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i’m sunny and this is just where i reblog my fav fics, nsfw and sfw alike, as well as occasionally writing my own stuff ! pls pls put your age or age range in your bio bc if your blog is blank or ageless i may block since i don’t know if you’re a minor or a bot.
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I'm a bit behind but I took a few days off and wanted to save this prompt for today! On April 11, 2023 I posted my very first ever fic, Only Teasing. It was a short DBF Joel next door and a bit messy, but I had COVID and was laid up in bed reading smut and had so many ideas for my own stories so I went for it. It was so exciting. I remember feeling like an imposter when I first referred to myself as a writer. But I am a writer! I'm still a writer! Even though I've been largely absent, inactive and inarticulate the past yearish, my brain hasn't stopped writing. Doesn't ever make it to tumblr? No, but maybe one day!
Over the last three years I've made so many great friends, connected with people in such personal and deep ways, been encouraged and inspired and loved in ways that feel so gratifying that it's hard to even describe. So many of them are gone now, but some of the ones who remain are very important to me for a variety of reasons. @arcane-fox my sweetheart! My tenderoni! @for-a-longlongtime I'm always in awe of you! @whocaresstillthelouvre why can't we be neighbors standing in the yard in the evening finding critters and/or watching old porn? @milla-frenchy you've been so kind and supportive of my writing and it means so much! @aurorawritestoescape and @mermaidgirl30 you've both made me feel so included! @tateypots you're one of the sweetest and I think I loved you right away, thank you so much for putting this activity together! @covetyou, @rifflovesjoey, @toxicanonymity, @schnarfer, @nerdieforpedro, @maggiemayhemnj, @yorksgirl, @vivian-pascal, @pascalssbabyy, @kewwrites, @wannab-urs, @ghostofaboy, @sin-djarin, @qveerthe0ry, @djarins-cyare, @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog, @lotusbxtch, @sp00kymulderr, @beefrobeefcal, @cvntclip, @xdaddysprincessxx, @bubble-pop-eclectic, @604-647, @bitchesuntitled, @baronessvonglitter, @cxrsed-angel, @evolnoomym, @millercontracting, @sigelfire, @sunshineispunk, @slutsoutgutsout, @easybbgrl, @pinkypromisepascal, @joelsbeard, @criticallyacclaimedstranger, @professionalpromqueen , @gasolinerainbowpuddles, @pedge-page , @almostempty , @mandaloriankait, @dilf-din, @jennaispunk, @bergamote-catsandbooks @tinytinymenace @oliveksmoked @sizzlingcloudmentality @corazondebeskar-reads @umnitsa as well as others that I've missed, and those who have left. Anyone who has ever liked, reblogged, or commented on my posts, sent me an ask, sent me ideas, jumped in my inbox for any reason at all, I think you're just wonderful.
I can't say enough nice things about my friends here. Thanks for being such good folks. If any of you ever need an alibi, I'm your girl.
Billy won’t stop being a complete asshole to your best friend, Eddie—and you would do anything for your friends. So when he proposes an arrangement in exchange for leaving Eddie alone, you agree.
Warnings:
Smut (18+), dubcon, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (m receiving), public sex, facefucking, dacryphilia, mirror sex, voyeurism, coercion, humiliation, degradation, spanking, dom!billy, billy has a filthy mouth, billy is an asshole, bullying (not towards reader), filth fr
Word Count: 3.8k
A/N:
this is dedicated to my beautiful @kirkwhore ! i hope you love it babe!! thank you @punkrockmlchael for my banner, my lovely @meganhartleywrites for being so much help, @28bohemianmoons for hyping me up so much, and all my friends who read this and let me know your thoughts!
Billy Hargrove was such a fucking asshole.
Not that it was news to anyone, least of all you. He was easy enough to ignore at first. Everyone was obsessed with him, he had plenty to occupy his attention. He didn’t pay much mind to you — you were a freak after all, mostly kept to yourself along with Eddie and the rest of the Corroded Coffin guys.
That is, until he decided to start messing with Eddie in particular.
It’s not like Eddie wasn’t used to it. Eddie got shit from everyone. He took it in stride, but it still made you feel bad. He was your best friend, and the sweetest guy you’d ever known. He didn’t deserve any of it.
What made it worse was the way Billy targeted him specifically, drawing attention when he just wanted to be left alone, smacking his books to the ground, ripping up the DND sheets he’d worked hours on—and then look straight at you with that smirk, like he was putting on a show for you specifically.
You didn’t appreciate it.
Maybe Billy underestimated you. Maybe he thought you would just stand by and watch, let him be a show off. The surprise in his eyes was genuine when you cornered him outside of the locker room after basketball practice, pushing him up against the wall with a lot more power than you should have against his much larger, stronger body.
“What the fuck is your problem?” You spat, shoving him hard in the chest before stepping back. He didn’t move.
Instead, he raised his arms in mock surrender, that infuriating smirk spreading across his lips again. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, princess.”
You rolled your eyes at the term of endearment. “Don’t be stupid. You know exactly what you’re doing.”
Billy’s eyes dragged down your body. You stood up straighter—never one to let him intimidate you—but he wasn’t looking judgmentally, like some of the other Hawkins royalty did. He took in your low cut top with the leather jacket, that little skirt, your leather boots. The bold makeup, the perfectly styled hair—and he made an appreciative sound, deep in his throat.
“What?” he drawled, that stupid smirk still on his stupidly handsome face. It only made you want to punch him more. “You got a thing for Munson, or something?”
You scoffed. “You know he’s my best friend.”
“Hm,” Billy hummed, as if he were thinking it over. “I dunno. Seems like a little more than that.”
You laughed bitterly, running a hand through your hair. “Clearly you’re getting something out of it. I don’t know what you want from us, but Eddie doesn’t bother anyone—“
“Not him,” Billy said simply. “I don’t want anything from him.”
You paused, looking at him with a newfound skepticism. “Then what’s the point? What would make you fuck off?”
That smirk spread into something more like a sinister grin, one that had your heart rate spiking in your chest. “I could think of something…you could do to help.”
You blinked at him. “…Me.”
Billy nodded slowly, pushing off the wall. He walked up close to you, switching the power dynamics in an instant as if he’d just been letting you play with him. He backed you up until your back hit the opposite wall of the deserted hallway, his hand coming to rest next to your shoulder as he leaned in. The scent of cigarettes and cologne lingered on his skin, invading your space even more than his body was.
“I think…” he said slowly, looking at you like a predator studying easy prey. “We could work something out.”
You swallowed, suddenly more flustered than you’d ever felt around anyone. “What…what do you want, Billy?”
He smiled, slow and dangerous. “You help me, I help you. And I think…maybe we can start with those pretty lips wrapped around my cock. What d’you say?”
You didn’t think much about Billy could surprise you anymore, but you were stunned. “Excuse me?”
He raised his right hand slowly, as if you might bite him like a cornered animal—which you were considering—and traced his thumb across your bottom lip. Your lipstick smudged ever so slightly, your gaze locked on his blue eyes.
“Come on…” he said, his voice a low rumble in his tanned chest. “You do want me to leave Munson alone, right? What kind of friend would you be if you didn’t…help him out?”
Your eyes narrowed. “You’re an asshole. And a fucking creep.”
Billy chuckled, low and deep and dangerous. Because despite your words, you weren’t pushing him off. You weren’t walking away. And you were still staring at him like you were considering it—like you wanted it.
Even more infuriating was the way he backed off of you, turned around, and walked back into the locker room as if he expected you to simply follow him. Like he knew the invitation was enough, because in what world would you resist?
Fuck him, you thought, even as your legs carried you on their own.
Billy leaned back against the lockers, watching you approach. He slid a hand over the front of his stupidly tight jeans, the bulge straining against his zipper obvious already. You couldn’t help the way your tongue darted out across your lips, like your mouth was watering for it. He didn’t miss it, either.
“On your knees,” he said simply. “Don’t got all day.”
You didn’t know why you listened, immediately sinking to your knees in front of him, the hard tile cold against your skin. You might have bruises there later. Why did that excite you?
The clink of his belt buckle felt deafening in the silence of the abandoned locker room. Your heart was beating so hard you were pretty sure he could hear it. It’s not like you’d never sucked cock before, but not like this. Not at school where someone could walk in at any moment, where anyone could catch you with Billy Hargrove’s dick down your throat.
Before you knew it, his fist was wrapped around the base of that massive cock—even bigger than you’d anticipated, no wonder he was such a tool—and he was rubbing the flushed tip against your lips, his own lips parted in awe, like he couldn’t believe how pretty you looked on your knees for him. For him.
“Open up, princess,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Let me see what you can do.”
He was throbbing in his own grip already, letting out an involuntary groan when you opened your mouth for him. He rubbed the tip of his cock over your tongue, precum already leaking from his slit, his lips curling into that stupid smirk.
“Yeah…” he breathed, pushing his cock in deeper. You opened your jaw wide for him, closing your lips around him, your lipstick rubbing off onto his shaft. “Fuck, yeah, that’s good.”
Once he had his cock in your mouth, he moved his hand to the back of your head, grabbing onto your hair. He wasn’t gentle—nothing about Billy was gentle. You gagged as he thrust his hips forward hard, a rough groan tearing from his chest like something primal and uncontrollable.
“Knew that mouth would feel like this, fuck—“
His thick fingers tangled in your hair, once perfectly styled, now a mess from the way he manhandled you. He guided your head up and down on him while he bucked his hips into your mouth, fucking your face as you gagged and sputtered around him, drool slipping from your lips. The mess only spurred him on more, his rough grunts far too loud for trying not to get caught.
He was so deep, taking everything he wanted from you like he didn’t give a fuck if you were enjoying it, or if you could even breathe. He let out a ragged gasp at the sight of your tears tracking mascara down your cheeks. He had made a complete mess of you, and you both knew it.
“Gonna cum,” he warned in a broken rasp, then his hand was tightening in your hair so hard it hurt, your eyes squeezing shut and more tears falling as he pushed his hips forward completely, grunting as the warmth of his cum flooded your mouth. He kept you there until he had spent all of himself down your throat, hips twitching through the aftershocks.
He let go of you abruptly before he pulled out. “Let me see.”
You didn’t even think. You opened your mouth, letting him see his release on your tongue. Some dripped down your chin, filthy and messy and hot.
“Fuck,” he hissed, his eyes never leaving you as he tucked his dick back away in his jeans. “Go ahead and swallow, baby.”
You did. His eyes darkened as he watched, his chest heaving with his breaths. Then, as if you hadn’t just wrecked him nearly as much as he had you, he smirked again, pushing off the lockers and heading for the door, leaving you there on your knees.
“Clean yourself up,” he called back before he left. “You look like a mess.”
You wish you could say that had been the last of it, that you had kept at least some of your dignity and told Billy that’s all he was getting. But when he came around again, asking for (or demanding) more…
It became a regular thing. Whether it was a quick fuck in the locker room, a blowjob in his car, or Billy taking his time with you when he had the house to himself. It was always transactional, never romantic, and you usually didn’t even want to look at him.
He didn’t like that.
When you climbed into the passenger seat of the Camaro after school, you were expecting another standard hookup, something quick before Eddie started asking questions about where you were sneaking off to. Billy started the engine, peeling out of the Hawkins High parking lot, jaw clenched tight.
It wasn’t like you usually made much conversation, but you felt the need to say something.
“Not driving your sister home today?” you asked, watching the scenery pass by quickly. You wondered if Billy ever even noticed the speed limit at all.
“She’s not my sister,” he grumbled. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “And no. She’s going to the arcade with her loser friends. Have to pick her up later.”
You nodded. Your already short skirt was riding up your thighs, and you could feel the heat of Billy’s gaze on your legs. You were surprised when he reached over, resting his large, calloused palm on the exposed skin. That was new.
The car pulled onto Cherry Lane, Billy parking on the street in front of the little white house with its blue roof and screened in porch. He got out without a word, and you followed, like you would follow him anywhere.
You had been in Billy’s room before, but still, every time you stopped to take it in. It was cleaner than you would have expected the first time you came over. His bed was made, nothing on the floor, his records and cassettes organized. The only hint of a mess was the ashtray on his bedside table that probably needed to be emptied at this point.
He had made a little vanity space next to his closet, his things sitting on an upside down milk crate. Billy was pretty vain, but it paid off. He took care of himself—his hair was always styled, and he always smelled intoxicating in a way that made your head spin.
Still lost in your own thoughts, you startled when Billy rested his hands on your hips, the firm planes of his body pressing against you from behind. You could feel him hard already against your back, his breath hot as he leaned forward and kissed your neck.
His teeth grazed your skin, making you shudder, body melting back into his. His left hand moved around your body, sliding up your inner thigh, pushing your skirt up. When his warm palm cupped you over your panties, you gasped, squeezing your thighs together instinctively.
Billy’s laugh was a low rumble against your neck. “You’re soaked, baby. I thought you didn’t like this?”
The whimper you let out was embarrassing. “I don’t,” you said. “I’m only doing this because—“
“Because you’re a good friend, yeah I know.” You could feel the smirk where he was placing kisses against your shoulder now, pushing the sleeve down to reach more of your skin. “So selfless of you.”
The index and middle fingers of his left hand pressed against your clit through your panties, your hips arching against his hand with a quiet huff. He rubbed over that swollen nub, already throbbing with need for him.
Suddenly, he hiked your skirt up, pressing against your shoulders to make you bend over. He pushed the hem of your skirt up to your waist, his hands sliding over the curve of your ass, humming as he took in the sight.
“Look at that,” he purred. Your body jolted at the harsh slap of his palm against your ass, the burn telling you there would be a handprint later. The thought had you squeezing your thighs together again. “God, you’re such a fuckin’ slut. Like to pretend you’re not, like you’re better than this, but look at you. Bent over for me, pussy soaked from just the thought of getting me inside you again.”
You bit your lip so hard you could taste blood. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right—but you didn’t have to. He already knew.
His hands kneaded the fat of your ass for a second longer before he pulled back. “I have an idea.”
You stood slowly as you felt the warmth of him disappear from behind you. You watched with furrowed brows as he walked over to his mirror, picking it up with ease and sitting it in front of his closet, facing the bed.
“What are you doing?” you asked, your stomach tightening in knots. This was a lot easier when you didn’t have to look at him, when he just bent you over and took what he wanted and made you feel good, but now he wanted…what, exactly?
Satisfied with the position of the mirror, Billy turned around, his hands working at the remaining buttons of his shirt. “Strip,” he said simply. “And get on the bed.”
You did as he said, your gazes locked on one another as you both removed your clothes. The air in the bedroom suddenly felt cold as you crawled onto his bed, but before you had too much time to worry about it, Billy was pressed against you from behind, guiding you onto your knees facing the mirror.
Your breath hitched. You could see everything. Your naked body, the way your tits pressed into the mattress when he pushed the top half of your body down, the way your ass was in the air for him, like an invitation.
And—fuck. Billy’s body loomed behind you, all hard lines and sun-kissed skin. But it was the way he was looking down at you, like he wanted to eat you alive, before his gaze moved up to the mirror.
You watched him grab your hips, fingers digging into the skin like he needed to keep you there. He looked at your body from every angle he could see, before his eyes dragged up, a slow smile crossing his features as he took in his own body, too.
“We look pretty good, huh?” he murmured, hand sliding up and down the smooth plane of your back. “Can’t wait to see your face when I’m splitting you wide open.”
Your lips parted as he rutted his bare cock against your ass. You could feel the slick of his precum against you, before he adjusted, grinding his hard length through your soaked folds. He didn’t bother reaching for a condom—never did, not with you. Said he liked to feel every inch, every drag inside of you.
“You ready for me?” he asked, already panting. He always got so worked up before he even got inside you. You could feel him throbbing, aching, like he might lose his mind if you didn’t say yes that very second.
You nodded. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from that mirror. As much as you insisted you didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to acknowledge what you were doing and with who—you couldn’t look away.
“Don’t get all quiet on me,” he growled, smacking your ass harshly again. The jerk of your body rubbed against his cock in a way that made him groan. “Wanna hear you say it.”
“‘m ready,” you whimpered, but it came out more like a beg. You watched the muscles in Billy’s arm flex as he reached down, wrapping a hand around himself, and then—
Fuck.
You weren’t sure which was louder, the way you cried out as the thick head of his cock pierced you, or the ragged groan he let out as he sunk into your perfect, tight heat, inch by bitter inch.
“Jesus, yeah,” he rasped, bullying his cock into your cunt until his hips were pressed flush against you. Even then, he didn’t give you a second, pulling back and slamming into you hard. He knew you could take it, you’d shown him plenty of times by now. “God, you take it so fuckin’ well. A perfect little cockslut, all for me.”
You made a strangled noise as Billy pounded into you. He was so big and so fucking deep, you could feel him in your stomach. He’d only been inside you for a minute and already you couldn’t think straight, fucking you stupid.
“Billy,” you choked, the only coherent thought you could get through your head. That was all that was in your mind—Billy Billy Billy Billy. Your eyes nearly crossed, mouth falling open in a silent gasp. Billy’s eyes were locked onto your reflection, his blue eyes darker than ever, the sight of you like that sending heat through his entire body.
“Take it,” he panted, skin glistening with sweat. “Yeah, fuckin’ take it. So tight, baby, pussy’s so fuckin’ tight for me, and taking every inch. Fuck—“ A choked moan punched from his lungs, his head dropping forward for just a second before he looked back into the mirror. “God—shit—“
He adjusted the angle of his thrusts and your arms collapsed, back arching deeply as he grabbed your hips and kept fucking into you. Your eyes rolled back, tiny little ‘uh uh uh’s the only thing you could manage. Billy laughed, breathless and lost in the pleasure, his head tilting back to expose his strong neck, tensing with the effort of his thrusts.
He grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head up until you were looking straight at your own reflection again. “You’re gonna watch,” he growled, holding you there. “You’re gonna watch yourself get fucked, y’hear me? Look at how much of a fuckin’ slut you are.”
“Billy, I—“ you choked on a moan, crying out so loud you were pretty sure the neighbors could hear. You watched him watch you, a flush covering his cheeks, neck, and chest. “I can’t, I—I’m gonna—“
Billy smirked, hips rocking into you impossibly faster. The obscene sound of skin on skin filled the bedroom, your cheeks heating in embarrassment at how wet you were around him—god, you could hear it.
“Gonna cum?” he asked, his voice sweet and condescending. “Just from my cock, baby?”
You nodded quickly, that band in your stomach tightening, feeling like you could snap at any second. It felt like a wave was building that was going to take you out completely, leave you ruined and broken and gasping for air. Billy groaned deeply at the feeling of your cunt tightening around him, and he moved forward, pressing his fingers to your clit, making your knees buckle.
“Keep telling yourself you’re doin’ this because you have to,” he rasped in your ear as his fingers worked you the way only he knew how. “Keep telling yourself you don’t like it, that you don’t think about my cock every second it’s not in you. If it makes you feel better, baby, tell yourself whatever you want.”
You saw stars as you came, screaming his name and babbling whatever nonsense spilled from your fucked-out brain. Your walls tightened and throbbed and clenched around Billy’s cock, and you felt his hips stutter before you felt the warmth of his cum spilling inside you. His cock jerked within your tight walls, his moans loud and unashamed as he emptied himself into you.
He rode it out until neither of you could take it anymore, hips thrusting shallowly until he finally pulled out. You felt it—the warmth of his cum spilling from your aching core, dripping down your thigh. You watched Billy’s reflection as he watched your used pussy, still throbbing and dripping with him, and hummed while he took in the sight, committing it to memory.
Your shaking limbs finally gave out as you laid flat on his bed, breathing heavily, still staring into that mirror as Billy climbed off the bed. He cleaned himself up, reaching for his clothes. He glanced over at you again.
“I can take you home,” he said, far too casual after what he’d just done. He zipped his jeans back up and ran a hand through his hair, still a little sweaty and sticking to his forehead. “I, uh, gotta go pick up that shitbird from the arcade.”
You nodded, finally pulling yourself together enough to lift your body from the bed and pick up your own clothes. You didn’t know why, but something about it felt different this time. Maybe because you had finally seen him, actually watched him while you did…whatever this was you were doing together. And now the image of his face when he was inside you was burned into your brain.
“Okay,” you agreed. “Um—“
“I’ll call you,” he said, putting an end to whatever stupid thought might have been about to voice itself. “Tomorrow.”
“I have Hellfire tomorrow—“
“Right,” Billy said, wearing a cocky grin. “Gotta hang out with Munson.” He stepped closer to you as you were just finishing buttoning your shirt. “Let me know if you can still feel me when you’re with him,” he whispered into your ear. Then, before you could even process it, he was gone, keys in hand and walking back towards the front door.
You stood there, frozen in Billy’s bedroom. Some kind of mix between shame and guilt clung to your skin, even though you knew you were only doing this for Eddie’s sake in the first place. That’s still all this was…right?
Fuck.
as always, reblogs and comments are so appreciated!
they were back in the squawk after a failed crawl, nancy and robin had abandoned steve to go find food. abandoned him with jonathan of all people. who for some reason, seemed to hate his guts, and told him every chance he got.
"yknow-" jonathan started from across the room, steve sighed, "here we go again." he murmured. and that just seemed to make it worse, steve tried his best to tune out the incessant whining coming from jonathan's mouth.
"look it's not my fault you're insecure in your relationship-" steve started, venom piercing his tone, and this caught the other man's attention.
jonathan sauntered over to him, anger in his eyes, rage beneath the surface. "say it again, harrington" he barked, voice sharp. steve got in his face, breath ghosting over jonathan's lip, "it's not. my. fault." he said, jabbing at jonathan's shoulder with every word. "maybe, instead of focusing on me, you should focus on nance. it's obvious you can't satisfy her," he argued.
jonathan grabbed steve's jaw, keeping his head towards him, "i can satisfy her perfectly fine," he starts, grip tightening, pulling a whimper from steve. jonathan felt a sick sort of pleasure in the minute fear in steve's eyes. "what's wrong, harrington? scared?" he teased, taking in the sounds, the small puffs of air that were escaping steve's lips. steve groaned, trying to shift away, but jonathan kept his hold on him. "i'm not scared," steve grunted, pointedly trying to ignore how hot the room had suddenly become. "i don't believe you." he smiled wickedly, secretly hoping that he wouldn't pop a boner right here, right now.
jonathan's glare darkened into something else, the anger had fled his body, and was replaced by desire. he pondered this for a moment, grip loosening on steve's jaw, hand coming to rest lightly around his neck. the world was ending, what was there to lose?
in a flash, their lips met. their teeth clashed, and their tongues fought for dominance. steve's hands tangled themselves in jonathan's hair, groaning as jonathan's hand tightened around his neck. the pressure was delicious.
they madd their way to the desk, steve's hips hitting the edge of it, hands coming back to brace himself. jonathan broke the kiss to revel in the sight of a disheveled steve harrington. it was every day that you saw mr. perfect looking so desperate for something he shouldn't want.
"i'll show you just how satisfying i can be," jonathan breathed, hands flying down to unbuckle steve's belt, undoing his jeans and shoving them around him ankles. "jonathan," steve gasped, making him pause his movements, "i still don't believe you," he teased, shit eating grin spreading across his features. jonathan scoffed, "your purple dick says differently," before turning steve around and bending him of the the desk, knocking off the trinkets and other items that were cluttered on it.
jonathan spit on two of his fingers before pressing them against the tight ring of muscle, other hand gripping steve's hips so hard it'd leave bruises. he forced his fingers into steve's entrance, ignoring the whimpers of pain that echoed off the desk. he pumped them slowly, curling them around the way nancy taught him. and she taught him well because soon enough those moans of pain turned into moans of pleasure.
"j-jon, i" steve gasped, "please, i."
"look at you, going all brainless just from a few fingers, still don't believe me?"
steve tried his best to fire back, "still waiting for you to prove it," he said, but it came out more desperate than he intended.
jonathan stalled his movements, pulling his fingers from steve's hole. he grabbed him by the hair, standing him up and turning him around. steve was a delight to see like this, hair a mess, drool running down his chin, pupils blown wide with lust. putting his hands on steve's shoulders he forced the jock to his knees, "get it nice and wet, steve" he ordered, hands undoing his own pants, forcing them down his thighs, dick springing free from his boxers.
steve was face to face with jonathan byers's dick, and he'd be lying if he said his mouth didn't water. he didn't waste any time, lunging forward taking jonathan into his mouth. it wasn't great, there was too much spit, and teeth that grazed a little too sharply to feel good, but it did the job anyways.
jonathan pushed steve off, "stop, i haven't finished my job yet. stand up, over the desk, harrington." he ordered, pulling steve's hair as he stood.
steve got into position, chest against the cool wood of the desk, hands gripping the edge, knuckles going white as jonathan slid into him. he let out a long, whining moan, no longer trying to hide the pleasure he was feeling. "fuck, steve," jonathan rasped from above him, hips beginning to move slowly.
"you still haven't proved yourself, byers"
the slow pace was soon abandoned for a bruising rhythm, the sound of skin meeting was sinful, and the moans coming from each man were pornographic. "fuck, fuck, more please," steve begged, and who was jonathan to deny him? he pulled out almost completely before snapping his hips, forcing his dick back into steve relentlessly. he bent over slightly, reaching for steve's hair, loving the noises that came from him when he pulled on it.
steve was getting close, jonathan could tell from the way his walls were clenching around him. "yeah, let it go, steve. let me make you feel good," he purred, "let me satisfy you." he let go of steve's hair, reaching around to grab steve's dick from in between his body and the desk. he tugged on it, once, "oh, fuck jonathan." twice, "i- oh my god, fuck. i'm gonna cum," jonathan wiped his thumb over the head of steve's dick, and that was it. "yes, yesyesyes," steve breathed, white hot pleasure enveloping him, sticky cum painting the desk and jonathan's fist. his walls clenched even tighter, bringing jonathan to his own climax, "shit," his hissed, shooting his load deep inside of steve. "i still have you," he said, breathlessly. steve scoffed, "wouldn't want it any other way," but the fondness in his tone gave him away.
it took a moment for them to catch their breath, before jonathan finally pulled his softening dick out of steve, who was collapsed on the desk infront of him, ass out for anyone to see. wiping his hand off with a tissue, jonathan pulled his pants up, tucking himself away before smacking steve's ass. "better clean yourself up before the girls come back" he said, watching as steve pulled himself up and shuffled over to his discarded boxers and jeans, chest still heaving from the events that occurred.
the two sat on the couch in silence, waiting for nancy and robin to return from where ever they had gone, neither could remember now. "so..." steve started, "nancy and i broke up" jonathan said quickly, avoiding steve's eyes. "oh. uh... sorry about, uh. sorry about that." steve said awkwardly. "uhm, i'd like. i mean, if you'd have me," steve stuttered, "i'd like to do that again... maybe." he finished, eyes slowly turning to jonathan. "yeah. uh. me too." jonathan said, meeting steve's eyes, cracking a small smile, sharing a quiet moment, lips meeting sweetly, shyly, a burning contrast to the actions 15 minutes ago.
"we're back, lovebirds!" robins voice bounced off the walls, forcing them away from each other, but a shared look knew they'd be close again soon enough.
it really did start with “just making out.” one tipsy movie night at his place, you’re both laughing about how long it’s been since either of you got laid, and suddenly he brings the idea up, “…wanna practice? like—purely hypothetical. so we don’t embarrass ourselves next time.” you roll your eyes but you’re already shifting closer. first kiss is clumsy and giggly. second one isn’t. by the third he’s got you straddling his lap on the couch, big hands squeezing your thighs, kissing you like he’s starving and you’re the only thing on the menu.
he’s the one who first suggests “prepping you.” says it so casually: “just wanna make sure you’re taken care of if some asshole ever gets lucky, y’know?” fingers you slow and focused on his couch, telling you to “relax, baby, i’ve got you” every time you tense up. he’s annoyingly good at it—watches your face the whole time, asks quiet little questions like “this okay?” and “here?” until you’re shaking and soaking his hand, whispering his name like a prayer.
the first time you return the favor he tries to act chill about it. fails miserably. you’re on your knees between his spread thighs, his jeans shoved down just enough, and the second your mouth touches him he lets out this broken “fuck—sweetheart—” and his head thumps back against the wall. his hand ends up cradling the back of your head—not pushing, just holding—like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he lets go. he comes embarrassingly fast and spends the next ten minutes apologizing and kissing you stupid.
after that first blowjob there’s no going back to “just friends.” now every sleepover has an unspoken rule: clothes come off at some point. he eats you out like it’s his new favorite hobby—spreads you on his bed, hooks your legs over his shoulders, groans into your cunt every time you pull his hair. calls you “pretty” and “perfect” against your clit until you’re crying his name.
he gets possessive in the quietest ways. starts leaving hickeys in places your work clothes can’t hide. when you whine about it he just smirks and goes “good. let ‘em know you’re taken care of.” you call him a caveman. he fucks you harder that night.
the first time he slides inside you raw (after weeks of “just the tip” torture), he almost blacks out. buries his face in your neck muttering “fuck, fuck, you feel—fuuck, baby—” and has to stop moving completely for a minute so he doesn’t come instantly. you tease him mercilessly. he punishes you by fucking you slow and deep until you’re begging, tears in your eyes, telling him you can’t take it anymore. he still doesn’t speed up—just keeps that devastating rhythm while whispering “yes you can, you’re doing so good f’me.”
you both pretend it’s still casual. you’ll be watching a movie, his hand will slip under your shorts, two fingers curling inside you while he pretends to pay attention to the screen. you’ll be making breakfast in his kitchen wearing nothing but his jersey and he’ll bend you over the counter without a word. neither of you says “i love you” yet—but he fucks you like he’s been in love with you since sophomore year.
he’s obsessed with coming inside you now. every time. growls “gonna fill you up, baby—fuck—gonna keep you dripping with me” while his hips stutter and he pins your wrists above your head. afterward he stays buried deep, kissing you lazy and sloppy, telling you to “just stay for a little while, yeah?”
you’re still “best friends.”
you just happen to be the kind that regularly fuck each other stupid.
I know you’re on hiatus take all the time you need sunshine, but just know that I miss you and I love you and our server is always open if you wanna talk
have you seen any Pedro movies this summer??
i’m sorry i’m literally so late answering this. i haven’t watched anything new yet but i gotta finish The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent. i gotta catch up on all the older movies lmao
I loooooooove the unbearable weight of massive talent lol.
After I saw that movie, the next movie I was Nicolas Cage was long legs… Which let me tell you truly showed the range between the two characters LMFAO!
I’m doing pretty shitty but it’s fall so what can u say 😂
that’s so real but im sorry you were doing shitty when you wrote this,i hope you’re feeling better now and you can enjoy the holidays if/however you celebrate 💖
I know you’re on hiatus take all the time you need sunshine, but just know that I miss you and I love you and our server is always open if you wanna talk
have you seen any Pedro movies this summer??
i’m sorry i’m literally so late answering this. i haven’t watched anything new yet but i gotta finish The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent. i gotta catch up on all the older movies lmao
probably gonna go on hiatus for a little bit. i’m not well at all. i’ll be ok but the internet isn’t good for me when im like this. alternatively, i might be back tomorrow because i was being a dramatic ass bitch and things aren’t as bad as they seem rn. we’ll see. take care of yourselves everyone
i’m doing a lot better than i was when i wrote this but i don’t really like tumblr rn/still don’t think it’s good for me along with other platforms so maybe i’ll try to check in more often but my semi hiatus is probably gonna be more of a temporary hiatus. temporary because i’m sure i’ll be coming back, just not now. ily all. take care of yourselves and feel free to reach out to me on discord if you have my dc ♡
who would absolutely hate to watch a woman be with a man who didn't love her, especially when he knows he can do so much better with you sweetheart, knows he can treat you right, you just gotta give him a chance
🤡pls kill me, additionally have a good time tanning <3
I TANNED BEAUTIFULLY. and this made me so excited ahhhhhh. i love gator too much. this might be softer than you wanted so pls tell me if u want it to be darker but <3
18+ pitiful gator tillman, insinuated that reader has a shitty bf, groping/fingering, hurt/comfort kind of, not proofread
You should’ve known he’d show up.
He always does, even when you tell him not to. Especially then. Gator’s standing by your car like he’s been there all night, arms crossed tight across his chest, like he’s holding himself together. Like if he lets go, he might unravel right there on the pavement.
“You okay?” His voice is too soft. Too careful. He steps toward you with wide, hopeful eyes that don’t match the blood smeared on his sleeve.
You look at him, then the smudge, then back. “What did you do?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just looks at you like you hung the moon, chest heaving like he just ran a mile.
“He don’t get to touch you like that,” Gator says, voice thick with something you don’t want to name. “He don’t get to make you cry and keep breathin’ after.”
You take a shaky step back, and he follows. Doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Like gravity. Like obsession.
“I’d never do that to you,” he murmurs. “I’d treat you right. Like you deserve. You just gotta—gotta let me show you, sweetheart. Please.”
His hand hovers near yours like he’s scared to touch you without permission. And that’s the thing, isn’t it? He wants to be gentle. He tries. But there’s blood on his shirt and something sharp in his eyes, and you’re not sure which part of him is more dangerous — the violence or the tenderness.
You don’t answer him. You can’t. Your mouth is dry, your hands clammy, and your heart’s beating too fast to let the words out right.
He notices.
Of course he does. Gator notices everything when it comes to you. The way your bottom lip trembles, the way your eyes flick to his stained shirt again, the way you clutch your keys like they’re gonna protect you.
His voice drops even lower. “Hey now… don’t be scared. I—I ain’t never gonna hurt you. Never you.”
He says it like a vow, like it’s sacred. Like your fear is the worst thing he’s seen all night. Not the blood. Not the body. This.
“I just got… I get real wound up when I think about him touchin’ you. Talkin’ to you like he owns you. Like you’re somethin’ he can use up and toss out. You ain’t that. You’re—you’re good.”
His hand finally makes contact. Just the edge of his fingers brushing your wrist, barely there, like he’s afraid you’ll bolt if he grabs too tight. He looks at the contact like it’s holy. Like you’re letting him touch gold.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes, brows pulling together. “I know this ain’t how it’s supposed to go. I was supposed to earn it. Be better than him without… all this.” His jaw ticks. He looks down at his boots. “But I seen you cry, and I—I couldn’t just stand there. I couldn’t.”
There’s a crack in his voice. You’re not sure if it’s guilt or shame or some twisted version of love, but it’s raw.
Then he’s looking up at you again, eyes wet, mouth trembling into something like a smile.
“Let me take you home,” he whispers. “Just let me be good to you tonight. You don’t gotta say nothin’. Just… let me.”
And that’s the most dangerous thing of all. Not the blood. Not the violence.
The way he’s begging. The way he believes, so deeply, that what he’s done is love.
You shake your head slowly, still backed halfway against your car, still gripping your keys like a weapon. “Gator,” you say carefully, voice barely above a whisper, “this ain’t normal.”
He blinks. “What ain’t?”
“You can’t just… hurt people. Even if they’re awful. Even if they hurt me. That’s not how this works.”
He flinches like you slapped him.
“I know,” he says quickly, panic flooding his face. “I know, I swear. I ain’t proud of it. But he was gonna keep hurtin’ you, and I couldn’t—” His voice cracks. “I couldn’t just keep watchin’ you fade.”
Silence stretches between you, thick and heavy.
“I’m not yours,” you murmur. “You act like I am, but I’m not.”
He nods, fast, like he agrees, but then steps closer anyway. He’s too close now, the scent of sweat and gunpowder and something coppery clinging to him, but underneath it all—there’s you. That same smell you always leave on his shirts when he’s lucky enough to hug you. Warm. Sweet. Real.
“You could be,” he whispers. “I’d be so good. Better than I was tonight. I swear to God, sweetheart. Just give me a chance.”
You shouldn’t. But your legs feel weak, and there’s something in his eyes—something wild and broken and soft—that makes your stomach twist.
“…Fine,” you whisper. “But I need to wash this night off me first.”
His whole face lights up like a little boy who just got picked first in tee-ball. “Course. Whatever you want. Got bath salts at the house. Real lavender kind. You like those, right?”
You nod, slowly. He opens the truck door for you like a gentleman, careful not to touch you again, not unless you ask him to.
---
At the house..
It’s quiet. Cleaner than you expected. He brings you a towel, fresh clothes that probably belong to someone else but smell like fabric softener and pine. His voice stays low, reverent, as he turns the taps in the bathroom.
“Water’s warm,” he murmurs. “I’ll wait outside if you want me to.”
But when you don’t say anything, don’t move to undress, he hesitates. “You okay?”
Your throat tightens. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Something dark flickers behind his eyes—possessive, protective—but he reins it in. “Then I won’t leave.”
You undress slowly. He watches. Not in a leering way—but like he’s memorizing a miracle. When you step into the water, you sigh, muscles unraveling inch by inch. The lavender scent rises around you like fog.
He kneels beside the tub, rolls his sleeves up. “Let me wash your back.”
You nod.
His fingers are gentle. Too gentle for a man who did what he did hours ago. He runs a wet cloth over your skin with a kind of quiet awe.
You tilt your head back, eyes fluttering shut.
“See?” he whispers, leaning in, his breath on your ear. “I can be soft. I wanna be soft for you.”
You turn to look at him. There’s something molten in your stomach now, something slow and dangerous. His eyes are wide, pleading.
“You want me?” you ask, voice barely there.
His breath catches. “More than anything.”
“Then join me.”
He hesitates only a moment—just long enough to make sure you mean it—then he strips, slow, reverent.
He settles behind you in the water, and the tub barely contains him. His thighs press up along the outsides of yours, caging you in gently, and his chest—broad, solid, still damp with sweat and steam—presses against your back.
He nuzzles into your shoulder, murmuring against your skin. “You feel like a dream.”
You feel the strength in him immediately. The way his muscles flex when he adjusts his position, arms shifting on either side of you as he finds the right angle. His body is tense, not out of lust but restraint—like he’s terrified of doing too much, of touching too fast, of ruining whatever this fragile moment is.
he breathes. “I don’t wanna ruin nothin’—”
And then you lean back into him.
A shudder runs through him. His chest rises with a sharp breath, but his arms soften around you, biceps no longer tight with tension. One wraps across your stomach, protective and possessive, the other lifts, knuckles grazing your collarbone.
You tilt your head to the side, eyes fluttering shut as he presses a kiss there. Then another, just beneath your ear. Every touch is deliberate. Sweet. Like he’s reminding himself that you’re real.
“You feel so good, sweetheart,” he whispers, breath trembling against your skin. “Been thinkin’ about this. Not just the touchin’. Just… holdin’ you. You lettin’ me hold you.”
You egg him on by shifting against him. wet plush thighs spreading little for him. “Please,” you whisper. “Show me how good you can be.”
His hand drifts down, slow as syrup, between your legs. Not greedy—careful. Like he’s exploring, learning. Two fingers pushing your puffy soft lips apart— the inner most finger slips between your folds, sliding back and forth in smooth, wet strokes. His breath stutters again when you arch into him.
You try not to let him hear the sound it pulls from you. The pitiful whimper that vibrates through you.
“Just like that,” he says, voice barely audible over the slosh of water. “Let me make it good for you, sweetheart.”
Your hips move with him instinctively, and his chest presses tighter against your back. You feel every twitch of muscle, every flex beneath soft skin as his body tries to stay calm—tries to hold back how much he wants. His cock is hard against your lower back, twitching, but he doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask.
He just keeps rubbing, slow and steady— After some time of listening to whine and watching you tremble. Gator eases two of his fingers into your weepy hole.
“Shit” He says breathlessly, feeling your hot wet walls clamp around his two middle and index finger
“God, you feel like heaven,” he murmurs, rocking his fingers into you with a reverent rhythm. “
“You’re mine now, aren’t you? Gonna let me take care of you?” He Hums curling his fingers a little deeper now. Watching every breath you take like it’s gospel.
All you can do is nod. Head leaned back against his chest, panting pitifully at the feel of his calloused thumb rubbing slow circles against your clit.
“Yours Gates.” The short sentence hardly makes sense but it surges through him. “Always been yours.”
The bathwater laps quietly around your hips, steam curling in the air as you settle back against him. Gator’s body is a furnace behind you—solid, bare, and trembling with restraint. You feel the tension humming in him like a live wire: the way his thick chest rises and falls against your back, how every muscle flexes when you shift, then slowly softens when you relax into him.
You tilt your head, exposing your neck, and he kisses it like it’s a confession. Soft. Slow. So fucking tender.
The strokes are gentle, reverent. Then more. He explores your swollen, velvety soft pussy like he’s learning your body from memory already forming.
Your breath hitches. Your hips start to move with him, and the sounds you make—quiet, choked, real—have him whispering your name like a prayer.
“Gator,” you murmur, voice small and aching. “I want you inside me.”
His hand falters.
You feel his whole body tense behind you, like he’s frozen. Then slowly, he shakes his head, jaw clenched tight with effort.
“No,” he breathes, like it hurts. “Not yet.”
Your brows furrow, and you start to turn toward him, but he tightens his arms around you just enough to keep you facing forward—held, cradled, safe.
“I want it, I do,” he whispers, voice ragged. “You don’t know how bad I wanna be inside you right now. I’m—fuck, I’m losin’ my mind holdin’ back.”
You feel the hard press of him against your back, twitching, straining, desperate.
“But I can’t,” he says. “Not ‘til I learn the rest of you. Not ‘til I earn all of it—all of you.”
His voice cracks on the last word. He presses his forehead to your shoulder, panting softly against your skin.
“I need to know what it feels like when you trust me, not just want me. I wanna learn you slow. Wanna worship every inch. Let me show you how good I can be, sweetheart. Please.”
He shifts slightly, his free hand running up your thigh now, then across your belly, then cupping your breast with aching care. Fingers pinch and twist at your puffy nipples, sending shivers down your spine. His mouth moves along your neck again—lips barely brushing skin, like he’s afraid to leave a mark.
“I’ll make you cum as many times as you want,” he murmurs, voice hoarse with hunger. “You just lay back. Let me love on you a while.”
And with every slow, deliberate touch—every trembling breath in your ear—he does. He holds you through it. Murmurs sweet, Southern filth into your skin as you fall apart in his arms, again and again. And the whole time, he never once lets himself take.
Because Gator Tillman, in his twisted, aching devotion, needs to prove he’s not just another man who wanted your body.
He wants you.
All of you.
And Gator—sweet, violent, trembling Gator has you.
Dave York x Frankie "Catfish" Morales (puppy play, hand job, dry humping)
---
"Good boy," Dave coos with a grin. "You're being so good for me." He speaks through hungry, gritted teeth. "I'm so proud of you." He strokes Frankie's neck up and down--palm gliding gently over the larynx protruding out as Frankie tilts his head back.
Frankie's breaths are steady. His cock grows harder as he's forced to keep still--as he keeps himself still. For Dave. He wants to squirm, stroke the tip of his hardness against the fabric of his pants--but Dave wants him fixed in place. Static.
Heh. Static. That's all that Frankie really feels. A hot, burning static prickling across his cheeks, his chest, his skin. Dave had crawled his way into the back of Frankie's mind, tuning his dials and altering his frequencies to fuzzy surrender.
"No-no-no," Dave tuts with pouty lips. "Keep your mouth open. Be a good boy. Come on." Dave tapped his hand on Frankie’s cheek--not hard enough to be painful, but hard enough to be audible.
Frankie has to close his eyes a moment to focus, to release his bottom lip from between his teeth and exhale. With effort, he lowered his jaw and exposed his tongue for Dave to see.
Dave chuckled from deep in his throat, smirking. "Good boy, 'Fish." He hummed. "Panting like a puppy." He leaned down and licked into Frankie's mouth, causing Frankie to whimper something desperate. "Good boy, puppy," he whispers into Frankie's ear. "Good boy." Dave stands and grinds his hard cock into Frankie's shoulder. "Is my puppy hungry, hmm?" He taunts Frankie. Won't let him turn around or squirm or move his hands. "Does puppy want his treat?"
Frankie wants to cry--so overcome with need for Dave's attention and affection.
Instead he howls--a sharp desperate wet noise flinging out from his vocal chords and dragging back in like he was casting a line out from a fishing pole.
Dave drops to his knees behind Frankie, releasing a hot heavy growl as he cleanly undoes the button and zipper on Frankie's pants. He presses himself into Frankie--his clothed cock on Frankie's bound hands. His chest into Frankie's back. His cheek to Frankie's cheek. He wraps his fingers around Frankie's cock, causing Frankie to yelp.
"Good boy," Dave grunts as jerks Frankie off with swift strokes. "Such a good boy for me." He grinds himself against Frankie's hands at the same rhythm.
Frankie can't move. Can't interrupt. He has to stay completely still and take whatever relief Dave offers. And today, Dave moves with the same desperate desire that Frankie feels inside. And suddenly Frankie falls apart completely.
Because Dave wasn't doing this as a favor for Frankie. Dave wants Frankie, too. And the relief it gives Frankie makes him come, an orgasm from deep inside the most hidden parts of himself.
Next thing he knows, Dave’s kissing him hard--his hand, covered in Frankie's come, is holding his cheek in place. Dave’s moaning and his body is stilling in a way that tells Frankie that Dave is coming in his pants.
Dave pulls away slightly, his eyes hazy and crinkled at the edges. "You're my best boy, 'Fish." He presses his forehead into Frankie's as he catches his breath. "All mine."
after @gutsby 's recent disappearance, i decided to compile all of her fics that i could find, originally for my own reading purposes because i, too, loved her fics. in light of all of the distraught posts and comments that have followed, i have decided to create and post this list for easy access (through compiling already existing findable reblogs, i haven't copied, downloaded, or reposted anything, i'm just putting everything in one place). discovering that you're suddenly unable to reach a favorite blog or never got to finish a well written fic sucks, so i hope y'all are able to find what you're looking for here. if you have any fics of hers reblogged that i've missed feel free to send them my way so i can add them here.
please note these might only be expandable/readable on desktop.
Waiting Game: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Extras More Extras Even More Extras Another Extra
chapters 1-8 can also be found on her ao3 which is still up!
Make It Stick: Prequel Part 1 Part 2 More Old!Joel Even More Another
🌸 Seeing Pink: "Joel steals more of your innocence every day. Fortunately, you love to give as much as he loves to take."
📺 My Body, His Choice: "After a long day, Joel just needs some relief."
🌡️ Cabin Fever: "Joel saves your life, but help comes at a price."
💧 Brighter Times: "You've always been Joel's favorite. Always."
🚸 Love Tap: "Old habits die hard with your husband–touching you at inappropriate times is one of them."
📚 Wants and Needs: "Bills are high; your dad's boss wants to help. How you pay him stays between you and him–for now."
🍼 Cry, Baby: "Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That's all."
🧺 Who's Your Daddy?: "You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out."
🍑 Just Peachy: "Joel's got a jealous streak and a bold idea."
🍺 Cowboy Killers: "On a mission to find–and fight–your best friend's lying, cheating boyfriend at the bar, you end up throwing your drink in the wrong face and landing in a sticky situation with Joel Miller, who never plays fair."
💵 Easy to Please: "Months pass, and you can't make rent–again. You find another way to pay your sleazy landlord. Again."
🍍 If You Like Piña Coladas: "You secretly make Joel a profile on Hinge. Then he shows you exactly why he doesn't need one."
⚾️ Heavy Hitter: "A kick in the dick is a strange way to get a man's attention, but Coach Miller doesn't mind at all."
🎬 Too Close for Comfort: "You've been babysitting Sarah Miller forever. One day, you're surfing the web on her dad's computer, and you find some...unusual things in his search history."
i'm trying to say this in good faith but i personally feel like posting asks about who 'potentially' runs the confessional blog or people who liked posts from the blog while blocking out the names just feels like posting it for the sake of allowing more drama to fester. drama for the sake of drama, i guess?
if people want to name and shame then they should do it with their chests if they're so confident about who they think is behind the blog or if they see people interacting with it.
See also.
In my time on tumblr, I've been harassed relentlessly in a wide variety of formats. I spent most of my time here ignoring it with the intention of letting it burn itself out and not drawing attention to it. Last summer, when many people were targeted by this type of blog, I initially reacted the same way for the same reasons, but other targeted people made it clear they felt alone and unsupported that people were silent. That one didn't go away until it doxxed someone and everyone came together and reported it.
People are afraid of these anonymous cowards, and with no one talking back or standing up to them, they have all the power. The fandom becomes a dismal wasteland and isn't fun to be in except for to these bullies who get off on making it that way. Rather than shutting up as usual or just fucking leaving, I'm running my blog as I see fit..... and since this is my personal blog and not somehow public property by way of it being popular, I'm comfortable making my own decisions. Worry about your own blog. ✌️
