#band fics

[oktobersilver]

♡Making Love to The Ultimate Mind.♡

summary: John ends up getting a bit handsy underneath the dinner table.

contains: smut, teasing, rough sex, ect this is also the arena era!!!

You and John had been dating for several months now, and by this point you knew all of his bandmates pretty well, they had all just got done with their most recent concert, 'as the lights go down' which would be put out as their upcoming live album 'Arena'. You and everyone were all beyond proud of how the show turned out, especially proud of your boyfriend, John.

You met with the band backstage before the tour bus arrived, John walked up beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist before pulling you into a sweet, loving kiss.

"What d'you think of the show? I think it went rather well, probably one of our best ones." John said, looking at you with a sweet smile.

Y/N smiled brightly at the tall man, "I loved it! As always though, I'm proud of you, I'm proud of everyone, I know how hard you all worked on everything and it most definitely paid off." Y/N expressed, tiptoeing to kiss his cheek as the rest of the band flooded backstage.

Simon appeared next to John and gave him a pat on the back, "Hey John, hey Y/N! Concert was pretty fun wasn't it?" He spoke energetically, smiling at the pair.

The two nodded as the rest of the band sat around backstage, including Roger sitting outside for a bit.

Roger walked back in, smiling at everyone as he cleared his throat. "I ordered takeaway for all of us, I got some extra too." He said as he ran his hand down the back of his jet-black hair.

Everyone nodded in agreement, to be fair it was around usual dinnertime, so it was best if everyone got something, especially considering the long show that they had just got done with.

Fast forward, they all head back to the studio with the dinner for the night, you noticed a few glances from your boyfriend, John, but you didn't take it too seriously.

You all sat down at the dinner table, everyone got their food and began eating, talking, ect.

You felt a hand slowly go up your thigh, you glared over at your boyfriend, John, who was sitting right beside you, seeing the faint smile that crawled across his lips.

He knew exactly what he was doing, and you knew he did, his hand slowly started to make its way to your inner thigh, teasing you ever so slightly.

You tensed, shuddering as you glanced at him, you knew he was enjoying every second of this. To be fair, you were getting off on it too.

Simon turned his head to you, "You okay over there, Y/N? Got the chills?" He asked with a near mouthful of his dish.

You cleared your throat and nodded, "I'm fine! I just get cold chills sometimes." Y/N quickly answered with, Simon shrugged it off and continued talking to Roger, while Nick and Andy talked about their next album.

John's hand made its way under Y/N's waistband, creeping to your sensitive spot, his slim fingers stroked your clit at an agonizingly slow pace, making you almost buck your hips into his touch.

You bit your tongue, feeling your stomach curl as the tension between you and John practically boiled at this point. You could see him starting to get hard, so you decided to slip your hand under the table, palming his developing boner.

Y/N saw the look in his eyes, fully lust blown by this point, his cock hardened under your hand, Y/N began also teasing him at a painfully slow pace.

John's fingers slipped inside of you, curling inside of your pussy, you choked back every bit of noise that was to come from your mouth, spreading your legs as you couldn't help but ever so slightly lean into his touch.

Y/N cleared her throat as John pulled his hand away. "I'll be right back, I have to wash my face for the night." Y/N announced, glancing at John, signaling him to follow along.

The two walked down the hallway, Y/N walked into the bathroom that was there, feeling a tug on her arm.

You looked at John, suddenly you were slammed against a wall, his leg was pressed against your pussy as his tongue invaded your mouth. You moaned into his mouth, biting at his lip as you quickly hustled to get your clothes off.

John helped you as he stripped of his clothes, holding you up as his hands enveloped your hips as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Baby, please, god I need you in me so bad" Y/N cried out, John's cock slid against your entrance, teasing you in the most cruel way.

"Do you really? God, I'll fuck you properly, I'll fuck you until the only thing that you remember is my name." John uttered before leaving marks all scattered across your neck.

You pleaded for him, until his cock slammed into you, causing you both to moan as his dick struck inside of your pussy, throwing his head back as his bleached fringe fell infront of his lust-blown eyes.

You both panted into eachothers mouths, feeling his cock hit every single one of your sweet spots, sending you closer and closer to the edge.

His lips took over yours, your legs clenched around his body as you dug your nails into your boyfriend's shoulders. His throat rung out a low groan as his cock filled every inch of your pussy.

You bit your lip, slinging your head back in pure pleasure as you cried out, "Oh, fuck! Harder, baby, please!" Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, feeling the boiling pit of arousal curl inside of you.

John's pace began to get harder, cursing profanities under his labored breath as he hung his head down by your neck, his thrusts getting sloppier as he neared the edge.

You could feel the heat rush all throughout both of your bodies, both of you were slicked in a thin layer of sweat, feeling every inch of him fuck you raw. His hard cock hitting your G-spot, effortlessly with every move.

You could barely hold your eyes open, you were practically crying for him, god, you've needed him all day, and he most definitely needed you.

"Y/N, I'm close, fuck I'm close." John pleaded, you could feel his precum start to release inside of you.

Profanities spilled out from under a mix of your breathy moans, becoming an absolute mess, all because of John.

"I'm close baby, I know, I know, please!" Y/N begged, groaning his name between your teeth, that was all it took to push John over the edge.

His cum shot inside of you, spilling all throughout of your pussy as his lips clung to yours as you both felt the aftershocks of your shared orgasm, he slowly set you down, kissing you passionately in the same exact spot you had just gotten fucked in.

You kissed his cheek, nudging your nose against his. "Should we clean up sweetheart?" Y/N said with a slight giggle.

"Probably, the others are probably wondering why it takes so long to wash your face too." John replied, followed by a shared chuckle.

⊰ END ⊰

#80s #andy taylor #band smut #duran duran #duran duran smut #duran duran x reader #john taylor #john taylor smut #john taylor x reader #nick rhodes #simon le bon #roger taylor #duranduran #duran duran fic #oktobersilver #y/n smut #smut fanfiction #fanfic #band fic #band fics #band smut x reader #john taylor x reader smut #john taylor smut x reader #duran duran fics

[frostbitten-written]

Y'ALL I NEED TO SCREAM ABOUT SOMETHING HIGH SCHOOL ME HAD UNFINISHED BUSINESS WITH: THE DOVE KEEPER BY EVELYN DESHANE/EMILY JAMES RAY IS SUDDENLY AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE BOTH ON BARNES AND NOBLE AND AMAZON????? HUH????

I REMEMBER MOURNING THE LOSS OF THAT BOOK ONLINE BACK IN 2016 AND I'VE BEEN SCOURING THE INTERNET FOR A COPY SINCE AND FINALLY, I SEE IT'S UP FOR SALE AGAIN??????

I'M SO HAPPY!!!!!

#the dove keeper #frerard #my chemical romance #evelyn deshane #emily james ray #band fics #the dove keeper by evelyn deshane #just to clarify i dont ship the real people i was just in love with the story she created

[nichtaufgewacht]

Irgendwer mich liebt, chapter 22

Read it here on ao3. 🖤

#richard kruspe #richard kruspe x oc #my fics #mareavera #irgendwer mich liebt #hope you guys enjoy #comments and all are welcome 🖤 #band fics #rammstein fanfic #rammstein fanfiction #festival era

[veilofmegiddo]

need to get back on my fic grind sooo bad pm me if u have ideas PLEAAASEEE ive hit such bad concept block lately

#steel panther #rock n roll #gnr #guns n roses #band fics #rock band #fic #band fic #writers block #concepts

[sixxgurl26]

~ Sleazy Sugar ~ 1 - The Whiskey A Go-Go

Masterlist

Pairing: Nikki Sixx x Layla Krane (OC)

Warnings: 18+, language, sexual themes 

Word Count: 1.7K

“You're coming to the Whiskey tonight right?”

Kayla’s voice rang in my ears as we walked to our next class together. “I don’t know, there’s going to be a lot of people and its just like not my scene really ya know?” I didn’t have to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes at me. “Maybe that’s why you should go! Get a different view that you don't usually get, come on its going to be so much fun.”

I loved Kayla, she was my best friend since Freshman year, and ever since then, we've been practically bonded at the hips. We even chose the same college and courses together, I’m sure people would think we were together by just how much time we spend together, but she was a true ride or die, and I just didn’t have that many friends other than her. But being her best friend, I knew when she had ulterior motives, like she did right now.

“Or maybe, and get this, you want me to go so badly with you so you’re not alone and you can try and pick up on a wannabe rockstar and he can rail you in a tiny club bathroom for the thrill of it, while I talk to his friend to keep company?” She stopped dead and turned to me, her mouth falling open aghast and offended, but I stood firm, arms crossed. “That is NOT it!” I raised my eyebrow at her, and a few moments passed as our stare down continued till she threw her hands to her side and sighed heavily, “FINE, thats why! Is that so bad! Can you please come with me Lay! I just want to have some fun tonight pleaseeeee!” She was practically begging on her hands and knees so I rolled my eyes and swatted at her hands she had held out to me in the form of a prayer.

“Okay I’ll go! I’ll go and play along with your plan. But I’m not going looking like this, I need to change up into something that fits that scene more.” We reached our class and sat down, pulling out our books as we exchanged our last words before the class started. “We’ll go to a thrift store after class and pick some things up, don’t worry. Oh my god, I’m so excited!” She giggled loudly and I shushed her with a chuckle as we started class. This was going to be interesting.

Thankfully this was our last class of the day, and as soon as the teacher had given his assignment for the week, Kayla was dragging me out of there and speeding to the nearest thrift store. We still had hours before the Whiskey’s doors even opened, but knowing her, she wanted enough time to get ready.

“Hmm, I don’t know, what do you think of this?” I held up a leather black bra, that exposed my midriff. I already head a pair of leather pants I had found and I had some black heels at home, so I figured this would round out the outfit nice. “Lay, it’s going to look a-mazing on you! You should dress like this more often and less like a priss.” I set my bra down in my basket smiling until the word registered. “Thank-HEY!” She started laughing and gestured to me up and down. “Oh come on Lay, you know I don’t mean to offend you, it’s just, you dress so proper with your skirt past the knees, puffy button up, and hair berets, you need some leather in your life.” I looked down at myself and smiled. “I think I look smart.” She chuckled. “Looking smart isn’t going to get you laid.” I smirked, maybe she had a point. I shook my head as we walked to the register, the sooner we were out of here, the sooner I could get dressed and get this night over with.

We had agreed to get ready at her place, as I still lived with my parents and didn’t want them knowing where I was going and especially not seeing how I was going to be dressed. It’s not that my parents had control over me, I was a twenty one year old woman, but I’d rather just escape the questions I knew were going to follow and the judgmental remarks.

I styled my hair as closely as I could to Farrah Fawcett in her iconic swimsuit poster. My hair was a much darker brown, and thick so it always weighed down, so it didn’t come out exact, but it was still voluminous and it was good enough for me. I paired it with some simple black eyeliner and red eyeshadow and a lip to pop for color. I slipped into my heels and I was ready to go and play this altar ego I had designed. Kayla had her hair slicked down straight and her tiny little black dress on with her white boots. “Let me guess, easy access?” I asked pulling at the end of her dress. She smiled wickedly, “You know it.”

The line into the Whiskey was ridiculous, and seeing as it was February, it was freezing already. I knew bringing a jacket would be pointless once we got inside, but damn, I wasn’t ready to freeze my nipples off standing out here. Kayla could see my concerned look as we got nearer and I eyed the back of the line. “Don’t think we are waiting back there, I’m going to get us in now.” I scoffed. “Okay I’d love to see you do that.” I didn’t believer her for a moment, but when the bouncer saw her and motioned us in, I was aghast. “Okay, what the fuck?” She smiled to me, “My dad manages the books for the Whiskey, so that comes with perks.” I shook my head, “And I’m finding out about this now?” She shushed me on as I didn't realize we had stopped in the entrance way. “You’re a priss, remember?”

Now, I may look the part of the vibe of this place, but I definitely did not feel the part, and Kayla knew it. “Let’s get a drink and sit by the bar for now, I think we got here right before the next band is supposed to come on. I hear they are really good and have a hot drummer.” There she goes, thinking about which man she is about to prey on, god protect them.

We sat and sipped our beers while we waited, and then they came on. Motley Crue they were called Kayla told me. The music they played is like something I had never heard before. It was loud, rough, raunchy, and invigorating. I found myself even enjoying it. We made our way onto the floor and danced together to their songs and I’ll admit it, I was having fun, something I wouldn't like to admit, but I couldn’t hide the feeling.

As soon as they were done playing, Kayla had already made her moves to the drummer and had dragged him away, leaving me defenseless. I wasn’t scared, I was awkward, so I made my way back to the bar for another beer and hoped to god the drummers game wasn’t long so we could leave soon.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” I turned to see a tall figure with black, poofy hair that damn near took over his face, black clad leather pants and heels that were taller than mine by a long mile. “Well aren’t you aware?” He laughed and asked the bartender for a beer before turning back to me. “Did you enjoy the show then?” I had now just realized this was the bassist I was talking to and took a sip of my own. “You know, I did. I am not used to this sort of music but I actually really liked it. Whats your name?” I was going to be brave tonight, I wasn’t sure if it was the beer or me, but I didn't care at this point. “It’s Nikki Sixx, yours?” I almost choked on my beer, chuckling. “I’m sorry, that’s a good one.” He smirked and leaned down a little closer to me. “That’s my real name sugar.” I smiled as I composed myself and looked into his eyes, green, huh. “If you say so, Nikki Sixx. I’m Layla Krane.” I smugged back at him, leaning on my hand at his level.

“Well, Layla, get used to my name, you’ll be screaming it later.”

My smug look turned to surprised blush and I couldn't get my words out right, “Excuse me you’ll be screaming my name, I mean, wait, I’ll be, wait-“ His laugh echoed the place as he placed a hand on my shoulder. “You're fun to fuck with, you’re hot when you’re flustered. Anyways I gotta go, I have mayhem to construct, see you later sugar?” Before I could even process a response, as mysteriously as he appeared, he vanished.

I took my last swig at my beer and was pleasantly surprised to find Kayla marching to me, a smile plastered so wide on her face I knew she had succeeded. “You good there, horn dog?” She chuckled and nodded. “His dick was huuuuge! And he invited us over tonight for a party, they live right up the street!” I grabbed my purse and sighed. “Kayla, haven’t you had your fill tonight, can’t we go home now?” She crossed her arms at me this time and stood her place. “I saw the way you blushed at that bassist, and he’s going to be there, just admit you had fun and maybe you’re interesting to see what else you can get into? Or should I say, who get into you?”

The mental image of Nikki Sixx pounding me into a hot, moaning mess did something to me I’ve never felt, but I couldn't admit that to her. But I knew she wasn’t going to relent, so I sighed and pulled her arm to walk with me out of there to go onto our next mission.

This night was about to be longer than I could of ever imagined.

Next Part 

#nikkisixx #nikki sixx #motley crue #motleycrue #nikkisixx fanfic #nikki sixx fanfic #nikki sixx fic #band fics #band fic #tommy lee #nikki sixx fanfiction #motley crue fanfiction #motley crue fanfic #80s band fics

[ladyveronikawrites]

#30 days of bad omens #one shots #bad omens #aestehtic #book aesthetic #bad omens fanfic #band fics #bad omens fic #noah sebastian #nick folio #Nicholas Ruffilo #jolly Karlsson #Noah sebastian smut #Nicholas Ruffilo smut #nick folio smut #jolly karlsson smut #fanfiction

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve Harrington was wearing a Hellfire t-shirt.

It was far too tight on him, the name of the club stretched wide over his chest. The sleeves dug into his biceps, making them pop even more than they usually did, and that was before he crossed his arms. 

Worse?

It was short.

Which meant the damn shirt was constantly riding up to give everyone a nice show of the smattering of hair that trailed down past the band of Harrington's jeans. 

The same hair that Eddie was determinedly not looking at. 

“Henderson, a moment?” He crooked a finger, a smile on his face that was more feral than welcoming. 

Rather than cower or even acknowledge that Eddie was two seconds away from murder, Dustin just gave him a gummy grin, all too pleased with himself and his scheme. 

“Sure Eddie. Steve, don't just stand there, go help set the booth up!” Dustin gestured to Hellfire’s sad little table, crammed all the way in the back of the gym. 

Jeff and Gareth both reacted to the suggestion like a rabid squirrel had been set upon them, nervously inching towards the other side of the booth as Harrington sighed and--shockingly--did as he was told.

‘What,’ Eddie thought angrily, ‘in the everloving fuck.’

“Do you guys mind if I set this down on the table?” Eddie heard Harrington ask as he stormed away, Dustin on his heel. 

They wandered just around the corner, out of sight and hopefully, out of the fallen king’s hearing range.

Eddie wasn't sure if Harrington would try and white knight the very much deserved dressing down he was about to give. 

Didn’t want to chance it, considering the downright weird relationship he had with Hellfire's freshmen.

(While he’d heard many a tale at his table regarding King Steve since the newest recruits had joined Hellfire, most of them dissolved into arguments without ever really going anywhere.

 Best anyone could figure out was that Dustin and Lucas had a bad case of hero worship, while Mike owned a begrudging amount of respect that hailed from a series of misadventures. 

The very same misadventures that, despite all protests to the contrary, was clearly some sort of babysitting gig for Harrington.) 

Either way, plenty of the King’s court would have loved to take this opportunity to fuck with Hellfire.

Given that Henderson was absolutely too old to require a babysitter at fourteen, Eddie would bet his lunch money that was what Steve was here to do.

Something the club couldn’t afford since they were forever and always two seconds away from being stripped of club status and banned from school grounds. 

“I would love to know what went through that all A’s brain of yours when I said,” Eddie whirled on Dustin when they were firmly in the clear, voice low and furious.  “no Henderson, do not invite King Steve to help, he is an invading force and would ruin our peaceful kingdom!?”

He clasped his hands behind his back before leaning into Dustin’s face. “Because clearly whatever you heard wasn’t that.” 

To Eddie’s continued frustration and confusion, Dustin did not treat this like the threat it was. 

None of the freshmen had ever truly treated Eddie like a threat--had somehow skipped that part of the usual onboarding ritual entirely.

Eddie, town freak and drug dealer, who had cultivated his looks and craziness to such a degree that most everyone steered clear, wasn’t used to it. 

Everyone had been afraid of him at some point in this shitty school. Jeff, Gareth, hell even half the staff--and that the dorky trio of fourteen year old's clearly thought this all was play-acting made his eye twitch.

Even if it was--maybe, sometimes--welcome. 

“I know what you said, but I’m telling you I’m right.” Dustin argued immediately, and oh God, he was using that tone again. 

A hand went up into the space between them and Eddie groaned aloud, knowing what was coming.

“First,” Dustin ticked a finger up, “Hellfire really needs the money. Even thirty dollars would get us new figures, but more than that, if we don’t fundraise, we can’t go to Gen Con!” 

Dustin's eyes bored into Eddie’s, full of fire and conviction

“Yes,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “but--”

“Second!” Dustin cut him off, and God the little shit even threw him a look while he did it, like Eddie was the one being ridiculous here!

“We had to fight just to get our table! Principal Higgins was in algebra today practically begging the mathletes to show up, but then tried to tell us we couldn't be here? That’s messed up!” 

As if denying them a spot to fundraise was the worst thing that asshole had ever done.

Eddie sighed, breath blasting out of his mouth like a dragon’s. 

“Because people think we’re freaks and satanists, Henderson. You don’t typically invite freaks and satanists to the school’s annual Holiday Bazaar. Especially not when all the local moms are paying to hawk their bullshit crafts and tupperware!” 

It was more than that of course. The Hawkins High Holiday Bazaar was a tradition spanning several years now. Starting in the gym and spilling clear into the parking lot, everyone from local artists to even some local shops came to host a small table for the day, thus growing the event from a small school fundraiser to a Hawkins' “must-do.” 

Half the fucking town was here to sell, and the other half was here to shop, which meant Principle Higgins had wanted Hellfire banned from the fucking premise. 

Eddie had been forced to pull out one of his trump cards he’d been saving--blackmail on Higgins that related to the man’s not--so--legal addiction to Percocet that he relied on Reefer Rick for. 

(And bless Rick, that hadn’t been the only tidbit he’d shared with Eddie about Higgins. That information, however, Eddie needed just so the asshat wouldn’t give him the boot from school entirely.) 

The only reason Eddie had pulled it out to secure their rightful spot, was because of Gen Con. 

It was Hellfire's White Whale, their grand adventure, and this was going to be his year to take his friends on one last epic quest to make memories of a lifetime surrounded by people who understood them.

Come hell or high water, Eddie was going to Gen Con--but being able to fundraise by selling wares and baked goods at the stupid Holiday Bazaar would go a long way to help.

Even if he had to listen to the band repeatedly play ear-bleeding renditions of Christmas songs.

“All the clubs get to have a table, and we’re a club!” Dustin continued, like it was that simple. “But you know, I get it. We look scary.” 

He gestured down to his own Hellfire shirt, before gesturing towards Eddie’s entire outfit.

Like Eddie didn't know what he looked like, let alone that he'd made this outfit specifically to scare people away from him.

(And maybe add some rockstar flair to this dinky little hick town.)

“You know who doesn’t look scary?”

Dustin held out his hands and swiveled his body like he was presenting a prize instead of gesturing in the vague direction of; 

“Steve!”

Eddie’s left eye twitched.

‘You can't kill him, you need his character for the campaign.’ He told himself firmly, even if he envisioned strangling Dustin like a chicken.

Cartoon squawking and all. 

“The King isn’t going to help us fundraise, Dustin.” Eddie said, in an effort to break down why Harrington couldn't be here. “He's just going to cause us problems that we can’t afford to have.” 

So many problems, half of which Eddie couldn't think of because if he did, he'd start spiraling.

“Really? Because as you keep saying, Steve used to be the King. People love him, Eddie! Mom’s love him.”

Eddie had pulled himself black up to his proper height a while ago, and now rocked back on his heels while he ran a hand down his face.

There was no getting through to Henderson when he was like this. 

Not unless Eddie really lost it, and it was practically club lore that he only lost it when someone missed an important game. 

One cannot keep a herd of sheep if their flock is terrified of them, after all. 

(“Perhaps you’re just a giant fucking softie.” Tiff, one of Hellfire’s graduating members, told him once. “Honestly dude, I bet you throw up stuffing.”

“Shut up Tiffany, your choker is on backwards again.” He'd spat back, completely offended and not at all trying to distract from how true that was.) 

“We can’t be satanic if Steve’s the one selling cookies!” Dustin finished doggedly. 

“We’re not even selling cookies--that’s not the point!”” Eddie shook his head, hair flying. He was not going to be sidetracked, he wasn’t!

 “Harrington is going to end up siding with all the moms about how we’re all wasting time with D&D, if he even spends the whole time at the table. Is that what you want?” 

He stuck out a ringed finger, poking at Dustin’s chest.

“Every single person who comes by our table has to be convinced D&D is a writing and math based game. Good for the mind and souls of growing, impressionable children. A game that got a bad rep because of  a few silly images.” 

A pitch he and Tiff had come up with during the third or fourth time they had to convince an adult that no, just because their shirts had a dragon on it, didn’t mean they were summoning demons in the drama room. 

“Harrington can’t do that because Harrington doesn’t even know how to play!” 

This Eddie punctuated by throwing his hands in the air. 

Given the startled look of the mother-daughter duo passing him by, clearly was louder than he’d intended--but screw it!

He was right!

Hellfire was in a precarious position to both fundraise and do a little damage control among the slightly smarter members of this shithole small town, and Harrington rolling his eyes and gossiping about how stupid it was would hinder that.

“Okay, first of all, Steve’s played D&D with me and he didn’t even kill his character.” Dustin said it like he was unveiling a smoking gun and not lying through his ass--which Eddie would absolutely be calling him on the second he was done talking. 

Because King Steve? Play D&D?

'Ha!'

“And he’s not gonna say shit because we--me, and Lucas and even Mike!--asked him to help, and he helps when its serious. I know you have some weird grudge with him, but I’m telling you Eddie he’s our golden ticket to Gen Con!” 

“You’re killing me. You are standing here, acting as a friend, when you are bringing a-- a dark force into the midst our of mission--” Eddie hissed, because he was losing the fucking fight and he knew it.

Dustin Henderson was not a man easily swayed. 

Had never been, even when the odds were stacked against him (and Grant and Gareth were howling in his ear.) 

The set of his shoulders and the glint of the little shithead’s eye meant Eddie wouldn’t be able to use him to oust Harrington--if he even could get him out without the dick causing a massive scene anyway. 

As always when outgunned, Eddie flipped to dramatics.

“Betrayed! By my own chosen heir no less!” He moaned, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes as Dustin scoffed.

"Don’t be so dramatic! Steve will help, I promise! Just don’t be a dick to him.” 

 Conversation apparently over, Dustin turned around to head back to the table

Snidely, he added over his shoulder: “Plus we’ve all caught on to the heir thing Eddie. You tell everyone that so they do what you want.” 

The dick.

“You’re too fucking smart for your own good. I’m gonna start feeding you paint chips to bring that IQ down.” Eddie muttered angrily as Dustin went back to their little table.

He gave himself a moment to get his shit together and stomp a foot like a child when Dustin was around the corner and thus couldn’t witness it, before following his wayward sheep back.

Could only pray to any deity listening that Henderson’s meddling didn’t blow up in Hellfire’s face.

#Door Prize #Alt S4 #pre steddie #when is it not lmao #Holiday fic #well this is more of a warm up but it has another part #Ive just given up the WIPS are running my life #this is brought to you by a local high schools massive holiday bazaar I went too that had cute band kids running around #could not play music though bless them #I did FINALLY get re employed so things are slowing down but Im hoping to post one more chapter of SOMETHING before the end of dec #and probably the other half of this warm up shes short #steven harrington #eddie munson #baking #special appearance by Adopt a Jocks Tiff #Robin pops up in this in the other half #Dustin Henderson #and his scheming #Steve can bake #0o0 fanfics #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #steddie

[strange-birb]

Jason and dick are helping Tim with his screaming :)

#batfamily #batfam #angst #fluff #jason todd #the batfamily #batbros #batfam crack #secret band au #red hood #red hood fluff #tim drake fluff #dc fanart #dick grayson imagine #jason todd secret band au #Gothams finest rejects #crack fic #Roy and cass in the back #sorry for doing Steph dirty in this one :/

[gutsby]

Abstaining Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: The only thing worse than an anti-sex retreat is an anti-sex retreat with your former fuckbuddy and dad’s best friend. Especially when sharing one cabin.

Warnings: 18+. IF HE AIN’T GRAYIN’ I AIN’T STAYIN’ 🗣️ [Age gap]. Unprotected p-in-v. Forced proximity. Joel making you fuck just his middle finger when he’s mad. Daddy kink. Overstimulation. First-time squirting. Angst.

Translations: ‘Don’t piss down my back & tell me it’s raining’ is a fun Southern phrase for, ‘Cut the bullshit’ or ‘Don’t lie.’

Sequel to Waiting Game & Hating Game (last rhyme I swear)

October 26, 2024

Dear Joel,

Roses are red,

We’re a couple of sluts,

Abstinence camp is awful,

I miss you rearranging my guts.

You were just about to put your pen back down to paper and add the finishing touch, signing an equally lascivious farewell, when the letter was snatched out of your hands. A tyrant in khaki capris and an artichoke-colored polo eyed over your words with a pointed look and frowned.

“Letters to the boyfriend have to be G-rated,” Marlene said, crumpling the thing in her fist before chucking it.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you returned shortly. Then, “That was actually meant for my dad’s friend.”

You sat tight a moment as the dots came to connect in the woman’s parochial and prudish mind—waiting for the wince of disgust to twitch at the corners of her eyes when she put two and two together. Once it did, you grinned. Even when she plucked the pen out of your hand and told you to sit outside, if you can’t participate in this one simple activity, you smiled bigger and strolled at a comfortable pace out the canteen door.

Anti-sex ‘summer camp’ wasn’t bad at all when you didn’t give a fuck what your counselors told you to do.

It was ridiculous, really. Absurd. Tommy Miller catching you sucking his brother’s dick under the table at your father’s birthday dinner, losing his shit with you both, then threatening to tell your dad everything if you didn’t agree to this stupid retreat and stop seeing each other. You’d barely been trapped in the shithole for twenty-four hours, and you already knew this angle wouldn’t work.

What many of your fellow campers affectionately called the ‘Firefly Fuck-Free Zone’ or the ‘Federal Dickriding Response Agency’ (F.E.D.R.A.) was in fact a secluded enclave south of Austin where khaki-clad monsters forced you to reckon with your sexual urges like one might treat a mutated strain of the Cordyceps fungus. You weren’t meant to keep them for long, and if you did, someone like Marlene would surely shame you for it.

Frankly, Tommy was dumb as shit if he thought this anti-boinking boot camp would have an effect on either one of you—Joel wouldn’t ever bang you again after what happened that night, but it wouldn’t be because of some arts and crafts bullshit he did out on a FEDRA ranch.

He just didn’t want your dad to find out and kill him.

That was a fair concern to have. You didn’t blame him.

Presently, you kicked your feet up on the porch outside the cafeteria, where the rest of the group was finishing up letters to their loved ones—this latest activity was meant to be ‘making amends’ to the people in your life—and you tipped your head back to survey the landscape.

Nothing but sweetgrass and gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Somewhere across the plains there was another cluster of cabins, though you couldn’t quite see it, and someplace within that minuscule cluster, you knew there was a middle-aged man. Dark grey eyebrows furrowed in concentration and chest heaving gently. Likely hunched over an old oak desk about five sizes too small for his frame as he gripped a pen and scribbled:

Dear Tommy,

Fuck you, you fucking fuck.

Sincerely,

Joel

You grinned again just thinking about it.

If anyone had a reason to be ticked off and terrified, it was Joel. And you, you guessed. You still hadn’t gotten your period—but that wasn’t due for another few days.

For now, you’d settled on worrying yourself over what would happen after the retreat had ended; what would you and Joel do once you went back to school? What would become of his life back in Austin with a supremely pissed off brother and a best friend who didn’t know his kid had been fooling around with a man twice her age?

Silently, you thanked your lucky stars Joel’s part of the camp was kept separate from yours, because you didn’t think you’d be able to keep a straight face if you saw him.

The whole thing was sickening, if not slightly funny.

You slipped Joel’s old pack of American Spirits out of your boot and fished in your back pocket for a lighter.

Then you crammed both back when you heard a boom:

“LAKESIDE GUIDED MEDITATION STARTS IN FIVE.”

The tinny intercom rang a deafening pitch in your ears. You clamped a palm over the left side of your head and winced, having forgotten this exercise in mindfulness was supposed to be the last event to wrap up your day. You just wanted to slink back up to your cabin and sleep. Or eat. Or slip your fingers between your aching legs and indulge in some much-needed Joel Miller reminiscing.

Then you recalled how masturbation was also off limits to all would-be sexaholic campers—if there was any time to sneak off and get busy by yourself while your counselors were otherwise occupied, now would be it.

Just as you cast a glance over your shoulder to see if a stealthy exit was even possible, a voice trilled overhead.

“On your feet, skank.”

You looked back fast, and damn did Tess look smug.

Your bunkmate crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe, seeming to feel your thoughts before they’d even been fully processed.

“If you skip meditation, I think Marlene’s gonna take you behind the rec and shoot you in the head,” she added.

“How kind.”

“Yeah? Certain death?”

“Better than the dick deprivation,” you grumbled, only half-kidding as you dragged yourself back to your feet.

Theresa Servopoulos was no avid fan of penis herself—she much preferred women when she had her pick of it—but she grinned all the same and clapped a comforting hand over your shoulder before the two of you started walking down the mess hall’s front steps. Then she only laughed a little bit when you almost ate shit treading down the winding rocky trail to the lake and cursed your present lack of intercourse for causing your clumsiness.

“You realize it’s only been, like…a day, right?” she said.

“Might as well be a million,” you muttered, “I feel like I’m never getting laid again.”

“Oh?”

Tess gripped your elbow when a root protruding from the path nearly sent you flying again. She tried not to smile.

“Well…my fake brother’s mad at me for going behind his back and fucking his brother,” you explained, coolly.

Stupidly.

“Wait—you fucked your brother?!”

That stopped Tess in her tracks. The two of you were approaching the cusp of a clearing, just feet away from where the forest gave way to the shoreline of the lake. Folks were already congregating at the water’s edge.

“Any day now, ladies,” Marlene called through cupped hands. Tess was still regarding you with eyes the size of saucers as you traipsed across the way to that voice.

“Not my brother,” you hissed.

“You said your brother’s brother. That makes this guy your brother, too,” Tess whispered—still far too loud.

“Not my actual brother, he’s just— fuck—”

Suddenly, two scraps of red fabric were catapulted in your direction. Tess caught one. You caught the other.

“Tie ‘em over your eyes.” Marlene ordered.

“The fuck?” you mumbled, but ventured nothing more as you were ushered to join the group sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of you. Everyone else was tying bandanas around their eyes like all of this was normal.

“Another trust exercise,” Tess’s voice was low as you dropped your asses one after the other on the sand. Speaking like a seasoned veteran of the anti-sex retreat, she helped you get yours on and shot you one last ‘You-better-not-have-actually-fucked-your-sibling’ look before letting you help her secure her blindfold, too.

Just as Marlene began describing in great detail what this blind, guided meditation in self-love and elemental trust was meant to look like, your friend opted to give voice to her concerns the second the opportunity arose.

Still seated side-by-side, still blind, Tess leaned over.

“Please tell me you’re not here for bangin’ your brother.”

You had to stifle a laugh.

“I am not.”

“Then explain, Cersei!”

Just then, a throat cleared behind you. Evidently another camp counselor at your rear was telling you, wordlessly, to shut the fuck up and listen to the instructions. You and Tess just scooted closer and lowered your voices.

“So this guy, Tommy…he’s been like a big brother to me for years. Worked with my dad and always had my back for the wild shit I did back in high school,” you began.

“Uh-huh.”

“His big brother, Joel, is like…old as shit, but wildly hot.”

“Dangerous combo.”

“And Joel’s my dad’s best friend. Drove me back from college over fall break when he was visiting Boston, we took a little motel detour on the road trip home, and bam—” You snapped your fingers for effect, “We fuck, right?”

“Right.”

“—imagine you’re standing at the edge of a waterfall—”

Marlene couldn’t be serious with this hippy dippy shit. You tuned out the rest of what she said and continued:

“It’s incredible. But the condom busts open at the end—”

“Oh shit.”

“—deep breath in…and release…and again, we—”

“Freak the fuck out, right? I’m poppin’ Plan B like candy.”

“As you should.”

“—hold that breath in right there—”

“A week later, me and Joel hook up at my dad’s birthday party. Only we fuck up, ‘cause Tommy catches us, and—”

This time, the counselor who’d cleared their throat to shut you up took to nudging you both in the back with the toe of their shoe. You straightened up, tilted your head back, and scowled at them through your blindfold.

“Do you mind?” you said, turning in place but unable to see anything behind you. You imagined whoever had just butted in on your conversation was probably frowning. They said nothing in return, just huffed like a child.

“Anyway.” You pivoted back to Tess, “Tommy flips his lid, tells us he’s gonna snitch on us to my dad if we keep fucking around like that, and then he…sends us here.”

You heard your friend fight back a chuckle beside you.

“And abstinence camp is supposed to cure you of this awful disease? Wanting to fuck daddy’s best friend?”

Oddly, you wanted to giggle too. You weren’t sure what was so funny, or why Tess’s tone made you want to say something equally out of pocket and lewd, but then you were leaning over before you could even think twice:

“That old man’s dick is like a fuckin’ drug, dude.”

You wished you could’ve seen her face when you said it. But you didn’t need to catch a single glimpse to know she was grinning big and dumb when she whispered,

“Prehistoric cock must’ve been pretty nice, huh?”

You choked. She snorted. You returned, next, shortly,

“Best senior citizen schlong I’ve had in my life.”

You weren’t sure which one of you burst out laughing first. Maybe Tess. Probably you. Either way, both of your sides were splitting in seconds, as the ridiculous and just marginally offensive descriptors for Joel’s dick trembled at the tips of your tongues. You felt like a teenager again, telling your friend your filthiest desires for the DILF-next-door—except this time, you’d actually fucked him. Small perks to seeking out middle-aged men in your twenties. You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to rein in the peals of laughter as Tess wheezed quietly beside you.

Then you felt hands.

Two palms under your armpits, yanking you up.

You stumbled back, graceless and still staving off half a laugh as your back struck the counselor’s chest.

“Just…take her back up.” You heard a female’s voice to your left, low and not sounding particularly amused.

Take you where? Was this the part where Marlene dragged you behind the rec and shot you in the head?

About damn time.

Whoever had grabbed you grunted in acknowledgment. You swayed in their arms, trying to regain better footing, but the grip tightened up in a second and thrust you sideways. You staggered, cursing your captor.

“Fucker,” you hissed.

Fucker said nothing.

Their hands slipped from your pits to one of your wrists, leading you away from the lake in long strides. You were moving so fast you scarcely had the chance to pull the blindfold back, so you just kept walking. Marching.

“Can you slow the fuck down, please?”

You imagined the face of the person leading you forward might’ve twisted in a scowl. Their lips didn’t stir, though.

In a matter of minutes, your feet were crunching on the flat, gravelly terrain you knew to lay under the cabins. This person was leading you back. Likely to throw you off to your room in the next several moments—but not before ripping you a new one for disrupting the peace back down at the lake. You weren’t stoked to hear it.

“Alright, just—” You tripped as you were led up the rickety steps, cursing again, “—just leave me right here.”

A set of knuckles at your spine thrust you forward.

“No? Okay. Fine. Whatever.”

You shook your head as you entered the cabin and heard footsteps follow you in. It occurred to you then that now was probably a good time to take off the blindfold.

Before you could, though, it was ripped off for you.

“Pack your shit.”

Dude.

You spun on your heels.

“DUDE!”

Your eyes moved up the very khaki shorts you despised, the puke-colored polo, the neatly embroidered camp logo, and a nametag strangely labeled ‘Lucien Flores.’ Everything in the ensemble screamed ‘camp counselor.’ But the face above it—it wasn’t one of their own at all.

It was far too lax. Fresh with an easy, shit-eating grin.

“Sweetheart—”

He started to speak, only to get the wind knocked out of his chest when you threw your arms around him.

The barrage of kisses came without you ever really intending to place them at all. You were just so stunned, practically overcome with joy to see Joel Miller in all his ruggedly handsome glory, then confused. What was he doing here, and why was he dressed head-to-toe as a counselor? And why were you so into that on him?

You doubted you could even ask the questions, and he was barely more able to answer the longer you stayed latched to his neck, kissing him everywhere your mouth could get to. You’d just stood on tip-toes to press your lips to his when you realized he wasn’t reaching back.

His hands hung limply at his sides. Still, he smiled.

“Abstinence camp ain’t taught ya much, has it?”

You parted your lips to drag your teeth along the grey-spattered scruff on his cheek—biting but not quite. Begging him to kiss you back, grab your ass, anything to quell this anguish twisting low in your stomach at the lack of contact. Joel didn’t seem keen on answering to it.

“I’ve learned plenty, Miller,” you panted against his jaw, before moving below it to sink into the skin of his neck, “Lemme show you all the stuff FEDRA told us not to do.”

Yes, you sounded desperate. No, you didn’t really care. You were much too busy fiddling with the front of Joel’s shorts to concern yourself with anything but his cock. It made it all the more gut-wrenchingly horrific and disconcerting when you felt his hands push yours away.

“No,” Joel said, simply. Then, nodding to your luggage at the foot of your bunk, “Pack your stuff, sweets. C’mon.”

He was seriously trying to break you out?

You admired the cojones on the man, but you wanted to fuck real quick to get it out of your system. Needed it.

“Joel, I—” You swallowed thickly, shaking your head.

What your mouth couldn’t finish, your eyes said clear as day: I want you to take me right here. Quick and dirty. But, again, Joel seemed completely impervious to your pleas. Almost callous in the face of such a desperate request made from your eyes to his. He moved over toward your suitcase when you didn’t want to budge.

Luckily for you, you’d never unpacked. All that was left were the clothes on your back and a water bottle on the nightstand. Joel grabbed the latter and turned around to snag the suitcase on his way to the door, when he was met with you. Obstructing his path and frowning a little.

“Joel?” You raised a brow.

“Mm?”

The man in front of you straightened up, rolling a nonexistent kink from his neck before regarding you.

His gaze was alarmingly sedate.

“Y’know, you’ve got quite the knack for makin’ shit difficult—”

“Just a quickie, Miller—”

“I ain’t fuckin’ you here!”

The sudden boom of his voice should’ve startled you. But then a broad, warm palm came to rest on your shoulder, and Joel’s expression dropped immediately. There was still a tightness to it, somewhere deep within, and you couldn’t quite work out why he seemed so…off.

Then you caught sight of something steely in his gaze.

It just might’ve clicked if Joel didn’t reach for your face and elucidate things for you himself, eyes narrowing.

“I know my old man dick is like a fuckin’ drug and all…”

Shit.

Cheeks squished between his two big hands, you had only to stare. And blink. And silently regret being so loud when you were talking to Tess before. It didn’t look good.

“Joel—”

“No, no, my senile brain must be mistaken—it was actually that prehistoric cock that did it for ya.”

Your face heated with shame. You blinked again.

But just as you tried to shake your head between Joel’s hands, he pressed his palms tighter and drew you closer.

“Senior. citizen. schlong?” he intoned, painfully slow.

“Joel, I just—”

“Need to fuck someone your own age, it sounds like.”

The man in front of you released your face just as fast as he’d grabbed it, and when he stepped back, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of desperation. That wasn’t what you’d meant! It sounded so puerile and cruel coming out of his lips like this, but you had to tell him it was a joke.

“It was a joke.”

No time to mince words now.

“Real fuckin’ comedic genius,” Joel snorted.

He rolled his eyes and tried to sidestep you, but you mirrored the movement. When your hands flew to his chest to keep him from moving, please, just listen to me, Joel, he pretended not to hear it, or feel it, against him.

“Alright. Enough,” he muttered, “‘S’time to go home.”

“No!”

“No?”

“No.”

For the first time, you saw Joel’s nostrils flare. You pressed into his sternum again, hoping to hold him in place so you could explain yourself, but it seemed he wasn’t planning on staying stationary. Joel dropped to your bunk—or Tess’s, technically—and situated himself comfortably on the bed before shooting you a look. You barely had had a moment’s time to contemplate your next move when he yanked you onto the cot with him.

Joel didn’t try to kiss you. He didn’t attempt to remove one article of clothing from your body or his. He just sat there, staring, while you straddled his hips staring back.

“If you wanna fuck me so bad, go right ahead,” he said, motioning indistinctly in front of him, “Be my guest.”

When you stilled, he added, “That is all y’want, right?”

With your palms laying flat on his chest and a head full of conflicting thoughts—you did want to bang him, obviously, but not before you’d gotten a chance to set things straight, not when he was looking at you like this—you chewed your bottom lip. Certainly you couldn’t continue while Joel still believed you were embarrassed by his age, his lips downturned and humorless as ever.

“C’mon,” he tried again, a touch more venom laced in his words as he spoke, “Show me how much ya want it.”

You needed time to think.

“Why are you…dressed like this?” you said, stalling.

But Joel wouldn’t be kind enough to give you that time.

“Stole the uniform so I could sneak out and over here and get you out. Are we gonna fuck now or what?”

His hands moved over your own to guide them to his lower half, just above where your clothed core was touching his. Your fingers moved mechanically, almost reluctantly, to undo the button and zip of his shorts.

Was that a flash of hurt you saw in his eyes?

You’d never been good at this communication bullshit. Neither had Joel. The two of you would probably just have sex now to hash out your feelings, as was par for the course for a pair of emotionally stunted individuals. It still pained you to see him look at you like that, though.

“Tess and me were just kidding, baby.”

You palmed the bulge in his boxers and heard him grunt. When you nudged his cock out of the fabric to stroke him, his eyes fluttered shut and he sucked in a breath.

“I would never say those things to hurt you,” you added.

“Didn’t hurt me none,” Joel returned instantly. Then, feeling you flick the pad of your thumb over the head of his cock, he exhaled and held his face firm in place. Like he didn’t want you to see the effect you had on him.

You let go of his cock to take off your socks and shoes. Then your top. Then your shorts. Then you slid down his body a little, unsure if this was the time to be trying something new. Or even doing this kind of stuff at all.

At first, you just sort of lowered yourself to Joel’s groin, his dick resting comfortably between your tits. Then you started to move, and your hands were cupping either side of your breasts to push inward on his member. Before you even fully knew what you were doing, you were squeezing Joel’s dick with the soft, supple flesh and stroking him gently. Gaze glued to him all the while.

His eyes cracked open to catch you watching him. Evidently, Joel couldn’t contain all of his reactions, because he audibly groaned when you got going.

Sliding your tits up and down his shaft, feeling him pulse between them. Sensing a warmth pool in your own lower half but being too focused, and slightly ashamed, to act. You just wanted to make Joel feel good, even if your words weren’t able to do the trick with apologizing.

“Come here,” you beckoned him with just one finger as you slid off the bed, to the floor. Joel sat up, and you kneeled obediently between his legs. The two of you shared a tense, sexless look for a second before you lowered yourself back down and resumed the position.

This time, Joel could—and did—stir his hips to create some friction between your tits. His brow pinched inward with a muted concentration, and you wanted to say it looked handsome on him, that you were sorry for saying those stupid things to Tess and making him doubt your affection for him, but you kept your mouth shut. You had to remind yourself that emotions had no place between two needy, unfeeling people who just wanted to fuck.

Maybe that was how it should’ve been from the start.

But watching Joel’s face twist and contort in pleasure nearly wiped the thought clean out of your brain forever.

You felt many things for him, whether you liked it or not.

You really wished you hadn’t said the things you’d said.

Joel braced his hands at the edge of the bed on either side of him, hips working a steady pace to fuck your tits. He was staring mostly at the spot where the head of his cock was poking up through your cleavage with each thrust, entranced by the sight, and in a second, a full-throated moan was fighting its way out of his chest. He spit in his hand and paused to smear the stuff on his shaft, on your tits. Spit again and rubbed even harder.

Seeing him so cold and detached, you wanted to apologize again. Maybe beg him to say something kind.

Instead, you mumbled, “I love it when you fuck my tits.”

Joel scarcely acknowledged the remark, just letting you work yourself over him, meet his shallow thrusts, look sweet and wait patiently for him to cum all over you. When it seemed he might be ready to do it, though, Joel withdrew from you the next second and moved back on the bed. He pulled you into his lap, straddling again, but this time situated over the side of the bed—him sitting up, you perched on the flat, sturdy expanse of his thighs facing him. In the space between your bodies, Joel slid a quiet and almost careless hand to your heat, flicking the sheer fabric of your panties to the side in one go.

The moment his fingers made contact, you flinched.

It wasn’t that you were opposed to his touch, you just felt unfairly balanced in this situation. Joel appeared so stoic; you, a complete and utter wreck. Fighting fifteen different emotions at once and feeling unusually vulnerable spread open to him now, you almost didn’t register what he was doing—or what his hand might find.

Joel’s groan brought you back, though. When he rubbed his knuckles over the seam of your cunt and practically choked out twice his lung’s capacity, you had to look.

Aloof as he tried to be, the man’s desire was painted all over his expression. And his crotch. And his hand.

Well, actually, that last bit of arousal was yours.

“Fuckin’ soakin’ me, sweetie,” Joel breathed.

You perked up at the term of endearment. Watching one glistening fist of his make its way back and forth against your body, smearing sticky wet pleasure all over your mound and your folds, you found yourself gnawing your lip once more, this time for entirely different reasons.

Joel seemed to soften—even if only for a glaring carnal need, you didn’t care. You sank into this gentler touch.

“Khakis kinda suit you, Miller,” you said, off-handed.

Really, Joel looked almost as comical as he was sexy in that camp counselor getup: tan shorts stretched tight over even tanner legs, polyester top sitting pretty on wide, hulking shoulders, that silly stitched logo for the camp emblazoned over his left pec, and, of course, the nametag that didn’t belong to him but to Lucien. The whole thing was so alien to his lumberjack-chic demeanor that he nearly seemed boyish. Endearing. Some spearmint-scented hottie you might’ve had a crush on at camp years ago. You couldn’t help but smile.

Joel tried not to hold your gaze for too long.

“Don’t go pissin’ down my back and tell me it’s rainin’.”

When he slid one finger to your entrance, you tensed again, but smiled just the same and let out a breath. You felt him prod at the warm, wet skin and thumb at your clit, and something told you that he’d wanted to grin too.

“I’m serious,” you said, “Scout’s hon—ohfuckfuckfuck.”

Joel pushed one finger inside you. In spite of the ease with which he slipped between your walls, that gentle sensation made it wonderfully snug. He gripped your hip and started moving his single digit in and out, and in spite of yourself, you squirmed a bit. Joel never failed to call you out for doing that; today would be no different.

“Easy, sweet pea,” he hummed when you jumped again.

But you couldn’t help it. Your hands quickly anchored themselves to Joel’s shoulders, your legs spread wider, and your hips started stirring—bucking, really—against each teasing touch. It was still just one thick finger of his.

You glanced down and saw that it was his middle finger, in particular. The double meaning wasn’t lost on you.

“Another,” you pleaded.

“Nuh-uh.”

“You’re a mean ol— mean man.” You tried to correct course when you felt a mention of ‘old’ slip back into your vernacular, and inwardly, you cringed at your words.

Joel had already heard it. He cocked one eyebrow.

“Mean ol’ man?” he scoffed, still fingerfucking you softly. When you bucked against it, he nodded as if to say ‘fair enough.’

Then, before you could chime in, he nodded some more.

His expression was hard.

“Fuck my hand,” he said.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You weren’t quite sure what he meant for you to do. When he nodded a third time, the gesture was accompanied by a quick dart of his eyes to the place where your cunt was being penetrated by his one finger. He curled the finger inward, and when you twitched at the hot throb of pleasure that followed, he grunted.

Fuck my hand.

Nails still searing tiny half-moons into his shoulders, you acted more out of impulse than by command. The look from Joel sure didn’t hurt, though. The second you started rolling your hips, he nodded again. Holding onto his praises for now and simply showing approbation.

“Like that,” he murmured.

All you were doing was rocking back and forth over his finger, whimpers percolating quietly in your chest, but the act alone made you feel desperate. And Joel smug.

It was like he wanted to see you getting off to this one, comparatively smaller part of him without being filled. Bucking plaintively to find that fullness and coming back empty every time. Your whimpers turned into whines.

“Need more,” you keened.

“Yeah?” Joel replied gently.

“Yeah.”

A beat, then:

“Tough shit.”

But he said it so goddamn sweet you had to do a double take to make sure you’d heard him correctly. When you met Joel’s eyes, you saw a hint of amusement lingering behind them. Then he squeezed your hip again and started helping you move into his hand, up and down.

“Only givin’ more fingers to good girls, y’hear?” he said.

“What about your cock?” You couldn’t help it.

Joel just breathed out through his nose. In a second, he went from camp counselor to disapproving father figure.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?”

That was all he needed to say, but the firm plunge of his middle finger certainly put a finer point on it. He curled the digit again and, upon grazing that spongy surface inside you, saw another desperate plea in your eyes.

And pleasure.

The pleasure ran almost as intense as the desperation.

Your head fell back when Joel got to making those ‘come hither’ motions again and again, thumb circling your clit, eyes trained on your figure with a marked concern. Like the prospect of not drawing an orgasm out of you in the next two minutes might very well ruin the man’s night.

“‘S’alright, honey,” Joel said quietly.

Then, finding your gaze when your head tilted back,

“Be a good girl and let go for me. Let go for daddy, hm?”

Fortunately for him, that one low hum and another flick of his middle finger and thumb were all you needed to find your release. You came on his hand with a sharp, pitiful cry and a ‘Fuckthatfeelssogooddaddyplease,’ hips working feverishly against his hand as you rode out your high. The sight of you bouncing up and down on his open palm and the way your eyes rolled back, begging him to fuck you full of his cock next, felt wildly obscene.

Joel loved obscene. Needed obscene. Hot. Febrile. Raw.

He nodded again.

Before you’d even descended fully from those staggering heights, his finger was moving too—joined by two more. Joel stuffed his index and ring fingers inside your still-pulsing hole and pretended not to hear your soft cry.

After all, you’d asked for more before. Joel was just sating your desire; your overwrought body would be fine.

“Joel,” you hissed, seizing his wrist.

“Too much?” he returned.

You tried to verbalize some answer but were cut short by a punishing stretch—all three fingers plunging in and out of your sensitive, drooling cunt and making it full of him.

“Too soon?” he tried again.

“I—”

“Too fast?”

“N—”

“Too…old?” Joel pressed after a beat.

There was an air of feigned condescension in his tone as he took on a faster pace gliding his thick, calloused fingers between your walls. You might’ve screamed if you hadn’t found your forehead pressed to his and the warmth of his irises boring into yours while he did it all. At this distance, you could discern a trace of hurt again. Something needing to be soothed inside Joel Miller.

You rutted your hips and shook your head, skull still stuck to his as you did so. Whimpers coming low.

“I didn’t…mean it,” you managed at length.

“What? That I’m ‘old as shit but wildly hot’?”

Joel wedged his fingers straight down to the knuckle and nearly tore a shriek out of your body. His eyes were surprisingly soft. Making sure your pleasure was all there.

“Hyperbole,” you choked, voice hoarse.

Then your jaw grew lax when a hand cupped your chin. All you wanted to do was melt into Joel, but you sensed something brewing again behind those honeyed eyes. Blinking was all you could do to keep your composure.

“You’re right, darlin’,” Joel said, “I am too old for you.”

Right after a clench in your tummy, a hurried word leapt up to your tongue, ‘NO!’ and you had to swallow a moan to keep from succumbing to the pleasure Joel was bringing with his fingers. Sandwiched between two orgasms was no time for a serious argument to take place, but there you were, fighting against it anyway.

“N-No,” you stammered. Stupid.

“I am.” His voice came softer somehow, more resigned.

When outright rejection of the claim seemed futile, you tried to pivot. Climax still closing in as fast as ever.

“I don’t care about that,” you hissed, exhaling hard when the first ripples of bliss crept up toward your stomach.

Joel watched you with careful eyes.

“Yeah? And Tess?”

“Joel—”

“Or Tommy.”

“I don’t—”

“Everyone else?”

Almost against your will, those minuscule ripples turned to waves of full-blown euphoria, and then you were clenching again on Joel’s hand and crying out in climax. You willed your gaze not to stray from his, but it was tough. Especially when the eyes beneath your own seemed so fucking morose and removed from you.

Don’t do this to me, Miller. Don’t do it, don’t do it.

In the wake of what should’ve been consummate satisfaction, you found yourself retreating to a place more akin to starvation—suddenly eager to get your mouth over his and start kissing, tonguing, and scraping your teeth like you’d missed out on a full week’s worth of meals. Feeling selfish but also uncertain how else to proceed—was Joel Miller breaking up with you here?

You couldn’t be sure, because he kissed you back. Joel kissed you and cupped your cheeks, then chased your frame all the way down to the coarse, scratchy sheets of the bed, where he was quick to climb on top of you.

Hell, it seemed breathing was too tough to accomplish with your frenzied pace and the continuous stream of open-mouthed kisses placed anywhere and everywhere. A groan from Joel trembled between your lips as you helped him get his shorts and boxers the rest of the way down his legs—all but dragging them with your heels—and he tightened a fist in your hair when they were off.

“I shouldn’t’a come here,” he mumbled.

“But you did,” you panted.

Both of you got lost in another onslaught of kisses, and you tried not to sigh. Joel was still battling something.

Even as he peeled your panties off and lined himself up with your entrance, he seemed resolved to stay quiet. Holding your gaze and not saying what had to be said.

He was a lot like you in that way.

You kept kissing him anyway.

The events that followed seemed to you little more than fleeting, happy scenes from a film you’d always wanted to see—an eager Joel, a caring Joel, an I-don’t-think-I’m-physically-capable-of-holding-you-any-closer Joel. The weight of his cock a welcome friend and the kisses somehow far too intimate to be considered friendly at all. You’d almost forgotten you were at a camp designed to prevent this very thing from happening between two stupid, impulsive people like you, and you didn’t care.

All you knew was a yawning stretch—that aching, empty void filled to perfection by Joel’s member—and the shockwaves of pleasure that vibrated in bands all the way down to the balls of your feet. You felt safe and secure caged between two muscular arms, and you reveled in a warmth that spanned every inch of your body touching his. The weight suffocating and somehow not oppressive; Joel cradled your head to make sure of it.

“Ain’t…hurtin’ ya, am I?” he said when you winced.

You shook your head against his sweaty palms to say that he wasn’t; you were just adjusting. He scanned your face for any trace of insincerity but found nothing.

In this tender position, your brain was ready to burst—whether from guilt, shame, ruthless self-loathing, or a sobering sense of closeness, you weren’t sure. All four seemed to form the impetus for the words that came next, which were soft, repeated apologies against Joel’s mouth. He swallowed each one without a second thought.

“Quit sayin’ it,” he rasped, low.

“I’m sorry, Joel, I’m sorr—”

Soft lips again. ‘S’okay, honey.’

You weren’t sure why, but your face felt extra hot.

Joel pressed his thumbs on either side of it while he kissed you and went deeper. Then he squeezed even more, and your breath hitched quietly in your throat.

Aw, shit, he could probably feel your heart running amok in your chest and thrumming like crazy right now.

“Ain’t nothin’—” Joel paused to send one measured thrust along your cervix, “—to be sorry for. Nothin’.”

Your legs tightened at his sides when his hips started to snap in quick, stuttered motions, desperate for more friction and depth. He got both, and he groaned feeling you tighten around him as he filled your cunt to the brim. The silky warmth of your walls drawing him in was almost too much, and every now and then he’d have to slow to mutter some, ‘’S’fuckin’ chokin’ me, honey, ya feel that?’ or ‘This pussy’s just made to take me, huh?’

Joel asked like he actually needed the reassurance. As if the slick, dripping arousal coating his length and the sounds of your whimpers mixed in with those wet slaps weren’t enough—as if he had to have deeper consolation.

He was splitting you open and looked guilty as he did it.

Still shaking with each thrust, you helped him slide his shirt over his head and bring him bare, chest-to-chest with you. You couldn’t ignore the tension any longer.

“Joel, I fuckin’ love— I need you inside,” you managed.

“You do?”

“Uh-huh.”

His face softened.

“‘S’mine, isn’t it?”

He said it so fast you couldn’t make out if it were really a question or a simple statement of fact. His balls routinely smacking your ass, eyes searching yours, always gentle.

“Say that you’re mine.”

No, Joel—don’t do that, don’t say it like that.

Your visceral reaction was to recoil. You couldn’t because he had you pinned, but damn did you want to—not him, not this, not now, Joel, why would you fucking say that?

The look in his eyes now surpassed the hurt from before. It was open and aching, even as he drilled your body in two at a near-ruthless pace. Asking you so sincerely.

The obstinacy inside you was almost laughable. Damn near sent your head spinning in a fit of hysterics at how much you wanted to say but wouldn’t; how much you sensed lay waiting to fly off Joel’s tongue but couldn’t. If you were any more emotionally pent-up you might’ve ruptured a blood vessel and lost all ability to think.

It didn’t help that you were both about to cum.

Or that Joel’s right hand was fumbling for your clit.

His expression was steady as ever when you jumped, made a whining noise below him, and grabbed his wrist. You looked down to where your bodies were joined and got a dizzying glimpse of that sight: cunt swallowing Joel’s cock repeatedly, pleasure pooling between your two bodies, then a digit at that little bundle of nerves.

He kissed your hairline and hummed.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Whose pussy is this?”

His thrusts sped up, along with his thumb.

“Don’t.” Not an answer but a warning: tread lightly, Joel.

He kissed your forehead again. And again. For a second you thought he might stay that way until you both came, but then his lips were finding yours, mumbling softly,

“Say no one’s gonna fuck you but me.”

“But—”

“None of those pencil-dick douchebag Delta Sigma whatever-the-fuck ya call ‘ems—” Joel continued, unfazed, “—not your lab partner, not your hallmate—”

His cock was gliding in and out of you at a punishing pace now. Wonderfully slick with sounds obscenely piercing to your ears. You could feel Joel digging in the depths of your tight, throbbing cunt, could see his expression contort with much the same pleasure you were experiencing yourself, and could very well smell the faint aroma of American Spirits still staining his breath. Joel Miller was a sick fuck for what he was doing to you, and he knew it. You nipped at his lower lip in between tender kisses and quietly-spoken words, and whimpered.

“—not your TAs, not your professors—” he pressed on.

You opened your mouth to let a lewd moan escape when Joel lifted his hand to shove a thumb inside. Instinctively, you sucked the whole thing straight down to the knuckle.

“Nobody but me, y’hear that?” Afforded better leverage with his finger wedged between your teeth, he shook your head a little as he fucked you. Watched you bob and nod a wordless ‘yes’ in doe-eyed complaisance while his cock drove shockwaves of pleasure straight through you.

He rubbed his thumb back and forth, and you let him.

You drooled all over that man’s finger like it might’ve been supplying oxygen to your lungs, and when Joel leaned in and said, ‘Ya like that, sweet pea?’, you answered in the affirmative. Or at least as close as you could get while Joel was filling up his two favorite holes.

Your orgasm was maybe two strokes away from shattering bones, it seemed. Now was his chance.

Swiftly, Joel retracted his touch just far enough to drag a string of saliva out of your mouth—then deliver a taut but gentle slap to your cheek. The soft thwack, combined with the sounds your bodies were making down below, served only to elevate the pornographic pitch of your moan:

“Joel!”

“That’s right.”

Joel’s mouth hovered an inch over yours, half-smirking, as if waiting to suck the words clean off of your lips. You whined when his thrusts got quicker and the mouth that was grinning got to kissing your own again. Talking dirty, too.

“Show me who this cunt belongs to. Say it,” he grunted.

You clenched, kissed him back, were just barely aware of the words you were trying to form when you stuttered some unintelligible, ‘Y-Y—ohfuckdaddyjustlikethatoh—’

Oh.

Your eyes widened to Joel’s, and before you could even begin to process what was happening to your body, his name just snapped off your tongue like a shot. A shriek. Some blissfully half-strangled moan that Joel captured between his teeth as he fucked you into the mattress and held your body tight to his own. His palm was wet.

Your legs were wet.

The soft, heaving juncture between your bodies was wet.

You were only dimly aware of the sensation as you dug your heels in Joel’s back and let out a series of cries and moans, but then that fluttering feeling inside made you flinch. A pulsing between your thighs and a…warmth.

You were still blinking through a post-euphoric haze when you felt a soft heat simmer and sink within you.

Did Joel just…cum inside you? Again?

“You dumb motherfucker,” you hissed without hesitation.

You’d just managed to shove him away—not far, but away—when you scrambled into a sitting position and slapped a hand over your stomach. Expecting to feel a churning and an awful pinch as you came to make out some vague sensation of Joel’s seed painting your insides, you were surprised when you didn’t get it at all.

In point of fact, Joel had just sprayed a full Jackson Pollock onto your stomach and was blinking, still fisting his cock as you quickly made your way back to your feet.

Where was that wetness coming from?

You stood and stared down at your stomach. Your legs. The translucent, trickling something that had paved a clear path between your thighs and all over Joel’s front. It didn’t make sense, unless—

“You fuckin’ squirted!” Joel cheered.

Your first instinct was to make a face.

That shit only happened in poorly produced pornos and movies based on books by Colleen Hoover, not real-life human beings. What the hell was this man on about?

“Be fucking serious,” you scowled, reaching for a stray shirt on the floor. Before realizing it was even yours, you hastily swiped several big globs of Joel’s cum with it. Your face grew even more enflamed, and yourself, oddly…ashamed. You couldn’t quite make sense of why Joel was grinning so big, or why you felt so embarrassed by what appeared to be a natural bodily function, but you suspected it probably had something to do with the state of sex education in Texas. Those fuckers definitely skipped squirting in favor of abstinence-only rhetoric.

Still weird. Still gross. You wished Joel would stop smiling.

“Lose the look or I’ll slap that fuckin’ grey off your head.”

Admittedly, neither aftercare nor communication was your métier. You started throwing on clothes, annoyed.

Meanwhile, Joel was swiping moisture off his abdomen three thick fingers at a time and wiggling the residue up for you to see—‘All it is is a sign of good lovin’, sweets, ain’t nothin’a be ashamed of!’—and you gave him just one finger in return. You were sliding your shorts up your legs and attempting to scrap the jizz off your FEDRA top when Joel started shrugging on his stolen clothes, too.

Your back was turned to him, eyes scanning the almost too-calm outdoors through the window a minute later, when you felt an arm snake close around your waist.

“Tastes a little like honey,” Joel crooned in your ear, doubtlessly smirking as he swayed you, “Only sweeter.”

You rolled your eyes. No cunt tasted like a honeycomb.

And you tried to say as much when he stroked over the strip of exposed skin between your shorts and the hem of your shirt, squeezing you tighter, but Joel was too good. He spidered a teasing touch over your tummy and yanked you back into his chest when you squealed and tried to break free. Then your sides, your ribcage, your shoulder blades—anyplace Joel could tickle, he tried to—and most spots, you were squeamish as hell. You clamped a hand over your half-open, giggling mouth, and when you felt him flip you around, you didn’t protest.

Suddenly, Joel’s hands were on either side of your face. He wasn’t smiling quite so big anymore but nevertheless maintained a kind glint behind his eyes. They were soft.

“‘M’sorry,” he said.

Then, pausing as if to consider his words, he said,

“You did great.”

He stopped again to press a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“So good.”

When he saw another smile twitch at the corners of your lips, as though asking him for more, he kissed those too.

“If that was your first time with…that…I’m, uh…”

“What?”

Another beat. Another stupid, stubbled grin.

“The luckiest…senior citizen sonovabitch, I guess.”

At the tail end of that, and once Joel had punctuated his sentence with another tender peck, you met his gaze again. Somehow, it had only gotten softer. His thumbs were searing the gentlest of imprints in the apples of your cheeks, his breaths were even and warm, and if you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought the man was contemplating saying something else to you then.

He didn’t.

The bridge to an old Billy Joel song made sure of that.

“And when she’s walkin’, she’s lookin’ so f-i-i-i-ine.”

You heard gravel crunch outside the cabin.

“And when she’s talkin’, she’ll say that she’s m-i-i-i-ine.”

Footsteps bounding up the half-rotted, cedar steps.

“She’ll say I’m not so tough just because I’m in love wi—SHIT.”

Tess’s face went blank the second the door swung open.

Thankfully, both of you were clothed. You and Joel leapt apart like she’d just caught you in doggy, though. And Tess looked like she might’ve seen an asscheek or two with the way she was staring at you both, letting the screen door slam shut, and a wordless ‘what-the-fuck’ caught somewhere in the tepid air between you three.

You stared at Tess, and Tess stared at you. Joel peered over her shoulder for the arrival of any more onlookers or folks just wanting to sing ‘Uptown Girl’ in your general vicinity. Fortunately, no one else appeared behind her.

But Tess looked awestruck enough for fifty people. She blinked and visibly swallowed as her gaze shifted to Joel.

“So FEDRA does dick appointments now?” she hissed.

“No!”

“I’m not—”

“He’s from the other camp.”

“You’re shitting me. Absolutely shitting me right now.”

You brought both hands to your face in a stifling, quiet desperation, unsure what to do. Joel just blinked back.

“I’m—we’re—” he started.

“Fucking!” Tess bit back, “You are so fucking. Raw.”

She wasn’t wrong. Her sixth sense for knowing who was having clandestine sex in her bed was kind of insane.

But, where you expected a look of horror to crawl into those taut, too-smart-for-her-own-good features, you found your bunkmate starting to raise her eyebrows.

Then laugh.

Tess threw her head back and laughed because she thought you were boinking a FEDRA camp counselor.

Joel shared a similar look of surprise but didn’t laugh.

“Yeah, I’m uh…J—” Again, he made as if to speak, to introduce himself, but Tess cut him off. About to wheeze.

“Lucien Flores, you dirty dog!” she cackled.

Joel glanced down at his nametag, started to shake his head, and probably didn’t anticipate Tess smacking him on the shoulder in a semi-congratulatory sort of way. Given a little more muscle to the playful punch, she just might’ve knocked him over. Joel was then trying to pry the pin off his polo just as you stepped closer to her.

“Tess, he’s…” You considered spilling the beans en masse but quickly decided against it. You’d have to stick to the barest of bones if you had any hope of escaping this place. So, resuming, you squeezed her arm and just said:

“Flores is gonna bust us out. Get your shit and we’ll go.”

Theresa Servopoulos didn’t need to be told twice.

And when she scrambled over to her sex-stricken bunk, inquired with a hurried but patently grossed out expression about who the fuck had wet the bed while she was gone, Joel didn’t hesitate—he said it was him.

“FEDRA man with a piss kink. I like you already, Lucien.”

#ONE CABIN 🏚️ #ONE BAND #ONE DREAM #ONE DIRECTION #IF YOU THOUGHT I WAS GONNA BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS YOU WOULD BE MISTAKEN HAHAHAHA #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dbf!joel

[spicycinnabun]

Eddie tapped his pen against his clipboard, sighing loudly as the second to last auditionee left the stage, accordion and all. He crossed the name out on his sheet. “Okay, no way in hell.”

He shook his head and glared when Gareth weakly protested, “He was okay…”

“No, man. My grandmother has more vocal talent than him, and she had a laryngectomy in fifty-five. Let’s hope this last guy is better, or we’ll have to put out more ads.” Eddie climbed up onto the table, sitting cross-legged on it. It had been a long day of auditions, and he wasn’t feeling particularly friendly. He double-checked his clipboard, then called out, “Steve Harrington? Come on out.”

The sound of footsteps echoed through the theatre. Eddie’s spine straightened a little at the figure who appeared from behind the curtain and stepped into the spotlight, his eyes narrowing.

First of all, Steve Harrington was preppy. There was absolutely nothing Corroded Coffin about this dude. He was perfectly coiffed. No piercings, no grease in his hair, no visible tattoos. From his clean white t-shirt to his mom jeans, down to his sporty Nike’s, he couldn’t be less metal if he tried.

Secondly, he was gorgeous. There were no ifs, ands or buts about that. Eddie fought to keep his indifferent, slightly disgruntled expression on his face. Fought harder to keep his heart from beating a little faster.

This was stupid. There was no way this fucking angel-haired, Ken dolled, boy band of a man was going to have their sound.

Eddie’s pen was already poised beside Steve Harrington, about to cross it out.

Then Harrington leaned into the mic, introduced himself with a confidence and swagger reminiscent of Presley, and started singing.

Eddie’s wrist jerked, his pen halting. His eyes widened. Behind him, Gareth and Jeff shared an equally wide-eyed look, Gareth grinning like a loon.

Well, shit.

…So, maybe Eddie was wrong.

#fic #steddie drabble #steddie fic #steddie band au #steddie au #band au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #stranger things #corroded coffin #🎤 #🎸 #singer!steve harrington

[oktobersilver]

☆Shades of Cool.☆

SUMMARY: Y/N has been working as a stagehand for almost two years, as the years went on, a certain type of tension grew between Y/N and the bassist, John Taylor.

this takes place during their current future past tour

current john taylor x reader

CW: smut, praise kink, breeding kink, slight hair pulling, slight dacryphilia, rough sex

Y/N was working backstage making sure all the lights and speakers were properly working, the band was a couple feet over, right beside the stage entrance.

"Have you all checked to see that your instruments were working properly?" Y/N asked, glancing between the members.

Everyone nodded, but John had forgotten to test his bass, Y/N guided him back to where the sound checking was while the band continued talking.

John plugged in his bass, playing a couple warm up strums to test the sound.

"Does it sound alright? I wanted to make sure the tuning was right." Y/N asked, looking up at the taller man, who admittedly, was extremely attractive, even to this day.

John looked down at you, hesitantly parting his lips as if he was about to speak right before he gave you an answer.

"It sounds great as always Y/N, you're really good at stagehand work, y'know that?" John said in an almost teasing tone at the end. Y/N laughed and smiled at the man, god, did he know just how to turn you on? There was already a bunch of tension to begin with that gradually increased during the almost two years of your job, but he never failed to make you feel flushed.

The rest of the band began walking out on stage, Y/N flashed a smile at John before patting his shoulder as he walked out on stage, following the rest of the band.

The crowd's energetic cheers rang throughout the stadium, followed by Simon's greeting and then the booming beat of Roger's drums, the beginning beat for their hit song 'All of You' off of their recent album, 'Future Past'.

The song was written right as you started working as their stagehand, it always made you think of John, you couldn't help but think about him every time it was performed.

You were watching from backstage, standing in the doorway as John would occasionally shift around on stage, smiling without a care in the world, doing what he loved most.

It warmed your heart to see him so happy, you knew he loved music, everyone knew he did.

You snapped out of it when the booming chorus of the song began to echo throughout the building,

"I want everything, all of what you do"

You felt your heart booming in your chest, John looked at you, holding eye contact with you, tensing his gaze.

"every night, every day, I want all of you."

You kept his gaze, crossing one leg over the other as the chorus passed, John got refocused on what he was previously doing, walking across the stage as the end of the song rang out.

You continued watching, cheering and smiling as hard as you could, you were proud of him, you were proud of everyone collectively.

The remaining hours of the show were resumed, the band soon flooded backstage, everyone congratulated each other and shared a few laughs, you congratulated the bunch and soon began walking to the production room to switch the speakers off.

Y/N entered the room, setting your bag down on the available couch in the room, you began switching off the speakers.

You soon heard the door open from across the room, footsteps followed the creaking of the door.

You looked up, John entered the room with a smile, the door closing behind him.

He sat down on the round couch next to your bag, you looked up at him and smiled, "Oh, hey!" Y/N called out to him.

Y/N got up and sat on the corner cushion, facing John as you examined him from a distance.

God, he really was attractive, and the beginning of that performance still kept playing in your head.

"Y'know, you guys did really well, as always, but this was one hell of a way to kick off your new tour." You admitted, John smiled at you and laughed a bit.

"I was hoping it'd be good, we've all been waiting to start this North American tour for a while, I'm glad we finally got to." John exclaimed.

You fidgeted with the ends of your skirt, pacing your sight from his eyes to his lips, you took note of John's notice as his eyes gazed across your entire body.

"John, I know what you were doing on stage."

The man looked at you with a niche expression, flashing you a half smile.

"Oh really? You're just now noticing?" John teased, he knew exactly how to turn you on.

"Not just noticing, but I definitely noticed what you pulled on stage during that song." Y/N admitted,

"You looked really good too, god, you've always looked good." Y/N uttered.

"Hm?" John asked, standing up to sit beside Y/N, Y/N turned to him and subtly bit down on her lip

"I said, you always look good, John. You're attractive y'know that right?" Y/N said, holding eye contact with the taller man.

"You're being bold aren't you, pretty?" John teased. "You have no fucking clue how badly I've needed you, Y/N."

Y/N slid their hand against his hardening cock as he pulled you onto his lap, his mouth found itself trailing down your neck, his teeth grazing your throat all the way to your collarbone, expelling a sharp and breathy moan from your lips.

"John..." Y/N muttered as you fumbled with his belt, tugging it off of him and tossing it to the ground.

You slid down between his legs, unzipping his jeans and pulling them down his long legs, followed by his briefs.

You pulled his cock to your mouth, wrapping your lips around the width of his tip, trailing your tongue down the entire length of John's dick, causing a low groan to come out of his throat.

John threaded his fingers through the roots of your hair as you blew him, his cock filled your entire mouth as you continued sucking him.

John's moan rang through your ears as he pulled your head up by your hair, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

You wrapped your fingers around his cock, holding eye contact with him as you jerked him off, his moans reeked of lust, only turning you on even more.

"Get up here, now." John demanded, you obeyed as you got beside him, John immediately pulled you into a hot and dirty kiss.

You helped him take your shorts off, tossing them to the side as well as your underwear, you took your shirt off along with your bra.

John enveloped you back into a lust-filled kiss, his hand making his way down to your pussy, moving from your clit down to your entrance, resulting in a gasp like moan.

His fingers curled inside your pussy, hitting your sweet spot every time, his lips trailer down to your shoulder and across your collarbone as he agonizingly teased you.

"Fuck me John, please, I need you." Y/N begged, palming at his cock.

"You want me to fuck you that bad princess? You want me to cum in that pretty pussy that badly?" John teased, as he fixed you to the leather sewn couch.

You nodded, he completely took his briefs and trousers off as he lined his cock up with your pussy.

His hips rocked forwards, filling you up completely as you let out a pornographic moan throughout the entire room, you dug your nails into his back as every inch of his cock slammed into you, evoking lewd noises from both of you.

"Fuck.." John groaned, leaning down to you as he marked all across your collarbone, intertwining both of your hands right beside the sides of your head.

His thrusts became rougher after a period of time, you bit down on your lower lip as you reached your head up, kissing him passionately as the two of you were practically panting in each other's mouths, his tongue invaded your mouth, further bringing you closer to your climax.

His pace still remained the same, if not stronger, tears forming at your waterline as your eyeliner ran and smeared down the sides of your face.

"Aren't you being a good girl for me today, hm?" John praised, hitting every single sweet spot, sending you to begin seeing stars.

You grabbed onto the side of the couch, wrapping your legs around him in a desperate attempt to get closer to him.

"You're doing so well for me, sweetheart, you're so beautiful aren't you?" John teased, only adding to your arriving climax

John moaned, his pace got less rhythmic as he began to reach his climax, you could immediately tell as you were close too.

"Cum in me John, please! Fuck me, please John." You cried out, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, passionately kissing him as he released every bit of his climax inside of you, still fucking you as he came.

You came right after, letting out one last raunchy moan.

John looked at you with a lust infused gaze, but also loving, his cum ran out of your pussy, coating your skin.

He cupped the side of your face in his hand, rubbing his thumb along your cheek as he planted a gentle kiss on your lips.

You relished in his touch, he soon got up to get a rag to clean you up, his gentle touch coaxing your skin as if he was unaware of what he just did, he picked your clothes up and helped you get dressed as well as himself before you both headed out the room.

"You have no idea how badly I needed that".

END

#80s #andy taylor #band smut #duran duran #duran duran smut #duran duran x reader #john taylor #john taylor smut #john taylor x reader #nick rhodes #simon le bon #roger taylor #duran duran fic #duran duran fanfic #john taylor x reader smut #john taylor fanfic #band fics #band fic #80s bands #Duran Duran fanfic #sorry for being IA!! #music smut #smut fanfiction #y/n smut #ns/fw breeding #praise #new wave #new romantics #80s new wave

[ghuleh-recs]

their combined powers were too great. he never stood a chance. rip king.

#swissrora double teaming copia fic when #better angle 🤌 #my gifs #my shitty gifs lmao #papa emeritus iv #swiss ghoul #aurora ghoulette #the band ghost #ghost gifs #re imperatour #ghost bc #ghost band #nameless ghouls #papa iv #copia

[lyshasgf]

I need more of the Brozone being SO protective of Branch pls

Someone even look at him the wrong way? His brothers will start throwing hands.

I love this kind of sibling relationship sm, it's so cute.

Branch who would usually fight back but doesn't do it anymore after getting his colours and his brothers who will do the fighting for him!!

When anything bad happens/there's a threat, the Brozone is always infront of Branch to protect/shield him or smt

I've seen a few fics of this idea and it's so adorable 😭

"Why is there blood on you?"

"Remember that guy that insulted you?"

I like to think there's an internal club of just "Protect Baby. Protect. Baby"

(Off-topic but does anyone have good trolls fics recommendations??)

#lyshasgf #trolls band together #trolls #trolls brozone #trolls john dory #trolls jd #trolls clay #trolls bruce #trolls spruce #trolls floyd #trolls branch #john dory #bruce #spruce #clay #floyd #branch #brozone #i LOVE when older siblings are protective of their younger siblings(when it's not toxic obvs) #fic recommendation #please

[ghostbsuter]

Very much inspired by this !!

—

Phantasm crashed into the side of a building, the rest of his team- the TeenTitans- stayed back. They were otherwise occupied, with the rest of the H.I.V.E. five attacking them.

They'd gotten a new member, one with a similar, nearly identical power set of their own new member.

Phantom.

Phantasm and Phantom, two mirror look alikes, they went absolutely feral whenever one was in sight. It was driving Robin mad, Beast Boy had joked about cloning but after they started to actually consider that option.

"Well, well, well." Phantom mocks, glowing green to Phantasm's red.

"Shut. The fuck. Up." Phantasm charges again, throwing the other into windows with a growl.

They kept bickering, hitting and injuring each other, until—

"Stop being so annoying!" Phantasm shouts, baring his fangs. Phantom, in return, stuck his tongue out.

"You're just jealous I got the Villain role!!"

At this point, their respective teams had called a draw and watched them fighting.

"You're a lousy villain!"

"I'm having the time of my life beating the shit out of you actually."

"I'm calling jazz."

At that, Phantom starts glaring. "I thought we agreed on not bringing this up to our sister?"

#dan picked the hero stick #danny the villain #dan now is handicapped as fuck bcs hero role #danny is having the time of his life on the other hand #joined H.I.V.E. and everything #meanwhile dan has to deal with robin hood and hos circus band #he wanted to act solo BUT NOOO #he got recruited #dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #fic prompt #writing prompt #dc x dp prompt #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt

[sixxgurl26]

~Sleazy Sugar ~ 4 - Therapy Time

Masterlist

Pairing: Nikki Sixx x Layla Krane (OC)

Warnings: 18+, language, sexual themes

Word Count: 1.7K+

I’ll be honest, I wasn’t too sure about if I was happy or if I regretted walking out that night at The Whiskey. I had gone straight home, much to the judgmental looks and concerned comments from my parents when they saw what I was dressed in, but I made a case straight to my room, locking myself up to think without any distraction. I knew by the time I had reached home, it was most likely the same time they got off stage and Nikki would of found out I left and I’m sure, he was confused and probably pissed.

Kayla had confirmed this suspicion the next day when she forced herself into my home. Okay, forced is a strong word. My parents love Kayla, so they let her in and there she appeared in my room, with a few of her own words to say.

“So do you want to talk about what happened last night? Because it was kind of a dick move what you pulled. You didn’t even say shit to me other than to say you were sorry.” Her crossed arms in my doorframe bothered me and I gestured to a beanbag in my room. Yes, a beanbag, they are comfortable alright?

“Can you just like, sit? You are making me all nervous standing like that. And close the door, I don’t want them hearing.” She huffed, but she listened as she gently closed it, while seating herself down, arms still crossed. Though while sitting on a beanbag, much less menacing.

“I’m sorry Kay, I don't know what was going on last night. I don’t know what’s been going on at all in me. I just knew I had to leave, but I know that wasn’t the favorable choice.” My words started to trail off, before saying more softly, “What did Nikki say?” She looked up at me from her arms, her eyes softening at me, her arms not so tightly pushed together as they went limp.

“He kind of looked a little sad at first? Like confused, like you had just gone somewhere to get a drink or something. He didn’t say much to me though, he usually doesn’t.” She chuckled, as did I, cutting the tension. “But he did say he thought you would of liked the new songs they have been trying out and working through. I think you would of too, they fucking rocked.” It was quiet for a moment but the sound of her leaning back, her arms reaching to the wall to tap her fingers to brought me back.

“But in “rockstar” fashion, he just flirted with some other girl in the place and snorted some blow sooo… I guess he got over it?” My lips pursed together as I thought and I felt a pang in my chest. Damn, am I really letting this fucker get to me?

“Can I ask you Lay, why are you so against hanging out with us? Like, I get it if you don't wan’t to be with any of the guys, but genuinely, they are so much fun and they attract fun. Plus, they are so funny and Nikki honestly is really funny too, and he’s pretty smart. He’s always writing in this journal of his, probably the lyrics.” Kayla still tapping her fingertips to the wall, spaced out as she talked. I loved that about her, it didn’t take long for her to forget she's mad at me and just relax and go into her own world while still being in your own.

“He writes the lyrics you think?” I asked and she nodded slowly. “Yeah, he does. You really think Vince writes those? Hell no.” At first it was a small giggle, but after a moment we started to laugh loudly, the thought of Vince writing the lyrics made me mad with laughter and after a moment and it died down, I could see why she would enjoy this. I would enjoy making fun of Vince all the time if I was near him. There was no way that blonde man bimbo was writing those lyrics. “You didn’t answer me though.” 

“I mean, I don’t know I just feel like its not my thing. I’d rather be at home reading a book or at a coffee shop rather than a club.” Even as I said it, it felt like a lie, which was weird, because just awhile ago before I ever met them, it would of felt like the most true thing. Now it felt like the idea of fun was becoming the idea of the uncertainty of the night that these four men could bring, but I couldn’t admit something I still didn’t understand. Kayla laughed smugly before sitting up, her hair puffing up with her. “Maybe you can make yourself believe that lie, but you can’t make me believe it. That is such a boring existence like gag, come on. Also that Nikki, he does look fun to me if you know what I mean.” She wiggled her eye brows and I threw my throw pillow at her, her grabbing it instantly with a laugh. “Just admit you’ve thought of it!” She yelled and I instantly shushed her with a finger to my lips, a giggle still coming out though.

“Shut up! They can’t hear you. But do you want to know a secret?” Her eyes widened as she leaned in, waiting. I kept her in anticipation for a few moments, her waving her hands in a circle to speed me up and I sighed with a smile. “The first night we met we fucked.” Her mouth dropped open as she threw the pillow at me, screaming “SHUT UP!” Instantly, I jumped up and covered her mouth with my hand, us laughing as she pulled me to the ground, our vigorous laughs now only filling the room, smiles so wide it hurt our faces and we looked at each other, well she pretty much gawked at me with surprise. “I can’t believe it, I guess you aren’t so prissy after all.” She said. “Yeah well, I’m trying to not let it happen again. Even if I decide to come around again, it’s best if I just stay friends or acquaintances or whatever the hell they are. Like they are fun, I get it, but I can’t get caught up in that. Imagine that.” She moved to her side, picking at the carpet.

“Imagine if they got big though and you got to go along for the ride. You and Nikki, me and Tommy. That would be amazing.” I could practically see the hearts in her eyes and it worried me. She loved so hard and I didn’t know Tommy at all, what was he capable of to her? “I’m so glad you’re having fun Kay, just like, be careful okay? We still don’t really know these guys. And yeah, that would be fun, but that may just be a long shot.” She nodded slowly, not meeting my eyes. She knew I meant well, and I knew she wouldn’t listen, it was the friendship agreement we seemed to have.

“Well, that would be a cool long shot. They are dreamers for sure for trying. Maybe underneath all the fucking, partying, drinking, and snorting whatever they can get their hands on, they are just four people with a dream you know? And like, what’s wrong with that?” Nothing, there was nothing wrong with that. I did like the music and I admired Nikki’s passion for it. It was captivating being around that energy, I couldn’t lie.

“Can we have therapy time?” I asked, crawling up and into my bed. Kayla smiled wide, following me, sitting up in the bed by my head, playing with my hair. For years, we have done what we call “therapy time”. A non judgmental time to work through our thoughts while the other helped and I needed it.

“What are we working through today?” Kayla asked, her fingers pulling my hair causing a sense of relaxation wash over me.

“The times I’ve been around them, especially Nikki, I have felt different than my own self. Like this part of me that likes being a little reckless, not knowing whats going to happen, it feels like a release of control that I’m used to always needing. And I never know what he’s going to do, he is so unpredictable.  And I don’t want them to see the true me, the posh me, because I feel like they would just make fun of me and I want to explore that side of me but I feel like I just feel like, like, wrong?” I waved my fingers in a circle around each other as I talked, trying to talk clearly, but feeling like it was all coming out jumbled.

“Maybe don’t think about it so hard. You’re a control freak Lay, and its gotten you many great things like a great education and a great job, but maybe you need a little unpredictability. Maybe you want to feel not in control for once. And maybe its not that you don't want to show yourself, because maybe, and have you thought of this, you like this clean slate where you can be whoever you want to be.”

‘Whoever you want to be’…. Who do I want to be?

“Hmm…. you really should of been a therapist or a shrink or something.” She chuckled, pulling at my hair as I flicked her giggling. “Yeah but like, I love gossip and I would of gotten fired for telling some patient all the details of my other patients.” I nodded, that sounded about right.

It wasn’t long after Kayla made her exit, citing her need to go home to clean, which probably meant Tommy was coming over to her place, which would make sense if you’ve seen the dumpster, cockroach breeding ground they live in currently.

But long after she was gone, her words still swirled in my mind. Who did I want to be? Who did I like being when no one knew me and had no preconception of me? When no one knows who you are from work or school and have this idea made up of you that you have to be?

Would I still choose to be that girl? Or would I choose to be the one I become when I’m with them.

When I’m with Nikki.

Next Part

#nikki sixx #nikki sixx fanficion #nikki sixx fic #80s band #80s bands #80s bands fic #80s band fanfiction #motley crue #motley crue fic #motley crue fanfictio #nikki sixx imagine #band fics #band fanfiction #bands #rock fic #rock fanfiction

[melusiiine]

i got my grubby little mitts on a commission slot by the magnificent @kabukiaku , the omega3 angst is perfection

#the band ghost #yes i commissioned some fanart for a long-form fic i'm working on #and really isn't that what the renaissance was about anyway #commissioning cool artists for art of one's silly little stories is part of the human condition at this point #a page from the library #the band ghost art