#I've been on a goddamn roll lately | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

teatreeoilll · 10 months ago

Text

𝗡𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝗿𝗹𝘆 𝗗𝗶𝘀𝗽𝘂𝘁𝗲 (𝗛𝗶𝗴𝘂𝗿𝘂𝗺𝗮 𝗛𝗶𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶 𝗫 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿)

˚• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . •

w/c - 2.6k content - MDNI! 18 +, fem!reader, porn with plot, asking a man in a suit to not take it off when he fucks you, not proofread because it's so late rn, hope I'll get to it tomorrow

• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° .•

When Higuruma Hiromi finished climbing up the stairs, moving slowly and sighing until he finally reached his apartment, the walls around the floor were already rhythmically humming.

"Fucking hell," It took every single ounce of strength in his body to turn away from his own door and turn to knock on the neighbors'.

Goddamn it, not him again, you think as you unlock the door, wincing at the passing thought of ever finding the grumpy, tired man waiting outside of your apartment in any way attractive.

"Yes?" You utter, cross-armed with a fake smile glazing your lips.

He stares into the space behind you for a moment before meeting your eyes, "I'm sorry to bother you," you should be sorry for bothering me, "I know we've had this discussion before," about a million goddamn times, "but if you wouldn't mind," before I go insane, "turning down the music?"

"Listen," you drawl, mimicking his calm tone through gritted teeth, "we talked this through already. It's still early, and it's not against the law to listen to music at a reasonable volume in my own apartment."

Higuruma's eye twitched at the words, still trying to retain a neutral expression. The law? You're bringing up the law? Now, Higuruma Hiromi didn't consider himself a proud man, but the next words to come out of his mouth made his self-respect plummet, "I'm sorry, it's just that ever since my wife died, I've been having trouble sleeping."

You blink slowly, your arms dropping to the sides of your body, "O-oh," you babbled, "I'm so sorry, I didn't - I - " the heat rises to your cheeks, "I'm so sorry, uh, I didn't catch your name - "

"Higuruma Hiromi," he adds.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Hiromi; I'll turn it down."

That evening, Hiromi sinks on the sofa like he's carried by angel's wings, relishing in the serene, tranquil, long-awaited silence. But something itches at the back of his mind; he spent too many days in court to know that a lie will always come back to bite.

"Shit," you hiss as your groceries hitting the building's floor, apples rolling on the tiles beneath you. "Stupid apples," you grumble as you stoop down, desperately trying to stuff them into your overflowing bag.

"Do you need help?" A voice behind you asks.

"It's fine," you breathe, catching another rolling apple in your hand, "I'm just here, uh, cussing at the fruit."

"I can see that," and Hiromi crouches down to help you, the fabric of his suit rustling as his pale fingers help you pick up the things off the floor.

You unlock your door, pushing it in with your shoulder, and your neighbor follows suit into your apartment.

"Where do I - " Hiromi stands at the entrance, his arms packed with your shopping.

"Oh - uh, " you walk to the kitchen counter, "right here is fine," you fix your gaze on the man unloading your shopping, a strand of hair falling on his forehead as he does. "Thank you."

After he finished, his eyes turn to find yours, and you're not quite sure why you're staring or at what, with your gaze rolling from his suit to his dark eyes, but you manage to conclude that, strangely enough, it's not unnatural to see him standing in your kitchen.

A long moment of silence graces the room before he finally utters, "It's nothing."

You thank him three more times while he exits your apartment, and he brushes off each one. It's only after he leaves that you notice the rapid pace of your heart, and you walk to the mirror to look at your face, standing before it for a moment, wondering how long it has been since you've turned this deep shade of crimson.

Oh god, you're so nice.

"I've brought them up for you, I hope you don't mind," you smile at your neighbor, bent over in your too-tight lounge shorts to put a stack of letters near his door, "they just seemed to be piling up."

"You really didn't have to," He mutters, crouching to meet you at the bottom of his door, gathering the letters in his hands.

But you just kept the smile on your face, so soft and considerate the pangs of guilt overturned his stomach. "Oh, and - uh," is my face growing red? "I - I baked some cookies, I mean," you falter, "I mean, I baked too many cookies. Would you like some?"

Maybe he is attractive, your neighbor, with his soft and tired dark eyes; or maybe it's the depth of sorrow you thought resided in them that made the need to help him grow.

It would be rude to decline, wouldn't it? "S-sure," he says - But it's immoral to agree, and the thought fades at the scent of fresh baked goods from your apartment already filling the hallway.

You don't mean to be rude when you walk through his door, setting a small plate of glazed lemon cookies on his old coffee table, your gaze darting to the pile of records on the shelf in the corner, "So, you do like music," you chuckle, eyes fluttering over the names on the covers.

"I do," he admits, the soft lemon cookie melting on his tongue, "But if Sinatra came here and sang while I'm trying to sleep, I don't think I'd like him that much anymore."

You catch his gaze, and your lips twitch for a moment before you burst into laughter. God, he stares at you, thinking you're an almost ethereal sight as you browse his records, perched on his old leather couch, laughing at something he said, with your smile scrunching the corners of your eyes so gracefully he thinks he just might -

"Love?" you ask.

"Yes?"

And you laugh again, "No - I meant, Love." You point at the record sitting on the top of the shelf, "Didn't take you for one to listen to them."

He coughs, a red blush dusting his pale cheeks, "It's a good album."

"It is, I don't think I've ever heard it on vinyl," you say, the palms of your hands grazing your thighs as you lift yourself up from the sofa, "Well, I think I better be off - "

"Would you like to?" He asks.

"Sure."

As you sit there, listening to the soft flamenco-style guitar flowing from the record player, it takes everything from Hiromi to calm the urge to touch you or at least hold your hand, fuck, he'd settle for a brush of your fingers against his own. Tackling these urges, blatantly ignoring the music, his mind replays the same old words he'd read countless times, a thing he usually does when he's trying to take his mind off something; - One sultry evening early in July a young man emerged from the small furnished lodging he occupied in a large five-storied house on Pereoulok S - , and turned slowly, with an air of indecision, towards the K - bridge.* *a/n: the opening line of Crime and Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky

The faint smile you give him as you meet him at the entrance to the building makes the blood rush to his ears.

"Good evening," you say, and Hiromi thinks it really is much better now.

"Good evening," he answers, pointing at the exit, "I'm out to the convenience, do you need anything?"

You shake your head, "Thank you," you say before continuing the path up the stairs.

It's a frantic knock on the door that startles you once you're out of the shower, and you rush to open it, towel still wrapped around your damp hair.

"Yes?" Your gaze meets a young, short-haired woman, a stack of papers barely fitting in the grip of her hands.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she apologizes, "I must have gotten the doors mixed up, does Higuruma Hiromi live on this floor?"

You nod, pointing a finger to the door next to yours, "But I just saw him leaving."

"Oh, crap -," the woman mutters, "I'm terribly sorry to ask this, but these are for the trial tomorrow," she lifts the papers up a bit, "would you mind if I leave them with you?"

"Trial?" You inquire, already holding your hands out to take the papers.

"Yes, a boy arrested on suspicion of murder and robbery," she sighs, "he won't let it go."

You hold the stack of papers, "Hiromi's a lawyer?"

The woman chuckles, "Oh, ah - yes."

"He works so hard," you think aloud, "even after what happened to his wife."

The woman's brows furrow, "Wife? Oh god, no, Mr. Higuruma's not married."

You tilt your head, your eyes narrowing at her words, "Sorry - uhm, has he ever been married?"

She shakes her head, "Well, I'll just leave these with you; I'll call him so he'll pick them up once he returns," she parts with a curt bow.

Loud. Insufferably, overwhelmingly, dreadfully, loud. The music crashes onto the walls, making them buzz so furiously you would have missed the knock on the door if only you weren't already waiting for it.

"Yes?" you scoff at the puzzled lawyer standing at your doorstep.

Hiromi's eyebrows knit together, the music reverberating through the staircase as he asked, "It's a bit loud, don't you think?"

You step away for a moment to find the stack of papers, returning to the doorstep to shove it in his arms, "Why? Will it piss off your imaginary wife?"

Oh, he thinks, and the door slams in his face.

He goes into his apartment and places the papers on the coffee table. He sits down to read them, only to find his eyes skimming over the letters, not quite making any sense of what he's reading with the music playing through the wall and his conscience raging in his mind.

Another knock on the door, and you open it with a huff, "Forgot something?"

Hiromi stands with his arms dangling by the sides of his body, a soft look in his eyes as he mutters, "I'm sorry."

He's just a neighbor, right? A nice one, at that, with a handsome face and kind eyes. Why am I so angry? Why's the music blaring with the intent of ruining his evening? Why's he standing so close -

It's an eternity in your mind, but only a few seconds pass while you think, unconsciously staring directly at his lips. He catches that, of course, he wouldn't get anywhere in court if he wasn't mindful of nuance.

The first thing you feel is his hand grasping at the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly close to him. Next, the soft brush of his lips against yours as he breathes, "Is this alright?"

You don't answer; instead, you grasp at his arms through the fabric of his suit, capturing his lips as a fog settles in your mind, a soft hum running from your mouth to his.

His arms wander on your body while you relish in the softness of his lips; they skim across your lower back to come down and hold a firm grip on your ass when his tongue finally darts into your mouth. "Fuck," he pants, pushing you up against the wall, and you only momentarily remember you should probably close the damn door.

"Hm?" he puzzles when you break away from the kiss, watching you gesture towards the door, "I guess you can be considerate towards your neighbors," and he pushes the door, his tongue returning to your mouth before he even hears the closing thud.

It doesn't take long for him to slide his hand from your ass into your pants, long fingers gliding on your lower stomach, dragging the fabric of your underwear to the side as he rubs circles over your clit. "Don't be so quiet," he hums against your lips when he sees you biting back your moans, "Trust me, no one can hear you through this noise."

"Fuck, Hiro - " you gasp at the feeling of his fingers entering your cunt, one look at his glazed-over eyes and you try to desperately press your lips to his again, but he finds the crook of your neck instead, sucking on the skin there, leaving small bruises while his fingers glide in and out of your soaked cunt.

Each graze of his teeth against your neck makes you clench against his fingers, and he feels himself growing unbearably hard at the feeling, the slight friction of his cock rutting against the fabric of his trousers barely enough to give him some relief.

"Shit, sucking my fingers in like that - " he murmurs against your neck, the pads of his fingers caressing the spot that made you whimper, "You close?" And you feel the knot in your stomach come undone at his words, wetness gushing over his fingers as your body quivers.

You let out a choked gasp when he picks you up from the floor, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Your clothes are discarded by the time you reach the couch, and you're trapped under him, back pressed against the sofa while the fabric of his suit rubs against your naked body.

The jacket of his suit falls to the floor, and his hand reaches to undo his tie, "N-no," you breathe, "Leave it on," you say as your hand works on the zipper of his trousers, pulling them down together with his underwear just low enough for his cock to spring out.

"Dirty," he chuckles against your lips, pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. You moan at the feeling, pushing your hips down to take in the tip, "I always liked lawyers," you push a hand up to grip his hair, tugging at the soft strands.

"Did you now?" His muscles tighten as he pushes his cock further into you, rolling his hips to finally bottom out inside you.

"Mhmm," you moan into his mouth, feeling your pussy push against his thrusts, drunk on the soft smell of his cologne lingering in the air.

"Hiro - " you can barely breathe out his name with the feeling of his cock working you open, your hand leaving his hair to grip at his tie dangling from his neck, holding it tightly in your fist.

"God," he groans, chasing his climax with deeper thrusts, "you really do like lawyers," he huffs as your pussy clenches against him, the heat spreading under his skin.

He pulls out, and you whimper at the absence of his cock as he flips you, your head pressed flat against the couch, your ass perked up against his hips. His thrusts feel unbelievably deeper from that angle, his hand reaching to grip mercilessly at your hair to pull your head up.

"Ah - Fuck -," you babble, "Hiro - I - ," your reach a hand to rub your clit, his thrusts a perfect pace to the coiling tension in your stomach, and he anchors his hand on the fat of your ass, fingers digging deeper as he bites back his moans, coming closer to his own release.

"I - Ah -, " and you don't even finish your moan as your back arches, heat coursing through your body as you come, feeling as if you'd collapse if not for his hand holding you up by your hair. His hips stutter, a silent 'fuck' escaping his lips as you feel his seed painting your walls, his thrusts finally slowing down.

He pulls out, releasing the grip on your hair, and you turn a flushed gaze towards him, a dazed smile glazing your lips. He adjusts himself back in his trousers, his eyes falling on the speakers on your table, still ruthlessly blasting music.

"Is this the..?" He motions towards the speakers, and you nod.

He gets up, his hand twisting the volume knob until the white mark on it touches zero. The room grows silent.

Finally, he thinks.

1K notes · View notes

pin-k-ink · 6 months ago

Text

pent up // hoshina soshiro

tw ⇢ semi public sex, biting, marking, nipple play, dirty talk, established relationship, unprotected sex, begging, fingering, mention of male masturbation

wc ⇢ 1.2k

a/n: not satisfied with this one either…and i keep forgetting that this guy has a kansai dialect

The lab was cloaked in near total darkness, save for the bluish glow of the monitors humming in standby mode. You suppressed a yawn as you entered the data from today's latest round of kaiju cell analyses, the rhythmic clacking of keys filling the stillness.

At least these late night sessions afforded you some peace and privacy to focus without distractions. With the spike in kaiju activity lately, you'd been logging far too many long hours bent over these microscopes and petri dishes--

"Well, well...what do we have here?"

You jolted ramrod straight at the teasing baritone that seemed to resonate directly against the back of your neck. Before you could whirl around, a pair of corded, muscular arms snaked around your midsection from behind, anchoring you against a powerful, chiseled chest as hot lips ghosted over the racing pulse at your throat.

"Working late again without me, baby?" Soshiro growled in a voice dripping with playful accusation. "You know how I hate being left out like this..."

Your breath hitched at the delicious vibrations thrumming against your nape with each rasping word. He plastered himself fully along your backside - every rigid, defined plane molding against your softer curves so deliciously you nearly whimpered. The rigid outline of his rapidly swelling cock nudged insistently against your ass, leaving no doubt as to his state of riled desire.

"S-Soshiro!" you exhaled shakily. "I thought you were still out in the field--"

"Mmmm, got done sooner than expected," he rumbled in smug contentment, nuzzling deeper into your hairline to pepper kisses there. "Lucky me too, otherwise I might've missed the chance to catch my gorgeous girlfriend working late all alone...again..."

He punctuated the accusation by rolling his hips forward in a slithery, teasing grind that sent liquid fire pooling between your thighs instantly. You gasped at the blatant lust riding his every motion, hands flying up to grip his corded forearms reflexively as need swamped through your veins.

"Fuck, I've been so goddamn worked up without you around," Soshiro groaned against the slick skin beneath your jaw, fangs grazing there in stinging little nips. "Jerking off twice a day just thinking about burying myself in this perfect body until you're a goddamn mess..."

He reached up to shove your sweater and shirt aside with impatient motions, dragging the soft cup of your bra down to bare one breast to the open air. You shuddered violently as cool oxygen seared your inflamed skin - nipple tightening into a rigid point that Soshiro wasted no time lavishing with rough swipes of his tongue.

"Nngh, 'Shiro! We c-can't..." you tried in a broken whimper, even as your spine arched wantonly into the scorching heat of his mouth. "Not here, someone could--"

"So what?" he growled against your saliva-slick flesh, sucking a lurid mark into the tender swell hungrily. "Let them finally see how crazy you make me after being denied for weeks...hear how pretty you sound when I fuck you like my life depends on it..."

His hand found the waistband of your slacks in the same breath, dipping past the lacy barrier of your panties to swipe his knuckles over your dripping entrance with devastating bluntness. An inarticulate noise punched itself from your throat in stunned rapture at the glide of his calloused fingers seeking out your swollen clit.

"God, you're so fucking soaked already," Soshiro snarled in husky approval. "Told you how much I've been thinking about devouring this perfect little pussy of yours, didn't I?"

You cried out shamelessly, nails scoring down his forearms as he speared two thick digits past your fluttering folds to the last knuckle. His thumb found your aching clit, thrumming tight little circles that shattered your vision in white nova bursts.

"So good for me, opening up so beautifully," he praised roughly against the corner of your slack mouth, teeth scoring your earlobe in a stinging burn. "Like your greedy little cunt was made to milk me dry again and again..."

Distantly, you registered the sounds of him shucking his pants off behind you with frantic motions, the heavy line of fat cock finally springing free. You rolled your hips in mindless desperation, chasing the delicious friction of his thrusting fingers urgently.

"Yes, yesss, Soshiro!" you babbled around a helpless stream of sobs and moans. "Please, I need...need you to..."

"Shhh, baby...I've got you," he growled with dark reassurance in your ear, swollen cockhead finding your entrance with precision guidance.

You keened at the thick stretch and glorious impalement as he hilted himself to the root in one smooth, fluid roll of his hips. Behind you, Soshiro released a ragged sound of bliss, hot breath fanning over your nape as he savored the velvet heat enveloping his aching cock at last.

"Fuuuuck...baby, you feel so goddamn tight, squeezing me so fucking perfectly..."

You could only whimper and rut back against his bulk needfully in response - utterly overwhelmed by the sheer size and weight of him buried so profoundly. The slick noises of his withdrawal teased obscene symphonies in the quiet lab, only for his girthy thrust home to pummel the breath from your lungs anew in rapture.

Over and over, he ground into your convulsing walls at a ruthless, relentless cadence - every snap of his lean hips punctuated by rough groans and fevered praises filtering against your sweat-slick skin. The unyielding suction of his chest to your back anchored you in sublime torment, his hands possessively palming and groping every lush curve as he staked his dominion.

"Just like that, sweetheart," Soshiro growled in your ear as his pounding rhythm punched guttural noises from the depths of your being. "Hold those gorgeous tits for me while I ruin that tight cunt, fuck...taking me so fucking deep, squeezing so tight..."

His sharp canines found the fevered juncture of your neck and shoulder in an implacable bite, the fiery sting only amplifying the maddening friction splitting you apart from root to core. In the same breath, he latched one calloused hand around your throat - not squeezing, just a heavy grounding vice as he pistoned deeper.

You bucked back onto him, relishing the addictive drag of his veiny cock along your rippling walls. Every gasping moan and keen shattered against the sterile air surrounding you both, as if to defy the pristine silence entirely in favor of hedonistic ruin at last.

Soshiro railed into you with gradually increasing savagery, fingers bruising at your hip and throat as his climax mounted insurmountably. Something molten and feverish kindled to rapturous life behind your fluttering lids. Finally...

"Mine..." he snarled through gritted teeth, teeth scoring your nape and back arching as release crested. "Say it, [Y/N]...you're fucking mine, only ever fucking mine..."

"Yours!" you howled unintelligibly, every nerve ending splintering into infinite fragments of ecstasy at his brutal claiming. "Always yours, Soshiro, oh fuck...!"

Your shared shouts splintered to hoarse shrieks of blissful rapture as his shaft pounded home in one final, bestial thrust. Thick, creamy cum flooded your convulsing pussy torridly as Soshiro threw back his head and roared your name - muscles corded in stark relief while his climax milked out in pulse after pulse of abandon.

Your juices gushed freely around his iron length, spasming through soaring peaks and crashing falls of blinding intensity until exhaustion finally bled into a twilight half-consciousness. Dimly, you felt his slick, softening cock withdrawing, only to be gathered up and cradled in strong arms as you drifted on the ebbing tide of aftershocks.

#kaijuu no. 8 x reader smut #kaijuu no. 8 smut #kaijuu no. 8 x reader #kaijuu no. 8 #kaijuu 8 #kaijuu 8 gou #kaiju no. 8 #hoshina soshiro smut #hoshina smut #hoshina x reader smut #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina #hoshina x reader #soshiro x reader smut #soshiro smut #soshiro x reader

904 notes · View notes

mrsshabana · 5 months ago

Note

Modern/after all odds Gyutaro definitely did it on the motorcycle despite the risk in being a secluded alleyway or smth since someone was needy and impatient. Gyutaro would have it on or even rev it up sitting backwards while having y/n ride him. The hypersexual thoughts have lead me to a wild imagination once again 😞 Also can I be the 🍰 anon if its not already claimed? ^^

𝐀𝐀𝐎 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ⋆ 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐲𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, 18+ MDNI, Against All Odds au, public sex, vaginal sex, creampie (if you aren't familiar with my Against All Odds fic, it's an au where demons live amongst humans in a modern au. And all of the kny demons go to university with reader.) ꒦꒷‧₊ Note I decided to write about AAO Gyutaro since I really miss writing that au! And of course, you can be the 🍰 anon if you'd like. Sorry for answering this so late btw. I've been working on other things lately but I was in the mood to write something quick today so I hope you all enjoy it. ♡

"That fucking student council meeting took so long, what the hell were you guys talking about anyways?" Gyutaro growls as he parks his bike behind the science building.

"Douma couldn't decide what color banners we needed for the festival this weekend," you giggle, watching your boyfriend's face contort in annoyance.

"Idiot," he rolls his eyes and turns off his bike, "Making me wait so damn long..."

You look around, confused as to why he is stopping behind the science building on campus. "Um Gyu, why are you stopping here?"

He flips around so he can face you and begins to unbutton his pants, "Cuz I'm gonna fuck you."

'WHAT!?" You yelp, and Gyutaro immediately covers your mouth with his hand.

"Shut it!" he snarls, "I've been so horny all goddamn day ever since you put on that stupid skirt this morning. And now since you made me wait so long, I don't have any other choice but to fuck you right here."

He smirks and pulls his pants down just enough for his cock to spring free, already incredibly hard. The large vein that runs down the side of it already popping out, that's how you know he's been hard for quite a while.

"B-Babe I-," you start but he cuts you off.

"Shh, it's ok. The sun's already gone down so no one will see us. I promise..."

He bites his lip and pulls you in for a kiss. His other hand goes under your skirt, slipping into your panties to feel you've already started to get wet. But how can you not when seeing him so hot and bothered for you?

Pleased by this, he groans and pulls you into his lap. Slowly bucking his hips, gliding his cock along your slick panties.

"Gyu..." you whimper, "maybe we should move off the bike. I wouldn't want it to fall over..."

"Typical human, always worrying," he smiles, showing off his sharp teeth, "It won't fall over, I promise. My feet are on the ground so I can balance it while you ride me."

"R-ride you?" your entire face goes red. Usually, your boyfriend is on top, taking control and plunging into you aggressively is his favorite way to have sex. So it isn't often that he asks you to be on top, but you can't deny that you enjoy doing it. And he does too, it's just that most days he can't stop himself from fucking you silly. But today he doesn't have much choice.

"C'mon baby, you can handle it right?" He smirks mischievously as if challenging you.

"Of course I can!"

"I dunno... maybe you're too weak to take it. I mean you are just a pathetic human after all," he teases.

You furrow your brows, determined to prove him wrong. So you lift your hips, move your panties to the side, and gently lower yourself onto him.

"F-fuck," a breathy moan leaves his lips as he sinks into you and bottoms out.

"That shut you up, huh?" you tease back as you begin riding him.

He can't deny that you took his breath away, he didn't expect you to take control like you did. His nails dig into your thighs as you pick up the pace. Moaning loudly as you bounce on his lap, squelching sounds filling the air as his thick shaft splits you apart.

"C-C'mon babe ah, if you k-keep movin' like that I'm gonna cum too soon," he clenches his teeth and tries to hold back his moans.

"I don't want us to get caught," you gasp, "Ngh- you do want to cum in me don't you?"

"C-course I do," a needy moan escapes him. He moves his hands to your hips and begins to move you up and down, assisting you in your motion.

You lean forward until his cockhead slams into your sweet spot, "Ah- right there!" Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the mess between your legs spreads all over your thighs.

Your legs are beginning to feel sore but you're too determined to chase your high to even care. Moving faster and faster despite the pain and your thighs trembling.

Usually, your boyfriend would take over at this point but he's too high on cloud nine to pay attention to anything but the way your slick walls wrap around him and squeeze him so tightly. Making it impossible for him to hold back any longer.

And with a strained groan, his nails dig into your skin, his cock twitches inside of you, and he leans back - accidentally revving his bike. But he's too busy filling you with his seed to even care.

Wanting to make sure he got his cum as deep as possible he tightly grabs your hips and thrusts up into you. Creating an absolute mess. A combination of his cum and your slick splattering all over your skirt and the seat of his bike.

You were already getting so close, but now the breeding instinct of your demon boyfriend brings you over the edge. Your walls tightening around him as your desperate moans fill the air.

Gyutaro smirks, pleased with himself as you slump over onto him. Feeling your body shake uncontrollably, he feels satisfied.

"That's it baby," he whispers as he gently kisses the side of your face, "You did so good for me."

"We should do this again sometime..." you whimper and nuzzle against him.

He smirks, "Hell yeah, but let's get you home and cleaned up for now."

He ignores the mess on his bike and pulls his pants up. Then he turns, positions himself properly, and shifts his bike back into drive.

"You good back there?" he shouts, making sure you're holding on tightly.

"Mm hm," you nod, wrapping your arms around him and leaning your head on his back.

"Y'know, maybe we could do this every week after your student council meetings," he snickers as he revs the engine.

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #aao #gyutaro smut #gyuutarou #gyuutarou x reader #demon slayer smut #kny smut #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader

464 notes · View notes

barcaatthemoon · 7 months ago

Text

clash || katie mccabe x reader ||

katie gets jealous of leah's constant flirting with you.

minors dni, 18+, smut warning.

"good morning gorgeous," leah greeted as you walked into the locker room. she shot you a little smirk at the way your cheeks turned pink at the compliment. since your move from chicago to london, leah had been your best friend. briefly, she had even been your girlfriend, but the two of you had decided on sticking to being friends after your little relationship trial was over.

"morning charming," you flirted back. leah wrapped her arm around your shoulders as she led you towards your cubby. the two of you had always been right next to each other. it was a staple of the locker room, you and leah just being near each other, bantering and flirting amongst yourselves.

nothing would ever come of it again. especially not while you had katie and leah had lia. the two of you were just good friends, and while lia understood that, katie definitely did not. it didn't matter how many times you reminded your girlfriend that leah as just your friend, katie would get upset every single week it seemed.

you had pulled back on the flirty banter, but this week was a bit of a slip up. katie had been behaving herself for nearly a month, not getting worked up nearly as easily. you and leah had taken that as a green light to go back to the way that things were. that proved to be a mistake because the moment that katie had seen leah kiss your cheek during practice, it was like a switch had flipped.

leah had noticed katie's change in behavior first. it was nothing major, just an eyeroll as some of the girls laughed at a joke that leah told. you were across the field getting a drink of water, so katie really had no reason to be acting so annoyed. if you had to take a guess, that was the moment whenever leah decided that she needed to up the flirting.

"here let me hold that for you, it looks heavy," leah said as she grabbed your hand. it was cheesy, but both leah and katie knew that those lines tended to actually work on you. much to leah's delight, you blushed deeply as leah took your hand. you tried to roll your eyes and play it off, but it was far too late.

for the rest of practice, leah was extremely flirtatious with you. at times, it felt a bit excessive, but you honestly loved the attention. that left katie to sit fuming by herself up until lunch. a few of the girls were going out to get some food, and you had assumed that katie was one of them until you felt her pull you away as you made your way towards the bathrooms.

"i'm going to fucking wring her neck out," katie growled. it didn't take you very long at all to figure out who katie was talking about. "that arrogant little blonde bitch. she had her fucking chance, but now that you're with me, she just has to put her goddamn fucking hands all over you. i'll fucking kill her next time she touches you!"

"katie, calm down." you gently placed your hand on her chest. usually, that did the trick to calm her down, but she pushed your hand off of her. "katie please don't start a fight. leah and i, we're just messing about. it's nothing to be upset about, i promise."

"if it's just you messin' about with each other, then why do you blush like that?" katie questioned. you didn't have an answer to that. any sort of compliment or attention had you turning red in the cheeks. katie knew that, or at least you thought that she did.

"katie that's not fair, you know that anybody could tell me i look nice and i'd be red as an apple," you told her. katie's jaw clenched as she moved a bit closer to you. her thigh slotted in between yours. you could feel it there, wondering if she had something planned.

"it isn't the same when leah compliments you. i've noticed, trust me. it's not even the same when i do it. i could sit here all night telling you how fucking gorgeous you are, but you wouldn't care. no, not unless it's leah calling you her gorgeous girl. i bet you wish it was her in here with you, don't you?"

"no, i don't want anybody except for you right now," you promised her. that seemed to please katie, who rewarded you with a bit of friction. it was quick, but enough to pull a small moan from you.

"do that again for me," katie ordered. she moved her leg again, this time pressing a bit harder as she did. you didn't want to stand there moaning, just barely hidden around the corner of a door from the hallway. you wanted to do this somewhere private, like your place or katie's, but katie had other intentions.

you let the tiniest of moans slip again before you clamped your hand over your mouth. katie tutted at that as she moved your hands away, warning you to stay how she had you. katie seemed intent on seeing how far you would let things go, when you'd stop her. unbeknownst to her that you were quickly reaching the point of no return.

"katie, don't tease me," you warned her. if she were to leave you high and dry, there would be hell to pay after training. katie knew that your wrath was generally worse than anything she could think of, especially when she'd turn herself on in the process of teasing you. katie loved watching you cum, often getting off of it to the point of nearly cumming when she ate you out. "it'll start a whole new fight."

"no teasing, i know," katie said as she dropped her head to press a kiss to your neck. you could feel her fingers rubbing against your shorts, playing with the wetness that was gathered there. your hips bucked up to meet her fingers, grinding down as hard as you could against them.

"i want your mouth, show me why i shouldn't just go to leah right now," you said. it was mean to tease katie like that, but you didn't care. she could get mad about it after she ate you out. you'd make it up to her at home, where she had a plethora of toys to use in order to take her frustration out on you.

"excuse me?" katie paused completely, but she didn't withdraw her fingers.

"you. heard. me. i. want. your. mouth." you punctuated each word with a harsh grind against her fingers. katie looked absolutely gobsmacked for a moment, but she still did exactly what you told her to do. katie spread your legs even wider once she had your shorts and underwear off. you grabbed onto katie's ponytail as you placed one of your legs over her shoulder. "you look so fucking hot on your knees for me."

"don't get on a power trip," katie warned. the two of you had found a pretty good balance, and you were toeing the line of breaking it. still, katie grabbed onto your hips and pulled you forward. she kept you securely pressed against her face as her tongue probed around teasingly.

"katie please," you whined. she chuckled at how quickly you had lost all of your fight. all it took was getting a fraction of what you wanted before you were putty in her hands. you weren't even grinding yourself against katie's face anymore, instead just making absolutely pathetic sounds as she lazily dragged her tongue around your cunt.

katie hummed and pulled you closer as your hips started to rut a little. you were close, and katie could tell from the way your moans started to get higher in pitch. she couldn't move to silence you, so your cries rang out in the empty room she had pulled you into. silently, she prayed that nobody was in the hallway because they definitely would have heard you crying out her name as you begged for your release. as much of a showoff as katie liked to be, she didn't want anybody else to hear the way you sounded whenever you came. that was for her and her alone.

"shh, shh. hey, it's okay, i've got you," katie cooed as she held you up. it was a bit of a hassle getting you redressed. lunch was just about over, and katie knew she had to move quickly to get you something to eat. katie left you outside of the cafeteria as she grabbed a couple of plates, opting to eat in the hallway with you.

"are we good now?" you asked as katie passed you a bottle of powerade. she had to open yours, your hands still shaking from before.

"hmm, i don't know. that was pretty cheeky talking about leah like that while i'm trying to fuck you," katie answered. it was honest, which you were grateful for. katie didn't look that upset, but you also knew that she didn't like to be that way around you.

"well, i am sorry about it. i really do only love you like this. i'd never let anybody else even try touching me like that in public." katie didn't doubt your words. there was a conversation looming between the two of you, one that katie was dreading just as much as you were.

"i'll start keeping my hands to myself, promise." katie held up two fingers, most likely the two that had nearly been inside of you just moments before. one look at the cheeky grin on katie's face confirmed this for you.

"yeah, you'd better mccabe."

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso smut #katie mccabe smut #katie mccabe imagine #katie mccabe x reader #minors dni #minors do not interact

633 notes · View notes

byechristopher · 1 year ago

Note

can you make a chris make up sex??? please

Make it up to me.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO SMUT, FLUFF.

Author's note: love me some good make-up sex – sorry I took so long to respond! Thank you for the request, dear. Hope you like this. Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: smut smut smut. Minors dni! Didn't proof-read!

"I feel a little neglected lately." my voice is timid but I let a little sigh of relief leave my lips.

I am not used to speaking about my emotions loudly like this, expressing them so freely, let alone in front of Chris. He is my boyfriend but I've always had trouble doing that – it's something I've been trying to fix for a while now.

"Neglected?" he has a tone in his voice that I don't appreciate and I am already regretting my decision to speak my mind, "I don't have time to fucking rest, what are you talking about?" he scoffs and leans back, one of his hands still grab the steering wheel and he sighs, fluffing his hair up with his free hand.

"Just forget it." I roll my eyes, leaning back against the car seat as well, glancing out the window, "forget I even said anything."

"Don't play that card now." I can feel his eyes on me but I refuse look at him.

"I'm not playing any cards. Would you rather have me not telling you anything? Because you know damn well I can do that." I shrug, finally looking at him.

"No, I don't want that. But you're being irrational." his eyebrows are raised and so are his shoulders.

"And you're being rational?" I narrow my eyes, almost like challenging him, "I understand that you are busy but when I tell you I fucking feel neglected, I'm expecting.. I don't know.. maybe a little bit of affection?" I cross my arms, "or is that not possible? To ask that from my relationship?"

"Stop being like this. You just have to understand me! I just don't have time!" he tries to defend himself but every time, he just says something that pisses me off even more.

"Well, that's your fucking problem, Chris. Because I'm working a lot too, you know? But I always make time for you, no matter how exhausted I am. And that's what relationships are about! Making constant sacrifices for each other." I try to explain as much as possible, "and I do understand you, I've been patient for a long time but now it's your turn."

"Well I never fucking complained about you being busy!" he knows he's just saying irrarional bullshit now.

"You never had to! Because I've actually got my shit together. You never had the chance to feel neglected." I stare into his eyes, "oh and also, what I just did, was not complaining. It's called 'expressing my goddamn feelings', something that you're terrible at, even more than me."

And with that, I get out of the car, quickly taking out the keys so I can open our apartment door. He makes me so angry sometimes – he is the best boyfriend in the world, but sometimes, he just doesn't get it.

Hours pass by and we haven't said a single word to each other; I refuse to speak to him, until he understands that he has to make sacrifices too. I can't always just chase him around, taking a step back just to avoid conflict.

A knock on the door of our bedroom is what wakes me up from my own thoughts, "can I come in?"

"Yes, you can."

Chris opens the door and takes a careful glance of me – I am just laying on the bed, under the covers, I am only in my underwear and a t-shirt just to be comfortable. He sighs and lifts the covers so that he can lay beside me, cupping my cheek so gently, his touch is careful and timid.

"I needed some time to think about what you said. And I wanted to apologise." he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, "you're right. You're working a lot too, but you always make time for me and I am very grateful for that."

I don't say anything, I notice that he's still thinking, just waiting for him to continue.

"I don't want to make any excuses but I felt very overwhelmed lately because of work, and I didn't want to admit it. I haven't been able to sit down and actually try to manage my schedule but I promise to work on it immediately." he smiles apologetically.

"Baby, I know you didn't do it on purpose." I sigh, "but when I tell you how I'm feeling, I need you to try to understand before getting defensive."

"I know and you are right. It was the part of me that didn't want to admit that I'm actually so busy, so tired and so awful at trying to fit everything in my schedule. This is why I got defensive. Next time I will be better, though." he says and I nod, leaning into his touch, rubbing my cheek against his palm.

"I know you will. We all do mistakes. Thank you for taking your time to think about it." I grin and he wraps an arm around my waist – I waste no time, I immediately press my body against his.

"Of course, baby. I needed to be sure before I come and find you." he sighs and hugs me tightly, sneaking his leg in between mine. I smile and lean in to place a kiss on his lips.

He keeps talking but I am too focused on his lips, or the leg between my legs, or the hands that hold my waist. I listen to what he says but I can feel my arousal burning me. My thighs squeeze his leg and my lips rub themselves against his – I stick my tongue out to lick his bottom lip and that's when he takes the hint.

"What are you doing there, hm?" he hums, his fingers gripping my sides a little harder now.

"I think you need to make it up to me, no? For making me wait all this time while you were thinking." I murmur, my lips going from his lips to his cheek, to his chin and then finally his neck.

He groans and pulls his sweatpants down, not wanting to lose any time either. He places his leg between mine again and I press my clothed pussy against his thigh, making him feel my wetness as I start to rub myself against him.

"I'll make it up to you as many times as you want." he bites down his bottom lip as he slowly takes my shirt off. He's only wearing his boxers and I'm wearing my panties, we're still under the covers.

He grips my waist and I start to fully grind on him, rocking my hips, moving them back and forth on his thigh, "Chris. I want you." I whisper and he smiles.

"I can feel it." he whispers and leans in to take my earlobe in his mouth, sucking on it, moaning into my ear as he sneaks a finger between his thigh and my pussy, rubbing it while still putting pressure with his leg.

I almost whine at how much wetter he made me in just one second, and I travel my hand down his body to grab his clothed dick, taking it out to wrap my fingers around it, rubbing up and down his shaft.

He moans and I can feel his body shaking a little bit – he leans in and takes my nipple in his mouth, groaning around it and biting it gently. I gasp and tug on his hair. He grabs his own cock and brings it closer to my pussy, rubbing the tip of it against my panties, making it even wetter.

"Mmm, Chris.." moaning, I wrap my arms around him, trying to rub myself against his cock as much as possible.

With his fingers, he pushes my panties to the side and starts rubbing the tip of his wet cock against my clit, making sure to run it over my entrance, collecting my juices and then rubbing them all over my clit again.

"Please fuck me already, I am ready for you." I whine, I want to scream how much I want him right now.

He moans at my words and completely takes my panties off. He grabs my leg and hooks his arm under my knee, keep my leg lifted as he teases my pussy. He finally pushes inside of me and I lose it – I couldn't believe I could get any more wet, but apparently I can.

"Shit, baby.. you're so wet and warm." he moans, burying his face into my neck to press kisses all over my skin. His thrusts are gentle and slow as he fucks into me with love, while bruising my skin with kisses at the same time.

I moan and cup his cheeks, making him look at me before attacking his lips with passionate kisses. He grabs the leg that he's been lifting up again, making me wrap it around his waist as he rolls over to his back, making me get on top of him while still being inside of me.

"Fuck.. yes.. like this.." I whisper in his ear – I am completely laying on top of him, my breasts pressed against his chest, my legs on either side of him, my face buried in his neck and my hands grabbing his hair.

I can hear him moaning my name as he starts picking up the pace, fucking me a little harder this time – his hands are on my buttcheeks, squeezing them and spreading them as he pushes his cock in and out.

"Hell.. I don't think I can last any longer, baby girl.." he curses under his breath and moans into my ear softly, heavy breathing, placing a soft kiss on it.

"I'm gonna cum.." I warn, too, my pussy clenching around him as I feel him lifting my body up and down – I am at his mercy, completely.

"Mhmm, cum on my dick." he whispers and I let out a loud moan, tugging on his hair again. My body is trembling as he gives my butt a little smack and that's all it takes for me to cum with a loud moan of his name.

He groans and starts thrusting into me with a much faster pace, his fingers digging into the skin of my ass as he finally cums inside of me with a loud moan as well. I can feel him filling me up and my eyes roll to the back of my head.

We sit there in silence for quite a while, "I love make-up sex." I mumble against his shoulder and he laughs.

"I love you." he whispers, he hasn't moved an inch, still inside of me.

"Good, I love you too. Let me stay like this for a while."

1K notes · View notes

froggiewrites · 3 months ago

Note

hey, congrats on 100 followers! i love the way you write zoro and sanji and the final chapter of "picture you" has me craving some zoro x reader x sanji smut. could we maybe get a taste of that, please? 🙏

I've been thinking about writing a threesome for Sanji and Zoro since I finished Picture You, but I was nervous to try it, so thank you for giving me an excuse to push myself out of my comfort zone a bit 😊 I hope you enjoy it!

Two for One

Pairing: Zoro x Reader x Sanji

NSFW

Summary: Sanji and Zoro have been fighting even worse than usual lately for reasons beyond your comprehension, and everyone else is growing sick of it. Once you finally figure out why, you decide you three are all going to solve this together. Warnings: Smut, Clueless Reader, Canon Typical Zosan Fighting, Praise Kink (if you squint) Word Count: 3.2k

“Shut the hell up, mosshead!”

“Only if you get out of my goddamn face, you damn cook!”

Your crewmates were moments away from tearing each other’s throats out. They always were, of course, but the tension had grown so thick lately it was almost hard to breathe in the same room as them. You have no idea what caused them to turn into rabid dogs, constantly barking in your ears, but it was absolutely unbearable.

“Will you two stop?” Nami smacks them both softly upside the head, glaring harshly. “Don’t make this our problem. Look around, you two. Look at what you’re doing.” There’s something behind her words you can’t quite make out, and both of their gazes turn specifically to you, taking in your tense shoulders and the way you’ve begun to hunch in on yourself a bit. The tension eases slightly as they both slump a little with shame, before Sanji quickly grabs your hands.

“I’m so sorry, my dear. I never meant to make you uncomfortable. The brute and I will stop now. “

“Brute?” Zoro snaps. “You little–” He looks at your face before stopping, letting out a huff, and storming out.

Sanji reluctantly lets go of your hands when a timer goes off in the distance. “Well, duty calls, angel.” He skitters off into the kitchen.

The rest of the crew lets out a relieved sigh. Brook places a skeletal hand on your shoulder. “Good luck with that.”

“What?”

Robin and Franky chuckle, like this is a joke you aren’t in on, and Nami sighs. “You really don’t know?”

“Know what exactly?”

“Oh my god.” She sighs, resting her head in her hands. Everyone else laughs again, slowly filing out and patting her on the back, silently designating her with the task of explaining.

“What is it? What don’t I know?”

“The reason they’ve been fighting. You haven’t noticed a pattern at all?”

You think back to all of the most recent arguments you’ve witnessed, and you can’t think of a single thing that connects them. One about who was more handsome, one over who was stronger, and, strangely, one over who was better at fishing, which is something you didn’t think either of them were particularly invested in. “They’re the same stupid fights they’ve always been, just worse.”

“Not…exactly. Think harder. Have you walked in on any fights recently? Or have they always started when you’re there?”

You’ve been unfortunate enough to witness the rising tension firsthand every time recently. “I’ve been there for all of them. It’s sucked.”

“So you’ve been there for every single one.”

“Well I don’t know if they’ve fought when I’m not around. I’m not there.”

She sighs deeply. “I–okay. That’s fair actually. If I told you they barely ever fought when you weren’t around, would that help at all?”

You narrow your eyes, puffing out your cheeks slightly in thought. “It’s…my fault.”

“Yes?”

“They’re…mad at me.”

“Wait–”

“They hate me.”

“No! Oh my god. They’re fighting over you. Because they’re in love with you.”

Your eyes widen, jaw going slack against your will. “What?”

“You really never noticed? Why do you think Sanji insists on dragging you to the kitchen and slowly rolling up his sleeves directly in front of you, and constantly unbuttoning his top button? Or why Zoro insists on training in front of you, or doing push ups with you on his back?”

You pout. “They’re my friends and they wanna spend time with me?”

Nami hesitates at that. “Okay, um. Yes. That too. But they only do it with you. Sanji hates letting other people into the kitchen that much. And Zoro hates being bothered when he’s training. They’re trying to show off. They want to show off how strong and cool they are, because they want you to fall at their feet and beg to have sex with them.” She sees your eyes dim a bit at that, so she quickly corrects. “They want you to like them, is the point. I mean they definitely also want the sex, but really they just want you, and the idea of the other one getting you first pisses them off.”

You blink. “Oh.” You shift, eyes narrowing in thought. “So…they want to have sex with me.”

“Yeah. A lot.”

You think for a moment, wondering how you could possibly choose between the two of them. Your dear friends, your dear, wonderful, handsome, sexy friends. “What do I do now?”

“You pick one, I guess.” Nami sees the frown on your face, and you can see the realization sink in. “Or…you don’t?”

“Do you think they’d be okay with that?”

“For anyone else? No, probably not. I think their pride would get in the way. But for you?” She smirks. “I think they’d do anything you wanted, and they wouldn’t even have to think for a single second about it.”

“I wouldn’t want to push them into anything they’re uncomfortable with.”

“You think they of all people could be pushed into anything they’re uncomfortable with?” She laughs. “I promise you, they wouldn’t. Just go ask. I think you’ll be happy with their response. And the rest of us won’t have to listen to their stupid dick measuring contests anymore.”

You leave the kitchen, steps lighter and filled with determination. Your extremely hot and wonderful friends want you, and you want them. You have great things ahead of you.

Zoro is up in the crow’s nest training, shirtless and sweating, which seems to be his default state. He sees you out of the corner of his eyes, and his next slash is particularly strong and dramatic. He even looks back to see how you react. How did you not notice the way his eyes lingered on you before?

“Hey Zoro?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you meet me in my room in about an hour? I need to talk to you.”

His eyes absolutely light up, even if his face remains neutral. “Hm? Yeah, sure, I can do that.” When he thinks you aren’t looking, he has the smuggest smirk you’ve ever seen on his face. He thinks he’s won. And he has, in a way.

You wander to find Sanji in the kitchen next. “Sanji?”

“Yes, my love?” He gives you an affectionate smile before returning his attention back to the onions he’s chopping.

“Can you meet me in my room in an hour? I have something important to talk to you about.”

He doesn’t try to hide the way he lights up, giving you a heartstopping smile. “Of course, angel! I won’t keep you waiting!” He starts humming a love song as you leave, affection written clearly on his face.

And then you wait. A few times you wonder if this is a bad idea, if it will make them hate you, but you reassure yourself that Nami would have told you if it would fail. She wouldn’t let you walk into a trap like that. You bounce your leg anxiously as you wait for your friends to arrive.

Sanji is first, of course. He shows up exactly an hour from when you talked, down to the second, an offering of your favorite drink in hand. “Hello, darling. I brought something for you!” His smile is so excited you almost feel bad for not letting him know the rest.

“Thank you, Sanji. That’s so sweet.” You take it gladly, taking a grateful sip and letting the flavor wash over you.

“So what did you want to talk about?” He’s leaning closer, longing clear on his face, but you hold strong instead of kissing him senseless like you want to.

“I can’t start until we’re all here.”

“We? All?”

Zoro opens the door nearly immediately after, joy clear on his face before it sours at the sight of Sanji. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“Darling, why is this bastard interrupting?” Sanji is glaring at him, putting himself between you two as though he’s protecting you.

You set your drink down on a table before regarding both of them. “I need to talk to both of you. …If you’re okay with that.”

They regard each other a moment before humming in affirmation, looking at you expectantly.

“So I found out recently that you guys are…fond of me.”

They nod.

“And I’m fond of both of you.”

Another nod.

“And I thought that…maybe…we could all share in that fondness. Together. At the same time.”

“You want a threesome?” Zoro is straight to the point.

“Well, more than one, ideally.” He laughs, while Sanji sits in silence, brow furrowed in thought. You continue, unable to stop yourself in your anxiety. “I like you guys a lot, and I was hoping you’d be okay with this, but I understand if you aren’t–”

“I’m okay with it.” Sanji speaks up with a firmness you didn’t expect. You expected an argument, maybe reluctant agreement, but he seems to have no reservations. “Whatever you want, I’ll do. Simple as that.”

“I don’t want this if you don’t, though.”

“I do want this.” His cheeks turn a little pink. “The thought is…not terrible.”

“I’m also down.” Zoro immediately starts approaching. “So we should start now, right? Break this whole thing in?”

You freeze for a moment, a deer in headlights. You really expected at least a little arguing. “So you guys are really okay with it?”

“Yeah.”

“Absolutely.”

“Shit. Um, okay. I wasn’t ready for this to go well. Uh, let’s start then. I guess.”

“Yes ma’am!” Sanji is on you before you can even process he’s moved, hands hooking under your thighs and pulling you against him. He kisses you hard, but before you can sink in and enjoy, he’s flipped you around to face Zoro. “Let’s christen this voyage, huh?”

Zoro scoffs. “That was so cheesy.” Even with his annoyed grumble, he seems pretty thrilled. He captures your mouth with his own, rough and demanding. His lips are chapped, and he quickly slides his tongue across your lips, demanding they open. You do so gladly, allowing his entrance, and you’re quickly overwhelmed by the sensation of Zoro taking what he wants from you as Sanji grinds against you, hands wandering and squeezing everything they find. He gropes your breasts, your thighs, before eventually landing on your clothed cunt, making you gasp into Zoro’s mouth.

“God, darling, you feel just as wonderful as I imagined.” Sanji’s voice is dripping with affection and lust as he squeezes you again. “So soft, so perfect. Absolutely made for us.”

Zoro parts from you just to comment. “You really are,” he mutters, squeezing your tits. “Absolutely perfect. Can’t wait to ruin you.”

Sanji makes a soft tsk. “Not ruin. You could never ruin such perfection.”

“Watch me.”

Zoro quickly sheds you of your top and bra, leaving your tits on display for the two of them. They both pause in their movements a moment, just quietly admiring your body, before their hands fight over who gets to feel you first. Sanji ends up with your right breast and Zoro ends up with your left as they both squeeze and prod however they want. When Zoro gives a particularly hard squeeze to your nipple you can’t help but whine, rolling your head forward into his shoulder. This makes you miss the shit-eating grin he gives Sanji, but the other man notices it immediately. In response, he shoves his hands down your pants, rougher than he would normally be, quickly finding your clit to rub.

“Oh god,” you cry, muffled by the fabric of Zoro’s shirt.

“Hear that, mosshead? That was all me.”

“Oh yeah?” Zoro’s voice is cocky as he rolls your breast in his fingers again, making you moan. “I’d say that was me.”

“You two are insufferable,” you murmur.

“You think?” They chorus, and you realize that there’s always one thing they can agree on: a common enemy. Quickly their hands start to work in unison instead of opposition, Zoro always squeezing whenever Sanji takes a break and vice versa. They don’t allow you a single moment of peace, always pushing you closer and closer to the brink, closer and closer to losing yourself, before they pull back, not quite ready to give you your pleasure quite yet.

You don’t remember losing your pants. You were too focused on the feeling of Sanji’s bare erection pressed against your ass, the feeling of his warmth against your back, the sight of Zoro’s scarred chest and perfect cock right before your face. Sanji pushes you down so you’re eye level with it as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“Get ready, sweetheart. We’re not going to go easy on you.”

“Don’t listen to him, angel. We’d never be rougher than you can take.” You can’t help but notice the implication that there is a level of roughness you can take, but you don’t voice the thought, left silent by the heat of their bodies and the tension in the room. You’re practically drooling at this point for somebody, anybody to fill one of your waiting holes.

“Please,” you mutter, unsure exactly what you’re asking for, or from who you want it. You just want them, all of them, and they’re more than happy to provide.

“Of course, sweetheart. Just relax. We’ll take care of you.” Zoro’s voice is gentler than you’d expect when brushes his tip against your mouth. His hand tangles itself in your hair, ready to guide you forward, but he’s careful not to pull too hard.

“We’re here for you, always.” Sanji’s voice is gentle as well, but his hands on your thighs are rougher than you’d expect. You had always imagined him a tender lover, treating you as though you’re made of glass, but it seems the spirit of competition has made his hold a little tighter. You’re excited to see if it makes any other parts of him rougher as well.

They thrust in at the same time. Zoro fills your throat slowly but steadily, and Sanji fills your hole in a single thrust, pushing you forward into Zoro. You moan around him, and he shivers at the feeling of the vibrations. He pets your head affectionately, muttering quietly, “That’s it, sunshine. Just like that.”

“Oh god angel, you’re even more perfect than I imagined.” Sanji relishes in the feeling of bottoming out in you, in your warmth and wetness. He allows his eyes to close for a moment, head thrown back with pleasure, before he allows his hands to settle on your hips and prepares himself for the job ahead.

They make eye contact, sharing a single nod before they begin to move without mercy.

You expect Zoro to demolish your throat without hesitation, but his movements are slow and precise. You expect Sanji to take his time enjoying you, but his thrusts are quick and deep, relishing in the feeling of you. You wonder if having them together has evened them out, bringing them to a center between Zoro’s harshness and Sanji’s carefulness that allows them both to lose themselves a bit, treating you less like a toy or glass and more like another person who’s simply thrilled to participate.

As you move, Sanji squeezes your hips just firm enough to keep you still without risking bruising your skin. He leans down, pressing warm kisses to your back, muttering praising words, yes and more and just like that, angel against your skin. Zoro is also whispering to you, as one hand rests in your hair and the other rests on the back of your neck possessively. His words are less obviously worshiping but no less affectionate, even as he whispers more and yes, good girl and fuck to nobody in particular. You close your eyes, soaking in the words of the men against you, absorbing their warmth and affection and need. You don’t think you’ve ever heard their voices turn more desperate or wanting than they are right now.

Sanji gives one particularly hard thrust, pushing you further up Zoro’s cock until your nose is resting in his pubic hair, and they both give a deep moan in unison.

“Yes!”

“God, there you go!”

You honestly couldn’t tell who said what at this point, too lost in the sensation of it all.

As their thrusts grow rougher and more sloppy, Zoro’s hand starts to grip your hair tighter, pulling in a way that makes you keen. Sanji slides one of his hands from your hip to your clit, rubbing small precise circles around the bud. You thrust your hips slightly when he does, and you can hear him chuckle. “Almost there, darling. Just a little more.”

Zoro cums first, thrusting deep into your throat and holding you there as he cums in your mouth, inadvertently forcing you to swallow it all. He gives a few small thrusts into your mouth, fully emptying himself, before he pulls out. You manage to ground yourself for long enough to look him in the eye and open your mouth wide, sticking out your tongue, showing him not a single drop was wasted. He groans, lust clear on his face.

You expect Sanji to be second as his thrusts grow more erratic, but then you hear his soft whispers. “So close, angel. Just a little more. Together now.” His finger on your clit is relentless, calluses rubbing you in all the right ways. It’s only once you let out a high pitched moan, tightening around him, that he allows himself to release into you, painting your insides white. You clench around him, and he leans forward, biting gently into your shoulder, just enough to ground himself. He continues thrusting into you and giving attention to your clit until he’s sure you’re finished, before he finally pulls out, cum leaking from your cunt onto the wooden floor.

You’re about ready to collapse, but before you can, a pair of strong arms wraps around you, guiding you to your bed. “You did great,” Zoro murmurs softly, resting your head against your pillows. Sanji disappears for a moment before reappearing with a damp washcloth, which he uses to lovingly clean you up and erase any trace of the act other than the bite mark on your shoulder and cum inside of you.

“Did you like that?” You murmur sleepily. You know they did, felt it firsthand, but you still feel the need to confirm.

“More than you could ever know,” Sanji whispers tenderly. He then grows a vicious smirk. “And it felt wonderful to be the first one to make you cum, darling. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, with or without current company.”

Zoro scoffs. “You may have made her cum first but I’ll make her cum faster next time, just you watch.”

“In your dreams, mosshead. Though I guess you do know something about cumming fast.”

“Watch yourself, cook.”

You laugh as you realize this didn’t solve any of the arguments your crew thought it would. That’s alright, though. You didn’t mind. They could fight over you any day.

#sanji x reader #zoro x reader #zoro x reader x sanji #sanji x reader x zoro #one piece x reader #x reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #zoro x you #zoro x y/n

223 notes · View notes

hyunjin1e · 1 year ago

Text

POISON, jess mariano

summary: jess has always kept to himself. never cared to like a girl since it “wasted his time,” but when he meets her…

pairings: jess mariano x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, smoking, making out, jess’ in love !

POISON

it all started with...

"jess, go help out that table," his uncle demanded, too busy sweeping the counter to look at him.

"yes, uncle Luke." huffed the boy, murmuring something under his breath, staring at his feet as they moved towards the table.

once his eyes locked with yours, as poetic as it sounds, the world around him, stopped.

"I-what can I get you?" he asked, quickly collecting himself as he awaited for your answer.

"uhh, a danish." you hummed, your eyes skimming the boy, seeing him for the first time.

his eyes looked down, spotting a book you've been reading, "pride and prejudice, huh?"

"you read?" to find someone your age, matter of fact, a boy, that reads, wasn't something you hear everyday.

"not much." was all he said.

oh.

"aha." you hummed as a reply.

"hemingway's better," the boy continued.

"yeah?" you raised your brow.

"yeah." he stared into your eyes, daring you to say something.

"jess! get the girl her goddamn food!" the boy, jess, rolled his eyes at his uncle, giving the girl one last smirk before leaving her table.

"one danish to that girl." jess stated, throwing the notepad onto the counter and making his way upstairs, deciding to finish his shift for the day.

jess was smoking a cigarette at the lake when he heard her voice again.

"smoking can kill you." you say as you sit down next to him, your legs dangling from the bridge.

jess looked at you, tilting his face a bit before averting his eyes back to the lake.

"yeah, well.." he didn't know what to say.

"it'll be a shame, too pretty to die." you said quietly, loud enough for him to hear, though.

"are you flirting with me?" the boy smirks, looking at your face once again.

"why, is it working?"

"well I feel quite flattered." he smiles, putting a smile on your face too.

"you're pretty too." he says after a bit of silence.

"thank you, jess."

"hey! you know my name, tell me yours."

"dunno, I like being mysterious." you gave a cheeky smile.

"please?" he tried giving you his best puppy eyes, which worked.

"y/n."

once jess heard your name come out of your lips, he paused, his eyes slowly drifting around your face, finally putting a name to the face.

"well, y/n, come walk with me?" he stood up, proposing his hand for you to take.

you take his hand, lifting yourself up and letting him take anywhere.

"what's with you and y/n?" Luke bursts into their shared room, startling jess, who has been leaning on Luke's bed, one hand holding his book.

"what do you mean?" his ears seemed to prick up at your name.

"you know what I mean! running around with y/n for 2 months now!"

"look, I might be in love with her." he stated.

"in love?! jess, you're 17." his uncle yelled confusingly.

"so?! im 18 soon. y/n is amazing, I've never felt like this before."

"I never saw you like this before!" Luke sighed, calming down. "just don't fuck up." and with a final nod, he left, leaving jess with a small smile on his face.

jess pulled himself up, reaching for the phone.

"y/n, hi." he smiled, biting his lip.

"jess!" your voice came from the other side, making his smile grow wider.

"meet me at the bridge in 5." and with that he ended the call, rushing downstairs and out the diner.

once he reached the bridge, he was out of breath. he ran so he could make it before you, so you didn't overthink if he bailed on you or not.

"jessie" you smile teasingly once you meet him.

"y/n." he did the same.

"anything you wanted to ask me?" you raise your brow.

"right! y/n, I know we only know eachother for a bit more than two months, but I fell for you. your smile, our share of love for books and music, your random rants late at night. I fell for you."

he awaited for your answer, his heart beating out of his chest, he has never done that before. the first time he saw you, he was addicted. it was like poison. you were poison.

but he loves it. he loves you.

"I fell for you too." your face hurt from smiling.

that was all jess needed for him to pull you into a long kiss, grabbing onto your neck, he kissed you long and good.

both could stayed like that forever.

#jess mariano #gilmore girls #luke danes #jess mariano x reader #rory gilmore #gilmore girls x reader

949 notes · View notes

thefty-o · 3 months ago

Text

Holiday Magic Mishap 2

I roll over in bed, my massive form barely contained by the king-size mattress. Even half-asleep, I can feel my cock throbbing, achingly hard and leaking pre-cum onto my abs. Christ, when did I get so damn horny all the time?

As I stretch, my biceps bulge obscenely, pushing against the headboard and leaving dents in the wood. Oops. I chuckle, my voice a low rumble that seems to shake the room. Everything feels so small lately - chairs creak under my weight, doorways seem narrower, and don't even get me started on clothing.

Speaking of which, I swing my tree-trunk legs over the side of the bed, fumbling for the sweatpants I discarded last night. They're comically small now, barely covering my quads and doing nothing to hide my morning wood. Whatever. It's the last day of our trip, and I've given up trying to find clothes that fit.

I lumber towards the bathroom, ducking under the doorframe. The mirror captures my reflection, and goddamn, I can't help but admire myself. Silver-streaked hair tops a ruggedly handsome face, strong jaw dusted with stubble. My shoulders are broader than the doorway, tapering down to a narrow waist and powerful legs. And right in the center, my cock stands proud, easily 12 inches long and thick as a beer can.

"Fuck, Johnson, when did you become such a stud?" I mutter, flexing my pecs. Each one is the size of a watermelon, my nipples puffy and sensitive. I give them a little tweak, groaning at the jolt of pleasure.

A knock at the door interrupts my self-admiration. "Dad? You decent?" It's my son's voice.

I laugh. "Decent? Son, I haven't been decent in days. Come on in if you dare."

The door creaks open, and my boy peeks his head in. Was he always this small? I swear he used to be taller. "Jesus, Dad," he mutters, averting his eyes from my barely-covered crotch.

"What's the matter, boy? Never seen a real man before?" I tease, turning to face him fully. My cock twitches, and I swear I see his eyes widen.

"I, uh, just wanted to let you know breakfast is ready," he stammers. "We're leaving in a couple hours."

I nod, scratching my hairy chest. "I'll be down in a minute. Gotta take care of this morning wood first." I wink at him, enjoying how he squirms.

As he scurries away, I can't help but feel a surge of... something. Pride? Lust? It's hard to tell these days. Everything just feels so damn good.

I make my way downstairs, the steps groaning under my weight. In the kitchen, my son and his boyfriend are already eating. The boyfriend - what was his name again? - looks up at me, his jaw dropping slightly.

"Morning, boys," I rumble, grabbing a chair and carefully lowering myself into it. The wood creaks ominously, but holds. "Pass the eggs, would you?"

As the boyfriend reaches for the plate, I can't help but notice how small his arms look. Weren't they bigger at the start of the trip? And his shirt seems baggy now, hanging off his frame.

"You feeling alright, son?" I ask, concerned. "You're looking a bit... deflated."

He blinks, confused. "I feel fine, Mr. Johnson. Why do you ask?"

I shrug my massive shoulders. "Just looking out for you. Can't have my future son-in-law wasting away, can I?"

My son chokes on his coffee, and I laugh, the sound booming through the kitchen. "What? You think I don't know? Please, boys. I may be old, but I'm not blind."

The boyfriend blushes, and I feel a stirring in my loins. Fuck, he's cute when he's embarrassed. I shift in my seat, trying to adjust my swelling cock without being too obvious.

"So, what's the plan for our last day?" I ask, shoveling eggs into my mouth. I'm always so damn hungry lately.

My son clears his throat. "Well, we thought we might hit the slopes one last time. You up for it, Dad?"

I grin, flexing my arm. The sleeve of my t-shirt - already stretched to its limit - finally gives up and splits along the seam. "You bet your ass I am. Think they make skis big enough for me?"

As we finish breakfast and start getting ready, I can't shake this feeling of... power. It's like I'm more alive than I've ever been. Every movement feels charged with energy, every glance from others filled with awe or lust or both.

In the ski lodge, I can feel all eyes on me as I struggle to find gear that fits. The largest ski jacket barely zips over my chest, and I've given up on finding pants that can contain my thighs and ass.

"Fuck it," I mutter, stripping down to my underwear. "I'll ski in my boxers if I have to."

My son looks mortified, but his boyfriend can't seem to tear his eyes away from my body. I wink at him, enjoying the way he squirms.

As we make our way to the lifts, I notice how people part before me like the Red Sea. Men stare in envy, women (and more than a few men) in naked lust. I breathe deep, the cold air filling my massive lungs, my cock swelling with each admiring glance.

At the top of the run, I look down the slope, feeling invincible. "Race you boys to the bottom," I challenge, my voice a low growl that seems to vibrate through the air.

Before they can respond, I push off, my powerful legs propelling me down the mountain. The wind whips past me, my nearly-naked body impervious to the cold. I hear whoops and cheers as I fly past other skiers, my massive form a blur of muscle and motion.

As I cross the finish line, far ahead of my son and his boyfriend, I roar in triumph. The sound echoes across the valley, and I swear I feel the mountain tremble beneath my feet.

God, it feels good to be a man.

#muscle theft #muscletheft #dad #reality change #thefty-o

103 notes · View notes

nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 1 year ago

Note

Hello!! I'm new to this blog (been stalking your posts for an hour now and your content is so goooood) and new to the entire asking and stuff but I saw you have like little snippets of commenting on stuff and all or answering little things people send you and I wanted to put my two cents in because the way you write Shanks Mihawk and Sanji has me weakkkk

I really love the idea of a silent language between them and their lovers. Like especially Mihawk because both Sanji and Shanks are loud and proud but like the kind of silent language where you can understand a 'take me out of here' or 'please don't react to this idiot' or a 'omg did you see that puppy it's so cute' kind of thing with just your eyes or some touches a certain way in the arm or smth I don't know I'm so weak for these men and I love your writing of them okay byeee

Ahem:

(been stalking your posts for an hour now and your content is so goooood)

First of all, may I just say the following:

Thank you so so so so so much!! I'm incredibly glad and grateful that you've enjoyed everything. This whole blog is really just a mess of simping and shitposting lately. And it has also been my personal venting space. And given my life as of the late has been some unholy conglomeration of a shitshow, a soap opera, and a dumpster fire (a ShitFire DumpsterOpera Show, if you will), I remain wholly astounded on a day to day basis that anyone at all has even remained with me for this long. I've only been on Tumblr for three months myself, since around the end of September.

Aaaaanywho.

I love the silent language idea. Definitely a thing with Mihawk. I can still see it working with Sanji. Definitely not with Shanks though, poor bb couldn't keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it.

But basically, as a scenario, Reader is sitting at the bar being hit on by some Random Weirdo and looking for a quick, preferably quiet way out of the situation and tries to silently signal one of them and.....

Reader: *catches eye of S/O* *curt nod toward Weirdo to signify her discomfort*

Sanji: *hurries over* Everything alright, love? *pulls you to his side, glaring pointedly at Weirdo*This prick bothering you?

May or may not dissolve into a fight

Mihawk: *lifts an eyebrow and nods toward his sword at his back* *you quickly shake your head, no need to slice anyone in half today* *he just rolls his eyes a bit, strolls over, and puts himself between you and Weirdo* *and casually leads you away, attracting no further attention*

No fight, you leave without causing any sort of scene at all

Shanks: *catches your eye* *catches Random Weirdo's eye* *literally shouting from the other side other tavern while you cringe and lay your head down on the bar* Hey, jackass! You lay one goddamned hand on her and so help me-"

Full-on barroom-brawl chaos ensues

#asks #shanks #mihawk #sanji #mini headcanon #headcanon #opla #one piece #opla headcanons #one piece heascanons #shanks x reader #mihawk x reader #sanji x reader

211 notes · View notes

passivenovember · 7 months ago

Text

Harringrove Relay Race -- passing the torch to @raven-cl ! Run babe RUN!

blooming forth, it's every color in the moments it has left.

Turns out, shit hits the fan in the dark.

Steve’s known that. It’s still a surprise when Billy takes Max and hits the ground hot with his feet aching after a long shift at the pool, even though his sandals are covered in blood. His. Neil's.

Doesn't actually matter, because when Steve wakes up to a phone call so late in the night he thinks someone's gotta be dead or dying, or they need to get sucked off like they need air and water and Steve's gotten himself penciled in as the number-one, go-to asshat for both types of situations--

Point is, the phone goddamn rings. Sounds like pennies being thrown against the walls of Steve’s two-bedroom apartment. And it's the middle of the night. All that matters is that when Steve rolls over and yanks the receiver from its cradle, all, "Someone better be dying–”

Billy's trying his best not to cry. "I hit him," Billy says, an earthquake that shakes the foundation of the city. That gets Steve wide-eyed and fearful and awake. "Fuck, Steve, I hit him--"

“What?” Steve sits ramrod in bed, covers a limp and useless pool around him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm. There's, like. Blood," Billy says, "I guess."

"You guess?"

"I'm okay. Nothing’s broken," Billy pulls away from the phone to say something to someone. To Max, Steve would bet money on it. And then he says, "I have blood on my feet. And. Max has blood in her hair so it looks black, almost, and. Shit, Steve, I hit him--"

"Where are you?”

"--It might be Neil's blood," Billy tells him. Like Steve's lost in the weeds, here. Like he needs a compass pointing him toward the huge, terrible obvious truth. "I--"

"Fuck who's blood it is," Steve tells him, already upright struggling into a pair of week-old jeans. He tries not to focus on that, swallows against the urge to be harsh with himself, because he was knocked out two minutes ago, dreaming of the pretty pink pucker of Billy's cunt when the phone rang. "That's not important. Where are you," Steve asks, cock still hard because he's human, getting tangled in the phone cord, "You said. Is Max--"

"She's okay. We're at a gas station about twenty miles outside of town."

Steve's hard-on dies. "Twenty miles outside of town?"

"Yeah."

"What are you talking about?" Steve doesn't put a shirt on. He throws a jacket over his chest. Billy's jacket. Doesn't even zip the thing. "Never mind. I'm coming to get you."

"The car works, you don't need to get out of bed."

"I'm dressed, I'm out of bed," Steve says, teasing, "Stay put. Are you, like. East or west, twenty miles out of town?"

"Steve," Billy says, and it casts an unflattering spotlight on everything.

Steve ducks to hide from it, searching under his bed for a pair of shoes. "Okay, yeah. Stupid fucking question to ask, but I was asleep--"

"We have to go," Billy tells him.

"Okay," Steve says quickly. Doesn't like the tone of Billy's voice. "Let's go, blue. Where are we going?"

“Max and I–”

“--And you and me,” Steve finishes for him.

“Steve,” Billy says. “You know Max and I can't stay here."

Steve shoves his bare feet into a pair of shoes. Rain boots. "So, you're just gonna leave? Without saying goodbye? There’s no other option, here?”

"This isn't about you."

"Fine," Steve says, stalking over to his dresser mirror. The phone cord tugs on him, not nearly long enough, and he fights the urge to rip it out of the wall. Doesn’t. 'Cause. He'd lose Billy.

Steve fiddles with it, anyway, trying to keep calm. “How’re you gonna get there?”

“We’ll drive.”

“Okay, and what happens when you get to where you’re going?”

“Wow, aren’t you the bearer of bad fuckin’ news–”

“--Billy, you don't have money.”

“So?”

“So, I have money,” Steve concludes, “A shit load of it.”

"Fuck you, I have a shitload of money."

"No, you don't."

"Yeah huh, I've been saving up."

Steve snorts, grasping at straws because. It’s true. The exact opposite of everything Steve’s been hoping would never happen, the same thing as a knife slicing through his heart. Billy’s been saving. Steve knows he’s been saving because Steve pays for every date because Steve’s a dead fuckin’ end and has nothing to goddamn lose by treating his boy right. He’s not going anywhere from here, but Billy–

"You're not leaving,” Steve says.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Fine, then,” Steve backtracks expertly, a perk of what he learned dating girls for nineteen years before this. “You can’t go without saying goodbye.”

“Sap.”

“Let me kiss you, man. I fuckin’. I love--"

"--Steve--"

"--No, it's alright. I gotta say this, 'cause. Every fucking thing in my life is about you, right?"

Billy groans. When he speaks again, his voice is muffled by the wall of whatever payphone booth he's standing in. "You're so annoying."

"So are you. I'm being honest," Steve says. He ducks, a little, peering at his reflection from across the room so he can run a hand through his hair, at least, 'cause.

He's still got a crush on Billy, after all this time. Sue him.

"You're, like," Steve says intelligently, choking to death. "You're everything. You chopped everything up with just bein' yourself and slid into its place and I fuckin' care about you more than. Everything. And if you're going to run away to California--"

"--Who said I was--"

"--Twenty miles west outside of Hawkins?" Steve points out.

Billy doesn't say anything.

Through the static of the phone line, Steve imagines him cast in the grimy street glow of payphone booth glass, tempered but breaking. Twenty miles away but already gone.

Makes Steve crazy. Makes him want to hold on tighter, hard enough to break his own fingers. "I just," He starts, turning from the mirror, "I always thought, or. Maybe I've been thinking lately that if you're going to California, I'd be there to help."

To see you off. To hold your hand. To beg you to make room enough in your suitcase for me to come along–

"Oh yeah? You've been thinking that always?" Billy teases, and. It's gotta be a good thing. That even though he has blood on his feet, he's feeling okay enough to crack-wise.

"Please," Steve says. Tells him. Begs. Has nothing left to do but make it through this phone call even though he's about to shake loose from his own skin.

Steve is very cool these days.

Billy pulls away from the phone and says something, to Max, in a soft, pillow-top rumble that does shit, like. To Steve's belly. His heart. The very rotten, love-sick matter of who he is. Who Billy has turned him into.

Steve bites his tongue hard enough to taste blood, swallowing every single please please please that shifts like the fabric of a sourdough starter in the back of his throat. Steve paces. Taps his foot. Digs his nails into the palm of his free hand while Billy and Max argue in hushed voices for what feels like hours and years.

Finally, Billy says, "Okay, fuckin'. What happens if Neil hears that we haven't left town?"

Steve has to focus so his knees don't give out, full of relief. "That won’t happen. No one pays attention to me. This is an apartment complex."

"Yeah, but what if he drives by and sees the car?"

"I'll kill him," Steve says. Simple, because it is.

Billy snorts. It almost, almost, sounds like a laugh. "'Kay, well. Say he doesn't go looking for the Camaro. What if he calls Hawkins High to try and find out about Max?”

“He won’t.”

“You’re fuckin’ stupid for saying that,” Billy snaps, “Neil doesn’t give a shit about me but her? He won’t let her–”

“--I won’t let him–”

“Shut up; just. What if he shows up during fifth period and--"

"--We're both over eighteen. We’re old as shit, old enough to drink, almost, We'll. I dunno. We’ll change her emergency contact first thing tomorrow so they'll call me at the video store when he breaks into the building," Steve says, "And then I can take my fifteen-minute break to drive over there and kill him."

Billy does laugh that time. Sounds like it hurts. He pulls away from the phone to repeat Steve's evil plan to Max, who starts laughing, too, and Steve would do anything for them. He would be anything for them.

"Come over," Steve says, coiling the phone line around his hand, "Just until we can figure something else out. We can park your car ‘round back by the slop sinks. No one ever goes over there, we can hide you."

"Steve--"

"I can't watch you walk away from me, Billy," Steve says, and. His voice. Fuckin’. Cracks. Like glass and barren earth. A fist to the back of his own head, still. Desperately, pathetically in love with Billy even after all this time. Still drowning in the intensity of it. Sue him.

"Fuck, this is so fucking dumb," Billy says, aching. But he tells Max to sit in the car.

Steve considers it a win.

He decides not to waste the get-up.

Twenty miles'll go by in a heartbeat, and Billy has a tendency to sugarcoat shit when it comes to the marks Neil Hargrove leaves behind. Tends to get jumpy, ready to go pedal-to-the-metal.

Steve prepares for the worst. Makes three cups of coffee, to fight the dregs of the worst, and then dumps them into the sink when he remembers that Max is sixteen years old and it's a Wednesday. Thursday, now.

Whatever.

He makes tea, instead, and sits in the shitty lawn chair on his porch, sipping a mug of the very same chamomile bullshit that Robin keeps buying him.

Steve tries to cobble together a plan in under 30 minutes.

He imagines Billy, shaking and scared and covered in blood, on the canvas chair next to him. Asking how. How are you going to do this? How are you going to prove yourself a safe house for me and my kid sister?

Steve tries not to swallow his tongue, choking to death on the absolute weight of such a responsibility. He focuses on not dying. Hones in on how pissed Robin would be to discover such a close call, and how she would remind him to list the facts.

Truth is, a two-bedroom apartment is more than enough room, Steve tells her. Tells Billy, who looks easier to convince than the one who's on his way in from the edge of town. Everything will be alright. He'll fix up the couch for Max until he can get down to Red Oak Furniture after work tomorrow for a bed frame. He'll need to dip into his savings, but a sixteen year old girl needs her own space, she needs a bed.

Tears slide down Billy's cheeks and Robin disappears. When Billy cries he has a way of wounding everything around him.

His eyes say we need groceries. Steve needs to shop for groceries. Max won't eat a vegetable, but she's still growing, Harrington, and Steve doesn't make enough dough to afford fresh ingredients every week, just when he's putting on his a-game to get into Billy's pants, but.

He's always trying to get into Billy's pants.

Everything boils down to money. Steve needs a new job.

He sips Robin's shitty fuckin' chamomile and tries to focus on the immediate, too piss-poor to list the facts. He'll make tea when they arrive. Dinner, if they're hungry. The couch made up. The tea, drank, and tomorrow when the blood is gone from Billy's feet and his tears have dried, Steve'll call his father and beg for an assistant gig at the office downtown. He's got mouths to feed, now, he's got--

Billy's Camaro swings into view.

Steve jumps to his feet, rain boots squeaking, and holds his breath when the car disappears around the corner, parking where Steve said it would be safe.

"We're only staying for the night," Billy tells him, instead of hello, voice hard as marble the second Steve is close enough to really hear it.

Max throws the passenger door open.

Her backpack is stuffed. Soft. “What the fuck are you wearing?” Max demands.

Steve shifts under the intensity of her stare, embarrassed. “Billy said. I was gonna come and–”

“--You look stupid,” Max tells him helpfully.

Before Steve can move or breathe or think, Max storms past him in a fury of wild red hair and red, wet cheeks. "Thanks," Steve says, but the door slams shut before she hears him.

The entire apartment complex shakes. Hawkins, too, and the world, beyond that. Steve can't take his eyes off it, for a second. For a lifetime. It's a black hole, eating and eating and eating--

"Sorry about that," Billy says. When Steve looks at him, Billy's still half-hanging out of the car. One foot on the ground. Leaning against the gaping wound of the driver's seat with his arm on the lip of the door, like. Steve's going to take Max and tell Billy to fuck off forever.

His head is bald.

The cut is uneven, vicious. Almost like--

"Hey, pretty thing," Steve says. Everything's yellow from the Camaro's headlights, everything lies shattered in the grass around them. "Don't worry about it, she's upset."

Billy nods, the rest of him terrible and still.

Steve aches. He moves closer. "Baby. Do you want to come inside?"

"I didn't get to pack a bag," Billy says, like it matters, somehow.

It doesn't. "I have clothes you can wear," Steve tells him, padding closer, hands splayed as if approaching some sweet, terrified, rabid animal. “You know that you can have whatever you want, right? With me?”

Billy nods again, still unmoving. Still unseeing. "We're just staying until sunrise," Billy tells him, trained on the soft, fleshy landing of Steve's throat as it swings into view. "Just until it's light enough."

Billy's ear bleeds. Or. It did, at one point. Like someone came at him with a butcher's knife, swinging blindly but only getting his hair.

Steve has trouble remembering that the world isn’t burning around them

"It's just,” Billy tries, “It's not safe to drive when it's dark like this, y'know?"

"I know," Steve says. Billy's chest heaves like he's being chased, so. Steve nods. "Max is lucky to have someone like you. Someone who knows what they're doing."

"Right. So fucking lucky," Billy shakes his head, snorting bitterly. "Doesn't matter. Couple hours and we're gone, Harrington. I swear."

Steve reaches the car door, fiddling with its handle. Touching Billy without. Touching him. Testing the waters. "I'm not worried about it."

"You've probably never had to run from your fuckin’ house in the middle of the night," Billy tells him, finally looking at Steve but not. Seeing him. "This is the third time for me. First for Max."

Steve notices a black eye. A split lip.

Billy's still the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. "I've never had to run," Steve tells him, because it's easiest to get the hard shit out of the way, first.

He wants to know about the other two times.

He wants to ask about California. If things were the same with his father there. If Billy's really going as soon as it's light out. If the blood in Max’s hair is her own, and how Billy would feel about Steve pressing his thumbs into Neil's eye sockets before the sun rises and Billy has the chance to run away.

Maybe. The proven death of this monster will change things.

Steve inches closer, instead, past the lip of the car door. He slips into Billy's space, grateful when Billy lets Steve touch his chest, checking for injuries.

"I could always go home, before," Billy says, eyes unfocused over Steve's shoulder when fingers prod at his ribcage, "But. I never had Max. I always had to go home to make sure she was gonna be okay without me, and then I'd be too scared to leave her behind so I’d just stay put until–"

"Does it hurt when I press down like this?"

Billy shakes his head, "Steve. She's sixteen--"

"What about here? Does this hurt?"

"She wouldn't stay," Billy looks at him, then, tracking whatever emotion breaks like a wave between them, "Neil started, and. It got bad, Steve. And she wouldn't fuckin' stay put like I told her to, and now. We have no place to--"

"--Is she hurt?"

"She's homeless," Billy says. Steve exhales through his nose, trying to keep up. "We're homeless. I made her homeless," Billy tells him, with rising panic.

Steve takes his hand. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"We don't have anywhere to live, Steve."

"Billy, look at me," Steve grabs his face gingerly, staring into his beautiful, shattered, empty eyes. "You live here with me, baby. We're here together and I'm not going to let anything happen to you, right? Yes?"

Billy blinks at him, coming back to himself. He nods. "Just until tomorrow, right? Until I can--"

“Sure, whatever,” Steve says, playing along if that's what will get him into the house.

The shower's running.

Billy won't let go of Steve's hand so they shuffle through the cramped living room together on plan b, stuck like paper dolls. Max has made up the couch, and already has the T.V. on, so Steve leads Billy to the bedroom, depositing him gingerly onto the unmade mattress.

“Sit still,” Steve tells him.

“I know,” Billy says, far away even as he strangles the blood from Steve’s wrist. “Max was right, you look like a dork.”

“I was asleep when you called,” Steve says thinly. “I thought you were running away.”

“I was.”

“Ah, truth comes out,” Steve ducks to retrieve a battered first aid kit from under the nightstand, because. This isn't the first time Billy's shown up in the middle of the night but it’s the worst shape Steve’s seen.

Steve swallows that, too, and struggles to get the fuckin' thing open with only one hand. He can't feel the other, Billy's holding on so tight, but Steve's not complaining.

He holds on just as tight. Just as hard. Wonders what counts as running off, in Billy's mind. If there are certain boxes Neil has to check to push Billy to that point, the 'running away and never coming back,' point, and Steve can't sift through his rampant emotions quick enough to discover what it means that all those times Billy stumbled through the dark and Steve found him, bruised and bleeding all over Mrs. Harrington’s imported Oak flooring, that wasn't the worst of it.

“You don’t need stitches,” Steve says.

“You’re a good nurse,” Billy says, wincing at the forward burn of isopropyl against his ear lobe, “You’re hot. Anyone ever tell you that, Harrington.”

Steve grins, “Once or twice, maybe.”

“Real dime,” Billy says, working to meld their pulses together until they’re one.

Steve swallows a lump in his throat, everything he feels for this boy rushing to sit like water in his lungs. “Almost done,” Steve says. Wondering how someone could hurt this boy, this spot of gold. This vial of sunlight.

Billy winks at him, even though it’s starting to swell shut. “Thanks, doc,” He says.

“Don’t mention it,” Steve tells him, instead of run.

Instead you should’ve been a thousand miles away, by now.

Instead of drag me along.

It's ten minutes after Billy disappears into the bathroom before Steve ventures out with his first aid kit clutched in the hand Billy wouldn't let go of.

His fingers are still numb.

Max sees him and the aid box and immediately snorts at, incredulous. "I'm fine, Harrington, you can put your Barbie band-aids away."

Landmine. "Sure.”

“And your rain boots. You look–”

“Stupid, I know,” Steve shuffles, put on edge by the soft click of the T.V. remote in Max’s hand. “I just. Billy said that you had blood in your hair, and I just wanted to--"

"--It was Billy's," Max tells him, eyes trained carefully on the flickering screen in front of her.

Steve knows Max well enough now to get that she needs to be comforted, probably. She's still a kid, she's sixteen, but he also knows that the truth needs to be coaxed out of her, dripping like saliva past her rows and rows of sharp, vicious teeth. Just like Bill--

"Stop fidgeting like that. You look fucking stupid," Max tells him.

Like Steve said. A piranha. A sixteen-year-old hammerhead shark. The shower's still going so Steve frowns, tucking his first aid kit onto the coffee table. "It’s not just the rain boots?”

“No,” Max says, “It’s the whole outfit. And your big, dumb, worried eyes.”

“I’m sorry. I give a shit about you, and he said you were running away because he hit--"

"Yeah, I know what he said, and he didn't hit him. Not hard enough to do anything," Max snorts, again, mean. "Jesus Christ, he's so dramatic."

Steve nods, and the movement pulls her in. Brings her claws out.

"You’re dramatic, too. You were made for each other.”

“Okay.”

“Dumb and soft and earnest,” Max shakes her head, disappointed in them both. “Billy isn't dad. He thinks it's his fault. It isn't."

She says, like. Steve's going to lose his fuckin' mind and argue. "I know."

"He always thinks everything's his fault, but it's not. That's the Drama Bitch in him. He's a prima donna grade-a loser asshole but he's a good guy and he's my brother--"

"--Max, maybe we should--"

"I'm not moving back to California without any money," Max tells him, eyes on fire. "I'm not. I have a life here, I won’t starve to death here, so you can run in there and tell your stupid boyfriend that I'm not going until–"

"Right. Yeah, I," Steve swallows against the lump in his throat, "Max, you've gotta know that I'm not trying to make you leave."

Max snorts.

"I'm serious," Steve tells her, shuffling forward, "Why the fuck would I want that?”

“Won’t have to pay for all your dates, anymore,” Max tells him, and.

Steve. Didn’t know she knew about that. Didn’t know they were close enough to talk about boys, but he guesses. That’s probably a stupid thing to believe when Max ran away to be with her brother.

She sneers at him, "You're such a loser,” She says, disgusted by his presence.

Lights Steve on fire. "Why?”

"Because,” Max takes a deep, steadying breath, her grip so vice-like on the remote that Steve worries it will shatter. “Because you’re gonna let us stay here.”

“I thought you weren’t on board for California,” Steve demands, embarrassed that he’s angry at a sixteen year old girl for running away from home.

“God, you think you’re the only one who’s holding on to someone?” Max chuckles but it’s not a laugh. It’s mean and raw and bleeding.

Steve nods, reeling, drowning, sinking, flying, swimming, sailing--

"I'm hungry," Max says, and turns back to the T.V.

Steve loves Billy so he makes him something to eat, something heavy and full of starch to sop up all the bad shit inside of him. It works, for the time.

Max has three bowls, even though potatoes count as a vegetable.

They cram together afterward, three sardines on the couch clear of blood. Patched. They watch some stupid fucking cartoon thing until Max falls asleep and Billy can hardly keep his eyes open.

Steve tugs him close, says, "Let's go to bed, honey," And Billy comes, too tired to be irritating and awful. ‘S almost too bad.

When they fold onto the mattress Billy slots into all of Steve's empty spaces, a perfect fit of expanding ribs and tickling eyelashes. Steve pets over the knobs of Billy's spine. He focuses on the warm landing of Billy's forehead where it holds steady against his jaw, burning because of blood and split skin.

Steve tacks lips to Billy’s shorn skull, his forehead, his left ear, and tries to imagine death dropping his scythe on Neil Hargrove's cranium somewhere across this sleepy town. Wonders when everything became an eye for an eye.

"We'll be out of your hair tomorrow," Billy's lashes flutter against Steve's pulse, body tense and coiled and waiting.

Steve pets over his ribcage, says, "Don't be stupid," because. Might as well call it what it is. Billy tries to pull back, to tuck away, but Steve holds on tighter. Stubborn. "Why do you want to run from me so bad?"

"Not you," Billy says. Cramped and muffled against Steve's collarbone, "Hawkins."

"It'll miss you. So will Max," Steve says, petting over Billy's thigh, now, relishing the rough drag of boxer briefs against his fingertips, "Said she's not leaving."

"When?"

"Told me while you were cleaning up."

"What a surprise," Billy reports flatly, "Who gives a shit. She doesn't have a choice."

"Tell her that.”

"She's going. No matter what I’ve gotta do.”

“What if she fights you on it?”

“Then one of us will have blood on our feet, again."

Steve hums, fiddling with the hem of Billy's boxer briefs. Slipping his fingers under the lip. "You try and put her in that car and it won’t even be a fight. You'll be dead before sunset."

Billy snorts, rocking both of them. “She’s scrappy but I’ve got fifty pounds on her.”

“Sure, just muscle and good intentions.” Steve’s fingers tangle in the thatch of hair at Billy’s pelvis. It’s soft and curly, little blonde ringlets that smell like rain water.

Billy sighs, tilting back when Steve inches upupup his shaft. "Stop trying to get in my pants, Harrington."

"You have something I want," Steve tells him. It's easy to find Billy's cockhead, blooming with springtime mist. Steve smooths it with his thumb. He grins at the noise Billy makes, ducks to nibble at that cut jawbone. “You won’t be able to sleep if you don’t relax.”

"Shit," Billy says intelligently.

"Want you inside me. Want your fingers."

"Fuck you, I'm grieving,” Billy grumbles, but he cranes his neck. Makes room between his legs.

"I could take your mind off it for a little while,” Steve says. He untangles himself, shucking the covers and laying on his stomach next to Billy’s thighs. He smells like the earth, fresh and moist. Steve tugs at his boxers, mouth-watering when Billy’s cock nods and the popcorn ceiling.

“Steve,” Billy protests, choking on a moan when Steve swallows him down, teeth knotted in the feather down at Billy’s pelvis. "Baby, Max is in the next room."

Steve comes up for air, kissing the freckle at Billy’s tip. "She's asleep."

"You're such a whore,” Billy glares sharply, “Is this how it's gonna be every goddamn night?"

And.

Suddenly Steve's heart swells, pushing against the cavern of his ribcage. He must smile, must press love and lightning into Billy's forehead when Steve clamors to his knees and pets over the bruise there, so happy the bed's about to blast out from under them.

"Stop making that stupid face," Billy snorts, dabbing the saliva on Steve’s chin, "Lookin' at me like I'm gonna--"

"I love you," Steve says.

Billy shifts, his cheeks blooming pink, “Just sayin’ that because my cock is out.”

“Maybe,” Steve teases. Can't help it; every goddamn thing about himself. He's stupid, and happy, and so, so heartbroken. He licks at Billy’s cockhead, heart thumping elation through his limbs. "You're really gonna stay with me?"

Billy shrugs, fiddling with the stretched-out neckline of Steve's t-shirt. "I don't know where else we could go."

"California."

"Max said she's not going, right?" Billy mumbles, "And. You've made it pretty clear that you wouldn't either."

“I never said that.”

“Don’t have to say it, it’s in your voice?”

Billy’s talking in circles, feeding his insecurities because that’s what he does when he’s on the verge of something else.

“Oh yeah? What’s in my actions?” Steve slips down the mattress again and sucks Billy to the root, bobbing his head and opening his throat in earnest, licking and swallowing until Billy soft little noises splat against the walls like wads of bubblegum.

Billy groans, knotting his fingers in Steve’s hair.

His roots sing. “I’d go anywhere you asked me to,” Steve points out before Billy can speak. Sounds. Like swallowing rocks is his favorite thing. “The problem is you never ask me to.”

Billy shrugs.

“Ask me.”

“Steve–”

Steve pulls himself out of Billy’s hold and sucks him down again, swallowing. Only comes up for air when Billy starts writhing beneath him. “Say it.”

“I–”

“Say, ‘Steve, come home with me to California, I’ll teach you how to surf, we can live on the ocean–’”

“Costs a fuckin’ fortune to live on the waterline,” Billy stutters, mouth falling open with a groan when Steve spits on his cock. Works up a rhythm with the palm of his hand just so he can watch the way Billy’s stomach tugs at the waistband of Steve’s lended boxers.

He’s only a little worried that Max might hear them.

Not enough to stop, not when Billy’s throat opens bit by bit, little wrecked noises barely reaching Steve across the valley of air between them. Through the shutter of the blinds, Billy’s skin glows. Stardust and bushels of flowering lilac in the shape of fingers and fists, sprouting and withering along his neck and cheek and jawline, breathing and dying over and over and over again.

Billy cranes to watch him, lips raw and red and open, tongue lulling.

Steve cracks and splinters at the sight, at his wits end, at the height of all he’s ever felt–

“What?” Billy asks, chest heaving.

Steve climbs on top of him, swallowing the shock that flutters from between Billy’s lips. His cock presses into Steve’s ass, slick head trapped by Steve’s layer of encasing, rough cotton. It fits perfectly, just like the rest of him, like they were made for this. Each other. Finding solace and rhythm in the tattered edges of the night.

Steve sucks on Billy’s tongue, deepening the kiss. His thighs shake, his hips roll down, startling the air from Steve’s lungs. Or Billy’s. Both.

“Baby,” He says. Or Billy does, “Baby, I–”

Steve pulls back enough to see the tears clinging stubbornly to Billy’s lashes, drops of stardust stranded in bright blue skies. He wipes them away with his thumb, pressing their lips together in a chaste, sweet kiss.

Chokes on a thousand things. What he could’ve said, on all those other nights. What he isn’t saying now. What he’ll have to stumble over tomorrow so that things can get started on a solid foundation–

It all, just. Dies.

Steve rolls his hips, “I love you,” He says, breaking like waves where Billy’s skin is the shore. “Let me make love to you.”

Because it’s all that matters.

Uncertainty flashes, bright as lightning, across Billy’s face, and then it’s gone. “Okay,” He says, “Alright.”

–

“I lied,” Steve tells him, to distract from the places they’re stuck together, the swatches where they’re bruised and cut and bleeding, “I tried to run away, once. When I was seven.”

Billy hums, his cheek warm and sticky over Steve’s rib cage. “Did you hear what I said?” Steve asks, chuckling, “Not gonna fall asleep, are you?”

“Thought you wanted me to relax.”

“I do.”

“Well, I am,” Billy tells him, “Your pussy’s magic–”

“Don’t say pussy when I’m talking about running away from home, that’s gross.” Steve yelps, wiggling when Billy’s teeth close around his nipple and tug. “Ow, shithead, this is important–”

“What, mommy and daddy didn’t get you the yacht you asked for for christmas so you ran away from home for twenty minutes?” Billy snaps, but there’s no heat. No fire.

“Not exactly,” Steve shrugs, rustling Billy’s head back onto his chest. “My grandma had come to stay with us for a while. She was sick. Dying, actually, but I was too young to notice. She never looked sick, she was constant. Still cooked dinner for us. Still holy-rolled until I cleaned my room. She took care of me.”

Billy’s arm tightens around Steve’s waist. Subtle and constant, too.

“When she finally passed on, I just. Didn’t want to be with my parents anymore,” Steve swallows, nearly strangling himself on the lump in his throat, “Look. They never hurt me, Billy, not like–”

“--We don’t have to talk about this–”

“--I know I could never understand, but. When my grandma stayed with us I felt love. I wasn’t alone, anymore, she was my family. And after she was gone I couldn’t go back to the way shit had been before she came to us, you know? I couldn’t be alone in that empty fucking house anymore, I had to leave.”

“But you didn’t?” Bill asks.

Steve holds him tighter. “I didn’t.”

Billy twists, chin poking Steve in the ribs but it doesn’t matter, when their eyes meet. Steve pets over his forehead, his eyelashes, savoring the plush of his cupid's bow. Vibrant and alive. Free.

“Beautiful,” Steve says. A fact. A name, “I understand why you have to go.”

“I’m sorry,” Billy leans into Steve’s touch, seeking his warmth. “We all need to run away, sometimes.”

“I could come with you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Billy says. He starts crying, soft as summer rain. Maybe he already was. Steve rubs at his cheeks, trying to catch them before they fall. “You’ve become the thing I run to, but–”

“--You don’t have to ask. It’s not some fuckin’ sacrifice, if you leave there’s nothing left. I don’t want to go home if you’re not there.” Steve says, and then waits, patiently re-counting the 297 freckles he knows form a village on Billy’s nose.

Billy thinks it over. Finally, he frowns. “So in this situation I’m like your grandma?”

Steve blinks, a laugh startled out of him, “What?”

“You said,” BIlly grumbles, brow furrowing, “You said that when she–”

“--I don’t want to fuck my grandma, that’s–”

“--God, you’re so annoying,” Billy rolls onto his back, jostling the mattress until all their blankets slither, ending tucked around him so Steve will freeze to death.

It’s so achingly usual. So soft.

“Baby,” Steve props himself on one below, chuckling when Billy rolls onto his side. Away. Steve pokes Billy’s shoulder, rocking him, “Hey, you goddamn brat, I was just—”

“--I didn’t mean that you want to fuck your grandma, you psycho, I meant. Like. You said that when she wasn’t home you couldn’t go back.”

Steve’s hand rests on the blanket between them. He feels like a naked, sparking bunch of wire. Thinks maybe he said too much, or didn’t say enough, and now Billy’s imagining himself as a stout Italian woman in a clementine shrug.

“She would’ve liked you,” Steve says finally. Billy peeks over his shoulder, scowling. Steve giggles at him, “It’s true!”

“She wouldn’t be disgusted that I’m a cocksucker?”

“No. She was a muff eater, when she was in her twenties,” Steve says casually, laughing when Billy spins and sits bolt upright next to him.

“Are you serious?”

“As the heart attack that killed my papa, who she never really loved,” Steve rights himself, shuffling until their legs are nestled together, until he can kiss and suck on Billy’s pulse.

“Stop that,” Billy says thinly.

“No.”

“You can’t just say that your dead lesbian grandma would like me.”

Steve licks at Billy’s earlobe, tasting blood and isopropyl, and the hiss of metal shears. “Why not?”

“Because,” Billy sighs, fingernails digging into Steve’s right and left kneecaps, “Because then I’ll want to stay with you forever.”

Steve pulls back, confused, “You don’t want to stay with me forever now?”

“You’re an idiot–”

“--Who loves you.”

“Such a dumbass–”

“--Who’s gonna work two extra jobs to get you and your sister to California,” Steve says. Hands topping Billy’s like stubborn barley thistle. Rooting him in place. “I’m gonna do it and you don’t even have to ask.”

Billy shakes his head.

Steve holds on tighter. “I’m serious. I’m gonna give you the world, even if it means we stay here for a while, until we can save up the money. Until it’s not dark out anymore, right?”

A hundred emotions struggle on Billy’s face, each one fighting for dominance. Finally, “Until daybreak?”

Steve nods. “Daylight.”

#harringrove #harringrove relay race #angst with a happy ending #hurt and comfort #listen #this was going to be something else entirely and then i ran out of time lol #more to come on that story soon!

95 notes · View notes

astralaffairs · 1 year ago

Note

Don't mean to pressure you or anything but I really miss fotp and that last chap had me wanting to tear my heart open (TT)

If you're up for it, can I request for a short fluff abt mc and president t's marriage life? Or if you're still feeling villain-y, an angst will do! 😚

Hope you're having a fine dayyy, love all your works btw! 🫶🏻

astralaffairs villain era canceled. let me also refer u to late nights & speech writes for some president thom husband material

‐----------------

“And where the hell have you been?” Strong hands grabbed Y/N by the waist the minute she locked the door behind her, and she squealed, stumbling over the hem of her long dress as she was pulled into a strong body. Rough wool scratched her bare shoulders. “‘S late. A woman like you shouldn’t be out all on your own like this. Who knows what coulda happened.”

Her laugh was breathless as Thomas kissed her neck, his stubble harsh against her skin, and her hands came to cover his as his arms wrapped around her waist. “Oh, please. I don’t think I’ve left the White House in the last 72 hours; I’m not exactly looking for trouble.”

“So why’ve you been out all night, hm?” He nipped at her earlobe, but she rolled her eyes. “Who’ve you been with all this time, sugar?”

“That Russian ambassador who did not want to hear that I have an early morning tomorrow,” she said dryly. “This is the worst part about state dinners. All the old men in the room still talk to me like I’m their young prospect rather than a peer in government who’s here as my job.”

“They’re all goddamn relics; don’t let ‘em get to you,” Thomas said. “They’re dinosaurs, and they’re gonna be dead in a few months, anyway.”

“At this rate, they’ll also be running entire countries when they’re on life support,” Y/N grumbled, and his laugh was sardonic.

“‘N they’re still gonna be tryin’ to hit on you when they’re hauling oxygen tanks around here behind ‘em.” He turned her around in his arms, and her drained expression made him frown. Her eyes looked empty. “‘M sorry you don’t get the respect you deserve at these events, though, sweetheart. Wish there was something more I could do."

"I don't expect you to be able to end all sexism in government, believe me," she said, reaching up to loosen his tie. "Doesn't help that they all see you as the ultimate guy's guy, though. Thomas Jefferson, the good all-American trust-fund baby who loves steak and baseball."

"Maybe I'll eat some tofu 'n take up figure skating," he suggested mildly as she slid her hands under the collar of his blazer, pushing it down his shoulders. He withdrew his arms from her waist for just long enough to shake the jacket off, discarding it on the chair by his desk in the corner. "I've always thought there was a whole lotta power in embracing the traditionally feminine."

"Sure you have," she scoffed. He grinned, taking a step back toward their bed with her in his arms as she started undoing the knot in his tie. "You regularly smoke cigars with foreign heads of state to celebrate national alliances. You're the epitome of the boys club."

"Hey, I smoke the cigars with women holdin' office too," he defended. She slid his tie out from the collar of his shirt.

"You're truly a feminist icon." The words were ironic as she pulled his button down out from where he'd tucked it into the waist of his pants, walking him back toward their bed all the while, and he raised an eyebrow.

"You're talkin' a whole lotta mess for somebody who's trying to undress me."

"You're not putting up much of a fight." She raised an expectant eyebrow, looking him in the eye as she undid his belt buckle, and when he pulled her close, she slid her hands up his chest. She fiddled with the top button on his dress shirt as he guided both of them through the final few steps between him and the foot of their bed.

"'N you're awful lucky I'm not." As he sat on the edge of the mattress, she stood between his parted thighs as he pulled her dress up her legs. "You just came home from a long night of work, 'n all you wanna do is objectify me? 'M a whole lot more than just a hot body, Ms. L/N."

Despite his words, when the hem of her dress was high enough for him to slide his hands under it, he pulled her onto the bed with him, straddling his lap as his hands ran up her bare thighs. She cocked her head to one side.

"You mean 'Mrs. Jefferson'?" she asked, and he grinned.

"Yeah, but I like it a whole lot better when you say it." He pushed her dress up her body until her hands covered his to pull it over her head, and although she didn't seem particularly concerned with where it landed, she suddenly felt very exposed in just her lingerie on his lap. His eyes didn't stray from her face, however. He pulled her closer by her bare waist, and her arms hung loosely over his shoulders. The open ends of his belt poked at her inner thighs. "Reminds all those Russian diplomats you're off the market."

"I have a feeling Nebenzya isn't trying to steal me away," she said, but Thomas shrugged. "With the way he talks about you, he might be hoping we're looking for a third."

"Unfortunately for Vasily, he wouldn't be at the top of my list," Thomas said, and Y/N's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, you have a list, now?" she asked. He gave a lazy grin.

"Sugar, I've always had a list," he informed her, and she frowned. He kissed her downturned lips. "If we're working from the number one spot, though, we might have some trouble."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I've got a feeling John Adams wouldn't be too amenable to the idea," he said frankly, and Y/N's surprised laugh was closer to a scoff. "'N I don't feel like we know John Jay well enough as a couple, so that's not gonna fly, but inviting Lafayette just feels like it'd make things weird between all of us."

"Is your whole list made up of men?”

“‘Course.” His answer was immediate, but her skeptical gaze didn’t waver. He ran his hands down her thighs. “You already know you’re the only woman I got eyes for.”

“You’re so corny,” she said softly, running her hands down his shoulders to his upper chest. She picked at the buttons on his dress shirt. "Better tone it down before I get the wrong idea and fall in love with you."

"Now, we certainly can't have that."

"Especially not now. I'm too busy to take a lover, I'm afraid," she said, working down the buttons on his shirt to reveal his bare chest. "I'm just married to my work these days."

"'N you mean that literally, don't you, Madam First Lady?" He undid his cufflinks when she finished with his buttons, and he slid them into his pocket. However, he didn't take the shirt off despite her pushing its fabric down his shoulders. Rather, he took her hands in his, lacing his fingers into hers. "You're just a regular Mrs. America."

"You're really gonna stop me from taking your shirt off after you got me down to my underwear?"

"If I let you finish undressing me, it's gonna be a while before we get to sleep," he said, and she shrugged innocently. "We've gotta be up again in five hours. We both oughta get some rest."

"Being the first couple isn't nearly as sexy as I hoped it'd be." She sat back on her heels, resting her hands on his legs, and he gave her a tired smile. "Take the rest of your clothes off and come to bed, at least. I feel like I've hardly seen you all week."

"Right now, I'm all yours," he assured her. "Lemme get up 'n get some pajamas, though. Put on something other than a full suit for once."

"Just sleep without them," she countered, and he raised an eyebrow. "I like the feeling of your skin against mine. Just makes me feel more connected to you, I guess."

"You're adorable." He kissed her on the forehead, his smile endeared, and she could feel the heat rising to the tips of her ears as he leaned back to take his shirt off. After he did, though, he pulled her in closer, picking her up by her thighs as he stood, and she yelped, grabbing onto his shoulders. When he deposited her on his side of the bed, he undid his dress pants, taking them off before joining her on the mattress.

He crawled atop her where she lay on her back watching him, and as he dipped down to kiss her, one hand slid under her back, and she arched up against him. However, as he kissed down her neck, he unhooked her bra and leaned back to slide it down her arms. When he discarded it onto the floor, she was watching him with wide eyes, but he only kissed her forehead before rolling off of her and pulling the covers over them both. He reached over to turn off the lamp at his bedside.

"For what it's worth," he murmured as he wrapped an arm around her waist, and she rolled onto her side, letting him pull her into his body, "we've got plenty of time to sleep in on Saturday morning."

"Oh, yeah?" She rested her arm atop his, lacing her fingers into his.

"Mhm." He kissed the back of her shoulder. "So Friday night, you better not come home too tired."

"I'm gonna need all my energy for when I find you and Adams in our bed, huh?" When his hold on her tightened, his cold feet brushed against her shins, and she shivered.

"Not this time, sweetheart," he promised. "Once I get you alone, you better bet I'm not sharing you."

234 notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 2 years ago

Note

congrats on 2k followers friend!!!! well deserved and well earned via talent and hard work 🎉

I've been having a lot of perv!Eddie thoughts, especially since I read your diner post... But I specifically can't stop thinking about Reader/you and your good friend Eddie falling asleep during a movie night. He wakes up before you and sees that you've been exposed in some way during your shifting in the night (shorts rode up to show ass/crotch, shirt showing off a tit, etc). and this little perv, he sees it and all he can think is must bite, must mark, must squeeze. And Eddie is not great at impulse control, as we know.

anyway, love your work and can't wait to see what amazing things you have in store for us with your big, beautiful brain!!

MYOOOOOO MY LOVE 💚

I hope I did your req justice xoxoxo

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), m! masturbation, perv!Eddie, somno if you squint

WC: 1.1k

Eddie’s movie nights with you always had a good rhythm: eat popcorn, watch something that anyone else would give you two shit for (this week’s pick was Grease 2 and was surprisingly Eddie’s choice), and stay up late catching each other up about the week. You two hadn’t had as much time to spend together since you went to college, leaving Eddie stuck at Hawkins High for his third go-around at senior year, but Saturday nights were your time together. And Eddie had you all to himself.

Well, kind of.

In order to actually have you all to himself, he’d need to stop acting like a goddamn pussy (Jeff’s words, not his) and ask you out. It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it, but whenever he got close, he’d chicken out. He’d always get lost in your eyes, or focus too hard on your lips, and his brain would practically short-circuit. Instead, he tries to convince himself that it’s better this way; that he’d rather have you as a friend than not at all.

He tries when you star in all of his wet dreams.

He tries when he takes a shower and pictures soap suds sliding over the curve of your breasts.

He tries when all the women in his Playboys or in the Pay-Per-View movies he watches start to pale in comparison to you.

And he’s trying really, really hard right now, when he wakes up to see the movie’s credits rolling, and you still sound asleep, with the strap of your tank top sliding down your shoulder, leaving your chest exposed.

The morally sound thing to do would be to wake you up, or at least attempt to pull your strap back in place. Just bring it to where it should be; let his finger graze over your soft, warm skin. He can’t help but wonder what else is soft and warm.

“Shit,” he murmurs, wincing as his erection becomes all-too prominent under his gray sweatpants. He can’t risk you waking up and seeing him sporting a hard-on, especially once you realize that he got that way from your wardrobe malfunction.

He starts to get up to go to the bathroom to relieve himself, all-too grateful that Wayne is at work, but you shift in your sleep and rest your legs on top of his thighs. A tiny content sigh slips from your lips, and that’s all Eddie needs to take matters into his own hands. Literally.

The way his hand snakes into his plaid boxer shorts is almost instinctual. All he can think about is running his tongue over your nipples until they peak, grabbing the plush of your thighs as he pulls you closer to his lap, feeling your growing wetness as you grind against him. Begging for him to make you feel good.

Eddie uses the beading pre-cum at his tip to lubricate his stiff cock, feebly trying to get himself off without waking you. He watches carefully as your legs gently rock back and forth with each slight buck of his hips. Jesus, what he would give to have those legs resting on his shoulders while he disappears inside you, inch by inch…

“Eds?” you whisper, voice still groggy with sleep. “Was’ going on?”

He freezes on the spot, hand still on his dick. “N-Nothin’. Just, um, tryin’ to find the remote.”

“But you were saying my name,” you frown, turning over to better face him. It’s then that you see your exposed breast, making you giggle. “Were you trying to wake me up so I’d fix my shirt?”

Eddie flushes pink, unsure how to proceed. Does he pretend like he didn’t even notice? But how could he not; you’re right there. Does he flat-out lie and say that he was trying to get you to adjust your top? He certainly wasn’t going to tell you the truth–that he did, in fact, see your tits and he was, in fact, jerking off to them.

“I, um, no–didn’t see–”

“Too busy flogging your log to realize that my tits were out?” His gaze drops to where yours is–the crotch of his pants, where his fingers remain wrapped around his length. “Don’t be embarrassed,” you coo, pushing yourself up and sucking a bruise into his neck. “If I didn’t want you to see them, I would’ve worn a bra.” You climb onto his lap, taking his hand out of his own pants and bringing it down yours. His middle finger presses against your clit, and you release a moan of pleasure. “Touch me, Eddie. Feel how wet I am for you already.”

So wet, he thinks. Almost too wet…

Fuck.

Eddie wakes with a startle, groaning as he feels the mess pooling in his boxers. He’s going to have to start chugging coffee to stay awake during movie nights if he can’t keep himself under control.

He sits up, rubbing his eyes, but he can’t find you. Maybe you left. Oh, God, what if you woke up before him, saw him have a wet dream, and got so freaked out that you just bolted? How would he face you again?

“Oh, shit, you’re up,” you say from the bathroom doorway. There’s a guilty look on your face that Eddie just can’t place. “I guess we fell asleep.”

“Y-Yeah,” Eddie stammers, throwing a blanket over his lower half and forcing a laugh. “We’ll have to watch Michelle Pfeiffer dance around another time.”

“Is that what got you all worked up?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything…nothing wrong with a celebrity crush. Everyone, um, everyone has one,” you finish lamely.

Eddie clears his throat. “Who’s yours?”

“My celebrity crush?”

“Mhm.”

Now it’s your turn to feel a wave of embarrassment crash over you. And maybe it’s because you’re still kind of tired, and maybe it’s because he really was moaning your name in his sleep, but you say, “Just this local rockstar. You might have heard of him; he’s the lead singer and guitarist of a band called Corroded Coffin?”

Eddie swallows thickly, processing your confession. “You have a crush on me?” There’s no way; this must be another dream. He pinches the inside of his arm and feels a small sting of pain. No, this is real.

You nod. “Is…is that okay?” You look up at him through wide, wondering eyes.

“Fuck yeah, it’s okay. More than okay. I’ve wanted you since…forever, Sweetheart.”

You offer a sly smile as you take away the blanket to straddle his waist. You point to the wet spot on his crotch. “Think you can get it up again? For me?”

“For you? Of course.”

#requests #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things

500 notes · View notes