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catopoliscat · 25 days

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next time / kento nanami/fem!reader.

who would have thought that kento nanami was a virgin? not you. not after this long. perhaps he was saving himself for someone. perhaps he was waiting for you.

tags: nsfw. 18+. fem!reader. afab reader. penetrative sex. alcohol. dry humping. virgin!nanami. mutual pining. friends to lovers. creampie (wrap it kids). unprotected sex. touch-starved!nanami. canon!verse. you've known nanami since school. tinges of angst. nanami wanted you bad lmao. it's love babey. reader has experience. no use of y/n or any other placeholders. ever. wc: 7.7k. a/n: i kind of fear nanami's a little ooc here lmao, but i've spent too long on this so fuck it we ball he deserves this

also how mad would you be if i said this was set a week before shibuya arc be honest

mdni.

You’re a bottle and half of zinfandel deep when Nanami tells you.

Although you’re both a little warm, tipsy perhaps, you didn’t think either of you were quite drunk enough for this conversation just yet. It was a regular occurrence for the two of you to share a drink on a Friday, or a bottle in more pressing times.

There were more bottles than glasses, lately.

It was just two old friends, catching up. Talking. Complaining--usually about Satoru. Often you’d reminisce on easier times. Warm summers in the Jujutsu High courtyard, the cold tin of a soda in your hands, a bottle of water in his. Quiet talks of dreams and eventualities. Ignoring the gaping absence of a third at between you.

Tonight though, you’re not sure when the topic had changed. Somewhere between the last dregs of the first bottle and the beginning of the second, the conversation had grown more sombre than usual. Talk of love and relationships always seemed to make the air heavier around the two of you, for different reasons. A stark air of loneliness that not even the most tart of white wine could overpower.

You had offhandedly mentioned turning down one of the windows you had met on your last mission. He had been younger than you, still full of life where the holes in yourself had long since emptied it out. You had shaken your head, flattered, but tired. There were better options for a man like him, still full of hope and vitality, a whole life ahead of him… when you knew any day yours could be cut deftly short.

You had told yourself it had little to do with the fact that the man’s bright smile had reminded you of another, so many years ago.

In the quiet of Nanami’s living room, swirling the last drops of your wine in your glass, you had mentioned that you had no real desire for relationships anymore. Other than sex, of course, but only sexual. A temporary release, one of the few you had left. Nameless faces and hurried touches. Sometimes clinical, sometimes primal. Always quick, and never the same person twice.

You know?

To which Nanami had replied, “No.”

Misunderstanding the gravity of what he was saying, you had raised an eyebrow, a curious smile playing at your lips. “Not one for one-night stands?”

It occurs to you distantly that you don’t know a lot about Nanami’s romantic life. Close as you two were, or so you liked to believe, he had never really mentioned it. And you had never asked.

Nanami had shook his head in response to your question, and you had nodded. It aligned with his character, you thought. As cold and stoic as he liked to act, you couldn’t imagine a world where he would use and discard someone. He felt too much, cared too much. He would love too much too, if given the chance. If he gave himself the chance.

In your musings, you had almost missed what he had murmured next.

“I’ve never had sex at all.”

Kento Nanami. A virgin.

The confession has your lips parting, your eyes blinking. Once, then twice, akin to an owl. You glance down at your wine glass for a moment, as if it had been the slightly smeared glass that had been speaking to you instead, and not the esteemed stoic sorcerer you had known for the better part of ten years.

You look over at Nanami on the couch, but he’s staring at the carpet, his expression contemplative, almost pensive. His brows are drawn taut, a small knit on his forehead. His lips are drawn into a thin line, a slight crease in his chin. There was a specific emotion dancing in his eyes. You almost dared to use the word vulnerable.

It seems… ridiculous. Nanami? Attractive as he was? Kind, considerate, hard-working, to a degree. A woman’s dream. In another life, perhaps your dream too.

Had it not been for Nanami’s serious demeanour, and the fact that ‘joke’ and ‘Nanami’ rarely went together in the same sentence, you might have thought he was pulling your leg. A joke between friends.

But he wasn’t. He very clearly wasn’t.

“That’s… fine,” you finally say after a small moment, fearing you had let the silence linger too long. “There’s no rush for these things.”

Nanami’s hum is short and clipped. Gruff, almost. He still refuses to meet your eye for now, and you make no move to change that. You get the distinct feeling that this newfound vulnerability doesn’t stem from him never having sex, but rather, the reason why he’s denied himself - because you know for a fact it has little to do with opportunity.

You had lost track of how many women you had watched Nanami turn down, clipped and short, yet always polite.

The silence is heavy between you. In the other room, you can hear the hum of his refrigerator, the buzz of the bulbs in the lights. Nanami’s apartment has always been quiet, but this silence feels suffocating. Paired with the wine, your head feels thick, your tongue thicker.

A few moments pass, and as the revelation of his virginity settles into your stomach like seltzer water, you realise… it makes sense. Nanami wasn’t the type to use someone for sex, even if eager. He’d only have sex with someone he was in love with. Someone he trusted at the very least.

And Nanami, as he had told you and a few others before, refused to entertain the thought of love whilst he was a sorcerer. No one with two working brain cells needed to ask why. He wasn’t alone in that choice, either.

You toy with the stem of your wineglass whilst you toy with a reoccurring thought in your mind, one that you entertained often, but had yet to voice aloud.

“You shouldn’t keep depriving yourself, Kento,” you say quietly. The use of his first name, rarely used in your adulthood, garners you a glance from him. It’s a small sign that you’re taking this seriously.

“I’m not deprived of anything.”

You scoff at that, small and quiet. “You deprive yourself of a lot, apart from pain,” you drawl, setting your wine glass down on the coffee table. Like always, the wine and Nanami’s masochistic tendencies have your tongue loosening more than it should. “I understand not wanting to have sex with anyone you’re not in a committed relationship with. It’s kind of… admirable, and definitely you.” You fold your arms across your chest, fixing him with a stare that he still refuses to meet head-on. “But why deny yourself the chance of love?”

In the back of your mind somewhere is a voice chanting ‘hypocrite’, but you ignore it. Nanami, however, does not.

He finally turns his head to face you, the lines underneath his eyes seemingly heavier in the dim light of his apartment. An eyebrow arches. “And meaningless sex is different?”

You scoff again, louder this time. “It’s not meaningless just because I don’t love my partner.”

“Or even know their name?”

You raise a sharp eyebrow, your own lips now pressing into a thin line. A part of you wants to retort, to snap, but you remember the vulnerability in his face from a few moments ago, and you just about hold your tongue.

With an exhale, you grab the half-empty wine bottle off of the coffee table instead and gesture for Nanami to hold out his glass. He does, and the glug of the wine fills the space between you.

“You ever thought about it?” You ask, filling up your own glass. In your peripheral, you see him sit quietly for a moment before he nods his head.

“I’m only human.”

You hum. “You should experience it,” you add. You swirl the wine in your glass once before bringing it up to your lips. “Even once. Even if it means nothing.”

With one glance, you can tell immediately that the idea doesn’t sit right with him. It was easy to forget sometimes how rigid and traditional he could be. Formalities that few seemed to care about these days. Always on the things you least expected.

“I couldn’t,” Nanami replies, shaking his head.

Oddly, you feel the desire to insist. Days of a sorcerer were short, and getting shorter every year. Younger than yourself and Nanami had already died long before they would ever have the opportunity to touch another, kiss another; to feel the warmth of a body against your own. They would never know what that distinct pleasure was like, even if they desperately wanted to. Time was infinite to the young, until it wasn’t.

It occurs to you quickly that you’re thinking of Haibara, and everything you and Nanami had experienced that he never would.

Something must show in your expression because Nanami raises an eyebrow at you. You swallow, before setting your glass back down on the coffee table with a dull clink. You look at him, your face surprisingly collected and casual for what you’re about to ask.

“What about me?”

Nanami’s questioning look only deepens for a moment, before something passes by his eyes. His lips part, his version of a falter. You know he knows what you’re implying, but still, he asks, “…what about you?”

“What if we had sex?” You say without hesitation. “You know me. You trust me.”

Nanami falters further. He straightens in his seat, his glass resting on his thigh, the thick muscle straining against his slacks. His whole body is thick with a tension you usually only see before a fight with a particularly highly graded curse. A vein protrudes from his neck.

His eyes flick between your face and your own glass, clearly wondering if it is time to call this night done, but you rise from your seat before he can, taking a small step toward the couch he’s sitting on.

You sit down next to him, a little closer than you usually might. He doesn’t move away. Your thigh brushes against his, and this close, you can hear his breath hitch in response.

“I’m not going to push this any further, Kento,” you say quietly, “but I’m letting you know it’s an option.”

Although you and Kento were hardly affectionate with one another like most friends, you decided to take a chance tonight. You had already taken several, what was one more?

Reaching out, you take his glass from his hand and set it next to yours on the coffee table. Hesitating only a moment, you place your hand on top of his, your fingers curling around until your fingertips touch his palm.

His hand is stiff and warm underneath your own. The bones and knuckles press against your skin.

Something in the back of your mind is wondering why you’re pushing this at all. Would it matter if Nanami died without experiencing the pleasures of the body, really? Would the world stop turning for either of you? You know if Nanami really wanted to, if he felt the want, the desire - then he could leave this apartment right now and find someone willing, someone other than you. He could have done so years ago, during those few years he had masqueraded as a normal human being with a nine-to-five.

You were risking a friendship over… what? The implied hopes and dreams of a dead fifteen-year-old? Haibara was dead. It didn’t matter to him whether Nanami experienced the things he never could.

Nanami’s gaze flickers between your eyes for a moment, and this close, you can see the faint traces of the wine staining his lips. Your gaze must linger for a touch too long because his tongue swipes across his bottom lip. The pink skin glistens with the faint glimmer of his saliva.

When you look up, you see his eyes trained on your own lips, before they quickly flick back up to meet your eyes.

“We’re friends,” he murmurs, his voice low, slightly thick.

“And we always will be,” you reply.

He glances down at your hands. Somewhere between your own thoughts and Nanami’s reiteration of your friendship, your hands had interlocked, fingers intertwined like vines. He was gripping your hand a little too tightly to be comfortable, but you didn’t flinch.

You’re not sure whether it had been your subconscious doing, or his.

“I… can’t,” Nanami mutters finally, closing his eyes for a moment. “Not like this. Not… now.”

Something clenches in your heart at his rejection, although you had expected it. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s denying you, or himself.

You smile softly nonetheless and nod. “If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me,” you say quietly, going to pull your hand from his grip and give him some space.

Only he doesn’t let go. If anything, his grip tightens slightly.

Your eyes flick between his hand and his eyes, still trained on your face. You raise an eyebrow, your lips parting to speak, but he beats you to it.

“But I’d like to kiss you.”

Something resembling a very quiet ‘uh’ pushes past your lips in a long exhale.

You’re not sure why the idea of kissing him felt more… intimate than the fact that you had offered your body to him only seconds prior. You’re not sure why there’s a prickle of heat at the back of your neck or your lips burn with a sudden need.

“Nanam-“

As if remembering himself, he shakes his head slightly, blinking away whatever stupor had just possessed him. He looks away, his grip on your hand loosening, but not quite pulling away.

“I… don’t know why I said that,” he mumbles. “You should go-“

Your free hand is already gripping his chin, turning his face toward yours a little too sharply. A subtle grunt leaves his throat as he looks at you, his gaze foggier than usual. From the wine, you, or the whole situation? Who knows.

Fingers against his neck, feeling the quickened thrum of his pulse, your thumb brushes against his chin, pulling the skin until his lips naturally part. You feel Nanami’s shaky exhale against your lips as you lean forward, warmth breath mingling with yours, the scent of wine heavy on the air.

You close the distance slowly, giving him time to stop this, to pull or push away. To draw an end to this nonsense before it went any further.

Instead of pulling back or pushing you away, he closes the gap so quickly your noses almost bump together.

The first press of his lips against you feels hurried and unsure. It’s off-center slightly, barely hitting the corner of your mouth, but Nanami is quick to correct it. He slots his lips against yours more firmly the second time, his lips parting to capture yours fully. You feel a rush of air against your cheek as he exhales through his nose.

The kiss is unhurried, curious almost, yet there’s a subtle urgency in it that surprises you. Your free hand moves from his chin to his jaw, fingertips softly caressing the sharp curve of it. The sound and feel of his sigh against your lips makes you shiver, and you become enamoured with it.

Enamoured with him.

You part your lips further, your tongue swiping against his bottom lip, finally tasting the remnants of the wine that you had spotted earlier. An odd sound builds at the back of his throat before his mouth parts too, his tongue brushing against yours.

Something changes quickly then. His hand, larger than you ever really noticed, cups the back of your neck, his calloused thumb pressing against your jaw, drawing you closer. Your other hands, still intertwined, seem to tighten around one another like a snake's coils. The wet smacks of your lips grow louder in the quiet of his apartment, just about overriding the sound of increasingly ragged breaths, borderline panting.

Your head feels thick. Dizzy. The kiss is indulgent, almost sloppy now. Nanami’s tongue is in your mouth, exploring every crevice, tasting you with an eagerness you hadn’t thought he was capable of. Every time you brush your tongue against his, your taste buds wetly sliding against his own, a small sound rumbles in the back of his throat, somewhere between a groan and grumble.

After a moment that feels like an eternity too short, you pull back slightly, just enough to see his eyes as you open yours. Nanami denies you this, however, because when you open your eyes, his are still closed, almost scrunched. A faint frown tugs at his brow.

He leans forward until his forehead rests against yours. The heat of his skin against yours feels searing, your noses softly brushing against one another’s. He sighs deeply, as if pulled from the back of his chest. It almost sounds like defeat.

“Kento-“

“I want you,” he breathes out, and your voice almost hitches as you feel rather than hear his voice. It’s a deep, husky sound, more rumble than syllable. But there’s a crack in his tone belying a raw vulnerability that you weren’t familiar with. Not from him.

His eyes finally open, looking up at you from underneath his brow. His hazel eyes are almost black, you realise, the familiar colour you’ve always admired swallowed up by a sea of coal. You wonder if yours are the same.

He’s trembling too. You can feel his fingertips shake where they press against the nape of your neck.

“I thought you didn’t want… this,” you murmur. ‘Sex’ suddenly feels too…

“I changed my mind,” he replies, a touch too quickly for you to believe that he was thinking clearly.

But God, did you want him too. You want him so fucking bad it almost makes you ache. Your feelings toward Nanami had always been friendly, respectful. He had been your closest friend, your ally, your confidant. You had been through so much together. You liked him, every part.

And somewhere along the way, between the four years apart as he pursued a different life and the first time you had hugged him when he finally returned, Gojo grinning over his shoulder… you think, that like had changed to love.

It quickly occurs to you that you weren’t pushing Nanami to experience sex for fear of him missing out. That was you. You were scared of missing out on him.

It’s that revelation that makes you pull back slightly, and Nanami’s eyes widen a little, some of the hazy fog clearing. His hand slides from the back of your neck, falling limply against the couch next to your thigh.

“I… I shouldn’t have put you in this position,” you mutter, glancing away, staring at the two wine glasses on the coffee table before looking back at him. “It’s your choice. Your first time should be on your terms, not because I think you’re missing out or depriving yourself.”

You go to remove your hand from his, but once again, his grip tightens, but there’s a tenderness to it this time. A gentle squeeze, almost begging you not to go. Not yet.

He looks serious now, staring at you squarely, as if about to deliver a mission report, and its the first familiar expression you’ve seen on his face thus far. He swallows thickly, the only thing belying his hesitation.

“I said I couldn’t have a one-night stand.”

You frown. “And th-“

“I don’t want this to be a one-night stand.”

Some of the breath flees your lungs as you look at him. His lips are still pink and slightly swollen from kissing, his cheeks still slightly flushed from the wine and your touch. You become distinctly aware of the scent of his cologne, faded but warm from his skin. It’s soft, smoky almost. You have the urge to bury his nose in the crook of his neck and breathe.

You know what he’s trying to say, what he’s trying to ask. You know what he wants because you want it too. You realise you’ve wanted it for a long damn time.

Words fail you. They feel… inadequate to describe what you’re feeling, what you desire, what you’ve always desired buried down underneath the guilt and trauma.

But you still can’t bring yourself to say it out loud. Not here. Not yet.

And neither can he.

You’re not sure who makes the first move, all you know is that your lips are pressed against his and he moans into your mouth as if something had finally let go. It’s like a cork had finally been released, a lifetime of pent-up feelings pouring out in one gush.

His hand is back at the nape of your neck, holding you tightly this time, unwilling to let go. His lips part more readily with every press, his tongue seeking yours with a pinpoint determination. You skip his jaw this time altogether, aiming straight for his hair that you’ve been dying to touch since… you don’t know when.

The hand that had been holding yours hostage finally releases, only so his fingers can brush against your waist. His fingers brush against your ribs through your clothes, tugging you closer until you’re rising up onto your knees on the couch just to oblige. He’s tilting back, his broad shoulders bumping against the couch cushions behind him - and it’s only distantly you register it’s because you’re pushing him back against it.

Something shouts at you in the back of your mind to take your time, to savour this, to savour him. You may want each other badly, but this is Nanami’s first time. It should be done carefully, respectfully, the way he would treat you if this position had been reversed.

But then Nanami’s hand has moved from your waist to your thigh, blindly grabbing it as he pulls it over his lap. Before you know it, you’re straddling his hips with a huff against his lips, and something like a sharp, pained groan leaves his lips.

You pull away from his lips with a ragged breath, concern knitting your brow until you realise what the cause of his groan was.

Straddling him, you can feel the pulse of his desire underneath you, the hard ridge of the bulge in his pants pressing insistently against your core through your own clothes. One hand is grabbing your hip tightly, almost too tight, as his forehead rests against your shoulder. The other hand is on your thigh, his thumb digging into the plush flesh there.

His breathing is ragged, extremely so. Hot puffs fall against your skin. You weave your fingers through his hair softly, and you watch with reverence as a strong shudder rolls down his spine in response.

“We can stop, if you’d like,” you murmur against his ear, going to rise up on your knees to give him a little breathing room.

“Don’t,” he grunts, the grip on your hip and thigh quickly stopping you. He exhales again, a shaky sound as he keeps his forehead stamped against your shoulder. His voice emerges again, barely audible, slightly pained. “...I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Your grip in his hair tightens in response. In a flood, memories of him rush through your mind. A thousand different glances, subtle touches, small clues. Even in school, the way he would linger, a touch closer every time Suguru or Satoru would appear. The hand at the bottom of your back in a restaurant. The way he would lean in to hear you in a crowded place.

The way his arms had tightened around you when he had returned after four years away. I missed you too, almost inaudible against your ear.

Nanami didn’t want a one-night stand. What was the point of sex at all, if it wasn’t with you?

The thought has you rolling your hips down against his before you can stop yourself, feeling the firm length of his cock grind against your core. A moan leaves your lips, and something guttural leaves his.

The hand on your thigh moves up to your other hip, pulling you down tighter against him as if he could slide inside you right now. “Don’t tease,” he hisses between clenched teeth. He turns his head slightly, his lips brushing against your neck. He leaves a searing, open-mouthed kiss against your pulse point. “Not now, not after this long.”

“You think you’re the only one who waited?” You pant as you grind again, firmer this time. His hips buck against yours in response, a muffled groan leaving his lips, imprinted against your neck. You can feel his cock throb against you, twitching against the fabric that separates you.

“…you wanted this too?” He breathes out after a moment.

You nod, though you doubt he can see it from the way his face is buried against the crook of your neck. “Since you came back. Since you hugged me back and said you missed me.”

His hands move from your hips to wrap tightly around your waist as if he couldn’t bear for a single slither of space to be left between you two. His hips jut up against you once again, a ragged breath leaving his lips. It seems the idea of you wanting him for so long the same as he had the same effect on him as it had on you. If not more.

He holds you a little tighter, running the sharp point of his nose along your throat as he tilts his head up. Finally, finally, he breaks free of your neck to look up at you, lips parted, eyes almost desperate.

With a thick swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing, he goes to say something but falters, and murmurs your name instead. His dark eyes flick between your eyes and your lips. His cock twitches underneath you.

“Please,” is all he can croak out, and the moan that almost leaves your lips would have been primal.

You nod your head, giving his shoulders a small squeeze, pushing him back slightly. He seems reluctant to let go, but finally relents after a little insistence, reclining back against the couch. His arms unwind and his hands drop to your hips. He looks up at you, clearly waiting for your lead.

You sit back slightly on his parted thighs, the muscles firm and supportive underneath you. Letting your hands fall from his shoulders, you drag your fingertips slowly down over the expanse of his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his wrinkled shirt. As your fingers skate over his abdomen, you feel the muscles flex and roll. Nanami looks at you readily.

“We should do this properly,” you murmur, your eyes trained on the lower buttons of his shirt, near the waistband of his slacks. “In a bed.”

Nanami, to your surprise, shakes his head quickly, giving your hips a small squeeze. “We’ve waited long enough.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t disagree. Despite the need, the ache, the pulse of your own core, you can’t help but think of if the positions were reversed. The image of candles, roses and soft music fills your mind, Nanami’s guiding hands and murmured praises. It would be slow and romantic. Perfect.

“Nanami,” you breathe out, almost chastising. With the way his cock is pressing against you, you have no doubt he’s not thinking clearly right now; the thought of having what he had wanted for so long within his grasp clouding rational thought.

He shakes his head again, a lock of his mussed hair tickling his brow. “Next time.” He shifts, sliding down the couch a little more and spreading his thighs - and in turn, spreading yours. He grips your hips tighter, pulling you a little closer until you’re seated right on top of him. “Next time,” he repeats in a groan. “We’ll go slow. I’ll explore every inch of you, taste you. Now, I just want…” He exhales an unsteady breath, sounding like your name. “I just want you.”

Your fingers linger near his shirt's lower button, and one of Nanami’s hands unclasps itself from your hip to gently grasp your wrist. He guides your fingertips to the belt buckle, the metal cool against your hot fingers.

You meet his eyes once more, and his gaze is a paradox of firmness and vulnerability. He’s nervous, you think, but ready. Almost desperately so.

Without another word, your other hand reaches down to join your other one, and your fingers are surprisingly deft as you slide the leather through the metal. Nanami watches your hands with rapt attention until the belt is loose. Your fingers slide over the metal button of his slacks, and you don’t check in this time. You pop it open before sliding his zipper down, the crackle of the metal teeth as loud as a gunshot between you.

A small sigh of what you think is relief leaves his lips as the fabric parts, giving you a small glimpse of the dark boxers underneath, straining over his cock. A small wet patch blooms at the top, wear his tip would be, and a shudder runs through you.

Your fingers tuck into the waistband of his underwear, lingering for a moment. You look up at him at the same time he looks up at you. Without a sound, Nanami lifts his hips and you rise up to your knees.

With a few firm tugs, you manage to inch his slacks and boxers down enough to free him. A small huff leaves his lips as the cooler air of the apartment hits his overheated flesh, and you watch in rapt attention as his cock twitches, the flushed tip glistening already.

It’s longer than you expected. Thicker too. Uncut. A prominent vein runs up the underside of it, and you have the sudden urge to follow it with your finger, or your tongue.

Nanami shifts underneath you, and you realise you’ve been staring a touch too long.

You pull your eyes away from his cock to meet his eyes, and his breathing seemed to have quickened. Anticipation is making him stiff, almost antsy, a rare sight on a man you’ve rarely ever seen anything of other than composed.

It’s endearing.

Reaching down, you satisfy your own urge and run your fingertip up his shaft, following the vein, feeling it pulse steadily to the rhythm of his heart. Nanami’s hips twitch, his eyelids fluttering. Dark eyelashes tickle his cheeks.

When you curl your fingers around him, gripping him firmly at the base, his eyes shoot open, snapping to the sight of him in your palm. You give him one pull upwards, and a bead of pre-cum wells in the divot of his slit.

“Fuck,” comes out in a very quiet, gruff choke. Your eyebrows rise in surprise, a small smile on your lips. Nanami didn’t always curse, and especially not like that.

“Language, Nanami,” you tease, and his eyes flick up to you, something indignant and impatient in his eyes. You usually weren’t one to tease, and he wasn’t one to be teased.

You continue to stroke him slowly for a moment, rubbing your thumb against the sensitive tip. You fingers quickly become tacky, the glide of your hand more fluid, until the lewd wet noise starts to rise to the same level as Nanami’s breathing. He grunts with every upward stroke, his hips twitching underneath you. Had it not been for your weight on top of him, you get the distinct feeling he’d be bucking up into your palm a little more eagerly. His head falls back against the couch, lips parted, his eyes fluttering closed once more as he relaxes more into the sensation.

It occurs to you that you’ve seldom seen Nanami this relaxed.

“Are you sure you want to do this here?” you ask, “with me on top?”

He nods but doesn’t open his eyes. His hands run up from your hips to your waist, a soft caress. “It’ll be… easier for me- hah-“ Another choked groan leaves his lips as you give the head of his cock a small squeeze, and Nanami’s hand flies to your wrist in a blink, stopping you from making another move.

You feel his cock throbbing in your grasp, and Nanami’s straight-up panting now, his eyes slightly wild as he tilts his head up to look at you. It’s an arousing reality to know that you had just pushed Nanami dangerously close to the edge without even meaning to.

“I won’t last,” he murmurs, looking up at you, his eyes shining.

You realise quickly that he’s actually asking a question. Are you sure?

“This time,” you reply with a small smile. With his hand still around your wrist, you give his cock another squeeze, and he grits his teeth, that vein in his neck protruding once more. You can see the taut muscles in his abdomen flexing from where his shirt has bunched up.

As much as the idea of making Nanami cum, right here, right now, appeals to you, you relent for now. You’d love nothing more than to watch him spill into your palm, to see the euphoria and bliss play out on his face… but that was for another time. The next time, perhaps.

You release his cock, letting it fall back against his lower stomach with a dull smack, making him hiss through his teeth. Leaning forward, you brush your lips against his throat, nipping at the skin softly.

You guide his hands to the waistband of your own bottoms, and he wastes little time in following your unspoken order. The press of your lips against his throat clearly distracts him, but he manages to pull down your clothes enough to leave you in your underwear. You kick them off the sofa haphazardly, not leaving his neck for a single moment.

He catches you off guard when his hand immediately dives for your sex, cupping your heat through the dampened fabric. You stutter against his neck, gripping onto his shoulders for support in response.

Your eyelids close, goosebumps erupting across your skin as you feel just how wet you are. “Nanami,” you gasp.

“Kento,” he whispers quickly. Once, then twice, he rubs his palm along your clothed pussy, something guttural building in the back of his throat as you buck down into his touch. “You’re… so wet.”

The wet spot on the fabric clings tightly to your folds, doing very little to dampen the sensation of his touch. His fingers are exploratory, a tentativeness that belies his lack of experience with this, but his touch, the fact it’s him, here and now, makes up for it all.

You can’t remember the last time you enjoyed a touch such as this. Not like this.

Despite toying with Nanami’s cock until he almost burst, hypocritical impatience gets the better of you, and you remove your hand from his shoulders to tug down your own underwear, kicking it off to join the growing pile on the floor. Bare from the waist down, Nanami’s eyes roam over the exposed skin almost hungrily.

Both calloused hands run up your thighs, pressing into the soft flesh slightly. You see his hand move for your pussy once more, but your fingers are curling back around his cock again before he can distract you.

Next time, keep parroting in your mind. Next time you can both endure hours of foreplay; touching, kissing, tasting, the whole nine yards. You promise to make him cry out before he even sinks inside you, to run your tongue along every inch of his skin until you’re sick of the taste of him. You’d know he’d do the same.

But you two had waited long enough.

Gripping the base of his cock again, you brush it up against your heat, your own slick smearing across him. Nanami’s eyes almost roll back into his head, but he closes his lids before you witness it. You’re faring little better, the mere sensation of having him against you like this, the tip of his cock rubbing up against your clit sending you dizzy. You angle your hips, and just feeling the thick head press against the tight, slick ring of muscle is enough for a moan to already tumble past your lips.

Something flickers in Nanami’s gaze as he opens his eyes again, honing in on the sight of you braced above him like this. He grips your hips, his touch light, merely supporting you for now. You look back once into his eyes, and go to check in just once more, but he leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s little more than teeth and raw need.

His lips pressed against yours, you sink down, the wider head of his cock slipping inside you. Your lips part in a soundless gasp against his mouth, swallowing the ragged groan that leaves his throat. The stretch is slightly more than you’re prepared for. Distantly, you think, skipping foreplay wasn’t the wisest idea, but desperation, need, pushes you forward regardless.

So you sink down further, inch by inch, and as he slides deeper and deeper, his grip on your hips grows tighter and tighter, until the force of his fingers dulls the ache of his cock kissing your cervix.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp as you finally bottom out, hips sitting on top of his. You realise you’re breathless, and that cowgirl might not have been the best position for taking someone of his size. Certainly not in one go, like you just had.

Nanami is fairing no better. His mouth is agape, his biceps trembling where he clings to you. He seems dazed, winded, panting into your mouth as his arms wind against you. He pulls you forward, and you both moan as his cock seems to slide just that little bit deeper.

You’re dizzy, strained, stretched out far more than you can ever remember being before. Your eyes are scrunched closed, your forehead knocking against his. Everything feels distant and muffled. It takes you a moment to realise Nanami’s muttering something repeatedly in fragmented gasps.

When you open your eyes, he’s looking at you almost panicked, his eyebrows knitted upward. His teeth are bared, gritted - and it’s now you notice that you’re clenching around him so tight that you’re not sure if you’re causing him more discomfort than pleasure.

You swallow thickly, trying to catch your breath. You’re flushed, prickly heat blooming across your chest and neck. You shift a little, and something pained rumbles from the back of Nanami’s chest in response.

“Do you want me to stop or-“

“Don’t,” he grunts, his fingers shaking against your back. “Don’t move.”

The throb of his cock inside you is insistent, and it takes everything in you not to clench tighter around him in response. You know he’s close, dangerously close, and as much as you want to rise up on your knees and slam yourself down on his cock until he’s begging you to stop, you clench your jaw and relax.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, kissing his skin softly; small pecks and affectionate touches. He shivers, and his cock still pulses, but slowly, muscle by muscle, he relaxes too, ragged pants dissolving into hot, muted breaths. His arms around you loosen, holding now, not gripping.

“Tell me when you want me to move,” you whisper against his ear, pressing a small kiss to the lobe.

He nods, brushing his cheek against yours with a soft sigh. His hand moves from your back upward, until he cups the back of your head, drawing your lips back to his. It’s a soft kiss, loving; slow and sensual slides of wet skin mingling with gentle exhales. Before you know it, and before he says, you’re rolling your hips greedily, just grinding against him for now.

A guttural sound leaves his lips. His forehead feels hot and sticky pressed against yours like this, a strand of his hair tickling your cheek.

You feel his thighs shift, widening as far as the slacks still around his thighs can allow, feet planted more firmly into the carpet. The first roll of his hips is disjointed, off rhythm with your own, but the slight drag of his cock against your walls has you moaning brokenly. The second roll, a little more confident, has you pressing your hips down to meet it, and your back arches like a cat.

“Fuck yes,” you moan, your voice thick and throaty. You moan his name, wait for the third shallow thrust, and meet it. “You feel so fucking good.”

He looks up at you like you hung the stars, his eyes widening at the sound of his name tumbling past your lips like a fractured halo. He loses his rhythm, but you soon pick it back up for him, starting to use your thighs to slide more eagerly down his cock. It’s still shallow, Nanami’s arms around your waist preventing you from really going for it, but you’re unwilling to part from the closeness for now.

You bounce a few inches at a time, the dull clap of your hips and the lewd squelch of your hot cunt wrapped tight around him filling the air of the apartment. With each bounce, a grunt pushes out from his chest, hot breath fanning across your face.

Nanami, though inexperienced, starts to let his body guide him. His hips buck up to meet you more confidently, and the growing force of his movements has you keening, fingernails biting into his shoulders.

You look square into his hooded eyes, breath mingling, and see the flush across his skin, his lips glistening with saliva. You moan again, higher pitched this time, and Nanami’s next thrust has you jolting up a little, nose bumping against his. You clench around him again, and his brow knits together.

“S-Shit,” he pants, his hips starting to jolt more readily, pushing a little too forcefully into you, quickly losing his rhythm. “I’m not… I’m not going to last…” His movements quicken, grow more erratic, and you’re not even sure he realises. “… you’re so fucking… tight.”

The last part is little more than a throaty whisper, his voice cracking. You stop meeting his thrusts and instead, widen your stance, tighten your core, and let him take what he needs. The movement, though small, isn’t lost on him, and he looks up at you, emotion swimming heavily in his dark gaze.

He thrusts up grow more erratic, sloppier, something like a grunt leaving his mouth with every dull thwap of his hips against your ass. His arms tighten around you, fingertips pressing into your skin. A groan, a hiss, and a swallow. The couch creaks and strains.

“N-Next time - hah - next time… I want t-to feel you cum around me,” he pants, his arms starting to shake. “I’ll give you everything, anything, fuck, I-I’ll keep going until… until… God-“

He’s barely pulling out now, a mere inch is all he’s moving, the head of his cock bullying against the soft spot right next to your cervix. Choked, high-pitch moans are the only sounds you can make, and you distantly note you’ve never sounded like before. Not ever.

You’re getting there, you realise. Not quite close, and definitely not as close as him, but the way his cock fits inside you, the slap of his hips against you, the way he’s looking at you… it’s pushing you there fast.

But it’s not quite enough.

“I’m close,” he gasps. “I… where…”

“Inside,” you reply without hesitation. Something passes by his eyes, a small flicker of concern, perhaps, swimming in the sea of lust and arousal. You try to find your bearings enough to tell him it’s okay, you wouldn’t have taken him inside if you weren’t protected-

-but then his cock is twitching inside you, and Nanami is shaking, shaking underneath you, his thighs jolting, nearly bucking you off his lap altogether.

With one last slam of his hips against you, buried as deep as he could possibly ago, a long, primal groan leaves him. It’s deep, visceral, easily mistaken for something pained - and it might be the most divine fucking sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

He buries his face against your throat as his hips buck involuntarily a few times, and you shiver as you feel that familiar warmth bloom inside you. He’s giving you everything, or what feels like it. Your pussy flutters around him, and his fingertips press into you so tight you wouldn’t be surprised to see bruises.

His heart is hammering against your chest, the thump pounding even in your own chest. Ragged pants and a heavy quiet settles over the living room. His cock continues to twitch inside you, growing weaker with every thud of his heart.

Nanami doesn’t pull his head from your throat for a long while, his nose pressing into your skin as he pants against you.

After a moment, he finally swallows. “… I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I… I should have made you-“

“Shut up,” you murmur against his warm hair, breathing in the faint scent of sweat and his shampoo. He seems to get the picture, of what you were trying to say. He always did. “Next time,” you add anyway, just to be sure.

He lifts his head from your skin, looking up at you blearily. You smile fondly as you see his face again, the harsh lines on his brow and his eyes smoother now, no longer creased as they always seemed to be. He looks… so much younger, you think, like this. Relaxed. Sated.

You brush some of his sweaty hair out of his face, and his eyelids flutter at the brief contact. He seems exhausted, you think.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs as he looks up at you. “I don’t want this to…” His palm moves against your back, sliding down your spine. “I want you. Properly. I always have.” He swallows. “Always.”

Your eyes soften. He looks at you expectantly, almost vulnerably.

“You have me,” you murmur in reply, finally. “Properly.”

A small smile tugs at his lips, and it’s warmer than you’ve ever seen before. Genuine. Light. It’s as if a decade of weight lifts from his broad shoulders, if only briefly.

He pulls you close once more, his lips pressing against yours softly, lovingly, and the world seems to fade away.

For now, of course.

masterlist.

#nanami x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #kento nanami x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #nanami #kento nanami

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thebirdsandthebats · 10 months

Text

Tim’s family thinks he can cook really well.

He didn’t mean for this to go so far. It had been a misunderstanding by a well-meaning Dick the last time he was in Gotham and stopped by the boat to visit. Tim had reheated some leftovers in his fridge from the night before, and Dick’s eyes lit up the moment Tim set the plates down.

“Wow, that looks amazing,” he’d commented. Tim, exhausted from a long patrol and preoccupied with dread of having to wake up early, had merely agreed. Of course Bernard’s cooking looked amazing. He was almost as big on presentation as he was on flavor.

“Yeah. Tastes even better.”

What he didn’t realize was that Dick had assumed he made the food. Which wouldn’t have been a problem if not for the fact that Dick loved to brag on his siblings. The next week, Stephanie stopped by unannounced to visit.

“I can’t believe how much you like it here. In a good way, obviously,” she’d grinned while Tim heated up some of the french onion soup that his boyfriend had made him. Tim laughed as he used a terry cloth to handle the hot bowl, placing it down in front of Steph.

He sat next to her with his own bowl. The random visits were odd. But on the bright side, the need to be a good host was kind of forcing him to eat on a more normal schedule. Two birds, one stone he guessed.

“Yeah. I like the marina a lot,” he blew lightly on his spoonful, the soup still steaming hot. “The atmosphere is so different from anywhere I’ve lived. I think being around the marina folk has been good for me—”

“Ohmygod.”

Tim looked over, startled by the outburst. Steph was staring at her soup with wide eyes. Her hand covered her mouth. Tim’s brows drew close together in confusion. “Are you okay? Did you burn your tongue?”

Steph grabbed his shoulder in a firm grip. “You’ve been holding out on us!” She accused.

“Wh—”

“You’ve been sticking to easy foods when you cook at the manor, but here you have the good stuff!” Tim frowned at her words. The realization was beginning to sink in. Did she think he made the soup? He knew how to cook, but he was nowhere near his boyfriend’s level. Bernard was literally in school to be a chef. He liked to practice his assignments at Tim’s boat, suffering through using his poor excuse for a kitchen all so he could leave Tim with the food when it was finished.

Tim opened his mouth to break the news to Steph, but their phones rang out with the high pitched drone that meant someone needed backup. Stephanie sighed. She lifted the bowl and downed all she could in a few swallows before leaping to her feet. “Job never ends, huh?” She offered Tim a hand up, and he took it without hesitation.

“Nope. Let’s suit up.”

After that night, Tim forgot to correct her. He was busy, and his family getting the wrong idea about his cooking abilities just didn’t make the top of his priority list. Bernard kept cooking when he spent nights over, and family kept dropping by on other nights, somehow never crossing paths. Tim’s neighbors seemed perplexed on how he’d gone from only ever letting his boyfriend in to having company every other night. And Tim just…couldn’t find the right moment to set the record straight.

Everything came to a head in the summer, not too long after Tim’s birthday. He was sprawled out on his couch, head resting in Bernard’s lap as the blonde’s fingers scratched lightly at his scalp. It was the lazy kind of day they didn’t often get to spend together, and Tim was feeling warm and drowsy. That was, until his phone dinged with several text notifications, and he dug it out with a grumble to see who needed him.

stop spamming the gc

Dick: it’s august .. here we go

Steph: birthday month babey!!

Duke: my wallet…

Cass: Dami, Jason, Steph, and Duke all get the bday cake in their contact names :)

Steph: Tim I know you’re lurking. for the birthday month we all want you to bring GOOD FOOD TO THE FUNCTION PLS AND TY

Damian: do not forget my dietary restrictions if you do so.

Steph: you text like you’re 84

Tim groaned and let his phone clatter to the floor. Bernard’s fingers paused in his hair. “Bad news?” He asked, concern painting his voice.

Tim shook his head and scrubbed at his face with his hands. “Not really. It’s just—um. You know how you always leave food here for me?” He tilted his head back to look Bernard in the face, and his breath caught for a moment when he saw that his boyfriend was already looking down at him.

He snickered at Tim’s expression. “Yeah? Do you need more?” He asked. Tim was baffled by the question. His fridge hadn’t been empty in ages, and even with his frequent guests, Bernard made such large portions that it took him days to finish a dish. He had more than enough.

“No, it isn’t that. My family…” he hesitated, wondering how dumb this was going to sound. But Bernard was waiting, watching him expectantly, and these days he’d started filling in the gaps himself whenever Tim’s words trailed off thoughtfully. If he didn’t finish speaking quickly, Bernard would have an entirely new problem invented.

“…um, they think I can cook.”

Bernard burst out laughing.

Tim’s face burned pink. “Wh—hey,” he complained at the reaction. “I know how to cook, why are you laughing?”

Bernard wiped the corner of his eye, giggling like a maniac. “Sorry, sorry! You said that like you were coming out to me, and also I’ve seen you sauté,” he managed, and Tim rolled his eyes at the memory. He had sautéed just fine…mostly.

When Bernard was finished laughing at him and had caught his breath again, Tim explained his situation and showed him the texts. He raised an eyebrow. “Jeez. Four August birthdays? And they expect you to cook for all of them?”

Tim sighed. “Yeah. I could just tell them they’ve got the wrong guy, but now it’s birthday month and we’ve gotta plan quick.” It was actually a very rare occurrence that they got together for every birthday in August. Their schedules were so unpredictable. But all 4 was the goal.

Bernard chewed his lip in consideration. “Okay. What if…you give me a list of each of their favorite foods and any restrictions, and I’ll make the food.” He proposed. Tim sat up, turning to face the blonde fully now.

That was way too much work for somebody already cooking for assignments. Plus, Tim didn’t want to pretend he was the one cooking anymore. He said as much to Bernard, who refused to look fazed.

“First off, I can cook 4 meals in my free time. Easy. And second off, I guess you’ll just have to bring me with you to clear up any misunderstandings,” he grinned.

Tim perked up instantly. That was…a perfect solution, actually. Everything would be cleared up, he wouldn’t have to show up without what was expected of him, and the best part, he’d get to bring Bernard with him. He’d been itching to start working his boyfriend into more of his family’s meetups because it was looking like their relationship was pretty serious. He wanted to be able to bring him to their holidays, parties, and dinners. This was a perfect opportunity to start.

He leaned in and kissed Bernard’s cheek. It would never cease to amuse him how a real kiss on the lips was nothing to his boyfriend, but Tim kissing his face always had him turning red.

“Oh.” Bernard touched his face. “You have a crush on me or something?” He teased weakly, and Tim laughed as he settled back down on the couch, his head resting in Bernard’s lap as his fingers found his hair again.

A week later, Tim showed up to the manor with Bernard following close behind, a pan of vegan chili noodles in his arms. Dick opened the door. He beamed once he saw Tim.

“Hey! C’mon, everyone is already inside, so if you brought the food you can…” he trailed off as he finally spotted Bernard behind Tim, who was fighting to keep a straight face. He blinked. “Oh, is this…?”

Bernard carefully balanced the dish in one hand and stretched out the other in greeting. “I’m the chef.” He said with barely contained glee.

The realization seemed to hit Dick all once. His mouth parted in surprise. He glanced back and forth between Tim and Bernard. Finally, he shook his head in disbelief. “You know, this actually makes…so much more sense. Sorry, Tim.”

“Wh—excuse me, what’s that supposed to mean?”

#This was meant to just be a silly post but it got away from me #I HAVENT POSTED A FICLET IN. idk. CENTURIES #ficlet #fic #dc comics #batfamily #tim drake #bernard dowd #timber #timbern #dick grayson #stephanie brown #tim drake robin #td:r

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stealingyourbones · 7 months

Note

Why does DC hate Jason Todd so much??? He's literally Babey!!! 🥺

You probably aren’t me expecting to respond to this factually but fuck it here we go. Because he was a little rat fuck who replaced their favorite Robin character for a shitty carbon copy.

I wasn’t in the comic scene, or alive, when that happened in comics, but Jason originally was a carbon copy of Dick. He grew up in a circus, was in an acrobatic troupe called the Flying Todd’s, and his parents died by the hands of Two-Face.

The next Crisis had his backstory changed but the fans still viewed him as the bad Walmart version of Robin.

(For the readers:)He was a shitty replacement for Dick Grayson that had been Robin for so long and readers didn’t like the new guy taking over the role.

He doesn’t have a memorable Robin stand-alone series, he was uncharacteristically ruthless for a robin, he replaced Dick and didn’t have any of the Grayson charm that made Robin so loveable, he was arrogant at times and bashed in general. People wanted Dick. Not this other guy.

Nowadays why they hate him?

Simple and yet layered reason:

He went from a very wonderful villain in the comics and got later boiled down to an anti hero. Most people I know that dislike Jason now preferred his villain arc. I prefer it too honestly but if we didn’t have anti hero Jason, we wouldn’t have the interactions he has with the batfamily at all and I really enjoy those scenes in the comics.

His characterization is all over too. He goes from absolutely batshit insane in some comics to angsty ninja boy, to essentially a little bit feistier Ric Grayson (I’m so sorry it’s my take DC fans please don’t fight me).

Also, his death was a BIG thing in comics and him coming back ruined the meaning behind his death.

Back in the day there were three deaths in comics that always happened and never changed. They were deaths that grew other characters around them. Those three were:

- Bucky Barnes from Captain America

- Jason Todd from Batman

- Uncle Ben from Spider-Man

Their deaths hold major stepping stones to character arc changes and how the main character acted for the rest of the comics. They were always the main characters greatest tragedy and a core part of their lore.

Of course two of these are now changed. Bucky Barnes is back as the Winter Soldier and Jason is back as Red Hood.

But that death was sacred for a while. For 20 years he was dead. He was Batman’s greatest tragedy. You did not fuck with Batman’s greatest sorrow. And they did it after (incel) Superman Prime punched the universe so hard Jason Todd came back to life.

Additionally, lots of comic writers just don’t fucking want to deal with him. Same with Damian I feel like. They throw both under the bus because they’d rather be writing other characters.

Most of this is my observations but if anyone else has any other comments to add feel free.

#bones replies #DC comics #red hood #Jason Todd

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stevenose · 9 months

Text

don’t delete the kisses - 7/?

landing page

a camboy!steve au

this installment contains: nothing but 5.4k of smut babey. gender unspecified reader; reader with a afab anatomy; reader wears lingerie; very soft sex!!!!; protected piv; brief oral (steve receiving); riding; tenderness; big cock steve harrington

author’s note: thank you for bearing with me!!! here’s our first chapter of many with lots of fucking <3 the series is far from over though 🫶🏻

You’re nervous and shaking as you run around your apartment. Steve’s clearly not one to care about speed limits. You tidy up the sitting room as best as you can before running to your bedroom and throwing your lingerie on again. You make sure you look good - settling, really, wishing you had more time - before laying on your bed, head against the pillow.

door’s unlocked

in bedroom

don’t text and drive

please

Now you’re awkward as your heart hammers under your bra. Unsure of a sexy position to be in. On your back? Your stomach? Not laying down at all? You’d get on your knees but you’re unsure if that’s too forward. He might not even want to do anything. Just kiss and hold hands. He hasn’t touched you since you confessed and the thought of his skin and lips on yours makes you feel dizzy and hazy. You don’t know if you’ll survive his affections.

You hear his car door slam before he texts a quick Here. You choose your back, propping yourself up on pillows, covering yourself with your comforter. You feel sick and excited and you’re still shaking when he opens the door, calling out for you.

“In here,” you call back, your voice shaking, too.

And as he walks in, wearing light grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt, disheveled, your heart stops before pounding again. You swallow as he eyes you, half-panting from his run up the steps. He raced here. Wasted no time.

“Hi,” Steve says finally, still in the doorway.

“Hi,” you answer. “Did you lock the door?”

“Yes,” he says. He looks as uncertain and nervous as you which somewhat calms you down. “Can I-“

He cuts himself off when you slowly push the covers off of you, revealing yourself. He runs a hand through his hair while drinking you in. You equally hate and adore the attention.

“Come here,” you say quietly. “Please.”

He’s crawling over you, heat radiating off of him. You slide down your pillows so you’re laying directly beneath him. Just like you were a few days ago. You lick your lips and grab his arms when he props himself up above you. His eyes are warm and friendly but you feel small under him. Unworthy. Your own eyes trail down his jaw and rest on his neck.

“Did you like the video?”

He laughs and props your chin up so you look at him. “Absolutely. I would’ve been here sooner but… I had to take care of what you did to me.”

A shot of arousal courses through you like white-hot electric. “You should’ve let me handle it.”

Steve’s cheeks are red. “Do you want to?”

“Yeah,” you say immediately. “I want you, remember?”

“Only thing I’ve been thinkin’ about,” he says softly, before pressing his lips to yours.

It’s suffocating, in a good way. He smells like his usual cologne and hairspray, the kind he gets off of eBay because it’s discontinued. His lips are soft and taste like vanilla - it’s Glossier, you know it. He should be an ambassador for them. He’s soft and slow with you, his hand cupping your face while his elbow bares his weight. You’re still holding onto his arms, squeezing them now in an attempt to ground yourself. He giggles and pulls back, kissing slowly along your jaw.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you assure. “Of course.”

“Can feel your heartbeat,” he says, and kisses down to your chest now, resting his ear against it. He pulls away and smiles wide. “You like me or somethin’?”

It takes nothing for him to make you comfortable, to crack a joke and break the tension. You laugh. “Maybe.”

“‘Maybe’?” he repeats, kissing your neck. “What can I do to convince you, hm?”

Your hands snake up to his brunette hair. “Anything you want.”

Steve sighs and sucks on your neck gently. “Do you mind if I mark you up? I won’t if-“

“Please,” you breathe, fingers twisting in his strands as he continues. You shudder when you feel his tongue against the skin of your throat. “Steve.”

“Jesus,” he mumbles, hardly audible. He bites down on a spot that makes you shiver and you gasp, your hips rutting against nothing. “Dreamed about this, y’know.”

Your throat feels tight. “Am I living up to it?”

“You’re better,” he promises, nose running along your skin. “Much more polite.”

“I don’t have to….” You trail off when he sucks the other side of your neck, making your eyes roll back and fingers clench his hair harder.

“It’s cute,” he says hoarsely. He pulls back suddenly to look at you. “You’re gorgeous, you know.”

Your chest heats up to your face. “Stop it.”

“Why?” He’s concerned. “I’ve always thought so. It’s not just because -“

“Steve,” you say. “I’m - just kiss me.”

So he does, soft lips back on yours, his tongue once again searching for a taste of you. “Beautiful,” he says against them, “stunning.”

He shuts you up with another kiss before you can protest again. This time, it’s deep, heavy. You part your lips to taste him and squeeze your thighs together when you do. Kissing is intimate, but his tongue on yours is more so. His taste is more so. It’s vulnerable and delicious and your hands slide down to his back in an effort to keep him pinned to you. Your nails dig into his skin under the cotton of his shirt and he groans into your mouth, kissing you with more fervor. A big, warm palm trails down your side. Your skin pebbles with goosebumps.

“Can I touch you?” he mutters.

You nod. You squirm a bit when his hand travels back up and his fingers play with the underside of your bra. You’re about to pull away to tell him verbally that he can, but he does, cupping you. His fingers now dig into the swell of your breast and it’s enough to make you moan. He palms experimentally at it, then pulls back. “Gotta see them, honey,” he says, the pet name making you heat up more. “Can I?”

“Uh-huh.”

He smiles softly and kisses the tip of your nose, then forehead, before shifting his body down. His eyes are level with your chest and he’s free now to grope at both of your tits, covered in lace and beads. You let your eyes close. You notice now, without his mouth distracting you, that you ache nearly unbearably between the legs.

“You know I’m a tit guy, right?” he says finally.

You giggle. “I’m learning.”

“This is really pretty,” he continues, a thumb rubbing over the embroidery. “Can I get you more like this?”

“Steve.” You want to berate him. “Don’t spend your money on -“

“I’ll spend it on what I want,” he interrupts. “Which is you.”

You half-heartedly roll your eyes. “You do owe me.”

“How much?” he asks, pulling you upright so he can hug you to his chest, his fingers reaching back to the clasp. You strain your neck to kiss his and smile when his fingers fumble.

“Don’t ask.”

You’re back down on your back. You pout. “Let me pay attention to you,” you nearly whine.

“No,” he says simply, hands reaching for the straps, but you stop him, lacing your fingers through his.

“Please.”

He swallows. “I need you.”

“I need you, too.” You lick your lips and whisper, “I’ve been waiting to worship you for months.”

“Oh,” he says softly, and now he’s shaking.

“Can I? I’ll let you see my tits if you let me sit on your lap.”

He grins shyly. You’ve never seen him like this. Like he’s small under your gaze. “Well, I really do want to see them….”

“Will you take your clothes off?” you ask. “Doesn’t seem very fair.”

“I-“

“Not like I’ve never seen you before,” you remind.

He’s afraid of you seeing his scars. You know it. That’s why his focus is always on the lower half of him and hardly ever his torso. But you’ve seen them a few times from the camera, and once when you went swimming with him and Robin after a shift. Even then, he was cagey, only taking his shirt off because it was sticking to him so uncomfortably. He kept himself under the water and threw his clothes back on nearly the moment he exited his pool. You’ve always wanted to ask what they’re from, but you decided it was best not to ask. The extent of them could only mean it was something highly traumatic.

They’re kind of cute, you think, in a messed up way. You watch him take off his shirt, the silver lines exposed. It matches what’s on his neck, but these are more pronounced. You want to kiss them but you don’t stare for long, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Now you stare at his cock through his briefs, a wet patch on the front.

“You’re that worked up?”

He throws his shirt at you while grinning. “And you’re not?”

Your bra falls rather unceremoniously off of your shoulders as you sit up to perch yourself on him. His back is against the headboard. He sort of gasps when he sees your tits and you both burst into laughter, leaning your foreheads on each other. You hover, but when you finally sit, you gasp. Feeling him is much different from seeing him. It makes your stomach flip and you know you’re soaking your pretty underwear.

“Oh,” you whisper, experimentally grinding on it. It punches a moan from Steve, his hands flying to your hips.

“Slow,” he says. “I’m still a little sensitive from….”

“Jacking off?”

He’s looking up at you with those big puppy dog eyes. “Uh-huh.” And then his eyes trail down to your tits.

“You can touch them.”

He wastes no time. Big hands back on you. Warm against your cold skin. He cups them, feels the weight of them and sighs. “They’re pretty,” he says, looking up at you through his lashes. “So so pretty.”

You can’t not grind on him. Especially when his thumbs ghost over your nipples. You take his chin and tilt it up so you can kiss him while you rock yourself against him. You’re sensitive from earlier, too, but it feels delicious. His cock hot and hard under you. You can feel it twitch as you move back and forth gently, not wanting to move too fast. You never want this exploration to end.

“Steve,” you sigh into his mouth when his fingers gently pinch your nipples. “Oh, fuck, please.”

“Please?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer, moving awkwardly to kiss down his neck. He stiffens, then relaxes.

“Please what?” His voice cracks, hands still moving against your tits.

“Just - god, more, please.”

His throat vibrates against your lips when he chuckles, then vibrates again as he moans. You suckle on his skin and he whimpers, cock kicking under you. It makes you grind down harder, desperate to chase it.

“Oh my god,” he moans lowly. “Shit. Shit.”

There’s a tickle of stubble when you kiss up his jaw and to his ear, face hot when you whisper, “I want to take what you give me.”

Steve whines again shakily. You’re addicted. He ducks his head under you and situates you better on his lap, moving you with his strong hands. His mouth attaches to your nipple before you have a chance to quip at him and it makes your head fall back. “Fuck!”

“Mhm,” he moans, one hand on your hip and the other on your neglected breast. He’s making out with it, placing sloppy kisses on your nipple before sucking, using teeth where he needs to.

Your hands find his hair again, tugging it, making him groan. You can’t help yourself, grinding on his cock heavy, harshly. It feels so good. You’re surrounded by him, his presence, and after so long of needing him you could cry. “Oh, Steve, shit, you feel - you’re so good -“

He whines again. You’ve heard the same sound dozens of times before, maybe even hundreds, but it’s so real as it ricochets around your bedroom. “Honey,” he mumbles, pulling back, a string of spit connecting his lips to you. Your clit pulses. “Keep tuggin’ my hair.”

Right, you think. He’s tugged his hair in his videos before. You’ve studied him so much and you try to focus now so you can apply your knowledge. Praise, too. He’s cum to comments before. Plenty. “You’re so good at that,” you say, feeling lame. “Your cock, god, it’s - it feels so big. So good.”

You feel like you have whiplash with the speed at which he kisses you again. Both hands are on your waist while he guides you along his cock. The fabric separating you seems evil, but the friction it creates is almost devastating for you. He moans and pants into your mouth again, sloppily. You moan wildly, continuing to tug on his locks, curling them around your fingers before pulling.

“Shit,” he gasps, pushing his hips up into yours. “Wait, shit, wait, gonna cum, we gotta stop.”

“Please let me taste you,” you beg, forcing yourself to lift off of him. “I really, really want to, please.”

Steve laughs incredulously, eyes unfocused and hair a mess. “I won’t survive that.”

“Then don’t,” you say sincerely.

His chest heaves as he stares at you. He nods eventually, shifting down the bed, back flat against it.

“You sure?” you ask, though your already moving down the bed to face his shaft.

“Jesus, yeah.” His voice cracks. “Slow, please. I don’t want to stop.”

You smile and take a moment to kiss his scars. You don’t take too long on it, afraid of him pulling away, but you look up at his face and melt at the adoration in his eyes. You kiss along the waistband of his underwear, then his thighs, leaving little bites and sucking when he squirms.

He breathes your name. Again and again. He seems to stop breathing when you finally hover over his length, then gasps loudly when you kiss him over his underwear.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” he chants, hands moving to his own hair.

“Chill out,” you laugh. “How’re you gonna last?”

“I won’t,” he says desperately. “I won’t, don’t know if -“

“How are you going to handle my pussy?”

He moans, eyes shut tight. Christ, you’ve never seen him like this, either. It’s the biggest ego boost of your life. “I won’t, oh my god. Wa- wanted this for too long, you don’t get it.”

“Believe me,” you say, leaning down again. “I get it.”

You kiss his cock again, gently at first then open-mouthed. You can taste his precum. It’s surprisingly clean, only slightly salty. It makes your mouth water and you crave more. You lick him and he moans. “God, please, please take it out.”

You realize quickly that your fear of not having a good enough reaction for him was unnecessary. When you pull his underwear down, it pulls up, slapping against his stomach. Steve’s huge. Thick, pretty, pink. A vein running up the underside. A few freckles that remind you of the ones scattered across his back along the shaft. You stare, unable to do much else. You realize your jaw is open and you shut it quickly.

“Yeah?” he says, a little smug. He’s propped himself up on his elbows so he can look down at you.

“Holy shit,” you breathe. “Steve.”

“Thought you might say that,” he says, cheeks red.

You bring your focus back to his cock. You reach for it, feeling the weight of it in your hand. Steve makes a noise above you, a cross between a moan and a sigh. You jerk him off for a few strokes, getting used to the weight, before experimentally licking up along the vein protruding on the underside.

“Oh my god!” he nearly shouts, hands flying to your hair. You both burst into laughter after, but you’re quick to suckle on the head of his cock, catching Steve off guard. He moans fists at your hair. “Fuck, I don’t - I don’t think I can,” he pants.

“Please?” you frown, stroking him again. “Just a minute? I want to taste you.”

His eyes go semi-crossed. “Okay. Shit, okay.”

You keep your eyes on his face as you sink down onto him, your mouth hot and wet around him. He gasps and throws his head back, hands still tugging at your hair. He’s whining, high pitched, forcing his hips to still. You take him down surprisingly far, surprising both of you, and you let the weight of him sit in your throat before you pull up. You keep a slow, gentle pace, as much as you’d love to suck his soul out. There will be other times for that, you figure.

Steve curses and babbles nonsense above you. He’s dejected when you pull off, deflating slightly, but it’s clear to both of you that you’ll never get him inside if you keep it up. And you really want to feel him. You want to experience the feeling your fingers have been trying to create the last few months.

“Come here,” he pants, making grabby hands at you. You slide back onto his lap, resting your hands on his chest. His heartbeat is quick and strong under your palms.

“You like that, huh?” you ask.

“More than you realize.”

You want to ask how long it’s been since someone touched him like this. You know he’s been on dates, but you’re not sure how people in town feel about dating a camboy. You open your mouth to ask, but shut it, not wanting to be too forward.

“What is it?”

You shake your head. “I’m just wondering.”

“About?”

“Um,” you say, brain working double time to be as polite as possible. “When was the last time someone paid attention to you like this?”

You want to hit yourself.

“Oh, a while,” he answers easily, fingers playing with the waistband of your underwear. “Couldn’t you tell?”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s not like I’ve been looking.”

“Why not? You could get anyone -“

“I wanted you.”

Heat once again creeps up your neck. “Oh.”

“Oh,” he smiles. “You gonna let me have you?”

You nod, entranced, a little confused. You nearly don’t believe him. But Steve’s a sincere and honest person, you’ve noticed. If he didn’t want to answer, he would have deflected, not lied.

“I mean it,” he says, reaching up to cup your cheeks. His voice is soft. “I’ve wanted you for a long time. I didn’t want anyone else.”

“What if you never got me?”

“I don’t give up easily.” He takes your hand and presses his lips to your knuckles. “Especially on something as good as you.”

You bite your lip to hide a smile. “Okay. I guess I’ll let you fuck me then.”

“So polite.”

He helps you out of your underwear, moving slow, feeling your apprehension. “We don’t have to,” he insists. “Whatever makes you feel good.”

“I think what makes me feel good will be your cock, Steve.”

But he’s serious. “Are you sure?”

You answer by sitting down on his cock, your folds enveloping his shaft. His eyes widen as he feels how wet you are. “Wow,” he breathes, hands on your hips. You rock back and forth, your slickness helping you grind down on his shaft. You’re stiff with arousal and nerves, but the feeling makes you melt a little bit.

“Feels so good,” he whispers, eyes trained on your joined forms. “So soft and warm… been thinking about this for too - too long.”

“Sorry I made you wait.”

“It’s worth it.”

Steve’s eyes fall closed while you continue your movements. His cock’s hot under you, the vein you were just focusing on rubbing against your clit. Your eyes roll back as the tip of his cock catches on your clit. You’re insatiable, burning up, needing him to stretch you open. Wanting to feel the burn melt into pleasure. Wanting his weight keeping you tethered to the ground when you finally cum around him.

“Condom?” you ask.

“Always keep one on me. Y-you know I’ll need to - um, to get you ready,” he says. “Not bragging.”

“That’s true,” you sigh. “Wish I could just take you now.”

“I know the feeling.”

You’re upset when you finally move off of him, sitting up on your knees, but luckily Steve’s fingers replace his cock swiftly. You gasp while his fingers circle your clit.

“You’re so wet for me, huh?” he asks. “Shouldn’t take much, honey. Just have to use a few fingers, okay? You’ll tell me if it hurts, won’t you?”

“Of course.”

“What an angel,” he smiles, and your stomach twists. “Want to taste you so bad. But I just have to feel you.”

“Next time.”

“Next time,” he sighs happily. “You ready?”

You nod, and his middle finger breaches you nice and slow. His other hand works on your clit. You moan immediately, grinding down on his finger as he sinks in up to his knuckle. A sound from deep in his chest bubbles past his lips. “You’re going to feel so good around me,” he mumbles, moving his mouth back to your tits.

Your hand moves down to his cock and you begin jerking him again, watching his brows knit together. “And you’re going to split me open.”

You’re lost in each other. Steve adds a second, then third finger over the span of half an hour, shushing you and cooing when you wince and tighten around him. His mouth enveloping your tits is a nice distraction when you feel too full, but you know taking him will certainly be a challenge. He’s leaking in your hand, moaning into your skin every time you swipe your thumb over his tip.

“You’re so deep,” you moan. “Mmph, feels so good, Steve.”

“Yeah?” he asks, doe eyes looking up at you. He suddenly crooks them, mumbling there, finding your sweet spot.

“Oh!” you cry, head thrown back. Steve takes the opportunity to kiss your neck again, adding to the hickeys already there. “What - oh, ffffff - uh huh, yeah - Steve, don’t - fucking stop -“

“Holy shit,” he moans, brows furrowed again as he watches you. His cock pulses in your hand. “Like that, huh? Think - think of how it’ll feel when it’s my cock.”

“I’m gonna -“ you grab his wrist tightly, forcing him to stop, as much as you don’t want him to. You don’t want to cum and be spent. “Fuck, need you. Now, please, I need you in me.”

“Are you ready?” he asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you moan. “Just fuck me, please.”

He giggles and kisses your collarbone. “You don’t know?”

“I just know I want you.”

Steve bites his lip, nodding, taking his fingers out of you. You hate how empty you feel without him. It almost makes you hysterical. “Okay. You tell me what you want, alright?”

“Want to ride you,” you admit, taking his cock and rubbing it along your folds.

He clears his throat, looking up at you with wide eyes. His hands grip your hips. “O-okay.”

“That okay with you, Steve?”

“God, yes.” He licks his lips and gently moves you off to the side, quickly digging for his wallet within his balled up sweatpants. He produces a condom and waves it at you, coming back over to the bed.

“Figured something like this might happen,” he says, grinning as he lays back. You take the condom from him and open it quickly, needing him so badly that you’re half inclined to say fuck it to the damn thing. But you roll it on, all while Steve watches you with hooded eyes.

“You’re beautiful.”

“So are you,” you retort, and you line him up with you. The press of the head of his cock against your entrance has you realizing just how painful this might be.

“You’re gonna have to stay still,” you whisper. “You’re too big.”

“I- yeah, yeah, I’ll help,” he stutters. You can tell he’s already so far gone. You’re sure neither of you will last very long, but it’s okay - you just want to be close to him.

He says your name gently as you’re leveling your breathing, still rubbing his cock up and down. He leans up to kiss you softly. “Tell me again.”

You smile. “I need you.”

Steve shivers. “I really like you.”

You bite your lip. “I really like you, too.”

Just the head of him makes you feel like you’re being stretched open. He’s just inside of you and you’re already gripping his shoulders like a vice. Both of your mouths drop open. Steve mumbles holy shit and you sink down a bit deeper, but you have to stop. His hot cock is almost comforting against your walls, a contrast to the pain of the stretch.

“Are you okay?” he forces out, brows furrowed tight with pleasure.

You nod, your brows copying his, mouth still gaping open. He rubs soothing circles into your hips, squeezing them a little. A whine is punched out from you when he’s halfway in and you grab his arm now, nails digging into it.

“Shh,” he whispers, doing his best not to move. “Breathe for me, honey.”

Oh, right. You take in a deep breath, breathing out slow. “You’re so goddamn big.”

“I know,” he says pitifully. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod again and brace yourself on his chest. “More.”

“Breathe,” he reminds. You inhale, then sink down lower on the exhale. His mouth falls open once more, a little guh! slipping from his mouth. He remembers suddenly that he has fingers and he uses them on your clit, rubbing soothing circles into it. You pause, Steve nearly all the way in. “Look at you, huh? So good for me, look how well you’re taking it. So pretty. You feel so good.”

“Uh-huh.” You’re already fucked stupid. Steve is taking up every inch of your existence. You take another deep breath and sink the entire way down, hitting home, your thighs flush with his.

It’s a strange feeling. Full, but aching. Painful, but relaxed. Stretched, but not enough.

“Holy shit,” Steve breathes.

“I know,” you say weakly.

He kisses you gently. “W-whenever - there’s no - no rush.”

There is a rush, you think. You need him pummeling you, like, seven months ago. You force yourself to take some time, and when you feel accustomed to him, you nod.

“Ready?”

Steve looks like he’s in pain, but it’s from sheer pleasure. He nods, unable to speak, hands still splayed out on your hips to hold you to him, like you might slip away.

“You feel so good,” you mumble, pulling off of his cock before slowly sinking back down. You both moan loudly, hands grabbing each other, your legs tightening around him.

“Oh my god,” he gasps. “Oh, honey, let me - give me more, please, Jesus fucking Christ.”

You lean down to kiss him. You move slow and gently on top of him, rising and falling, not taking him in his entirety just yet. You’re both trying to get used to the motions. Eyes crossed, Steve remembers he has fingers, and starts circling your clit again while throwing his head back.

“Steve,” you mewl, “g-good boy.”

“Oh,” he moans, bucking his hips up accidentally. “Please, again, please.”

“Good boy.”

He groans, his hands moving back to cup your ass. “Fuck, you’re - god, feel incredible, g-grip-grippin’ me- I… I need you. W-waited so long.”

“I know,” you say, and it’s now you realize you’re crying. Months of desperation, of fear, of disgust, of adoration coming to a head. Feeling beautiful and wanted above him. It’s not a bad cry at all - it’s a release you didn’t know you needed. It almost feels as good as his cock.

“H-Hey,” he says, sitting up the moment he notices. “You okay? What’s wrong?”

“You feel so good,” you cry. “I feel so good.”

He says your name gently. “I’m here.”

“Wanna keep going, it’s so good, Steve. I need you.”

“Need you too,” he whispers, kissing the tears on your cheeks as you begin riding him again.

He whines and moans, pretty plush lips parted. He’s so fucking pretty it makes you cry harder. You feel possessive of him, legs tight around his hips. Afraid of losing him. But he’s holding you just as tightly, dark eyes full of so much fondness that it makes you want to hide and embrace it at the same time. You clench around him and he swears, growing louder and louder.

“Honey honey honey honey yes, oh god. You’re so g-good, so pretty, just.... L-let… let me t-take care of you.”

His thumb circles your clit. He ducks under your chin to kiss your neck, remembering what spots made you squirm. You tighten around him and gasp, your fingernails once again finding solace in the skin of his shoulders.

“Steve, oh my god, please fuck me.”

You cry out as his hips start bucking up. You’re taking him fully now, both of you grabbing and scratching each other. Your moans are loud and intertwined, desperate.

“Feel so good,” you pant.

“I know,” he mumbles into your skin. “God, not g-gonna fuckin’ last much longer.”

He’s properly fucking you now. Punching out whines and moans with each thrust. The tip of his cock pummels suddenly against your sweet spot and you gasp, back arching. This, with his fingers and the look he’s giving you now, eyes hooded and dark and hyper-focused on you, makes your stomach tighten and flip, feeling tight and unrelenting.

“Gonna cum,” you squeak, leaning forward to brush your lips against his. “Wanna cum for you, please let me, Steve.”

“Oh my god.” He’s so loud it almost sounds like he’s shouting. Face lost in ecstasy. Fingers and hips working overtime, chasing you. “Please cum, squeeze my cock baby, all I fuckin’ want.”

Your own noises grow louder. You’re squirming on top of him while he’s fucking up into you, your hips sinking down to try to match his choreography. Steve’s lips smash against yours, moving slow and calculated. “Cum,” he moans into your mouth.

Your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth opens as you cum, clenching around him tightly. His chest vibrates against yours, gasping and groaning. “So good so good so good- shit, honey, fuck.”

He fucks you through it, holding you tight. You feel otherworldly on the other side of it. Glowing and relaxed and happier than you’ve been in a long time. You’re still crying. More so now. Steve’s eyes are welled with tears too as you pull back to look at him, dazed. “Cum,” you repeat, wrapping your arms around him. “I’ve got you.”

He buries his face in your chest as he does, his hips coming completely up off the bed, fucking you so deep that you feel like you might burst. He bites your collarbone, not too hard but enough to make your cunt clench around him.

You’re both frozen like this, wrapped in each other’s arms, still seated on his softening cock. Steve listens to your heartbeat while you stroke his hair with your fingers. You lean down to kiss the top of his head.

“Steve,” you whisper, voice shaking. “You’re trembling.”

“I’m okay,” he promises, voice thick. “I’m alright.”

You hold him to you as you both catch your breath. You’re both hot and sticky and emotional. Steve kisses up your chest to your neck, then lips, holding your cheeks in his warm hands. Your heads rest against each other while you look into the other’s eyes.

“Hi,” you finally say.

Steve smiles. “Hi.”

“You’re amazing,” you whisper, kissing his nose.

He laughs breathlessly. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You made me cum harder than I ever have.”

“Really?”

It’s your turn to laugh now, running your hand through his hair again. “Why do you doubt your skills? You make thousands of people cum.”

He scrunches his nose. “I only care about you.”

Your heart hammers. “I only care about you, too.”

===

taglist: @sillypurplemurple @kknockursocksofff @knowitsforthebetterr @micheledawn1975 @thehermitsaltar @loverofmarsss @unbetaedimagines @mikefaistwasinnewsies @localbnbg @starlitlakes @the-fairy-anon @cloudroomblog @inmyh0rnyvillainera @sherrylyn628 @piecsesrising @mandyjo8719 @astermath @mochminnie @live-the-fangirl-life @five-seconds-flat @kennedy-brooke @munsonzzgf @mysticrose1210

#steve harrington smut #ns/fw #steve x reader #stevenose posts #camboy!steve

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decolonize-the-left · 27 days

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GENERAL STRIKE TIME BABEY. READ THE WHOLE POST.

While we're all mad at government sending money to Israel that police budgets are so inflated because of how often they pay settlements.

And also that it's a verified fact that our police train with Israeli soldiers. Remember when they were black bagging people in PDX? It reminded me of this ex-Israeli soldier talking about how they'd do the same thing to innocent Palestinians just to terrorize them and their neighbors. It was intentional terrorism when they did it.

Police budgets pay for all that.

Correction, we pay.

To put it more bluntly,

We pay for them to kill and terrorize people.

Just as our taxes pay for the deaths of Black and Brown people all over the world from Turtle Island to Sudan and Palestine.

In Dec. 2022, Louisville Metro Government agreed to pay Walker $2 million to settle lawsuits against the city. Metro government previously paid a $12 million settlement to Taylor’s family in Sept. 2020

We paid for Breonna Taylor's death.

And her murderers were never arrested btw. Not that there aren't still people trying to arrest them of course. But our money paid for their lawyers and wouldn't you know it, no charges have stuck.

Four years to the day after Breonna Taylor’s death, federal prosecutors are moving forward with a re-trial of one of the officers involved in the botched raid that ended her life. At a status conference Wednesday, U.S. District Court Judge Rebecca Grady Jennings scheduled Brett Hankison’s final pre-trial hearing for September 13th. His re-trial is scheduled to begin on Oct. 15. In November of last year, Hankinson was tried for violating the Constitutional rights of Breonna Taylor, her boyfriend, and three neighbors when he fired through two covered windows during the raid. Prosecutors argued he used excessive force when he shot into the apartment complex blindly. Taylor’s boyfriend, Kenneth Walker, had fired at officers executing the search, claiming he thought they were intruders.

And Myles Cosgrove?

Yeah we're paying him to terrorize more people. He got a job as a fucking sheriff's deputy.

Myles Cosgrove, the former Louisville police officer, who was fired for fatally shooting Breonna Taylor in a botched 2020 police raid and hired earlier this year as a sheriff’s deputy in Carroll County, rammed a resident’s truck with his cruiser Monday and then pointed a gun at the owner and several bystanders, witnesses said.

Witnesses told The Courier Journal that Cosgrove barreled into Happy Hollow Private Resort Park trailer park at a high rate of speed without his emergency lights on, then struck William Joshua Short’s pickup truck with such force that it sent the vehicle flying into a building, breaking off two cinder blocks.

And Johnathan Mattingly wrote a fucking book about it to make money off of his role in her murder. $15 on Amazon.

He also wanted to sue Kenneth Walker, Breonna's boyfriend. You know why? For damages and injuries he sustained while killing Breonna Taylor.

WE PAID FOR ALL THAT. ALL OF IT.

Our power is in our dollar.

American politics and officials don't care for our lives. It's why they're content to watch us protest for months. Because we're still going to work. We are the worker ants simply fulfilling our duty, receiving the bare minimum to survive for our labor.

We're still building their bombs. Paying our taxes, so much that hardly any of us could afford more than rent.

We are just drones fulfilling our purpose to the upper class who doesn't give a shit about us beyond what we do for them and how little we will do it for.

If we want change we're gonna have to stop working. We're going to have to deprive them of products they sell, of our taxes, of our low cost labor.

And the strike that UAW is planning in May 2028 has inspired a lot of others to start looking at the opportunity to join in.

If you haven't heard of it yet, a strike is when workers organize and stop showing up for work. And a general strike is a mass strike across various industries around similar demands or bargaining positions.

There have been multiple calls for a general strike since then, predominantly from individuals and groups on social media, which has often resulted in confusion about what a general strike would actually look like. To be clear, a general strike is not a protest or a rally, a single picket line, or a boycott. It is, as I’ve previously defined, “a labor action in which a significant number of workers from a number of different industries who comprise a majority of the total labor force within a particular city, region, or country come together to take collective action.”

Throughout history, workers have used this tactic as a nuclear option to shut down entire cities when needed, including Philadelphia in 1835, Seattle in 1919, and beyond.[...]

If even four or five of the unions representing the workers mentioned above banded together in a nationwide general strike, the entire country would grind to a halt. When Shawn Fain asks his fellow unions to set the timer for May 2028, what he’s really saying is, get ready to shut sh*t down and level the playing field between bosses and workers once and for all.

JOIN A UNION. AND TALK ABOUT THIS.

And make one of the demands out to be an end of American support to countries participating in apartheid and genocide.

End the taxes for police budgets and settlements. If they want police departments so bad then they should FIND funding for themselves like the government makes USPS do.

One of the biggest pushbacks we hear is that there is never any official backing for calls to a general strike. Well here it is! Make sure you tell EVERYONE

This could be a global strike if other countries choose to participate on the same date

No, I don't think Palestine has 3 years so in the mean time join a union, keep protesting, start rioting, answer Every call to action coming from a Palestine and Sudan and the DRC and sign this strike card

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withacapitalp · 1 year

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How to Rehabilitate a Jock in Four Months Part 12

We're back babey :DDDD Happy to announce hiatus is over fellowsssss but also TW for this one Steve has a panic attack. Also thanks as always to @stevethehairington for betaing and supporting and generally just being the best friend a person can ask forrrrr also @thefreakandthehair for listening to me ramble about this endlessly. When I say I was working on this for two months, legitimately for the entire two months I was working on this

Part One Part Eleven Part Thirteen Link to Ao3

Step Twelve: Watch Him Stumble

In terms of gigs, this probably had to be one of the best sets Eddie had ever played. The energy was off the charts, the crowd was in it with them at every step, and best of all, Steve had been smiling the whole time. Even the power going out had a certain panache to it. Like a final zinger to finish off the wicked guitar solo in Breathless that made Eddie’s heart race every single time he played it.

Was it ideal to have to sit in the dark and wait for the lights to come back on? Not by a long shot, but there was no denying that the ending of the song had been one hundred percent bonafide metal.

All in all, Eddie wasn’t that pressed about having the electricity cut out. It wasn’t the first time the power had died during one of their shows, and it wouldn’t be the last. The Hideout was a total dive, basically a shack at the edge of the woods with an electrical system that was shoddy, at best. The band’s equipment had blown a fuse so many times that it was practically routine for the owner to have to go downstairs and reset the box halfway through their set.

“What’s going on, Dan?” Eddie asked as he saw the bartender’s flashlight start to come up from the basement. He was eager to get going again, unwilling to lose the killer vibe coming from the crowd.

He also wanted to be able to see what a certain ex-jock thought about the song he had just played. But that was neither here nor there.

“Shows over, boys!” Bar owner Dan shouted, listening to the moans and groans from the patrons before sighing and walking over to the low stage. “Flipped the breakers twice, but nothing. Must’ve been somethin’ else that blew the power. We’re done for the night.”

“Damn it,” Eddie swore, scuffing his sneaker on the ground and strumming a discordant little note on his guitar for emphasis.

Of course this happened on the one night he was actually trying to impress someone. Of course.

“You can leave whatever you want to here for the night,” Dan offered, waving his flashlight around, “It’ll be hard enough to find your way out of this place without trying to lug around all this equipment too.”

Eddie didn’t care about the equipment. He cared about the fact that Steve’s first time seeing him play had just been totally wrecked by a stupid power outage.

“Thanks, Dan,” Jeff said for all of them as Eddie continued to scowl, trying to push down his disappointment before it could grow into something impossible to manage.

The bartender nodded once, turning and walking towards some of the patrons to give them the news, leaving the band to their own devices.

“This blows,” Eddie groaned as soon as they were alone, mood still incredibly sour.

“You’re just mad you didn’t get to show off for Steeeeeve,” Frank teased as the others started to pack up in the dark. Even if they were leaving their stuff there, they still wanted to leave it in a somewhat organized fashion.

“Stones and glass houses, Frankie,” Eddie said warningly, turning to where he knew Frank was around and glaring. He was not above calling out the other boy’s very obvious crush on Janet at this moment, nothing was off the books when he was this annoyed. “No, I’m mad our set got slashed in half cause of a dumb power outage.”

“Mhm, sure,” Gareth said, drawing out the word in a way that grated on every single nerve Eddie had.

“Guys?” Janet’s voice floated over, stopping Eddie before he said something he regretted. Janet slowly came into view as she walked over to the stage, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable.

She was alone.

Eddie’s anger vanished as a pit began to form in his stomach.

“Where’s Rocky?” Frank asked, walking over to stand next to Eddie.

“Where’s Steve?” Eddie emphasized before Janet could answer, looking around into the dark of the bar. It was hard to see anything but lumps bobbing and weaving about, but none of them seemed Steve-shaped. Still, there was no way Steve would just leave.

Right?

“No clue,” Janet answered, rubbing her arm, “Steve was acting weird right before the power went out, and now we can’t find him. I sent Rocky to go look around.”

Weird? What did ‘weird’ mean? Weird was the kind of word that only made even more questions. Did Steve totally hate the music? Was he having a bad time? Had Eddie completely misinterpreted everything he had thought from before?

But before Eddie could put any of these fears to words, Rocky’s silhouette came into view.

“He’s not in the bathroom. I even peeked into the ladies just to be sure,” Rocky reported. Janet made a disgusted little sound, reaching over to smack the younger boy upside the head and give him a disappointed scowl.

“Hey!” Rocky snapped, getting out of Janet’s line of fire, “Not cool. I’m just looking out for a fellow party member.”

“He’s not in our party,” Gareth muttered immediately, stepping around his drum kit to come stand with the rest of them. Eddie didn’t bother to fight with his best friend or even comment on his stupid little jab. He was too busy freaking the fuck out over the fact that the guy he definitely wasn’t crushing on had seemingly vanished into thin air.

“What do you mean weird?” Eddie asked, hating the way his heart was starting to pound.

“He was like really distracted? And looked kind of freaked out. Not just annoyed or uncomfortable, but scared,” Janet said, trailing off with a grimace on her face. She looked like she had more to say, but nothing else came, and an stilted silence fell over the group.

Scared? Steve? The words just didn’t seem to fit together. Eddie couldn’t imagine Steve being afraid of anything. He went headfirst into everything, confident to the point of nearly cocky, so sure of himself Eddie was sometimes jealous.

“Maybe he just didn’t like the music?” Gareth offered, but his tone was weak. “Used the power outage as a way to slip out?”

“No,” Janet said firmly, shaking her head. “He… Something wasn’t right, guys.”

Something wasn’t right.

Eddie knew this feeling. It was that heart stop stomach drop moment. The deer hearing the first snap of the twig under a hunter’s boot, a rabbit sensing that a snare was nearby. It was the same way he felt when he was walking around town and saw a car full of douchebags tailing him, or he went to the woods to make a deal only to find no one sitting at the picnic table.

There was something dangerous happening, something that instinctually made Eddie want to run for the hills.

Something scary. Something that was a threat.

He needed to find Steve. Now.

“Maybe he’s just outside having a smoke or somethin’,” Eddie said, trying and failing to sound casual. “Let’s go look.”

Eddie carefully placed his guitar in its case and hopped down, walking towards the direction of the front door and hoping the others were following. He would go on his own if he had to, but he really, really, didn’t want to.

Luckily he heard the pattern of footsteps following his own, and Jeff bumped his shoulder against Eddie’s as they approached the exit. Eddie took a millisecond to be grateful for his loyal batshit insane buds, then he was back on task.

“Steve?” Eddie called as he walked out the door, mentally sending a prayer to whoever might be listening that Steve would be standing right there, waiting for them to come join him.

No such luck. There were a few drunks milling about, a couple making out against the side of the building, but no sign of Steve’s pretty boy hair or his soft sweet smile. Eddie’s heart began to race impossibly faster.

“Steve! You out here?!” Eddie shouted, hating the panic that was starting to enter his tone. He turned his head in every direction, but he couldn’t see any sign of Steve.

“He’s long gone, Eds, can we go back inside now? It’s fucking freezing out here,” Gareth asked, rubbing at his bare arms and shivering as the frigid winter wind raced past them. Eddie could barely feel his own body, but he ignored both the cold and Gareth’s words, walking towards his van.

Steve was there. He had to be. He had to be, or else Eddie was going to lose his mind worrying over what was probably nothing, and he might say something incredibly stupid when they actually found Steve, and that would ruin everything they had worked so hard to build.

Luckily for Eddie’s increasingly fragile mind and heart, he spotted a shape sitting near the van. Eddie practically melted in relief, jogging around to the other side of his van, needing to see Steve’s face.

“Well if you wanted to dine and dash so bad, Harrington, you should have-”

Eddie cut off the idiotic quip he had been in the middle of saying, struck silent by the state he found Steve in. All of the relief he had been starting to feel instantly vanished, replaced by a bone deep dread that overtook Eddie’s entire being.

Steve was on the ground, his knees pulled close to his chest and his eyes staring firmly at the gravel. He was still as a statue, barely even blinking, and his breathing was shallow and uneven. Eddie could see him shaking from where he stood, trembling like a leaf in the wind as he continued to just stare at nothing.

Something was wrong.

“Steve?” Eddie said softly, reaching out slowly as he edged closer to the other boy trying to get his attention. “Sweetheart? What’s going o-“

Steve’s hand darted out the second Eddie’s got close enough to reach, fingers latching onto Eddie’s wrist in an iron tight grip that instantly sent a dull ache racing up his arm. The physical sensation was uncomfortable, painful, but it was the look on Steve’s face that hurt the most.

Steve’s eyes were boring holes into Eddie’s face, staring him down with a flat blank glare that looked completely wrong on his features. It was almost like he was looking through Eddie, not really seeing him, just dealing with the threat that was coming towards his body.

It shouldn’t hurt. After all, Eddie was used to people in this town seeing him as a scary person. He didn’t really bat an eye anymore when people switched to the other side of the street as he walked past, and he didn’t care that much about the way mothers would grab their children’s hands if he started to approach.

But something about the way Steve’s protective instincts had deemed him a danger just cut right to Eddie’s core.

“Steve it’s-it’s just me,” Eddie stuttered out, trying subtly to pull away from Steve’s death grip.

The combination of his quiet voice and tugging must have tripped something in Steve’s mind, because a hint of recognition flew across Steve’s face, and he instantly dropped Eddie’s wrist, going back to curling both of his hands in his hair and pulling, shaking silently as he let his gaze fall back to the pavement.

“Eddie, back up,” Jeff ordered the second he was free, stepping forward.

“Jeff-“

“Eddie, he’s having a panic attack,” Jeff said firmly, interrupting his friend before he could start trying to argue. “Back. Up.”

A panic attack?

Eddie had seen Jeff in the throes of a panic attack before, and it was nothing like this. Usually Jeff would hyperventilate, gasp for breath as his limbs moved almost uncontrollably. He would babble out anxiety fueled rambles until the moment passed, then usually retreat into the safety of solitude for a while as he tried to piece himself back together.

Steve just looked… gone, lost somewhere none of them could reach him.

But Jeff would be the expert on panic attacks, so if he said that was what this was, then Eddie just had to trust him and hope he could help Steve. Unwillingly Eddie took a single step back, falling into line with the rest of the group who had crept over at some point, and were now all staring at the scene with a mixture of horror and confusion.

“Hey Steve, it’s Jeff, do you recognize me?” Jeff asked calmly, keeping his tone even and clear. He seemed completely zen, unphased by the very frightening moment. The only way Eddie could tell anything was amiss was the way Jeff’s fists were clenched tight at his sides, an easy tell that he was trying to keep his hands from shaking.

Steve looked up when Jeff started speaking to him, giving one short nod after a prolonged pause.

“That’s good. Can I come sit by you?” Jeff asked, starting to step closer. Instantly Steve seemed to be back on guard, stiffening up and pressing his back even harder against the van. Jeff took the shift in stride, taking a step back and holding his hands out.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stay right here. That’s better?”

Another pause. Another short nod.

Jeff took a second to think, then slowly slid down so he was sitting across from Steve on the ground of the parking lot, crossing his legs and taking a long calming breath.

“Do you know where you are right now?”

Yet another pause as Steve contemplated the question. Eddie watched as Steve’s blank look shifted first to confusion, then to fear as he shook his head. Steve’s lip started to wobble as his eyes turned glassy and filled with fright.

“That’s okay,” Jeff said soothingly, clearly trying to get ahead of whatever was starting to grow inside Steve’s mind. “You’re at the Hideout in the parking lot with me, Jeff. Our other friends are here too. Eddie, Frank, Janet, Rocky, and Gareth. You came to listen to the band play tonight, do you remember that?”

Steve nodded, letting out a long slow exhale, a bit of the tension in his shoulders dropping. His hands slowly slid out of his hair, fingers playing with the loose gravel of the parking lot.

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” Jeff explained. His words were blunt, but his tone was still soft. “Have you had one before? Do you know what caused it?”

Steve’s jaw clenched up even tighter. Eddie found his mind starting to count the seconds, needing something to do in the moment in order to stop himself from speaking.

He got up to thirty four before Steve finally opened his mouth.

“The lights,” Steve whispered, sighing and reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “It was… it was the lights.”

“Lights? I don’t- It was… it was just a power outage, Sweetheart,” Eddie blurted out, unable to hold his words back. His mind was racing to try and fit the piece into the puzzle, but no matter how he thought about it, Eddie simply couldn’t comprehend how the lights of all things caused Steve to fall into such a panic.

He looked back at the rest of the group, seeing if any of them had any clue what was going on, but they all had the same confused fright on their faces.

“No. It wasn’t,” Steve stated immediately, his voice firm and set. His eyes were hard again, and he was staring at the ground with a mixture of hate and fear that made Eddie’s stomach clench up tightly. “It was not just a power outage, and I need to check on my kids.”

“Steve-“

“I need to check on my kids,” Steve repeated, interrupting Jeff harshly. Now that the tension was broken, the words seemed to be coming easier, and Steve cleared his throat before continuing, “My bag has what I need, but the doors were locked. I got out here and then the doors...”

Steve trailed off, looking lost.

“I’ll grab your bag,” Gareth offered, startling them all. He held his hand out for the keys, and Eddie gave him a look, raising a brow. If it was anyone else, Eddie wouldn’t even hesitate, but Gareth offering to do something for Steve of his own free will was like the devil offering to tie Jesus’s shoe.

“It’s okay, I got it,” Gareth said, softening his voice, something far too close to pity in his eyes as his gaze flitted over to Steve, then back to Eddie, conveying without words that Eddie leaving Steve at this moment seemed like a bad idea

Despite the tension of the moment, a part of Eddie relaxed. Gareth was just being Gareth- the good Gareth that Eddie knew was hiding under bitchy mean Gareth that had cropped up out of nowhere. Eddie tossed him his keys and the rest walked to the other side of the van, talking in harsh low whispers that Eddie couldn’t quite make out.

“This can’t be happening again,” Steve whispered when it was just the three of them, a breathy half laugh escaping alongside the words as he wrapped his arms around his knees and tucked his head down. “God, it’s really never gonna be fucking over, is it?”

The question was obviously rhetorical, Steve probably wasn’t even really talking to them, but a physical pain started to grow in Eddie’s chest from the utter defeat radiating off of Steve in miserable waves.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not going to ask,” Jeff stated, taking the risk to scoot closer and maneuvering himself so he was sitting next to Steve, his back flat against the van, “but, while we’re waiting for them to get what you need, do you want to try a grounding technique?”

“A what?” Steve asked, just barely raising his head. Jeff began to explain his favorite grounding technique, using short and easy to understand sentences to go over exactly what he was suggesting. Steve uncurled ever so slightly as Jeff was speaking, his full attention on the younger boy. Even Eddie was caught in the lull of Jeff’s tone, his heart starting to finally flow down.

Then he heard his name.

“Eddie.”

It was Gareth on the other side of the van, holding Steve’s bag up and giving Eddie a wide eyed look of horror. He gestured for Eddie to come over with a jerky handwave, and Eddie gave him a look. Wasn’t the whole point for Eddie to stay? Why was Gareth trying to pull him away just as they were starting to make progress.

“Eddie. Now,” Frank whispered harshly, his head popping up next to Gareth’s. He also looked freaked the fuck out, still far too pale.

“I’ve got him, Eds,” Jeff said in that same soothing tone pulling another deep breath and watching as Steve obediently copied the motion. “Go see what they need.”

Eddie really wanted to just say fuck it and stay exactly where he was, but Steve was starting to get some color back in his cheeks, and if whatever was in that bag would help, then Eddie needed to get that for him.

So, very reluctantly, Eddie walked around to the other side of the van, leaving Jeff and Steve alone.

“What?!” Eddie snapped the second he was out of earshot of the two boys, throwing Gareth a harsh glare. If this was another trick or some weird tactic to fuck with Steve, then Eddie was going to seriously have to reconsider their friendship at this point.

“Look,” Gareth hissed, shoving Steve’s bag into Eddie’s hands.

Eddie peered in the bag, still annoyed and confused. It was all normal stuff. Well, a little weird. Steve’s car keys, a flashlight, a walkie-talkie… a first aid kit… and…

“Why does he have a knife?!” Gareth snarled, looking more terrified than angry.

“Lots of people have knives,” Eddie said, trying to sound calm. The words came out strangled, falsely cool in a way that made it obvious to all of them that Eddie was just as uncomfortable as they were.

“Okay, but why does he need that right now, Eddie?” Janet asked. It was a good question, but one that Eddie couldn’t possibly come up with an answer for.

Why did Steve need a knife right now? Why would he even bring it with him tonight?

“Eddie? What’s going on?” Jeff called from the other side of the van, still blissfully unaware of the latest update to their situation. Eddie shook his head roughly, dropping the knife back into the bag and zipping it up, holding it behind his back as he rounded the front of the van again.

“What is it you need from your bag, Steve?” Eddie questioned, keeping his voice firm as he stared down at Steve.

“My walkie-talkie?” Steve answered, a picture of innocence. He had one hand flat on the ground, and the other tangled up in Eddie’s necklace, his thumb worrying across the face of the guitar pick. Then Steve's words came back to him.

I need to check on my kids.

Hot shame flooded Eddie’s stomach as he remembered exactly what had led to all of them snooping in Steve’s stuff. Steve had just wanted to reach out to the kids, that was all. The knife wasn’t really that weird in retrospect, just another overprotective Steve thing. He wasn’t about to get stab happy on them, he just wanted a way to protect himself if it became necessary.

Eddie could understand that.

“Is it not there?” Steve wondered, some anxiety starting to leak into his tone the longer Eddie just stood there. “I’m sure I brought it, but-”

“No, I have it right here, sweetheart,” Eddie said, interrupting the thought before it could even form. He tugged the walkie-talkie out of the bag and handed it to Steve, sitting on the ground next to him and watching as Steve flipped it on and switched the channels, taking a deep breath before holding down the talk button.

“Guys?”

He let go of the receiver, and immediately there was an explosion of voices as the kids all began to scream over each other, shouting Steve’s name and endless questions. It was impossible to make out exact words in the mayhem, but Eddie wasn’t interested in that. He was busy focusing on Steve.

Despite the fact that he was still trembling, the pinched brow and nervous look in Steve’s eyes faded the second he heard the kid’s voices. He sighed, leaning his head back until it softly hit the van, letting the tension fall from his shoulders as his eyes slipped shut.

“See? All okay,” Eddie murmured, needing to add extra reassurance now that he thought he could. Steve shot him a weary little smile, rubbing the guitar pick around his neck once more before pushing down the talk button once more.

“What are we dealing with?” Steve asked, about to put the walkie-talkie back down before the sound of shoes on gravel caught his attention. As Gareth, Rocky, Frank, and Janet walked back around the van, Steve continued “and I’m not by myself right now, so don’t say any stupid shit.”

“Who are you with?” Lucas’s voice said from the walkie-talkie, sounding tinny and electronic.

“And say over next time. Over,” Will added.

“The fucking ‘over’ bullshit,” Steve said to himself with a roll of his eyes before picking it back up. “I’m at the Hideout with Eddie, now what are we dealing with?!”

Silence. Eddie looked at Steve with a raised brow, and when Steve looked around in annoyance, Eddie caught his eye and mouthed the word ‘over’.

“Jesus H,” Steve muttered, looking up at the sky as if begging God to help him. “OVER!”

“Well we don’t know that yet, Steve,” Dustin promptly responded the second Steve’s finger left the button, his tone dripping with far too much sass. "We were too busy looking for you! Over.”

“I’m gonna kill them,” Steve stated, rubbing at his temple, “I’m legitimately going to kill them.”

“Everybody shut up,” A new voice barked. Eddie knew it from somewhere, but he couldn’t place it. She wasn’t one of the kids, Eddie knew that much, but he couldn’t figure it out. “Steve, Jonathan and I will be at the Hideout in five minutes. Do not move. Over and out.”

After a few seconds of staticky silence, Steve groaned, pushing the antennae of the walkie-talkie down and turning it off.

“Of course she’s coming here. Of course,” Steve whispered, unknowingly mirroring Eddie’s exact thought process right after the power outage.

“Wait, wait, wait. Was that Nancy Wheeler?” Janet asked incredulously, her jaw hanging wide open.

No. Nope. There was no way.

“Yeah, it was,” Steve said with a sigh, forcing himself into a standing position and stretching his shoulders.

He was completely nonchalant about it, like it was perfectly normal to have your ex on walkie-talkie speed dial, and it was only natural for her to come collect you like a haggard housewife the second she thought you might be in trouble.

“Nancy Wheeler, your ex girlfriend,” Eddie said dumbly, just to be sure he wasn’t being punked.

“The one and only,” Steve said dryly, becoming more and more himself with every second. It was like hearing Nancy’s voice had flipped a switch, and the vulnerable nervous Steve that had been sitting on the ground by his van was gone in an instant, replaced by a flippant easy going boy that looked like nothing had ever happened to him at all.

It was bizarre, uncanny in a disarmingly normal way. Eddie had always kind of admired Steve’s coolness, how nothing seemed to phase him.

Now it just felt… not disingenuous per say, but more layered than it was before. It wasn’t completely an act, but Steve was definitely hiding so much more than Eddie ever could have assumed.

“Why is Nancy Wheeler coming here?” Eddie asked slowly as he stood up, watching Steve like a hawk and looking for any kind of micro change in his expression. He got nothing. Steve was a brick wall.

“Even if I could tell you, you wouldn’t believe me,” Steve said with a wry smile that didn’t look much like a smile at all. Before he could say anything else, they all heard the sound of tires squealing nearby, and a pair of headlights peeled into the parking lot. Steve moved like a man possessed, jogging around the van and towards the car still speeding into the lot.

“What the fuck was all that?” Rocky said, asking the question all of them were wondering. Eddie shrugged, following Steve’s path and watching as Nancy Wheeler jumped out of the passenger seat of the still parking car, ignoring Jonathan Byers' shouting at her from the driver’s side as she strode towards where Steve had stopped.

“What the hell, Steve?!” She snapped the second she had pulled herself away from the car. “No one knew where you were. You didn’t tell anyone, or leave a note, or anything. What were you thinking?!”

“What was I- Nancy, what are you talking about?” Steve said defensively, turning around to briefly give Eddie a ‘can you believe this’ look before turning back to his ex who was still fuming.

Eddie didn’t really know anything about Nancy Wheeler, it wasn’t like they ran in the same circles whatsoever, but he certainly had never expected to see her like this. There was two high spots of red on her cheeks, and her eyes were flashing in a way that just screamed danger.

“You can’t just disappear out of nowhere! Do you get how irresponsible that is?” Nancy asked rhetorically, not giving Steve a second to answer before she barreled forward, “Mike and the others wanted to make a search party and start riding around on their bikes looking for you. What are you even doing here?”

“I didn’t realize going out was a crime,” Steve said in a moody tone, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Nancy a cool glare.

Things were quickly devolving between the two of them, and as much as Eddie wanted to intervene, he hung back and observed. That was the thing most people didn’t realize about him. Eddie could be quiet and listen when it benefitted him.

“It is if you don’t tell me where you are!” Nancy exploded, throwing her hands up as she did. “Especially if it’s because you’re hiding that you’re doing something dangerous.”

With those words she poignantly turned her glare towards Eddie, as if he personally was holding Steve hostage. Steve’s face screwed into a dark scowl and he stepped so he was back directly in Nancy’s view line, blocking her from the others.

Protecting Eddie from her.

That shouldn’t have made him feel as warm as it did.

“Nancy. I don’t know how you forgot, but let me remind you- We. Broke. Up,” Steve said, each word punching directly out of his chest and exposing just how raw that still fresh wound was. “You’re dating Jonathan now, so what I do, and who I’m friends with, and how I spend my time isn’t your problem anymore.”

“Nance,” Jonathan said, trying to grab Nancy’s arm. She pulled away from his grip, stepping close to Steve.

“Yes, it is my problem! You are still my problem!” She shouted.

Eddie would’ve chalked it all up to crazy ex-girlfriend disease and dragged Steve away from the fight, but something strange was developing. The anger was quickly draining away from Nancy’s features and all that was left was a painful grief, the kind that made Eddie want to turn his head and find anything else to look at. This wasn’t just a jealousy thing, or psycho ex behavior.

This was something more.

“Look, I know we broke up, and I know that’s my fault, but first the lights flickered, then power went out, and none of us could find you,” Nancy said, looking down at the ground as her voice began to waver and her features inevitably turned towards tears. “You weren’t at your house. It was empty, and it was just the pool, and no one there, and I thought- I thought-”

Eddie would never know what Nancy had been trying to say, because Steve enveloped her in his arms at that moment, holding her gently against his chest as he shielded her from the rest of the world.

There was a momentary flare of jealousy that ignited in Eddie’s chest, a second where he felt a blinding, irrational hatred for Nancy Wheeler and everything she was. But then Steve was holding out his other arm to Jonathan, who hesitated for a second and looked extremely uncomfortable, but came closer nonetheless, all three of them sharing an exhausted hug. Jonathan and Nancy put Steve between the two of them, joining their hands between his shoulder blades as they held him close.

Whatever was going on here, it wasn’t romantic. No need to be jealous.

Not that Eddie had any right to be jealous in the first place. It shouldn’t matter that Steve seemed to have some sort of weird magnanimous relationship with his ex and her new boyfriend. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t his concern.

It mattered. It mattered so much.

“I’m fine, see? Right here,” Steve said, slightly muffled by the two people still holding him like he was the most precious object in the universe.

“You can’t do that,” Nancy managed to gasp out, clearly in tears given how thick her voice had gotten, even if Eddie couldn't see them. “I can’t lose you too.”

Too? Who had Nancy lost?

The questions were only continuing to mount, and Eddie wondered if you could get a panic attack just by standing close to someone who had just had one. It was certainly getting harder to breathe the longer he looked at the three of them.

“You’re not losing me,” Steve said firmly, as if he was writing it into law just by saying it out loud, “we aren’t losing anyone again.”

“You can’t know that,” Nancy said, her voice so soft Eddie almost missed it. As she did Jonathan looked up, hooking his chin on Steve’s shoulder as he made eye contact with Eddie.

“Guys,” Jonathan called, reluctantly pulling away and nodding his head towards the rest of Hellfire who were all still standing there. Nancy quickly wiped at her eyes and Steve stepped back, putting distance between him and the couple again.

“Hopper went to the lab,” Nancy said, picking her words slowly and carefully. “He dropped um… her off at my house with the rest of the kids.”

Her?

“How is she?” Steve asked. Well, he knew, but Eddie was still in the dark. Who could ‘her’ be? Nancy had a little sister, didn’t she? Maybe she had a tendency to run off or something.

“She’s freaked out. She passed out when the power outage happened, but we don’t know why yet,” Jonathan answered, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

Steve sighed, swiping a hand across his face and turning around. He jogged over to grab his bag, slinging it over one shoulder as he walked back over.

“Let’s just go. I don’t want to leave the kids alone right now,” Steve said, slipping back into his role as babysitter as easy as breathing. Jonathan and Nancy both nodded, waiting until Steve was in line with them before starting to walk to the car.

It hurt almost, being forgotten, dismissed. It was like they had never even existed, like nothing else that had happened tonight mattered.

It wasn’t like Eddie didn’t know he and the others weren’t Steve’s first choice of friends, but having it so blatantly thrown in his face didn’t feel all that great. There was an extra sting when Eddie considered exactly who those first choice friends were.

Steve would apparently rather spend time with his ex and her new boyfriend over Eddie and his friends.

Whatever. No problem. Eddie shoved the feeling down in his chest, deep where it would bother him all night long, but where it wouldn’t come out in mean lashing words towards anyone else.

But, as he spun on his heel and went to go stomping back towards his van, a shout behind his back stopped Eddie in his tracks.

“Eddie!”

Steve was running over to them, the back passenger door of Jonathan’s car still wide open. He slid to a stop right in front of Eddie, panting just a bit as he reached up towards Eddie’s neck.

“I totally forgot,” Steve said apologetically, expertly unclasping the necklace and reaching over. Eddie shivered, sucking a sharp breath in as Steve’s arms wrapped around his neck, fingers just barely grazing Eddie’s skin as he returned the necklace to its rightful owner.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” Steve murmured, looking up at Eddie with those big cow eyes and a bashful little smile.

“Really?” Eddie said, thrilled but unable to believe it. Steve was probably just being nice, that was all.

“Well, before,” Steve amended, his cheeks turning a soft red as he took one step back, futzing with Eddie’s necklace so it sat perfectly in the center of his chest. “I really liked your band.”

“I’m glad,” Eddie managed to stammer out, both hating and loving the way his entire brain was turning to mush the longer Steve had his hand on his chest. Steve had liked the band, he liked the music.

That didn’t mean he liked Eddie, but there was no denying the thrill that was shooting up Eddie’s spine.

“Seriously. Thank you,” Steve said, patting Eddie right above his heart once more before mercifully pulling away. “It was nice to just get to be a little… normal.”

“Anytime, Sweetheart,” Eddie replied, biting his tongue before he could do something stupid like promise that Steve could be normal with him whenever he wanted.

“By the way you guys are all invited to my place for a Christmas Eve Eve party! It’s on Friday,” Steve said, turning to address all six of them. “I was going to mention it on the ride home but well- Anyway, we’re doing a yankee swap, so bring a present. Oh, and invite Kaiden too.”

“A what?” Frank asked. Eddie also wasn’t sure what ‘Yankee Swap’ meant, but he was never going to turn down an invite to a party. Especially a party at Steve’s. The Harrington house hadn’t been the subject of a rager in quite a while, but if this was going to be anything like those parties, then it was not one to be missed.

Plus it meant more time with Steve.

“Dude!” Jonathan shouted from his car.

“Coming!” Steve called back. He gave Eddie a quick flash of a smile before starting to run towards the car, waving a hand behind him as he did.

“It starts at seven. See you then, Babydoll!”

And then he was gone, disappearing into the car and driving away before any of them could give him a proper answer.

Tag List: @paopaupaus @zerokrox-blog @surferboyzaza @whatever-is-a-good-name @minjintea @addelyin @5ammi90 @hagbaby420 @shinekocreator @bornonthesavage @starxlark @electrick-marionnett @resident-gay-bitch @ash-a-confused-enby @classicdinosaurdeathpose @valon-whomsttf @rotten-lil-goblin @thereindeerlady @love-ya-kash @kerlypride @sparkle-fiend @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @milf-harrington @sadcanadianwinter @gothbat99 @hotcocoaharrington @henderdads @lightwoodbanethings @colorful565 @h0n3y-dw @craterbbox @sourw0lfs @lesliiieeeee @bidisastersworld @tinynebula @ravnlinn @bonescaro @mexmatch @cottagecoredreams @joruni @hellykelly @maegan1116 @farewell-wanderlvst @desertfern @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @anythingforourmoonyedits @eerielake @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sidekick-hero

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 2 months

Note

Hey! I just want to say that I think you are seriously one of the most talented writers I’ve ever read. Terms of Endearment has me in an absolute chokehold.

I was wondering if you had anything about our favorite couple to share with us. I’m like an addict looking for their fix!

Aaaaaaah, thank you so much! I am so happy you like this weird little fic. I still can’t believe that I wasn’t immediately hatebombed to death for writing gross medieval incest smut, haha. And that I’ve been writing for over a YEAR now. Weird!

Hm, things to share. Something inconsequential to the plot, but just a little tidbit. Hmmm.

I know!

Babey is a grade-A clinger in her sleep. A leech. A koala bear firmly attached to the eucalyptus tree. Daemon never enjoyed women who were tactile after intimacy before he married her, but there’s just something about how sweet she looks, burrowed so tightly against him it’s like she’s trying to meld into him. It’s part of his whole thing about being her ‘saviour’; he gets off on it not just physically, but emotionally. Her attachment being expressed so obviously is power to him, and a source of satisfaction in many ways (HE got her and no one else did, HE’s her favourite and not anyone else, HE’s the source of her happiness, and of course that he loves her and he knows she loves him). At first, he tolerated it, but now he craves it. He needs to know that she needs him even when she’s not awake to feel that need.

Daemon is fascinated with Babey’s hair. The Targaryens have straight hair at this point, and Babey’s is a bit wild. Her stylings are necessity rather than vanity, or she’d always look like she’s just rolled out of bed. When she’s getting ready in the morning, he’s ‘busy’ at his desk but it’s really just a pretext to watch her and her ladies putting her hair up. When they fuck, he likes to grab at it. Sometimes he gets himself off to the thought of spilling his seed in her hair. He doesn’t know why. It’s just his THING and he doesn’t have an explanation for it.

Babey’s kinda… really into Daemon after he’s been training. Something about the sweat, the dirt, the flush. It makes her pretty enthusiastic, is all I’ll say. She’s yet to actually MENTION it, though she’s not subtle with her body language. Daemon totally knows, which is why he makes it a point to return to his chambers and make a show of undressing for her.

Hope these were worth the read, lol. Thank you so much for the ask!

#fanfiction asks #terms of endearment headcanons #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen fanfiction

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devildomditzy · 2 years

Text

How they apologize

Tags/ Warning : Mildly suggestive statement in Asmo’s Part

Lucifer

He doesn’t :)

He’s not the avatar of pride for nothin, babey!!

Even if he’s in the wrong, he’ll find a backwards way of apologizing without explicitly saying sorry

Your most recent argument broke out when you felt he was getting a little too carried away with Mammon’s latest punishment

Although you tried to tell yourself it’s not your place, you eventually butt in when the agony on the second oldest’s face becomes too much for you to take

“Lucifer, I think he’s had enough…”, you trail off, trying to quell the worry in your voice

“Oh really MC, if you think so, then how would you like to take his place?”, he threatens as his demon form comes out. Whatever Mammon did must have been diabolical this time. He’s pissed.

Still you can’t hide the fear in your eyes and you freeze a beat too long before apologizing for the interruption and shuffling away, shivering.

As you walk away defeated, he quickly realizes what he’s done. He calls after you, “MC…”

Leaving his brother precariously dangling, he power walks after you, stopping outside of your recently closed door, knocking softly

As your wide eyed, tear stained face opens up, he sighs and he looks down at you. “You really shouldn’t get in my way when I’m disciplining my brothers. I’d hate to see anything bad happen to you if I lost control. I’ve become rather found of you.”

When you catch on to what he’s trying to say, you give a half hearted chuckle before responding, “Okay, I get it. Thank you for being concerned about my well being.”

He gives you a warm smile

“But you still have to cut Mammon down from the ceiling.”

He rolls his eyes and huffs before giving a curt “fine.”

Mammon

Despite his constant denying, you already know you mean the whole world, solar system, galaxy, and universe to this man. So when he upsets you, it’s panic time (tm)

He was fooling around in a game of poker with a few demons you had become well acquainted with and had come to know as his “boys”

It was a bit of a rowdier night, with Mammon having drank a few too many glasses of demonus, but you didn’t mind. Class could be stressful, and you wanted to see him relax a little.

What you didn’t want was for him to lose control of his greed. Unfortunately for you, once he’s thrown a few back, it’s hard for him to help it. So, when the betting stakes begin to be raised, you feel yourself tense up. He had already lost most his money tonight. What else would he have to bet?

Oh no. He wouldn’t. You swear to Diavolo you’ll kill him. But, of course just like clockwork, you see your boyfriend look down at the shining, gold object wrapped around his wrist.

That watch. That damned watch. The one he saw in the window in Majolish months ago and would not shut up about. He had already maxed out Goldie so he couldn’t buy it, but that didn’t stop him from yapping about it every chance he got. You saved up for what felt like forever, taking extra shifts at Hell’s Kitchen to surprise him with it. But, now you see your stupid - adorable yet stupid - boyfriend unhook it from his wrist and slam it down on the table atop the grim already thrown in the pot by the other demons

You sat in silence as you simmered in your anger and watched your boyfriend play another round.

Upon arriving home, you immediately changed into pajamas and got in bed, rolling to face the wall with the intentions of pretending to sleep until he shut up about how he won the jackpot in the final round. It didn’t matter if he won the watch back, he still bet it in the first place. He knows how hard it was for you to get it.

“Aw Doll, did ya see the looks on their faces when I played that hand? Ha Ha, full sweep baby!”, he cheers, seemingly still not catching onto your anger. “Yeah, great. Goodnight”, you flatly respond.

He can immediately tell you’re mad. Oh no, why are you mad? Di-Did he make you mad? Oh fuck, what did he do to make you mad? He’s racking his demonus clouded brain as best as he can for an answer. It takes him awhile, but when sees the watch on his couch atop a pile of grim, it hits him

It’s at this moment Mammon knew he fucked up.

He’s on the bed in a instant, scooping you up into the biggest hug he can manage

“Fuck. Treasure, I’m so sorry. I-I got carried away and I forgot. I forgot how hard ya worked, I-I forgot how much it meant to me. I was blinded by grim. Dammit, I’m so sorry!”, he practically sobs into your back as he clings onto you. Despite if you forgive him or not from this apology, he’s no where near done.

The next day, you awake to find him trying to sneak back into the room with a bouquet of roses and those scones you adore from the bakery in town.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake ya. I just got ya somethin’ and…I’m sorry. And if ya don’t believe me, I’ll do this everyday til ya do.”

Crisis averted 🥹

Levi

Levi may have fallen, but he essentially prays that he never does anything to upset you, because he genuinely wouldn’t know how to fix it

You arrived at his room at 5:15 on the dot, the time you had both planned to meet up to go on a date scheduled last week

You had been looking forward to it for days, and you fussed at your clothes as you waited for the door to open, trying to look your best. You know Levi loves the way you look regardless, but you thought it wouldn’t hurt to put in some extra effort

When the door remains closed, you knock again this time a bit harder. Behind it you hear Levi swear under his breath before shouting “IT’S OPEN!”

You twist the door handle, and the sight in front of you makes your heart drop a little.

In the corner of the room sits your boyfriend, still in his pajamas, hunched over his computer with his headset on

He forgot.

In your anger, you marched right over to him, ripping the headphones off his ears

“Hey, MC! What do you think you’re doing! I’m in the middle of a tournament!”

“Oh, yeah? Well I was in the middle of meeting up with you for our date I thought we we’re both looking forward to, but I guess I’m alone here.”

Levi.exe has stopped working

His face goes beet red as he starts to stammer

“M-Mc I’m so sorry! How could I forget! God, I’m such a Normie!”

With a huff, you turn to leave the room, but you stop when he grabs your hand

Thinking that this was a rather bold move from the third born, you let him continue.

“Please MC, I’ll do anything to make it up to you. We can do anything you want to do today, we can go anywhere you wanna go! We can even go to that coffee shop you like!”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “I thought you said that coffee shop was for normies?”, you question

“Yeah, well today I guess I’m one of them. How else would I have forgotten I have a d-d-date with someone as p-p-p”

“Pretty?”, you help finish the word he can’t manage to get out

His face flushes. “Yes. That word as you. Please, give me another chance?”

you do 💕

Asmo

Ahem.

YOU KNOW THAT ONE SCENE IN HOWL’S MOVING CASTLE WHERE HOWL THROWS A GIGANTIC FIT BECAUSE HE DYED HIS HAIR THE WRONG COLOR?

yea that :)

You used his bathtub with all his nice, luxurious bubble baths, soaps, exfoliators, and a nice hair mask you found on a shelf next to his large, ornate vanity. The bottle was pretty much empty, but you knew your Asmo wouldn’t mind

Oh boy, you sure were dead wrong.

It starts sweetly, when you hear him sing ,”MC, would you please be a dear and grab my hair mask off the vanity for me?”, while he’s in the shower. You figure this was just another attempt to get him to join you, but then you remember.

“Oh, sorry Asmo, I think I used the last of it last time I was in there.”

“…what.”

“…WHAT!!?”

You see the shower curtain get yanked furiously to one side as Asmo stands before you in his demon form.

“…do you always shower fully clothed or?” you are not helping your situation in the slightest

“Do you even KNOW what happens to my hair if I don’t use that product? Did you even stop to think? Now it’ll be frizzier than Belphegor’s bed head!”

Pulling out the first names. Oh yeah, he was mad

“I-I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I use your stuff all the time, you know that. I’ll just go get you more,” you stammer

“You better! I can’t leave my room looking like this!”

It turns out this specific hair mask is specially made by everyone’s favorite in-house sorcerer. You practically skitter to Solomon’s room and beg him to make more. He needs a few special ingredients though, so guess who’s going on a quest!? (it’s you, congratulations :) ) But, at this point you don’t care. You’ve never seen Asmo so angry

When you knock on his door, he opens it to find you, battered and dirty with clothes torn up from the journey and slightly singed from Solomon’s castings, but with the new jar of product in your hands

He takes it from you and twirls around the room before looking back at your form, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you to sit on the bed with him

You see a rare, genuine moment of vulnerability from Asmo as he softly says, “I guess it wasn’t that beautiful of me, lashing out like that. Thank you for going through all that trouble for me. I’m really sorry if I scared you.” He pulls you in for a hug, honestly you’re surprised he even think about touching you in this state. He pulls away from the hug before poking his tongue playfully between his lips, adding -

“Be honest though, did my rougher handling turn you on?”

Satan

So, you’re dating the embodiment of wrath, huh?

That’s rough, buddy.

To be clear he tries his absolute hardest to never take it out on you

But sometimes his rage can be blinding

It’s after he sees you talking to his oldest brother that something just snaps within him. Out of all his brothers, why’d you have to be talking to Lucifer. And why did you look so happy?

He watches carefully as you throw your head back laughing. Your beautiful laugh, it’s like music to his ears. He could listen to it all day. You looked so carefree. But then,

Lucifer reaches a hand out, and places it on your shoulder. A menial gesture. It could have meant anything. But of course, he could never hold back when it came to you.

Immediately shifting forms, he jumps between the two of you, pulling you back by the shoulder to dizzyingly move you away from Lucifer before getting in his brother’s face

“Exactly what do you think you’re doing with my partner, dearest brother.” You can hear the venom dripping from his words. But of course, Lucifer would never hold back when it came to teasing Satan.

“We were simply sharing in a pleasant conversation, one that I think MC and I would like to get back to if you don’t mind. Isn’t that right, MC?”

Satan turns to you, fury in his eyes. “Oh, is that so? Well please, don’t let me interrupt while you snuggle up to every boy in this house!”, he snidely comments while glaring down at you.

“S-Satan it’s not like that”, you stammer, “I was only asking about our next student council meeting.”

Looking between the two of you, he continues his rampage. “We’ll, isn’t that convenient? Blame it on the student council meeting. Can you blame the laughter on the student council meeting? What about the touching? You sure didn’t seem like you wanted my brother here to remove his grip on you-”

As tears well up in your eyes, you decide you can’t take it anymore. You cut him off, “Why do you have to be such a jerk! I can’t believe you’d accuse me of that!” You sprint off down the hallway towards your dorm room.

Aw, fuck. He never meant to make you cry, it’s just, shouldn’t you be laughing with him? Shouldn’t you be smiling at him? You were his and he wanted to be the only one who makes you feel special.

He gives it some time before he approaches your room. He know it’s best if you both cool down before trying to sort this out.

When you meekly answer to enter, he steps into the room, your favorite book in hand.

“I figured you could use something to cheer you up. May I?” You allow him to join you on the bed and he begins reading to you. A few chapters in he stops to take you in

“I suppose I let my sin get the best of me. I promise you I am working on it, love.” He finishes his sentence with a kiss to your forehead. “I promise I’ll become less.. well, you know.”

Beel

Never has to apologize because he never hurts you UwU

Okay but the one time he did upset you was when Luke had taken an interest towards recipes from the human realm

You were talking to him all about dishes your family would make every holiday, reminiscing on your fond memories. It made you feel a little homesick, a fact you tried to hide from the young angel, but unfortunately one he could pick up on

At that moment, Luke declared that he was going to find a way to make you your great aunt’s banana pudding one way or another to cheer you up! He demands you wrote down all the ingredients for him.

With shopping list in hand and the help of Simeon, Barbados, and a “human realm” street vendor, Luke was able to collect everything he needed to whip up your familial recipe, with your help of course.

Setting it in the fridge to solidify, you thanked the angels and demon for trying to bring you some for of comfort from home while you were away. At Simeon’s suggestion, you all decide to watch a movie together while you wait. It didn’t even cross your mind that Beel considers anything in the kitchen fair game…

You could barely hold in your excitement when you bound into the kitchen, ready to divvy out portions and get a little piece of home. You enter to find Beel, just finishing up a bowl of something or other in his hand. You give him a big smile as you open the fridge, “Oh Beel, Luke and I just made a human realm dessert! It’s my great aunt’s recipe, you’ve got to try so-”

You cut yourself off as you see no sign of the pudding in the fridge. Your eyes make their way over to the bowl in Beel’s hand. Oh…

It was literally just pudding. They have it here in the Devildom. But you can’t stop the tears from gathering on your lash line. You just wanted a little reminder from home. And now that little reminder lay in the stomach of Demon in front of you

“Beel, you couldn’t have asked first? Clearly this wasn’t Devildom food, and it’s not pretty enough to be Celestial realm food, so, you know..” you trail off, voice getting shaky

His heart breaks at the sight of you shaking, he’s immediately stepping forwards towards you.

“MC, I’m sorry. The hunger was just overbearing, I didn’t really think about it. Is there anyway I can remake it? If not, I’ll ask Lucifer if I can go to the human realm to get ingredients for another one.”

He would scour across all three realms just to see you smile again. Even after he fixes it, he’ll feel terrible about it for months

Makes sure to ask you if something in the fridge is yours now every time before binge eating

Belphie

It’s always the same thing with Belphie. He knows what he did. He knows there’s nothing he can do to erase that. He knows that no matter how many times, in however many different ways he apologizes the trauma will still be there for you.

And it tears him apart.

At first he apologized through flirtatious quips, offering himself up to you. But you still tended to shy away from him

He then tried gifts, leaving flowers with a note outside your door, or leaving stuffed animals on your bed

He knows no matter what he does he can’t make what he did go away. It happened. It was real. And even though it didn’t happen to this version of you…

it was still you

It doesn’t matter if you forgive him. He’ll never forgive himself.

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visforvengeance · 3 months

Text

heat lightning

Requested by: no one<3

Notes: Howdy! here's chapter twooooo. so i think i should add that it's italicized because all of this in these last two chapters are in the past, before carm becomes the owner of the beef. but the next chapter will be in the present starting from s1.

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x Reader

Warnings: cursing? she/her pronouns. donna is a warning on her own. all angst babey! please let me know if I missed anything and thanks for reading <;3.

masterpost

Y/N sat in the living room with Sugar and Mikey, chaos surrounded them as Donna zoomed around the kitchen. She had to physically restrain Natalie from asking Donna if she was ok. She could see the way her eyes darted between her and the kitchen door behind her. She couldn’t bear to see her friend suffering, so she offered to go with Natalie into the kitchen. Grateful, Natalie held her hand as they approached slowly.

The mess that covered the kitchen hadn’t phased them one bit as they were used to these things. Y/N softly nudged Natalie forward, still holding her hand tightly as a way of showing support. Natalie looked at the girl beside her and nodded, letting go of her hand. She walked towards the counter, shifting her weight onto it as she took a deep breath, preparing herself for the consequences that could happen. “Hey, mom?” Natalie called out, nervously. “You okay?”

Donna whipped around to look at her daughter. The crazy look in her eyes sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine. “Of course, I’m fucking okay, Sugar. Do you need to ask that every five fucking seconds?!” Y/N shook her head, dragging Natalie away as Donna began yelling about god knows what. She rubbed her friend’s shoulders as she cried into her sweater, softly patting her hair. “It’s ok, babe. Just take a deep breath.” The pair sat outside, Donna’s yelling crescendoed and decrescendoed as Mikey opened and closed the door. He looked tired as he stood over his crying sister. Mikey squeezed in beside the two girls, throwing his arm around Natalie and pulling her into his side. Y/N frowned and looked at Mikey while he began shaking his head. She began heading back inside, before squeezing Nat’s shoulder. “I’ll let you guys know when dinner is ready,” Mikey patted her hand in acknowledgment.

When Y/N walked back inside, she heard his voice. It caused her to stagger her movements. She hadn’t fully prepared herself to see Carmen when she agreed to this dinner. When they last saw each other, so many things were happening that they didn’t have time for each other. Donna flew around the kitchen like a bat out of hell, Mikey was desperately trying to calm down his crying sister, they each had their respective problem to deal with. Or rather they were choosing to avoid each other like the plague, neither one of them wanted to admit that to themselves.

Carmen knew that she’d be at the Christmas dinner. Sugar was his way into her life as she’d tell him how Y/N was doing so he didn’t have to ask himself. He really hadn’t meant to distance himself even more from the girl. He hadn’t realized how fucking difficult culinary school could be, or maybe his teacher was just that good at making him feel like shit. Add that on top of what exactly he was missing back home, and his self-doubt. Carmen was struggling with the crippling need to prove himself to his mother and Mikey and everyone ever. But, not himself. Never himself.

He knew about how well she was doing in school, how her mother was sick, and some guy she was seeing that she liked. That caught his attention. What did he look like? Does he make her laugh? Does he- Natalie had to go. She and this mystery guy plagued his mind heavily, he could hardly focus. He had no one to blame but himself, though. Maybe if he called her more instead of less and remembered to send the gift for her birthday. And, maybe if he wasn’t such a pussy, he could be the one making her smile every morning. Like he used to.

So, here he stood in his childhood kitchen staring at his childhood best friend/love. He could’ve sworn time moved by slowly, his focus was only on her. She looked a bit older but still the same as the day he left her. Her hair was longer and her body had filled out more. She swapped the colorful graphic hoodies for more neutral-toned clothes like the caramel-colored overcoat that wrapped around her frame loosely. She was still as beautiful as he remembered. For a moment there, he pictured what life would have been like with her if he hadn’t left.

He snapped back to reality when Donna screamed his name for the ninth time and Y/N had gone to help Richie with Tiffany. She didn’t say a word to him before she walked away. He watched as a frown crept onto her features upon discovering he was there. That hurt a bit, but he knew it was the least he deserved.

She hurried to get away from him. She should’ve known better than to expect that he wouldn’t come but she hadn’t prepared herself for when she saw him. He looked like Carmy but tired. Like the years hadn’t been kind to him. But, his curls still lay wildly against his head. In all directions as if he’d been running his hand through them when he was stressed, something he always did that she adored. The red sweater both hugged his body but fit loosely in a way that only Carmen could pull off. He hadn’t changed one bit. He was still awkward, still looking like he’d been through the worst days of his life.

She knew that there would be some kind of conversation to happen between them, that was unavoidable. Her mind raced as she thought of everything she felt about him these last two years. Unwavering love, hate, yearning, resentment. It was all too much. She feared that once she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself. When it came to Carmen, she always indulged herself. She allowed herself to hang onto his every word. She couldn’t manage that this time. She feared that if she did so, she may lose herself in the end.

When she came back into the kitchen, in desperate need of Sprite for Tiffany, she walked into a complete shitstorm. Unfazed, though, she walked over to the fridge. Only to find a severe lack of the fizzy drink. Though, she could’ve sworn she told Mikey to get some. She racked her brain figuring out how to remedy the situation, when she suddenly remembered there was an award-winning chef-to-be near. Surely, he’d know how to make something.

“Carmen,” he wasn’t looking for it, but he heard it. Her soft voice overpowered all the yelling, clear as day, he heard it. He tuned out everything else, giving her his full attention, as always. “What?” What? How can I help? Please let me help. She knew him like the back of her hand, still. He’d do anything for her. “I need you to make some kind of seltzer-y beverage for Tiffany,” she held her hands up in prayer form, silently begging.

This was the first time he’d spoken to her in years, he hadn’t meant to stare at her all wide-eyed. She snapped him out of his trance, “y-yeah, just give me a minute.” She smiled, grateful for him. Everyone else in the kitchen began spouting mess, taunting Caremn for his skills, She admired him and what he could do. Carmen was beyond talented, she didn’t know how he couldn’t see it. She watched as he moved gracefully around the kitchen, a shocking difference in comparison to Donna. She could watch him all day. He managed to dodge Donna as he handed her ice cold drink, garnished with a single mint leaf and a slice of lemon. She thanked him and handed the drink to Richie who paced around the kitchen, conversing with Donna.

Mikey and Richie had caught Carmen in the hallway, happily mentioning Claire. Claire was a girl who had a crush on Carmen all throughout grade school and well into high school. During junior year, Claire and Carmen had a fling, which Y/N didn’t like so much. Carmen didn’t force her to third wheel, he always made sure to include her when it was time they hung out with friends. But, it had her wishing it was her instead.

The fucking love of his life, they called her. She listened more as they went on about how her body had changed and she looked more like a woman or whatever, she couldn’t bear to stand it. She thanked god as she heard Carmen protesting. “You fucking what? What the hell do you mean?

“Woah, woah, Carmen, calm down.” Carmen failed to keep his cool as he listened to his brother. “Bro, no one asked you to fucking do that, what the fuck.” Mikey scoffed, “Hold up. I was just trying to help you out, Carm. Look, I mentioned the fucking Napa thing- I mean the fucking Copenhagen shit, alright?” Carmen contemplated blowing his brains out about this later, he couldn’t believe Mikey. “Why? Like, why are you like this? I’m not in love with her. I mean, we had a fling? In High school? Fuckin 5 years ago? Be serious, guys. Come on.” Their bickering began to grow louder only to be interrupted by Donna. Thank fucking christ.

Y/N roamed the halls aimlessly, for once shit had settled down. She had no one to tend to. She decided to have a seat outside and take a breath of fresh air. What she hadn’t expected was to find Carmen sitting on the stairs before her. She took a seat next to him, placing her hands between her thighs for warmth. “Hi, Carmy.” He jumped as he heard her voice, he really wasn’t expecting her to speak to him. Let alone sit beside him. But, he responded, nonetheless. “Hey,” he hoped she didn’t hear how his voice shook, “hanging in there?” Carmen knows firsthand just how crazy shit can get in his home.

What the hell could she say to him after 2 years, though? ‘Hey, Carmen. It’s so good to see you. I still want you by the way!’ Fuck. “Barely. You?” Let’s see, his alcoholic mother invited him home for Christmas dinner, and then proceeded to terrorize the entire family. Oh! And, the girl he’s loved his whole life is here, too! The girl he fucking ignored for two years, his best friend. It was all a hot mess.

“Fucking hardly,” she gave him a smirk. He smiled. Truly smiled for the first time in god knows how long. “After spending the day in this shithole? It gets the best of us, doesn’t it?” He looks out to the street, silently remembering their childhood, “sure does.”

She wanted to know what New York was like, his life there. Was it really so demanding that it cost them their friendship? Or..whatever they had between them. She wasn’t as delusional as Carmen. She stopped denying the fact that there was something more between them and anyone who looked at them could see it too.

“Was it worth it in the end?” He hadn’t expected her to ask that, he was still processing the fact that she was speaking to him. “Was what worth it?” Carmen, the smartest guy she knew, could be a real dumbass sometimes. She used to think that he was just fucking with her, but he’s really just like that. “The leaving, the ghosting, everything that has happened in the last two years that pulled you away from me.”

She tried to keep her anger down. She hadn’t been able to express her feelings to him because he never answered the fucking phone. Not for her, anyway. She almost forgot what his voice sounded like. She almost forgot how he sounded when he yelled. How he sounded when he told her he loved her. How he cried. How he smelled. She almost forgot him.

Carmen didn’t know how to answer that. Hell, he asked himself that every day and never came up with an answer. He thought about his time in New York. The new things he learned, his mentors. Was it worth it? “Yes,” he whispered. He looked up into her eyes, and her watery ones stared back at him. “But, if I could do it all over again, I’d take you with me.”

If he could go back to the night he left, he’d kiss her and beg her to come with him. They’d get an apartment together, and she’d attend Columbia University, and they’d be happy. Together. And, she’d go.

“I loved you, Carmen.” Her voice was low. But it echoed in Carmen's head. Loved? His worst nightmare is in full effect. “I loved you from the moment I first met you. I played it off as just friends being friends but the things I’ve done and the words I said? Friends don’t do that.” He had to have known, right? They were each other’s first kiss. And second. And third.

“During freshman year, I realized it. When I found out you were dating Claire, it was the worst day of my life. I felt so sick-“ “That’s why you missed school that day.” He thought back on that day. He was so excited to tell her he’d finally got a girlfriend and that it was Claire, the girl he had a crush on. The girl he used to get over her. He remembered how quickly her mood had changed as soon as he told her the news. She told him that she had to do something for her mother and he didn’t hear from her or see her until Monday and everything was fine again.

Her voice trembled as she spoke, “Then college came and you were leaving and I hated myself for not saying something then. Then college happened and we were fading until there was nothing left.” She turned her head to look at him, sniffling. “How do you stop loving someone you’ve spent most of your life wanting?” How when your whole world is him? The people you hang around, the places you visit, it’s all him.

“I love you,” he says to her. He shut down any girl that tried to get with him because they weren’t her. “Claire was a pawn. To try and get over you.” He realized how bad that sounded, but he didn’t care, at least he was being honest. “It didn’t work. I spent all my time looking for you in her. She wasn’t you.” You couldn’t even call it a relationship, whatever they had. It lasted 3 days and never got farther than holding hands. He was starting to feel bad for how much he wished Claire was Y/N. So he ended it.

“I could blame being busy and culinary school for not talking to you but it was just me. I got too into my head, I let myself believe that you deserved better, that your life would be better without me in it.” His voice cracked as he spoke. For the first time in a long time, he was finally being honest.

“So, you decided for me?” He sighed as he realized that he had decided for her. “I’d have chosen you again and again because, Carmen, you are so much more than you realize.”

“So, what now?” He had to go back to New York soon. He only has a year left but who knows if he’ll even come back home after?

She starts teaching at her new school next year. Fresh out of college, everything will be crazy. “We’ll see, Carmen.”

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear

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dankmaths · 10 months

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god fuckign dammit i cant stop thinking about thefucking hospital scene

just rewatched it and i don't want to spend 5 hours formatting a long unhinged twitter thread so here we are. i am mishmashing the game and anime and manga scenes together in my personal canon blender. p4 spoilers of course

cause like, naoto is the one to suggest they throw namatame into the TV. and kanji's on board with it too. but the one yu has to fight over it, the one yu has to think carefully about and talk down, is fucking yosuke hanamura.

of course everyone has a personal stake in it considering namatame was going around kidnapping everyone, but yosuke specifically...

he phrases it like "we have to stop him before he hurts anyone else," but it seems like a big part of his motive is revenge. saki's kindness meant a lot to him, regardless of how real it was, or selfish his motive is, and it wasn't fair she had to die. so now he's gonna kill namatame. and it doesn't matter if that goes against his morals, or if no one else is willing to do it. he is absolutely dead set on killing namatame (pun intended). the only thing stopping him from doing it is yu.

it's ironic looking back. because like yosuke, namatame also lost someone important to him, and is trying to use his power to do what he thinks is right in his own way... just like yosuke wanted to be a hero, namatame wanted to be a savior, but yosuke is too blinded by rage in the moment to see that. the big difference is who got to them first. yosuke's had yu with him the whole time to keep him grounded, and eventually, the whole investigation team- namatame got adachi.

(side note- i more often think about yosuke+adachi parallels; how they're both bored with everything, but yosuke has the team and adachi pushes everyone away, but that's not really relevant rn lol)

there's also the scene where yu goes to confront the true killer alone, and yosuke's waiting outside when he comes back. and at that point he's not angry anymore, just… disappointed. (feelsbadman) but i don't think it's because he changed his mind.

after you calm him down in the hospital, he's STILL thinking about doing it:

(another side note- the va in this scene is top notch. this line gave me chills rewatching it. first time i saw the hospital scene i was getting a little scared lol)

and after learning the true killer's identity he fucking hates adachi. even after defeating him he never really forgives him. he still gets pissed and tries to attack adachi when he shows up unexpectedly in ultimax:

yosuke was 100% willing to kill someone, and he'd 100% do it again if his partner gave the okay. but as much as he hates adachi, he understands that he's important to yu, enough to know yu would break their promise and sneak into the TV alone. and despite how he might feel, he doesn't want yu to lose someone important to him too.

there's also the scene in the anime after the hospital, where after yu tries to send everyone home promising he'll be okay, yosuke comes back to comfort him. he's still upset, but he's deferring to yu's leadership and more importantly, making sure that his partner is okay comes first.

that's why i think it's great the anime puts the fist fight after the hospital scene. cause he spends his whole social link struggling with his grief and insecurity and jealousy; and then, in december, with tensions running high and these nasty revelations about himself and awful feelings swirling inside, it all finally comes to a head. and he tries to get it all out in the only way he knows how: two dudes beating the shit out of each other. Thats True Love Babey.

not much of a point to all this, except that i really love yosuke's character (and souyo) lol. something is wrong with him. I Know What He Is. he's like the team mood maker and he's always joking around (and i think golden especially looooves to play him up for comic relief), but perhaps the moments when he lets the veneer slip are the moments where he shines the most.

#p4 spoilers #“i like it when yosuke stops joking around”#(draws almost exclusively yosuke joking around)#“i dont want to spend 5 hrs formatting a twitter thread”#(spends 5 hrs formatting a tumblr essay)#Welp #i usu keep the musings to myself cause saying all this shit out loud makes me feel delusional #persona 4

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catopoliscat · 24 days

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control / choso kamo/fem!reader.

you ask choso to take control for the evening. he tries his best.

tags: nsfw. 18+. fem!reader. established relationship. canon!verse but no timeline specified. very soft!dom choso but also kind of not. kissing. blowjob/slight deepthroating. love, love, love. choso would rather slit his throat than hurt you and that's on canon babey. service!top choso. begging/pleading, not from you. porn without plot, really. no use of y/n or any other placeholders. ever.

wc: 4.2k

a/n: largely unedited but this is how we move; also i want to swallow choso whole; also also i may do a part 2, maybe maybe

mdni.

You think Choso looks adorable like this.

He’s standing across from where you’re kneeling, feet slightly parted, his fingers twitching idly by his side. You see the skin stretch taut across the bony protrusions of his knuckle with every flex. A pair of grey sweatpants is all he wears, the baggy fabric hanging low on his angular hips. The fading sunlight catches against his dark hair, still perched in the two little buns that you had grown to adore. His bare chest, pale skin warmed by the light, rises with every breath, though you’re quick to notice it’s more erratic than usual.

He was just cute. Taller than you, wider than you, perhaps in some cases stronger than you. But cute. Undeniably, mouth-wateringly cute.

Especially like this. When he was nervous.

He shifts his weight, bare feet shuffling a little again the floorboards. The creak rings out against the warm air of your bedroom. The half-curse looks down at you, his stony features pulled messily into an expression you can only describe as ‘unsure’.

You’re completely naked, of course. It’s impossible to be insecure about your own form right now, not with the way Choso is looking at you. The nervousness on his face is offset by the dark blush painting his ears, chest and pallid cheeks, offsetting the darkness of the mark across his nose.

His eyes dart across your form, never setting in one place for too long. Your lips, collarbones, breasts, thighs—the hands resting on top of them. His eyes linger for a while on your nipples particularly, pebbled from the air and the intensity of his gaze.

But even amidst that hunger, the familiar darkness of his gaze any time his eyes fall on your body—especially exposed like this—is an undeniable trepidation. Anxiety.

“It’s okay,” you murmur softly, looking up at him. A soft smile twinges on your lips. “Go on.”

His fists clench once more, a knuckle cracks. After a long silence, filled only by a small breath, he takes one more hesitant step toward you, closing the distance.

A restless impatience and anticipation claws at you, but you wait. You understood what you were asking of him was a lot, for him, in this circumstance. With you.

A thousand other men would have leapt at a chance like this, to take control, to assert, to dominate. A thousand other men would have salivated, reduced to little more than their baser instincts and primal want. A thousand other men wouldn’t have hesitated to abuse this opportunity, to drain it of all it was worth until you were unsatisfied and used.

But Choso Kamo, your Choso Kamo, wasn’t a thousand other men. He cared, he loved; with a passion that overshadowed almost anything else. The mere idea of taking control, of telling you rather than asking, to take what he wanted without reservation, clearly unnerved him. Even the possibility of overstepping, of pushing too far, of even potentially hurting you was enough to have him pause—even when you were naked, exposed, on your knees before him.

And that spoke books about his character. Curse or not.

You meet Choso’s eyes as he looks down at you. The soft smile on your lips, laced with tenderness, adoration, and love doesn’t waver. His eyes flick down to your lips, his own lips part.

He goes to say something, thinks better of it, and closes his lips again. Instead, he reaches out a large hand, clammy fingertips brushing against your forehead tenderly, testing the waters. When you don’t recoil or bat his hand away (why would you?), and instead lean into his touch, he releases something like a soft sigh of relief.

His fingers linger near your temple, brushing down against your ear, your jaw, until they reach your chin. He tilts your head up with such a gentle touch your heart aches. You oblige willingly, of course, and as your lips part, he finally leans down.

His kiss is soft and tender as it always is. Restrained. His lips move against yours with no rush or urgency, and had it not been for the way his fingers trembled against your chin, you would have thought it was a simple kiss, nothing more.

Like always, however, his own hunger crawls up the back of his throat untamed, and the kiss starts to deepen quickly. It grows wetter, his tongue brushing against your lower lip like a whisper, a soft groan pouring against your skin as his nose dimples the skin of your cheek.

You want to stand and reach up, wind your arms around your neck and tug him closer until your breasts press against the hard planes of his chest. Even without a slither of space between, Choso would pull you closer still, as if trying to merge your bodies into one. His grip would be tender, but his muscles would shake with restraint.

You don’t move, however. You wanted Choso to take. And this is how he’d learn.

As if sensing something amiss—possibly the missing sensation of your fingers on his scalp or the warmth of your body against his own, Choso pulls away from the kiss. His dark eyes flick down to you, concern knitting his brow.

You simply look up at him, your gaze almost coy despite the way your gums pulse and your heart races in your chest. You want nothing more than to practically pounce, but Choso wasn’t the only one capable of restraint.

As if forced to finally use his words, his lips part. “Am I doing something wrong?”

That urge to pounce returns tenfold. You want to kiss and caress every part of his skin, hear those deep groans and feel his fingertips sink into your flesh needily.

Once more, you hold yourself back.

His fingertips pull back from your chin and he straightens, though a slight hunch remains in his back, as if he couldn’t bear to fully separate you two just yet. With a glance down, you can see the way his cock sits heavy against his sweatpants, half-hard from a simple kiss already. It twitches under your gaze, but you tear your eyes away to look back up at him.

“Nothing's wrong, Choso,” you reply instead, clearly sensing his need for affirmation. “You’re doing fine. Keep going.” You pull his hand back down to your cheek, guiding him to cup it, and he does so without hesitation. “Go on. Tell me what you want.”

A thumb brushes against your cheekbone softly. You watch as his mouth bobs like a fish for a moment.

“Touch me,” he whispers, his voice low, gravelly.

“Where?”

“Anywhere,” he breathes out instantly. You give him a pointed eyebrow, and make no move to free your hands from their grip on your thighs. He swallows again, need warring with his hesitance. “M-My stomach.”

With a satisfied hum, you rise on your knees a little, your eyes never breaking from his. You plant your hands firmly on his upper stomach, just under his pectoral, feeling the mass of muscle underneath twitch. He lets out a relieved breath, as if your touch was the only thing he needed, as if he couldn’t bear to be without it.

Slowly, oh so slowly, you let your hands drag down, down, down. You skim across the hard ridges and dips, fingertips caressing every inch softly, lovingly. His eyelids flutter, his back arches slightly. Large hands come down to rest against your shoulders, the touch barely there. More to ground him than anything else.

Your hands start to pull inward as they reach his belly button, thumbs brushing against the faint trail of hair that descends below it. You slow down even more here, restraining yourself from leaning forward and following the path of your fingers with your lips. You adored the sounds he’d make when you did that.

As you reach the waistband of his sweatpants, you stop. You let your fingertips skim along the edge of it, tracing it—clearly ignoring the tent of his heavy cock weighing against it, fully hard now.

Choso’s Adam’s apple bobs as he looks down at you. His brows twitch once more, clearly expecting you to do what you usually wasted little time with doing… before he remembers why you were even on your knees to begin with. Why he was standing above you. The whole point of this.

“Take them off,” he mutters, a little more confidence in his voice now arousal was bolstering him.

With a pleased smile, you hook your fingers into the fabric and peel them down his legs with the same meticulous slowness as you had caressed his abdomen. Fabric mid-thigh, his cock springs free, and the grip on your shoulders tightens in response. It bobs, hanging heavy underneath its own weight, the tip beginning to glisten with desire already.

Sweatpants on the floor, he kicks them aside, his eyes never leaving you. Standing before you, just as naked as you now, he moves one hand from your shoulder to your cheek.

“Touch me,” he groans, his voice thick, almost desperate. “Please.”

You want to chastise him for pleading when he was supposed to be the one in control, but you bite your tongue. Old habit died hard, you suppose.

Instead of going straight for his cock, like he so clearly wants, you instead run your hands up his legs. The moment your fingertips touch the inside of his ankles, his breath hitches, surprise and slight confusion painting his features. As you slowly drag your hands upward, however, teasing the backs of his knees and the sensitive skin of his thighs, he catches on quickly.

You’re touching him, as he so vaguely requested.

Thumbs pressing into the pale skin on the inside of his thighs, brushing against faded purple marks in the shape of your mouth, you continue upward until you reach his groin.

His cock twitches. His breath stutters.

And then you work your way back down again; down, down, down to his ankles once more.

The air deflates out of him, a strange noise you’ve never heard of bubbling up at the back of his throat. You’ve teased and riled up Choso plenty of times, it was one of your favourite pastimes when you were feeling particularly patient and deviant—and he knew it.

Typically, he was content to let you do so. Enjoyed it, even. You think there’s very, very little Choso wouldn’t let you do to him, so long as you touched him. Loved him. And no matter how much you teased, edged or wound him up tighter than a spring, you always made sure he was taken care of. Always.

But you’re not sure whether it was the situation, the drop of dominance he was learning how to swallow, or sheer impatience—but he tires of slight touches and teasing grazes.

Choso doesn’t use his words straight away, and instead his hand moves from your cheek and shoulder to your wrists. His grip is slightly firmer than usual as he pulls them away from his thighs.

He takes a deep breath as he looks at you, holding your wrists up, a glimmer in his eye that asks you a silent question. You merely smile softly at him.

Choso looks at your wrists in his hand, the way you let your fingers dangle lifelessly, waiting for orders. He thinks for a moment, and you allow him. After all, it wasn’t all that long ago that Choso was a complete virgin. Lust, sex, and kink were all incredibly fresh still, but he seemed content to explore it all, as long as it was with you.

“Put your hands… behind your back,” he murmurs finally.

Now we’re getting somewhere, you think.

He loosens his grip on your wrists and you slip your hands out easily. You let your hands fall to your thighs again, before slowly winding them behind your back.

Another shaky breath leaves his lips as he looks down at you like this; looking up at him, lips slightly parted, arms behind your back—a flush across your chest. His gaze lingers on your eyes, however, particularly on the slight crease in the corners as you smile.

“Good,” he mumbles, seemingly mirroring your own praise that you never failed to shower upon in him. His hand returns to your cheek, brushing the back of his fingers against your skin. Cupping it again, his thumb traces the outline of your bottom lip, and even before he says, you part your lips. A soft moan leaves his own lips. “G-good.”

Tentatively, he pushes his thumb into your mouth, and you close your lips around it. Even from down here, even against the darkness in his eyes, you catch the way his pupils dilate, a choked sound hitching in his throat.

He was getting into this.

You suck lightly, running your tongue over the pad of his thumb, tasting his skin. The familiar taste of him fills your mouth; the salt of his skin, the faint traces of copper and iron—blood—that always seemed to cling to him.

Choso presses his thumb down against your tongue, pinning it to the floor of your mouth. Your mouth falls open slightly, a soft breath leaving your lips as saliva wells in your mouth. A drop of pre-cum oozes down the side of Choso’s cock, and he clearly decides he can wait no longer.

Pulling his thumb out of your lips, he grasps his own cock, exhaling a ragged breath at his own touch. He shuffles a little closer, and your mouth salivates further as you anticipate what he’s about to do.

“Open your mouth, pl-“ he cuts himself off with a swallow. “Open your mouth.”

You do. Your jaw falls open, your tongue peeking out a little. Choso’s eyes lock onto the sight, his cock throbbing in his grasp. He pushes his hips forward, and the leaking tip of his cock brushes against your tongue.

A sharp pant leaves his lips as his brows twitch inward. His hips buck forward, as you expected them to, his cock sliding a little further into your mouth, but not quite pushing past further than one or two centimetres.

You go to close your lips, like you’ve done a hundred times before for him even if you always struggled to accommodate his length and girth—but with great reluctance, Choso pulls back, removing his cock from your tongue.

“Not yet,” he pants. “K-Keep your mouth open.” Faint surprise colours your features, and Choso must catch it because he looks sheepish for a moment, the flush across his face and body deepening a touch. You smile though, and keep your mouth dutifully open.

He pushes forward again, his hand still gripping the base of his heavy cock. He brushes against your tongue once more, before sliding his hand up the shaft of his cock. A glimmering pearl of pre oozes from the tip, pooling on your tongue, and the groan that leaves his lips you feel in your own chest.

The faintly salty taste of him makes your eyelid flutter, and you resist the urge to lap at his cock greedily.

Seemingly content with this for now, Choso continues his slight, minute movements, softly thrusting the sensitive tip of his cock against your taste buds whilst his hand stroked his base. Tender moans fall from his lips, breathy and pitched, and you watch as his eyes fall closed.

Whilst enjoying the sight of Choso enjoying himself at his own leisure and pace, you couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t fully using your mouth. Although your lips always had to stretch taut around him, his tip slipping down the back of your throat causing you to often gag and splutter, you enjoyed giving him head. You loved the pleasure on his face, though often knitted with concern. You enjoyed the slight discomfort of taking him orally, the thought of his pleasure overriding all thoughts but of him.

With a theory in your mind, you close your lips around his cock suddenly, sucking the tip. Choso’s eyes snap open, a bleat leaving his lips. The hand still gripping your shoulder tightens, and he goes to remove his cock from your mouth, but you stop him with a hand at the back of his thigh.

Choso’s gaze seems to glimmer with an odd mixture of panic and lust, his concern battling with his desire to thrust deeper.

“C-careful,” he stutters. He groans your name as his hips twitch, pushing a little deeper despite himself. “I don’t want…” Another groan as he inches deeper, the fat tip brushing against your tonsils. “…to hurt you.”

Thought so, you think.

You fix Choso with as stern a stare as you can with cock slowly lodging its way further into your mouth. You wind your hand back behind your back, lacing your fingers together before you lean forward, taking Choso’s cock as deep as you possibly can—which still only manages to be a little more than halfway.

As if to punctuate your point that you’re okay, that you want this, that you want Choso to take everything he wanted without reservation—you moan around his cock. Loudly.

Choso’s knees almost buckle as the vibrations shoot up his cock, a pitchy keen leaving his lips. His hand flies from your shoulder to the back of your head, though you’re unsure if he wants to push you deeper or pull you off altogether.

He looks back down at you once more, the tinges of concern and anxiety slowly melting down against the heat of his own lust and your satisfaction. You push your tongue up against the underside of his cock, and that seems enough to make him cast aside his worry.

With an initial, hesitant thrust of his hips, he pushes his hips forward, a soft moan leaving his lips as his cock sinks a little deeper into the hot, wet heat of your mouth. His movements are tentative, to begin with, but he slowly starts to pick up a steady rhythm, the tip beginning to bump against the back of your throat.

“…so good,” he pants. “You’re s-so good. P-Perfect.” Though pleasure smears his feature, his eyes never leave you, watching avidly as his cock disappears between your plush lips. He’s not fully letting go; even as his mouth drops open, as he pants, as beads of sweat pool on his brow and his cursed mark begins to shift. You try to take him a little deeper, but he pulls his hips back on the next thrust instinctively, keeping his previous depth. “N-no, please, God, please… just like this—please.”

You get it. Although you’d love nothing more than to have Choso hammer the back of your throat, he simply can’t let go enough just yet to enjoy it. Not at your expense. Never at your expense.

So you let him thrust as deep as he desires, and push him no further. You meet his every thrust with a bob of your head, slick lips sliding across his heated flesh. His groans grow louder with every push, but even as his thighs start to quiver and the grip on your shoulder grows tighter, he never pushes any deeper, or picks up speed.

Pre-cum leaks fluidly onto your tongue, your saliva collects at the corner of your mouth. The slick sounds of your mouth fill the quiet space of your bedroom, overshadowed by Choso’s moans and the slight creak of the floorboard underneath him.

By the pulse of his cock and the way Choso’s groans grow raspier, his thrusts a little less coordinated, you presume he’s getting particularly close. His thrusts grow only a touch quicker, the fat tip rubbing against the back of your tongue almost insistently. The short ‘I’m close’ that rushes out of his throat only confirms it.

You moan around his cock again, and Choso splutters.

“Yes, y-yes,” he rasps, his hand moving from your shoulder to the back of your head. “Again. Do that… again.” You do, louder this time, just for his benefit, and his cock bumps against the back of your thrust with the almost erratic buck of his hips. “Ah!”

He allows himself that little extra inch of warmth in your mouth, even as your eyes begin to glisten, as drool dribbles out the corner of your lips and down your chin. He locks eyes with you, his mouth falling open. ‘Perfect’, ‘beautiful’, ‘so good’ flows out of his lips like whispered mantras, and you can’t be sure whether he’s talking about you or the feelings he’s experiencing right now. Probably both.

Choso’s fingertips sink into your scalp, his moans and groans bubbling down into little more than heated pants and huffs, a soft, needy whistle tinging every one. His own eyes shine, small tears of overwhelming pleasure beginning to pool at the corners. He looks desperate, torn—strands of his hair clinging to his face.

He’s right on the edge, you know it—and yet he isn’t falling over. Or rather, he’s unable to.

“Touch me, touch me,” he pleads, and your hands fly from behind your back as if Choso was pulling a marionette’s strings.

Your one hand curls around his shaft as he quickly moves his hand away, and with a motion oh-so-familiar to you, you pump him tightly, rhythmically—in perfect tandem with the bob of your head. Your other hand moves to cradle his balls, tight and hot in your palm.

And just like that, control was so willingly thrown back to you.

With a harsh groan of relief, both of Choso’s hands cup the back of your head. He tries to let you dictate the pace, the rhythm, but like always when he’s this close to climax, he’s unable to help the way his hips buck and twitch.

Praises, ‘thank you’ and groans spill past his lips like a torrent. He’s too far gone to even release you’ve forced you way deeper down his cock, the tip lodging its way into the back of your throat. He writhes above you, trembling, fidgeting as his release quickly comes crashing toward him.

With one particularly deep bob of your throat and well-timed curl of your wrist, Choso tenses up. You feel his balls tighten in your palm. A choked sound hitches in his throat and stays there as he holds his breath.

The first syllable of ‘coming’ is all the warning you get before he’s filling your mouth, choked little grunts and something close to whimpers filling the heated air. The salty tang explodes across your taste buds as spurt after spurt falls against your tongue. His hips thrust a little now and then as you continue to move your hand, milking him for every drop.

You swallow everything without hesitation, but the bob of your throat is lost to Choso as he slips his cock from the heaven of your lips.

He falls to his knees a second later, breathing erratically—practically fighting for each breath. His arms wind around your waist as he curls himself in on you, his forehead brushing against your nape. He holds you close, still trembling.

Winding your arms around him in turn, you run your hands up and down his clammy shoulder blades, feeling every shudder and twitch. Something wet falls against your back, and when he finally calms down and pulls back slightly, you see it was tears.

You have no time to ask if he’s alright before his lips are pressed against yours with a gentle hunger; something like appreciation, adoration and love pouring against your mouth. His tongue pushes softly between your lips, his breath hitching as he tastes himself on your tongue. With a wet smack, he pulls back before resting his forehead against yours.

“Was… was that what you wanted?” He murmurs, something close to concern in his voice as his eyes flick between yours.

A soft laugh bubbles up at the back of your throat. Your smile widens with adoration as you cup his cheeks. It takes a second, but a small smile begins to bloom on his own lips in response. He presses his forehead a little firmer against yours, like a cat.

“It was everything,” you reply, your voice a little scratchy. Your throat was sore, lips dry, knees aching against the floorboards that had warmed against your skin; but you were truthful. It was everything. Choso was everything.

Hearing the scratch in your voice, concern washes over Choso’s features once more. His lips part as he goes to say something, but seems to think better of it for a moment.

“Do you… would you like to continue?”

Your brows rise, and you can’t help but glance down at his cock, softening between his thighs, your saliva and his own cum still glistening against his flushed skin.

“Can you eve-“

“I want to taste you,” he breathes out, his voice still holding the same husky timbre as before. “I’m… still in control, yes?”

Your eyebrows rise further, your hands moving from his cheeks to his shoulders—only for Choso to grab your wrists again, moving them back up to his cheeks with an almost assertive grip.

“Yeah,” you murmur after a moment, a lopsided smile on your lips. “You’re still in control.”

His hands skate down the curve of your waist, down to your hips and then to your thighs. He allows himself a greedy squeeze of your flesh.

“Lie back, spread your legs,” he whispers. “Let me see you—all of you.”

His voice is hot, wanting—and for the first time this evening, you feel the real command in his voice.

masterlist.

#choso x reader #choso smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #choso kamo #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you

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