[spitgre]

no one and i mean

no one, has ever fucked me up like how clark kent has .. but specifically david corenswet’s clark.

he makes me so feral. that big ol’ nerd, who loves and cares for everyone. so fucking dorky .. like i need to suck his dick, it’s not even funny.

ugh ..

[ink-on-silk]

Nitpicking (Skeletor x Fem!Reader)

Relationship: Skletor/Female Reader

Rating: 18+

Lace png from: @sweetestpeacreates

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, rough sex/dubcon elements, heavy dom/sub dynamic, humiliation kink, porn without plot, crying during sex, exhibitionism, size kink, power imbalance, exophilia.

Tags: Skeletor/Reader, AFAB Reader, Skeletor Smut, Skeletor x Reader, Reader-Insert, Dominant Skeletor, Humiliation Kink, Exhibitionism, Size Difference, Rough Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Degradation, Crying Kink, Throne Sex, Evil Dom, Masters of the Universe Smut, No Plot Just Smut, Dark Fantasy Smut, exophilia.

Word Count: 3,325

Author’s Notes: If you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and make the change. I scrolled through Tumblr and AO3 and found NOT a single fucking oneshot smut of him. I was thirsting like crazy during the movie.

Those are my main references for his physical appearance: Here and Here

Summary: Skeletor summons you to the throne room just to nitpick your uniform… and then use you in front of anyone who walks in.

The air in the Snake Mountain was thick with the scent of sulfur. Torches flickered along the walls of black stone, casting long, twisted shadows that seemed to writhe like living serpents. 

The throne room was a cathedral of bone and obsidian, where the very walls whispered forgotten curses. 

Skeletor circled you with slow, deliberate steps, his colossal frame dominating the chamber. He was the very image of raw, tyrannical power: a towering, giant with deep blue skin stretched taut over thick, corded slabs of battle-hardened skin. His head was a grotesque, yellowish skull locked in a permanent, menacing grin beneath the tattered hood. 

His dark purple chest armor, adorned with sharp, bone-like spikes, gleamed in the light. A ragged black cape fluttered behind him, while his battle skirt of tattered purple and black leather strips swayed with each heavy stomp.

The red orbs glowing within his eye sockets flared with irritation, narrowing and refracting like malevolent flames as he scrutinized every inch of you.

He tapped the Havoc Staff against the stone floor with an impatient clack, the sound echoing like a death knell. His overwhelming presence made the air feel even heavier. Two clawed fingers hooked roughly into the high black collar of your deep-purple bodysuit. With a sharp yank, he pulled the fabric taut.

“This…” he gestured at your uniform with theatrical disgust, voice dripping with contempt, “This sorry spectacle before me… is not good at all, is it, my sweet servant?”

You kept your gaze lowered, as you had been trained.

“No, my lord.”

“Of course it isn’t!” he hissed, the red glow in his sockets intensifying. “Look at this sorry excuse for attire. Months under my magnificent rule, and you still cannot even present yourself adequately? How embarrassing! Utterly, pathetically embarrassing!”

He stopped directly in front of you, so close that the smell of ash, charred bone, and sweat overwhelmed your senses. Two clawed fingers hooked roughly into what's left of the high black collar of your bodysuit — the same shimmering, metallic-accented garment he had once demanded. 

“That collar was ridiculous. Far too modest for my tastes.” He tore the fabric downward in one fluid, mocking motion, exposing more of your cleavage. “Less fabric here… and here…”

You stood perfectly still as he nitpicked. The bodysuit is tight enough to accentuate your waist and push up your breasts and ass in a way that already made you look more like a pleasure servant than a proper minion of evil. A wish of Skeletor, yet he was never satisfied.

His massive hands suddenly clamped around your waist, fingers digging in with bruising strength. Your skin prickled at his touch. 

“A corset,” he says while squeezing until you gasp. “I want it tiny. No more of this ridiculous bodysuit.” You solemnly nod, even though it was something he previously ordered.

He continued tearing downward with casual cruelty, stopping just above your crotch. A single claw dragged slowly down your now-exposed belly, sending more shivers down your skin, scraping lightly over before hooking into the last remaining scrap of fabric that barely covered your sex.

One of his claws then moved upward, tracing between the torn edges of fabric still clinging to your breasts.

“And I want no fabric here either!” he declared, pointing directly at the center of your chest. “No more of this pointless coverage.”

You swallowed hard. “What?”

Skeletor’s skull tilted, the red orbs flaring with exaggerated outrage.

“‘What?!’” he repeated in exaggerated outrage, red orbs flaring. “Did my own servant just dare utter ‘what’ to me?! Figure it out, woman! Before I lose my patience and rip the rest off myself!”

“Yes, my lord,” you answered quickly.

His attention shifted to your neck. The skull leaned closer, red light burning.

“You would look exquisite with a thick leather collar around that delicate throat,” he purred, voice low and dangerous. “Thick. Heavy. With a ring so I may drag you to your knees whenever the whim strikes me.” One massive hand wrapped fully around your neck, encircling it effortlessly. 

He shoved you down without warning. You dropped to your knees before the skeletal throne. Panthor lifted his great purple head for a moment, then returned to his nap, utterly uninterested.

Skeletor’s hand leaves your face and holds your chin up, palm pressing your lips, and fingers pinching your cheeks.

“Make your eye makeup darker.”

Skeletor sat upon the throne of bones with his legs spread wide in arrogant dominance, the picture of a dark lord who believed the universe itself should kneel before him. His colossal thighs took up an enormous amount of space. His tattered cape pooled around him like spilled night.

He gestured lazily with one claw.

“Come to me,” he commanded. When you started to rise, he stopped you with a gesture. “No. Crawl to your master, like a little panther.”

You obeyed, moving on all fours up the steps, back arched, hips raised. The tattered remains of your uniform barely clung to your body.

When you reached his feet, he laughed — that signature, theatrical, bone-chilling cackle.

“Ahhh, yes! Much better.” A claw hooked into the last scrap of fabric between your legs and tore it away. “From now on, you’ll wear something I can simply push aside when I want what’s mine. Understood?”

You nodded, already aching for his touch.

With deliberate arrogance, Skeletor leaned back on the skeletal throne and freed himself from the confines of his undergarments. His thick, veined cock stood proud and heavy against the deep blue muscle of his abdomen, already glistening at the tip with anticipation. You licked your lips. 

The sight of it always sent a dark thrill through you — a reminder that you craved his dominance.

Perhaps it was his power to do as he wished that made him hard like this? Your master had horrible mood swings; it was difficult to say what pleased him from time to time.

Sometimes he didn't even want anyone around unless it was to inflict excruciating pain with magic or a touch that resembled acid. And other times, he sought ridiculous reasons to summon you. 

Summons could result in countless things: studies, sermons, accompanying punishments, punishments for your mistakes, and especially sex, particularly sex. Among the countless reasons he summoned you, sex was equally common in numerous ways and for countless reasons.

Sometimes he wanted something quick to relieve himself; there were occasions when you would spend the entire night with him. 

He might be tempted to do this for countless reasons: to sexually torture you, or even just because he saw you walking through the fortress.

It was still difficult to know what his general intention was, but now, he wants you to suck his cock.

He noticed your hungry gaze and let out a low, theatrical chuckle.

“See something you like, my dear?” The pet name dripped from his skeletal mouth like honey — a rare reward for your eager obedience. Skeletor only used such words when you pleased him, a small mercy that made your stomach tighten with twisted affection.

You didn’t wait for further permission. With reverent hands, you removed his belt and pulled aside the leather strips of his skirt. The heavy musk of sweat and leather rose to meet you. Your mouth watered instantly.

You leaned forward, placing your arms between his spread thighs for support, back arched and ass raised high like an offering. Your lips brushed the head of his cock before you looked up, voice soft and obedient. Showing your complete willingness to serve him.

“May I, my lord?”

The red orbs in his skull flared with wicked satisfaction.

“You may, my sweet, eager little whore.” he purred, the praise laced with degradation. His clawed fingers slid through your hair until they gripped the roots at the nape of your neck. “Show your master how well I’ve trained you.”

He thrust his hips upward, forcing several thick inches straight into your throat. You choked around him, the sudden stretch making your eyes close with a sting. Skeletor groaned in pleasure, the sound deep and guttural, but he didn’t release your hair.

“Look at me while you serve,” he snarled, voice thick with delight.

You start working before he takes control again; once he's in the mood, he could fuck your mouth until you pass out from lack of air. Gazing up into the burning red lights of his eyes as you began. 

Your movements were practiced and flawless. No gagging or teeth scraping; your master had trained you well. Too well, you missed the spankings. Maybe if you asked after a successful mission, he would do it? 

With slow, deep bobs at first, coating every inch with saliva, then pulling back to swirl your tongue around the swollen head, licking up the salty beads of pre-cum that leaked for you.

You pull back slightly and start licking the glans, trying to stimulate more lubrication on his part. At that moment, he breathes heavily and clenches his fists that were on the armrest.

“Put it all back in your mouth.”

Skeletor’s fingers tightened in your hair again. His chest rose and fell heavily, the purple armor creaking slightly with each breath. You follow the command without hesitation, the second it's said. He grunted in approval.

“That’s it… just like that,” he growled, the theatrical villain momentarily lost in sensation. You try to breathe a little better, but he immediately complained, “Deeper. I know that throat can take far more than this pitiful effort.”

You sank again, taking him to the hilt until your nose pressed against the coarse hair at his base. He held you there for long seconds, enjoying the way your throat convulsed around him, before finally letting you pull back for air.

But mercy was never his strong suit.

“Faster,” he commanded.

You sank his cock in your throat again and started sucking him more quickly, but it still wasn’t enough. With a cruel laugh, Skeletor seized full control. His grip on your hair became iron, and he began fucking your mouth with rough, demanding thrusts — using you like a toy built solely for his pleasure. 

The wet, obscene sounds of your throat filled the throne room, mixing with his low grunts.

Your pussy exploded with lust as your jaw grew sore; you arched your back, an action noticed by your master, but he showed no interest in fucking you now, only laughed and continued to use your throat. 

Any servant who entered would find his master sprawled on his throne, while you lay with your ass in the air and your pussy glistening as your mouth was used for Skletor’s pleasure.

He didn’t care if anyone entered or if you could breathe. His hips snapped upward relentlessly, burying himself deep over and over. Tears streamed down your face, ruining the dark makeup and leaving black streaks across your cheeks. Your eyes watered uncontrollably, but you kept them locked on Skeletor’s glowing red gaze, just as he demanded.

Finally, he stopped pushing your head and simply held your face in place with both hands, thumbs smearing your tears across your skin as he fucked your throat with shallow, brutal movements of his hips.

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing more tears to fall; his red eyes shone intensely.

“Such a perfect servant,” his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. “Crying so beautifully for me.”

He pulled you down as far as possible, burying himself to the hilt. His cock throbbed violently, pulsing against your tongue as thick ropes of hot cum flooded your throat. You sucked greedily, milking every drop, desperate to please him even as your lungs burned.

Skeletor let out a long, satisfied groan mixed with muttered curses. When he finally released your head, he stroked the top of your disheveled hair.

“Good girl,” he rasped.

Your vision was blurred with tears, but the glowing red orbs of his eyes anchored you. 

Skeletor grabbed you by the hips with his huge hands and lifted you effortlessly, positioning you on your knees between his spread thighs.

“Open wider,” he ordered. You dragged your knees apart. “More.”

His claws sank into your shoulder blades, forcing you down until your knees pressed against his muscular thighs. The stretch was painful.

Your cunt is dripping and glistening under the light of the torches. A shaky breath escaped your lips. Falling forward or backward was not an option; you remained upright.

“Ahhh… now that’s better,” he murmured, clearly pleased with the view.

His large hand roams through your belly, hips, and waist before going between your legs, just below your sex, and touches it in a feather-like way. When he lifted his hand, his fingers and palm were glistening with your arousal.

“Literally dripping for me,” he let out a loud, theatrical laugh. “Ah, the sweet despair of carnal desires.”

Your walls clenched, forcing another trail of slick to run down your thigh. Skeletor’s red eyes flared with delight.

A claw circled your entrance teasingly, never pushing in. “I could bury my entire cock in this greedy little cunt dripping hole without the slightest scream, how disappointing! Where is the fun in conquering something so pathetically eager?!” he said, voice dripping with mock disappointment. “No screams. No struggle. How boring.”

He threatened to enter or exit with his finger, but not even the first joint of his index finger went in fully.

Your legs wanted to give way, your body wanted relief desperately, but Skeletor was not at all willing to give it at the moment.

You whimpered desperately. “Please… Please, my lord, I beg you…”

The red glow in his sockets flickered.

“Beg more…”

“Please, my master… Put a collar around my neck and choke me until I can’t breathe… Make me crawl in all four again… But please… fuck me.”

“Again,” he ordered.

You repeated the humiliating plea, voice shaking. Only then did he slide two thick fingers inside you.

“Help yourself,” he commanded lazily, leaning back and resting his skull against his fist.

You didn’t hesitate. You began riding his fingers with desperate, rolling movements of your hips. The wet, vulgar sounds of your soaked cunt filled the chamber. Your moans were muffled, but your body moved shamelessly, chasing the pleasure.

“Stop.”

Your body froze instantly, even as your mind screamed in protest.

Skeletor gripped his thick cock and held it upright. “Come here. Ride me, dear.”

His thighs were so massive that spreading your legs wide enough was another struggle. You had to push your knees painfully outward to have each knee at the side of Skletor’s hip. 

With one hand tangled in your hair, he forced you upright, letting his glowing eyes rake over your exposed, tear-streaked face.

Then he pulled you down.

He entered you in one smooth, overwhelming thrust. You moaned loudly in pure bliss as he stretched and filled you completely. Skeletor immediately yanked your hair back hard.

“Such delicious cunt.” he hissed, bringing his skeletal face inches from yours.

You clenched tightly around him in response. He let out a low, satisfied groan.

“Begin. Slowly.”

You obeyed, riding him with slow, deep rolls of your hips while he lounged like a dark king on his throne. 

The lubrication allowed the movements to be performed without any problem, compensating for the struggle of having to spread your legs so much, and if tilted enough, his tip would hit your cervix just right, making you shiver, resulting in a less precise rhythm. 

A sharp slap suddenly landed on your ass.

“Don’t slack,” he growled.

You increased your pace slightly, focusing entirely on pleasuring him. Your walls are aching from the effort of accommodating his size.

“Yes, my lord.”

And so it is done, your movements are precise, your hips and knees working hard to help you find relief while giving pleasure to your master.

He rested back again, the red light absent. Skeletor has his back fully rested in his skull throne, arms dropped over the armrest. The muscles of his arms twitched slightly, and he breathed heavily.

Your master seemed satisfied; perhaps things would be calmer in the lair during the week. Evil-Lyn and Beast owed you a LOT for that.

“Go faster when you—”

“Master! Master!”

A voice echoed from the entrance of the throne room.

You kept looking at your master, waiting for the end of his order.

Skeletor raises a hand to whoever was down there and then places one of his arms on your buttocks, partially concealing where your bodies were joined as he sat upright.

“Go faster when you feel an orgasm coming.”

You nod.

“And keep the cloak in your next uniform, it will be useful in situations like this.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Although his more upright posture made it difficult, it was easier to move up and down with his arm behind you; it gave you more stability. You tried to make as little noise as possible. Partly so as not to disturb Skeletor while he gave orders, and partly out of shame at being exposed like that.

As the servant Skeletor was talking to was about to leave, a group entered; you shuddered with embarrassment.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Skeletor bellowed, his deep voice echoing through the throne room. With him so agitated, gesticulating furiously with his arms, it became more difficult to remain steady. “Keep the damn cloak in the next attire!”

He wrapped one powerful arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, and threw his own heavy, ash-scented cloak over your back and shoulders, finally obscuring the view of your back and partially obscuring the intimacy between you and him from the group that had arrived.

“Continue,” he whispered hotly in your ear, then raised his voice in fury. “Speak, you miserable pack of incompetent fools! What pathetic excuse brings you crawling before my presence?!”

The humiliation burned through you. Anyone looking attentively could see the way your body moved, the cloak shifting with each thrust. 

It was hard to keep going as Skeletor cursed and yelled at the other servants, his body shifting nonstop. You fell forward, but he didn't push you away; he was focused on insulting all the bloodlines of the servants who were begging for mercy at that moment.

Your face was pressed against the feverish blue skin of his chest; his warmth was almost human, hot and cold, almost as if a body succumbing to the cold in an eternal state of fever.

As he berated the group of servants, his hips rolled up into you in shallow, possessive thrusts beneath the cloak. “Look at your master; even while dealing with you, worthless scum, I still find time to enjoy myself!”

A cool breeze kissed your exposed cunt as your master lifted the cloak slightly, pulling you from the comfort of feeling his skin, revealing to the servants below the obscene sight of your dripping pussy stretched wide around your master’s thick cock.

The wave of shame and arousal hit you like lightning. Your orgasm crashed over you without warning. You trembled violently, biting your lip to stay quiet as your walls spasmed and squeezed him.

Skeletor felt it immediately. He glanced down between your bodies, then looked at the servants with a cruel smirk.

“What a filthy, shameless mess you’ve made before my court,” he muttered, clearly amused, and cracked a laugh. He pulled the cloak tighter around you, but not before making sure the group below had a clear view for a few more humiliating seconds before covering it. 

Skeletor lifted your face with his hand and pressed his teeth against your lips, before moving his hand to the top of your head as your face rested against his chest again. He continued yelling insults at the trembling servants, calling them worthless, incompetent, and threatening horrible fates upon them — all while keeping you covered under his cloak, impaled on his cock, letting you warm him.

Until we meet again

[spitgre]

𝑠𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑘.

warnings ⠀ : ⠀ numerous chapters, ⠀ lowercase intended, ⠀ mature themes, ⠀ slight spoilers, ⠀ smut with plot, ⠀ smut in later chapters, ⠀ third person, ⠀ no use of ‘y/n’, ⠀ elliot is going to be a perv.

the pitter patter of rain hit against the inn’s walls, creating a soft lull for those who had trouble turning towards slumber. it was a peaceful sound to most, but not elliot. it made him struggle — toss and turn until the digital clock turned twelve. several hours had passed, the blond doing everything in his being to fall asleep but all was useless.

a soft sigh escaped past his lips before sitting up, fingers running through his hair. he stretched his neck, head tilting from one side to the other, a blow of air huffing from his nostrils. his mood had run stale and stiff, perched at the edge of bed, slight blurred eyes burning a hole into the wardrobe in front of him. hands resting against the mattress, his fingers tapped to a silent tune, lips slightly pursed, at least attempting of a thought as to what he should do.

again, all seemed utterly useless .. with the roll of his eyes, he stood, another blow of air coming from his nose. “this is ridiculous.” he mumbled, making large, quick steps towards his door. his hand wrapped around the knob, turning and opening with such haste. although for his annoyance and failure at sleeping, he did have to remain quiet. all other guests of the inn were all within a state of slumber, something he wished for at the moment. even so, he made way to the kitchen in hoping to make a cup of tea.

with almost every step, floorboards creaked beneath him, eyes tightly shut and nose scrunching upwards. this was truly unbearable — almost as if the world was out to get him .. as if he were cursed and was hated for no reason at all. it was almost like elliot could hear the rumble of the universe; laughing at him with every step he made and yet finally, he reached his destination. large hands ran over his face, sighing much too loudly, but there was now a sense of relief .. knowing he could conjure up a cup of tea and in fact, be quiet about it.

the floorboards, luckily, did not groan and wither as the others did, elliot claiming a mug before carefully placing it on the counter. in the kitchen, he seemed to be in his happy place. moving to the country in certain years, this part of a home made his heart grow bigger. although he never knew his mother and father, not well enough— he always imagined how time would be spent together .. and if not for his mother dying. his lips twitched lightly, shaking his head to shoo away any and all thoughts of his past.

“right, tea—” he spoke, grasping at the mug before turning around. as he blinked, someone had appeared within the darkness, the man flinching and grip loosening upon the glass. luckily enough, his reflexes in his favor, fingers quickly tightening around the drink ware. for today, the mug was safe. “bloody hell ..” slipped from him, only to gain a chuckle in response. his brows furrowed in confusion and although he’d never admit it, offense as well.

“sorry .. didn’t mean to scare you. heard the floorboards and it woke me up,” it was that of a woman’s voice, then to step into the light, “guess it’s a good thing though— throat was super dry, so i decided to get water.” she continued and elliot tried painstakingly hard for his eyes not to widen. he was awfully curious as to when she arrived, as he hadn’t seen her days before. he’d remember a face like hers. he almost smiled; that of being the culprit but to also meet such a beauty at the dead of night.

“that would be my fault .. i never would have assumed for the home to be old and creek.” he replied, letting out a nervous chuckle. that gained a smile from the woman, “guess we’re even then.” she said, elliot’s laugh growing slightly more hearty. even for the mug still in grasp, he had entirely forgotten about his goal to make tea. his sight was set on her. he almost had to scoff— surprised she’d be out in a thin cotton tank top and short sleep bottoms .. god knew if her skin was riddled with goosebumps and dear lord was he curious.

with a clear of his throat, blinking several times, as he didn’t realize the size of his lump, he gave a kind smile. “i should be on my way then. i was going to make tea, but i don’t think that is very realistic at this hour.” a hand drifted away from the glass, fingers scratching at the nape of his neck. with that, a frown curled upon her lips, a reaction he certainly was not expecting. soft steps hit against the wooded floor, eyes meeting his before her body stopped mere inches from him. “is there any way to have you stay? in all honesty, you seem like the most interesting person here.”

perhaps the universe wasn’t against him. his bottom lip caught between his teeth, it didn’t stop the smile appearing. “maybe when the time isn’t so late ..” his eyes searched hers as she did the same. a temptress. oh, how lust and curiosity crept in but would not give in— not yet. not this easily. even so, a twitch struck in his pants, cock growing hard. letting out a breath, she gave a hum, nod following. “alright then, i do hope to see you soon ..”

elliot was truly fucked.

[brenshor]

Definition of malewife

[spitgre]

warnings ⠀: ⠀lowercase intended, second person pov, slight smut imagery, body worship. no plot. just smut. horny tingz.

oh adam. oh he-man.

he’s an — every part of your body, type of guy. never picky. just like his, he takes great care of your figure, not gripping tightly as his hands sink into the flesh of thighs. you want it, plead for it as if it’s your last day on earth .. on any planet.

his sense is the same — mundane and the swords power. he is aware of his power, the strength that courses through his veins, body and mind. every piece of him takes you in mind before himself, eyes trailing along supple fat, such pretty, perky nipples.

his eyes twinkle at the sound of your moans, calloused fingers playing with the muscle that brings his lover much joy. pleasure. it feeds him, lures him in, your every curve, cell, and noise making home in his mind. he loves your body.

every inch of it.

[st4rfckerz]

you thank adam for taking you out

cw: mdni, oral (m receiving), handjob, adam is awkward

The dashboard lights cast a soft, ambient glow through the quiet interior of Adam’s car, the hum of the engine a low purr against the cool night. It’s been hours since he picked you up, but neither of you is ready to call it an evening just yet.

You and Adam started the night off with a small dinner at some local diner, followed by a long, slow stroll through the park where his shoulder bumped into yours too many times for it to be accidental. Now, the car remains still and you both are leaning over the center console in an awkward attempt to keep your lips locked together.

It’s only been a few dates since you two matched on some random dating app, but feeling the solid weight of him beneath you and the desperate way he’s drinking you in makes it feel like you’ve been doing this forever.

Your fingers begin to claw at the tough denim of his jeans, fumbling blindly with his buttons as you try to get to him.

“Is this okay?” you whisper against his lips, your voice a little breathless.

“Uh, y-yeah sure,” Adam stumbles over his words, his brain completely short-circuiting as his voice cracks with need. He lifts his hips up off the driver’s seat and his large hands come down to help you tug both his jeans and his boxers down to his thighs. He lets out a shaky breath as he’s freed into the cool air of the car, completely exposed to you.

Before he can even process the view, you pool a bit of saliva into your palm, coating your hand before wrapping your fingers firmly around his cock. After giving it a few languid pumps, you eagerly take him into your mouth.

Adam lets out a shaky breath, his eyes blown wide as he watches you work at his cock in absolute awe.

His hands hover awkwardly in the air, twitching with the urge to touch you but unsure where to land in the tight space.

As he finally relaxes into it, he settles a hand on the back of your head, his thick fingers tangling in your hair just to ground himself.

Adam’s head hits the headrest with a heavy thud, a wrecked groan ripping from his throat the second you hollow your cheeks and sink down to the base.

“That’s- that’s really good,” he sighs. You let out a small laugh, sending a sudden vibration straight through him. His hips involuntarily buck up into your mouth and you gag on the sudden intrusion, the sharp sound instantly snapping him out of his daze.

“Oops, s-sorry,” he blurts out immediately, his eyes flying open as he tries to pull back a bit, completely flustered and worried he hurt you.

You can tell he’s getting closer by the way his thighs tense and his fingers tighten in your hair. You release his cock with a wet pop! and quickly replace your lips with your hand to bring him closer. Before he can even register the change, you press your lips to his, catching him in a sloppy kiss.

As he finally boils over, his hand slides down to cover yours, pressing your fingers tight against his skin to help you pump his cock. Adam completely melts into it, his body shuddering under you.

He spills all over your hand, a muffled, needy whine catching in the back of his throat as he pumps helplessly against your fingers, pouring himself out against your palm while you swallow down every last sound he makes.

Looking down at the mess you made together, a wide grin pulls at the corners of his lips. There’s no way he’d let you get away easily, in fact he’s already counting down the minutes until he can take you out again.

[tw1sters]

Time Out

Although you and Clark disagree on all things Superman, you both find common ground in the copy room.

▸ PAIRING & WC: Clark Kent x Coworker F!Reader — 2.1K ▸ WARNINGS: NSFW 18+, public fingering (copy room), Clark is a lil dirty ▸ A/N: thank you for the request baby @theworstwolvie i always love clark getting rage baited <33 made the smut softer because it's clark but god do i want him filthyyyy

↤ main masterlist

You and Clark Kent are not friends. You’re barely even colleagues with how much you bicker and disagree. The two of you get into enough arguments that Perry has to intervene from time to time. 

“This is the Daily Planet, not a playground. If you two don’t start playing nice with each other, I’m gonna have to start doling out time-outs.” 

“What they need to do is deal with their sexual tension,” Jimmy mutters under his breath. 

It’s easy to explain, really. The two of you are simply moral opposites. 

Clark thinks that Superman is doing the world a favor by saving every single living thing. 

You think that Superman is costing the city millions of dollars every time he pauses to think about how to save an alien terrorist’s life versus just taking it out. 

Clark thinks that it’s inhumane for him to do that, because an alien is still a living creature. 

You argue that those taxpayer dollars could go elsewhere, to actually support people on Earth rather than pay for the damages of superhero acts. 

“The time it takes him to save a squirrel or this extraterrestrial that is ruining the city is time he could be spending actually saving our city.” 

Clark nearly pulls out his hair, fingers tugging at his curls in frustration. “You can’t just kill something because you don’t understand it. Their lives — or even a squirrel’s — matter just as much as ours!”

“He’s just redirecting the train to run over five people instead of one,” you drawl out, twirling the pen in your hand. “He’s increasing the risk of someone else getting injured or killed while he’s trying to save lives that are detrimental to society as a whole.”

“No, he’s simply lifting the train so nobody gets run over,” Clark huffs. “It’s a silly thought to think that he can’t save everyone.” 

“No, it’s realistic. Just because he’s a superhero doesn’t mean he makes perfect decisions.”

“I never said he—”

“Oh my god, you guys are still on this?” Lois snaps. The two of you slam your mouths shut. “Clark, don’t you have that superhero policy piece due by tonight? And you, don’t you have to get Perry your ideas for next week’s economics column? Get back to work.”

A truce of sorts. For now. If not for the sake of the Planet, then it would be to avoid Lois Lane’s wrath. 

However, the glares you throw in each other’s direction are nothing short of lethal. Clark Kent is a naive, foolishly hopeful man. Living in a city like Metropolis makes you a cynic. Sometimes you think you might be better suited for Gotham, but you’re even more skeptical of a masked vigilante pretending to be some sort of hero. 

The two of you steer clear of each other until you need to print out your pitches for the team meeting later today (Perry is old-fashioned like that). That is when you spot Clark frowning over the copy machine, jabbing it with annoyance when it refuses to budge.

Seeing him irritated only strengthens your urge to push him one step further.

“Printing more puff pieces on Superman, Kent?” 

His eyes slide shut the moment your words land. You can’t help the satisfied smile that curls on your lips. Another score on the board for you.

“No, I need to get Perry my draft on the superhero policy, but this darned thing is jammed.”

“Maybe you should call your old pal, Superman, to help you.”

You can practically see the steam coming out of his nostrils as he looks up to the ceiling, begging for some form of patience from whatever higher power that exists. 

Unfortunately — or fortunately, as you’re observing him, you notice something rather peculiar. A noticeable… change in Clark’s clothes.

“You’re so—” he inhales deeply, “infuriating.”

“Well, you seem to enjoy being… infuriated,” you smirk, crossing your arms as your eyes fall to his slacks.

Sure enough, his pants are tented with the embarrassing evidence of his arousal. You don’t think he even realized it until then, surprise etched into the rise of his brows. His cheeks flush a pretty shade of red as he turns away from you. 

“Is that it, Clark? You start shit with me to get yourself off.” 

“That’s absolutely not true!” He sputters but his eyes shift to your lips — brief but distinct. “You’re just so vexing.” 

You smile as you take a step closer towards him, index finger landing on his very firm, very broad chest. “Want me to go on about how Superman could probably save the city millions in damages on that observatory if he simply took out that recent cyclops? Might get you to finish untouched.”

Clark’s eyes are a sharp blue as they whip towards you. For once, you feel a shiver snake up your spine at the sight. His gaze has always been soft, tainted only by the frustration you fuel within him. But this look — this one you’re unfamiliar with — and you’re not sure if you should stick around. 

Your throat dries when he takes a step towards you. Purposeful. Confident. “I should probably, um, g—”

“Why are you in such a rush? You were so adamant about pushing my buttons before. Go on. Tell me more.”

Although your lips part, you find your voice has disappeared. It’s cowering in the back of your throat somewhere as he backs you up against the table in the copy room. You glance at the exit, partially praying that someone would save you, partially hoping that nobody would ever see you worried about Clark Kent.

He wouldn’t hurt a fly. He wouldn’t do anything you wouldn’t want. 

But perhaps that’s what scares you the most — how much you actually want this.

There was never any doubt that Clark is an attractive man. Curls that effortlessly fall against his forehead. An endearing, persistent frown on his face. Big, broad shoulders that still drown in his oversized suit. Glasses that slide down his face, one that you’re itching to fog up with your mouth over his. 

All this time, seeing Clark flustered has been the highlight of your day. You love the shades of red that stain his pale cheeks. The annoyed click of his tongue. The tense clenching of his jaw. You’ve wondered before how he would look in bed — if he’d have the same expression in maintaining his self-control. 

“Come on,” he coaxes, voice dropping a pitch lower as he ducks his head. His lips brush the shell of your ear. “Say more, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Your legs press together as a whimper slides out your throat. 

“Not such a smart mouth now, are you? You just needed someone to keep that mouth busy. I can think of a few other ways to do that.”

You swallow. Clark’s gaze latches onto your throat, then dips to your collarbone, where your chest rises and falls with your nervous breaths.

“Are you scared?”

You shake your head.

His smile tips an inch higher. “Excited?”

Slowly, you nod.

“You’re so cute when you’re sweet like this,” he murmurs, hands setting aside his papers as they run down your waist to your hips. He hoists you up onto the table as your hands fly up for purchase on his shoulders.

Your heart is hammering against your ribs, it feels as if it’s about to burst through your skin. Clark tilts his head.

“Your heart is beating so loud.”

Can he really tell? Is it that obvious?

“Can you spread your legs for me?”

Your stomach flutters with something unknown. Something you haven’t felt in a long time. There’s a weight to his voice that has your legs falling open almost automatically. He says it so charmingly, a request rather than a command. Clark’s hand circles your ankle first before they slowly smooth up your thigh, hiking up your skirt around your waist. 

“You’re wet,” he notes calmly. 

You’ve been leaking since you noticed his hard-on; you just didn’t think he’d see the evidence of your own arousal. Heat floods your cheeks as you grab onto his hand to stop him. Yet, you don’t budge an inch, you simply keep him there. 

“Someone’s going to see,” you hiss.

“No one comes around the copy room this time of day. Everyone’s taking their break in the pantry on the other side.”

“But what if someone does?”

Clark grins, “Then you better let me work on you fast.” His hand continues its journey north until it finds itself between your thighs. 

His fingertips are firm but gentle as they press against your clothed core, soaking your underwear further as he digs it into your slit. A moan bubbles up your throat, which Clark quickly drinks in with his lips over yours.

“Gonna need you to keep it down, honey. You don’t want anyone walking in on us.”

Honey. Only he could make such sweet pet names sound incredibly filthy. Fortunately, you don’t have time to second-guess this decision because then he’s working his magic. Awkward, nervous Clark doesn’t shed a single sweat as he rubs along your pussy. He watches your every twitch, every hitch of your breath to his touch. He pushes when you gasp, he moves his fingers when you moan. 

Before long, he’s pushing your panties to the side and easing his fingers inside you. Thick, long fingers that fill you up completely as he buries himself to his knuckles. 

“Gosh, you’re so tight,” Clark huffs against your neck, a breathless chuckle as he curls his fingers. “I can’t imagine how you’d feel wrapped around me.”

The thought of him fucking you — spreading your legs wider, sliding his cock inside you, or maybe bent over the copier with your tits against the glass as he fucks deep into you — has you arching your back with a whine. 

“You’ve always got such a mouth on you. Now, look at you, you’re so sweet for me. I never knew these lips of yours could make such cute little noises when you’re all filled up.”

“Clark,” you rasp, “fuck. Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. Instead, he fingers you faster, thumb finding your clit until you’re practically shaking under his touch. Your hips thrust forward in search of his hand, nearly begging for him to finger fuck you deeper, harder. 

“That’s a good girl. Just needed my fingers inside you, didn’t you? Are you going to be nicer to me now? Now that I know what you sound like when you want something from me.”

You release another desperate whimper as Clark works his fingers somehow deeper inside you. You can feel your juices dripping all over his fingers, seeping through the gaps and pooling under your thighs on the table. Clark inhales deeply, as if he can smell you from this distance and groans into your neck.

“You smell so good. Can’t wait to taste you once you finish.”

Your pussy pulses around him like a second heartbeat, one that he certainly hears and feels, judging by the way he tenses against you. He continues to mutter sweet phrases in your ears, praising you for doing such a good job, scolding you for always being so frustrating, telling you how beautiful you are for giving in to him. 

It doesn’t take you very long to fall apart in his hands, cunt squeezing around him as your teeth sink into his suit-covered shoulder. Clark himself moans into your hair as you do so, body shuddering. 

Then you realize what’s just happened—

“You came.”

He only hums.

“I didn’t even touch you,” you whisper quietly.

“Don’t need to. I like seeing you pleasuring yourself on my fingers.”

You didn’t think this brute could get any sexier, but you’ve been proven wrong. He seems intent on doing that a second time when he draws his fingers out of you, letting your panties slide back into place, before he brings his fingers to his mouth. 

With his eyes locked on yours, he sucks his fingers clean and pulls them out. 

You have to stop yourself from begging him to fuck you then and there.

His dimples deepen as he smiles at you. 

You have to bite down on your tongue to keep your mouth shut.

“Back to the bullpen?” You squeak out.

“Are you going to keep aggravating me?”

“Only if it gets you to get me off.”

Clark chuckles. “I’ll see you here tomorrow at three.”

+ sam: youre the absolute cutest i love u so very much, thank you for this request miss c!!!

clark is saving (taglist): @houseofhyde @phoenix-in-writing @averyhotchner @hailmary-yramliah @catclaw1 @pinksplace @lunexiax @esunarint @nikkitabarnes @lunaryoongie @sergeantsebastian @avgdestitute @natskisses @parker-barnes-af @kelbrave @steviebbboi @onecojg @clarknsun @kryptidfiles @wildflowersandvibranium @stegosaurussims @angelryex @mollymal @evelynstanmarvel @lokisgirlie @lynnidc @winnichu173 @zhaixiaowen @macbaetwo @rach2602 @garfieldhollander @my-drvidess @deeninadream @lillilam @fruitypebsworld @vivshome @ella-rowen @reenielane @smorgasbrods @jbennsquared @royaljewellerycurator @ruptureedspleen @yelanare @take-it-on-the-run @ghostgirlwrites @hellooiosworld

+ add yourself to my taglists!

[vergils-beloved]

selfshipping is cool when you're 13 and it's also cool when you're 40. everyone should selfship forever

[delavegaaaaa]

“You can’t fix him” I don’t wanna fix him! I wanna FUCK him! I’m a pervert not a psychologist!

[delicatetrashdelusion]

i just wear black on black on black on black

[blesssedd]

[lovelornparagraphs]

I need this asshole to gaslight me HARD

[ovoze]

STEVE (BIG DICK) HARRINGTON

no one’s ever doubted what steve’s packing, but you still need to find out for yourself WARNINGS ﹕ mdni (18+ explicit content), smut, fem! reader, little to no plot, bigdick! steve who’s painfully humble about it, oral (m! receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, pull out method, way more words than i intended

©ovoze

you’d never thought twice about it when you and steve started your… fling. all those comments and hushed rumours from all the girls before about what was in his pants.

so what he was packing? that didn’t mean anything to you, nor did it make you want to sleep with him more. five inches or eight, what difference did it really make?

well— maybe you’d thought twice about it when your hand was over his jeans, cupping his bulge — feeling the weight for just a second before he pressed against you.

maybe when your make out sessions had gotten too heated, finding yourself on his lap in the front seat of his car — feeling the bulk of it, tight behind the denim.

juuust maybe when he reached down to readjust before sneaking out of your house — seeing the way his large hand gripped around it before it disappeared from your sight.

but other than that, you never really thought about it— it’s almost like it didn’t exist to you.

not a single thought. not at all.

“holy shit, harrington.”

you’re on your knees in front of him (bad start), his belt unbuckled, jeans and boxers shoved down to his mid thigh.

“what?” he tries to act coy, thumb resting at the base as his eyes flicker between you and the sight — but you don’t miss the small scoff of pride, his lips curling up ever so slightly.

you frown, tempted to back up a bit. “uhh, the fuckin’ weapon in my face right now.”

his brows furrow together in offence. “weapon? what— it’s not—” he scoffs multiple times, looking down to match your gaze.

silence passes for a few seconds too long as he starts to feel a little embarrassed. “would you stop staring and just…” his voice comes out quiet, his hand subtly wrapping around it — either to hide it or encourage you.

“oh i- i don’t think i can.” he swallows, confused and a little flushed. “like… physically.” you add in all seriousness, raising your eyebrows as you keep your eyes on him.

you’ve never seen him so red, stood there like a lost puppy who’d just been told he can’t play. he’s lost for words, his throat dry in the most deathly awkward moment of his life.

“i’m kidding.” you whisper.

“you—” his chest rises with a deep breath of relief. “not funny, like at all.” he groans, running his hand over his face.

you giggle, shifting forward to wrap your hand around him. “i hope that’s not your idea of foreplay.” he murmurs, letting go to run his hands through his hair. “cause it needs some work— i mean like, serious rethinking.”

you tilt your head, pressing your lips to the tip for a small kiss as your hand tugs back and forth gently. “didn’t like the ego boost?”

he’s not as quippy, eyes a little more out of focus as he watches with quiet, shallow breaths. “it was hardly an ego boost.”

“so you’re not turned on by the thought of… being too big to fit?” you hum out, watching your hand gently squeeze his length.

his breath catches, like it isn’t the first time he’s thought of it. “n-no.” he swallows hard as you kiss the tip again, just as teasing as before. “not particularly.” he lies.

you hum out curiously, as if you didn’t believe him (which you didn’t), before wrapping your lips around him — gently sucking. his breath is shallow, uneven as he tries not to let a noise slip.

you suck him down further, feeling the ache in your jaw just trying to take more of him — his cock heavy on your tongue and stuffing your mouth full.

“jesus— you’re not exactly… struggling.” he groans out, instinctively letting his hand spread across the back of your head — resisting the urge to push and feel more of your throat that already has his legs tensing.

it’s addictive. the weight of it, every vein — every pulse. the fact your tongue can’t even reach it all when half his dick has disappeared between your lips. you want to taste, swallow it all down, coat every inch in salivation.

spit pools at the corner of your lips as his dick eases back and forth. he’s more focused on the way you flick your tongue across the bottom, sucking hard — than how deep you’re going. until your lips meet the base, just for a second before you pull back with a gag.

“o-oh fuuck.” his head tilts back, body turning hot with the feeling. “jesus christ.” he whispers out like prayer— like he couldn’t believe what he’d just seen.

you find yourself grinding your hips down, clit rubbing along the seam of your jeans like you were a dog in heat. something about steve packing what he was packing, had you dizzy with need — embarrassingly so as you pull back, hands finding his hips to push him back onto his bed.

“shit.” he whispers as you straddle him, lips locking with his in a familiar haze of making out.

what wasn’t so familiar was his fingers fidgeting to unzip your jeans — hand dipping into your underwear as he pulls away just far enough to whisper against your lips. “this okay?”

you nod a little too enthusiastically, gripping his shoulders as he contorts his wrist, swiping his fingers through your slick before slipping one in. slowly easing, curling up gently till he grazes the spot — hearing the raw moan rip through you, the sound heading straight to his dick.

“oh god… steve.” it’s the hottest his name has ever sounded, coming from your throat with praise and sincerity.

“right there?” his middle finger prods deeper for a second before pulling back, repeating the motion as you grind against his hand — as if all it took was for you to get fingered by steve harrington to shut your gob and reach some sort of new out of body sensation.

his cock lays across his abdomen, under you, leaking with precum for an ungodly sight that has you throbbing even more. “you’re so wet, like… fuckin’ soaked.” his voice is a little strained with sheer lust, clearly more than desperate to have his dick there instead.

he drags his hand out, fingers shiny from your slick. he looks like a deer caught in headlights, cogs turning in his brain as he hesitates. “i tasted you.” you murmur, hooking thumbs into the waistband of your jeans to tug them down as you lean forward to whisper in his ear. “return the favour.”

all the colour from his face drains. throat bobbing, breath shaky, dick twitching. every sign that he wanted to — and did. his face beat red as he sucks his fingers clean, hoping your eyes wouldn’t be solely trained on him as you shuffled out of your bottoms.

but you saw, well enough to know he was holding back from sinking his tongue deep into your cunt for another taste — instead wiping his fingers clean on his jeans before shoving them down, along with his boxers, and throwing them to the floor.

his back hits the bed quickly as you climb on top of him, pushing the hem of his top up slowly as you trail kisses along his torso. “you’re so hot— god… so fuckin’ hot.” he breathes out, almost too quiet for you to hear — fingers running through his hair to push the strands out of his flushed face.

“mm, i think you’re just in a haze, harrington.” you retort, making your way up to his neck where you leave a scatter of kisses and nips — that all make him impossibly squirmy.

his brows furrow in confusion, hands finding their way to your hips instinctively as your bare pussy hovers above his aching dick. “a haze?” he murmurs, unable to pull his eyes away from the sight further down.

your lips curl up as your hand reaches down to tease the tip of his dick against your hole. “yeah, a sex haze.”

there’s no room for a response from him, not when you’re sinking down with your eyes rolled back — feeling him stretch you out and fill you up in a way you never had been before.

sure you’d had sex, and it had felt good — but something about steve, and more specifically his hefty dick, just had you. eager for all of it, greedy even — like you wouldn’t be happy until every inch was inside and you were stuffed to the brim.

“fuck, are you—” he groans, looking down at where your bodies join in disbelief.

“is this…? is this good?” you pant out. a strangled noise comes out, followed by a tightened grip as his eyes screw shut.

but he’s nodding, at your mercy. “shit, it’s… amazing.” he swallows at his own words, clearly not in the right state to articulate himself correctly. “just, uh, never gone all the way.”

you’re beyond confused, before it registers in your brain. “no one’s ever taken all of it?” you can’t help the pride that slips past in your tone.

he shakes his head, scoffing as his gaze locks on the way his dick has completely disappeared inside of you — all sucked in, almost like you were trying to take more that wasn’t even there. “not like this.”

that spurs you on, your hips lifting up before coming back down — establishing a gentle rhythm that feels like fucking heaven.

somewhere in your new found pleasure, clothes start coming off — anything either of you still had on finding its way to his bed or the floor, leaving room for both your lips and hands to explore.

“your dick’s so fucking big, steve.” he groans at that, sultry words fizzling through his body, straight down south.

his fingers dig into your hips the same way yours do into his shoulders, grounding yourself hard as you fuck yourself on him like no one’s watching. but he is. eyes trained on your body, the bliss on your face, the twitch in your thighs as you exhaust yourself. and all he can think about is doing this over and over again with you.

your eyes are shut though, mind in another place — only focused on the feeling of his cock repeatedly hitting the spot. every. single. time. you let your hand pull away from his shoulder, lingering down to circle around your sensitive clit.

it’s an immediate pulse around him, suffocating his dick perfectly in waves. “s-shit.” he grits out, losing his cool as he sees what you’re doing — the feeling making his balls thump and draw up. “oh— fuck.” he does everything he can to hold off, thrusting up into you to push you over the edge.

it’s ridiculously effective. every ounce of built up tension in you snapping in a split second. “steve! oh god—” your words cut off into loud moans, tumbling out as your gummy walls spasm around his dick. your fingers twitching over your nerves to pull you through your orgasm.

you hardly notice as he lifts you up, enough for his dick to slip out — spurts of cum costing his torso as he whines out ever so slightly panicked. “fuck, fuck— mmh.”

only when your hand rushes to tug at his dick does he relax, letting the pleasure rush through him as you pull out the last of his orgasm.

“jeez.” you’re both out of breath, pulling apart your sweaty bodies the second you come down from your highs — you already heading to the bathroom. “you good?” he calls out, sitting up to reach for the box of tissues on his nightstand.

you’re halfway out of the door, heading down the hall to the bathroom on trembling legs. “all good, big dick harrington.” you murmur back, missing the way he scoffs and shakes his head at the name.

( 🗯️ ) thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed !! any and all interactions are greatly appreciated :3

[thepoetandtheproblem]

genuinely freaked out when i seen this

i need to be in his lap bouncing on it

style 🤭

[maiamore]

yeah….

[flofaiiry]

oh nothing just. riding hopper on the couch after a long day at work and he’s absolutely exhausted. far too tired for anything more than just sitting there and letting you use him. one hand lazily guiding your hips and the other on a half drank beer. probably got the football game or something on in the background but he’s not watching it. not really. he’s far more interested in the way you swallow his cock deep inside you, the way you breath catches when your clit rubs for a second against the rough hair dusting around his base, the way you clench around him when he mumbles little praises— all of that is much more interesting than the colts game droning on in the background.

[keeryhours]

call out my name - steve harrington

Steve Harrington x female! reader

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Summary:

No one knows you and your best friend Steve are a thing. In fact, everyone is very much under the impression that Steve is still in love with Nancy. When Nancy calls while Steve is in your bed, you have to keep your secret - and Steve isn’t making it easy.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), exhibitionism?, minor s5ep1 spoilers

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N:

wow it feels SO GOOD to be back! i am so happy to have finally finished something and for it to be s5 steve is just 😮‍💨 i hope you enjoy! thank you @punkrockmlchael for my beautiful banner and @feral4youu for reading and always hyping me up! and i guess thank you syd for the idea but you don’t need a bigger ego smh (i love you)

The tapping on your bedroom window came at 10pm, like clockwork.

You could see Steve’s goofy smile through the glass, waving to you from where he was crouched in the bushes outside. You couldn’t help but laugh as you climbed off your bed, making your way over and lifting the window.

Steve climbed inside with a little less grace than he had when he was 16 sneaking into girls’ rooms after their parents had gone to bed. His ass hit the ground with a low thud before he lifted himself, brushing off his jeans and pushing up the sleeves of his pullover.

“Kind of crazy I still have to climb through your window like we’re a couple of teenagers,” Steve said quietly, resting his hands on your hips and pulling you close.

“Yeah, well,” you said, plucking a twig from his hair before brushing your fingers through it. His eyes fell closed at the feeling, smiling contentedly. “My parents still think I’m a child.”

And no one even knew you and Steve were together yet.

After years of being best friends - strictly platonic - no one thought twice about how close you and Steve were. Everyone knew Steve had harbored feelings for Nancy for years, and thought he still did. It got to the point where Steve and Jonathan argued constantly because he thought Steve was trying to win Nancy back.

Truthfully, that was just Steve. He was a bit of a show-off.

When things between you and Steve had turned into more a few months ago, it hadn’t exactly been your intention to keep it a secret. But with the end of the world scenario Hawkins was currently living, no one was paying that much attention to what the two of you were doing.

And it was kind of nice. Like your own little world.

Steve pulled you closer until your body was pressed against his, his large hands sliding around to grip your ass over the tiny shorts you were wearing. He bent down, his breath fanning across your cheek, making you shiver. He pressed his lips to your neck, and without even thinking about it you tilted your head to the side, giving him more access.

“It’s kind of exciting, though,” he mumbled against the skin of your neck. Your breaths came a little harder, your eyes closing. “Sneaking around…” His fingertips danced up the backs of your thighs, pushing up the hem of your shorts until they grazed the curve of your ass, the edge of your panties. “Having to stay quiet when I fuck you.”

“Steve…” you breathed, hands coming up to rest on his chest. You still weren’t used to the way he made you feel now. The way he made your head spin, your lungs ache, the throbbing between your thighs when he spoke to you like this. There was nothing friendly about the things he did to you.

He murmured your name back in return, and it sent a shiver up your spine. His teeth grazed the skin of your neck, and you drew in a gasp, hands tightening into fists in his shirt.

Steve moved, walking you back towards your bed. When your legs hit the edge of the mattress, you fell down onto it, bouncing softly on the plush material. Your room hadn’t changed much since you were younger, despite your 20th birthday having just passed. You still had the same white frilly pillowcases and fluffy pink duvet. You had been embarrassed about it the first time Steve came over, but there was something he liked about taking you apart piece by piece on that stupid bed.

You moved back to lay on the pillows while Steve kicked his sneakers off. He didn’t take his eyes off you, crawling onto the edge of the bed, running his hand slowly from your ankle up to your thigh. He squeezed the plush of your thigh, pushing your legs apart and crawling between them.

The rough denim of his jeans rubbed against the backs of your thighs as he settled there. He leaned over your body, hand moving up to your hip, then beneath your t-shirt, tracing over the skin of your stomach with an unexpected reverence. His calloused fingertips brushed against the sensitive skin of your sides next, and you exhaled a shaky breath, the sensation like ice through your veins.

“You’re so pretty,” Steve murmured, and you weren’t sure if he was telling you or just noting it to himself. He pushed your t-shirt up just to the bottom of your breasts, pressing featherlight kisses against your stomach. His lips trailed higher, smirking as he felt how hard you were breathing. He pulled back, looking down at you - how did you look so wrecked already?

Disappointed by the loss of his touch, you opened your eyes. “Why’d you stop?” you asked, the pout on your pretty lips making Steve’s own pull into that cocky smirk you knew all too well.

“You’re needy tonight,” he observed, thumb tracing circles over your hip. You could tell it was boosting his ego, which he really didn’t need. “I’ve barely even touched you yet.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, although even Steve could see how weak the protest was. Even though Steve was your boyfriend now - you were still getting used to that - you often fell into that playful bickering from years of friendship. “You’re not that good.”

Steve planted a hand by your shoulder, leaning back over your body. Any teasing died on your lips the second his body pressed into yours, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped when you felt his hot tongue against your neck, right over your pulse point. Your hand shot up to grasp at his bicep, clinging to him tightly.

You could feel the smirk against your skin. “I bet you’re already so wet,” he murmured. He pressed his lips to your neck, nuzzling his nose against the curve between your neck and shoulder. “I bet if I touch you right now, I’ll see just how good I am at getting you worked up.”

“Christ, Steve,” you breathed. As much as you wanted to tease him, to make him work for it, you couldn’t hide what he was doing to you. Your body was reacting to every touch, every word, to an almost embarrassing level. 

His free hand slid back down your side until he reached the waistband of your shorts. He relished in the little gasp you let out when he slipped his hand beneath, into the lace panties you had put on specifically for him, his thick fingers gently tracing through your folds.

“Oh,” he groaned, feeling the proof of everything you’d tried to deny. “God, baby, you’re soaked.” He pulled back to look down at you, his hazel eyes burning into yours with an intensity that hadn’t been there minutes before. “Just for me, huh?”

He pressed his fingers against your clit, already swollen and throbbing with need, and there was no way you could have denied it even if you wanted to.

“Uh huh,” you moaned, looking up at him with every ounce of desire written clear across your face. It nearly took Steve’s breath away, how perfect you looked. He was straining against his jeans so hard it was starting to hurt, desperate to free himself and fuck you already. 

“You make me so hard,” he muttered, his hand moving down until his index finger was pressed against your entrance. Your body thrummed with anticipation, craving to be filled by him in some way, any way, and you could see on his face that he was going to give you exactly what you wanted—

The phone rang, shrill and startling in the charged atmosphere of your bedroom.

“Shit,” you cursed, letting out a deep sigh. Steve pulled his hand from your shorts, sitting back on his knees with a huff and the disappointed look of someone who had just dropped his whole ice cream cone on the ground.

You leaned over the bed to your nightstand, lifting the phone from the receiver. You and Steve exchanged a look before you pressed the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

Your name came through the other end of the line in an exasperated breath. “God, it’s been a day.”

You sat up a little, leaning back against the pillows. “Hey, Nance,” you said, meeting Steve’s eyes. He raised his eyebrows, staying silent. “What’s up?”

“I am just so tired of guys, to be honest with you,” Nancy said, letting out what she’d clearly been holding in for a while. “I swear Jonathan just turns into this…this caveman when Steve is around! It’s like the smart, sensitive guy I fell for is just gone, and all he cares about is winning me, like I’m some…object.”

The speaker on the phone was loud, letting Steve hear every word she said. He chuckled quietly, and you rolled your eyes, kicking his thigh lightly. You didn’t understand the rivalry Steve had with Jonathan. It seemed like Steve just thought it was funny to piss him off.

“Yeah, it’s stupid,” you agreed, trying to give Nancy your attention even while Steve was being as annoying as possible, tickling your feet. You kicked at him again, and he laughed, dodging out of the way. He moved in to kiss your cheek, flopping down on the pillows next to you. “Um…” You tried to tune Steve out, because he was being incredibly distracting. “Have you talked to him about it?”

A sigh. “Of course. But you know he won’t admit anything. He won’t admit he’s jealous of Steve.”

Steve looked way too smug for his own good. You ignored him, holding a hand up to block out his face. He snatched your hand, placing a kiss against your palm. “Of course he won’t. He’s a man.” You glanced over at Steve, who looked mock offended at that.

“And don’t even get me started on Steve.”

You froze at that. Steve raised his eyebrows at you, looking even more amused by the turn the conversation was taking.

“Oh, yeah,” you said weakly, because you weren’t really sure what else to say.

“I know he’s your best friend,” Nancy said, as if she hadn’t talked to you about Steve countless times before. “But I wish he would just move on. We dated years ago, and it didn’t work out. I just wish he would…I don’t know…get over me.”

You and Steve exchanged amused smiles at that - because she had no idea how much Steve had already moved on. “Maybe he just needs to meet someone,” you said, fighting back the giggle as Steve’s lips began brushing over your neck again, down to your collarbone. You swatted at his arm half-heartedly, although you didn’t really want him to stop.

“I’m starting to worry he never will,” Nancy said. “And I care about Steve, I hate to break his heart, but it’s just not going to happen.”

Your breath hitched as Steve’s lips trailed down your body again. As he reached your stomach, pushing your shirt up again and kissing above the waistband of your shorts, you looked down at him with furrowed brows. The mischief gleaming in those hazel eyes was familiar, but rarely a good thing.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice more breathy than you intended when Steve spread your legs, his lips pressing against your inner thigh. Your jaw dropped when his teeth scraped against the sensitive skin, your head falling back on the pillows. Was he fucking insane?

If Nancy noticed how distracted you were, she didn’t say anything. “I mean, he’s a great guy and all,” she went on, “You know that. I’m sure he’s gonna make some girl very happy one day.”

You looked down, making eye contact with Steve as he smirked up at you, slipping his fingers beneath the top of your shorts and sliding them down your legs. A flush crept onto your skin, the room all of a sudden feeling much hotter. Steve placed another kiss on your thigh before he leaned forward, pressing his lips against your clit through the lace of your panties. Your free hand tightened in the sheets. “Y-Yeah, for sure.”

“He’s handsome, funny, sweet, romantic. He loves his grand gestures.”

Steve looked far too smug as he listened to her praises, but he was focused on his mission. He stuck out his tongue, licking your folds through the already soaked material of your panties. You drew in a sharp breath, fighting back the urge to groan. “Yeah, he’s…he’s great.”

“But he can also just be a total…meathead!”

You looked down at Steve then, holding back a laugh. “Oh, yeah, for sure.” It was his turn to roll his eyes at you, but all thoughts of teasing vanished from your brain as he slipped the lace off your body, leaving you bare for him. The cool air against your wet pussy had you clenching your thighs together, but Steve spread them again, looking down at you like he was starving and ready to absolutely devour you.

“I mean, honestly,” she went on as Steve nuzzled against your core, his nose brushing against your clit in a way that made your whole body jolt. “Everything has to be a competition for my attention. It was so stupid, him and Jonathan racing each other up the radio tower. They could have gotten hurt, but all they cared about was showing off for me, like I’m going to pick the ‘strongest man’, or whatever they think women want.”

Listening to Nancy talk about Steve trying to impress her almost made you giggle. Steve loved to show off, that was for sure, but Nancy was definitely getting the wrong idea. You bit back a grin at the memory of how Steve had fucked you from behind in the WSQK supply closet after, hard and fast with the adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

“So stupid,” you agreed. You had to slap your hand over your mouth when you felt Steve’s tongue finally delving between your folds, greedily tasting every inch of you, how sweet and wet you were. His fingers dug tightly into your thighs, fighting back his own groan of pleasure.

“Like a couple of neanderthals,” Nancy sighed. “And it’s making Jonathan into a total pain. He’s just moody all the time now, and it’s because Steve keeps provoking him. I mean, I know you’re close, but don’t you think Steve can be such a…a total ass?”

“Oh yeah, a total ass,” you said. Steve quickly wiped the playful grin off your face when he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking, his fingers sliding between your folds again. The whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you bit down on your hand hard enough to leave a mark when he pressed a long finger inside of you.

Your hips lifted off the bed, grinding against his face and hand like you were desperate for more of whatever he’d give you. He groaned so quietly you could barely hear it, but the vibrations against your aching clit had your thighs trembling. He slowly grinded his hips against the bed while he lapped at your cunt, a second finger sliding into you and curling deep inside.

Your hand with the phone dropped out to your side, Nancy’s voice still somehow audible as she continued on with her rant. You grabbed one of your pillows, holding it over your face and burying your moan in the stupid frilly pillowcase, heat coiling low in your belly. God, he was going to make you cum so hard with that stupid mouth of his.

Steve flicked his tongue over your clit again, fucking his fingers in deep until he was hitting that spot over and over again with a level of precision that only came with experience. It almost pissed you off, how quickly and perfectly Steve could make you fall apart.

Your orgasm was building fast. Your back was arching, body writhing on the bed, breaths coming in hot and heavy. Your thighs trembled around his head, and you let go of the phone to tangle your fingers in his messy hair, giving a sharp tug that made him groan even louder this time.

The vibrations from his moaning, his tongue working over your sensitive clit, and his thick fingers fucking you hard and deep were bringing you to the edge faster than you cared to admit, but it was the whimper he let out as he grinded his cock down hard against the bed that was your undoing.

You let go of his hair, both hands gripping the pillow and holding it tight over your face as you let out the most desperate, needy moans, loud enough that the whole house would have heard you. Steve worked you through it, making sure he drew out every last bit of pleasure, every tremor from your body, tongue working slowly now as he brought you back to earth.

The phone call had gone completely forgotten, until you heard Nancy calling your name over the line.

You pushed the pillow away, grabbing the handset and bringing it back to your ear. “Sorry, my mom needed something,” you said quickly, praying Nancy hadn’t heard any of the noises you had just made.

“Oh, it’s fine, I have to get going anyways. But I’ll see you tomorrow!”

You tried to catch your breath as relief flooded your body. “Yeah, of course. Goodnight, Nance.”

“Night!”

The line went dead, and your body visibly relaxed. Thank god she hadn’t noticed anything weird. Steve was still kissing your thighs, his hazel eyes looking up at you from between your legs with an intensity that made your heart thud hard against the wall of your chest.

The second the phone was back on the receiver, Steve crashed his lips to yours like he couldn’t take it for another second. You could taste yourself on his tongue when he licked into your mouth, kissing you in the most filthy, needy way. He bit at your bottom lip and you moaned, fingers digging into his biceps. He rutted his hips against your thigh as he kissed you, and you could feel every inch of him through the tight denim.

He pulled back from your body, lips and chin still wet with your release and his eyes glazed over with lust. He took in the sight of you, so wrecked and beautiful, laying there in nothing but the loose t-shirt you had stolen from his closet at some point.

“God, look at you,” he muttered. His fingertips traced over your skin with the kind of reverence reserved for something holy. “Jesus. You’re unreal.”

You wanted to scold him for the stunt he’d pulled while you were on the phone, wanted to tell him that was risky and stupid and would have been so embarrassing if Nancy had figured it out, but those thoughts quickly disappeared when he grabbed the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it to your bedroom floor. You almost moaned as your eyes shamelessly raked over his chest, all lean muscle covered by that thick, dark hair you were way more into than you ever expected to be.

“See something you like?” he teased, calloused palm pushing your t-shirt up your body until your tits were exposed. Your nipples hardened in the air and he brushed his fingers over the stiff peaks of them, making you shudder.

“Steve…” you said, breathing his name like a plea. 

“Yeah, baby?” he asked, eyes never leaving your chest. He gripped your breast in his left hand, squeezing it - fit so perfectly in his hand, he thought - his thumb rubbing over your nipple.

“I need you,” you admitted in a whine. You hated letting him see how badly he affected you, because it always went straight to his big head, but you couldn’t help it. You pushed your hips down, grinding against his thigh, desperate for his touch even though he’d just made you cum on his tongue and fingers minutes ago.

“Fuck,” he hissed, pulling back from you as if he’d been burned. His hands moved to his jeans at lightning speed, the clink of his belt buckle loud in the quiet of the bedroom as he undid it as fast as he could. “I can’t- shit, I need to fuck you right now.”

He shoved his jeans and boxers down in one go, groaning as his thick, aching cock was finally freed. He kicked his pants off to the floor, wrapping a hand around himself and giving his cock a few quick strokes as he stared down at your body. He was so worked up from what you’d done, his tip flushed red and a drop of precum beading at his slit that made your mouth water.

Steve leaned over your body, leaning his weight on one strong arm planted above your shoulder while his other dragged the head of his cock through your folds. “I bet you liked that, didn’t you?” he said, his voice a low growl in your ear.

It took you a minute to realize he’d asked you a question, too busy focusing on the feeling of his cock pressing against your entrance, wishing he would just take you already. When he didn’t give you what you wanted, you opened your eyes, looking up at him. “What?”

“I said, I bet you liked that,” Steve murmured, pushing his cock inside just barely, not even a full inch, making you whimper as he pulled back out, “I bet you liked having to stay quiet so Nancy wouldn’t know what I was doing to you.” He dragged himself back up through your wetness, pressing against your clit. You drew in a gasp, grabbing onto his shoulders.

“Steve—“ you said, as firmly as you could manage when every nerve ending in your body felt like it was on fire. “You shouldn’t have done that, it was risky—“

“Your body doesn’t lie,” he hummed, leaning down to kiss along your collarbone, his tongue teasing your skin before sucking a mark onto the delicate flesh. “You were soaking my fingers, baby. I could feel you clenching around me every time you had to stay quiet.”

You shuddered beneath him, like his words sent a chill through you. All you could do was let out a quick exhale as you felt him at your tight hole again, and he gently rubbed his nose against your jawline, breathing in the scent of your body wash combined with the smell of sex.

“No one knows how fuckin’ filthy you are,” he groaned, his low voice rumbling against your skin. “No one knows how much you love getting fucked. No one but me.”

He moved his hips forward in a slow roll, his cock sinking into you inch by agonizing inch. You keened at the feeling, his cock stretching you out — more like splitting you open — and Steve groaned low in his throat, your tight heat enveloping his length like fucking heaven.

“Oh, fuck,” you rasped once he was fully seated inside you. Your thighs were shaking, and Steve gripped the plush skin, hiking your leg around his waist. His forehead dropped against yours, both breathing heavily as he rolled his hips against you, setting a pace that was slow but deep, punching the air from your lungs with each press.

Steve kissed you, only sweet for a moment before it turned hungry, bruising, massaging his tongue against yours and sucking your lower lip into his mouth. You whimpered, and Steve’s hips bucked forward, grunting against your lips as he lost his rhythm already.

“Fuck,” he hissed, pulling back to admire your body as he fucked into you. He couldn’t hold back anymore, hips rutting hard and fast against yours, watching your tits bounce with every thrust. Your bed creaked beneath the movements, joining the sound of the breathy moans you exchanged, his skin meeting yours. “You’re so fucking tight and hot — the best pussy I’ve ever had, baby, I swear to god—“

Your head dropped back, crying out as you felt that delicious drag of Steve’s thick cock in your velvety walls. Every ridge and vein of him, the way he was so big and curved just right, and he always knew the angle to fuck you at to hit that spot every single time.

“Yeah,” he gasped. “Oh, shit. Fuck, that turned you on, didn’t it baby?” His voice was a low rasp, and he grabbed your wrists with his free hand, pinning them above your head. The way it stretched your body pushed your tits out, and Steve groaned at the sight, momentarily distracted. “I think you like the idea of getting caught with me. I’ve never felt you so fuckin’ wet, Christ.”

As much as you wanted to deny his words, your body reacted on its own, pussy throbbing around his cock, making his pace falter and a choked moan break from his lungs.

“You don’t even have to tell me,” he grunted, wearing his best cocky smirk, although the flush on his cheeks and the way his features kept twisting into pleasure gave away how weak he was for you, too. “You’re— oh, shit—“

He let go of your wrists to grab your thigh and hold you open wider, sinking somehow deeper. You bit down on your lip so hard you tasted blood, trying not to be loud enough for your parents to come knocking. Steve’s tongue darted out to lick his lips as he looked down at you, the sweat shining on your skin, your furrowed brows and parted lips, the tiny little moans he was pulling from you with every movement.

“You are so fucking hot,” he groaned, almost to himself. “So beautiful. Fucking perfect. Made for me.”

“Yours,” you agreed, and the word had barely left your mouth before he was crashing his lips back onto yours, both moaning into the kiss, breathing each other’s air until your head spun.

You raked your nails down his back, long red scratches blooming against his freckled skin. Steve moaned raggedly, hips stuttering as he cursed out a breathy “Fuck,” against your lips.

Steve leaned back on his knees, his hands sliding down your sides before reaching your hips, holding onto you with a bruising grip. He pulled your hips down against his thrusts, using your body to chase his own pleasure, the muscles in his neck and chest tightening as he felt that familiar electricity crackling up his spine.

“Say my name, baby,” He rasped. He was so close. “I wanna know who’s making you feel this good.”

“Steve,” you moaned, reaching up and grabbing onto your pillows, desperate for some kind of leverage as you felt yourself about to fall over the edge. “Oh, god— fuck— Steve!”

Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head as it hit you like a wave, pleasure washing over your body like you’d never felt before. You buried your face in the pillow, muffling the scream you let out as your body tightened around him, squeezing his cock tight within your walls.

“Oh, sh- fuck!”

Steve’s body pitched forward with the intensity of his orgasm, catching himself on his right arm, his left hand gripping so tightly onto your thigh you knew there would be bruises. His hips stuttered against you, his cock pulsing inside your tight walls, filling you with every drop of his cum until he had nothing left.

He stayed buried in you, relishing in the feeling, before he finally pulled out, laying on the bed next to you. He was breathing hard as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you against his sweaty chest.

You looked up at him, carding your hand through his messy hair. He hummed, leaning into your touch. He grabbed your wrist as you went to pull away, pulling you closer and kissing you with a surprising amount of tenderness after what you’d just done.

He pulled back enough to look you in the eyes with that grin that just screamed Steve and emotion clear as day in his hazel eyes. “I love you.”

Your heart raced, the way he was looking at you sending heat through your veins in a whole different way from before. “I love you too, Steve.”

His hand rested on your hip, tracing slow circles on your skin. “Maybe we should tell people. About us.”

“Yeah?” you asked, hand trailing through the hair on his chest. “You want that?”

“I do,” he said, leaning forward to place a kiss against your forehead. “We probably shouldn’t let Nancy keep thinking I’m obsessed with her when I’m doing this with you.”

You laughed, the memory of the phone call with Nancy making your cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Okay,” you agreed. “We’ll tell people.”

The idea of going public with Steve, everyone knowing you were much more than friends after years of insisting and proving otherwise, was a little scary. But more than that, you were excited. You wanted to be able to be affectionate with Steve in front of your friends. To kiss him, to hold his hand, to let everyone know how much you loved him.

“Does that mean you’re finally gonna leave Jonathan alone now that he knows you’re not after Nancy?” you asked with a teasing smile.

He looked down at you, his brows furrowed with the level of sass only Steve Harrington could achieve. “Now, I never said that.”

as always, comments and reblogs are so so appreciated!

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[crucifem]

Need to sit on Robert's face while he cums his pants ok i love dispatch guys lol