#and like a sap i fall for it every time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peterthepark · 2 years

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𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader x eddie munson

tags: mmf threesome, oral sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, piv, anal, double penetration, dirty talk, dom!eddie, dom!steve, sub!reader, best friends with benefits, mentions of virginity, hair-pulling, breeding kink, throatfucking, squirting, praise and degradation, everyone is horny

summary: back home from school, you recount about your time away in college with steve and eddie, leading to a sexual proposition that you never would’ve expected.

notes: pure filth, forgive me if it is hard to visualize positions… threesomes are very messy and crazy to write! feedback and reblogs appreciated :)

There’s a veering shift in the way they look at you. Maybe it’s because you’ve been gone for so long, so out of the loop, nothing but a modulated grainy voice on the other end of a call line, or a lingering scent in the back of their closets — jasmine, soap, the smell of girl and all things sweet, a tang of Eddie’s favorite green bud.

You want to believe it’s because they’ve missed you, they always do, but it’s different.

The way they each hug you, toned arms locked tightly around your waist, dragging and dragging upwards until it’s slung over your shoulder possessively and Steve’s perfectly-curved nose is in the tangles of your hair.

Ours. Ours. Ours.

You may have been gone for almost a year, but you’re still their girl.

“Look at you, dressin’ all tough and shit now!” Eddie grins proudly, tugging the hem of your skull shirt towards him as he tenderly presses your head to his chest. You nearly stumble on your boots, nothing but a shy smile ghosting the curl of your upper lip as he runs his thumb along your brow bone and you inhale him in with fluttering lashes. “You copying me? Stealing my style, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. His gorgeous best friend. Wiser, older now, prettier — well, you’ve always been pretty, but now, you’ve really grown into your features.

A year, it’s only been a fucking year and yet you still look this good. Better. Knocking the wind out of him, just to breathe it back between his lips.

“You should be flattered,” You shake your head at him, clasping a hand over his shoulder as you gaze over at Steve with admirable regard. There’s emphasis on every word that falls from your taunting smirk as he steps up your front porch. “You should be flattered I chose your clothes over Harrington’s preppy mom-jeans and—“

Then you’re being crushed, wedged between two warm bodies and clashing scents of woodiness and lavender as Steve wraps himself around you.

“You’re talking mad shit about me now, Y/N? All this time, thought I was your favorite — hey, I know that face — I am certain I was your favorite. I was before this one,” He ruffles Eddie’s hair roughly, beaming at either of you. “Came along and practically hypnotized you with his — his rings and his music and his…”

“Shut up and just say you missed me already.” You pull Steve closer to you, his face burying itself in the crook of your neck as Eddie rests his chin on the top of your scalp. It’s a chorus of can’t believe you’re back, crazy you left us in the first place, you’re here, we’re gonna spend so much time together. You can only smile, feeling their love spill out of their respective cups and into yours as you pull them into the house. “Saps.”

Your childhood bedroom of pinks and blues and whites feels exceptionally, jarringly smaller.

Steve and Eddie take up so much space — long legs and big socked feet, sharp jaws and curious eyes as you sit out on the fluffy beige carpet, sifting through the contents of your suitcase as you tell them stories about wild parties, about classes, about your messy roommates and about professors who didn’t know how to teach.

‘Listen, I loved Chicago, but I’ll always love Hawkins.’

‘Hello? The only reason you like Hawkins is because of us.’

‘Still you and your ego, Harrington.’

You don’t tell them about the boys, about the crushes and what kind of antics you got up to in the absence of them. Of them, their protectiveness, their touch, gentle and fleeting and borderline blurring the lines of friendship.

There was an ache for Steve and Eddie — far from platonic, short of romantic, closer to a sexual awakening than anything. The nights where you called, feeling the baritone of their deep snappy voices over the phone as they fought over for a turn, that dreaded dial tone when the line had gone dead and you were left with an emptiness, a twisting heat in your stomach as you replayed their words over and over again before you slept: Miss you. Come home, pretty girl.

You can’t help but wonder what they got up to while you spent nights in the dorms tossing and turning to the thought of either of them. There’s only so many ways you can quietly lull yourself to a blissful sleep in a shared room.

“Mmm, what do we have here?” Eddie breaks up the childish bantering between you and Steve with a curious tone, waving a flimsy stack of polaroids between his forefinger and middle.

No. No. Absolutely not. Not fucking now.

“Okay, Eddie. Maybe not…” Your laugh is frantic and near-alarmed, hands already reaching out for him until he’s gently swatting you away. “… not that one. Hey, no.”

“Cold case, hard evidence of little Y/N’s college escapades?” He quirks a beady brow, tongue wiggling against his front teeth as he winks at Steve and rambles on in amusement. “Do you… do you hear that? Oh, oh! Eddie, pssst, pssst, Eddie… look at me!”

“Give it back, asswipe.”

“Is Y/N guilty or…” He cards through the pictures, lines dimpling around his pursed lips as a wicked grin starts to split his face in half. “Innocent?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Stupid. You should have taken this into account, boys and their lack of respect for privacy, your boys and their habit of sticking their noses where they aren’t fucking supposed to. Eddie and his big greedy mouth, yapping and yapping until he’s dragged good ol’ Steve into his influential mess — you’re trapped between the two brunettes, pleading to Ozzy that they save you from the embarrassment and just move on with their lives.

It’s the worst picture out of the stack. So much for “it’s all about preserving the memory, you know, you’re only young once.”

Memory or not, it was supposed to be for your eyes only.

Not Steve’s. Not Eddie’s.

They stare at a blurry photo of you, very topless and covered in bruising hickies, your smile split into a hearty laugh as a green lime dangles from between your teeth and Some Blond Guy licks up a trail of salt off of the horizon of your pretty tummy.

“Oh, my god.” Steve gapes. “Dude. Body shots?”

“Guys…”

“Don’t guys us, who is this rat-faced son of a bitch that’s practically making out with your stomach?” Eddie’s brows furrow, jealousy dripping from his tone. He’s trying to lead with the playful card, but it’s difficult — difficult when he’s looking at a picture of a guy (who looks like he’s fucking named Brad) basically violating you.

“He’s… a friend. Just a friend.”

Steves laughs unconvinced, “Ah, friend. Guys and girls… they can’t be friends.”

“You’re friends with Robin.” You frown.

“Robin’s gay, you idiot.” Eddie flicks the back of your head.

“Okay, right! Fine! She’s an exception, though.” You scoff. This conversation is unbelievable. “Well, us then? We’re friends.”

Friends. It’s a weird word. People say the l-bomb is horrible, but the f-bomb — friend, not fuck — is absolutely petrifying, numbing, fear-inducing.

It hangs heavily over your heads like something you’re not supposed to say, like forbidden fruit, Adam, Eve, and the serpent. Because the meaning of friends has always been a little strange for the three of you. What are friends?

What are we - what are we - what are we?

You are not friends, you are more, something unreachable, unconventional, something only you and they can understand, you are—

“Best friends.” Eddie corrects, glancing up at you. He pins you with his eyes, even as you suddenly avert your attention down to the pack of Marlboros in your lap like it could serve as a scapegoat, your fingers drumming anxiously against the weathered box. “You know what, I get it. I do. I really do, Y/N. A pretty girl — a woman, like you, has primal urges. And when you’re in college…”

“Eddie… I’m not thirteen.”

“Where sometimes mediocre, average fucking bozos like this Brad-looking fellow come along… bless his heart for even trying, by the way...”

You groan outwardly, fingers fumbling to pinch a cig between your quivering lips. Your voice comes out muffled, sharp and blunt like the end of a knife. “His name is Matt, okay?”

Steve winces, glancing over at Eddie who responds to with a shrug. “Okay, well, Matt is just as bad.”

“Can you guys, like, chill out? Your name is literally Steve.” You avoid their questioning glares, an orange shadow coating the lower half of your jaw. “I just got back and you’re already hounding me.”

A harsh sizzle cuts through the atmosphere as you raise your Bic lighter to your mouth.

You’re defensive. Sensitive.

They hate it. It’s not like you.

“So, what then?” Eddie continues, unable to drop the subject. He wants to pry. He needs to. It’s you. It’s you, so he has to know every detail, even if it leaves you fuming, nostrils flaring at his persistence. “Is he… the college boyfriend? College sweetheart? How about fratboy, porno fantasy? Hot TA that gives your exams a pass every time? You’ve always been ass at math, can’t even tell a full gram from half so I wouldn’t technically be surprised.”

God. Insufferable. But you still thrum under his stare, his pupils imbedding themselves into your skin as you suck your cheeks in and inhale.

Eddie wonders if you remember, if there’s some part of you that thinks back on your graduation night, the way he touched you in that diner, a hand spread over your thigh, your head on his shoulder as Steve rambled about how boring his version of graduation was.

Eddie wonders if you remember the way you inhaled him inside Steve’s garage, knees sinking into the shitty abandoned couch beside the washing machine as you eagerly sucked him off. You were on cloud nine, adrenaline coursing through your veins from the thought of college-college-college, but also when will you ever get to do this again? Do this with someone as perfect and rare as Eddie?

‘Do they have boys like you in college?’

You can still picture the glimmer of his smile. ‘God, I hope not. What a bad influence they would be.’

‘I think I turned out pretty okay so far.’

His rings stuck in your hair, his head thrown back against the furniture, your mouth and the lewd, filthy squelch of his cock burying itself in your throat while you waited for Steve to come back after he had forgotten his wallet at the diner.

‘This doesn’t change anything’, you had told him. ‘We’re always gonna be best friends.’

‘I know, sweetheart. Just needed something to take the edge off, didn’t you? Bet you’ve been working so hard on getting that scholarship, smart girl.’

He fingered you under the graduation gown afterwards.

“Y/N.”

Fuck. “I didn’t — it was nothing. He was nothing. Trust me. Just… I mean, a quick fuck, s’all, I didn’t even…” You chuckle nervously, girlish and unsure and very vulnerable. “… okay, he was fun, but like, I didn’t even cum so… so it doesn’t count. He doesn’t count.”

“You fucked Brad?”

“Matt.” You cringe.

Steve’s voice nearly booms. “You fucked Matt?”

“It’s college!” You cough out, choking on the contents of your cigarette. “People fuck other people all the time.”

“Weren’t you a virgin?”

You were a virgin. Technically. But you were also a virgin when Eddie spread you open on that couch, moaning as he told you how proud he was of you for working so hard.

You were also a virgin when Steve made out with you in the back of a movie theater, where he’d left a gnarly hickey on your left boob for everyone to see — including Eddie, who didn’t even bat an eyelash because he knew, he fucking knew that Steve boyishly wanted you in the same way he did the summer after you graduated, and he supposes that’s why there’s always been an unspoken understanding between the three of you.

‘If you make a sound, we’re gone. Kicked out. Won’t get to finish this awful movie,’ Steve said. ‘You want that?’

Breathless. Eager. Drowsily drunk on your affection.

His lips against your neck, your pulse point, a nibble to your jaw, a hungry tug on your earring. Fucking hell. How soft he was, how gentle, how he touched you with such a special regard and how some sick, jealous part of you thought — were you like this with Nancy? Was it ever like this was Nancy? Part of you wanted to moan. Croak out his name. Make a sound, any sound, so you could get kicked out and have him all to yourself.

You were a virgin when Eddie let you practice a handjob on him in the living room of his uncle’s trailer. You were a virgin when Steve ate you out in his car after finding out you were leaving for Chicago.

You were a virgin.

“I was, but I’m… do you even count that? He didn’t even… he could barely stick it in me at first, Steve, Eds.”

The air feels angry. Tense. It’s suffocating, how they share that look, how they casually train their gazes back on you like you’ve killed someone. “What was he like?”

“Come again?”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull as Eddie steals the cig from your lips, taking a drag before he repeats himself — slower, syllables laced with a darker want.

“I said, what was he like? In bed? You said he could barely stick it in you, so I doubt he was any fucking good.”

“Did he kiss you?” Steve follows on, nodding at Eddie to pass him the Marlboro. It’s so fucking intimate. His lips on the patch where Eddie’s had been, to which, in turn, where yours was. There’s smoke everywhere, even as he speaks, it somehow hits you coldly right on the mouth. “Was he a good kisser?”

Only then do you realize how physically close you are to both of them. You’re stuck, sandwiched between their thighs, their knees knocking against yours as you try to compose yourself. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t awful but it wasn’t good, either. Too much tongue. Too much — not enough… not enough teeth, I guess. You know how I…”

Oh, they know, alright.

You don’t even flinch as Steve leans over and passes the cig back to Eddie. It’s a dance, a fucking taunt as you clench your jaw and curl into yourself under their presence. The longer-haired brunette tosses the dirty polaroid aside, speaking accusingly through a lazy drag.

“Thought you wanted to save it for someone special, sweetheart.”

“I did.”

“No judgement there. Lay it on us, what changed then?”

You shrug, blinking rapidly. “Just wanted to get it over with.” They don’t believe you. It’s clear as day on their faces, the crease between their eyes, the side-twitch of Eddie’s lips and Steve’s nerved running of hands through his hair. “If you wanna call bullshit…”

“Bullshit.” These fuckers. Steve eggs you further, “A real reason, come on, Y/N.”

“Look, you’re gonna make fun of me.”

“Which we always do. Just spill it.”

You can’t hide anything from them. Not them. Not Steve, who’s practically had his handsome face between your legs for hours and not Eddie who’s basically bent you over the hood of his van so he could spread you open with his fingers.

Not your best friends, who you’ve wanted in an insatiable way all your life, even when you had went away, it was always them — just the thought of them — that made you dizzy in all the right headspaces, the callousness of their fingers, their constant gonna-take-care-of-you aura and that implicit agreement between you and the two of them that I’m yours, m’your girl, always going to be.

“I just always thought I’d… lose it to one of you guys, and — I mean, you guys weren’t there and so I just figured I’d be more… fuck, I dunno, desirable? Yeah, just… desirable if I lost it before I came back since you already have so m-much, like, experience and...” You mumble rapidly, losing your tongue amongst your word-vomit of an explanation as you clamber onto your knees and try to stand up. Hot, embarrassed tears blur the cones of your vision. “It’s stupid, really! Like, it doesn’t even matter to me anymore because i-it was such a disappointing experience. Let’s just drop this, okay?”

This has to be a dream. A prank. A delusion. Maybe you’re still in Chicago, blacked-out after a party. Drank too much? Took the wrong weed? Shit, maybe Eddie is right — you don’t know half a gram from a full one.

And before you can shakily rise to two feet, your elbow is tugged back forcefully. Pain shoots up your arm, and you nearly yelp when your ass collides onto your springy twin mattress.

“Uh-uh, you are not getting yourself out of this so easily. If it was oh-so disappointing, tell us what he did wrong and we’ll… we’ll… we can be your fix-it. Think of us as a rebound for, like, the guy you totally should not have fucked. Again, no judgement. Just saying a girl like you should have high standards.”

You should not be turned on right now.

Eddie looks sincere and so pleadingly desperate for an answer that you feel the yearning in his stare. It’s graduation night all over again. The stir of your belly, the squeeze he gives your thigh as he sits beside you, your glance of disbelief at Steve and his return of that hooded-gaze that turns you completely boneless as he joins the two of you on the bed.

“And you meet that standard?” You scoff, a snort following.

His brows rise up his forehead. You’re testing him. “I can meet any standard, sweetheart.”

“And you swear you guys can do better than Matt?”

“You already know we can do better than Matt.” Steve laughs, almost as if you had just said something completely stupid.

Eddie’s fingers trail up your knee, a ghost of a touch. He’s barely even pressing into your skin, but you feel him — his warmth, just inches away, gliding over the little goosebumps on your body, caressing the shaky ball of your knee.

“You know, we talked ‘bout you. Had our own bonding moment, me and Harrington. Jus’ talked about how we’d take you out once you got back, treat you like a real princess after being so studious, talked about how… hm...” He chuckles, pausing to glance up at you while you lose yourself in his beady smile. This fucker. This absolute fucker. “Talked about how generous you are when it comes to friends. Thinkin’ we didn’t know you were practically playing pornstar with the both of us. Doin’ shit behind our backs like you’re a genius.”

Both of us.

Both. You want them both, and suddenly, you don’t feel bad for being unbelievably horny, a fucking mess.

“Listen…”

“Nu-uh. It was smart. You gotta make do with what you have. I’ll give you that.”

Steve whispers, thumbing at the corners of your lip. “Hey. No need to be embarrassed. S’alright that big brain of yours can’t think right now. You just wanna feel good. That whole thing with Matt must’ve been so disappointing.”

Eddie puts out his cigarette on the polaroid, smirking when he cups a large hand around your chin, thumb and pointer finger pressing into your hollow cheeks before he’s tenderly pulling your head to look at him.

There is too much heat. It’s stuffy, and warm, and you can’t really breathe. There’s grimy sweat in the crooks your elbows, the duvet is getting stuck to your skin and you can’t really sit still in the itchy fabric of your sweats because it’s fucking boiling. It’s boiling and you can’t think and you don’t know what the hell is happening, and you want air — not this swirling humidity that wafts under your knees, between your thighs…

“You’re awfully quiet.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Yeah?” His hand dips down your jaw, fingers wrapping around the small girth of your throat. A gentle squeeze. Experimental. Your breath hitches, a stuttering exhale as he tries again, harder, then he’s withdrawing and soothing the roughened area. “Care to share with the class? Unless, it’s inappropriate… then, you might just wanna,” He chuckles, tilting your head back. “… whisper it.”

If this is a black-out, you hope you wake up with a gnarly hangover.

“If that offer still stands, if you guys wanna be my… my rebound or— or fix-it, or whatever the fuck...” This is messy. This is wrong. This is… this isn’t what friends do… but at this point, can you even call yourselves friends? “I’m down to do it.”

“You sure? I mean, you were just a virgin and…”

You snap. “Well, that never stopped either of you before, did it?”

He lunges at you.

Your mouth finds Eddie in the tangle of limbs and bodies. You run your fingers through his unruly hair, feeling yourself relax into the sudden notion as he tilts his chin to slot his lips over yours. It’s brazen, an open letter of lust from you to him saying I want this. I want you to kiss me back. I want this so bad, you don’t even know.

It’s a burning ember of feverish desire as he parts himself open and open, tongues slowly rolling against each other until a moan slips out of you. “You like this? Don’t think it’s weird or anything?”

“M’fine.”

“Tell me to stop — fuck — and I’ll stop.”

“No.”

You can feel Steve pressing against your back, the pads of his fingers digging themselves into your flesh, marking the spots where Eddie’s lips can’t reach as the metalhead dips into your collarbone and sucks. Hard. He leaves you purple and aching, your neck craned as the lighter-haired brunette dips your head back and gazes down at you.

“Christ, she likes that.”

You sigh in bliss, slowly unraveling at the seams.

And oh, your whole body fucking stutters when Eddie dips his hand between your legs, causing you to lurch for Steve’s mouth in order to stifle the whiny gasp of surprise knocked out of you. His palm envelops your jaw. He’s warm. Wet. Lids moony and lips silky with an indiscernible impatience you can’t recognize.

More. Give me more of you.

You jolt as Eddie’s hands carefully push the fabric of your shirt up, his nose nudging against the valley of your breasts before he’s cupping you in a lazy grasp. He mouths at your nipples and he savors it. He thanks you. He thanks you with a twist to one of the hardened buds, soothing the area with his tongue before his teeth climb up the front of your neck and he makes you whimper.

“Fuck, I love how whiny you get.” He hums. “Sensitive little thing, aren’t you? S’just my favorite part about you, Y/N. I’m sure Harrington agrees, seeing as… I’m not the only guy you do this kind of shit with.”

A bite. A bruise. An apologetic kiss even though he’s far from sorry. He’s calling you a slut without even saying it.

And while Eddie traverses his way up to your mouth, Steve dips down to nurse a path all over your back. Your shirt gets lost along the carpet somewhere, your shoulders bare and waiting as he takes your flesh between smiling lips and leaves a glistening trail of wet, open-mouthed pecks on your flexing muscles.

Then Eddie… oh, Eddie, the dirty-minded fucker.

Eddie gives you another hungry kiss, only this time it’s like you haven’t kissed in years. He kisses you like he doesn’t already have you yearning and yearning for more. He bites your bottom lip, drawing a raspy gasp from the back of your throat. His nose smashes against your cheek as he moans into you, the taste of cigarettes lingering on your tongue.

“You’re so pretty. You’re so pretty, baby…” Steve ruts against your tailbone, collecting your hair into a careful fist and tugging until you’re pulled away from your deepening kiss. “You must’ve been so empty back there, aching. I can’t imagine how awful you must’ve felt, Y/N. Were any of those guys even any good to you?”

“No. Not even close — not like you.”

“Mm, shame.”

You don’t take your stare off of Steve at all, scared that if you looked away, scared that even one second would take this away from you. He kisses the sides of your socked feet, grazing his lips over your ankles and clothed calves until you shudder at the close proximity to your core.

Anticipation is coursing through your veins. Your chest is heaving, eyes wide like a baby owl. There’s an unmistakable throb that you recognize between your thighs. Burning you from the inside. Burning you at the stake. Burning you until you’re nothing but ash and a brandished vessel of blooming hickies.

Fucking fuck.

“You hear that? Harrington’s right, bet Matt didn’t even eat you out if he couldn’t even get his cock in.” Eddie grits out unfiltered while you part your legs for Steve, inviting him. You exhale sharply — nuzzling your face into the crook of the metalhead’s neck as he wraps you in his arms. He can feel the soft, warm puffs of breath against his jaw as Steve finally tugs your sweats down. “Your pussy’s tight, Y/N.” A kiss to your belly. A suckle to where your pelvis meets your hip. A brush of tongue against your clothed clit until you jolt upright. “But not that tight.”

You melt. You fucking burst. You don’t fucking know anymore, but either way, it’s a new area of bliss. Eddie can quite literally feel you go rigid in his grasp, sliding deeper and deeper against him until he has no choice but to tuck you under the nook of his elbow and hold you close.

You’re burning, hand clenching around Eddie’s bicep as Steve drags the squishy tip of his nose between your folds through the cotton fabric.

“Pretty cunts like yours deserve to be treasured.”

“Please, Steve…” His brown eyes flicker up to you attentively, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your mound as your hips impatiently stir against the bed. “Fuck — just… just take me right now. Please. Eddie, tell him, please.”

“Oh, sweetheart…” Eddie purrs, palming at your tits teasingly. He blows cool air into your face, brushing away your bangs as his lips hug the shell of your ear. “Thought all your begging would be so much better given what Harrington’s told me. Unless he’s a liar? You wouldn’t call him a liar, would you? Beg Steve to give it to you. Beg him the way you would if it was me down there.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

They are filthy in the fucking head. They have already stripped you of your pride. You may as well just follow. You may as well turn yourself in, play along with them and this fantasy that may or may not be real. Oh, but it has to be real. It has to, when you can feel Steve’s fingers dip past the decorative bow of your panties, shimmying and shimmying until you’re bare and open for him.

You squeeze around nothingness.

“You wanna stop?” Steve runs his palm up your stomach, fingers splayed so unbelievably wide and long across your skin. It makes you lightheaded, a fixation on his smooth digits and reddened knuckles in contrast to his rose-pink complexion. “We can stop right here, whatever you want, whatever feels comfortable, baby.”

He’s being nice. It should make you feel warm inside, giddy even, that given the circumstances, he still regards you in a way that makes you feel nothing short of safe. Comfortable. But that sick, wronged part of you — the side you happen to share with your two best friends — wants him to drop the gentleman act.

Take me, take me like you have all those times before.

Why hold back now?

“I don’t wanna stop.”

Eddie leans over and nips at the tip of your ear. His deep whisper leaves you tingling, almost trembling at how bad you need them in you, on you, just here. “Then beg.”

“I…” You whimper, cheeks growing hot as you feel their eyes study you. “Steve, I just… please? Please, I don’t…”

“You know what? Maybe we shouldn’t.”

“No! No, please fucking touch me.” You gasp shakily, biting your pride back and digging your nails into your calves before you’re spreading your legs farther to satisfy him, entice him. “Please touch me. I need it, need you s-so bad. Steve, please?”

He hums. You aren’t sure if it’s a sound of approval or one of uncertainty, but either way, your pathetic manner of begging does the trick. For now.

And you’re thankful that you’re home alone because the moan that’s ripped right out of your throat is almost animalistic, maybe even concerning, when Steve dips his face between your thighs and finally puts his mouth on your throbbing sex. Your head lolls back into Eddie’s neck, his fingers coming to stroke the strained vein in the column throat as you arch against him and rut against an unmistakable, very-acute pressure on your tailbone.

He’s hard.

Meanwhile, Steve is gently swiping his tongue over your folds, suckling at your clit before he’s dipping the muscle in and out of your fluttering hole.

“That’s it, Harrington.” A deep chuckle erupts from Eddie, his breaths growing deeper with each moan that leaves his companion. “Go to town on her.”

You’re basically panting for air, pulled under as Steve drags a heavy palm down your outer thigh, slapping where it rounds into the shape of your ass. It stings harshly, a burning bloom of irritation before he does it again and it stings even more.

But, fuck, does it feel good.

Steve’s nose presses against your bundle of nerves as he stretches his tongue into you. His expression is pulled into a concentrated scowl, knitted brows and muffled moans while he decides to stroke the pad of his finger against your entrance and gapes at what he discovers.

“You’re so fucking wet right now… Christ.” Agonizingly slow, Steve pushes a digit inside your cunt, curling it so that it hits that spongy desperate part of you that makes you croon and twitch in Eddie’s arms. You nearly gush at the sensation.

“There we go, princess. Mmm, fuck, you take good care of my girl, don’t you, Harrington?”

Eddie is exceptionally fucked and twisted in the head. You think it’s a power play, him enjoying his one-up, best foot forward against Steve because he had you first. My girl. My girl. It’s warranted, valid — wrong in all the right ways — but he’s not lying, because Eddie took the initial bullet that was his desire for you.

“Play nice, Munson. Sharing is caring.”

“Then stop messin’ with her like she’s a plate of mush.”

Quite frankly, you feel like a plate of mush.

It stirs him, competitively pushes the brunette to go harder and before you know it, his fingers are squelching down there. It’s wet, erotically messy, probably would’ve been gross to any other guy but it’s Steve and Eddie, your best friends who happened to be fucking perverts with a soft spot for you, so who cares?

Eddie does not mean to claim you. Especially claiming ownership over someone who, obviously, isn’t his if there’s easily another man inside you. But Eddie knows your body, he knows no other body like yours because it didn’t just stop at graduation night.

Maybe Harrington hasn’t caught on, but you’ve always been Eddie’s first love in all the ways that count. It’s truly unfair.

It’s even more unfair knowing that you’ll always favor Steve over him.

But it’s okay. The bed’s big enough for three.

Your hand grips Steve roughly by the wrist, forcing his hand down the drenched seam of your cunt even more.

“T-there… right there, just… want it hard, and — and fast… don’t need you to be gentle.”

“She’s blushing, Eddie.”

You blubber, eyebrows creasing with confusion as your voice gets caught in your throat and you rasp brokenly in immediate defense, “I don’t blush.”

Steve laughs. Loud. Shocked. Eyes-wide and mocking as he repeats your words under his breath and smirks up at Eddie. I don’t blush.

At this point, you’re just annoyed. “Oh, well, not you, honey.” You yelp in surprise as Steve scissors his thick fingers knuckle-deep, coating his skin in creamy arousal. “I was talking about your pussy.”

Instinctively, your smaller hand darts out to grab Eddie’s thigh, but instead, you’re met with something very hard, very much not his knee nor his leg — but his cock. The silky feeling of it in your hand turns you flustered. His red, heavy balls spill out from the waistband of his haphazardly-tugged boxers pooling below his taut hips.

The barbed-wire tattoo that wraps across his thigh taunts you, the faded bat wings on his abdomen just waiting to be tasted. You salivate at the thought of… fuck, nevermind. You can’t even think straight.

It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, but in the context of all this, it’s a sight that unhinges your jaw and causes you to try to squeeze your legs together — Steve feels the change in pressure around his head, how your thighs press harder against either ear, clenching and clenching till he has no choice but to lap at your cunt till you let go.

“F-Fuck, Steve… I’m… fuck, your mouth, it’s…”

A shared moan from Eddie and yourself cuts your blubbering short as you give his long shaft an experimental tug, running your thumb over his shiny slit till he’s hissing at you.

“Jus’ like that, Y/N.” Eddie groans, a hand coming to stroke the back of your head till he’s grasping the nape of your neck and making you watch yourself stroke his cock. “Shit, sweetheart… see what you — you do to me? God, fuckin’… you fucking slut. Christ… fuck, your hand just feels so… oh, baby.”

His chin tilts back, eyes rolling into his skull as you crudely lick the palm of your hand and reach for his balls, coating him in a glistening film that has you drooling beneath the surface. “Let me make you feel good, please?”

“Yeah? That what you want?” He grits out, sighing as you drag your tongue along the ink on his pelvis.

“Please?”

“Since you begged so nicely,” Eddie hums, leaning back on his elbows as your tiny fist instantly reaches for his heavy cock. He nods at it, dropping his look from your clouded eyes to where his cock rests against his lower stomach. “It’s all yours. Go crazy. You know how I fucking like it.”

Messy. Loud. Disgusting.

Fingers covered in saliva as you pump him in your grasp, massaging the sensitive ridge under his tip with each upward stroke. A squeeze to his shaft everytime Steve pumps his fingers out of you and rubs your clit just the way you need him to. Eddie’s hands wander over your hips, gripping you flush against him until you’re leaning over to take his cock into your mouth.

Stuffed full of Steve’s fingers and stuffed full of Eddie’s dick. What a predicament.

“Shittt…” Eddie hisses as you take him, lips suctioning around the aching head of his dick before you’re dragging your tongue down the velvety, wet base of him. He shudders visibly once again. “Jesus fucking Christ, baby. You’re g-goddamn divine.”

You try to suck him in deeper when Steve adds another finger, his tongue lapping at your needy clit as Eddie instinctively pushes on the back of your head and shoves you further down his cock. He holds you there, mewling at the way saliva and cum dribble down his ruddy shaft, pooling around his balls.

You gag disgustingly loud, retaliating with a heavy swat to his arm before you realize your own orgasm is approaching hard and fast once he finally lets off and gives you air.

“Fuck. Fuck. Steve, b-babe… I’m — oh, shit… m’gonna cum if you keep…”

“If I keep doing this?”

You sob into Eddie’s neck as Steve scissors his fingers in and out of you, the naughty squelch of your cunt overpowering the white noise of your childhood bedroom. It’s lewd, how your knuckles glisten with Eddie’s thick pre-cum, Steve’s fingers serving as a direct mirror to that when you find release and gush around him.

“Fuck, Y/N! That’s hot. That’s really fucking hot. Shit, I just made you squirt.” He exhales shakily, a shy laugh falling at the end of his ramblings. “Always wanted to do that. S’just so sexy when you do it — fuck — I wanna watch you do it again.”

Steve’s cock throbs intensely beneath you as you christen his mouth with your arousal, his jaw wet and chin shiny as he languidly moves his mouth side to side against your clit.

“O-Oh, god… s’too… m’too sensitive, I… Steve…”

Like a starving man, his strong hands keep you pinned down when he wraps them around your hips, feeling for your ass and spreading you wide while you soak his face.

“Whose cock do you want inside you first, sweetheart?” Eddie rasps, his free hand resting over yours as he drags it up your ribs, the swell of your breasts, brushing over your hardened nipples before he brings it back down to your stomach. Stroking and stroking, teasing you as your other best friend peppers the insides of your thighs with gentle kisses. “Thinking about how tight you probably are right now, even if Steve fucked you open with his fingers, I bet that little cunt of yours is still just as tight as that night in the garage, yeah? Yeah, it is.” He chuckles, drawing hearts on your hip bone. “Are you gonna let me fuck it? In front of Harrington? Let him watch me stick my cock inside it for the first time? Let him watch the way your eyes just… droop all sleepy and fucked-out when I cum in you?”

Steve laughs, smiling to himself as he wipes the slick from his mouth, collecting it with the pad of his fingers before he’s wiggling the digits in front of Eddie’s mouth.

“Taste her,” He says without shame, eyes moony and half-lidded as Eddie slowly wraps his lips around them. Eyes locked on Steve’s, he fucking moans at the flavor of you. “Sweet, isn’t she?”

He releases him with a pop, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Oh, she’s the sweetest.” He drawls, tongue darting out to lick the space between Steve’s fingers. “You wanna watch me fuck her now, Harrington? Promise you can stick it in her pussy later.” Eddie’s hand cups your jaw, lolling your head back against his shoulder so he can smirk down at you. His doe-eyes swirl with some sick form of tenderness, and the crude denotation of his next words almost fly right over your head when his gaze flickers back up to Steve. “As long as I get her ass.”

A gasp rips out of you when Eddie pulls you up by your underarms, your tender cheek falling against the mattress while Steve lingers at the foot of the bed, arm propped up against the post — where he stands now fully nude.

Your eyes shamelessly rake over his length, admiring the groomed bush of hair around his base, his athletic frame, the girth of his arms. He pumps his cock in front of you, your attention fully directed to him as Eddie undresses himself behind you.

“Staring is rude, y’know.” Steve quips, breathless as he runs his thumb over his meaty tip with a cocky grin. He nods down at his prick, the shaft darker than the rest of him. “You think you can take it, babe?”

“I… I think so. It’s — you’re just so…”

“Big?”

“Perfect.” You gulp out, palm coming up from the mattress to reach for him. “You’re just perfect, Stevie.”

And you swear that Steve blushes. His cheeks tinge pink, freckles prominent on the bridge of his nose as a faint smile lingers across his pillowy lips. But before you can even let your nails excitedly skim across his abdomen, Eddie yanks you back by your hips, ass arched up into the air as he pries your legs apart with his knee.

The action takes you by surprise, your neck twisting to look helplessly over your shoulder up at Eddie. “What are you—“

He leans over you, caging your body with his. You gag when he shoves his fingers past your lips, clutching at his wrist while Steve’s darkened eyes meet his. “Spit.”

Fuck. Okay.

Maybe you really should’ve been patient and lost your virginity to one of them when you got back.

Eddie pulls away; strings of saliva connect to his palm, to which he uses as makeshift lube for his ruddy cock. You study the way he languidly spreads the thick glob up and down his dick, the filthy wet squelch of it causing heat to pool into your belly.

You jolt when you feel his fingers skim over your entrance. “E-Eds…”

The aftershocks of your previous orgasm still linger, evident due to the tremble of your thighs and the deep furrow in your brow as you take a moment to brace yourself.

“Sensitive, sweetheart?” Eddie’s curious voice crackles, the tip of his finger dragging along the backsides of your thighs, tracing the curve of your ass. “S’okay, Y/N. I’ll go slow. At first.” He quips, sincerity and amusement dripping from his tone all at once. His mouth dips down, kissing the planes of your shoulders, your spine, the dip of your tailbone. “Don’t get in your head about it. I’m gonna take care of you.” Eddie whispers, taking his cock into his fist and running the tip along your cunt. You choke on a moan, feeling him slowly split you open. “I a-always take care of you, don’t I? Fuck. Fuck. Shit, you’re — Y/N, baby, you’re already… already squeezin’ me, fuck. S’okay. Fuck. It’s okay. K-Keep clenching my dick like that and this’ll be over so… fast.”

“Eddie!”

You make a move to look at him, but Steve’s hand finds your jaw, pulling your gaze back. “Eyes on me. Tell me how it feels.”

“It’s…” You clutch at the sheets, syllables lost on your tongue as you mewl scandalously. “I can feel his cock s-stretching me out. M’just… just so wet for him.” You sob as Eddie bottoms out, his balls grazing against your clit. His lips meet the crook of your shoulder as he stills inside you. “So wet for it. Please. Please. Fuck, I need… need more. Need, oh, to m-move.” The sheets wrinkle beneath you as Eddie’s hips roll back, his cock slamming into you in deep, agonizing thrusts. “Oh, yes… yes, just like that…”

“Christ, Harrington.” Eddie lets out a grunt, thrusting in and out of you. He watches the way your folds grip around him, asshole puckering as he thumbs at it. “She’s… Jesus Christ, she feels amazing. You hear that? Shit, that’s just her pussy. Makin’ all those wet sounds like a goddamn – fuck – like she’s a little cocksleeve. Fuck yes, but you’re the real thing, a-aren’t you, sweetheart? God, I could jus’ live in your pretty cunt.” He rambles, a harsh spank landing on either of your ass cheeks.

“Fuck, Eddie!”

“I love this pretty pussy. Fuck. I fucking love it — so good. M-Mindblowingly good. Jus’ got me m-melting inside you. Fuck, Y/N. How am I ever supposed to go without this cunt? S’fucking dream, that’s it. You’re a fucking dream.”

Steve’s head falls against the intricate bedpost, face scrunched up into pleasure and agony just watching Eddie spear his cock into you. You fall further into the mattress, sweat beading off of your brow as you take in the sight of Steve’s cock dripping with pre-cum. His balls hang heavily between his thick thighs, his abs rippling under the orange glow of your lampshade.

Each stroke leaves Eddie’s creamy shaft glistening and wet, your arousal sticking to his skin and the bush of hair at the base of him as he fucks you deeply. A fist tangled in your hair, the other glued to your shoulder, his mouth pulled into a lewd ‘O’ that mirrors Steve’s handsome expression of bliss.

You whimper, eyes welling up with tears, “I’m gonna… oh, fuck, baby… m’gonna c-cum.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum on this cock?” Eddie snarls, hips quickly snapping into you. “Shit, shit, shit. Fuck, I can feel you tensing up for me. Yes, cum on it, sweetheart. S’okay, you can cum for us. Do it, Y/N.”

“So good. So — I’m cumming!”

Your whole body goes boneless against the longer-haired brunette, his arm generously scooping you up from under so that he can pull you flush against his chest. Your tits heave with every tremble of your thighs. Your cunt convulses around Eddie’s shaft, milking him as he keeps your hips firmly planted in place against his skin.

“Oh, honey. Yeah, that’s it.” Steve coos with a sweet chuckle, reaching over to cradle your face in his hands. “Came a little hard, huh? You did so well. Look at you, still so fucking hot.” He chuckles, brushing the hair away from your face and kissing your forehead. “Atta girl. Cumming on her best friend’s cock.” His thumbs prod at your bottom lip. “Who woulda thought?”

“Christ, Steve. She’s even — even tighter.”

“Yeah? Think it’ll fit?” Steve pouts, pumping himself as Eddie pulls out of you.

“Mmm, maybe. Maybe not. Can always butter you up some more, Y/N. Make sure there’s enough room for Harrington.” He snickers, “I call him big boy for a reason.”

You can only whine, too fucked-out from your orgasm to even properly respond.

Fuck. Really, that’s the only word on your mind right now.

“Hey, you with us?”

“Just…” You laugh, cut off by your own wince. “Fucking hell, just gimme a sec.”

Steve raises a brow at his friend, studying the way you roll back onto the bed, back arched against the sheets as you stretch your arms over your head and look dreamily up at him. “That good, huh?” You nod, biting your lip as he crawls onto the bed, “You think I can do better?”

A boost of confidence surges through you, the words leaving your lips airily and teasingly.

“Dunno. How about you show me, King Steve?”

“You’re gonna absolutely kill me, you know that?” The freckled brunette whispers, mouthing up your thighs before he’s rolling you on top of him, tucking your hair behind your ears as Eddie comes to kneel behind you, kissing the nape of your neck. “Calling me King Steve like it doesn’t turn you on when you say it,” He chuckles, rubbing up your thighs. “You rode Brad’s cock?”

“No. And his name… is Matt,” You grin, splaying your palms over his chest. “Play nice, tiger.”

“This is nice.” You guide him into your entrance, moaning as you sink down past his tip, the head of him catching on the swell of your clit. Steve’s head falls back against the bed, plump lips parting with a sigh as you take him to the hilt. “God, but this cunt is even nicer — shit, Munson, you weren’t lying.”

“Fuck, Steve. It’s… fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh, my god.” His thick cock spreads your folds open, the pink tint of his cock turning slick with your cum as you shakily pull yourself up and down his length. “Feels so good. Oh, your — please…”

Eddie’s arm wraps around your hips, his finger coming to circle your clit while his free hand spreads your ass apart, his dick nudging against your tight hole. “Do you trust me?”

Your jaw lolls back against Eddie’s shoulder, eyes fluttering in pleasure as Steve meets your thrusts. “Y-Yes, please. Just — fuck, need both of you. Need it inside m-me. Put it in, Eds. Please, put it in.” You beg tearily, resting your hand against his taut stomach.

“I’ll go slow.” He whispers, kissing your cheek before taking a hold of your neck. “So slow, you won’t even know I’m here. Jus’ focus on the way Harrington breeds that cunt, yeah? Guy fucking loves that shit. You tell me to stop — you tell either of us to stop and we will, understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good girl. You have lube for me?”

Your jaw falls open as Eddie slips a finger into your ass, the ring of muscle sucking the digit deeper and deeper inside as you fuck yourself on Steve.

“In my — my luggage.”

“Tsk tsk, naughty.”

You lose yourself in the tangle of limbs and shifting of blankets, your knees knocking against the mattress as Eddie finds his way back to the pair of you.

“Can’t believe you — you’re riding me right now. Holy shit, you look so… so beautiful.” Steve gasps out between wet strokes, worshipping your body with an open mouth, “Do you know how long I’ve been wanting this? Wanting to be inside you? Oh, and I get this pussy all to myself?

“I’ve always — fuck — always wanted to know how big you are. How it feels to be… to be filled up with my two favorite people in the world — oh, harder.” You growl, feeling a cool liquid squirt down your skin. The lube is warm, slippery as Eddie drenches everything in it, the sloppy squelch of his fingers working into your ass are enough to make your face heat up and hide in Steve’s shoulder. “Harder.”

“You really want this?” Eddie rasps, scissoring them in and out. “You think your virgin ass can take me? I think you need more time, baby. Gotta ease you into it.”

You reach around you to grasp his cock in your hand, panting against him while Steve continues to fuck the slick channel of your cunt. It’s devastating, how he hits every part of you, the crude squelch of it all, how Eddie grips and grips at your ass till you’re basically laying over Steve’s chest.

“I want it.”

“Breathe, then.”

It feels like hours before Eddie really does anything, just the cruel fingering of your ass accompanied by the pounding of Steve’s cock into you. Then eventually, there’s the sliminess of the lube, the glistening of two well-endowed ruddy cocks, happy trails and velvet skin slowly being swallowed by your cunt and ass.

The first few moments of Eddie’s tantalizing press of his cock against your puckering hole is enough to have you jolting forward in Steve’s arms, a comforting shush lulling you to a calm as the boys kiss down your body — worshipping you, soothing you, enticing you.

“Oh, my god!”

It’s… it’s too fucking much. The titillating burn of it. The building pressure. You feel like you’re being pulled under and under, endlessly being filled up by him until he’s drawing his hips back and pushing into you all over again.

“Relax, Y/N. You gotta relax, or I can’t — fuck, I won’t be able to take care of you.” Eddie kisses along the slope of your shoulder, his inked thighs entangling with Steve’s bare ones as he leans over your backside. “Okay?”

You nod and exhale sharply, letting yourself become mush between Steve and Eddie’s bodies as he drives into you from behind, using your ass the same way he had used your sopping cunt. Their cocks drive into you, bone mashing against bone, skin slapping against skin, warmth oozing out of you until you feel like you’re on fire.

“Does it feel good, honey?” Steve grunts from beneath you. The look on his face nearly makes you cum — hair tousled, eyes half shut as he groans deeply. His aching arms ripple, holding you against his chest as Eddie sloppily ruts into you from behind. “You want us to go faster? Make you squirt over both of our cocks? Fuck, taking it in the ass makes you so tight.”

You lose yourself in Eddie’s kisses, the way he drags his lips across your jaw and down your bruised neck, the way Steve sits up to toy with the peak of your breasts, his tongue swiping over the sensitive nubs.

Numb. Boneless. You can’t think.

“Think she’s gonna cum, Harrington. Just look at her.”

Steve cooes, flicking his finger over your swollen clit.

“You gonna cum, princess?” You gasp loudly as Eddie draws his hand across your ass, spanking you brutally until your face is buried in Steve’s collarbones. “Fuck, Eddie’s right… this cunt is — fuck — such a dream. Shit, you’re close. Think I’m gonna cum, t-too. M’gonna fill y-you up, Y/N. Fuck...”

“Yeah? Gonna breed my pussy?”

“Oh, that nasty mouth.”

“I want you to cum inside, Steve.”

“Fuck!” His warm seed fills you up quickly, shooting right against your walls as his hips snap into you over and over again. Relentless. Unforgiving. Your cunt fluttering and leaking with his own spill as Steve just fucking stares and watches you become one with him. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, princess. It’s — oh, you’re… m-milking me. Oh, shit. Shit!”

They’re both balls deep inside you and yet all you can think about is how you’re one-hundred percent never walking again after all of this is over.

Your own brain melts before you can even get a word out, turning you into a broken record of strangled moans and incoherent begging.

Princess, you like it when Eddie fucks your ass, don’t you?

Just wait till you give Harrington a turn.

You’re gorgeous like this, letting us stretch your little holes out just ‘cause we’re best friends — god — you dirty, wet girl. I’m never getting enough.

So pretty. So fucking p-pretty.

You cum instantly, your orgasm sneaking up on you from behind and swallowing you whole. Your release has you convulsing shamelessly in the boys’ arms, your mouth claimed by each of theirs as you switch between Steve and Eddie, then Steve again, and Eddie once more until your body refuses to recognize whose skin is whose and who tastes like what.

“Christ,” Eddie grits out. “Christ, your cunt is — you’re strangling my cock, baby. Baby. Oh, fuck, baby.”

Everything comes in a rush. Words lose their meaning, their formation and elegance (if you could even call dirty talk elegant) as Eddie’s ramblings get strung together and Steve’s hands roughly find solace on your thighs. The warm bloom in your ass almost makes you cum again, and you moan wantonly as Eddie jerks and vibrates against you.

You wince when they pull out at nearly the same time — almost as if they had coordinated it — and you wince when you feel their spend trickle down your thighs.

Your cunt clenches around nothingness as you sputter with their cum, your asshole puckering against Eddie’s face while he watches you gape between his hands. You whine when his finger prods at you, a hiss leaving your lips when he eats the cum from both of your holes.

Then, he slurps. Loud.

Definitely going to hell.

“Fuck.” You let out a breathy chuckle, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes to stop seeing the fucking stars that keep pulsing in your vision.

Unable to support yourself, you lazily collapse between the lanky bodies of Steve and Eddie, long limbs tangling with yours.

Steve kisses your temple, nuzzling his face under your chin. “Better than Brad?”

Silly boy.

You laugh again, harder this time, almost forgetting how sore your lower muscles are when Steve presses the curve of your nose against your neck and Eddie casually slings an arm over your stomach like he hadn’t just fucked your ass. “Better than Brad.”

“Thought his name was Matt.” Eddie huffs, tracing the blossoming hickey on your hip.

You glance at either of them, bringing your hands up to stroke their flushed cheeks before you’re giving them a gentle peck on the buttons of their noses. “I could give less of a fuck about Matt.”

“Good.”

“Can we please go get dinner now? You know, to celebrate my return and everything.”

Steve and Eddie collectively groan, burying themselves closer against you with sleepy eyes and sweaty skin.

“Just a little longer.”

“Eddie…”

“Meh.”

“Steve…”

“Nope.”

Theirs. Theirs. Theirs.

And it’s then — between your best friends’ naked and warm bodies, freckled skin and D&D-themed tattoos, soft long hair and thick romantic curls, moles and scars, the sun on your left and the moon on your right, the lingering kiss to your shoulder and the swirling fingers on your thigh — that you realize that maybe, they missed you more than you missed them.

And that maybe, you’re okay with this strange, insatiable dynamic of friendship. If you can even call it that.

After all, what are best friends for?

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #steddie x reader #steddie x you #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

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sunflowersteves · 10 months

Note

can you write about carmy getting his first blowjob????

the way I crave this man is insane 😩 of course I can, hun

pairing || carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings || fluff, established relationship, reader has manicured nails, SMUT, blowjob, mention of eating out, praise kink, 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

masterlist

It was way past closing time at the restaurant. All of the other employees had left, finishing their duties, while Richie was furiously cleaning the floors. His arm felt like it was about to fall off as he scrubbed the dirty tile.

Carmen, on the other hand, was chopping vegetables. His hand moved fast across the cutting board, making thumping sounds as the knife sliced each carrot.

Richie scoffed. “Do you seriously need to do this right now, cousin?”

Carmen didn’t even blink. He just continued to chop up the remaining vegetables, with all of his focus on cooking. After putting the carrots into the pot, he starts to finely dice a red onion.

“Yes, cousin. I just—I just need to perfect this recipe, and then we’re good.”

Richie rolled his eyes but still scrubbed. “You’re such a jagoff.”

Carmen had a habit of trying to perfect every single recipe thrown his way. When he tasted the soup earlier, his nose scrunched up. Something about it just felt off—and it was driving him insane. It tasted too salty and too acidic. He needed to figure out how to make it better.

He turned to the boiling pot of chicken stock and gently placed the onion slices into the stew. “Yo, cousin. I got it. Go home.” He didn’t even wait for an answer as he expertly sliced into a tomato.

Richie stood up from the ground. “Sure. Just don’t make your girl wait too long.”

For the first time in their conversation, Carmen looked over at him. There was even a small smile on his lips. “Never. Not to her.”

Richie half-smiled. “Alright, you fuckin’ sap. I’m leaving.” On the inside, Richie was beaming. He couldn’t get over how happy you make Carmen—hell, how happy you make the whole kitchen. Your presence was entirely needed in a place like this.

He knocked twice on the office door and announced his leave to you. You opened the door with a wide grin and bid him goodnight. “Don’t forget to tell Eva about the tickets!” You called out as Richie walked out the door.

Richie was practically glowing at the mention of his daughter. “Thank you for finding amazing seats, by the way, sweetheart! You’re a fucking lifesaver!” With that, Richie was out of sight as the door closed on him.

Carmen’s eyes flickered up at the sound of your voice. His head swiveled around to see you already staring at him. Your body leaned over the office door frame—pretty manicured nails sparkling against the contrasted white of the walls.

“Hi, baby.” He says.

“Hi, Carm.” You say back, smiling.

He puts the sharp knife down and wipes his hand on the towel that was over his shoulder. You walk over to him in the kitchen, and he relishes the proximity of your presence. Your fingers trace the outline of his bicep, and a shiver crawls up his spine. Your hand settles onto his shoulder, and you give a small squeeze.

Your relationship was fairly new. It would officially be three months tomorrow, to be exact. It had gone by pretty fast if he was being honest, but it just felt so good being with you. Despite the newly founded relationship, Carmen couldn’t get over how much you truly mean to him.

You were everything from the late Sunday mornings of snuggling under the sheets to the crazy late nights of telling stories out in the front house of the restaurant. To make matters worse, you got along so well with all of the staff at The Bear. You calmed him down when everything seemed to be directly opposing him. You were always there to press a finger to his chin and a kiss on his cheek. He swore his heart palpitated against his chest every time he thought about you.

“Can I taste?”

He nodded, grabbing a small spoon and dipping it into the soup. His hand hovered under the bottom so it wouldn’t spill. “Open your mouth, baby.”

You did as he said and let your jaw slack open. He places the spoon into your mouth, and you let the delicious, salty soup slide down your throat.

You moan against the spoon. “Holy fuck, Carm.” His eyes never left your face in an attempt to understand your reaction. “That was the best thing I have ever tasted.”

He finally smiles. He felt like he was glowing. “You say that every time I ask you to try something.”

You slid your hand down his chest, feeling the imprint of the chain that rests under his uniform. “And I mean it every fucking time.” His heart buzzed against his chest. His mind felt hazy. He wrapped an arm around your waist and squeezed the soft, plush flesh. His bright eyes were so intense—so full of affection—that it was starting to make you feel hot.

“You wanna taste it too?” You asked innocently.

He nodded and reached for another clean spoon. You smiled wide at the idea of him getting a sparkling clean spoon. He was quickly derailed by the way your lips crashed onto his. He let out a surprised groan, his eyes fluttering close.

You moved in sync until you pushed your tongue into his mouth and tasted the sweet essence of him. He tasted the chicken and onions from the delectable, tasty soup. It was much better than what he had tasted earlier. “Fuck—” He murmured in between the deep kisses. You bubbled out a laugh, but his hand stayed firm on your waist. He didn't want to end the way he felt when your lips graced his own.

You pull apart after the desperation of air becomes too much. You almost laugh again at the sight of his swollen lips and pretty pink cheeks. “See? Taste’s good, doesn’t it?”

A small smirk caressed his lips, but the flustered look was still there. “It tastes very good, sweet girl.”

The nickname prickled goosebumps onto your arms. He has called you that since your third date, but it never ceases to make your heart flutter. He knows it too.

You both start to gravitate toward each other once more. This time the kiss was more intense, with more teeth clashing and attempting to bruise each other’s lips.

“Carmy.” You whine. He growled into you in response and pressed another searing kiss onto your mouth. His hands grip your waist even tighter as if to pull you in even more. A moan slipped from the back of your throat.

Your hands move to the plains of his chest before pushing the two of you apart. His eyebrows furrow as you completely pull away from his embrace. Did he hurt you? It was all he could think. He didn’t want to fuck this up. No, he can’t fuck this up.

“Baby?” He whispers, sounding uncertain.

You don’t say a thing as you sink your knees to the ground, causing Carmen to gasp. His eyes were wide as his stare intensified. “F-Fuck.” His mouth bobs open and closed, trying to find some other words, but all he does is whisper your name.

Your hands moved up and down his thighs. The fabric of his chef uniform was soft against your palms. “Can I take care of you, Carmy?”

Oh, fuck. Your voice sounded so sweet—so thick and kind against his ears. He could feel his cock throb at the anticipation of your touch.

You wait for his answer, still gently rubbing his thighs back and forth. He felt like he was on fire. Nerves crash over him, though. His heart starts to speed up at the anxiety that prickles his skin. He had never done this before.

It wasn’t that the opportunity didn’t arise because it did. You asked many times if he wanted a blowjob, but all he wanted was to lick into your folds again. It was like his mind was drunk off of the sweet, tangy nectar, and he wasn't about to let go. He needed you more and more. He discovered he was much more of a giver.

Normally, he takes his sweet time with you. The first time he had ever tasted anyone was you. He always asks—that desperation in his voice. “Can I taste you? Please? F-Fuck, I see you dripping. Oh—Please?” Once he got confirmation, he would spread your legs and dip his tongue into your sweet folds. He could eat you out for hours—and he has.

He would groan against you as his tongue pushed through your folds. You tasted tangy and sour—so sweet to his taste buds, making his hands grip an indent into your flesh. The whimpers and whines that you let out are music to his ears, and he wishes the sounds were burned onto his soul. His eyes would always be latched onto yours, refusing to break the intense contact. He could fucking live in your pussy.

He couldn’t say no to you, though, could he? His cock was about ready to start leaking pre-cum. Your eyes looked so dilated and large with lust that he couldn't resist.

“F-fuck, okay. Yeah, baby. J-just—” He breaks out into a moan from your eager hands. They pushed down his pants, pooling around his ankles almost in an instant.

“Wait-wait—”

You stop immediately and let go of his thighs. Some concern is etched across your face, and it makes his heart skip a beat.

“I just—I just want you to know that I’ve never done this before. I don’t—” He gulps. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

You almost let out a gasp. It was his first blowjob that you were going to give him, and he was worried about you. His eyebrows are furrowed and he's huffing out a breath. He just didn't want you to feel like you have to do something like this.

“Oh, Carmy, baby, I’m not uncomfortable at all. I’ve been wanting to do this to you for so long, but you kind of get distracted.” There was that implication that he knew about so well. A blush kissed the tip of his ears.

“You sure, baby? I’m not-I’m not forcing you?”

You wanted to know who hurt this man. His anxiety about making you feel comfortable was always through the roof. You grabbed his clenched hand and opened his palm. You pressed a sweet kiss. “No, baby. You’re not forcing me.”

He visibly relaxes his shoulders. “Okay.” He breathes out. “Okay.”

You avert your attention back to his thighs—and what’s between them. He could practically see your mouth water at the bulge that protruded out from his boxers. Carmen had always been big. No one had ever told him that before, in the late kind-of drunken night stands that he had. When you first had sex at his apartment and could really take a peek at his weeping cock, your eyes widened drastically.

You knew he was big, but goddamn, he is big.

“Can I, handsome?”

You looked up at him with a cute smile. The nickname caused his heart to stutter—his cheeks deepening the shade of red. "Yeah, baby." He says. Then he whispers, “Please.”

You dragged his boxers down his thighs, and they pooled right on top of his slacks. His cock sprung up from the force—already more than half hard and aching. His eyes can’t seem to stare at anything else but you. You looked so eager—so excited—to have his dick right in front of your face. It made his stomach flip.

Your hand curls around the base, and he sucks in a breath. Your fingers just barely wrapped around the entirety of his length. Your manicured nails dug slightly into the large vein on the side—it made him choke on his own spit.

“So fuckin’ big, Carmy.” You whined. You started to pump, it was a small motion, but it still made him moan. It sounded so desperate, making your ears ring. You couldn’t wait any longer, mouth watering at the sight of pre-cum already sprouting from his tip.

You kissed the tip of his cock, and he shivered. “F-Fuck, baby—” He moans. He could feel his whole body throbbing—aching at the way you made him feel.

You swirl your tongue around the ruddy tip and continue to tease him, wrapping your lips around the sensitive area. His hand immediately goes to the back of your head, unable to help himself. “Oh, fuck, holy shit—your fucking mouth, shit—”

His knees wobbled, the other hand steadying himself on the kitchen counter. “Y’taste so good, Carmy.” Your words were slurred with lust, making his own eyes dilate. His heart palpitated at you loving this—the insecurities from earlier disappearing like water down a drain.

You start to take him even further. Your lips slowly ease down his cock, and one of your hands, still wrapped around the shaft, gave a squeeze. He choked on nothing and watched how you hollow your cheeks. You’re only halfway, but he swears he is seeing stars. “Feels so good, baby—so fucking good.” He squeezes his hand.

Pride blooms within you, as well as the praises from him making you clench around nothing. You wanted to start touching yourself, but the intense desperation to keep a hand on his cock was greater. You choked a little as his hips unconsciously gave a small thrust. It made him let out a loud moan.

He’s not sure where the confidence came from, but it’s spewing out of his mouth before he can stop it. “Fucking—shit—can you take all of it, sweet girl? Hmm?”

He licks his lips. “Can you t-take my whole cock in your mouth?” He lets out a huff of air as you moan around his cock. “Be–be my good girl, yeah?”

The only confirmation you can give is the way your eyes gloss over. Tears threaten to poke out from your eyes, and the sight makes Carmen let out a curse. You slowly, yet again, take more of him in your mouth.

“F-fuck,” he drags out. “Good girl—good fuckin’ girl. That’s it.” His knees wobble again, but he stays steady. Pure bliss sprouts in his stomach as he can feel the hot, searing pleasure from your wet mouth.

You were able to fully take him—nose brushing up against the hair on his pubic bone. He groans and whimpers at the sight of you breathing deeply with his cock shoved down your throat. “Shit–shit–fuck, baby. That’s my pretty girl. Look–look at you choking on my cock. Holy shit—” He whined out.

Warmth spreads through your chest at the adoration and lust that flows through his eyes. He can’t stop staring at the way you are just barely able to take him whole. His eyes widened even more as he watched you shove your hand down your shorts.

“Oh, baby—” he says in a coo. “Look so good like that, huh? Fuckin’ touching yourself.” You could feel the way his cock twitches in his mouth. God, where was this coming from? He thought. Something about how your eyes sprung with more tears and you desperately humping your hand for some release was making him insane.

He thrusts in and out of you, fucking up into your throat. You gagged around the girth of his cock and garbled out a cry. He moaned and whined at the feeling of your throat constricting against his cock and listened to the wet sounds of it all.

“Gonna–gonna cum, baby.” He swore that he saw your eyes sparkle—as if you wanted it all down your throat. He could feel that familiar swirl of an organism puncturing his chest. He panted as he watched the way his cock disappeared into your throat—it was a fucking sight.

His eyes suddenly turn nervous. “Can-can I cum down your throat? Please?” He sees the way you nod with your mouth full, but he sees it. He sees the raw want and needs that fills your eyes. Yeah, you wanted his cum. You needed his cum.

“Shitshitshit—” He stammers, thrusting into you two, three times. He groans out, low and guttural, as his seed spills into the back of your throat. He moans out your name in between shaken breaths from the ropes flowing through your mouth—salty and sour. He continues to pump into you, and you swallow every single drop—the added friction of your throat making him whimper.

His hips still, but his cock stays inside of your mouth, twitching in pleasure. You hum around the base and watch as his body almost writhes. He looks down at you with the most content and relaxed smile you had seen.

You slowly pulled your mouth off of him; the pop noise was small. You started to press sweet kisses to his thighs, his hand going back to rest on your head. “Feel good, bear?”

His eyes were shining. “Felt so good, baby. Y’did so well.” Now his words were slurred with lust. He just couldn’t help but let his whole world revolve around you for a moment.

You gently put on his boxers and do the same to his chef slacks. He offers you his hand, and he helps you pull yourself up. You wince at the sting in your knees, but in a way, it felt good.

He immediately takes you into an embrace, not uttering a word. You gladly let him and rest your arms over his shoulder. He grabs your waist tightly and lets his head fall on your shoulder. He breathes in deeply, letting the scent that he knows so well flow into his nose.

He was completely and utterly relaxed—it was a sensation he didn’t feel all that often. You press a gentle kiss to his hair and then to his temple. The two of you just stood like that for some time, saying nothing and enjoying one’s company.

Both of your attention to each other had ceased as the pot that was on the stove had boiled over. A lot of the soup had crashed onto the burning stove. "Fuck!"

Carmen immediately turned the stove off and let out a relieved sigh that nothing had burned. It would just be a bitch to clean up. You hand him a clean washcloth with a slightly guilty look on your face. He took the cloth from you with an annoyed (it was minorly annoyed) glare before wiping down the area.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, Carm." You say, watching his arms flex. "I don't regret a thing."

He rolled his eyes but chuckled under his breath. "Yeah, yeah. Fuck you." The cursing was lighthearted because he knew it too. He didn't regret anything either. In fact, he encouraged something like this again, maybe just without being in the middle of cooking.

He tried the soup again with the dirty spoon—he had a suspicion that it was going to be thrown out anyway. "Shit—Fuck—it's overcooked."

You laughed, one hand resting on your chest. He glared again. "Hey, you can't—seriously, we burned the soup. It's shit."

He still might not admit it, but you could see the way his eyes were still glossed over from the earth-shattering orgasm. He could even feel his cock jump from the way that he watched you bite your lip.

You pressed a finger onto his chin, thumb resting on his jaw. "It'll be okay, Carm." You squeezed his jaw. "You can make some more tomorrow. I’ll help."

Finally, he smiled. Yeah, tomorrow, he thought. His eyes still looked glossy, and his loopy smile was bright. "Let's clean up and go home.”

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto smut #smut

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willows-peak · 4 months

Text

*･ﾟ✧ Sukuna's Favorite Toy

aka sukuna having way too much stamina

tags: fem! reader, porn without plot, multiple orgasms (you and sukuna), overstim, a single spank, he calls reader a bitch once, lotus position, big dick sukuna, creampie, breeding kink near the end

MDNI

word count: 1k

a/n: happy new yearssss. this was written at like 2 in the morning and i think it's very obvious lulz.

⋆｡˚ ♡ You shook as you fell against Sukuna's hard chest, panting as he grunted. "What's the matter, you getting tired?" He said, his tone dripping with false concern. "Can't....m-move...." You nodded into his neck, earning a loud laugh from the King. "I knew it. Humans are always so fragile.." He muttered, smiling at how you tried to keep moving your hips but failing miserably at it. You were just so determined to be good for him, how could he not reward you a little bit?

With a quick movement of his hips, you were slightly repositioned so he could thrust up into you. And thrust he did, good god.

You yelped as his cock was suddenly pistoned up into your pussy, his hands coming to squeeze and slap at your ass. "That's much better, isn't it baby?" You could barely get a word out from how fast he was going, broken moans and gasps being the only thing your mouth would make now. "Ssssuk-una!-" You moaned out, Sukuna flashing a toothy grin down at you. You felt your mind start to fizzle out with how effortlessly he could move your body up and down, his sharp nails poking into the flesh of your ass as he kept thrusting.

"Fuck, this pussy is so wet... All for me, huh? Feels this good because of my cock, right?" He egged you on, grin falling when you failed to respond to him. "Aww, what, am I going too fast? Can't talk?" He spoke lowly, a particularly hard thrust making you jolt, legs trembling against Sukuna's built and toned thighs. "T-too f-aaass', ah! is' too- pleaase is' too goooodd..." You droned out, tears welling up in your pretty eyes as you felt a familiar hot coil start in your belly.

You could do nothing but continue moaning as Sukuna laughed at your state, pushing your hips back enough for his cock to hit your g-spot better. "Is that better?" He cooed, leaning forward and licking the stray tear of pleasure that rolled down your cheek.

"Yesyesyesyesyes- good good good good so good so good, ple-ase mmake me cum, w'nna cum, please please-" You stumbled out, a line of drool falling down your chin as you were quickly brought closer to your orgasm. Sukuna was relentless, your pussy as good as a fleshlight to his cock as he spreads you open further. His fingers shifted down to where you two met, pressing down on chuckling at how much you had to stretch for his cock.

"Cum on my cock, do it, show me how much you fucking love this, bitch." He groaned in your ear, his fingers moving up to your clit and rubbing hurriedly.

You cried out his name loudly as you were nearly thrown off the edge, your orgasm crashing down in wave after wave after wave of ecstasy. By some miracle, Sukuna at least slowed down his thrusting, grinding your hips back and forth on his cock while you slowly rode out your orgasm.

You flopped back against his chest, any semblance of energy in you now sapped out. Sukuna's movements didn't stop, of course, because why would they? Did you think you were done because you already came a few times? Oh you poor thing...

What you'd come to realize is that you're finished when Sukuna is finished. Where's that limit, exactly? I suppose you'll be the one finding out tonight.

----

Sukuna roughly groping your tits, grunting and panting into the crook of your neck as he snapped his hips down into you. God, how long has this been going on? You didn't bother to keep counting after the 3rd time he came inside you, and who knows how long ago that was. All you know is that you felt full, every single inch of Sukuna's disgustingly big cock filling your pussy, his cum seeping out of you and making a small puddle underneath the two of you.

Sukuna was relentless, clearly loving how fucked out you were sounding. "Fuck yes, cum again for me, all over my fucking cock, yes yes yeeessss..." he'd chant while a hand was quickly rubbing your clit. You could barely register your orgasm this time, everything swirling together in a mix of painful overstimulation and the high of your orgasm so much that you gave up on thinking.

Sukuna's cock was just so big, thick and long and able to hit spots your fingers couldn't even dream of reaching. Sometime tonight, you realized the reason Sukuna was so giddy was that he knew you couldn't replace this feeling. This full body exhaustion mixed with a never ending need for more, more, more. He was the only one who could give it to you, and he'd make sure you'd never get enough of it.

You let out a broken cry of his name when he gave a mean thrust inside you, shifting your legs around to have them pressed up against your chest. Angling your hips up like this let him reach even deeper inside you that much easier, Sukuna wasting no time to continue to ruin you in this new position.

"G'na... cum, n you're- g'na take it, ok?" He groaned out, his controlled and calm tone from the beginning of the night all but evaporating to mirror his near manic level of excitement. He watched with such intensity watching your pussy weakly clench around his cock, your scratchy voice calling out his name and your hickey bruised and bouncing tits with his name written on them-

Sukuna threw his head back and cackled as he came again, swearing and wiping the sweat starting to appear on his brow, not stopping his pace through his orgasm. "Gonna get you pregnant with my kid, gonna be my fucking baby maker-" He laughed lowly as he watched your head thrash to the side, your back arching off the mattress.

He roughly grabbed your chin and turned your head back towards him. "Don't you dare look away from me, look at me when I'm knocking you up." He growled the last part out, leaning down to your ear and breathing into it as he moved.

Aren't you just so lucky to have him?

#jjk #jujustu kaisen #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut

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fortune-fool02 · 11 months

Text

Run

Miguel O'Hara x Anomaly, female reader

Summary: [Name] had never truly had a reason to fear Miguel, until now.

Warnings: Light spoilers for ATSV, angst, canon violence. Dark?

Word count: 1,351 words

I couldn't help but fall for this man.

Thank you for reading. Please leave feedback and reblog as it really helps. Thank you.

Please enjoy.

My heart pounded in my ears, drumming heavily inside my chest. Weak, pathetic gasps of breath were all my lungs could muster at this moment, straining my muscles on a thin edge of energy, but I had to keep going. Swallowing down what little oxygen I could, I took off running once again.

The power to this place had been cut off, leaving me shrouded in a thick coat of darkness. Shadows shifting and spreading around the walls and floors, spreading their wings like a great crow, reaching out towards me to swallow me whole. Each little sound, each little noise, no matter how soft or distant, shot a fresh wave of fear through my body.

The walls seemed to be closing in on me, bending unnaturally to contain me, like a rat inside an ever-expanding maze, watched by unseen eyes, observed. Every room I moved into began to look more identical to the last to the point I was certain I was running around in bloody circles now.

I knew I took a left this time instead of right. Or was it the other way around?

"Fuck." I softly cursed, looking around frantically to search for any indication of someplace new, some form of escape from this place. The ache in my muscles begged for me to stop and rest, and it was growing more and more tempting for every second that I stood still, but I had to push it aside. I couldn't risk stopping now.

The silence was calming but tense. My ears straining to listen for anything. How had this all gone so wrong so fast? The thought bounced around in my head. They were supposed to be a team, all of us working together as a unit to keep the balance. And now, there was no team. Only those hunting and those being hunted.

A distant sound caught my attention, making the pulse in my veins go silent for a moment. Something sharp scraping along metal, creating that uncomfortable screeching sound that made one want to grit their teeth. An icy coldness filled my body, sapping out any ounce of courage I might have had before.

The sound grew closer and closer, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end, and I looked around. A small room stood to the side and I pushed the door open, sliding my body inside and tucking down behind a desk, attempting to make myself as small as possible. Anxiety clashed inside of me, gnawing away at my bones and chewed at my veins like a starved dog as I sat absolutely still.

A soft creak was heard from the hinges of the door as it was pushed open, my heart in my throat. Faint, almost silent footsteps tapped the cold floor, the sound almost deafening in the quiet room. A heavy presence filled the room, choking out any ounce of air out and replacing it with this dense, curshing smoke. I almost couldn't breathe.

The bottom of Miguel's shoes could be seen on the otherside of the desk, he was standing so close that if I breathed a little too loud, he would hear it. I bit down on my lip, trying to silence my breathing and watched his movements carefully.

He stood there, his shadow creeping under the small gap under the desk. Even his shadow alone was intimidating. As if I touched it, he would know I was there. I could feel his eyes behind the wood of the desk, piercing down at me with their vibrant, eerie glow. The eyes of a predator hunting down his prey, his meek, pathetic prey.

Any minute now, he would tear the desk apart and expose my hiding spot and then it was all over for me. It was by some stroke of luck that I had survived this long running from him. Miguel had always seemed like a patient man, but behind that patience, there was something brewing. Stirring under the surface. Waiting for its chance to emerge.

Now, he was almost a different man. Someone I had once trusted to have my back in any situation, someone I sided with through thick and thin.

Slowly, his shoes turned away from the desk and began to walk out of the room. A small breath of relief slipped my lips before it was cut off by a painful sharpness, my body distorting for a brief moment as a violent glitch ran through my body. And his footsteps stopped.

Before I had a chance to move, five talons pierced through the wood of the desk, just missing my head by a hair thread before the desk was thrown across the room, shattering upon impact and throwing splinters outwards.

Miguel stood there, his expression twisted with an anger that made my very nerves tense up. His eyes glowing deeply in the darkness.

"There you are." His voice was dripping with the same venom in his fangs, that could out any snake or spider to shame. A fearful cry left my lips as I tried to crawl backwards, trying to get away from him, but Miguel was faster. He always was.

His foot shot out, striking my chest hard and pinned me to the floor. The weight of it crushing out any air in my lungs.

"M-Mi....guel...." I choked out, trying to squirm under his weight, a fruitless attempt. His body lowered down, his knee replacing his foot which only made it worse. A faint cracking sound was made from my chest, my ribcage straining under him to the point I feared the bones would snap. His eyes pierced into me, deep into my very soul, eyes that I once would gaze deeply into. But now, all I saw was rage.

"All you had to do was listen to me, [Name]." He hissed out, his fangs glimmering in the low light, "And you couldn't even do that." I couldn't help but cower. Of all the enemies I faced in my universe, none of them came close to the fear I felt looking up at Miguel at this moment in time. None of them came close to the threat that he radiated.

"P-Please, I made a mistake, I know that." I forced out, wheezing for air as my lungs began to burn. All I could focus on where those eyes of his. The only spark of colour in the darkness around us. Even like this, there was a beauty to the man, in the same way that a venomous snake held the most beautiful patterns in their scales, or a tiger baring the boldest of stripes on their fur.

Or the most stunning spider holding the most potent venom.

The cold sharpness of his talons brushed along the side of my face, pushing some strands out of the way of my eyes, but the tips of them hovering far too close for comfort to my eyes.

"Then you knew this would be coming." Miguel's talon brushed the corner of my eye, making the muscle around it twitch. "Then you wouldn't have tried to run." A light stinging sensation was felt as the tip of the talon pushed into my skin lightly, just enough to break the skin but not deep enough to draw blood. Slowly, he dragged it along to my cheekbone, an almost thoughtful expression filling his face as if admiring something.

Then, he shifted the movement sharply, cutting open a wound. "Ah!"

His other hand gripped the side of my head, forcing me to keep still and look up at him, and only him. I was completely at his mercy. Until he saw my punishment fit of my so-called 'crime'.

When Miles had made a run for it through the 'Go-Home' machine, I made no attempt to stop him. I let him run right past me when I was more than capable of stopping him. I was the last line of defence, and I let Miles escape. My loyalty might have laid with Miguel, but my sympathy was with Miles. The boy deserved a chance to save his father.

Miguel, clearly, did not see it the same way.

#miguel x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #spiderman2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #atsv #atsv x reader

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melehound · 9 months

Text

141 + König giving you aftercare! AFAB READER!

Kyle “gaz” Garrick

Has baby wipes in his bedside drawer so he doesn’t have to walk to the bathroom

He takes his time wiping up the mess he left soft and tender without fail every single time even if you fell asleep after he’s prying those legs apart and cleaning up (he doesn’t want you to drip and stain his linen 💀)

He also takes pregnancy seriously he doesn’t want to get you pregnant if that isn’t the plan (he was raised with MANY siblings) so he doesn’t let the baby batter marinate inside for long on the rare occasion that he doesn’t pull out or wear a condom so he cleans you up thoroughly

After he always prefers to shower with you but if your too tired he’ll just lay there with you pouty because he feels all sweaty

John price

So he never pulls out after just one round he just rests against you until he’s ready again

If he continues with that formula you both end up falling asleep together after a while so the only aftercare your getting is cuddling together with cum running down your thighs

But if you use the safe word and you just don’t feel like it he’ll pull out and clean you up and takes you to the bath while you lay in between his legs while he washes and holds you price is such a sap 😭

He just sits there holding you until you say it’s time to get out and then he takes you out

John “soap” mactavish

He definitely takes a minute before finally pulling out he just kinda sits there inside you for a minute after sex like :)

But when he finally pulls out and stumbles to the bathroom to get something to help you he trips over shit before finally making it to the bathroom and grabbing some toilet paper and wiping you up before falling dead asleep on your chest (sex makes him sleepy)

He tries his best but he’s just tired especially because he really likes giving you more than one orgasm he wants to make sure your out just as cold as he is when he’s done

Simon “ghost” Riley

Most the time he tries to wear a condom but even if he does wear a condom he likes to clean you up anyway it’s to show he cares

He puts more emphasis on holding you after (more like you holding him) he likes to lay his head on your stomach or boobs with your hands in his hair

Sex is a very intimate act for him and he’s vulnerable after it’s like mutual aftercare when you guys hold each other :( He is usually very quiet after he’s just so emotionally exhausted afterwards but he’s happy and content with holding you

König

Instead of wiping he prefers to take you to the bath and clean you up fully and you both are pretty squished in the bath because he’s so huge so you don’t really have a choice but to lay on him in the bath

He actually likes to wash your hair and put on your body wash and lotion

He also finds sex to be very vulnerable for him especially because he loves you so much he just wants to make it good for you and if that includes cleaning you up then he’s more than happy to do it :)

((✿: I think I might start writing for Valeria shes so hot Oml 😭 AND WTF MY PERIOD HC POST IS GETTING SO MUCH LOVE THANK YOU!!! 🙏))

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #john price x reader #cod x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #cod headcanons #kyle gaz garrick x reader #Kyle gaz garrick x you

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thatfreshi · 8 months

Note

Can you make an Angsty Astarion x mortal!reader fic where Astarion realizes that one day the reader will pass and he’ll be alone again🙏🙏🙏 I need more Angst of this man😭

TW - Talk of death, graveyards

Recommended Song: Halley's Comet - Billie Eilish

Astarion often visits graveyards. It's some form of therapy, a place where he can let it all out, a place where he can mourn what he never had, what he doesn't remember. You don't usually go with him, deciding it's best to give him something just for him. Occasionally he'll ask you to come with him, if it's been a particularly rough time or if it's a special day. At the very least he goes once a month, and it's never a question of where he's going, you just know. You worry about him sometimes, being alone in some graveyard. You are all each other have, all you cherish, all you love. It's not often you're apart, but it's not all that difficult to stick to someone like sap when you can't be in the sun.

It's the anniversary of the death of some family member he doesn't remember, who died centuries ago, but some part of him feels as though he should at least go. Not like anyone else goes to see his family anymore. You're in the living room, setting up the fireplace for when you return. Astarion comes downstairs, and you hear his shoes tap each step. You turn to find him in all black, you are as well.

"Are you ready to go?"

You ask, grabbing your trusty knife off the table by the front door, sheathing it under your jacket. It's been quite cold as of recent.

"Mhm."

He doesn't say much. He doesn't have to say much.

"Then let's go."

You smile warmly and wrap yourself around his arm. The graveyard you're visiting isn't too far from the house. It's where most of the Ancuníns were laid to rest, including Astarion's 'grave.' When you arrive, he knows right where to go, and you simply follow along. A while back he memorized all of these people, their death dates, who they were, trying to remember anything he could from a life he lost long ago. The two of you sit in front of an ornate grave, a second cousin of his, or something of the like. You feel guilty that you don't remember like he does.

"I appreciate you."

He'd been silent the entire walk here.

"You always come with me when I ask. I know it may not make sense, I just feel as though it's right, to at least try."

"Of course my love. Whatever you need."

You rest your head on his shoulder and read the inscription on the tombstone. Apparently this man got a terrible illness, died sometime in his 20s, extremely young for an elf. You wonder how much Astarion remembers, if he knew this man at all. You never pry though. He always shares when he's ready. Suddenly, he squeezes your hand.

"I'll miss you. I don't miss these people, but I'll miss you."

"That's hardly a fair comparison. You barely remember them."

"I'll remember you forever. Even if I were enslaved for two hundred more years after this, I couldn't ever forget you."

He kisses the top of your head, lingering for a moment to take in your scent, the feeling of your hair, every little thing he'll remember when you're gone.

"The truth is darling, I don't think I'll ever love again, once you're gone."

He begins to cry. You hadn't thought about him with future lovers, lying with another soul.

"That's not fair though."

"What makes you say that?"

"You deserve to love after me. You deserve to be loved after me."

He sadly chuckles to himself.

"As if anyone could ever compare. You're the sun, and I the moon. Without you, no light would ever reflect off me again. A dark husk of a man, that's what I will be when you're gone."

He sounds so sure of himself, as if beyond you there is nothing. Then again, you've made this entire life together. Who else would fall in love with a vampire spawn with no master, a monster who's never going to be quite right? You're not sure what to say.

"To be honest, I don't think I could fall in love with someone else, even if I tried my damnest. You've made me feel safe in a way that is so foreign, fabricated just for me. You can't replicate that. You can't find someone so willing to be this patient, this kind, to not only love me for my body."

"You have so much more to love though."

"I don't think anyone would see it the way you do my sweet."

You shift to turn and look at Astarion, taking his hands in yours.

"You know what I love most about you?"

He softly smiles.

"What?"

"That you can change. It's something many people forget to do, to change and evolve, to find more in life than their misery. You've changed, for the better. Very few can do that the way you have."

"It's you who changed me."

Sometimes it frustrates you, how little credit he gives himself. Then again, it's much better than it used to be.

"Just promise me something? Once I'm gone, find another way to be happy. Find something that makes your heart flutter, that causes those precious creases when you smile. Find something else, if not for yourself, for me."

He nestles into your neck, giving you a soft kiss.

"I promise to try my love, that's all I can do."

His eyes are still misty, the tears get onto your neck. You try hard not to cry yourself, but it's hard when your heart is breaking outside of your body. You pray in that moment, although you're not sure to what god or power, but you pray that he'll be okay when you die, that it's a long time away from someone driving a stake through his ribs, that he finds joy in the small things like he does now. After all, hope is all you have when the afterlife comes to get you so soon.

"I hope I get to watch over you, wherever I end up."

"Like some kind of angel or something?"

"I guess. Like your guardian."

"Do you think I'll know?"

"Yes, I think you'll know. Maybe I'll take on the body of stray cats, follow you on the streets, lead you down paths with less heartache."

"I'd like that, very much."

~~~

Decades later, Astarion gets ready to leave the house, your knife on the table. When he steps out onto the cobblestone streets, there's a pure white cat standing a couple feet away. It meows, almost melodically, and turns to a nearby alleyway. He walks to where the animal was standing, and turns to look into the alleyway, but there is no sight of the stray. He smiles.

"Thank you, my love."

#comfort #angst #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav

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innuendostudios · 3 months

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youtube

New video essay! On the Reverse Gish Gallop - how conservatives can ignore 90% of your argument and still appear to be winning.

If you would like more of this, subscribe to Nebula and/or back me on Patreon!

Transcript below the cut.

Say, for the sake of argument, you’re watching a political debate on TV. The conservative candidate has used their opening arguments to dump a truckload of dubious claims on their opponent. You recognize this maneuver: that’s the Gish Gallop! The debater makes point after dubious point, and, if the other debater doesn’t rebut every single one, they will appear to have lost the argument. These points don’t have to be good or hard to disprove, there just has to be a lot of them.

Oh, but what’s this? The liberal candidate seems to have come prepared! That’s new! They succinctly and efficiently dismantle each of their opponent’s arguments, offering a clear rebuttal to every single one. It’s obviously not the first time they’ve heard this particular gallop. So, the conservative’s petard has just fully hoisted them. [“What a hoisting!”] They’ve just lost their own game and have to go on the defensive… right?

Turns out, no! The conservative points to a minor error - maybe the liberal said their program would cost $40 million but is actually estimated to cost 43 - and treats them as an ignorant sap who can’t even count correctly. That is now the subject, everything else has been forgotten, and the liberal is backpedaling.

Wait, you exclaim, how does that work?! The liberal has to rebut each and every point but the conservative takes issue with one and stays in the driver’s seat? Are audiences fooled by this? Are liberals that easily snookered? The answer may shock you!

You’ve just borne witness to The Reverse Gish Gallop, where an entire argument falls apart if any of it can be disputed. These disputes, again, don’t have to be good, they just have to call the airtightness of the argument into question.

A good example is how conservatives obsess over gaffes. (Which, fuckin’... really guys?? [W, Trump]) Some Democrat will be all “conservatives want to shut down post offices as a form of vote suppression; they’re pushing voter ID laws and the post office is where many people get IDs; also we are relying more and more heavily on mail-in voting; they overwhelmingly try to shut down offices in Black and Latine neighborhoods; a lot of services like healthcare and courts still use physical mail by default and there can be serious consequences to getting it late; many elderly people still don’t use email, and, hey, maybe some of them like getting junk mail” “AH BA BA BA THAT’S IT THAT’S YOUR WHOLE LIFE NOW FOR THE REST OF YOUR CAREER YOU’RE THE ASSHOLE WHO SAID OLD PEOPLE LIKE JUNK MAIL.”

Your mistake was assuming that dishonest people abide by the same rules they impose on everyone else. When I was a teenager, some friends of the family would invite me along when they asked my parents to dinner, because I would play with their five-year-old and let the grown-ups chat in peace. And he’d make up games where we’d bat a balloon back and forth or whatever, and change the rules on the fly when it suited him. Because the rule wasn’t actually “you can only touch the balloon once per turn;” the rule was “Andrew wins.”

The purpose of a Gish Gallop is to establish a narrative not through argument or logic but force and volume. Once established, it takes a lot less effort for them to maintain than for you to establish a new one. If they shake confidence in your argument, the audience will often revert to the previous argument, whether or not that one was ever proven. It’s a not about which story is true, it’s about who sets the parameters for all stories going forward; who got there first. This is not a debate; this is a Zerg Rush. Understand: a dishonest argument is Lego - you haven’t dismantled it until every brick is separated. But an honest rebuttal? An honest rebuttal is Jenga.

#video essay #alt-right playbook #Youtube

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liketolovexx · 23 days

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Can I pls request some really fluffy headcanons about married life with lupin pls?❤️‍🩹 maybe with a reader who can’t keep her hands off him (but in a fluffy way, like she just likes to feel him near, so there’s a lot of hand holding, holding onto his arm, hugging/cuddling, etc.) and he doesn’t complain bc he’s a big sweetheart and is exactly the same.

Thank you so much💞💕

Ofc u can my love!!! Sorry it took me a while to get to this, Here u go <3

Married life headcanons ~ R.J.L

Sometimes, after marriage, couples get sick of each other and get less and less affectionate as time goes on. That did NOT happen with you and Remus. I think I’ve said before that Remus is hesitant to cuddle anyone at first, the only people he trusts being Sirius, James and Peter.

I imagine that when Remus began to trust you, it was also the moment he solidified in his mind that he was going to marry you some day. It was after a full moon, his body sore and broken, James was getting a little bit too boisterous, and you snapped at him with a protective tone Remus had never heard you use before. Your hand was on his thigh, and he swore he felt his brain turn into mush. That was when he knew. Sirius was the only one who noticed the changing sparkle in his vacant eyes. He smirked knowingly, watching his best friend’s uncharacteristically wide eyes envision his future with you.

I think after the wedding, you two slept together. It was passionate, and he kept growling “mine..” over and over. Even the wolf in him claimed you as his and his only. The boy was in love. You fell asleep slumped over his chest while he used one hand to hold his book and one to pet your hair. Once he finished reading, he spent 20 minutes or so gazing at your peacefully sleeping form. You looked like an angel; you were an angel in his eyes. Tears glided down the scarred apples of his cheeks, and he didn’t even bother to wipe them away. He vowed to look after you always: you were his now. Always.

He didn’t fail to notice your everyday clinginess. It overwhelmed him at first, not being used to physical affection at all, but soon, he found himself seeking it out. When you sat beside him on the sofa, if you weren’t immediately all over him, he soon learned to shuffle closer to you until you gave in and smothered him. One of your arms was always wrapped around him. Your pinkie was always linked with his. If it wasn’t that, it was your hands. You loved to always be touching him. He swears he falls in love again every time you cuddle up to him to fall asleep.

He really is just a big sap. One night, you agreed to a movie night with the marauders, and couldn’t hold back from nuzzling under Remus’s chin again. He pet your back, unable to hold back his lovesick smirk. “God, can you two tone down the PDA?” Sirius joked with a huge teasing grin. “Wait, no, let me join in.” He said, leaping into the cuddle and nuzzling his head into Remus’s neck on the other side. “Hey! Stop trying to steal my boyfriend, pads!” You cried, swatting at him with a genuine smile. “Hey, hey! Watch the hair, girl!” He yelps, jumping up, laughing. Remus just sits there, grinning and thinking that if he died right now, he’d die happy.

All of the trauma and turmoil he’d endured in his painful lifetime, all of it was worth this sense of safety, happiness and satisfaction that this all gave him. He had his best friends brothers, he had you.

He had you. Remus Lupin was satisfied with the outcome of his life, and with you and Sirius bickering in the background, James laughing, a smile splitting Remus’ beautiful features, he prayed nothing would ever change again.

~~~

(Please don’t copy any of my work or paste it onto other platforms!)

#marauders x reader #marauders #remus lupin x reader #marauders era #remus lupin scenario #remus lupin prompt #remus lupin x you #remus lupin #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin headcanon #moony x reader #Remus Lupin💌*~

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spitdrunken · 8 months

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Can I have a oneshot about yandere!Rollo masturbating with one of readers articles of clothing he somehow got his hands on without their knowledge, and maybe he fantasizes about them praising him? Bonus points if he gets emotional-

notes: yandere

Rollo is used to having a monster live underneath his skin. The thrum of magic in his veins, the flames that lap at his very flesh. But after meeting with you, a poor, magicless student that had been thrown into a lion's den, he has another burden to carry. Where, before, he'd been wishing to erase magic for the good of society as a whole. Now, when he thinks about it, your face is what takes center stage in his mind. He's never had another person infect his mind so quickly.

(He wants to save you. He wants you to look at him like he is a good person, to tell him that all his struggling, all his pain, would be justified in the end. He is not in the wrong. He has never been in the wrong. In this story, he's never been the villain.)

The urge to look into your room is unbearable. So, on the day that he can least afford distractions, during the time that you are eating breakfast together with all those disgusting mages, he sneaks in. He has a key that fits every lock.

And, right there, on your bed, your suitcase has been left wide open, beckoning him. Rollo simply can't resist. His legs are staggering, and his fingers are shaking as he reaches out to the first thing he sees: one of your shirts. As soon as he grabs it, he crumples to his knees, and hugs the fabric to his chest. A whiff of your scent travels up to his nose.

Rollo is breathing through his mouth, trying to keep it calm and under control, but it keeps speeding up. With a shudder, he realises that he's hard.

(And this, this is what he hates. This is a part of himself that is unapologetically selfish. It hungers.)

You've been nice to him. You've smiled to him. To all of his explanations about the history of the City of Flowers, you listened with unblemished interest. There is little to justify such a strong attraction, in such little time- But this is how he feels, isn't it? And tonight, after the Crimson Lotuses have dyed the city red, you will look at him with nothing but gratitude in your eyes.

With a hiss, a sharp intake of breath, Rollo buries his nose into your shirt, and places his hand over the bulge in his pants. He rubs so hard it burns, rutting against it and feeling (filthy, disgusting) a kind of relief. Tears spring to his eyes and stain the fabric of your shirt.

This can't be him, he tells himself, this is not a part of him. He's not like any of the others, he's good. All this is, is magic corrupting him- He had no choice. Tonight, he'll be released from its tainting influence forever. It's fine, he's good, and you'll tell him that, in your gratitude, you'll never be able to forget him-

In record time, he cums, staining the inside of his underwear and pants. All of the energy is sapped from his body at once, and he falls forward. In this position, he looks like someone kneeling at an altar. He bunches his hands up, the fabric wrinkling in his hands.

In the cleansing fire of today, he hopes nothing of this part of himself will be left, either.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #rollo flamm x reader #rollo flamme x reader #yandere #cha.rollo #cw.yandere

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strwberri-milk · 1 month

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incubus Lads boys where mc starts falling in love with them on accident 🔞🤭😫

HMM im seeing this as??? like. l&ds beginning a sexual relationship only to satisfy their incubus desires and mc falling in love w them thereby breaking their friends w benefits situation but also. its so sweet if both of them are in love and i kinda did that bc if i didnt itd be too angsty and i just like happiness ;-; - also pls mind the growing pains theres a reason why rafayels the only well levelled chara in my account <33 so uhh theres more mutual pining bc they both fell in love by accident :(

He was very clear about the relationship that the two of you would enter. You want companionship and he has a need that has to be fulfilled. It didn't matter that the reason why he asked you and you specifically was because he already knew that there could be nobody else. You are absolutely perfect for him in every way that matters - from the way you fit in his arms to the pretty way his name sounds on your lips.

Zayne did his best to keep things professional. He was sure to meet you on your terms, even if it felt like he was starving for your touch. He already felt awful about needing you as badly and as frequently as he does and asking to have you when he needs you feels like a line he just refuses to cross.

You on the other hand found yourself wanting to do just that. You had no idea if it was because of his nature as an incubus or if it was the slow growing of your feelings for him that made you want to see him again and again no matter how little time has passed. You wanted more than anything to be as detached as he was, not wanting to make things difficult.

It didn't matter though. You lay there catching your breath, watching as he dresses again after another night. Your eyes lightly dance over the way his suit slips over his strong arms, face barely flush as though the two of you had done nothing more than catch up over a cup of coffee. He doesn't say much - he's never been one to talk too much in your presence regardless - but when he looks at you you feel your heart stop.

You don't even realise that you're reaching out to him until you feel his lips press against your fingertips. Your eyes are wide, unsure what the gesture itself meant. You didn't want to get your hopes up of course, but when he presses his lips against your forehead in a show of affection before leaving you allow yourself a moment of limerence.

Xavier has a tendency to forget that he has other needs until he sees you've texted him or a photo of you that pops up on his phone as a reminder that besides the friendship you two have, there's another level to your agreements.

He found himself always being gentler with you than you might want him to be. It didn't matter how you'd ask him or if you tried to convince him that you can handle it - a part of him was terrified that he'd lose you if he misjudged your passions and worked you too hard.

You sigh breathlessly as he presses another kiss to your throat, feeling the weight of his body as he presses himself closer in the throes of pleasure. He feels amazing as always and the rush of energy he gets from your pleasure is already something addictive. He knows he can't be without you now that he's had you and he known that for quite a while.

He turns back around partway through getting dressed, thinking you were trying to tell him something. You've always been sluggish after have sex, playfully teasing him and blaming him for sapping too much of your energy. He watches carefully to see if you'll say anything else, softening even more when you reach out for him.

You know that you need him here with you right now, fully aware this whole time that you loved him more than you are ever allowed to. That didn't seem like something you could ever entertain but here in your pleasure addled fatigue all you could think about was the need to feel your arms around him as he held you to sleep.

The bed felt warmer in the morning and you're absolutely certain you weren't wearing these clothes last night. You're not sure if you're just imagining the smell of his cologne in your sheets but you bury yourself in them regardless, quickly falling back asleep with dreams of him.

Rafayel was fun - that's how you saw it. The two of you practically fell into bed once you came to an agreement of terms and your relationship made it easy for you to trust him. He made you feel good and perhaps it was just in his nature but he was just always so romantic. He's an artist so perhaps that was just your imagination but his absolutely needy nature for your attention always spilled into bed.

You can barely breathe when he's got his lips on yours again, stealing your breath despite not needing it. You willingly give it to him as you always will, knowing that the way you held him was not just to ground yourself but borne out of a visceral need that eclipsed whatever kinds he has. He holds you just as tightly, reassuring words whispered into your ear.

You couldn't help but fall in love with him. You adored him more than you could ever fathom, staring up into the glass panes of his ceiling as you willed yourself to get up and get dressed. He was already up and about, well energised from your efforts and you tried your best to will back the fear of being nothing more than an agreement for him.

He sees your hesitation and you can hear him pause at the head of the bed, raising his brow as you turn to face him. You're not sure what he sees when he looks at you, unaware that he would be pleased to do nothing more than admire you until the day he died. The two of you don't notice how much time passes, scarcely moving a muscle until he reaches out and cups your cheek affectionately.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #l&ds

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softshuji · 3 months

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𝟎𝟖:𝟐𝟓𝐀𝐌 | 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐉𝐈

Title: It's not like you're in love with him….right?

Summary: You're not in love with him, despite how much you might want to be, despite how much he might love you. Reblogs Appreciated!

cw: fem! reader, some suggestive content but nothing too much, pet names (babe, doll, pretty girl), mutual pining, canon typical violence, reader and shuji are sickeningly in love. A little smth for Valentine's cos i'm a sap. Back to masterlist here.

You’re not in love with Hanma Shuji. You’re never under any impression that he can be anything other than what he already is, that his name alone speaks volumes anyway.

It feels sometimes, as if he has fooled everyone but you, as if you are the only person his charm has not lulled into stupefied affection. You listen sometimes, padding around the kitchen as he takes the call to Kisaki in the other room, his feet thrown up over the armrest of the sofa, a cigarette dangling unlit between his lips and a t- shirt that hangs lazily over his body, the sinew of his muscle peeking through the collar.

You like him best like that. Unguarded, unaware, stripping back the blithe mask that he presses to his face every morning, as confidently as he dons the suit, the clean and sharp lines of his shirt tucked into even sharper dress pants.

You wonder if he practises it, the cloak he wears as armour, the easy smile, the grin that’s always quick to come and always with a promise of some mischief or another.

You like that side of him too, unpredictable and chaotic, with the zing of energy that bounces from his skin and you know, in those moments of his excitement, you would go anywhere with him, that he could buoy you along and carry you, drag you even, to hell and back.

You wonder if he knows that a simple grin has the blood in your veins pulsing in time with your pattering heart, if he knows that you reach for him at night when it’s colder than normal and his skin is warm and you can only think of the feeling of him as you slip into sleep.

But you’re not in love with him. That much is certain.

You like him when he laughs, big and beautiful and swallowing the light in the room and sometimes he’ll throw his head back and the curls will fall across his forehead, just shy of his nose and your hand will twitch with the need to brush them back, to linger on his cheek for the barest of moments, just to feel the heat, the delicious ache of being close to him. And maybe the copper flash of his eyes will fall on your wrist and flit to your lips and a hand will come out to grab you by the throat or waist, your heart punching a raucous tune against your ribs. Yes perhaps you have thought about kissing him, more than once. Perhaps you have thought about needily biting down on his lips, sliding your tongue along his and fisting the collars of his pressed shirt as he hums into your mouth.

So what? It’s nothing new, he’s an attractive man and you’re under no illusions about the queues and lines of women who not only think the same but would trade anything for the opportunity of a single night of his time.

You try to resist the urge to reach for him in the darker moments, a call away that you’re not sure he’d answer anyway, and fail spectacularly when you thumb through your contacts and your finger catches on a candid shot of him messing with a camera, the usual feline grin softened into something more tender.

‘Something wrong Doll? You don’t usually call at this time,’ he says and you hear the revving of an engine behind, the squeal of tires and purr of his motorbike.

‘I’m sorry, I just missed you is all. I can’t sleep.’ It’s not entirely a lie, or a truth either but you think it’ll suffice and you hope he doesn’t detect the needy whine in your throat that always accompanies the furious heat across your neck when you’re this clingy with him. It’s out of your hands for the most part, inevitable. You wonder if he knows that too.

‘Mmh.’ And the drone of the bike peters off into something more smooth, the whoosh and whistle of wind spilling down the receiver. ‘You wanna come for a drive? You can give her a spin with me.’

You like that about him too, the ease with which he carries you with him, lifts and takes you, clutching onto his torso and burying your cheek against the shifting muscle of his back as he drives, often silently, a hand reaching for your wrist to draw a faint circle on. He never mentions it, and you like that too, that it is so effortless to exist with him, in this bubble he has made that has shunned anyone who isn’t him.

But you’re not in love with him, you know that.

You like him when he teases, and the hot flush of embarrassment makes a steady crawl towards your ears, creeping along the hairs on your arm. He likes that he can draw such visceral reactions from you like that, that the sliding of his hand along your thigh or the domineering way he grabs your chin to look at you when he knows you’re lying is enough to make you crumble under the weight of his gaze. And perhaps he’ll swipe his thumb along your lip and watch you frown and attempt to break his stare, sighing defeatedly when he tuts under his breath and tightens his grip. He likes that you’ve so willingly placed your life in his calloused hands, the scars brushing against your cheek. He likes you most like that, laughing, the heat of your nerves warm under his palms, the jump of your heart in your veins and still, choosing him above all things.

Because he knows.

He knows he’s rough and his words cut hard enough to make you bleed, that he’s unpredictable at the best and worst of times, that (in his own words) he is unstable, and not the rock you need. He’s unapologetic about it and you like that and maybe he likes that you like it, that you accept him enough not to question the chaotic part of himself that has only grown as he sprinted into adulthood over the years.

If he was more honest with himself or others, maybe he could admit he’s in love with you.

But Hanma Shuji is not an honest man, and you’re under no illusions about what that could mean for you, and the inevitable heartbreak you know is coming should you take that leap of faith. It explains more than half of your caution, and you try not to let it get to you when he stumbles into your apartment in the middle of the night with a slash across his toned stomach and glassy eyes, his cuffs stained with blood that you can’t be sure isn’t his.

‘You can’t keep doing this Shuji babe,’ you say, a cotton gauze held to the red welling on his lip and your own trembling with the effort to hold yourself in check.

He frowns, the slip and slide of his perfect throat disappearing beneath the open collar of his stained shirt before grinning wildly, catching your wrist in one bloodied hand.

‘Mhm, you don’t like being my pretty little nurse anymore?’ But it stings in a way that has nothing to do with the antiseptic drying on his skin and he’s trying to sate the pain by rubbing circles onto your palm but you’re hurt, and he sees the wobble of your lip pulled by your teeth.

‘That’s not it.’

‘Then what is?’ He knows of course, he just wants to hear it, that you can’t run towards him anymore, that you don’t love him enough to hang onto him like dead weight and maybe he’ll be able to down some drinks and get over it but he needs to hear it.

‘I’m scared Shuji,’ you say and it hurts to speak under the weight of his stare. ‘I’m scared that one day you’re not coming back to me.’

You remember once, a long time ago in the early days of your relationship, the first time you had seen the nicks and bruises and cuts that graced his body, lashes of ridged scars on his back and chest that you had tentatively touched and you had wondered what he had seen and done to hurt like that. As you had run a finger over the slightly raised skin, he had caught your wrist and bent to kiss your palm, his eyes closed, the curve of his lashes spreading over the sharp cut of his cheekbones.

‘Best not to get attached’, he says, as if he has not spent the better part of the last few weeks waiting for an excuse to call you, to bombard your phone with messages, to turn up bloody and ragged at your door with a grin that he knows you’ll melt for. He knows it could end any day now. Maybe he won’t make it to your door, maybe you can’t fix him this time, maybe he isn’t half as heroic as you believe him to be.

‘C’mere pretty girl,’ he says this time, because he can’t make an empty promise to you again and it hurts enough as it is to watch the tears pool in your eyes knowing if he’d let you go, you’d have one less reason to cry.

So instead he pulls you onto his lap and holds you and for a second, a moment in time, he is not a gangster with blood on his hands. He is just a man who loves a girl. And maybe he likes you a little too much and he’s just as worn as the scuffs on his cigarette tin and you’re just pure and good and sweet and pretend not to see the stains on the cuffs of his shirt but for one night he wouldn’t mind sating his insatiable appetite with you, wouldn’t mind forgetting who he is and what he’s done just to taste the promise of you with his hands.

He wonders if this is what love is, if this tightness that borders on pain in his chest is what the shitty poets talked about.

As much as you hate to admit it, there’s a certain level of pride that comes from being the one he looks for in the moments between, when he’s delirious with pain and murmuring profanities into your skin and you cup his face so gently, and brush the curls matted with blood from his forehead and press your lips to his nose and he’s closer to saying the three words than he’s ever been.

You like him in those softer moments. The blanket is too small for his frame and his legs dangle off the edge of the sofa, his lips are parted, an arm thrown over his eyes as the heating whirs in the background. A gauze is taped haphazardly to the gash in his stomach, the thin sheen of sweat glistening under the lamplight and a bottle of painkillers discarded somewhere, rolling on the floor. It’s how he always is. Bustling into your house, into your life, the chaotic frenzy dragging you along with him. Perhaps if you loved him any less you might be able to talk about it more.

So yes. Yes he’s beautiful, strikingly so. Yes he is funny beyond a doubt and a single grin from him is enough to have the nerves coiling tight in your stomach relaxing on instinct, and yes you think there will never come a day when you do not look for him at night, but you know that’s all it is.

After all, it's not like you're in love with him…right?

a/n: I have nothing to say except I would eat the sun for him. Happy Valentines to the light of my eyes, the heart of my heart.

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