. “Ah, shit —”

“W-what?”

Anxiety fills your tone, and he shakes his head rapidly to assuage your fears. “No. No. You just feel too good. I’m trying to make this last.”

Heat blooms in your chest at his words, hips rolling experimentally from beneath him, that burning dulling into a pleasurable fullness. The delicious stretch of him giving way to something…new. Something different. Twine spills out before you, a coil, a line you feel growing tighter with every passing moment. He gasps out a breath. A hot puff against your collarbone as his head falls, wispy hairs teasing along your warm skin.

“More,” you pant, clutching at his shoulder as he fully seats himself inside, pussy clenching around him at the newness of being so full of Steve.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You nod, head falling back as he pulls back, nearly pulling out, and drives back in. In and out, in and out, beginning something you know will forever change your relationship. “Oh god.” A gasp, as he repeats the motion again and again, brushing against a part of you that you didn’t even know existed.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he grounds out. He pulls back, pulls out, and you nearly cry with the loss of him, until he smirks and pushes back in, punching your breath straight from your lungs. “It’s like you were made for me.” You could cry, you could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as you lose yourself to this, to this moment — to him. “Tell me you’re mine. You’re finally mine.”

“I’m yours,” you promise, keening as he lifts your thigh higher onto his hip, driving into you in a way that makes white flash behind your eyes, “and you’re mine.”

The words you want to say bubble on your lips. The three words with the power to change everything. The three you’ve denied yourself all these years in fear of the rejection that might come should you ever utter them. But you feel them with every beat of your heart, with every roll of his hips, with every kiss he presses to your lips as you inch closer and closer to release.

And it’s there. Right there. That elusive thing you’ve only heard about with friends in mixed conversation. That blooming low in your belly, the unfurling as he continues to grind into you over and over again, the flame licking in the space where you’re irrevocably connected to him now in a way you’ve never been before.

“Steve — I’m —”

“I’m close too,” he grunts, chest pressing against yours, lips at your cheek. “Let go with me, yeah?”

It ripples through you with a broken sob, and the feeling of Steve’s hips faltering in their rhythm as he finishes, warmth spilling into you. Hearts race. Mouths come together in the middle, foreheads pushing against one another. Your hands tangle together like whispered secrets on knitted blankets, against pillows littering the floors.

Neither of you pulls away, bodies only rolling enough to face one another, his softening cock still inside of you. Fingers trail along his bicep as his other arm slides beneath your head, cradling you there. It’s all sweet and soft kisses against skin. His mouth at your brow, your cheek, your jaw…lips. Different and yet it feels like something that’s always been meant to be. A part of the two of you never tapped into.

Until now.

“So…”

“So…” You nuzzle your nose against his, blinking up at his tired, blissfully hazy eyes.

“That was…”

“Perfect?” you finish, gliding your fingers through the hair curling around his ear.

“Perfect,” he agrees, index finger gliding up and down the line of your spine, “everything. Tired, hmm?”

He watches the flutter of your eyes. The telltale yawn that pours from you. The liquid form of your limbs draped over his own. Your head rests over his chest and fingers dig into his hip.

“Let me take care of you and then we can pass out, okay?”

He parts from you with a whine, limbs aching a little as you stretch and he disappears into the bathroom, only to come back with a warm washcloth to clean you with. It’s tossed across the room a moment later, the man of your heart rearranging the pillows around the floor into a better makeshift mattress, blankets already tucked low around your hips as you find him again, your bare chest pressing against his.

“Steve?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“I just want to remind you that you’ve always been enough,” you tell him softly. Quietly. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

“You have me,” he promises, squeezing you tighter. “I’m yours.”

And you’re his.

A beautiful thing that curls around you both as you slip into sleep.

You’re grateful for a holiday weekend, because for the next three days, neither of you leave the comfort of the bedroom. It’s there that you learn every inch of Steve. That you remember the way his fingers trace your skin, how he feels when he’s inside of you, over you and under you, what it looks like when you drive him to finish, the way he looks at you when you writhe beneath him, hands fisted in his hair.

For days, all you know is that. The complete and utter bliss of a new relationship — despite the fact neither of you have given things a title yet. And even so, you hardly feel like you need to. You’d both said those words: you’re mine, and I’m yours. Wholly and completely. In your heart you know it, in your mind, and in your body. This is what you’ve been dreaming of for years, this is what you know you want.

He’s holding you now, your back to his chest, his fingers stroking you between your thighs, the fullness of him sliding in from behind. Another arm loops over your chest, resting over your heart, keeping you close. And you pinch your eyes shut at the feeling of it, at the sound of your sweat slick skin against his, the place where you’re joined, the press of his lips against your spine, your shoulder.

“You always.” A kiss. “Feel so.” Another kiss. “Good.” He tips your chin up and kisses your lips, swallowing your moan as you drive your hips back against his, wanting him deeper, wanting to crawl inside him if you could. “Taking me so well, beautiful.” A whine. “Gonna come for me, baby? Want it.”

You’ve been at it for hours. Or it feels like hours. He’d woken up that morning insistent on feeding you, before falling back into bed with you for the third day in a row. Had kissed every inch of you before rolling over and watching you with hooded eyes as you sunk down on him, robbing him of his very breath. That had been a frantic thing, hips rolling over him, his hands digging crescent moons into your sides, little medals for the honor of watching Steve completely crumble beneath you when his orgasm snuck up on him, knowing you’d done that.

Another whine punches from your lungs. Stolen from you as fire licks up your spine and you’re engulfed with it, clutching at his forearm and crying his name with your release, forehead slumping into your pillow as he follows soon after, hips slowing to a stop as he tugs you flush against his chest, whispering your praises against the skin of your cheek, his fingers dancing along your sweaty temple.

“I think that was our best yet,” you laugh, stroking along the hairs against the back of his arm, relishing in the shiver that ripples from him in the aftershocks of his own orgasm. “How about we shower and grab some breakfast at the diner or something?”

“Are you up to grab a tree with me for the holidays too?” At your nod, he grins against your shoulder, “maybe some ice skating and hot chocolate at the rink?”

“Is this our first date?” you tease, glancing over your shoulder to press a lingering kiss to his lips.

He hums against you, breathing a sigh, and you know the contentment pouring from him because it mirrors your own. “If you want it to be. As much as I want to stay here forever, I'm pretty sure our friends are worried we’ve fallen off the face of the earth.”

“We kind of did,” you muse, recalling the parting words on Thanksgiving just days ago now. “I haven’t slept a wink in days.”

“Says the woman reaping all the benefits in the form of endless orgasms,” he teases, laying a love bite against your shoulder, pulling away from you to rise up onto his feet, nodding his head toward the shower. “Come on.”

“No funny business,” you tease, curling a blanket around your shoulders as you follow him into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

You only make it five minutes in before you break that promise by sinking down onto your knees.

…And naturally, he repays the favor after.

——

People notice Steve wherever he goes. As the town handyman, he earns a bit of attention. Smiles from those that pass by, waves as he walks down the street, calls of his name from across parking lots. So you suppose it should come as no surprise when you meander through the endless rows of trees, your hand in Steve’s, earning a bunch of stares of your own.

For a while, you’ve been simply the girl who follows in his wake. A familiar face around town while you’ve been here, and a figment of a past time to those who had been around much longer. Now, you were swiftly approaching what you knew to be a permanent fixture in the town all over again.

It feels natural — the weight of his palm in your own, fingers tangled, arms swinging in the space between the two of you, dressed in similar outfits. It’s nothing unusual in comparison to your years long friendship, though now you know what his lips feel like against every inch of you, you know that his heart against your spine thrums like a perfect tattoo while his arms circle you, you know what the weight of him above you feels like.

And even so, you earn the curious gazes of wandering eyes. The glances from those trying to garner what is happening here. You don’t mind it, though. Don’t mind the way people wonder, because you already know the truth within your heart. The depth of the feelings he has for you mirror your own, as sure as the sun rises and sets every day. The realization that this is the start to what you hope might be forever.

“How about this one?” Steve asks.

An hour later you’re both dragging a tree into his living room and decorating it in dozens of shiny lights and bulbs. He kisses you long and slow, fingers in your sweater, foreheads pressed in close, hearts even closer.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper, staring up at the tree, beautifully lit and adorned with love.

“It is,” Steve says back, but he’s not staring at the tree, he’s staring right at you instead.

——

The Hideout is bustling with customers. Endless rows of children constructing and decorating gingerbread houses at one table, while parents and family members alike mill about at the other tables, conversations about the upcoming holidays filtering through your ears as you pass by, handing off drinks and food.

Steve’s not here yet. A fact you notice as you watch the table of your friends grow, the group bent low together, beaming at what the other is saying, caught up in their company as day turns into night.

You’re finishing up handing off water to a table of teenagers when you notice Abi waving you over, a weary look in her eyes. It’s when your gaze travels southward you notice the shaggy blonde curls that you couldn’t forget even if you tried. Nor the pristine suit and tailored pants, the too expensive watch, that tie cinched around his neck. Green eyes drift your way from the bar, arms crossing over a toned chest. Chiseled cheekbones give way to blonde stubble, a messier look than you’re used to on Clark’s conventionally attractive features.

His eyes narrow at your appearance. To him, you’re wearing no more than a pair of jeans you bought off of a clearance rack, and a black sweater with a hole in one sleeve after you’d gotten it caught on Steve’s truck handle. He’s seen you in designer gowns, shoes, decked to the nines with jewelry, looking like the ever dutiful daughter. And now — now his eyes roam your form with distaste, the curl of his lip making your stomach drop.

“I can ask him to leave,” Abi murmurs low against your ear as you slip behind the bar to join her, “just say the word, and he’s gone. Eddie wouldn’t mind if I toss him out. He’s kind of an asshole anyway. Asked me if I had a specific bottle of wine, and scoffed when I said we didn’t. I almost told him he could shove the credit card he slapped against the bar up his ass.”

“Sounds about right,” you grumble, giving her hand a little squeeze. “I’ll be okay. And if not, and you catch me ready to throw a glass and lose my job —”

“I’ll turn the other way and pretend I didn’t see it.”

Offering her a smile, you slip back out and round the bar, grabbing Clark’s sleeve and tugging him to a smaller table positioned away from everyone else. From here, you can see Steve when he arrives and escape if need be. Huffing, you cross your arms over your chest and tilt your head up, staring into that blank stare.

“So this is where you ran off to,” he tuts, snickering, “it’s…charming.”

“It’s where I grew up,” you tell him flatly, “it’s home.”

“Home is in the city,” he says, leaning up onto his elbows, hand coming to curl over your own. Your eyes narrow at the contact, at the feeling of his finger cradling the back of your palm. “Come home. Stop this, please? Your family misses you, your friends miss you — believe it or not, I miss you.”

You bark out an incredulous laugh. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Darling…” The hand around yours tightens, and you know he’s trying to narrow your window of escape, to ensure you stay rooted in place. “We had fun together, didn’t we?”

“At events, sure.”

He was kind enough. Was willing to laugh with you, to joke and tease, to talk. But there was nothing of any sort of romantic nature beneath the surface. Your marriage was intended for monetary purposes and those alone.

“You hardly even gave us a chance.”

“Clark, we were in an arrangement,” you remind him. “A mutually beneficial agreement for both of us.”

“Which has since fallen through.”

“And I am sorry about that —”

“Then come home,” he says again, eyes intent on your face. “Come. Home.”

“This is my home,” you whisper, catching the sight of Steve walking by in the window. His eyes immediately narrow at the sight of Clark across from you.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Clark lets out a bitter laugh as Steve appears in the doorway, approaching your table cautiously. “This is the guy you ran out on me with. Him? You’re choosing him. What can he offer you that I cannot?”

“Love, Clark,” you say, voice breaking at the end, “I love him…and I — I think he loves me. So yes, I’m choosing him. I’m choosing to stay here…with him.”

He fixes Steve with a hard stare, mouth parting slightly, settling back into a firm line. “You love him?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, and it’s watery. A broken off sob at the realization of your admission. “I do. We wouldn’t be happy together. You know that. I mean…you were kissing Christina on our wedding day.”

“She’s, ah, that’s…complicated.”

“But she means something to you,” you tell him, giving his hand a squeeze. “We wouldn’t be happy. You know we wouldn’t. Tell me you can see that.”

His palm slides down his face, head shaking slowly. “Your father’s company —”

“You’re an amazing surgeon,” you remind Clark, “and my father will come around. Eventually. I’m certain. And…maybe when he doesn’t hate me for making the choices I’ve made, I can send over a glowing recommendation. We don’t have to do things just because it’s our family’s way. We can choose our own happiness.”

Clark leans back a bit, his hand falling away from yours, fingers curling around the chair beside him to make room for a perplexed looking Steve Harrington at the table. “Can I at least say hello the man my fiancée ran out on me — on our wedding day, no less — for?”

“Clark,” Steve mutters with a nod, sinking down onto the chair beside you, arm curling around your shoulders. “I’m Steve. Steve Harrington. And, uh, sorry about your wedding day.”

Clark reaches over to grip his hand. “You’re really not sorry, though,” he chuckles heartily, shaking Steve’s hand.

Steve grins, because no. No, he’s not at all sorry, and you couldn’t be happier.

The three of you sit there in that restaurant for an hour, talking about plans for the future. About Christina and Steve. Christina, who is from a not so affluent family. A family his family doesn’t quite approve of, but he loves her. A fact you could even tell after seeing them together in their embrace.

In the end, Clark decides to head back to the city with the intention of making things right with the woman he loves. You also send him on the mission to talk to your parents, to convince them neither of you wants the marriage, and to let them know you’re okay since they don’t wish to contact you as it is.

Once he’s gone, you’re left to finish up cleaning your station, later announcing to your friends that you and Steve are heading for a little walk. Neither of you wants to stick around at the moment. Not when there’s so much to talk about.

Without him even saying anything, you know he’s overheard what you said to Clark. That you loved him. That you love him. Nervousness wells within you as you tug your jacket closer to your form, reaching out to lace your fingers with Steve’s, your hands swinging in the space between the two of you. Part of you wonders if you’ll ever get used to this. Part of you doesn’t, wanting merely to rest in the excitement of finally having the one thing you’ve both always wanted come to fruition.

“So…that was nice,” you say, peering up into his eyes.

The moon shines above, but Steve’s eyes are on your face. A lingering look you feel all the way down to your toes. “He’s still an asshole.” He swallows. Here it is. “Did you mean everything back there?”

“Which part?”

He pauses on the sidewalk, hands curling into your belt loops, tugging you against him. “Well, for starters, the part where you said this is your home now.”

“If you don’t mind having a roommate for a little while longer. At least, until I get back on my feet. Pretty sure my inheritance is not happening ever.”

His fingers cup your jaw, mouth brushing lazily over yours. “I’m not kicking my girlfriend out.”

It’s the first time he’s called you that, no fanfare, no need for explanation. And it feels right down to your marrow.

“Are you…asking me to officially move in?” you question, head tilting back a bit to gauge his reaction to your words.

“Are you saying yes?” He bounces on the heels of his feet a little, your palms resting against his stomach.

“I mean, an endless sleepover with my best friend sounds pretty great.”

He beams. “And then there’s that other part of the conversation I walked in on.”

“What part might that have been?” you prompt, leaning up onto your toes, biting at your bottom lip.

His fingers slide around your hips, slipping into the back pockets of your denim jeans. “The part where you said you love me.”

“I’ve loved you for years, Steve,” you tell him honestly, “I’ve…been in love with you for years. I’ve just been waiting for you to catch up.”

His nose runs down the side of yours gently. “I’m in love with you too.”

He says it so quickly, all in a rush, like he simply wants to breathe the words into existence. To make them known. To speak the secrets that have been lingering in the silent moments between the two of you for years. To give them the voice they deserve. To set them into motion, to flight, to give them the breadth to roam freely.

“All this time?” you ask, swallowing the tears that threaten to spill.

“Yeah.” He nods. “All this time, honey. Always, if you’ll let me.”

You trust that his words are true. You know within your heart he means every single one of them. You welcome the free fall, and what a beautiful, safe space to land you’ve found in Steve.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” A kiss brushes the tip of your nose.

A giggle. “Deal.”

——

Two years later…

Sunlight streams in through the bedroom window. Warms your skin as a yawn spills from your lips, arms stretching against pillows, head nuzzling deeper into the mattress's downy embrace.

A warm arm slides in around your waist, a palm gliding over your stomach. “How are my girls doing?” It’s the voice of your husband that stirs you, chest rumbling against your spine, thumb stroking along your skin.

“We were just taking a nap,” you sigh, rolling over to face the man, “you finished for the day?”

“Yeah,” he says, leaning over to look at the scrunched up newborn resting near your hip. “Uncle Eddie and Aunt Abi’s new house has a nice deck now. They also decided to keep the swing in the backyard just for when you grow up a little bit more, Summer.”

Summer sleepily stares up at her father as he carefully lifts her into the crook of his elbow, bouncing her a little to help her settle when her face wrinkles with the beginnings of a soft cry.

“She’s bigger than she was this morning,” he huffs, the hairs that are getting a little too long on his head now puffing upward with the hard breath.

Giggling, you roll over to lean against his shoulder, running the pads of your finger along her chubby cheek. “She’s the same as she was this morning.”

“Do you think she missed me?” He glances up, hopeful.

“Always,” you reassure him, knowing he hates going back to work after the initial few weeks he took off to spend time with his newborn daughter. “We got an invitation to Clark and Christina’s wedding.”

“At least that wedding won’t end with a runaway bride situation.”

“Hey, that runaway bride became your wife.”

Your own wedding was a year ago now. And because Steve had helped nearly everyone around town, it became a huge event. Nearly everyone in town had gathered around as you walked down a grassy aisle to the man who always had your heart. It was there he pledged forever, a promise to keep you close and your heart closer for all of time to come.

Your parents had even come, deciding that love truly mattered above all else — though a lot of that was thanks to Clark and Christina’s influence. Those two had even become closer friends to you than you ever thought imaginable. Just four people who had come together in the strangest of circumstances, finding that sometimes the person who people deemed ‘best’ for you wasn't actually the right one — and that choosing love would overcome any other obstacle that might try to get in your way.

“That she did,” he says, leaning down to brush a kiss to your forehead.

And now you had an extension of that, in the form of a bleary eyed baby staring up at the two of you. Equal parts him and you, and everything you could have ever dreamed of and more. “Come on, I have something to show you! Summer can come too.”

“You just don’t want to let her go.”

“I never do,” he coos, leaning down to brush a kiss over her forehead, “she’s like her Mom. Has me wrapped around her finger, and she’s not even two months old.”

“I’ll say a prayer for her future suitors now —”

“Hey — she is not dating until she’s thirty and that’s final.”

You shove at him lightly as he leads you down the hall and into the newly extended part of the home. There’s a little sunroom, full to the brim with plants, and just outside on the back porch, he’s added a beautiful wooden swing that overlooks the water.

“Steve…”

“I know you like to read out here, but I figured now that we have Summer…” He settles down on one of the cushions, making room against his hip for you to curl up next to him, watching as the sun begins to set over Hawkins. “We could come out here…as a family. I have more plans too. A seating area over there for when we have company. Maybe some stuff for when Nancy and Jonathan bring their son over for a play date. A treehouse over there.”

“I love it, Steve.”

“I love you,” he says, brushing his lips against yours ever so softly, just as Summer starts to whine in the crook of his elbow. “Oh no, sweetheart, shhh shh. Don’t cry…this mountain I must climb…feels like a world upon my shoulders…”

“Oh, come on,” you laugh as he starts to sing, sides shaking with the memory of your return to Hawkins so long ago now.

“Through the clouds I see love shine —” He continues, and Summer stares up at him like he’s hung the stars in the sky for her. “It keeps me warm as life grows colder.”

“In my life, there’s been heartache and pain,” you sing along, snuggling closer into his side, looping your arm around his and lacing your fingers with his own. “I don't know if I can face it again.”

You both break into a fit of giggles as the both of you sing-whisper out in equally as horrendous voices so as to not wake the baby that’s starting to doze off, “I wanna know what love iiiiis. I want you to show meee.”

You turn to face him, staring intently in his eyes, the song falling off, along with the laughter, as Summer’s eyes flutter shut. “Thank you for this. For all of it. This life we have together. For choosing me every day. Us. Our family.”

“Thank you,” he breathes back against your lips, kissing you as the sun sinks further along the sky, soft and pink and golden — just like the life before you and the one to come.

——

[chelseypprimrose]

Handy With His Hands / handyman!negan x housewife!reader / 18+ / pre-apocalypse

Warnings ⚠️ : unprotected sex, adultery, oral (f receiving), rough sex elements

Summary: being a housewife is quite dull, especially when your husband is a corporate jackass- until a sexy handyman comes to fix your shower.

A/N: I got this little saucy story in my head while reading some handyman!joel miller stories and I just thought: Negan + handyman? so hot! my stories are always something out of a cheesy porno scenario but idec , i know i’m never going to have these fantasies happen to me in the real world so i believe it’s self care to let my dulu stories write out on paper 🤭 please enjoy 🤍

not proof read yet 🫣

“can you please just get someone to come and look at that thing? i’m sick of having to take cold showers!” you exclaimed, your voice travelling from the kitchen to the living room where your husband was on a phone call. “i’m on the phone, honey.” he replied back, hidden annoyance in his tone, recognisable to you but if anyone else was to hear, they’d think it to be cheerful. you cursed him out in your head, counting down the hours until he was going to be gone on his long business trip. finally, you’d be able to take a break from your expected housewife duties, one of your favourite things to do when your husband was away, catch a few rays in your back garden, take a dip naked in the swimming pool. you had to find thrills where you could as your life was a revolving door of the same boring routine, day in and day out. you craved for something, some sort of adventure to come into your life and completely turn it on its head, you were still waiting on that day unfortunately.

you’d been married to your husband for around three years now, even if it felt like forty. it had been a fairytale at the beginning, he’d get you flowers every week, freshly picked, take you out for dinner at least four times a month, he’d seemed like the perfect man to get married to, until you were locked in, bounded by the commitment and paperwork. he’d neglected those responsibilities, it was rare for him to even take you out for a date night anymore, it was usually just forcing you to go to dinner meetings so he could show you off to potential clients, having to spend your evening being hit on and leered over by slimy old men, your body used to close business deals. always buying you some diamond necklace or earrings after the fact, to keep you happy. you spent most of your time at home when not being used as a dress up doll for your husband, cooking, cleaning, keeping the house in perfect condition - not that he ever noticed.

“alright, i’ve got someone coming round to look at the shower, i’ve got to leave for my flight dear. i love you. i’ll give you a call when i land.” he says, his suitcase rolling on four wheels beside him, his head coming down for a peck on your lips, absolutely no spark or electricity through the kiss, not like it used to be. you mumbled a love you back, as you watched him walk out of the front door, a sigh of relief when the door shut behind him. you took your apron off, placing it on the hook next to the cabinets in the kitchen. walking upstairs into your shared bedroom, you quickly changed out of your clothes, putting on a new two piece bikini you’d treated yourself to a couple weeks ago, topping it off with a pair of sunglasses to keep the sun out of your eyes. grabbing a towel on your way out, you slid the patio door open, folding out the towel and placing it on the sun lounger, sitting down on it and lounging out. connecting your phone to the bluetooth speaker outside, you decided to put on your relaxing mix, hoping it would help you get a small nap in before the repairman was here.

it was really hard to get one on such short notice, how your husband had been able to get one the same day baffled you, probably pulled some strings with one of his business buddies you thought. while you had good money in the bank, you despised how your husband would treat other people that weren’t in the same tax bracket as you both were. you were the more generous person in the relationship, giving to various charities when you could, even though it annoyed your husband to no end when you did. in a selfish way, you revealed in it, any subtle way you could piss him off without making it obvious that was your intention, you’d jump at the chance. giving money to those who needed it AND being able to make him angry - win win scenario.

you’d been sat in the back yard for around a hour, lightly snoring as you went in and out of a light sleep, you hadn’t heard the doorbell go the multiple times it had, being awoken when the wooden side gate hit the fence with a loud crash. “holy shit!” you shouted, pulling your sunglasses off your eyes to look towards the gate, seeing a man standing there with a large toolbox in his hand. “hey, didn’t mean to scare you doll. no one answered the doorbell and i saw the gate was unlocked so.” you got yourself up from the sun lounger, taking a couple steps towards the man so you could get a better look at him. damn he was fine, a tight white t-shirt with black cargo pants, covered in what looked like dust, white paint, other substances you could only assume he’d gotten from his line of work. a tattoo peeking out from underneath his sleeve, one on his forearm as well, steel-toe capped boots making slight clink noises as he moved on the concrete path underneath him, you thought he was too attractive to be a handyman, a ‘magic mike’ dancer sure, you give over everything in your bank account to see that little fantasy come to life. his hair slicked back and beard trimmed neatly, your eyes couldn’t help naturally scanning over his muscular, dominating frame.

“hi! you must be the handyman my husband ordered?” you asked, eyebrow raising as you put your hand out for a handshake. “well, i work for the same company, i’m Negan.” he introduced himself as he grasped your hand, meeting yours. his hand felt slightly calloused, a side effect from his job you gathered, you couldn’t deny how sexy they made you feel, being used to the smoothness of your husbands, it was a unlikely turn on. “oh right! i’m y/n. thank you for coming on such short notice, i’m absolutely sick of having cold showers, don’t know how much more i can take of it.” you joked, a small smile sat on your face. “i’ll show you where it is so you can get cracking, i bet there’s more things you’d rather be doing, so hopefully it won’t take too long.” you motioned for him to follow you, walking through the patio door.

Negan followed you into the house, unbeknownst to you, his eyes glued to your small bikini bottoms, showing off your ass in what could only be described as gorgeous. he knew it was wrong, looking at the bosses wife in such a way but he couldn’t help himself, becoming a recent single man again, he hadn’t had the time to get back into the dating scene which in turn meant he wasn’t getting any action and it was driving him nuts. he was only a man, when he’d got the call from your husband, he wasn’t expecting his wife to be home alone, dressed in a bikini, looking good enough to devour.

you got to the en suite bathroom, opening the door, showing him where the controls were. “here it is, i have no clue what’s wrong with it, it just won’t let any hot water through.” you stated, you’d never been good with stuff like this, your husband had always had people on call to fix problems around the house. “i’ll be fine doll, i’ve dealt with this problem loads of times before.” he waved it off with a laugh. “would you like anything to drink? to eat?” you questioned, putting on your best innocent smile. “i wouldn’t mind a coffee, doll but don’t make one on my account.” he beamed back at you, turning away to grab something from his toolbox, you took a look at his tight cargos as he bent down, they shaped the muscularity of his thighs perfectly, his ass looking perfect in them. “i’m sure i can rustle something up for you, how do you take it?” you asked, a slight smirk on your face from how you’d worded the question to him. “no milk, two sugars please. i like it sweet.” he bantered back, leaving you to saunter off to the kitchen.

you returned back to him, slightly boiling coffee in hand, placing it on the large counter where the sink and mirror were placed. “so, how long have you worked with my husband? i don’t think i’ve heard about you before?” you quizzed, knowing the names of your husbands many business partners and staff, you’d have remembered a unique name like Negan, you were sure. “ah not long, used to be a gym teacher before this job, needed a change and i’ve always been good with my hands.” you laughed, the image of Negan bossing around a load of pre teens making you smile. “i wouldn’t have pegged you as a gym teacher, to be honest with you!” he laughed right back at you, turning his head to look towards you. “yeah, a lot of people have told me that, i loved working with the little shits all day, gave them a run for their money, i can tell you that much.” he grimaced, realising what he’d done. “sorry doll, don’t mean to swear, pretty unprofessional of me.” you giggled again, shaking your head at him. “i don’t mind, stop worrying! it’s nice to be in the company of a man who doesn’t change himself to suit other people.” Negan took notice of that, wondering if you were talking about your husband. “well, that’s fucking me all over doll. so, what do you do?” you sighed, knowing how what you said next would come across. “housewife, i stay at home, look after the house and get taken to business dinners when i’m needed.” he noticed your drop in tone, he could sense that you weren’t really happy with that but he didn’t want to speak out of turn. “well your doing a bang up job, this place is immaculate.” you blushed, your husband had never complimented your hard work, always just expecting the house to be sorted, never thinking to thank you for your efforts. “thanks, it’s nice to hear that. i’ll let you get on, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

it was about a hour later when Negan had finally finished the shower, it now letting out hot water again. “you are a angel, finally i can have a nice shower!” you exclaimed, hands clapping enthusiastically, Negan laughing at your actions. “absolutely no problem doll.” he smiled at you, trying to escape his thoughts of you taking said shower, the bubbles dripping down your body as you washed them away, how good you’d look naked. “so, stop me if you have somewhere to be but i just got finished making dinner, i forgot i was alone so there is more than enough if you wanted to stay for some?” you asked sheepishly, expecting him to decline, a young single man probably had better things to do on a friday night than sit in with a boring housewife for dinner. “i’d love that doll. let me just take my tools back to my truck.” you freaked out internally, you were excited to spend some more time with this devilishly charming man, he was a breath of fresh air compared to the people you had to hang around with when you were with your husband. always other couples that were all business talk, how many sales they’d made that year and how much they were getting for their bonuses, it became exhausting over time.

you plated up the chicken florentine, along with some vegetables and sauce, bring the plate from the counter to the dining room table, the dimmed lights almost highlighting your body, you’d changed into a pretty sundress while he’d gone out to the truck, deciding a bikini wasn’t proper dinner attire, not bothering with underwear, if your plan was to go your way. placing the plates on the table, you grabbed a bottle of wine from the vast array of choice from the wine cooler and glasses for you both. you took a seat just as Negan walked back through the door, his eyes rising up as he smelt the food from the table. “fuck me doll, that smells good!” he clapped his hands together as he sat down beside you, starting to eat. “i hope you like it, i didn’t know if you ate meat but…” you trailed off. “no i do, i’m not one of those vegan pussies, don’t worry.” you laughed, his vulgar language causing a stir from within you. you poured out a glass of wine for you each before tucking in yourself. “i’ve got to say, i’ve never had such hospitality from anyone before, i’m always called to clients houses but the most i’m offered is a drink and then they leave me alone to work, this is a nice change.” you smiled, hoping you hadn’t been too much in his hair, you just couldn’t stop yourself, you wanted to know more about the intriguing man. “well, i aim to please. hospitality gets drilled into you as a housewife, it’s sort of all i’m good for.” you said, taking a sip of your wine, feeling like you were softly venting a little due to feeling comfortable in Negan’s company. “i’m sure your good at other things doll, better than the shitheads i normally encounter in this job.”

“well i understand that, i’ve met my husband’s clientele and they aren’t my type of people. always boasting about themselves, not caring about others, i hate it really.” you confessed, knowing you were opening up to much to a man you didn’t really know but you felt at ease, like you could speak freely, unlike when you were in your husbands company. you and Negan had finished eating, you finished the last of your wine, taking your plates to the dishwasher, bending down to place them inside, not remembering you had no panties on, fully on show for Negan and he’d definitely noticed. he’d almost done a double take, seeing your pretty pussy on display, a grin widening on his face as he understood the message. he got up, walking towards you as you raised up again, going to put the cooking utensils in the dishwasher when his large hands wrapped around your waist, you turned to look at him.

“you know doll, i think i should thank you for such a lovely evening. don’t you?” you looked up at him through your eyelashes, your chest heaving up and down with deep breaths as your heart began to beat irregularly at the closeness of such a gorgeous man. “i don’t know… what did you have in mind?” you questioned, your arms coming to meet at the top of his neck, wrapping around to pull him closer as your faces were inches away from each other. “i think it would be fair payment to screw your pretty little brains out, right over this countertop.” you moaned out at his statement, his hand coming to tug at your hair softly, before yanking harder, testing the waters. “i think, you should put your money where your mouth is, Negan.”

he growled, backing you up to the countertop that was behind your back, slightly pushing you against it. he captured your lips in a heated kiss, his hand still pulling at your hair as you whimpered into the kiss, silently begging for his hard touch. no one had ever been so rough with you, husband included. “i know how much you’ve wanted this, don’t think i didn’t notice how you aren’t wearing any panties, you were planning for this, weren’t you doll?” he whispered against your lips, his other hand now going underneath your skirt, dancing on your thighs before he got to your wet heat. “i don’t just offer dinner to anyone that comes to the house, you know.” you whimpered out, feeling his finger tips on your clit, moving small circles on top of it. “i’m hungry for dessert now doll, open those pretty thighs for me sweetheart.” he lifted you up onto the counter, your legs sat on his shoulders as you lifted your dress up enough for your whole pussy on display for Negan. his tongue met your hot skin, licking a stripe up your core, starting slow. your hand came down to meet his hair, gripping tightly around the strands that had fallen loose from his slicked back style. you moaned out, not used to the feeling of having such a skilled man between your legs, savouring every movement you felt him make. so methodical and well thought.

he sucked on your clit harshly, you squeezing his head slightly as your thighs contorted together, trying desperately to grind yourself closer to his tongue, chasing the blissfully sinful feeling that was racing through your body. “fuck-fuck! Negan, i’m not- going to last much longer if you keep doing that! fuck!” you panted and whined at the impending arrival of your orgasm, he chuckled at your confession, pulling away from you to back up. “i want to feel you doll, i want to feel you clench around my dick, turn around for me.” he purred, letting your stumbling legs fall back onto the ground as you turned to face the counter, your nipples standing erected through the thin material of the dress, contrasting against the cold marble.

he dropped his cargo pants, letting them fall down to his ankles, his impressively large piece now hanging out, you felt the bulbous tip playing around on your entrance, running up and down your folds at Negan’s movements. he finally entered you, holding a tight grip on your hips, nails slightly digging into your soft flesh, letting your pussy stretch out to accommodate his girth. he pulls out, and slides back in with little to no hesitation, finding a happy pace between rough and soft. you moan out, one hand coming to wrap around your throat as he moved his pace to more rough. “fuck doll, you fit me so well- taking me so good baby.” you whined out again. “please, please! harder! i need you, Negan- fuck!” he grinned at your begging, leaving your lips like a pretty song. he obliged, upping the ante to absolutely rock you.

“RING! RING!”

you gasped, pulling your head up from the counter to see the light illuminating from the landline phone situated near the window, your husbands name on the caller id.

“fuck, fuck! stop i need to answer him!” you tried to manoeuvre your body to grab the phone that was finger tips away from you, pushing your body closer before negan reached out over you to grab it.

“better answer it before he gets suspicious dollface.” he clicked the green button, passing it down to you, your face bright red with nervousness.

“hey-hey honey.” you breathed out, finding it hard not to make pleasurable sounds while Negan was still fucking you rough, you could barely talk with his hand still grasped around your throat. he showed no mercy.

“i just got to my hotel, did Negan manage to fix the shower?” your husband asked, you allowed a small grin to peak out on your face, thanking god your husband couldn’t see you right now. “yeah, he did a really good job, such a nice guy!” you drabbled on, hoping he wouldn’t ask many more questions, fearing you couldn’t stay quiet for much longer. “that’s great, so i’m going to try and get some sleep before the big meeting tomorrow. just wanted to let you know i got here okay. i love you.” he said, you almost dropped the phone from how rough your stomach was hitting the side of the counter, Negan relishing in the predicament you’d found yourself in. “ok-okay honey. i love you t-too.” you gasped as Negan proceeded to smack your ass hard, the sting catching you off guard, making it harder to find your words for your husband. “are you okay? you don’t sound too well?” you rolled your eyes into the back of your head, wishing he’d just fuck off so you didn’t have the anxiety of having to string sentences together. “yeah i’m fine, think i’m just a bit ill. i’ll l-let you get some sleep. love you. bye.” you quickly got out, pressing the red end call button, slinging the phone off the counter, the object hitting the ground with a smack. “you are such a bastard.” you slightly laughed with another moan. “didn’t want him worrying about his dear wife now did we doll? thank you for the five star review though, i appreciate it.”

the wet sounds still echoed around the room, you could feel yourself getting ever so closer to what you knew would be a world shattering climax. “fuck, i’m so so close, please! fuck!” Negan held you firmer in place, his hips snapping against your behind, his dick filling you up to the brim. “let go doll, come all over my dick.” that was all the permission you needed, you let yourself climax, sobbing in pleasure, waves of pleasure rippling through you, nearly too intense for your body to handle it. you cried out his name, your fingernails digging into your own palms as you circled your hips, riding out your orgasm.

Negan wasn’t too far behind, he couldn’t help but spill inside you, quickly pulling out to finish the rest on your now red glistening ass, from the countless spankings he’d given you. you both almost collapsed, breathless, unable to get your heart rates back to normal for the time being. Negan held you to his chest, your back meeting his torso in a warm embrace, chests heaving. you felt the sticky ropes of his seed on your dress, making it stick to your ass as you licked your lips to regain some moisture back as they’d gone dry from all your moaning and whining. his hands ran up and down your body, coming to play with your breasts over the material.

“fuck doll, do you have any more repairs for me to do? because i would gladly fix every goddamn thing in this house for this again.” you laughed, turning around to look at him, face beat red from the strenuous actions you’d both participated in. you reached behind him and pulled open one of the cabinets behind his head, the wood snapping with the force, taking it off its hinges so it hung off.

“whoops. you might need to take a look at that.”

[wicked-women-mother-in-law]

[bucknastysbabe]

himbo criston pls i need him

Thinkin’ with my— skills! • C.Cole

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Criston is really fucking stupid but good at stuff and things, the Peloton affirmations, shower sex, pnv!sex, he’s a puppy your honor, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, needy needy bb, malewife tendencies, short n sweet n dirty.

Taglist: @valeskafics @fairysluna @arcielee @sugarpoppss2, @lovelykhaleesiii @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @starogeorgina @bambitas @moncherrii

You were awoken. On a Sunday morning. The morning where you got to sleep in. Sitting up and stretching, you listened to the commotion which awakened you. You flopped back down registering the sounds of the stupid expensive peloton your boyfriend-lover?-malewife Criston had to have.

It was a nice mixture of grunts and affirmations between him mumbling, “Fuck yes. I am good!”

You rolled onto your stomach, no, you weren’t going to go back to sleep. Why the fuck would he even leave the door open? Climbing out of bed you pulled on your sweatpants— it was either naked or underwear considering Criston was a fucking furnace.

Passing him by he waved with a smile, “Morning love!”

You grumbled “Don’t you have work, or headphones?”

Criston’s stupidly happy face fell a bit. He replied, “It’s my off day, and I forgot! Sorry!” You waved him off and went to make some cereal, then maybe watch your idiot man on a bike. He was only clad in some tiny shorts, might as well enjoy the glistening tan view.

Watching his thighs flex and medals clink across his delightfully hairy chest, you no longer held any qualms about dummy waking you up. Criston took note embarrassingly late and grinned, flexing like a goofball.

“Like what you see babe?”

You waved your spoon at him to laugh, “No talking, I’m just observing!” He pouted and returned to the set before he finished, shooting one more pitiful look, dark curls adorably plastered to his forehead. He bowed when you clapped, “Bravo, bravo Sir Criston of the Peloton!” There. Now he was happy.

Then he started coming toward you. All sweaty. Which would be different when he’s balls deep inside of you! You began to scramble away, hollering, “No, no, no you’ll stink!” You were enveloped into a sweaty body, fake retching and heaving. Ah, you were dropped. Ow you were dropped!

Criston looked puzzled as you did not puke. You glared up at him and complained, “I wasn’t actually puking dumbass!” Sometimes you wondered how he was a successful handyman in town who owned an entire business when he did things such as this. One time he bit into a fake apple— that sort of dumb, like he continued chewing before realizing. The brunette frowned, “Oh my bad. Sorry baby.”

Now you were back against sweaty body, heading toward the shower. Criston rumbled, “We both have to take a shower now. I got you good.” You chose to laugh along and not bring up the time you convinced him the Earth was flat. He was good with tools, everyone had their talents!

Regardless of IQ questioning, you were quite excited when he pressed you up against the glass of the shower, blindly reaching inside to turn the water on as he kissed and mouthed at your neck. The sound of the water began and Criston yanked down your panties and sweats, groaning softly.

You pulled off your bra, breathlessly questioning.

“Criston! Y-you just got done working out, ah right there baby, and you wanna fuck?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, big hands on your tits, thumbing at a peaked nipple. His long hair tickled at your shoulder, stubbled chin and soft lips nibbling at your neck. You gasped, reaching back to press him against your ass, groaning at that gorgeous cock hot and flushed.

“Fuck, love when you watch me, turns me on,” he rambled, managing to get a couple sloppy kisses from your mouth, still massaging at your chest. You panted back, “Love watching you handsome, c’mon, let’s get in the shower.”

Brown eyes blinked and he seemed to come out of a haze, dropping his tiny shorts and groaning when it slapped against his taught belly. You rasped, “C’mon stud, in the damn water, wash first.” He seemed to disagree with your plan but was shoved down to the bench anyways.

You weren’t going to ever miss a chance to feel up his godly body. Even if he got a little whiny about it. Whiny Criston was cute, scrunched nose and stupid little questions. Soaping up a rag you kissed his cute nose and began washing his upper body. God- you may have spent too much time on his chest, the man was squirming.

Criston complained, “C’mon baby, c’mooon.” Puppy eyes glanced at you. You shook your head to move down to the lower half— feet up to his most tender areas. You were pretty sure you had a mini-orgasm when you touched his cock and balls— the man gasping out and fucking his hips forward, pleading a bit.

“Just your hair left baby,” you cooed to another annoyed gasp of your name. Criston may fuck the shit out of you, but he always listened to commands. He complained again, “Come onnnnn, m’so hard, you look good.” His hands wrapped around your hips, one moving to paw at the flesh of your ass.

Ignoring him you shampooed dark curls, combing through them as he groped you. You cried out when the man’s lips covered your nipple, needily suckling. “F-fucking hell, I’m almost done!,” came your weak chiding. He merely looked up and smiled around your tit. Ushering the needy thing up you pushed him under the hot stream of water.

“You’re so whiny you know that?”

“You took too long, I wanna fuck my girl, like what if I got backed up?” Criston retorted.

Ugh. He made you throb. Even if he was fucking stupid.

Smoothing back his dark hair, Criston closed into your frame, shoving you back to the bench this time and dropping to his knees. Big hands kept you spread as your boyfriend kissed up trembling thighs. He lapped at your soaked cunt, moaning, then flicking his tongue against your clit.

Criston was good with his mouth. And hands. And cock. He hummed around your clit, fingers pumping you and dragging along the soft spot, gorgeous dark orbs watching your face. You couldn’t stop mewling and whining, legs wrapped around his broad shoulders. You had bitten your lip bloody to keep from wailing.

“Aaaah- oh Criston- fuck! M’close, mmmm!”

He only seemed to move faster, suckling at your clit, driving his fingers deeper, the sensation of stubble driving you wild. His other hand slid up your body, tanned hand encircling your throat and barely squeezing.

“Fucking shit!,” you wheezed before falling into a fit of whines and moans, seizing around his pretty face. Your belly tightened along with your back, riding out the orgasm on the man’s face. Criston had you so fucked out already it wasn’t much a chore to lift you up and onto his cock.

He groaned deeply, pressing your back against the wall, the warm warm cascading over you both. Criston’s thick fucking cock had you split open, the girth never changed. Somehow you were a sloppy mess every time. Didn’t matter. He grinned against your flushed cheek, mumbling, “S’tight baby, god, I love you.”

He held you in place, his flat chest rubbing against your tits, fucking up in powerful motions. You held your head back against the stone tile, panting, eyes locked with his own. “Criston, Criston, Criston,” you chanted softly, writhing. He whined through his nose, taking your lips in a desperate move, smashing his nose against your own.

You took his tongue and cock, rendered a shivering mess. But Criston had a lot of damn stamina, cock full and pulsing. Barreling it’s way through your tight walls, rubbing that spot near your cervix. You’d end up in tears most times when he abused that place, cumming so hard you were all snot and tears.

You kissed him back, gasping into warm lips, your pussy being thoroughly abused with loud smacks. Criston growled, slapping your ass, “Mine yeah? S’all mine. Whose cunt is this?” He smacked your ass again, demanding.

“Yours, all yours baby, Criston fuck!”

“That’s not my whole name.”

Fucking hell you could barely string together a sentence and he wanted his entire name? Criston continued, “There’s other Cristons, whose cunt is this?” Your eyes rolled back as he angled his hips again.

“Criston Cole, my pussy belongs to you!,” you gasped raggedly. He smirked and kissed your cheek, all smiley like he wasn’t rearranging internal organs. “Good girl,” he rasped, “You’re so pretty, love you.” You melted a bit, wrapping your arms tighter around tan neck, too strung out to properly kiss the sweetie.

He grunted, readjusting himself, friction now fiery against your cervix, your g-spot when he drug out. You cried helplessly, heaving and practically screaming in pleasure. Criston looked delighted, rambling, “Fuck baby, you’re, oh, uh, oh my god!” Sweet boy was hit or miss with dirty talk.

“Come on, cum on me baby, come on,” he pled, eyes watery now, hips twitching, showing the first sign he might be close. You nodded, blubbering in response, overbearing heat building upwards from your cunt, into your belly and frayed nerves. Criston took a swipe at your clit, puffy lips against your own, swallowing up your wail as you released onto his cock.

Criston’s hips stuttered at the rush of thickened cum around his cock, whining at you.

“Criston, ba-baaaby, you gonna cum in your pussy? It belongs to you,” you stammered out, overstimulated to the point of some cohesion? He whined again, excitement lacing his tone, “Yeah, yeah, keep talking!” You smirked a bit, mildly entertained regardless of scrambled cunt.

“Pretty booooy, my Criston, wan’ you to fill me up, stuff your pussy up. M’so empty!,” you goaded. His reaction was like a car crashing, hips colliding into you, eyes scrunched as he moaned long and loud, cock pumping load after load into your sore channel. Pretty tears gathered at the corner of dark eyes, him nuzzling into your face like the puppy he was.

He finished up with a soft noise, plopping you both down on the bench, resting his forehead on your shoulder— softening cock still deep inside of you. You were about to slide off before big hands held you in place. Criston stated, “No. If you stay here in the heat, it’s like the sperm’s home, my balls, therefore you’d be easier to knock up.”

“Criston.”

“What?,” he seemed confuddled you weren’t getting it.

“I’m on birth control.”

“Ugh. Right,” he muttered while sliding out. The sight of his cum slipping out of you seemed to please the idiot. You tried to hold back delirious laughter as he would get his ‘widdle feewings’ hurt. Kissing his sloped nose you cooed, “One day babes, don’t worry. Can we go cuddle or sleep or something now?”

He nodded, “Yeah babe, can we watch 300 again?”

Sigh.

“Yes Criston we can watch 300 again.”

[alwaysaslutforfic]

Daichi Headcanons ❤️ - NSFW

Here he is! The man the myth the legend 🥰

Written in his memory 😔 RIP Daichi

Warnings: mentions of daddy kink, choking, and various position but nothing super explicit

Minors are not allowed to interact and stay out of the cut! Minors DNI!!

I murdered my beta’s like Tanaka murdered Daichi

Check out my headcanons for Tsukki and Kyoutani

Sexy driver pt2. One hand on the wheel, the other holding yours. Just watching his arms flex as he changes gears is enough to have you flustered. Always opens your door for you and helps you get in. Let’s you pick the music and pulls over if you want takeout

Concedes the aux cord but has pretty good taste in music. Prefers more mellow sounds. Indie, jazz, soft rock. He takes you to local shows as dates and will either watch you dance, or hold you close to slow jams. FestivalDaichi! is a new man. Get him drunk and he gets handsy. (Drunk kisses 🤤)

Just loves to spend time with you. The best day out partner. Breakfast at a cafe in the morning, holds your bags and your hand. He doesn't complain if you wanna try on clothes or shoes or browse games, he’s just genuinely happy to be there

A handyman. Owns a tool belt that you bought him and looks damn good in it too. Puts up shelves, fixes sinks, cleans gutters, mows lawns. And if it’s summer, then you have a shirtless handyman to boot. (Note to self: handman Daichi 😌)

Speaking of shirtless Daichi, because of his rota at the firestation (hashtag: FiremanDaichiForLife) he prefers to workout at home. He works out in the garden when it’s warm, and in the living room when it’s cooler. Either way, you have a free show at least twice a week. He will let you sit on his back while he does push ups, or hold you while he squats

Will indulge all your couple tiktok challenges with a sheepish grin, and fondness in your eyes. The comments are full of ‘get you a man who looks at you like that’

This man is romantic. I’m talking candlelit dinner, flowers for no reason, surprise lunch at your workplace. He’s just a modern, old-fashioned man who treats you like a treasure

The king of soft intimacy. Cooking together. Baths together. Wine and candles in your living room. Cuddles, cuddles, cuddles. Play with his hair and you risk just putting him straight to sleep, but who can resist the world’s best weighted blanket.

Daichi is forever your personal cheerleader. He supports all your choices, dreams, and goals. He’ll give you advice, or talk through anything you’re hesitant on. Even if they’re whimsical. You wanna start dance classes. He’ll go to any recital. You decide to switch to marathon running, he’ll be there with a sign and a gallon of water. Cosplay, chocolate making, fanfiction 😉. He doesn’t care, as long as you’re happy

Call. Him. Daddy. And let him fuck you into the mattress or kitchen table, or sofa, or floor as a result

I touched on this briefly once, but choke him. You are Not in charge, but he just loves the feeling of your hand on his throat. The flutter of your fingers as he makes you cum

An ass man through and through. At this point his fingerprints are embedded in your ass cheeks from the way he grips them. Doggy; he’s spanking you. Missionary; he’s using your ass as leverage. Riding him; better believe he’s squeezing it as he makes you bounce harder.

Speaking of handy men, he has big hands and puts them to good use. Sits you on his lap and fingers you until he thinks you’re ready

Thick thighs save lives, and Daichi wants you to ride his. He’ll lick your nipples while you do, and basks in the mess you make on his thighs as a result (clearly my thoughts revolve around sitting in his lap and having a great time)

Without fail, will pull them panties to the side. Even on days when you have time to get naked. Loves the way you look in lingerie and loves the way you soak the fabric when he makes you cum

Daichi just make brain go brrr. Nothing but respect for my husband captain

[abiiors]

Cold Shower

Warnings: minors dni!!! Smut, unprotected smut, she/her pronouns, the word “juxtaposition” appears because this is matty’s pov sorry. a bit cringe ngl (the foreplay bit is good tho)

wc: 2.1k

Heat has settled like a heavy blanket all over the house. 

All day Matty has been trying to figure out what’s wrong with the air conditioning. He’s not much of a handyman to begin with and now the thought of having to sacrifice his lazy day with her on stupid household appliances makes him fume even more. 

He’s only wearing thin cotton boxers, yet sweat trickles down his back in rivulets and gathers at the base of his spine. He would have gone for a swim if the sun weren’t so blazing hot outside. Instead, his mind wanders back to her and what she might be doing up in the bedroom. 

Before he left her to go inspect the sudden lack of cool air, they had both been in bed; legs intertwined, her fingers brushing his chest occasionally, his drawing circles on her hips as they both read their books. Well, he read his giant Serious book while she read her smutty trashy romance. And while he always teased her about it, he couldn’t help abandoning his book to peak into hers. 

Right as the couple on paper have their first passionate kiss in the rain. 

His frustration grows as he thinks of the soft surprised sounds she makes every time there’s unexpected intimacy on the page, almost as if she’s experiencing it herself. The way she ends up lightly gnawing on her bottom lip to stop herself from grinning wide. Matty teases her about that too; actually, he doesn’t stop teasing her until she inevitably chucks the book at him and hides her face in the pillow. 

He abandons all thoughts of fixing the AC and makes his way back to the bedroom. 

‘It’s hopeless,’ he announces loudly before he even properly enters the room, ‘I’ll call someone tomorrow but we can get a hotel room if it’s too hot for you…’ Matty trails off when there’s no response. Instead, there’s soft, even breathing. 

Her long legs are sprawled on top of the sheets, naked entirely apart from the very short hipster shorts that she wears around the house to combat the heat. And right now, they do wonders for Matty’s imagination as he stares at the curve of her ass. Then slowly at the thin tank top that sticks to the contours of her body, to the loose hair that flutter on her neck. She’s almost asleep. Almost, if it weren’t for the restless pout on her face. 

‘Baby…’ he moves towards her. 

‘Hmm?’ she responds sleepily and the soft sound makes his blood rush down south. 

‘Are you sleepy?’ He sits at the edge of the bed and takes her feet in his lap, moves one finger up her calf and watches her squirm a little.

‘No,’ she smiles at him, ‘just lazy. I can’t really sleep in this heat,’ then suddenly she remembers and props herself up on her forearm. ‘What happened to the AC?’

He shrugs, ‘I’m not a handyman.’

‘Then you’re not coming anywhere near me today,’ she shrugs in return, ‘it’s so hot I can’t even think about cuddling right now.’

‘Oh, absolutely not,’ he grabs her leg and pulls her towards him. She shrieks and laughs when he falls on top of her, sweaty bodies colliding as Matty attacks her with kisses all over her face and finally as he captures her mouth in his. 

Lying on top of her doesn’t really help with his…situation. If anything, he can feel the front of his boxers tightening as she sighs into the kiss. 

‘Babe, I know what you want,’ she speaks against his mouth, ‘but I think I'm going to melt into a puddle if we keep going.’ He’s about to open his mouth to make a lewd joke but she shuts him up with a glare. ‘Not in a good way.’

‘Alright then.’ He hooks an arm under her legs and before she has the chance to question it, she’s up in the air, being thrown over his shoulder while he practically beelines to the bathroom. 

Her ass is up in the air, right in front of his face while he fumbles with the shower controls. He expects more shrieks and laughter as soon as the cold water hits them. Instead, she lets out a loud moan that shoots straight to his dick. 

‘Fuck,’ she sighs again, ‘this feels so good!’

He lowers her gently, noses touching each other as droplets of water cling to her eyelashes and rest on her lips. ‘Better than this?’ 

Matty grinds his hips into hers and groans softly when she throws her head back. The water has already soaked through her top making it translucent. Her nipples stand out against the white fabric, pebbled and pink. ‘Nothing is better than this,’  she whispers and kisses him deeply. 

His movements are frantic, a hand coming up to protect her head as he slams her back against the wall and deepens the kiss. His tongue flicks against her lips, tasting the water and remnants of her lip balm while she palms him through his boxers. 

‘Off with these,’ she moves her hands frantically, ‘I need to feel you.’

And he needs to feel her too; so desperately that he might just try to rip her clothes off her. She tastes sweet; like the honeycomb ice cream she had been eating earlier. They don’t break the feverish kisses as he shimmies out of his boxers and Matty shivers when her hand wraps around him. 

‘Fuck!’ he groans loudly in her hair, momentarily forgetting everything as she moves her hands up and down his length. ‘Darling, you feel s–so good.’

Then almost as if he has snapped back to his senses, he hooks a finger under the band of her shorts and peels away the soaked fabric from her body. Wet curls fall into his eyes, partially obstructing his view of her but it’s not like he can keep his eyes open for long as she strokes him over and over. 

A loud gasp fills the bathroom when his fingers touch her swollen clit. Her grip on him goes slack, hands stilling in place as she moans out his name. Fingers moving, in circles, over her slit and parting her folds, he basks in the way his name sounds from her mouth. 

Matty, Matty, Matty… again and again and again, every time he teases her entrance with his fingers and grips her waist to keep her from falling. 

‘Need you, Matty,’ she whines, ‘please, PLEASE.’ And she sounds so sweet begging for him that he plunges her fingers in and kisses her hungrily to swallow her moans. 

He nearly moans in return when she clenches around his fingers, tight and wet and needy; always needy for more. He imagines how she would feel around his dick, although he knows the feel of her very well. All the groves and contours of her body, the way she tastes everywhere, the way she sounds depending on where he touches her. Her back arches off the wall, tits brushing onto his bare chest and he increases his pace.

‘Perfect girl,’ he tells her, ‘my gorgeous, perfect girl.’

She becomes more and more like putty in his hands with each thrust of his fingers. His body screams to be closer to her, closer than he already is but he needs to see her fall apart around his fingers first and by the looks of it, she’s not far away. 

‘I’m so close, baby,’ she whimpers and buries her face in his chest, ‘harder, please, ple—’ the words turn into a strangled scream when he roughly flicks her clit with his thumb. 

‘That’s it darling,’ he encourages, ‘be a good girl now.’ 

She tries to hold on longer, almost as if she’s savouring the feeling of his fingers inside her, wanting to stay in this moment as long as possible. But he hooks his fingers inside her, and finally broken moans and gasps echo around the room as Matty feels her cum all over his hand. 

He is so tempted to bring the hand up to his mouth and get a taste but he keeps moving his fingers in and out. Lets her ride it out until she can finally open her eyes. 

Then, as if he’s possessed, he holds out the hand in front of her. ‘Lick it clean,’ he rasps, low and barely restrained, still a command. ‘All of it.’

Her cheeks flush and he almost laughs at the juxtaposition. Seconds ago she had been screaming all sorts of obscene things and now the thought of licking her own release off his hand is what makes her blush. But she maintains steady eye contact with him, pupils dilated, eyes wide, water clinging to her eyelashes as she slowly does as she’s told. Then, for extra measure, swirls her tongue around his fingers and hollows her cheeks to suck them clean. 

‘You’ll be the death of me, you know?’ he groans softly and her answering hum sends a jolt through his whole body. 

‘Kiss me?’ she asks sweetly once she’s done. 

And Matty’s more than eager. Now all he tastes is sweet honeycomb ice cream mixed with the taste of her and for a moment all other thoughts go out the window. That is until she pumps him harder and lines him up against her once again. 

‘Want me inside you again?’ he smirks.

‘Will you give me what I want if I say yes?’ she asks coyly. 

Matty moves closer, trapping her between him and the wall, and makes sure that his very hard cock sits right between her folds. The sensation intense enough to drive both of them crazy but he’s relentless and determined. 

‘Oh how generous of you,’ he teases and presses onto her further. She moans again and looks at him desperately. 

‘I want you, I want you, I’ll keep saying it,’ she breathes, ‘I want–fuck,’ he pushes his tip inside and nudges her to continue. 

‘You…’ she moans right in his ear as he pushes in the rest of the way. 

For one tender moment, his heart swells at the thought of her wanting him so much. Her saying it to him over and over again, and not just in the bedroom. Not just for sex. 

But then she drags her nails down his back and all tender thoughts fly out of his head. Matty unleashes himself, thrusting into her over and over, recklessly, hard and fast. What was meant to be slow love making on a hot summer day has turned into so much more. 

The shampoo bottles fall and clatter on the floor as she grabs the rack to support herself. But he doesn’t slow down and she doesn’t tell him to slow down. She leaves scratches on his back; a reward and an encouragement. Softly bites onto his shoulder to muffle her screams. And although he would love to be all marked up for the whole world to see, he wants to hear her screaming his name much much more. 

‘Louder, baby,’ he commands, ‘the louder you scream for me, the harder you get it.’

Instantly, she obliges and lets go of all inhibitions. There’s only her and her scent that surrounds him and her voice that echoes over and over again. 

They grab at each other frantically, like they would fall apart if either let go until some body wash clatters to the floor and she laughs. 

‘God, Matty, you drive me crazy,’ she whimpers as she clenches around him one more time, tighter and tighter. She’s on the edge again, ready to let go again. 

‘Cum for me again, baby,’ Matty whispers in her ear and bites her earlobe, ‘I know you want to.’

She nods with her eyes closed, breathing hard. And he keeps thrusting into her at a bruising pace even when she falls apart for the second, on and on and on till the pressure at the base of his spine almost makes him lose it. 

‘Matty,’ she pants but she’s incapable of forming words, forming any thoughts. So cock-drunk and blissed out that he moans at the expression on her face. Moments later, his legs tremble as he feels himself spill into her over and over again. Until all he sees is black for a solid two seconds. 

Miraculously, they hold each other up on shaking, trembling legs; still locked together, panting in tandem. The shower is still running; even now when the water is nice and cold, both of them feel the heat coursing through their veins. 

‘God, we’re like animals in heat,’ she laughs into his chest. ‘We were supposed to cool down!’

‘We will,’ he kisses the top of her head, ‘in five more minutes. Or ten more minutes. Or whenever I can bring myself to move away from you.’

[gabessquishytum]

Wandering jack of all trades Hob (minstrel, storyteller, bard, handyman) wanders in to a village that makes sacrifices to the Terrible & Great Spirit of the forest. Hob can hear the all caps, even tied up as he is to this altar.

It seems, so the village wouldn't have to sacrifice one of their own this time, they choose (secretly,,, to Hob anyway) to use Hob as this years sacrifice. They might feel sad about it, because Hob seems like a nice guy, but him or them.

Dream (or Great Forest Spirit, "terrible" seems a bit much) has decided to visit the towns that he protects. It been eons seemingly since he walked among humans and his sister poked at him for being so removed -- yes, even Eldritch spirits have family.

Dream has never rightly cared how the villages under his "protection" work to secure that protection -- honestly it's been ages since Dream even cared about such "formalities," but he's on walkabout right now and encountering all the village rituals.

Dream can't say he likes humans any more than he did before, but the mead and dancing rituals in his honor are nice....(he might give those villages a little extra zhuzh.). The villages that choose blood rituals are less fun, but Dream gets it.

💫💫💫💫

When Dream first got to this new village it seemed nice and he met another traveling visitor Hob, please call me Hob, who seemed to make it his mission to make Dream smile (and laugh) with his ludicrous "stories" and silly songs. Dream was not used to a human who wasn't off put by his natural weirdness. More over, Dream didn't sense any bad intentions from Hob, just interest in Dream. Dream was charmed, despite himself.

💫💫💫💫

Dream stepped away for like a minute (it was more like a month or two), and comes back to find Hob naked, tied to an altar, about to be sacrificed to, well, him.

Unacceptable.

Certainly, Hob was Dream's! But not in a stabby way.

Aalsjdjdshahaj I have this mental image of Dream just. Growing. Taller and taller and more eldritch by the second. The villagers are flattening themselves against the ground in fear. Hob is watching and trying not to be horny about it (he's still tied to the altar and he's only 90% sure that Dream isn't going to like. Eat him).

Eventually once he's been rescued, Hob is like "so you're the Great and Terrible Spirit, huh? That's kind of a fancy title. Am I still allowed to call you Dream?"

And Dream (still eldritch as fuck, around 8 feet tall with long claws and huge black eyes and teeth) leans down and regards Hob’s still naked form: "you are mine, and thus may call me whatever name you like."

Hob gives up trying not to be horny. It's not like he can hide anything from this awesome, beautiful creature anyway. God, he can't wait to write a ballad all about Dream.... with a verse specifically dedicated to his massive magical dick.

[s4ndg3m]

been thinking a lot about this guy lately. i think he and enphoso would be pals kinda..

sparknician (still not sure if thats a placeholder name or not) isnt really a mortal at all, since he's literally a huge spark shaped like a guy. if Mr were to get into the vator, sparkboy would leave. not cus he'd die but because if mr tried to burn him it would only burn his clothes and then he would be naked. embarassing!

he doesn't mind being forced out of the elevator, though (as long as he's not in a rush somewhere). he usually gets a little snack and fixes a lightbulb or cleans up or something for enphoso. does handyman things! or if he's feeling particularly awful he'll (somehow) bawl his eyes out on the counter. only if there's nobody else in the shop though.

[wxnheart]

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐳𝐚, 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐰𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Part I, Part II (NSFW), Part III, Part IV (NSFW)

...Because nothing says 'Home Sweet Home' like domestic drama and chaos brought to you by Yours Truly.

You reason that there's a method to your madness but, um... yeah, that may have gone out the window long ago. There's no method. Not really. You all are just mad and it works. Somehow.

Speaking of domestic life, it turns out that König's quite the jack of all trades in the kitchen. You and Simon later find out that he took up various hobbies growing up because he was so damn restless as a teenager (like hell that's changed) and he fell in love with cooking; apparently, that is one of the very few things that help calm his anxious energy. That and maybe pissing Ghost off. Maybe (read: ABSOLUTELY). Just know that König's hands always have to be busy. As such, he's the resident cook of you three.

König also finds comfort in walking Lola/Königin/Pup (your precious Doberman puppy that has three names because you three can't agree on one). When he walks her, König takes her on pretty lengthy treks. It really helps because she's pretty energetic.

Ghost is quite the handyman. He's actually really good at putting together furniture or making small repairs. Of course he is. He learned from the absolute fucking best... didn't he, pa?

You and König are banned from this because shit either a.) doesn't even get put together because of reasons or b.) falls apart because you two are horrible at reading the directions.

You bought them both aprons as a gag present. A gag present that König took seriously and wears every time he cooks. You're still trying to get Simon to wear his. Preferably naked. And yes, come hell or high water, he WILL wear it, goddamnit!

You're absolutely amazing at holding the fort down and keeping the house tidy. More often than not, you're the one who knows where the boys keep their stuff.

You also have an affinity for candles and/or incense and as such, the house ALWAYS smells heavenly. König and Simon have since equated this to safety and it's usually the marker for them to de-stress.

If Simon arrives home late at night from an assignment, he makes himself home on the couch so as not to wake you. If König arrives home late at night, he will very much sploot on the both of you in bed. Simon never fails to respond with an annoyed (and lowkey grateful) grunt.

Simon keeps track of the house's necessities. He's the one who makes the shopping lists and they are very organized.

Funnily enough, he's also the reason why Lola has an abundance of toys because he fucking spoils her even though he denies it. ("Denial's not only a river in Egypt, Simon." "....")

The numerous toys also take her attention away from his and König's masks and gloves.

Ghost's Pillow Princess status also ensures that every pillow on the bed is nice, soft, plump, and fluffy. He also likes making the bed every morning when he's home. König once again joked about his nickname and Simon smacked him with a pillow. And shot you a glare when you laughed.

König has a tendency to practically sleep under you or Simon. What this really means is that come morning, you're likely to wake up under a slumbering mass of muscles.

[piastrinorris]

Cheers to the Weekend

Pairing: Tom Grant x f!Reader

Genre: smut

Tags: Make Up (film), 18+ (minors DNI), established relationship, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), pillow humping, cmnf (clothed male, naked female)

Summary: You and your boyfriend discuss what to do with your weekend off together.

Word count: 3k

"Babe, I'm here!" Your most favourite words. You jump up from where you'd been sprawled across the couch, running all of about five feet before being able to embrace your boyfriend. He buries his face into your shoulder, humming happily.

"You alright?" You ask as you let go, reaching over to gently intertwine your fingers with his instead.

"'M very tired," he admits with a sleepy smile. "How was your shift?"

"My cheeks hurt from all the customer-service-smiling I've been doing," you admit with a grimace. "Still, that family's the weekend staff's problem now."

"Yep, and now your only problem this weekend is having your annoyingly doting boyfriend constantly wanting to snuggle with you, watch TV with you, maybe go for a little walk on the beach with you…" Tom's head cocks from side to side as he lists off activities.

"That sounds like the opposite of a problem, actually," you grin at him, pulling him in for a kiss. He kisses you back, starting with little pecks that gradually linger more, getting more and more intense with each one, pulling you into the bedroom.

He pulls back with one final chaste kiss. "So, what was that family's deal?" He asks, sitting on the edge of the mattress to start unlacing his boots.

Getting yourself comfortable on the bed, you sigh loudly, "Mum was trying to find every excuse to get free stuff while her kid emptied all the soil out of Fergus' pot onto the floor. "

Tom lets out a sharp gasp as he tugs one shoe off, "Not Fergus the ficus! That's murder!" You laugh, and he smiles over at you adoringly. "See, this is why I couldn't do your job, I'd have told them all to piss off and made that kid scoop it all back in," he shakes his head as he kicks off the other shoe. He flops onto the bed on his stomach, groaning into the pillow. The way his face squishes into it makes you laugh again. "Ugh, was your bed always this comfortable, or is it just the day I've had?"

"It's definitely just you," you point out amusedly, laying on your side and propping yourself up by your elbow. "I could never do your job, either. Big, strong handyman, slaving away at that workshop, carrying all those big, heavy things…"

Tom laughs as he pushes himself up. "Y'give me far too much credit, angel."

You soon fall into your natural position in bed; Tom's arm wrapped around you, his fingers rubbing up and down the top of your arm, your head against his chest, his heart thumping against your cheekbone. It isn't long, though, before he squeezes your shoulder in a way you know means that he wants you to lean up so he can kiss you some more. Tom hums, "Really missed you today."

"Missed you, too, Tommy," you purr between kisses.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you," Tom admits, and you grin.

"Oh, yeah? What about me?"

"Just, y’know. Thinking about all the stuff we can do this weekend, all those things I were just saying about," he muses.

You grin coyly, "And nothing else?"

He rolls his eyes and tuts jokingly. "Yes, yes, and that stuff, too, horndog."

"What?" You giggle. "You're the one thinking about that stuff at work."

"Oh, and you're not?" Tom asks you in disbelief.

"...I didn't say that," you tease, moving over to straddle him.

"Oh, hello," he grins at the change of position, his hands running up and down the sides of your body, wrapping his arms around your back once you lean down to kiss him intensely, hips grinding down against his. He hums against your lips, "Mmm, somebody's eager, aren't they?"

"No shit, look at you," you grin back before kissing him again, your tongues engaging in a twisting dance of passion, accompanied by the harmony of you both moaning together.

"Fuck, yes, sweets, y'feel so good like that," Tom groans. "Keep making those sounds, yeah? Please, s'fucking hot." You move just slightly to moan deliberately into his ear, and his grip on you tightens. "Mmm, is this what you've been thinking about all day, love? Counting down the minutes until you could ravish me?"

With a sheepish giggle, you lie, "No…"

"Certainly seems like it," he raises his eyebrows at you as you sit upright, rocking yourself in circles against the erection you feel pressing through his tracksuit bottoms. He bites his lip tightly as he watches you, his hands slipping underneath your pyjama top to squeeze your hips, digging his grip in. He groans, "Want this off, want to see my fingers press into you."

"Is that all you want to see from me being topless?" You mimic his tone from earlier, and Tom laughs as he helps you pull the garment off of your body. He constantly slides his hands up and down your body, stopping each way to grip your breasts and your hips. Every squeeze earns him an evermore desperate buck of your hips.

Tom smiles dreamily up at you. "'M never gonna get tired of this view, pretty girl. My pretty girl."

You hope your, "'M not," is muttered quietly enough for Tom not to hear it, but no such luck.

"Uh, excuse you, you're fucking gorgeous, babe. 'M a lucky, lucky boy," he smirks, pulling your face down to kiss you again. He gasps out a moan against your lips, "And the way you're humping me like that, fuck, so good. Make me feel so good, looking like that, 've hit the jackpot, me. Fuck, is that good for you, too, yeah?"

You play with the collar of his shirt. "Please, Tommy… Wanna really make you feel good."

He groans again, this time out of exhaustion. "Listen, babe, literally any other time, you know I'd have my clothes off at that in an instant, but… 'M just so tired tonight, angel. I'm sorry."

"I could just ride you?" You offer, and he chuckles, rubbing his face wearily.

"You know I don't like just sitting there and letting you do all the work," he frowns up at you.

You mirror him, "And yet you'll spend the best part of an hour going down on me without expecting anything back?"

He pulls a face of intrigue. "What a wonderful idea." Before you can react, he wraps an arm and a leg around you, swinging his whole body around to roll you onto your back, as he hovers over you.

You giggle, "What happened to being tired, eh?"

"That was my last bit of energy," he grins back. "Well, almost. Think I've got just about enough to get these off you." He hooks his fingers over the elastic of your shorts, pulling them down your legs before settling himself between them. "There she is," he coos under his breath, his fingertips tracing the outside of your folds. "I've especially missed you."

You groan, "Tommy… 'S not faaaair."

"What isn't, angel?" he asks, sliding his middle finger inside of you with ease. You gasp out a long moan, your eyes unfocusing, and he grins up at the sight of you.

“Wanna make you feel good, too,” you whine.

He tuts, shaking his head. “Now, now. Sulking in’t gonna get you anywhere, is it?” He pulls his finger almost completely out of you before sinking it back in again quicker. You thrash your fists against the mattress and he breathes out a soft laugh. “What did I just say, sweets?” he asks in the same soft tone as before.

“Not sulking,” you pout. “Just wanna - wanna touch you and taste you and fu- Fuck, Tommy, I really wanna fuck you, please,” you plead as he adds another finger.

He does climb up your body, still working your core with one hand, to silently kiss you. His motions get far more rapid, moving in and out of you until his fingers are so slick with your juices that they just slip out of you, to which he then starts rubbing your clit at the same speed. Your cries of pleasure come out as muted vibrations against his lips, and you don’t realise him taking the pillow next to you and pulling it back down with him even as he breaks away. You blink your heavy-lidded eyes over and over, watching the imaginary spots that shower your field of vision slowly dissipate. 

“Plenty of time for that, love,” he soothes once he’s settled back down where he wants to be. “But right now, I fucking need your thighs around me.” His palms slide up and down the inner sides of your legs as a gentle prompt, and you comply, crossing your ankles loosely between his shoulder blades. He sighs contentedly. “So soft…” He shuffles into position to press a kiss to your clit, his hands wrapping around the flesh of your thighs to hold them in place. “So warm…” you hear him from the cave he’s made for himself between your legs as you feel him nuzzle his way further down to your core. “Perfect.” 

His tongue works as tenderly as it would if he were kissing you, gently poking its way through your folds and sliding through. Your fingers card through his curls as his head turns, this way and that, as he plays you like an instrument, eliciting different noises from you with every motion. Your legs twitch, instinctively squeezing together around his head, and he moans delightfully, pushing down on your thighs to tighten their hold on his head even more. He snakes his tongue inside of you, extending it to its stiffest, most pointed length as he bobs his head back and forth to fuck you with it.

Your legs wrap tighter still around him, and you feel his grip slip around to your ass cheeks to grip them roughly. The sensation of his fingernails digging into your supple flesh have you crying out in pleasure, which you can tell from his moans is turning him on insanely quickly.

But, with your thighs in a vice around him, it gets harder for you to grab his hair, make a mess of his curls so that when he resurfaces, it's obvious for the rest of the day what he's been up to. You don't get to look into those dark, rich eyes of his that caramelise when the sun sets just right through the window.

You pout, "Tommy…" as you relax your thighs, pulling them slightly away from him.

"Everything alright, sweets?" He asks with concern.

You continue in the same tone, "Miss your face."

With a soft laugh, he kneels up slightly, your heels naturally sliding off of his shoulder blades as he does. "Of course, angel, 'm sorry." He pushes your legs wide open, looking down adoringly at your glistening folds. "Such a perfect, pretty thing, isn't she?" he smiles, running the pad of his finger along them. Placing his hands just within the crooks of your legs, he gently pushes outward, spreading you even wider. He marvels at the sight in front of him studiously, his eyes darting around until he places another, calculated, kiss down between your legs, his lips and tongue working in ways no form of self-pleasure could ever replicate. 

His eyes flutter shut as he flicks his tongue in all kinds of formations: he lays it flat against you as he licks along your folds from the bottom up; he gently traces the insides of your lips with the tip; he waggles his tongue back and forth, at a speed your eyes can barely keep up with, as it works your clit from every angle he can move his head to reach. Every sound of pleasure you make is harmonised by his humming against you.

As you melt against him, warm brown eyes flicker up to look at you through his eyelashes as he starts suckling on your clit. All you can see of him are his curls, now wildly spread out thanks to your handiwork, his eyes and his nose, but with just those alone, his expression tells you how much he adores you. The way his brow softly knits together, the glint in his eye, it makes you feel like a goddess that he's obsessed with worshipping. 

You cry out, "Fuck, Tom… Feel… So good, 'm gonna -" The rest of your sentence is swallowed in a high-pitched whine as you feel the first pang of your crescendo forming.

Tom groans against you, pulling away just to tell you, "Perfect timing as always, angel, this has been turning me on like mad, wanna make you cum so badly."

You whimper, "Please… Want yours, too, Tommy."

He tuts, shaking his head. "No time, sweets. Think you coming on my face is exactly what I need to get off, too." Before you can answer back, he resumes suckling on your clit, burying two fingers inside of you and working them at the same speed he had earlier, until you're seeing those spots again. "So fucking gorgeous when you're all fucked out, babe," he croons. "C'mon, be a good girl and come all over me."

As you let your orgasm take full control over your body, he stops fingering you to immediately get his tongue in there, cleaning you up as you cream all over his mouth for what feels like eternity. His look changes as he devours you, one you recognise as his own orgasmic expression. You notice a little movement in the corner of your eye, and prop yourself up on your elbow to investigate.

You'd not even noticed you were a pillow short, let alone that he had slid his tracksuit bottoms to his knees to fold the pillow between his thighs, humping it as erratically as he'd move if he were coming. You let out a small, disappointed whimper. "Y'didn't need to use a pillow, 'm right here."

"Can't eat you out and cum inside you at the same time, sweets," he points out with a smirk, his whole body looking on the verge of giving up all movement as he slides back up to be eye-level with you.

"I could've sat on your face and sucked you off at the same time," you retaliate in a similar tone, and he chuckles.

"Nah, needed that. To just make my girl forget that anything else exists for a bit. Helps me feel the same, too," he explains, leaning over to kiss your forehead. "S'pose I should clean up what's in these boxers, though, eh?"

"Is it weird that it actually turns me on, knowing you came in your pants over me?" You ask as he heads into the bathroom, and half his laughter gets drowned out by the sound of running water. As he's cleaning himself up, you notice the discarded pillow and start rearranging the others until the one he'd been humping is beneath your head.

As he returns, he looks quizzically at the bottom of the bed, pointing to where the pillow had been. You bury half your face into it, smiling coyly as you look over at him, and he bites his lip. "Speaking of things that weirdly turn y'on, that's so doing it for me," he groans under his breath as he sits on the corner of the bed and reaches again for his shoes.

You frown, "Where you off to?"

"We have to eat at some stage, horndog," he teases, leaning over to tap your nose playfully.

"What are you gonna go and get, then?" You ask as he puts on his second boot.

"Thinking that Chinese place just outside of here, it's never that long of a wait," he shrugs, and you hum happily as you redress yourself in your pyjamas, opting to stay sitting up on your bed as he gets up.

"Sounds good to me. Could I have a -" Tom interrupts you by reciting your order exactly as he walks towards the door. Feeling nothing but the pure ecstacy of being around someone who remembers even the littlest details, you mindlessly call back to him, "You're the best! Love you!"

Your little bubble of contentment pops when you realise what you've said. How it's the first time you've said it. And it's just on a throwaway goodbye on his way to get a takeaway. He rushes the few paces it takes to get back to your bedroom to look at you, his expression tough to read, and say, "Say that again." You start to fluster, unsure how you can potentially backtrack from here, but he kneels one leg back onto your bed, leaning over to cradle your cheek in his hand. "Please. Say it properly, to my face," he pleads softly.

Grinning widely, you place your hand over his and look him dead in the eyes as he gives you that worshipping gaze all over again. "I love you, Tommy." A surprised chirp escapes the back of your throat as he tackles you back down onto the bed, furiously kissing your lips over and over and over again, and you laugh against him. "What happened to getting food, horndog? Now you've made me hungry!"

"'M not doing this to fuck ya, 'm doing this 'cause I love ya," he mutters as he kisses your neck. You lay back and revel in how good it feels until your stomach betrays you, growling loudly. The breath from Tom's laugh tickles your neck as he slides down to pull your pyjama top up enough to expose your tummy so he can kiss it. "Alright, message received, loud and clear, boss," he says directly to it before climbing off the bed. You giggle as you readjust your top, and he looks at you softly. "I do love you, y'know."

"If you did, you wouldn't keep me starving here, now, would you?" You tease, falling apart with laughter once more as he bolts out of the door. You head back to where the sofa is - where you'd left your phone - and send him a text: I love you, too, btw. 😘

[octuscle]

The bros at my work have always been dicks to me, calling me stupid and whatever, and recently they've been whispering and grinning at each other when I'm around.

I just found a note saying "Grunt, white boy" in my locker, what does it mean?

Aside from the note, you notice the smell in the locker. But is anything different? The astrophotographs are on the door, your shirts are neatly stacked in case you need a fresh one, no, everything else is the same as it always is. "Grunt, white boy. A bit silly to put something like that in the locker of an Indian-born IT administrator. You make a note in your remarkable to install a security system for your locker.

Some joker also changed your favorites list in the browser. What are you interested in protein powder stores? Or porn sites. If they are porn sites. At least they show pretty naked pretty muscular fellows. Fuck, why does your dick jump at that? Okay, these fellows are really hot! You don't realize how long you've been surfing the NSFW pages until a colleague calls you and asks if you'd like a coffee for breakfast. Shit, you've been looking at bodybuilders for over an hour. And on the side, you bought over $200.00 worth of supplements.

Your colleague says at breakfast that the radical buzzcut suits you. A bit unusual, but suits you. Emphasizes your bull neck. You shovel in the liter of low-fat curd cheese with protein powder that was in your compartment in the refrigerator and nod. Tell your pal something about your training and nutrition plan. He looks at you a bit uncomprehendingly and asks if you want to watch the transit of Venus together with your telescope tonight. You laugh and say that you don't stalk bitches. But with the hot Latino stud from across the street, you're in.

Back at your desk, you're a little unfocused. Taking care of your to-do list is really hard for you. You haven't really accomplished anything yet. But you take your lunch break a little earlier than usual. You get your gym bag out of your locker and take the subway to the gym. Lifting iron will bring you back to the right thoughts.

Yes, you've overstayed your one-hour lunch break a bit. Your boss calls you on your cell phone and tells you to get your ass to the company, there are problems at the wastewater treatment plant. Of course. Always at the squats. You don't bother to shower and change. Wastewater treatment plant doesn't sound like it's a white collar job. So get in your pick-up truck, head to the company, get to your locker and get into your janitorial overalls. And then see where the problem is. Fuck, you literally have to go knee-deep into the shit. So once again the rubber fishing pants over your clothes. The long gloves are helpful, you don't need a gas mask anymore. The other colleagues are wimps, but you grew up on a farm in the Midwest, you are used to slurry and pigsties. And with a well-aimed grip in the shit, you've also solved the problem.

Your cell phone rings again, you take off your right glove and answer it. One of the trucks won't start. You are really the handyman around here. To avoid making a big mess, you walk around the outside of the building. Nevertheless, the people you pass hold their noses. Idiots! Yes, you stink of sweat and feces. But someone has to do the dirty work. The nice thing is that everyone still stares at you. It's clear, in your work clothes your big muscles come out even better. The next tie-wearer who stares at you, you grunt like a pig. Come on, it's true! You're not an animal in the zoo here!

Nevertheless, the colleagues in the car shed refuse to repair the truck with you. First you have to wash yourself. If they want to, let them get a hose. That's how you did it on the farm, too. You have no problem with that…

[porcelainmortal]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you to @cha-melodius @blueeyedgrlwrites and @iboatedhere @thinkof-england for the tags!

I worked past a bit of a hump with part four of my handyman Alex series last night and I'm excited to keep working on it now that my Vegas fic is fully posted! Let's have a snippet, shall we?

“Hey, baby,” Alex murmurs, arms wrapping around Henry’s waist from behind. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” “You were sleeping so peacefully and I know you needed it, so I thought it best to let you keep sleeping.” Henry turns in Alex’s arms, taking in his face and sleepy eyes, cheek still deeply creased from his pillow.  “But I wanted to wake up with you and… do things.” “Hm. As tempting as that is, I want you to take a look outside.” Henry turns so that Alex can see out the window behind him.  “Oh. Is that – is that sunshine?” Alex’s face lights up, a gorgeous smile splitting his lips. Henry hums in confirmation, leaning down to press a kiss to Alex’s throat. “And I was thinking, since we haven’t properly seen each other in two weeks, and it’s sunny out for the first time in longer than that, that we should get out of the house and go do something.” Alex groans, pulling Henry closer.  “Not that I disagree, but I haven’t seen you naked in two weeks either, Wales. That’s way too long,” he pouts. “Yes, but I will still be able to get naked later today, when the sun has set and the air has cooled. And then I will need to be properly warmed up.” He grins down at Alex, whose face goes from annoyed to frustrated to eager in the span of about fifteen seconds.  “Fine. But you and me, tonight, bedroom. Be there,” Alex says sternly, poking Henry in the chest as he does so.  “Yes, love.”

Tagging @firenati0n @itsmaybitheway @theprinceandagcd @stratocumulusperlucidus @getmehighonmagic and an open tag for whoever wants it!