I swear to god you were on demon mode when you wrote the multiverse conclusion. My jaw is literally on the floor. I have to compose myself otherwise I’ll just keyboard smash my phone in hysteria.
The way you write makes it so easy to envision the scene in my head, like word for word you set it up so perfectly that I’m like oh okay so I’m really seeing all these Butchers take on one Homelander. That’s ace, that’s juice, that’s every single compliment I can think of.
I can’t wait for the sequel oh my god oh my GOD. All those HLs with one Butcher? HL on HL? The possibilities are endless. Thank you again for sharing this with us!!
This Ask is regarding this 🔞 butchlander multiverse oneshot threadfic on twitter (tumblr read version: parts 1, 2)
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CW: 🔞 scene(s), involves 7 Butchers sandwiching 1 Homelander, spoilers for The Name of the Game, Truce, and my ot
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EXCERPTS: "Fuck being a gentleman. If I waited for you any longer, we'd both be in our eighties. ...So believe me
Thank you very much for reading! I had The Name of the Game (AO3) thoughts in my brain that are unrelated to the main story so, whilst that 135ch monstrosity is gonna take its time, I might as well offer some unofficial post-main story or during-main story spin-offs—but as threadfic oneshots so they won’t clutter AO3 and/or taint the reading experience when more chapters are added. The brainworms were strong this time, so I might as well tap into that creative surge of inspiration instead of letting it gather dust and maybe never see the light of day.
Re: the threadfic ending. I’d always planned to have the vice versa switcheroo in this threadfic (where it turns from 7 Butchers + 1 TNotG HL into 7 Homelanders + 1 TNotG Billy 😉) but I had initially been uncertain whether to include it in this threadfic itself or allocate it to a separate sequel threadfic. I saw how long this oneshot threadfic was becoming and, well, after having to essentially retype 60% of what I could recall from memory after the last unsaved 58 tweets were lost to the void, I guess you can say the universe helped make my decision, hahaha.
Fun fact: I’d mentioned this in Part II’s comments, but making it the 5 HLs from 5 of my threadfics + the 1 HL from the Truce universe transmigrated into the TNotG universe is us having mercy on Billy. Because, imagine, you’re the scummy Male Lead who has quick transmigrated (world hopped) into 6 parallel universes, and had a relationship with each parallel dimension’s version of Homelander. And upon returning to your own world, you schemed to to get together with your own world’s destined lover Homelander—and it happened, although probably not how Billy had envisioned it with HL taking initiative into his own hands drugging him and making him participate in a seven-way 0rgy to seduce him. But bam! Murphy’s Law struck, and now Billy has to contend with seven jealous Homelanders. They’re the prideful trophy wives who are reunited with the husband they’d thought they’d lost, but he’s alive, and in their eyes they equate it as him “cheating” on them with a new hot floozy (TNotG’s HL). *laughs*
It’s a lot more dramatic if I made it a reunion, so instead I decided to be merciful on our Male Lead service top and instead make 6 of those Homelanders from my other fics, so the narrative is easier to handle not that TNotG HL wouldn’t also be down for a fun time with TNotG 6 other HLs.
Essentially I am willing to serve y’all the Homelander f*cking doppelgänger Homelander scene that we never got to see, Amazon you cowards. But ramp it up a notch, and toss our somewhat nicer to HL TNotG Billy Prime into the sweaty pile of clingy, needy, h0rny affection-craving Homelanders (but ofc Billy has to pay TNotG Homelander the most loving attention and endearments to smooth his ruffled feathers because hoo boooooy, imagine the cocktail of jealousy, insecurity, entitlement, and competitiveness in that one room alone y’all this is a grownass man who’d canonically gotten jealous and had a one-sided beef with a baby).
Like^^^ tell me this man wouldn’t enjoy a seven-way selfcest g@ngb@ng 0rgy session with himself, and with a very willing diabolically handsome V-ed up British Supe patiently servicing them in that pile. TELL ME IT WOULDN’T BE ONE OF HOMELANDER’S WET DREAMS.
Yuder and the other Deputy Commanders (+ Gakane) were having a meeting inside Commander’s office when Yuder suddenly triggered his heat.
Everyone: Yuder!
Yuder: Stay away…!
Ever and Gakane were Alphas so they stayed away as far as possible.
(I’m holding my breath but his scent is still so strong...!)
Kanna and Steiber were unaffected, so they tried to move Yuder to the ward designed for second-gender awakeners; however—
Before they could reach Yuder, who was crouching on the floor, gripping his chest, trying to suppress his feverish instincts, a shadow moved with extreme speed in the corners of their eyes.
When Kanna and others could finally realize what had happened, they saw the black-haired assistant nestling tightly into the fluttering hems of a white coat, embroidered with golden threads.
Their commander, Kishiar, had wrapped his arms around the trembling omega, embracing him firmly as if leaving no gaps. Yuder weakly fluttered his eyelashes when Kishiar whispered something in his ear, before shutting them close again.
The other members were stunned at the sight, as if they were witnessing a huge predator with its prey. In midst of their confusion, Kishiar had ordered Nathan to bring the members outside, and no one was allowed inside the office until further commands were given. Only then did they remembered, that, the commander was also an Alpha.
An Alpha, together in a room with an Omega in heat.
They all went pale at the obvious thought of what would happen next in that place, as they all inquired Nathan in a rushed tone.
Ever: Sir Zuckerman! Why did you leave Yuder alone with the Commander?! You know they have opposite second genders right?!
Nathan: …I know.
Ever: Then why?!
Ever wanted to barge into the office and separated Yuder from the beast; however, she was also an Alpha. She gritted her teeth, thinking of how useless she was when her friend was in danger, when she herself couldn’t even think straight when she took a whiff of that extremely sweet scent.
Nathan: …Please don’t worry. His Grace knows what to do.
Ever was about to protest, but Kanna and Gakane, who understood the truth in the adjutant’s words, sided with Nathan and she reluctantly withdrew. However, they didn’t mention the relationship between the commander and the assistant; thus, a strange rumor had spread out within the Cavalry from the curious members loitering around when Ever was yelling on top of her throat at Nathan in the hallway.
~ 5 days later ~
Cavalry members: Yuder!!
Yuder finally emerged from the tightly locked bedroom of the Cavalry Commander, Duke of Paletta, after 5 days. The members who saw him immediately flocked to him.
No one opened their mouth first, but Yuder could tell what they wanted to ask just by looking at their worried faces. After a moment, one courageous member raised his voice, followed by others.
#1: Yuder! Is it true that the Commander attacked you?!
Yuder: (…………….What?)
#2: Treating you like this when you were vulnerable…!
#3: Even if he’s the Commander, it’s unforgivable!!
Yuder: ……..
Yuder had mentally prepared for the backlashes, but he never expected anything like that. He was at a loss of word when the members kept blaming the commander. He was dumbfounded, didn’t understand why the story took a twisted turn, when a laugh was heard behind them.
Kishiar: Oh dear, I haven’t had the chance to explain, but everyone had already misunderstood me.
The members immediately shut their mouths when Kishiar walked in, they were shocked to see the alpha holding a big bouquet of red roses, confidently striding towards one person. Everyone gasped in astonishment when they saw the imperial family member, their commander, kneel down on one knee before the black-haired man, holding his gloved hand.
Kishiar: I had planned for a more extravagant and grander stage for this; unfortunately, however, since it had come to this…
Pressing his lips onto the slender fingers, Kishiar smiled sweetly as he stared into the deep obsidian orbs.
wangxian social media au where wwx, chaos incarnate, returns from his two-month suspension, becomes the talk of the town, and promptly decides to join the school publication team. oh and he’s exes-but-not-really-no-one-knows with lwj, who’s a student athlete.
i’d initially planned to post this on twt as a thread before i found out about the shitty update
every night, mu qing makes a lil bed nest of blankets, pillows & plushies before he sleeps
he’s so nervous when feng xin spends the night for the first time, thinking that the other will tease him for it when he sees it
instead, feng xin smiles brightly & plops himself right in excitedly, much to mu qings surprise. he then opens his arms wide to the other, as an invitation for cuddles
-
needless to say feng xin started making a similar kind at his own apartment, so they had a little plushie, blanket, pillow nest no matter which place they stayed at
nsfw | sakuatsu | autofellatio | voyerism / exhibitionism | sub / dom undertones
atsumu was always a little aware of kiyoomi's flexibility, however he wasn't fully aware to the extent of just /how/ flexible he truly was, or it's potential. until now, that is.
they had been dating for not too long when they started getting more intimate. it was maybe a couple months after kiyoomi first joined msby, and then another couple months into seeing each other when they finally couldn't keep their hands to themselves any longer.
it should have been a fairly awkward first time together, but a little liquid courage made it one of the best firsts either had ever had.
tipsy and bold, the sex was so good that both of them knew they were probably going to be hooked for life. whether or not they would admit that at this point in their relationship though is still up for debate.
so, even though they haven't quite gotten to the 'i love you' stage of their dating adventure, atsumu very much loves his tall, bendy boyfriend.
kiyoomi's wrists are soft and pliable, his legs thick and articulate, and his spine almost like a fluid reed at times. it isn't until a good bit into their sexual explorations would kiyoomi bring up /how/ he would sometimes pleasure himself when alone.
atsumu hadn't even realize the potential of his boyfriend's flexibility until one early
saturday conversation.
"yeah, i've sucked myself off before."
kiyoomi didn't look up from stirring milk into his tea, but he could feel atsumu's wide eyes burning into the side of his head.
it was so casual atsumu almost didn't register what kiyoomi actually said.
"you…
kiyoomi was now beginning to think he's going to regret his confession. he looks up from his mug and atsumu's eyes are intensely dark, his face and neck overcome by a deep flush.
every person who happens to have a dick has tried to, or at the very least thought about it before. this certainly includes atsumu himself, though the attempt left him with a bruised ribcage and ego.
and now here before him was the love of his life in his kitchen casually admitting to be living one of his ultimate fantasies.
atsumu's breathing picks up and he moves forward to place a hand on the table next to kiyoomi's tea. his veins bulge and muscles tense up as he leans down to look closer into his boyfriend's eyes. a small blush blooms high on kiyoomi's cheeks.
he cranes his neck a little to look up at atsumu. his mind was racing with filthy visons and kiyoomi could see it in his gaze. the breath against kiyoomi's lips is hot and heavy.
'show me. please."
kiyoomi feels like he might not regret this after all.
///
"sit there," kiyoomi gestures vaguely to an upholstered arm chair. it faces towards the side of the bed, placed with intention. kiyoomi looks over to his golden boyfriend and smirks,
"and for a little fun, no touching yourself until i come, hm?" what a fucking menace.
atsumu obediently sits; still fully clothed in nice black jeans and a loose plain shirt. nothing fancy is really needed anyway. kiyoomi however strips out of his clothes fairly efficiently; all until his boxer briefs are so slowly pulled away from his long legs and atsumu flushes. kiyoomi's cock is long and rosy pink, and it suddenly feels all too real. this is really happening.
atsumu is looking at his boyfriend with new eyes and he can finally see how this might be possible. with a cutting side glace from kiyoomi, atsumu is very quickly becoming /very/ hard in his pants. kiyoomi flushes and looks away. god his boyfriend is pretty.
kivoomi kneels onto the bed and moves forward until he's facing the wooden headboard. he lays back and pulls his legs up above his chest with his hands against the back of his thighs keeping him up.
awkwardly scooting forward a little using his strong arm and back muscles, kiyoomi settles on his upper back, shoulder blades cutting into the bed. the back of his hips rest against the cool, flat headboard and his pretty cock head is kissing the skin of his torso just above the navel.
his strong, muscular stomach looks delicate and soft as it folds into itself, layers of flesh and fat giving way to lower his hips closer to his face.
a push of his hips forward and his cock bobs above his face, a breath away from his lips and usually where most flexible people would have already reached their limit. but atsumu's beautiful, bendable boyfried takes a deep breath in... then out...
relaxing his muscles further and using his stupid, sexy flexable hands to put more pressure against the back of his thighs.
atsumu holds his breath as he watches, knuckles turning white against his thighs.
the dewy tip kisses his bottom lip, then pulls away just a hair. precum keeps him connected to himself by a thread, but it is broken when kiyoomi pulls his cock back down to his mouth again.
his soft, wet lips engulf the rosy tip, licking against himself with short pets of his tongue. atsumu can't hold back his raspy breath,
"fuck, omi."
his dick is so hard it starts to feel good pressed up into his pants.
it's only a little, no more than two or three inches into his mouth, but it's more than enough to get kiyoomi worked up. a small blush pinkens his cheeks and chest as he takes a deep breath of his own musky scent.
kiyoomi lets out a short whine, muffled by his own cock on his tongue. it's as if he is slowly drowning himself into submission.
taking away one hand from his thighs, kiyoomi slowly strokes the shaft of his cock, giving needed stimulation to what he can't pull into his mouth.
atsumu echos his groans. neither of them really know how he's managed to stay still in the chair as long as he has. kiyoomi drags his hand lower on himself to massage and softly pull his balls as he continues to suckle himself into his warm his skin tastes clean, he notes; if not a little bitter and salty.
atsumu feels like he hasn't taken a breath in hours, eyes unable to move from kiyoomi's body, his lips, the shiny head of his cock against his own tongue.
kiyoomi's hips jolt, pushing himself another inch into his mouth and his whine makes atsumu leak a little into his boxers.
"fuck omi yer so hot."
atsumu's rough voice makes lightning crackle up kiyoomi's spine and his own whimpers gently vibrate against his skin, only helping to further push himself towards orgasm. his cock feels hot in his own mouth. his mouth feels so, so soft around his own cock.
it's so different when there is someone else watching him. all of his senses feel heightened, almost painful. but it still feels all too good to stop
his hips jolt again and the muscles in his abs tighten. he can feel it coming already.
he releases himself from his mouth with a small whine, bringing his hand back around his cock to quickly stroke himself right up to the edge.
his thighs are twitching, hips bucking down into his hand as atsumu watches sweat run down his temples to his dark curls. between pants and moans, atsumu can hear sighs of his name from kiyoomi's messy mouth.
"fuck- atsu, atsu astuatsu-" his belly tightens, abdomen rippling, balls drawing tight. cum beads up from the slit and finally spills over to drip down into his mouth. a ragged moan is ripped from his lungs, and savory, lucid cream pools onto his pink tongue as the muscle hangs limply from his parted lips.
heavy, wet breaths and hips that just wont stop fucking into his hand make his aim falter a little. some of it catches on his chin, slowly dripping down his neck to his collarbones. a small bit goes too far and splatters thick threads high onto his flushed cheeks.
as his high wanes, kiyoomi's mouth is thoroughly covered in his own cum. he lays in his afterglow prettily, displayed like a violent painting of lust.
atsumu can't fucking take it. his hard cock cuts against the seam of his jeans too deliciously.
as kiyoomi spills onto himself, atsumu gives in and presses his rough, burning hand over his hard on. with a few firm strokes against himself, he's spilling an embarrassing amount of cum into his underwear.
he lets out an animalistic groan that kiyoomi responds to with his own soft whine. atsumu's body is flushed warm from his belly to his face. his release seeps through his pants. a deep warm smudge, fully visible and shameless in his lap if kiyoomi were to look up for a second.
but kiyoomi is a little too preoccupied making a mess of himself to notice.
as the last threads of cum drip from his slit kiyoomi brings his tip back into his mouth, sucking the last of his release down his wet throat with many consecutive, little swallows.
he doesn't move his lips away from his burning red cock for a while, continuing to lick and tease his tip well past whimpering and gasping overstimulation. atsumu can't believe he is lucky enough to witness his boyfriend milking himself of every drop like a dying man.
he could probably die happy right about now.
finally, kiyoomi lets go of himself with a sharp whiny inhale that devolves into breathy moans as he lets himself fill his lungs with the cool air of the bedroom. they both don't move from where they sit for a while, just trying to catch their breath enough to see straight again.
atsumu moves from his seat for the first time since he was ordered into it. he crawls forward onto the duvet and leans down, breath tickling the curls lying against kiyoomi's forehead.
looking back up at him, albeit still upside down and his lower back against the headboard, kiyoomi suddenly feels a rush of embarrassment that twists his gut.
atsumu either pretends not to notice or truly doesn't care, and leans in to press wet kisses to kiyoomi's mouth, tasting him from his own lips. his tongue is ravenous, licking deeply into kiyoomi until he just might pass out from a lack of sufficient air.
when atsumu releases him, kiyoomi is a little cross eyed as he tries to focus his vision on atsumu's face. they both just breathe in each other for a moment.
"fuck yer so pretty."
"god, i love you
the heavy, warm air between them is silent for a beat.
"huh?!?!?"
"if you missed it the first time you're out of luck, i'm not going to say it again.
"nuh uh, no way did ya just beat me to the first 'i love you'!"
"do you have to turn everything into a competition???"
It is within our genetic makeup as human beings, to want things we simply cannot have. To desire, to crave for something that is unattainable, with yearning pulling the arteries and veins of your heart to make it beat and scream: /I want him, I want him to be so irrevocably mine that no one will ever take him away from me./
Too bad Dazai was the one to let him go first.
Dazai does not regret his choices of leaving a place that did nothing but fester the darkness within his own sorry excuse for a heart, until his own veins were bathed with blood he no longer recognised. Although, he can’t help but feel his blood stained hands aching to feel a familiar body wrapped around his again.
A heart he does not have, yet those moments when he was around a familiar redhead, all fiery and blue painting his world, something that resembled a heartbeat roared in his chest till he thought he was going to die.
Most nights surrounded with bottles of sake in his quiet and lonely apartment, the detective dreams of hues of red and blue; the flurry of colors brightening his sky until he thought he might explode from it all. He wakes remembering a smile so bright, of hands so gentle and tender accompanied with harsh words with a soft tone.
In those 4 years spent in hiding, Dazai felt as though none of it was real. That he had simply dreamt of nights full of tangled bodies, with mornings spent in arms that made him feel more alive than any drug could ever.
Although he took what he could, even if it meant opening up the show curtains and layering on his true feelings with masks he longer recognized, with makeup and costumes he loathed to wear all to spend time with Chuuya, then Dazai would do anything. /Anything/ to feel the familiar warmth that he has been craving for 4 years swimming in his bloodstream, to feel high when he watches the deep hue of red take over the sky as the world crumbles around them.
/Anything./
“He’s my partner,” Dazai had simply told Atsushi one day before the Lovecraft fight. “He’s my annoying chib-sized dog that cannot think for himself. I can’t think of anything worse than seeing that tacky hat again.”
Atsushi had fidgeted on his seat, when he reluctantly asked “it’s been years since you last saw him.. Aren’t you worried he’ll betray you because you’re on opposite sides now?”
The detective softly chuckled, “oh, don't you know, Atsushi-kun? A dog always answers to their master, no matter how many years they’ve been apart for.”
Dazai supposes he was talking about himself in this instance. He sat with his imaginary tail wagging behind him, swaying swiftly with excitement awaiting to see the only man that could ever beacon his call.
It felt like flying, when they had finally stood side by side once again; it felt like his defective heart had finally pumped again after years when he saw the beautiful destruction of his partner and corruption.
It was a drug he couldn’t get enough of, and it was in the form of Nakahara Chuuya.
Seeing Chuuya in that port mafia bar where they used to go as teenagers and watching his (ex) partner laugh and smile softly among others, made the aching in his heart unbearable. His veins itched to feel the familiar high, to be so wrapped around in the redhead’s world that he saw him and him only.
The pinching of his heart directed him to follow the executive into the alleyway; the hole in his chest that has been growing for 4 years pushed him to hold onto the redhead; the roaring of his heart convinced him to press his lips to the familiar slope of his shoulder.
“I missed you,” he whispers against his jaw.
You make me feel so alive, he wants to scream from the top of his lungs, I had to leave, I’m so sorry, but please come back to me, Chuuya.
How did he ever let this feeling go? The feeling of someone so powerful that could tear him into shreds in seconds, that deserved someone so much better than him, that loved him like it was as easy as breathing air?
Bandaged hands dig into the amble waist, he imagines his nails breaking through the flesh until he’s bathing in his lover's blood until no one could tell them apart. He imagines peeling back the flesh, delicately opening his ribcage and making a home near his heart.
“Osamu,” Chuuya pleads, a leather glove holding whatever is left of his heart in his hand.
Tears prick in his eyes, his heart roaring in his chest hearing a name that he hasn’t heard in years coming from the man he is so irrevocably obsessed with. Say it again, he begs in his mind, say it again and tell me that I can be yours again. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–
He watches the way azure eyes stare at him, with so much agony and sorrow that all Dazai wants to do is jump through his iris and swim within his mind, if only it meant he could always be with him. To die by those blue eyes would be an honor.
Seeing that weak smile accompanied with “congratulations on leaving. You did what you had to, trust me, out of everyone I fucking get that,” made the ghost of a heart in Dazai’s chest ache with agony, the hollowness in his chest spread into his limbs until they hung on by a single tendon ready to be cut off with gloved hands.
He wishes he had taken those gloved hands that night and whisked him away into the light. Though it would’ve been difficult, and the brightness of it all would’ve burned and scarred their very skin, they would’ve done it /together./ They would have figured out how to be gentle, tender and kind in a world that had only ever rejected them as children, learned how to bathe in the light rather than keen away in fear.
It would’ve been beautiful. It would’ve been magical.
The night that Dazai Osamu fled the mafia, he had only taken the clothes off of his own back and a leather choker.
If Dazai Osamu, one half of soukoku, and dubbed as the Demon Prodigy, fell asleep in those years in hiding clutching a familiar leather choker with tear stains on his pillow and his black heart spilling across the sheets; that was only for him and his four walls to know.
It was bound to happen, Dazai muses over as he watches the flurry of red and black disappear out of the alleyway.
/Everything worth wanting, is lost the moment I obtain it./
It had happened when he so foolishly believed he had found his own little safe corner in the mafia with Odasaku and Ango.He had so foolishly prayed that whatever gods that observed him from above would at least give him the decency to keep Chuuya in his life.
/You will,/ his heart roared, /you will get him back./ Dazai vows that he will do whatever it takes to get his partner, his one and only, back into his life.
And in the end, his heart will finally beat on its own, beating in all its glory and it will be beautiful.
Stevie Harrington has always known what it's like for people to want her, to watch her when she walks down the halls of Hawkins High. She's the head cheerleader, the Queen, as much as she doesn't actually *care* about that title, and the school is backwards enough that it does matter to a lot of the other students.
Half of the time she likes it, the respect she gets, the guys who compliment her, stuttering, eyes dropping to the way her tops barely restrain her breasts (those are the boys she allows to take her on dates, take her home and fuck her). The rest of the time it's looks, and wolf whistles, and vulgar comments about her tits that make her want to draw back into herself.
The girls are more discrete, their eyes linger but don't stay, and they blush and stutter when Stevie talks to them. With them it's not public dates, it's fumbling in the dark in locked rooms at parties or closets at school and Stevie hates it. She wants to take these pretty girls out on dates and treat them, but they’re too shy or whatever.
When Billie Hargrove arrives at Hawkins High in September 1984 she disrupts the status quo, roaring in in her blue Camaro, all golden curls and California tan. She joins the cheer squad and immediately dominates the team. Stevie is jealous, and angry with the taunts and the way Billie presses up against her when they practice, provocative and teasing for reasons Stevie can’t understand.
Billie has some kind of angry hard-on for annoying her it seems, and Stevie just wants to get through the last year of high school as easily as she can. It also frustrates her that she finds the other girl so attractive, that as much as she pisses Stevie off she still wants her attention, wants Billie to take her out, would happily follow her into any room at a party.
Billie watches from the entrance to the pool, feeling a little creepy, as Stevie clambers out of the water, tantalising drops dripping down her decolletage to disappear beneath the scoop neck of her one-piece between the breasts the fabric can hardly contain. Billie swallows hard, rubbing her thighs together for a little friction as Stevie turns and heads for the showers, offering her a fantastic view from behind.
She waits a few minutes, debating herself on whether she should follow Stevie into the showers or not, but her animal hindbrain, that part of herself she can never quite shut up, takes over, and her feet carry her into the locker rooms before she can consider it any more.
Stevie is out of the shower by the time Billie enters the locker room, nearly too-small towel wrapped around her still damp body, hair dripping wet onto her shoulders.
Billie swallows, arousal thick in her throat, “Harrington,” she greets once she’s close, nearly pressing Stevie back into the lockers when she spins to face her, eyes wide.
“Hargrove,” Stevie’s voice is steel-boned and her brow furrows as she looks down at Billie. Her hazel eyes are wide and she’s biting her lip and Billie wants to get her teeth in that pillowy flesh herself.
----------
Stevie’s not really sure how they got here. Her bare back is pressed against the cold lockers behind her, and she’s clutching her towel close beneath her exposed breasts. Her nipples are hard and so sensitive, puffy and red from Billie’s mouth and fingers, and she’s got shivers running up and down her body in the chill of the room.
She’s never felt so hot though.
Billie drops to her knees in front of Stevie, encouraging her to widen her stance with a muttered “sweetheart” that makes Stevie blush with how she clenches and more wetness gushes from her already soaked pussy at the degrading tone.
She buries her face between Stevie’s legs, hands wrapped tight around her thighs, holding her apart as she dives straight in. Billie presses a line of kisses up her inner thigh, working her way towards Stevie’s dripping cunt, throbbing with need when Billy dives in headfirst, licking a thick stripe from her hole to circle her tongue over Stevie’s clit.
“Hargrove!” Stevie pants, hips jolting forward into the gentle circles Billie’s laving over the pulsing bundle of nerves.
Billie pulls back for a second, blue eyes dark with lust, a smirk on her plush lips, “call me Billie, pretty girl.”
“Shut up and get back to it,” she moans, clenching her hand in Billy’s shaggy blonde hair and pulling her back in.
Billie goes easy and eager, wasting no more time on teasing or light touches, sucking her clit into her mouth with a groan that Stevie echoes, not even considering the possibility of anybody hearing them.
“God, that’s it, blondie,” Stevie whines, thighs shaking with each hard suck, biting her lip again to try and hold back the loud noises she’s making.
She can feel Billie smirk against her as she moves both her hands, sliding two fingers straight into where Stevie is wet and aching. They go so easily Stevie’s so turned on and she moans Billie’s name loud and unabashed into the cool air of the locker room, pushing her pussy hard against Billie’s talented tongue.
Billie’s other hand disappears between her own thighs and Stevie can hear how wet she is when she slides her fingers into herself, fucking them in at the same rhythm as she’s fucking Stevie. Stevie whimpers, letting go of Billie’s hair so she can pinch and pull at her nipples, sending sparks of pleasure rushing through her body.
“You close, babygirl?” Billie murmurs into her pussy, the vibrations making Stevie clench around her fingers with a loud moan.
“So close! Fuck! Please, Billie !”
Billie speeds up the pace with her fingers, curling them on each stroke to drag along that spot inside that no one else has ever managed to find, drawing hard circles on Stevie’s twitching clit with her tongue.
Stevie nearly screams as she comes in pulsing waves around Billie’s fingers, crying out her pleasure to the ceiling. Her cheeks flush red as she realises she’s squirted, gushing over Billie’s tongue. Billie doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact she moans eagerly, lapping everything up that Stevie will give her as she shakes through her own orgasm, knees spread wide on the hard floor so she can get the perfect angle to fuck herself.
Stevie stares bleary-eyed at the ceiling, panting and delirious still from the pleasure, chest heaving as she comes down. Well, they were definitely doing this again, whatever this was.
This was posted and written for @wrecked-fuse on twt originally
