#because the obvious is having this man in my guts

[thedeviltohisangel]

For A Fortnight There We Were: What About Your Quiet Treason?

a/n: some more early days of ev/cal. featuring a little vacation for them with her friends, some miscommunication and some feelings being brought to light. also once again features evelyn's friendship with the tellers because i am obsessed with them and think the four of them could get into so much trouble together. as always, i continue to insert her into the modern day whenever something pops up but please feel free to send blurb requests for them as well! so much of their future and the angst i have kept a secret and i am so proud of myself. love you all!

She knew looking in her DMs or Twitter mentions was never going to end well. They were a sordid place of opinions and accusations and no matter how much positivity was sprinkled in, it was so hard to see. After pictures of her lounging on the deck of a yacht in the Amalfi Coast with a lanky man with brown curls kissing her neck were publicized a few days ago, she hadn’t been able to look away.

They were flooded with screenshots of Callum’s Raya profile, allegedly still active, and more private DMs of WhatsApp conversations that showed the cell phone number Evelyn had saved in her own contact for him. Her melancholia was threatening to swallow her whole as she curled up on her side on the boat’s salon.

“Hey! You were taking awhile so I-” Kelleigh paused as a barely repressed sob shook Evelyn’s shoulders. “Babe, oh no, what’s wrong? What happened?” Kelleigh dropped next to her on the couch and hugged her as best she could, her cheek resting on her arm.

“It’s easier if I just show you.” Ev sat up and handed Kelleigh her phone, her knees drawn into her chest as her friend’s eyes skimmed the screen.

“All this could be old, Ev. It might not mean anything.”

“The messages are dated from a few weeks ago while I was in Toronto.” The words of them seemed innocuous. Pleasantries and laughing emojis and memes. It was irrational but it felt like something special about their blossoming relationship was being taken away. Like him sending photos of Golo or his morning tea to these girls meant they meant as much or as little to him as Evelyn. “I’m so fucking stupid for falling for it.” Her forehead hit her kneecaps as she tried to hide her shame.

“We don’t know what exactly we are looking at yet,” her friend cooed, “this could all be one big misunderstanding.” 

“It’s my fault. I should have never let myself get attached. I should have known better to wait until everything with Logan was finalized.” The universe was punishing her for being happy. For falling in love with someone else while she was still married. 

“Cal is fucking crazy about you. Your heart and your gut know that and know how you feel.”

“He hasn’t even asked if we are exclusive. Doesn’t call me his girlfriend.” Kelleigh sighed and reached to grab Evelyn’s hand. She knew Callum was confused and conflicted. Last night, after their group dinner and hours of dancing, Evelyn and a few others tucked themselves into bed but Cal had stayed up for one last cigarette. Kelleigh had stayed up with him to pick the brain of the man one of her best friends was falling in love with.

“Evelyn is like a sister to me and Miles,” Kelleigh started, “I watched the way her marriage ate her away. And somehow her divorce feels even worse. If you aren’t going to be there for her for the long haul, you should go now before it’s too late.” It was obvious with the way Evelyn looked at him. The way she blushed and giggled at his every word and every touch. The way she had held his hand like a vice at the club and fed him bites of her dessert at dinner. All of the friends who knew her before Logan saw that version of her finally seeping back into her bones. Callum was most certainly the cause of it but if he was going to fly her high and leave her to crash to earth on her own, she needed to know now.

“I am living the happiest days of my life with her. Being with her like this makes me feel like I am exactly where I’m meant to be.” God, he straight up fucking loved her. But that was too complicated to introduce. “But I don’t know how to navigate shit with her and her ex.” None of it was normal, all of it was new. Were they dating? Were they supposed to start calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend?

“She’s just as confused as you, I promise. Do you want something real with her? Something with labels and commitment? Even if it means putting up with Logan and his bullshit?” Kelleigh felt like she was hyping up the man in front of her. Trying to spark that passion in his chest to fight for Evelyn tooth and nail the way she deserved. 

“I do. I want that. But not at the expense of her peace and stability.” Logan was incensed with every blurry photo or DailyMail tabloid story that came out about them and Ev took the brunt of it. If his presence in her life was adding fuel to that fire, maybe his departure was as necessary as it was tragic.

Kelleigh scoffed, “Just another fucking way he’s trying to control her.” Callum snuffed out his cigarette and moved to stand in front of her.

“You know her best. If I just straight up ask her to dive in with me, ask her to commit to this feeling between us and put a label on it and run off into the sunset with me, will she do it or am I just scaring her away?” 

She had told him that Evelyn would in a heartbeat. Wanted to tell him she thinks her friend really loved him. Was maybe getting some semblance of hope back for her future. But now, looking at the screenshots her friend was showing on her phone, maybe she shouldn’t have been so encouraging. 

“Ev? Evvie?” The deep, British voice belonging to the male in question reached their ears, Callum standing on the deck of the boat toweling off as he looked around for her. “Hey, there you are.” All their friends that had been splashing around the Mediterranean waters were climbing back onto the yacht to get ready for dinner. The last thing Evelyn wanted was to cause a scene or have her personal emotions on such public display. 

“Here I am.” She stood in the hopes she could run off in the name of getting ready to avoid him but he was over to her side in two steps and bending down to kiss her. Both her hands on his chest served to stop him but the way she turned her face so his lips barely kissed the side of her head served to freeze his heart. “Gonna go get changed for dinner.” Her back was to him in an instant and he stayed exactly where he was as she disappeared down the spiral staircase to the cabin they were sharing. The same cabin where they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms every night and woken each other up with kisses and caresses. The same cabin where he had made love to her over and over again with the softest and gentlest of touches. A tenderness only a lover could possess. 

“Did I miss something?” he heard the first whisper. 

“I thought they were good.” Went the second whisper. 

“If you could even call them a they,” was the final straw before he was following after her. He tried the doorknob to the room but it was locked and his heart started pounding in his chest. 

“Ev? Please let me in.” His forehead dropped to the door and he swears he heard the sounds of a sob. Her sob. The sobbing of the woman he loved. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please let me in so I can fix it.” Clearly he had upset her. Clearly something had happened in between waking up naked and twined together and playing with each other’s fingers and now, refusing his kisses and locking a door between them. Her feet padded closer and he stood up straighter. There was sniffling. She was definitely crying. 

“There’s nothing for you to fix, Callum. I expected too much from you. I’m used to being let down by my own expectations and I should have known better.” His brows furrowed together and panic began to set in. 

“No, you…you deserve the world, Evelyn. You’re right. I haven’t been doing my best in giving that to you. Haven’t been as open and honest with you as I should have.” She wanted to laugh. Of course even now he was saying the right thing. Promising her he would change if she would just give him another chance. Promising he could and would do better at being the partner she deserved in this life.

“You’re seeing other girls.” It was unfair and she knew it. Nothing between them was defined and she had only asked that he not sleep with anyone else if he was going to sleep with her. There had been no conversation about dating other girls. Evelyn had been afraid to make it so real.

“What?” He didn’t try to stop the incredulity from seeping into his voice. “What…Where…Who is saying that?” She finally opened the door and he was greeted with ruddy cheeks and damp eyes.

“All day I’ve been getting screenshots of you on dating apps and of conversations you’re having with them and I’m sick to my stomach thinking about it.” Evelyn felt used. Felt dirty. Felt like every accusation she had defended him against was for nothing. That maybe she should have heeded their warnings. 

“I didn’t delete the profile because it felt like signing you up for something you weren’t ready for. Like if I took this too seriously then I’d be pushing you away.” There was no use in lying about it. The profile was his but he hadn’t been using it. To be honest, he thought she’d be more freaked out by him deleting it because that would signal his view of their relationship as serious.. A conversation they hadn’t had yet and he was hesitant to bring up. “And yes. A couple of them I gave my number to. Texted and flirted and whatever else it is people are sending you. I’m not going to pretend it didn’t happen, Ev.” She turned and walked deeper into the cabin, Callum following and closing the door behind him for privacy. She landed in the chair of her vanity with a heavy sigh and looked at him like she could see his soul. 

“Are you sleeping with other girls?” His face contorted in disgust. 

“No. Absolutely not.” The one aspect of their relationship that they had defined. That under no circumstances would they have sex with someone else while they were having sex with each other. As if either of them had even looked at someone since their night in Chelsea months ago. He ran his hand through his hair with frustration. “Fuck, Evelyn, I’m trapped between wanting to dive head first into this thing with you and acting like it’s just some casual fun between friends.” He was at such a loss. Keep his options open so he looked like he didn’t care and could put the pieces together if she dropped him. Worship her on his knees until she offered him some kind of idea of the future. 

“Well,” her voice sounded hoarse to her own ears, “I’ve come to a decision about that this afternoon.” Callum braced himself for the impact. Figured she had been in here working on ways to let him down easy. Break his heart in two rather than millions. 

“You don’t got to say it, Ev. I’ll pack my bag while you’re at dinner. Be out of your hair before you get back.” The towel was tossed into the corner of the room with a hint of anger as he felt tears well behind his eyes. The woman he loved, slipping from his grasp. He had agonized over every word and action to try and prevent this from happening. Had accepted the complications that came from being with her while she was still legally married. Still going through her divorce in the public eye. Even though it was ending, it had all been worth it for these months they had shared together. He just wished it could have been forever. 

“That is the last thing I would ever want.” She stood and walked towards him, her forehead resting between his shoulder blades. “I never want to be without you, Callum, that’s what I decided this afternoon. That it all hurt so bad because of that fact.” Her arms wrapped around his torso and he tangled their fingers together, bringing the back of her hand to his lips. 

“I don’t ever want to be without you either,” he whispered. He twisted in her embrace so they were chest to chest. Her eyes captured his own, strong and sure in their conviction that she was doing the right thing. 

“I’m falling in love with you,” she revealed. “I need you to know I’m not scared. I’m ready for this to be a real relationship. I’m ready for the labels and the commitment. Ready to be with you in every way that I possibly can.” The thought of him being someone else’s, in any capacity, had scared her to her core. She had never felt so possessive over someone or something. Never felt like she owed it to herself to try so much. 

“Say that again,” he hummed against her lips. He urged her backwards until the back of her knees hit the bed.

“Which part?” she asked breathlessly as her back hit the mattress and he landed on top of her. 

“The part about falling in love with me,” kisses draped across her jawline, “or maybe how you are ready to commit to me,” down her throat, “actually, I also liked the part where you want to be with me in every way possible.” So badly did he want to lose himself in kisses along her chest and throat and all the inches of her skin that were exposed by her skimpy bathing suit. But this moment felt like he should look her in the eyes. Memorize how they looked back at him and held someone on the precipice of falling in love.

“I’m falling in love with you,” she smiled and traced her thumb along the lines of the smile that was spreading across his face. “I’m ready for commitment with you. I want to be with you in every way possible.” Callum laughed, a full throated and powerful laugh, ducking his face into the crook of her neck. Evelyn’s own pure happiness bubbled out of her in a laugh as she hooked her legs around him and held him against her tightly. 

“Am I supposed to call you my girlfriend now?” he asked as he lifted his head. 

“And you can be my boyfriend, just as if we are back in school.” His nose knocked against hers twice before his lips landed on hers. 

“I know it wasn’t easy for you to say those things, Ev. I want you to know they mean everything to me. Being with you means everything to me.” He knew that the road ahead of them wasn’t going to be easy either. That it was marred with traps hiding in the shadows, maybe some even in plain sight, but at the end of it was something so golden and pristine it would have to be worth it. 

“No more pretending,” she whispered. No more walking separately into a restaurant. No more distancing themselves at night clubs. No more solo trips to the grocery store or posting photos without him in it or hiding the evidence he had spent the night with her. 

“God, I’m going to kiss you so fucking much at dinner tonight.”

And he did.

And she felt loved.

She was.

[delphi-dreamin]

hi Delphi!! <3 what do you and Lucifer like to do to relax and unwind?

-@levi4thans

Hi Gray!! 💖💖 I'm so glad you stopped in!

Let's see...to relax and unwind...

First thing's first: Getting comfy. Especially if it's been a long ass day, first thing when we get home, I'm changing into comfy clothes and making Luci change too. That...may or may not mean undressing him myself. 😏

Once comfy, putting on some music in his office is a must. Maybe a glass or two of demonus for Luci? Tea for me, iced or hot depends on the day. But curling up in his lap with my tea and listening to music until dinner just makes all of the stress of the day melt away. Maybe we'll chat about the day, maybe we'll just chill, but either way this step is essential.

The rest is all conditional. Sometimes things.

Taking over the common room to curl up together on the couch and watch a movie (we take turns picking)

When my pain levels are a bit much, he'll draw a bath for us to get in together and he'll massage my joints and back.

I like dragging him into the planetarium to lay down with me and stargaze. He pretends he only does it because I force him to. He actually really enjoys it.

Preening his wings!!! Even if he doesn't necessarily need it, just combing through his feathers with my fingers, straightening and smoothing them, and massaging his flight muscles...It turns him to putty in my hands.

I swear to his Father, if this man gets a day off work, I will take him on a factory tour. Just the two of us. I'll put his brothers to work cleaning the house top to fucking bottom and we will bounce. Because I want him to get his factory tour, dammit.

And then, I mean...there's the obvious...😏😏

[dahllaz]

I've been thinking about the three bosses Liv has had since being in command and how...I really miss Dodds. I think he was the best, storyline/plot driving wise. Garland would maybe be the easiest to work for, but Dodds was more balanced I think, between being an antagonist to Liv and backing her play.

Kind of like Goldilocks story. Garland was too agreeable, McGrath is only antagonistic, but Dodds was just right.

But it also makes me think of one of my favorite scenes from SVU, which is the interrogation of Patton in Forgiving Rollins. I like it so much because it cemented who Dodds is for me (and Peter Gallagher and Kelli Giddish were just fucking amazing too) and even when I disagree with his stance and/or actions I never forgot what this scene showed me.

So we've mostly just seen the political aspect and the antagonistic to Liv side of Dodds up to this point. Even in the scene preceding, he's defending Patton and pointing out he's a cop and should get the benefit of the doubt. With Liv, of course, pointing out so is the victim.

But they are completely setting up that's he's just going to be all in on siding with Patton. The Good Ol' Boys club is strong and thriving etc etc. But they also give us a little hint. Because again, we've seen him being the political Chief before this, but here he also mentions that he was a Homicide detective. Quick little line about live victims being hard to deal with but it's setting up his bona fides as a cop.

And then we have the interrogation. And it's subtle, but Dodds goes from Politician to Cop. He may have walked into that room thinking he was with an equal but it's not long before he knows he's just looking at another perp. Patton knows it too, it's why he gets pissy and then shows his hand by verbally attacking Rollins. But I am convinced that Dodds knew he'd raped Taymor before Patton tried to shift blame.

And Peter Gallagher is fucking amazing because it's all so subtly acted. It's just. The Chief fell away to reveal the (good) cop underneath and I love it. And never forgot it.

[stromblessed]

Mizu, femininity, and fallen sparrows

In my last post about Mizu and Akemi, I feel like I came across as overly critical of Mizu given that Mizu is a woman who - in her own words - has to live as a man in order to go down the path of revenge.

If she is ever discovered to be female by the wrong person, she will not only be unable to complete her quest, but there's a good chance that she'll be arrested or killed.

So it makes complete sense for Mizu to distance herself as much as possible from any behavior that she feels like would make someone question her sex.

I felt so indignant toward Mizu on my first couple watchthroughs for this moment. Why couldn't Mizu bribe the woman and her child's way into the city too? If Mizu is presenting as a man, couldn't she claim to be the woman's escort?

However, this moment makes things pretty clear. Mizu knows all too well the plight of women in her society. She knows it so well that she cannot risk ever finding herself back in their position again. She helps in what little way she can - without drawing attention to herself.

Mizu is not a hero and she is not one to make of herself a martyr - she will not set herself on fire to keep others warm. There's room to argue that Mizu shouldn't prioritize her quest over people's lives, but given the collateral damage Mizu can live with in almost every episode of season 1, Mizu is simply not operating under that kind of morality at this point. ("You don't know what I've done to reach you," Mizu tells Fowler.)

And while I still feel like Mizu has an obvious and established blind spot when it comes to Akemi because of their differences in station, such that Mizu's judgment of Akemi and actions in episode 5 are the result of prejudice rather than the result of Mizu's caution, I also want to establish that Mizu is just as caged as Akemi is, despite her technically having more freedom while living as a man.

Mizu can hide her mixed race identity some of the time, and she can hide her sex almost all of the time, but being able to operate outside of her society's strict rules for women does not mean she cannot see their plight.

It does not mean she doesn't hurt for them.

Back to Mizu and collateral damage, remember that sparrow?

While Mizu is breaking into Boss Hamata's manse, she gets startled by a bird and kills it on reflex. She then cradles it in her hands - much more tenderly than we've seen Mizu treat almost anything up to this point in the season:

She then puts it in its nest, with its unhatched eggs. Almost like she's trying to make the death look natural. Or like an accident.

You see where I'm going with this.

When Mizu kills Kinuyo, Mizu lingers in the moment, holding the body tenderly:

And btw a lot of stuff about this show hit me hard, but this remains the biggest gut punch of them all for me, Mizu holding that poor girl's body close, GOD

When Mizu arranges the "scene of the crime," Kinuyo's body is delicate, birdlike. And Mizu is so shaken afterward that she gets sloppy. She's horrified at this kill to the point that she can't bring herself to take another innocent life - the boy who rats her out.

MIZU'S ONE MOMENT OF SOFTNESS AND MERCY, COMING ON THE HEELS OF HER NEEDING TO KILL A GIRL TO SPARE HER THE WORST FATE THAT THIS RIGID SOCIETY HAS TO OFFER WOMEN, AND TO SPARE A BROTHEL FULL OF INNOCENT WOMEN WHO ARE THE CASTOFFS OF SOCIETY, NEARLY RESULTS IN ALL OF THEIR DEATHS

No wonder Mizu is as stoic and cold as she is.

And no wonder Mizu has no patience for Akemi whatsoever right before the terrible reveal and the fight breaks out:

Speaking of Akemi - guess who else is compared to a bird!

The plumage is more colorful, a bit flashier. But a bird is a bird.

And, uh

Yeah.

I like to think that Mizu killing the sparrow is not only foreshadowing for what she must do to Kinuyo, but is also a representation of the choice she makes on Akemi's behalf. She decides to cage the bird because she believes the bird is "better off." Better off caged than... dead.

But because Mizu doesn't know Akemi or her situation, she of course doesn't realize that the bird is fated to die if it is caged and sent back home.

Mizu is clearly not happy, or pleased, or satisfied by allowing Akemi to be dragged back to her father:

But softness and mercy haven't gotten Mizu anywhere good, recently.

There is so much tragedy layered into Mizu's character, and it includes the things she has to witness and the choices she makes - or believes she has to make - involving women, when she herself can skirt around a lot of what her society throws at women. Although, I do believe that it comes at the cost of a part of Mizu's soul.

After all, I'm gonna be haunted for the rest of this show by Mizu's very first prayer in episode 1:

"LET" her die. Because as Ringo points out, she doesn't "know how" to die.

Kind of like another bird in this show:

[madelynraemunson]

pass the salt • e.m. smut

DAD’S BEST FRIEND!OLDER!EDDIE x FEM!READER

summary: you’re home from college and staying with your dad for the summer, spending as much time as you possibly can with him…and his hot best friend that you’ve never seen in your life.

authors note: okay have you guys ever seen those text posts like “when you say ‘daddy pass the salt please’ and your father and your man both reach for it” 💀💀 well this is inspired by that concept. also i went overboard and this is a LONG BOI

disclaimers — photo credits to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple 🫶🏼porn with plot, reader’s nickname is “sunshine”, reader has female anatomy, race unspecified, divider: @iluvpooks

NSFW — 18+ obv, porn with plot, daddy kink pls keep scrolling if it’s not ur thing, slight age gap (eddie is mid to late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), corruption kink, size kink, masturbation (m&f), p in v sex (protected), dirty talk, teasing, sexual innuendos, extreme flirting, eddie kinda being a perv, praise kink

The sound of breakfast on the griddle summons you downstairs.

Dad never cooks.

For as long as you can remember, weekends at your dad’s have always consisted of Lucky Charms cereal and powdered donuts. That tradition continued even after you started college.

Oh yeah. Someone is here, alright. Someone Dad desperately wants to impress.

Trailing after the commotion, your fuzzy pink slippers guide you down the wooden steps of your dad’s ‘bachelor pad’ and into the kitchen. And when you near the bottom of the steps, you can make out two distinct voices — one belonging to Dad, another belonging to someone who's identity is obscure.

“God, I fucking missed you, Jeff. Missed everyone so much.”

The smells of pancake batter, cigarette smoke, mint, and petroleum fuel reel you in, but not nearly as much as the sight of the man sitting on the opposite side of your dad. He's built, handsome with wavy brown hair, leather, black denim, twiddling a toothpick between his teeth as he listens to your dad speak with a smile on his face. That is, until you come into sight. It then that his intense focus circles in on you.

Funny. You don’t remember this friend. And something in your gut tells you that you won’t ever be forgetting him after this.

The stranger's grin curls into a wonder-filled smirk. You can feel your knees start to buckle.

“Uh oh. Looks like our shenanigans woke up Sleeping Beauty.”

When you get a closer look at Dad’s friend, you observe his faint brown beard — neatly kept and lightly peppered with some gray — delicious lips, shiny white teeth, and grooves along his laugh lines that would deepen with every theatrical cackle he belted out.

You can't help but freeze in your tracks as him and your dad continue on with their banter, reliving their glory days like it was yesterday. Man. What a damn dreamboat.

Your dad’s eyes light up with glee when he sees you.

“Hey, good morning, Sunshine!” Dad cheers. “Thought you’d never wake up. This is my friend Eddie. We were in that band together in high school. Come say hi.”

"Yeah, come say hi," Eddie agrees. feeding into the obvious tension in the room. "I don't bite."

The stranger laughs at his own comment as soon as he utters it.

There’s a charm — a magic — about Eddie that could only be found in Hollywood or the Big City. But of course, you didn't expect any less from Dad's supposed ‘Rockstar Friend’.

When your parents had you at 17, life went on for Dad’s band Corroded Coffin. And although he missed out on the ‘Sex, Drugs, and Rock&Roll’, Dad insists that tea parties and white picket fences were an ideal trade-off. Because — despite how things ended with Mom — it still meant a life spent with you.

You tell him your name as Eddie offers you his hand to shake. Electricity serges through you when your hand is enveloped by his firm, calloused one. Eddie smiles down at you, his presence all-consuming. It's almost as if he knows it. And as much as you were dying to, you resist the urge to fall into him.

Eddie's no better.

It takes everything in Eddie's power to keep his eyes above your collarbones, reprimanding himself with the utmost tedium. Because heaven knows he'd be TOAST if his best friend found out that Eddie thought that you were absolutely stunning — strutting around the house the way that you do, without a bra underneath that poor excuse of a sleep shirt — a sleep shirt far too tight for your own good. With tight, pajama shorts to match…

Of course, this is all an assumption…Not that he caught wind of it or anything.

“You know…” he mentions. “Your dad has told me SO much about little miss Sunshine.”

“Me, really?” is all you can say behind those fuscia cheeks.

“Really,” Eddie insists. “He never shuts up about you, darling.”

“Hopefully you’ve only heard good things,” you mutter faintly.

And instantly, your dad and Eddie share a laugh.

“Only good things,” Eddie assures you. He nudges your dad playfully.

Your dad doesn’t exactly deny the last part, basically confirming to Eddie that you’ve got a hint of spunk to you. The heat settles at your cheeks as you shy away from your father’s curious friend.

Taking note of how timid you’ve just become, Eddie furrows his brows.

“What — was that an implication that you’re not always good?”

“No comment,” your smile melts into an awkward one.

“Kept me on my toes back then,” your dad reflects with a sigh. “Keeps me on my toes now.”

“You don’t say…” Eddie smirks slightly, gaze panning back over to you.

Eventually your dad leaves you two alone, going into the garage to fetch something that he insists Eddie would like. But little did he know that such thing was already in the room, leaning…reaching into the fridge for some orange juice, not realizing its atmosphere caused your nipples to harden.

Eddie’s eyes proceed to follow you as you strut back to the griddle, flipping some hot cakes over before tending to your messy bedhead.

Eddie probably doesn’t know — or maybe he does, who knows? — that you feel him staring at you. It’s a burning gaze that practically impales you, but you’re too nervous to say anything. You’re better off pretending like it’s something you don’t notice.

You and Eddie continue to help yourselves to breakfast, enjoying the company of each other and your mutual silence. That is, until Eddie speaks up.

“Got some sausage for you if you’d like.”

“I’m sorry?” you sputter, looking up from your food.

Eddie shoots you a weird glance as he holds up some breakfast franks.

“Sausage?” he repeats. “Store was out of beef so I settled for turkey. Hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all,” you clear your throat. “I love turkey sausage.”

“Okay, good,” Eddie chuckles, seemingly relieved at how quickly the situation had diffused.

“Cool,” you chuckle with him while taking some links to cook.

The silence returns once more and is replaced by the sizzling of the grill. It’s short lived, however, because soon, the man nearly twice your age speaks again.

“What’d you think I said?” Eddie circles back.

“Nothing, why?”

“You just looked stunned.”

“I just woke up,” you shrug. “My mind’s somewhere else.”

“I can tell,” he smirks. “Get that thing out of the gutter.”

The coming days paved way for some more innocent flirting.

…Like when you make sure to wear the shortest skirt in your closet when running Eddie his afternoon beer in the garage.

“Well don’t you look absolutely darling…” he says as he peers up from his guitar.

“Hehe,” you smirk connivingly. “Thank you!”

“You are so welcome.”

Eddie downs the liquid guilt along with his pride, watching you strut around…the hem of that pleated cotton fabric just barely covering the roundness of your asscheeks. And as you blush a rosy pink when you process his little remarks, Eddie can only clear his throat in arousal, fantasizing about just how badly he wanted to turn your other cheeks that very shade.

…Or when you come downstairs the next day to help Dad manually wash his car.

While he and Eddie are harassing each other with soap and that god-forsaken hose, you decide to join in on all the fun.

“Watch out, Sunshine,” Eddie forewarns. “You’ve just entered the splash zone!”

And with the intention of cooling you off on a hot summer day like this, Eddie teasingly sprays you with said hose, your white shirt becoming transparent when lathered with water. He could see everything. Your erect nipples. Your perky tits bouncing in the sunlight as you jump around in excitement. How glazed your oil-nnuendo’ed skin looked when glimmering in the sun. All as intended.

“You got me,” you surrender yourself to him. “You got me good, Eddie.”

And when you walk away, Eddie mutters slyly to himself.

“Yes, yes I did.”

…And then there’s dessert after dinner.

Eddie watches as you lick your popsicle, his fingers curling at his thighs in arousal as you retract the wrapper before enclosing your lips around the bright pink dessert. And he swears he’s going to blow his pants when he envisions the melted sugar shooting into your mouth with the swiftest hollowing of your cheeks, the quiet suction noise you make with your pursed lips forcing him to adjust the way he’s sitting.

…The final instance takes the cake.

“What’s your major?”

You’re in the home library grazing some of Dad’s old books and vinyls, talking to Eddie while your father gets ready for the day. Meanwhile, Eddie is perched at your dad’s desk, rolling around in his expensive swivel chair and occasionally doing some spins on it to make you laugh.

“History.”

“Sounds boring.”

“You just haven’t found a topic that interests you,” you point out.

“Mm,” is all Eddie says. “Maybe I will eventually.”

Eddie watches as you waltz around in front of him, following your movements with his eyes as you get onto your tippy-toes in order to grab some books on the top shelf.

“Oh my god!” you yelp.

Your plan to entice him seemingly fails when you graze a book that’s halfway off the shelf. It’s already flying off of its platform, headed straight towards Eddie's lap before you can even stop it.

Eddie catches it before any damage can be done, saving Dad’s old campaign book with the hand furthest from you and snaking the other around your waist to prevent you from sinking any further into him.

Phew. Crisis averted.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” you gasp in embarrassment. “That book has a mind of its own.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie laughs. “Can’t defy the laws of gravity. Sometimes it betrays us.”

You feel yourself burning up a fever. Excusing yourself from the room, you leave Dad’s library and make your way over to the kitchen for a glass of water.

But you’re nearly taken aback when you feel tight, calloused hands wrap around your hips, and like a feather it’s like you’re whisked away into the air, and soon your body is pressed up against the wall.

Slam!

Breathing heavily against each other now — chest to chest, lips so unbearably close you can smell the whiskey — Eddie draws you even closer to him. You both study each other intently. It’s like you’re waiting for the other to say something. Eddie does the honors and speaks first.

“I wasn’t born last night, doll. I was also your age at one point.”

———

To his own despair, Eddie touches himself later that night. Facing your room, he strokes his rock hard cock with his lotioned-up hand, running his thumb across the slit of his head, pretending it’s your tongue giving him a little tease like you did the popsicle.

“Fuuuck,” he grunts quietly. “You like when I fuck your throat, baby? Gonna suck me dry with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

You’re playing make-believe just as much. Because at the same time, in your room, you’re a drooling, pathetic mess, riding your wall-mounted toy to oblivion in your bathroom, legs trembling when the thick, veiny piece of silicone slams into the spongy part of your heat, initiating shock-waves all across your body.

“Eddie,” you find yourself blubbering. “EddieEddieEddieEddie…”

You both know it can’t be like this, but that was the mere thrill of it all. And when you both have overcome your peak, just one mere wall apart, the floodgates of guilt outweighs both your arousals the way it comes pouring in.

So, so wrong. But oh, so right.

You’re anticipating…waiting…aching for Eddie to make the next move.

He doesn’t.

“Going to the store again,” Eddie announces. “Hopefully this time they’ll have beef sausage. Need anything?”

Need you, is what you think. But you end up shaking your head, a part of you disappointed that you and Eddie won’t be able to spend some time alone together.

“No,” there’s defeat in your voice.

“Are you sure?” Eddie questions softly.

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Okay,” he gives you a grin, one in the form of a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be right back. You be good.”

“Ha-ha,” you roll your eyes.

——

Eddie leaves the door of his room open that night. Just a smidge. You end up following the sound of his TV that he’s placed at a low volume, making out that it’s Seinfeld just by Jerry’s voice and the laugh track.

Your heart skips a beat as Eddie laughs along with the show, shaking his head at a stupid joke. But he shifts his focus immediately onto you when he sees you at the doorway.

“Having some alone time tonight?” you ask him.

“Mmm…not by choice,” he responds. “Tuckered your dad out after dinner doing P90X.”

Eddie follows a crazy workout routine. He says that it helps with his stamina, especially when he does crowd work during his stage performances. Your mind can’t help but wonder what else he may be using it for.

You snort. “Yeah. Dad wasn’t what you’d call an athlete in high school.”

Eddie laughs at that too. Both you and him know that.

He then pats the space on his bed beside him. “Wanna come watch with me?”

Your stomach does a series of cartwheels when you process Eddie’s question. You know what’s bound to happen if you follow through. And it seems Eddie knows it too. Even if there wasn’t any sexual tension between you both already, the concept of it all would rub anyone that way.

But you still follow through with it. Just like Eddie knew you would.

“You comfortable?” Eddie asks you, eyeing you endearingly as you squirm around on the bed.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good…” he replies, voice nearly at a strained whisper now.

You two watch the show in silence for a few minutes, exchanging commentary and pleasantries regarding the show every so often. It’s not too long after Eddie pulls a laugh from you that he starts closing up the space between you both, scooting himself closer…and resting his gruff palm over the base of your knee.

You inhale sharply as he does so. And evident by your refusal to pull away, it’s enough of a green light for Eddie to hike up further.

A soft moan escapes your mouth from the back of your flustered throat, but you bite your lip in restraint.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"For what?”

You shrug sheepishly as Eddie continues to graze your thigh. Your breathing falters even more.

“Don’t be scared,” Eddie coos.

“I’m not,” you insist.

“Then what’s stopping you from getting on top of me? Hm?”

He’s in between your legs now, the rough material of his denim jeans riding up your sex, teasing your clit with every calculated rub against it.

“And riding my rock hard cock til those pretty legs give out?” Eddie continues. “I see how you’ve been looking at me, doll. It's all over your face how bad you want it.”

“The bed is squeaky,” you answer honestly. “And that headboard is a lost cause.”

Eddie puts the dirty talk on pause, squirming around to assess the guest bed’s squeak factor. When it checks out, he gives you an understanding nod. You giggle.

Eddie wastes no more time. You watch as he grabs one of the pillows on the bed and wedges it between the wall and headboard. He issues you a sly smile.

“Oldest trick in the book.”

You're back to fooling around shortly after, your aching core burning with lust as you pine for him.

“The boys at school ever touch you this good?” Eddie quips rubbing circles around your puffy, needy folds as you hopelessly cling to him out of pleasure.

“No, Eddie.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He continues to tease, gliding his fingers along your slit before slowly inserting two large digits inside of you.

His calculated pumps into your needy pussy are steady, a pace so agonizingly beautiful that it makes you squeal sweet nothings into the crook of his neck.

"Shh, baby," Eddie hushes you. "Your dad's gonna hear us. Gotta be quiet for me, mkay?"

Your hot, messy, and muffled sounds cease as Eddie soothes your quivering lips with his tender ones.

The wet sounds that ricochet and fill the room in tandem is almost enough to send him over. And Eddie is sure to communicate that… with an abrupt curving of his three thick fingers.

Fuck.

Needing him direly now, you tug helplessly at his pants.

“God, Eddie,” you whimper. “Just fuck me already. Please.”

Eddie laughs at the desperation. He hasn’t ravaged you to his fullest extent yet, and you’re already a pooling mess beside him.

“Well since you said please, sweet girl,” Eddie obliges as he starts to undress himself. “Your wish is my command."

You watch Eddie as reaches over into the bedside drawer for a fresh box of condoms. Looks like the sausage links weren't the only things he went to the store for.

“Oh.”

Eddie chuckles at your observation before shrugging. Can you really blame him? You both knew what was coming.

You watch with absolute lust as Eddie slides the piece of rubber over his long, girthy, throbbing cock. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before, and the snarky, hooded-eye smile as he watches you fawn reveals to you that he knows exactly how to use it.

"On your stomach, babygirl. Will have you all nice and pounded out just like you wanted.”

You situate yourself in prone and spread your legs for Eddie to line himself up against them. He teases his wrapped cock against the entrance of your pussy, and when his soothing countdown is over, your lips part in disposition as you accommodate his ruinous stretch.

A throaty moan spills out of the both of you the moment Eddie snaps his hips in and out of you. Meanwhile, one of his hands lays tauntingly at your stomach, so the prideful man can feel himself wriggling inside you, glazing his shaft with your slick more and more with every pump into your weak cunt.

"Fuck, Eddie... yes..." you mewl. "R-right there, Eddie, please..."

And then it picks up. You can feel Eddie’s hips practically collapse right onto you, his balls slapping against you as he digs further into your body.

"God damn..." the man sighs in disbelief.

He can only beam down at you in awe. You were taking him so good, pussy swallowing him so nice and tight. And when you nestle your ankles between each other to keep him there in prone, the nearly cries out in pleasure, but refrains because he knows your dad is resting — just a thin wall over.

That still doesn’t stop him from going to town though. Practically seeing stars, the broken record of a mouth that belongs to you chants Eddie’s name like it’s all you know. Eddie attempts to keep you contained, offering you his fingers to suck on as he’s railing you dumb.

And when he fucks you through your climax, Eddie continues with his string of lust-filled praises, satisfied at himself that he was able to make you wet enough to soak the mattress.

“Did so good for me, angel,” he praises you as he sucks at your temple. “Always knew you weren’t all that innocent.”

The griddle comes out again on Eddie’s last day. But this time, for a homestyle southern dinner.

You and Eddie were on mashed potatoes and gravy duty at the stove, an ordeal that only opened doors for lots of innuendos on Eddie’s part. Meanwhile, Dad insisted on making the rest, having taken pride in continuing his Mama’s legacy.

“This is amazing, Daddy,” you rave. “I really missed this. Do you mind passing the salt, please?”

And to your horror, you watch as your father and Eddie automatically extend their arms, bumping into one another in the process en route to getting you the salt.

The gentlemen meet each other’s eyes.

“Ohp!” Eddie exclaims, letting out a slight chuckle. “Sorry.”

You try your hardest not to blush. Eddie kicks you from under the table, and softly he oh-so-seductively he mutters,

“I was just tryna help her out.”

[hoeforalbedo]

Dolly (Pt 2)

Human Alastor x Housewife!Reader

Pt 1, Finale

Tw: Murder, Forced Cannibalism, reader is described as a woman, dumbifying reader, mention of pregnancy, pregnancy.

Note: I guess I’m making this a series? I really want them to meet in hell. Also I really haven’t made it obvious bc I don’t want to erase Alastor being aroace. The way I see it, he’s kinda just toying with reader and grew obsessed once reader became a murderer.

———————————————————————

The morning after your delightful meal, you found yourself puking your guts out. The food did not agree with you at all. You wonder how Alastor’s body did not reject your food. Maybe it was all guilty’s conscience, but you’re not guilty for what you did.

Alastor holds your hair back, rubbing small circles on your back. “Oh my, what a way to start the morning. It makes me wonder if you’re perhaps pregnant.”

You shoot him a look, “Please do not say that, I beg of you.” No, you’re not pregnant, and Alastor knows you’re not pregnant. But if you are. . . That means you’re all to himself. You will have no choice but to depend on him even more. Even if you decided one day to leave him, you can’t. Nobody other man wants a tainted woman with children. Maybe one day he should get you pregnant.

Oh he absolutely knows that his dear wife has committed something awful and he’s proud of you, although he won’t admit it, yet. For now, he’s here to support you through the aftermath of your actions.

He could even recall his first kill, it was messy and uncoordinated, and the gore did not sit right with his stomach. But he hopes that his wife does not meddle in the business no longer. All you must do is sit pretty and be the doll you are. The sweet wife who cleans the house and cooks for him and cares for him dearly while being oblivious to the fact that your husband is out and about, killing many people.

But he’s curious. You might be just like him and the thought of that makes him want to grasp you in his hands tightly. To keep you all to himself and keep you away from anything that could take you away from him. At the same time, he wants to test you, push you further into insanity until there’s no more turning back and you’re addicted to the feeling of blood on your hands.

You’ve made a decision, you’re going to confess to Alastor. You can’t just keep him the dark about what you’ve done. “Alastor dear, so about Linda. . . I’ve. . .”

“No need to say more, ma cheri. I know.” He says, acting sympathetic towards you. He pulls you into a hug and you can’t help but burst into tears. He pats

“My dear, you’ve had such a bad morning so I believe you should go out and treat your pretty self with something,” He hums, combing your hair back.

“But-“

“I insist dear. Allow me to tend to the home and when you get back, you’ll be treated to a nice meal. How does that sound?”

Your lips pursed in thought. “Fine, but only because you insist.”

The phone rings.

“I’ll take that, mon cheri. Now I’ll allow you to get yourself all pretty and I’ll get you some money for you to spend.” He kisses your head and leaves you be.

———————————————————————

An outing is just what you needed, although it was not to relieve your nerves. You only felt guilt for having stained your hands with red. That matters not, anymore. Alastor says to relax and enjoy your outing and that is what you’d do.

Now that you’re out, Alastor prepares to go out. He puts his gloves, “I should prepare a freshly cooked meal for my dear wife. It’s about time I went hunting.” He hums to himself and leaves the house.

———————————————————————

The sound of chopping is heard through the kitchen. Chopped vegetables are put aside and Alastor is seen kneading a sort of meat. After he’s satisfied, he chops the meat and sets it aside.

“Let us see,” He says, squatting down to the body by the kitchen island. He reaches inside the abdomen, a squelch being heard as his hands move deeper. “Ah, there it is!” He says cheerfully as he cuts out the intestines.

After squeezing the contents out of the intestines, he looks up at the clock. “Oh dear me! It’s about time my dear Y/N comes home!”

It’s already 5 and he expects you to be home in about an hour.

He continues to grind away the other organs and meat before stuffing the intestines, making the sausages for the jambalaya.

After an hour has passed, you are back home. As you were about to reach for the handle, the door opened, revealing Alastor. “Welcome home ma cheri!” He greets you with a smile, pulling you in for a hug. You reciprocate and kisses his cheek. “What have you got there?” He asks, motioning to the bags.”

“Oh I’ve only bought a few dresses. Nothing out of the ordinary,” You shrug, putting the bags down.

“Then I should expect a show from you then, is that correct? Give me a little twirl in each dress?” His voice deepens as he tilts your head up to look at him.

“If that’s what my dear husband wants,” You say, almost as if you’re purring.

Alastor hums in approval and pulls your lips into a kiss. His arm around your waist, pulls you in, pressing your body against his. “Oh my pretty doll, you’ve got me all distracted.”

“And it is my fault?” She chuckles.

“Yes dear, it’s your fault for being so gorgeous, however I cannot complain about that. Come now, I’ve made jambalaya. Let us eat before it gets cold.”

You follow him immediately to the dining room. “How I love jambalaya. I’m grateful you’ve introduced me to one of your favorites.” You smile as you sat down. “You didn’t put shrimp?” You ask.

“I’ve decided to add some meat instead,” Alastor says, placing some food on your plate.

“Well anything you cook is delicious. I’ll enjoy every bite!” You beam.

The two of you continue to eat and chat. While doing the dishes, the door bell rings. “I wonder who that might be?” You say confused, not expecting any visitors.

Alastor goes to the front door and opens it with a smile. “Hello, how can I help you fine gentlemen?”

“We’re with the police, I’d just like to ask about your neighbors.” One of the officers say.

“Well of course!” Alastor remains to smile, however he is irritated, not that anyone notices.

“Who is it Alastor, dear?” You say, walking behind him. “Oh! Well hello officer!” You immediately put a bright smile. Alastor wraps an arm around your waist.

“Yes, you must be this fine gentleman’s wife. We’d just like to ask if you folks know anything about Mrs. Linda and perhaps Mr. Connor?” The officer asks.

“Connor? Well what could have possibly gone wrong?” Alastor says in confusion.

“Well officer, last night we got a call from dear Connor and just earlier before that, I believe during the afternoon, Linda paid me a small visit,” You answer.

“Is that so? Well ma’am, did she enter the home?”

“Yes she did. Just for a couple minutes though.”

“Anything in particular happened? Arguments, anything?” The officer pushes on.

“Oh of course not! Linda and I may only be acquaintances but I do not harbor such ill feelings for her.”

Alastor squeezes your waist, “You see, my dear wife is far too good for her own good. Far too oblivious to the world, but who can blame her. She’s a doll after all.”

You smile at the officers, looking very innocent.

“Why, I see why you married such a beautiful lady,” The officers chuckles. “Well did she say anything before she left?

“No sir. . . Well she did complain about how she suspects her husband of have a mistress,” You answer.

Alastor adds, “The couple do tend to have a tendency for infidelity. There’s neighborhood rumors of one of the kids not even being Connors’! It’s no surprise though. They say Linda sleeps with other men.”

You gasp, “You mean that man she was with that one day-!”

“Oh no need to worry your pretty little head about it. That is not our problem,” Alastor says.

“And the call you received from Mr. Connor?” The officer asks.

“Oh he just called to thank my dear wife for her generosity. She was kind enough to bake the family a pie. She’s a rather good cook,” Alastor answers with a smile.

“Well you see, both of the couples are missing and have left their kids unattended.”

“Oh that’s awful! Are they okay?” You ask with worry.

“They sure are. If you happen to hear anything about them, please do give a call, thanks for your time,” The officer nods and leaves.

After Alastor closes the door, you immediately broke into a sob. “They’re out to get me Alastor! They’ll get me!” You cling to him.

“My dear you won’t, I promise you they won’t. I’d do anything,” Alastor says in a hushed voice.

“I-I’m the last to have seen Linda and Connor! Now Connor is gone too! What if they think I am the one who killed him!” You cry hysterically.

“My dear, have you not seen yourself? No one would believe that a small thing like you could have possibly killed someone,” he reasons.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course dear.”

———————————————————————

“Must you really go, Alastor?” You plead, grabbing his hand.

“I’m afraid I cannot skip out on work today, mon cheri. But what if they get me? What if I can’t see you again?” You say with worry.

Alastor chuckles. Your clinginess used to be something that annoyed him but not finds adorable. “Remember what I said last night?”

You nod.

“So you’ll let me go right?”

You nod and let go of his hand.

“Good. Now I’ll be back later, my dear.” He kisses your forehead and walks out the door.

He in fact did not come home that night. He was found dead, a bullet to his head. You never landed on the suspect list, as Alastor was found to be the serial killer of New Orleans.

[peterparkersnose]

Alone with you.

pairing: Michael Gavey x f Felix's friend group!reader

word count: 5k

warnings: smut, fluff before smut, p in v, virginity loss, unsafe sex, mentions of pornography, lots of awkwardness, lowkey slut shaming, hookup themes, michael's hefty ego, 18+

a/n im actually posting? whaaaaat? today was a snow day, enjoy the snowy smut I wrote for my fav today ;)

summary Y/N watched Michael get rejected by Oliver in the bar and couldn't handle that sad look on his face.

masterlist

tik tok- @almondtarg4ryen

c.ai- @mj1218

read time: 18 mins 31 seconds

The mere look on this stranger’s face was enough to make Y/N’s gut roll. The sheer and utter disappointment of losing the company of… Oliver Quick? THE Oliver that had hung out with her group a few times, the Oliver that nobody wanted to sit with. She glared at Oliver as he sat down, his eyes were immediately fixated on none other than Felix. Y/N rolled her eyes as she looked at Oliver, but then her eyes flicked back up to the tall stranger. His face had faltered and his tiny wave was close to heartbreaking. Absolutely not.

Y/N stood, and Farleigh grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?” he asked, as he noticed your gaze on this mysterious stranger just moments ago. 

“Away.” She shrugged off Farleigh’s touch, Farleigh gave her a look of confusion as he noticed her sudden demeanor of change. Y/N grabbed her coat and purse, storming out of the bar. 

“The fuck is her problem?” Felix asked, noticing you leaving. Farleigh shrugged. “Fuckin’ tweaking over Gavey.”

Y/N ran out into the snow, it had definitely picked up since she and her friends had entered the bar nearly fifteen minutes ago. She saw the man walking, his shoulders slumped as his long lanky legs strode through the snow. “Hey!”

He didn’t turn around, as Michael would never expect a ‘hey’ to be for him. It wasn’t until she caught up to his side, that she caught his attention.

“Oy! Are you deaf?”

Michael stopped. He squinted in his fogged-up glasses, wiping them off just to make sure he had the sight in front of him correct. Y/N L/N? He quickly tried to compose himself, trying to make it obvious that he wasn’t just crying. As he wiped his glasses, he made a subtle wiping of tears that wasn’t as subtle as he would like it to be. He watched her face fall.

“Oh… no,” Y/N spoke softly, which was different from her tone just seconds ago when she tried to flag him down. “You don’t know me, but I’m Y/N.”

Of course Michael knew her. He psychoanalyzed almost everyone and everything in his surroundings, and she sat in the front of one of his boring gen-ed reading classes. He judged her on the first day he met her, as she sat next to Farleigh and they constantly snickered with each other during class. He had a distaste for the American, as Michael was convinced that his ego could have possibly been the only one bigger than his. Her sympathetic and sweet voice caught him off guard, Michael's face stiffened at first, but he soon realized that it was in his best interest to play dumb and not sound like a creep. 

“Oh, right. Y/N from Felix’s group. What do you want?” Michael said with a distaste for her presence. “For you to look at me.” Y/N replied as Michael’s eyes couldn’t meet hers on the snowy street. “And why should I do that?” he snapped at her a bit, she knew exactly how to deal with closed-off people like him. Something about this man intrigued her, she didn’t even know his name. 

“Because,” she smiled a bit, trying to guide herself into his line of sight. “Fuck ‘em.”

Michael was confused. What did she mean Fuck ‘em? Those were her friends, was this some sort of setup? A dare to go after the loser? “Excuse me?” he asked, his defenses keeping a stable tone. 

“Fuck. Them.” she said confidently. Her attitude intrigued her. “Aren't those your friends?”

Y/N shrugged. “Sort of. Definitely not Oliver though,” she cringed at the thought of the weird little man. “Please tell me you are not crying over Oliver fucking Quick, random man whose name I do not know. ” she rolled her eyes, her voice was sympathetic but yet sarcastic.

“No, I wasn’t. And my name’s Michael.”

“Yes you were, Michael.” she replied quickly. 

Michael sighed. He liked the way his name rolled off her tongue, it was definitely something he would be revisiting and replaying in his head during his nightly session alone this evening. He still didn’t like her. He didn’t have to like her to think she was hot, she was definitely wanking material. Even if she did seem like a stuck-up brat to him. 

“You know, if you’re just here to make me feel worse, could you just bug off and go back and tell your stupid little friends that you successfully made me feel worse and–”

She looked genuinely offended, it’s what made Michael’s sentence suddenly falter. “Is that really all you think I am? Some… some bimbo who just sticks around for a chance to make someone’s night more obviously worse than it already is?”

Michael was speechless. Did she truly have good intentions? He didn’t know what to say back, he was genuinely taken back by what she had said. “I don’t get it… why are you being nice to me?” Michael breathed out, his breath imitating smoke because it was so cold. “Because I hated that look on your face.” she replied bluntly. Michael then realized she wasn’t one to beat around the bush. Michael began to feel bad about his former thoughts about her, guilty for just seeing her as some idiot who would purposely hurt someone. But wasn’t she? To him, she seemed like a bitch. 

Michael stared at her with a puzzled expression, he couldn't imagine why anyone would feel sorry for him. Her sympathy is starting to make him uncomfortable. “Thanks?” he said with a questioning tone. “Oliver’s quite a weird bloke,” she said plainly. This made Michael chuckle. It was one of the things he originally liked about Oliver, is that he didn’t mind his weirdness and strange habits and quirks. If she didn’t like Oliver’s strange demeanor, his was much worse. Why was she sticking around? 

“He’s got some sort of weird man crush on Felix. Nobody can figure out if he wants to be him, fuck him, or both.” Y/N spoke like she knew exactly what she was talking about. Her confidence was uncanny. Michael was taken aback by her confidence and her statement. Was his friend, or former friend now, truly in love with Felix Catton? Wasn’t everybody? He certainly wasn’t, and from the tone of this girl, she didn’t appreciate at least his friend group very much. “Weird man crush? What do you mean? Are you trying to say that Oliver is... gay?” 

“He could be,” she shrugged, the snow began to let up. “No hate if he is. I just kind of assumed, I guess that’s not very correct but…” Y/N shrugged once again, trying not to sound too judgy or prejudiced. She truly wasn’t and didn’t want him getting the wrong impression of her. Michael makes a face expressing disbelief and surprise. “You're kidding me. Oliver...gay? Oliver can't even talk to other girls. Are you sure you're talking about the same Oliver?”

“That’s probably why he can’t talk to girls.” she pointed out. Michael was a genius, he should have put two and two together with his friend. Perhaps his intelligence didn’t correlate with his social skills. Y/N noticed this, knowing he was quite an awkward dude. With the liquid courage in her, she asked him one more question.

“May I?”

The snow fell around them as he furrowed his brows in confusion. “Uh… sure?” He didn’t expect her to grab his hand, suddenly running through the square and through campus. They both didn’t notice Felix’s whole group watching them through the window with the most confused faces ever and frankly, neither one of them cared to look back at that stupid pub. 

“Hey! Wait!” he yelled out, her little legs moved surprisingly fast for her height. She ran back towards campus, and within at least a minute or two Michael was huffing for air. “S-slow down!”

She stopped running but kept her hand in his. They were in the middle of the courtyard that was empty, the only disturbance in the fresh snow was their footprints. 

“Do you want to do something fun?” she asked, smiling as she looked up at him. Her smile, the dim lighting, how sweetly she spoke… Michael could nearly melt on the spot. He couldn’t help being amazed by your boldness. Felix's group is full of girls with the same vain and superficial personality, the opposite of you, but you seem pretty unique. “Fun? But what would we do? It's too late for the cinema, and it's probably going to keep snowing all night.” Michael wondered. “You just said it.” She replied, making Michael even more confused. He just said it?

“Do you mean play in the snow?” he asked her, looking down at her as the small periodic flakes moved about. 

Y/N needed a way to crack his awkward tone, get him comfortable with her, and save his night. It was hoped that she would make a new friend, but she wasn’t quite sure yet. She nodded, answering his question. He must think I’m nuts, she thought to herself. A sudden wave of embarrassment came over her, she was about to just apologize for the stupid suggestion when he spoke.

“O-okay.”

Her face lit up, she truly hadn’t played in the snow since she was a child. Even though she had just met him, she felt safe with him. He was creepy by all means, but something about him intrigued her, possibly attracted him to her. She took his hand and pulled him to the ground with him, she giggled as he looked unimpressed. “Really?” he said annoyed, but her smile was enough to excuse her childish behavior. She laid down and began to make a snow angel. Michael looked at her like she was some foreign specimen in a museum. What on earth is she doing? What if someone saw them?

“Come on Mikey!” she cheered, having the time of her life flailing her limbs in the snow. How she said Mikey nearly drove him crazy, her voice was one he could never forget even if they never saw each other again after today. Reluctantly, he laid down next to her in the snow and made a snow angel. Michael felt stupid for falling in the snow like a little kid, but the idea of making a snow angel with another person in the middle of the night was exciting to him. Your smile fills him with joy. He wasn’t as enthusiastic as her, but he gave in to her strange demand. Michael would never admit it, but he was secretly having the time of his life. 

Y/N stood after she finished her snow angel, Michael didn’t notice it at first until she pulled out her little camera and took a flash picture of her snow angel and him on the ground next to it. Michael stood up–why did she take a picture? “Delete that.”

“Make me,” she smirked, taking another sudden flash picture of his face as he sat up. “Do you usually take pictures of strangers or am I just lucky?” he asked, pursing his lips in annoyance and adding that sarcastic bit at the end. She didn’t notice his annoyance at all or just chose to ignore it. “You’re just lucky. And you’re not a stranger anymore.” Y/N snickered and began to walk off. Michael, of course, followed her. Her comment about no longer being a stranger to her made him smirk softly. The gall of this girl. Michael rolled his eyes and tried to snatch the camera away from her, but she was too quick to put it in her pocket. “Do you plan on taking a million pictures of me now? Because I'm starting to feel a little self-conscious.”

“Why? You’re a pretty man,” she spoke like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and he was an idiot for questioning it. That compliment took Michael completely off guard. He froze in his tracks and stared at you, his face immediately turning red and his mouth opened slightly. 

“What?” Y/N chuckled, expecting his reaction. Watching him squirm was just so much fun for her. “Wait... What did you say?” Michael questioned, his tone shaky due to his nerves and the cold. He thought now that he must have misheard her. 

“I said you’re a pretty man.” she replied, like he was stupid for not understanding her attraction to him. In reality, her confidence was just to hide the feelings of feeling a bit rejected. 

Michael stared at her in disbelief, he couldn’t believe the words she just said. Her sudden compliment makes him feel even more self-conscious, his cheeks red and his heart beating much faster. He can barely believe his ears. “You cannot be serious. I am not pretty. It's obvious that I'm not, I don't know why you're trying to make fun of me.”

“Make fun of you?” she asked seriously. “Never.”

Michael noticed her shiver, he still couldn’t get over that someone from Felix Catton’s friend group had called him pretty. This whole evening was a fever dream to him. “Never?” he asked.

“Never,” she confirmed. The two began to walk together around the cold campus in silence for a bit, until Michael spoke up. He was getting cold as well as she was. “So, what's next on our list of silly things to do?” he asked, feeling a bit of an ego boost from her words. “I’m getting cold. We could either stay here and build a snowman… or go back to my dorm?”

His eyes nearly popped out of his head.

“Y-your dorm? Is it close?” he asked. She nodded. “Mhm.” The way she hummed her lips as she spoke made Michael’s stomach flutter. Michael can't help but stare at her when she suddenly says that, the heat rises to his cheeks again, it feels so weird that he is on a snowy night alone with the girl from Felix's group and she asks you to go to her room. “Are... Are you serious? You really want to... To go to your room?” he asked, waiting for her to tell him that she was joking. But she never did. “I am fucking freezing my tits off. Please?” she whined. The mere mention of her tits made him gulp and somehow sweat in this cold weather. He was taken aback by her unexpected choice of words and replied politely. “Okay, yeah. I guess it is a little cold.” he chuckled, stating the obvious as it was well into the negatives. Y/N took Michael’s hand once again, like it was almost second nature, and showed him across campus this time. Michael was thankful she didn’t run this time, he still felt out of breath from that sudden jog earlier. Michael smiles at how impulsive she is, as he lets her take his hand and pull him across campus, the cold biting their faces and their breath rising as they walk through the streets. Although it seems a little weird to Michael to go with her to her room, he can't help but feel happy to have found Y/N on a night as terrible as this one has been up until now.

They reached her dorm. She unlocked it and opened the door, escaping the coldness. She went and flicked on a lamp as Michael entered the single-roomed dorm. Michael stares at her dorm once she switches on the lamp. The place looks cozy and elegant and Michael can't help but wonder what a pretty girl like you lives alone, away from her friends. Michael starts to ask a question, to be a little flirty with you, thinking you may be embarrassed. “So... Do you always bring guys home on such snowy nights? I think that you're supposed to wait for at least three days... You're not really making it easy for me here.” She took his coat. “Huh?” Michael can't help but be amused at the idea that you took his coat from his hands without asking, but he lets you take it and replies in a playful tone. “I was referring to our romantic moment here, you know, there's supposed to be a three-day rule before bringing a guy home. Otherwise, I'll think you're desperate.”

Y/N made a bit of a face at his egotistical words, Michael was borderline calling her a whore. She decided to mess with him a bit. “Who said this was a romantic moment?” Michael felt his heart skip a beat. He softly bit his bottom lip in embarrassment, leaning against the chair of her desk. “I–I… uhm…”

Y/N laughed, approaching him and draping his arms around his shoulders. “I’m fucking with you,” she said teasingly, looking up into his gaze. Michael felt himself immediately relax as he swallowed, letting out a deep breath followed by an awkward chuckle. Michael felt a sudden wave of heat spread to his body when she wrapped her arms around his neck. When she was so close like this, he could feel her body heat radiating off of her and felt the cold receding little by little. “You’re calling me desperate…?” she playfully accused him, cocking her head a bit. “Would you say you're desperate then?” he replied, trying to shake off his shock at her previous answer that rendered him awkward. Y/N chuckled. “Hun. Me? Desperate?” There was a pause. “Are you desperate?”

Her smirk was enough to melt him. Michael can't help but feel amused at her attitude. He leaned his face closer to hers as he replied, while his sudden hand on her waist drew her closer to him. “Desperate? Why would I be desperate? I'm the one here with the pretty girl in my arms.”

She hummed a bit, looking into his eyes with a soft smirk. “You think I’m pretty?” she asked, it felt like a joke to Michael when she asked that. She was one of the prettiest girls on campus in his opinion. Her face was so geometrically perfect in a mathematical sense that it made Michael wonder what her parents had to have looked like. She didn’t look like one who would mess around with plastic surgery, even at such a young age. Michael smirked as he leaned his face even closer to hers, with one hand now caressing her cheek and looking her right in the eyes directly. She can hardly breathe with your lips barely inches away from his.

“I think you’re fucking gorgeous,” he spoke seriously, his words bouncing off his lips and onto hers. Michael's smirk deepens as he leans even closer, just a few inches from her smooth lips, and his voice lowers. “May I?” he asked, reiterating her question from earlier in the evening when she asked for his hand to pull him away from the pub. She answered by kissing him, her lips touching his. She could tell he was a bit inexperienced, but he kept up with the pace nicely. It was almost like he was eager to learn. Michael instantly froze when she kissed him so softly, so perfectly. He suddenly felt that his heart was beating like crazy. He closed his eyes and kissed her, pulling her even closer, feeling both her body warmth and the kiss against his lips. She could see a little excitement in his eyes when he finally broke the kiss. 

“Have you ever done this before?” Y/N asked sweetly, not trying to embarrass him. She just wanted an honest answer, not to tease him. “Never. Not really. I never had such a pretty girl come into my life and kiss me like you did. Are you asking me if I'm experienced or not?”

Michael felt like he had won when he saw her true blush rise to her cheeks, they were no longer red from the cold. “I don’t mean to be rude but… are you?” she asked hesitantly, making sure to ask with utmost care and to sound as sincere as she could. Michael is surprised by her bluntness, but this is exactly why he likes her, her personality is completely opposite to Oliver's vapid friends. He's so impressed by her that he decides to be direct, he doesn't want to hide anything from you now. “Well, if you must know, I... I don't have a lot of experience with women. To be perfectly honest with you, no one has ever cared enough to kiss me until now.”

Y/N pouted her lip a bit in a sweet way, brushing a piece of hair behind his ear. “Awwe, Mikey.” 

Michael is so moved by the way she called him ‘Mikey’ and touched his hair. That made him completely lose his composure. He feels a surge of emotion as you look at him intently, and even without realizing it, his face gets very close to yours. His hands move on their own, caressing the beautiful face in front of him, and he can't help but whisper softly. “What you said…” Michael took a deep breath, feeling a bit embarrassed to admit this. “You're the first–first girl t-to care about me like that and to kiss me like that.”

Y/N smiled. She felt special to be his first kiss, even if she kind of expected him to be inexperienced. It was then that she decided he was it. She didn’t need her rich, egotistical friends. All she needed was her bratty boy who stood right in front of her. “I find that hard to believe since you’re such a pretty boy.” she smirked, again enjoying watching him squirm. Michael smiled softly and answered in a teasing tone. “Do you want this as much as I do?”

He felt himself using the joking spin on his tone to make it easy for her to back out, he hadn’t realized she was head over heels for him already. He wouldn’t for a very long time, in fact. The sheer thought that a girl as pretty as her would even look his way seemed like divine intervention. 

“Of course I do.” she smiled, kissing him again. This time though, he led her over to her bed, not breaking the kiss as she sat down on her bed. “You kinda know what you’re doing.” she tried to give him some props, to make him a bit more comfortable. Michael chuckled softly and his face blushed a little as she said that, he replied in a playful tone, but he couldn't hide the nervous tone in his voice. “Heh, it's just instinct. I think it would be hard not to know a little bit about this considering your beauty. It's hard to not keep my hands off you.” 

Again, he made her blush and he was in bliss. 

“Instinct or the internet?” she smirked, pushing him down on her bed. His eyes grew wide as she did, he felt his heart nearly burst out of his chest. Michael blushed again when she began to tease him into oblivion. The softness of the covers makes him feel extremely cozy and the warmth of her body feels like heaven. He looks at you and answers your teasing tone. “Okay, maybe I'm a little bit of a pervert and maybe I watched a few adult videos before... But it's also instinct.”

She chuckled at his formality, saying ‘adult videos’ instead of porn. She smirked as she replied, having now sat on his thighs. “That’s adorable.” Y/N began to pull at his shirt. Michael's face is completely red at this point, she can see how he is lost in his emotions and her touch feels so good that he is completely distracted. Y/N can see how he leans his body forward as you pull his shirt off with both hands, enjoying the warmth of his skin being touched. He closes his eyes and whispers softly. “I-If this is what it feels like to be with a gorgeous girl like you, then I wish it happened to me much earlier.”

The praise this boy was giving her was already making her wet. She didn’t know if he was doing it intentionally or not, but she loved being worshiped by him. She had never felt this from any other man, Michael was the first to truly feel like he was honored to be under her will. Y/N quickly threw off her shirt, leaving her in her favorite bra. Michael couldn’t believe he was going to see boobs in real life for the first time. He could not believe his situation right now, as she was the prettiest girl in Felix's group, he never imagined that you would pull him to your room in the middle of a snowy night, and much less that you would strip him right there on your bed. He had now seemingly lost his pants, leaving him in his boxers. When your hands move to pull his boxers off, Michael's breath catches in his throat and all he can do is look at you and admire that beautiful body of yours which is so close now.

“Wait,” he spoke quietly. “Let me just look.”

His hand moved to her waist, taking in her body like a goddess. Y/N turned red. 

“No, please don’t be embarrassed,” Michael spoke caringly, he felt terrible for making her turn red. “Y-you’re just the most perfect creature I’ve ever seen in my whole life.”

Y/N could have melted from his words. And in his praise she smiled, letting her bra fall from her chest and threw it on the floor. Michael’s hands moved to the bottom of her breast, not touching it yet. His thumb rested under it, wrapping the rest of his hand around the side of her chest and to her back. He softly moved his thumb back and forth on her chest, avoiding her breast. “Can I?” he asked respectfully. Y/N nodded, smiling at his innocence and how much he even respected her to ask if he could touch her. 

His hand touched her breast and he let out a little whimper. His glasses were completely fogged. “My god,” he said in awe, brushing his thumb against her nipple. She didn’t expect him to be this enthralled by her. For his good behavior, she leaned her bare chest on his, using it as a balance as she slid off her jeans, leaving her in only her panties. She felt Michael gulp. “Are you okay?”

Michael nodded fervently. “Yes, yes perfect.” he stuttered a bit, pushing his glasses up on his face. She kissed him, her hands moving to his tiny waist as she used her tongue for the first time to kiss him, he moaned into her lips. She pulled away and chuckled. “You’re fucking adorable,” she said, pulling his boxers down now. 

She sighed as she felt his cock move against her underwear, Michael nearly shot up in bed. She chuckled. “Is everything okay?”

His glasses now crooked, he could barely speak. She grinded a bit on his hard cock, eliciting a noise from him Michael didn’t even know he could make. He nodded.

“P-please…” he whimpered. Y/N didn’t know if she wanted to be straightforward or tease him a bit. He looked so needy, so desperate as one of his hands moved to her waist. “I’m begging you–”

She moved her panties to the side, letting the head of his cock move through her wet folds. He nearly busted a nut right then and there. He moaned like no other, almost like he was in pain. But it was quite the opposite. “Do you want it?” she asked him, appeasing herself and teasing him slightly. She sighed, rolling her head back as the tip of his cock swiped past her clit. 

“Yes! Yes! God, yes, more than anything, please.” he begged, trying his hardest not to move her hips and just push himself into her. She finally gave in to his demands, letting herself sink down onto his cock. He pushed his head back, barely breathing as she moved slowly on top of him, his breath caught as she began to ride him. “S-so good…”

She felt his cock push against her g-spot almost immediately, which was strange as she didn’t get a good look at it before. He was surprisingly large. She moaned as it made contact, pressing her hand down on his chest. “Ohhh, baby.” she spoke softly, leaning her head back. Michael’s gaze snapped back up to her, watching her ride his cock. He felt himself growing close already, as she had already been riding him for nearly a minute. He was in ultimate bliss, watching her bounce on his cock. 

“I can’t–!” Michael mumbled. He suddenly realized that he was going in raw, and he was about to cum.

“It’s okay, Mikey. It’s safe.” she could barely speak, as she would explain later that she was on birth control. As she called him ‘Mikey’ again, it was the final push. He grunted as he came, pulling her down on top of him as he did. She didn’t expect this aggressiveness, but understood his need for her. He buried his head in her shoulder as he moaned, pumping his cock into her slowly for a last few times, she felt him kiss her neck. “S’good,” she spoke, pretending to cum with him. Even though it was pleasurable for her, she didn’t cum as quickly as him. She didn’t want to ruin his ego, so she gave him the illusion of faking it. But she wasn’t worried. This wasn’t the last time this would ever happen, he had plenty of other times to make her cum. 

He slowly soaked in her, holding her body against his trembling one. Michael was in shock, not being able to believe what just happened. He had no clue his night would end up like this, and he wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Who knew Oliver Quick abandoning him at a pub was the best thing that ever happened to him? 

She slowly rolled off of him, squishing against the wall in their very limited space on the dormitory’s bed. Y/N chortled when she saw Michael’s face, his glasses were even more crooked and he looked like he had just seen god. “You alright?”

“More than alright, actually.” he spoke out, breathing heavily. She moved a blanket over the two, as the cold was seeping in from her window. She nuzzled up against his shoulder, whispering in his ear. “I’m glad I got this time alone with you.”

As she said that, Michael knew he had completely fallen for this girl and he would never let her go. How she cared for him, how she spoke, and just the whole events of that evening had made him want to start saving money for a ring.

[heich0e]

"what a surprise to see you here!"

you let out a long, weary sigh in the wake of the unduly jubilant exclamation, letting your bag hit the desk in front of you with a thump.

"i work here, gojo. just like you."

the aforementioned man steps into view around your shoulder, craning down into your face with that same easy grin he always wears—the one you find exhausting just to look at on days like today, because you know it means he plans on tormenting you for an extended period of time.

"and aren't we both so lucky to be here?" he hums, still smiling.

lucky?

you stand before him filthy and aching from the mission you'd just returned from, and with a night's worth of your students' assignments in hand you still need to grade by tomorrow morning. you're tired, and sore, and covered in curse guts and god only knows what else—and this smiling, obnoxious man hovering over you is calling you lucky.

you wish his blindfold was elasticated. if it was, you'd take hold of it, pull it back as far as you could, and let it snap it back over his eyes just to spite him.

"what do you want, gojo?" you don't even have the energy to sound annoyed anymore, the question leaving your lips in a lifeless monotone.

he pauses.

"you look terrible."

your head whips over to look at him again, and you immediately wince—a hand flying up to your neck. you think you must have strained it taking care of that last second grade curse. it hasn't been bothering you as much as the pain in your side, so you've mostly been ignoring it until now.

"gojo, if y—"

"gojo, gojo, gojo," he interrupts you before you can even manage to get the insult you'd been trying to say out. his tone is petulant, a little pout on his lips. "i've told you to call me satoru."

he enunciates each syllable of his name pointedly—like a reprimand.

"and why would I call you that?" you huff, tired of dealing with him. you grab your bag off the desktop, shove the stack of papers you'd come to your classroom to retrieve inside, and turn towards the door.

"because it's my name?" his tone lifts at the end like he's asking a question. "besides, you call sukuna by his name."

he's following along behind you. of course he's following behind you—you don't know why you expected to get away so easily.

"i call sukuna by his name because there's two itadoris now," you reply back, not that you owe him any kind of explanation. your steps are quick in spite of the stabbing pain in your side—literal, not figurative—but unfortunately it takes no effort at all for gojo to match your stride.

gojo groans a little. "how'd a guy that awful end up with such a cute little brother?" he whines, tipping his head back like he's lodging the complaint with a higher power. "my sweet yuuji and him have nothing in common beyond their family name."

you don't bother replying, stepping out from the main school building into the courtyard that leads towards the student dorms and teachers' residences. gojo is still close behind.

you find it ironic that gojo takes such issue with sukuna, a fellow sorcerer and jujutsu tech instructor, when there's no offence sukuna could be accused of that gojo himself is not equally guilty of committing. at least sukuna has the decency to not claim to be, well, decent.

there's something to be said for self-awareness.

"are you planning on following me the entire way home?" you ask him, irritation heavy in your voice.

"hey, i live there too, y'know," gojo counters.

barely, you can't help but think. gojo very rarely stays in his residence on campus. you're not sure where he spends all his time, whether it be a place off campus or even the gojo family compound, but you know it isn't here.

not that you particularly care.

"are geto and shoko busy tonight or something?" you ask again.

"suguru's away for a mission," gojo answers, seemingly not put off at all by the hostility in your tone. "shoko should be in her office, though."

you roll your eyes at his obvious evasion of your implication.

you freeze when you feel a hand touch your waist. the hand holding your bag goes limp at your side.

satoru is standing right behind you.

"your rib's broken."

it's quiet for a moment, but when you turn around, he's not smiling anymore and he's got his blindfold tugged down by one crooked finger. his eyes—the ones you so rarely see, the ones that make you feel equal parts awestruck and reviled—are on you.

"since shoko's in her office, you should go see her about it."

in one smooth motion, he covers his eyes again.

your teeth clench, your jaw tensing.

the next words you speak are barely audible through the barrier of your bite.

"what was that?" he asks, leaning forward in your space again.

you consider not repeating yourself, but all at once your resolve abandons you. you sigh, hanging your head and then you purse your lips in defeat.

"i c... i can't walk any further."

gojo laughs.

"i'm surprised you made it this far," he says, that bright smile of his back in place.

and so, a few minutes later, you find yourself with your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his waist as gojo carries you towards shoko's office in the infirmary.

"you're lucky i found you when i did, you know."

lucky. there he goes with that again.

you snort mirthlessly.

"and all you have to do to repay me is say 'thank you satoru!'" he exclaims, his voice rising an octave in what you can only assume is an offensive imitation of what you sound like to him.

"i'm not saying that," you mutter dourly, your grip on his neck tightening—though not enough to actually satisfy your desire to wring his neck.

"so stubborn," he tuts, but there's no real admonishment in his tone.

"i wouldn't call sukuna by his name if i didn't have to. but there's two itadoris, it just makes sense." you say after a while, the infirmary nearly in sight. you're grateful you're so close to relief, because the ache in your rib is so acute now that you're starting to feel lightheaded. you lean in closer to gojo's back as he carries you, letting him bear your weight a bit more. "there's only one gojo."

a breathy chuckle slips from his lips—so gentle it sounds almost involuntary. "only one gojo, huh?" he repeats your words, almost like he's mulling them over.

you hum affirmatively, letting your chin hook over his shoulder as he turns the final corner towards shoko's office. your eyes flutter closed. "yeah, lucky for me."

[papaya-twinks]

could you please write about lando trying to win back the reader after he messed up with some smut at the end 🫣

You Dumb Bitch - l.n

Warnings: Smut, 18+, angst, swearing, argument.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - I usually take requests on my side blog @itsnear-afish.

Lando Norris was a prick, and you’d never hated someone’s guts to the extent where you hated his. And you cursed every single memory and time you’d ever told him that you loved him and oh, how you wished you could take it back. You thought of him as a role model in the past, someone to look up to. Oh how very wrong you were. 

y/n

For the last time, Lando, I dumped you because you didn’t treat me how any decent human should be treated. You can’t message me and tell me to ‘come back home’ whenever you see me even remotely CLOSE to a guy. That’s not how it works. 

You groaned, sitting in the McLaren garage beside Oscar. This was the fourth time since your break up, which was two days ago, that Lando had frantically messaged you when you were talking to someone. “Lando again?” Oscar said, sympathy radiating from him. 

“Yeah,” you shrugged, sliding your phone towards him. He scrolled through, reading the message from his teammate with a soft frown on his face. “Y/N,” he said, looking up at you, “he really wants you back,”. You covered your face with your hands - he was right, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want Lando back ever so slightly. Your phone dinged, 

landinho 

Y/N, please, I know I treated you wrong, I know and I’m so so so sorry. I’ll treat you right, please, I’ll treat you better. 

You really should change his name. “Y/N, please,” Oscar said, practically pleading with you, “for my fucking sake, give him a chance,”. He was right. You knew he was right. But you couldn’t just reply and say ‘oh yes, of course, let’s forget everything’s that’s happened’. “Tell you what,” the Aussie spoke, “Lily and I have already invited Lando for lunch. What about you tag along? You could give him a chance. If you don’t like it, talk to Lily,”. 

So you settled on a simple summery dress, white, with matching platform heels. You tied half your hair up and finished the look off with a how. The cafe was small and somewhat empty, a few coupled sat here and there, talking animatedly. Oscar, Lando and Lily were already sat when you arrived, a half-desperate smile on Lando’s face as he tried to get your attention. “Hi,” Lily smiled, gesturing for you to sit. “Nice dress,” Lando said as you muttered a quick thanks. 

Lando was wearing a white shirt and pleated dress trousers, curls arranged messily, the same way you liked it. Rings adorned his fingers along with bracelets on each wrist. Oscar and Lily were talking vividly before they noticed you.

“Ah, I see you have added another one,” a throaty Italian accent came from behind you. You turned to see the waiter behind you, eyes scanning your body as you flushed, “a very pretty little thing too, no?”. You could sense the way Lando’s body tensed, it had only been two days since you broke up after all. Oscar sent his foot into Lando’s shin, he was clearly showing way too much disgust at the waiter. 

Lando’s jaw slacked as he adjusted the pendant hanging on his chest - four buttons open. “These two are together, yes?” he asked, directing the question to Lando. Absolutely not, it was obvious to anyone. And Lando didn’t fail to see the smirk on the waiter’s face. “No,” he said blandly, eyes blazing. “Ah, then forgive me for such a thing,” he turned to you, “but to ask for such a pretty girl’s number?”. 

Your cheeks heated up as your mouth opened, no words coming out. “She’ll do no such thing, thanks,” Lando rolled his eyes as the waiter smiled. “Oh, but she is single, is she not?”. He was right - you were a free agent. You hadn’t noticed Lando’s hand on your thigh, squeezing the flesh under his touch. “I’ll pass,” you nodded to the man as he clicked his tongue with dismay. The rest of dinner was spent with you and Lily talking, Oscar and Lando having their own conversation. 

You decided to head home, only to realise your taxi had been cancelled. “I’ll take you,” Lando said, lifting his keys from his pocket. “Give him a chance,” Oscar said, taking you aside as you sighed. “Fine,” you said, following Lando. “Why’d you say no to that guy?” Lando asked, shutting your door and starting up his impressive McLaren. “You made it pretty clear you didn’t want me to,” you shrugged. “And why listen to me, Y/N?” he asked, driving down the road, “I’m not your boyfriend,” his left hand was on your thigh, dangerously high. 

“Lando,” you gulped, eyes on his hand as he rode your dress up ever so slightly. “Pull up,” you said, eyes on his, almost pleading. Everything about him was hot. And you hated yourself for it, but you needed him oh so badly. “What?” he said, hearing you fully well. “Pull up, Lando,” you were practically begging him, your thong soaking. He hummed, sliding into an empty parking lot, the night time was your cover. 

“Need you, Lan,” you groaned, his lips immediately on your neck. “Now you do, hm?” he scoffed, “couldn’t even hold yourself together for one dinner?” he claws at your dress, hand cupping tits breast as you fumbled messily at his trousers. “Oh you’re pathetic,” he lifted you off of him, pushing them down, cock springing against his shirt. “Lando,” you whined hand pumping his length as you coated him with salvia. 

“Had your tits out for the whole world to see, didn’t you?” he squeezed on your chest as you placed yourself onto your knees, lips wrapping around his throbbing tip. His words were harsh, but his touch was ever so gentle, moving your hair out of your face. Reaching over your back, he lifted your dress, fingers toying at your clit from behind as your back arched, your moans muffled on his dick. 

You bobbed your head up and down slowly as he hummed, “aren’t you a dumb little bitch for leaving me?”. You nodded your head, the feeling sending Lando feral as he plunger his long fingers into you, a shriek against his thigh as he pulled you onto his lap, fingers still in you. “Ride my fingers, ‘s that what you gonna do?” he cackled, “Get yourself off on my fingers?” he swirled around, the feeling was heavenly. 

He pulled out, your whines oblivious to him as he opened nis door. “Lan,” you said, eyes wide, your hair messy and mouth wet. “It’s too dark for anyone to see us,” he shrugged, pressing your stomach against the hood of his car so your ass peeked out shamelessly. Your tits pressed onto his bodywork as he lined himself with you, pushing in as you stifled a moan. 

“Why the fuck did you even think of giving him your number?” he spat, his pace was merciless. “I didn’t, I didn’t,” you gasped, body shaking with each thrust. “Why? He was good looking,” he cooed in your ear, moving your hair away. “Why?” he demanded again, slamming into you as your mouth fell open. “Because I’m yours,” you moaned, eyes rolling. “That’s right, baby, you’re mine. My dumb little bitch with her pretty wet cunt,” he smirked, “all for me,”. 

“All for you, all of its yours,” you muttered, unable to form words. “Good,” he said, sending you over the edge as his jaw slackened, following after you, his hand jumping to your mouth to cover your gasps and shrieks. “Forget even telling the press we broke up,” he said, lifting you into his arms, your back against his chest, head lolling on his shoulder. “‘M yours,” you mumbled, absolutely cock drunk. Thanks to Oscar for convincing you. 

[mistywaves98]

Okay.... but like, consider merman/siren (Not the bird kind of siren.) Scara sinking our ship and eating our crew. But we're a woman disguised as a man because they used to not let women on ships. He only eats men so when he notices we're different he takes an interest in our body, mainly our boobs? I don't know- just a random thought I had while trying to concentrate during biology. Can be read as a drabble/brainrot or a request. Whichever you'd prefer to read it as<3

This is a very interesting concept ngl 😮 also this was not as great as I'd hoped it would come out..

✧･ﾟ:* ->Siren! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: (sort of) NSFW, Just him being entranced by your chest, Nipple sucking, Making out!

✧･ﾟ:* ->Smut written by a minor!

You had just begun to feel like everything was going according to plan until your ship was attacked and your crew disappearing beneath the water, only to resurface as mangled corpses. The water around you was a horrible mix of blood and guts as you clung desperately to a floating piece of board that passed by.

You couldn't see anything beneath you, it was just water that went deeper for miles. Suddenly, a webbed hand shot up behind you and covered your mouth. A shape emerged alongside it and you felt a firm, wet chest against your back. Another arm wrapped around your upper torso as a raspy voice whispered into your ear,"Looks like I missed one.."

You thought this was the end, and didn't even bother to struggle since you knew it was futile. This creature was going to turn you into one of the dismembered bodies that were still somewhere nearby. However, you didn't feel yourself pulled underwater. The hand on your chest suddenly moved, slowly tracing the curve of your breasts through your clothes. You couldn't help but feel embarrassed as the creature you assumed to be male straight up groped you.

Suddenly, you felt sharp nails dig into your shoulders as the webbed hands spun you around, giving you a clear view of your 'attacker'. Slit pupils bore holes into your chest as he studied you with a furrowed expression. There were fins in place of his ears and his indigo hair seemed to flow around him despite being dripping wet. His eyes then darted up to your face, his glare piercing you.

"You...you're not a man." He said in a flat tone. You slowly nodded your head,"You're right, I'm a woman... Aren't you going to eat me?" "Eat you? Don't be an idiot, I don't eat female humans," he scoffed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world,"...especially not such lovely specimens such as yourself..." his voice suddenly dropped an octave and a dark expression came over his face. He leaned in a bit, his nose almost touching yours,"You know that you're trespassing by sailing here, right? That's why I killed your crew as a punishment for disturbing my peace. But I won't kill you, though. I already have an idea of what I'll do to you..." His eyes flickered downwards for a split moment and you blushed in embarrassment as you caught onto his meaning,"O-Oh... Well I suppose I am in the wrong... Punish me as you see fit."

Your top was tugged open, even torn in some places due to the enthusiasm of his claws. His scaly tail curled around your lower body beneath the water to hold you still as he lowered his head down till it was level with those soft mounds now covered in droplets of water. Moans keened from your throat as he hungrily began to suck on your left nipple, pointy teeth grazing the already erect bud, eliciting a soft yelp from you.

Your hands weaved their way into the damp hair on the back of his head, tugging him closer,"Mmm...you're so eager, aren't you my little captain?" He teased with a smirk as he released your nipple with a pop and pulled back a bit. Your hands came down to grasp his shoulders as his hands moved up to toy with your breasts, squeezing and kneading them between his webbed hands. The sensation was strange yet pleasurable at the same time and it left you breathless and flushed in the face.

The siren seemed to notice how you seemed to writhe even more when he occasionally gave your nipples a light pinch,"These are so sensitive... Yet they taste delicious. I want to taste more of you." With that, he dove in and captured your lips in an intense kiss. His hands brought you closer, one holding the back of your head to ensure you didn't pull away. You moaned as you felt his tongue snake its way into your warm mouth. It was so sleek and long, practically choking you with how deep it reached, yet it felt so amazing, you didn't want to pull back.

However, the kiss inevitably ended when you needed to breathe. He licked his lips as he watched you catch your breath, appreciating the sight of your exposed chest heaving with every inhale,"Your mouth tasted even better than I imagined. I bet there's other places that would feel absolutely divine on my tongue...but for now I'm satisfied. But don't think that means I won't be coming back for you." He suddenly scoops you up in his arms and makes his way to the beach nearest to the mainland.

As expected of a siren, you arrive there in a matter of minutes. Once you get close enough, you decide to part ways and swim the rest of the way, but before you go he says,"The name's Scaramouche by the way. Remember it for our future encounters." After that final goodbye, he disappears beneath the water and you vaguely make out a dark shape heading back out to deeper waters. As you sit on the beach, attempting to cover up your torso so it looks somewhat decent, you can't help but think that you'll be venturing to that part of the ocean a bit more often now, but on purpose this time.

[aajjks]

The Devil Wears Glasses (m)

Synopsis. you were a bitch and he was your puppy.

Pairing: jungkook x Reader

Genre: bully au, mature. Fluff, angst.

warnings: sêxǔäl thèmès, YÂNDÈRÈ, dïrty thêmês, büllyïng, másôchïst kôôk, mâtürè thèmès, jèálôúsy, pôsèssïvènèss, pröfânïty.

note. OH MY GOD GUYS I JUST KNOW YOU’RE GOING TO LOVE HIM. HE’S SO UNPREDICTABLE AND THERE’S A HUGE SURPRISE SO LOOK OUT FOR THAT. ;) you can send asks for him, so let’s welcome a new jk into the multi.

You are such a bitch.

Oh you are the bitchiest person to ever grace this planet. How can you be so insensitive? You are heartless.

You deserve to burn in the deep flames of hell. Do you even have a heart? Were you even a human at this point? You could be a witch. Oh! Yes, that must be it, because...

You have got him tranced.

What does he even see in you? Jungkook is not sure, You are only a pretty face, with a hot smokin body, But that was about it.

He should hate your guts because he hates people like you.

Because you are a bully.

And he is a sweetheart. An innocent young man. While? You are the spawn of the devil. There you stand right in front of him, Jungkook fixes his glasses, feeling so nervous.

His heart is thumping, so loud.

“Puppy!” You call out to him, his eyes widen, you’re right in front of him and his mind is going blank. He stands tall over you, but you’re the one who is in control.

It’s so obvious and ironic.

You’re so pretty. And that cruel smile on your face, is making his pants grow tighter. Fuck, you’re not supposed to have this effect on him.

“P-Please don’t pity me.” He utteres in a small voice. You raised your eyebrow as your “friend” giggles.

“Oh, aren’t you a little masochist, puppy?” You coo at him, leaning in and whispering the words in his ears. He shudders, goosebumps on his neck. A sadistic laugh leaves your lips. Your eyes fall on his face.

Red as a tomato.

He seems to be lost as you trail your freshly manicured fingers on his rather hard chest. Your finger stops for a moment, can’t believe that you’re feeling his chest up.. right in front of your friend.

Yes, he works out.. it’s important.

Your touch feels so good- oh, someone help him.

He looks up in surprise, his doe eyes widen as he closes his eyes and whimpers quietly. “God.. this is all? A simple touch is all that’s needed to bring out the sick bastard in you?”

Your tone is mocking, cold.

He bites his lip, your words are crude but so true.

“You better complete the project, jungkook. Or else.” You spit in sarcasm, your eyes hardening, his heart flutters, He is pathetic.

He quickly nod. “y-yes I will, Y-Y-Y/N!!! I-I promise, p-please don’t get angry with m-me....” he pouts as you roll your eyes and leave him alone with your friend.

He watches with heart eyes as you walk towards the other direction of the school hallway with your minion.

God. You have such a bouncy ass, and such pretty legs. He blushes shamelessly, watching you move, his sudden lewd thoughts that surround his mind are making him feel a little embarrassed,

But you’re just so perfect.

You’ve got a perfect body, And a worth dying for laugh too?

Your laugh makes him weak in the knees. No, just a glance from you is all it takes to make him fall on his knees.

The way you walk, and the way that your hips sway make his mouth water. He stands still on his spot as his hand finds itself touching his chest, where you touched him.

He smiles, You touched him!!! Again! Was it the third time or fourth? He needed to know!!! He needed to write it down.

He needed to! But.. first, he needed to give you the already completed project. He smirks.

He turns to walk where you are now.

Slowly and cautiously.

...he feels like a really bad boy for lying to you... but as much as he deserves to be punished.. he can’t bring himself to give a fuck.

And also... if he didn’t lie then how would he get to see your pretty face and feel your touch? And listen to you cuss him.

God.. that turns him on so much.

Your pretty mouth saying such dirty words... he gulps quickly. His throat is getting dry.

But he adores it the most when you called him puppy.

That was so romantic!! It was such a lovely term of endearment. His heart flutters abnormally when you called him that.

He is your puppy. “gah, I love her so much.” He gushes to himself as he walkea slowly. “She’s so lovely.. I’m going crazy.” He breathes. Walking so carelessly, lost in his fantasies as he bumped into a person.

It was yunho.

His right hand man. Jungkooks face does a complete 180 change, now, jaw clenched and his eyes... hard. “Watch where you’re going, fucker. This was the First and last time. I’ll fucking shoot you next time.” He growls in a dangerously low tone.

Making sure that you can’t hear him.

Yunho eyes widen with fear. “I-I am so sorry Sir but... this was important..” he stutters. Looking down at the floor. The weight of jungkooks murderous eyes on him is making him regret every single decision in his life.

Jungkook looks around to see that the whole hall was finally empty. Everyone has gone to their classes, even you, he scoffs in annoyance.

This fucker is going to die.

“Spit.”

“W-We found him. The guy you asked for...”

Jungkook smirks. “Great.” at least now he will get to get his frustrations out on someone, he doesn’t exactly appreciate your stupid bitchy attitude, but- you manage to get him hard so.

Oh today is really a great day, Now he could finally be his real self. He’s getting tired of hiding to you, of course. It’s just been awhile since he got to kill someone.

He loves being always be your ever so loyal puppy, but now it’s about time he makes you his bitch.

But to the underworld. He was Jeon Jungkook.

The biggest fucking gang leader of South Korea.

Jungkook fixes his glasses once again, these glasses are fucking annoying- he needs to take them off- his eyesight is perfectly fine, but he looks cute in them like you said-

“where is my fucking homework?” He asks.

He only does your homework, and his people do his, sometimes he’s not sure what the fuck he’s doing.

he doesn’t even understand what he’s doing here because he doesn’t need to study. He just needs to take care of the business, but ever since you caught his eye when he was visiting this University, since his mother had insisted.

He wanted to be with you.

“I-I have it in my bag!”

“Fuck off now.” He growls, and Yunho doesn’t need to be told twice.

Oh, the things Jungkook does for you. It’s OK.. once he has you? You are going to find out about everything. Just a little bit more.

You were just the spawn of the devil. But he was the fucking devil himself.

[heyhihellosworld]

𝐇𝐦?

Lando Norris x reader

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: Smut

Notes: This was really fun to write but something completely different from what I usually do and probs not as rough as the request maybe sounded but hope it's fine! Thank you for the request! Also I have cero knowledge about frat-life or anything like it but I tried! I literally had to google the term frat :) I'm on a Lando stint rn apparently, third fic in a row so I hope you all like Lando :D

Request: Could you do super cocky frat Lando? Y/N dosen't like him cuz of his attiude. But after lots & lots of flirting, she starts giving in to his charms (and hotness). He's a bit narcissistic, so when he knows she's in the palm of his hand, he has her undress him, asking her how much she likes his muscles, and then he has her get on her knees and kiss him through his underwear, and then he pushes his c*ock down her throat until she has tears in her eyes, and he's smirking and boasting non-stop. Ahhh!

The first time you laid eyes on him was in art class.

He had been sitting up front, dangling his feet in the air whilst playing with his pen on the tree-desk. Something you found so incredibly annoying as the thumping sound never seemed to stop.

His face held a cocky little smirk and despite his obvious good looks which you couldn't deny you disliked him from first sight.

His brown curls dripped into his eyes and his well shaped face eased into a grin as he talked with his friend. Fuck he was pretty.

As time went you saw him more and more often. It was like everywhere you were, he was. You learned his name was Lando, the same age as you and you also learned that your gut feeling had been completely right. Because Lando was not for the weak, he was cocky, bratty, straight forward and thought he was a celebrity along the halls. Arrogant was what he was.

For some reason though he had set his sights on you, why? You had no idea but at every party, every break, every art class, he was there. Trying to flirt his ways into your bed. Maybe it was just the fact that you weren't falling for your knees for him, maybe it was the need to get what he wanted or it was just pure arrogance, but he never gave up.

He was used to getting who he wanted and you couldn't judge, you guessed he was pretty attractive and also pretty charming when he tried but still. He was Lando, the arrogant, cocky guy who was known for sleeping around and getting his way. It was not qualities you were looking for in a man, not even one to only sleep with.

Lando was persistent though, you had to give him that and regardless of how much you hated to admit it he got under your skin. His sweet words of praise, compliments and small not so innocent touches made your heart stutter and heat crawling up your skin.

For every day that went the more you realized how fucking good he looked. His eyes and face so innocent in a way but still so not in other ways.

His body, fuck his body was perfect. Eyes not able to ignore the way his arms flexed or the times he was wearing that stupid t-shirt that made his abs show through the thin fabric. You hated him on those days.

This was one of those days and as every other day so far Lando threw himself down in the seat next to you. Eyes raking your tired outfit for the day.

"How are you beutiful"

"Hello Lando, I'm good thank you" you answered casually. It was weird how this had almost started to become like a routine now, you got used to his company.

"No how are you? Pft Y/n! I thought you were raised well!" Lando spoke teasingly, fingers softly tickling your waist as your eyes rolled. "My deepest apologies Lando, how are you my prince?" "Ohoo here we go, that's better. I'm good thank you very much my princess"

Your eyes rolled again but you couldn't help the heat you felt spreading up your face as a giggle left your lips. Fuck.

"Are you gonna come to the party at friday?" he asked then, looking you straight into the eyes telling you this was an honest question. "Yeah I think so, why?"

"No no, no reason just wanted to ask so I know where to have my focus"

"Oh how charming you are" you huffed but Lando only shrugged "You know I'm popular baby" he spoke teasingly, smirking as you turned your focus away from him.

"You are so pretty baby" he hummed, the line making you grumble to him but you couldn't helpt but to feel the pet-name stirring something deep within you.

You didn't want him to affect you the way he did, you loathed him. Had always done. The way he snapped his fingers and got the things he wanted. The way he acted around, like he was the king of the world and everyone had to adjust and accept his ways. You loathed him, you told yourself, repeating all the reasons over and over to not forget them.

"Sure Lando" you murmured, gently pushing him away from you with an eyeroll. He only sniggered, that smirk that made your skin prickle making it's way onto his face.

"Is that so darling?" he chuckled, placing a hot hand on your hip. By the looks of it to walk past you but you knew it was only another way for him to show his dominance to you, show how much he actually affeccted you despite your tries to hide it.

"How long are you going to deny it hm?" he said lowly, his head bowing to reach your ear-level and it only made him grow cockier, feel more dominance.

"Deny what exactly? That you are a jerk? A jackass?"

Lando chuckled, finding your words more amusing than hurtful as he found your eyes. The colour in them shining with delight and competition.

"Deny that you somewhat find me attractive" he said lowly, watching your eyes blink shut, trying to shut out the hot feeling developing in your core. "I will stop denying it when you stop being such a jerk" you countered, a smirk making it's way to your lips as well as you felt the confidence surge back to you.

At that you left him, blinking sweetly at him before rounding him with an hot hand on his shoulder.

-

It wasn't even an hour until he was next to you again, his hand snaking it's way to your waist as he leaned in to talk directly in your ear. Something that made you all hot and bothered, it had no right to be so hot.

"Why are you acting so hard to get baby? I know you think i'm attractive"

"Attractive sure but I still find you a jackass"

"Hmm I don't think so sweetie"

"You think you know what I want better than I know myself?" you spoke softly looking at him with an innocent flutter of your eyes.

"I know you want me baby, you can't hide how flustered you get when I call you baby or how your eyes grow all wide when I say something dirty to you"

When you said nothing he continued talking again. Voice an octavle lower than before, his breath fanning the side of your face making it even hotter.

"I can't stop thinking about you baby, I don't know why but I can't. I want you, so bad"

Cheesy, the line was cheesy but you still felt the words make you crumble. Slowly but surely giving into him, because afterall, he was so hot.

Lando saw it to, the grin on his face only getting bigger as he continued, knowing that you would soon be eating out of his palm, just like he wanted but at this stage you didn't care. The man was a fucking flirt and he could flirt his ways into people's bed, yours included.

"Yeah? You like this baby, don't you? Picture your cute little mouth stretched around my cock, your sweet sounds as I make you feel good after I've come down your throat"

You felt heat pour into your stomach, all the way through your veins, building up slowly but steadily until it was all-consuming.

Fuck he was good

"You like that hm? I'm gonna have you so lost for me baby, sucking my cock like the good girl you are. Gonna have you undress me and ask for it, would you do that for me?"

You could practically feel the shit eating grin on his lips as you let out a small huff, dangerously close to a moan as you grumbled on your breath.

"Fuck Lando, how are you so good at this? Have you practiced this before?"

Lando laughed at that, his hand on your waist squeezing slightly harder as he hummed. "No, you are my motivation" "Oh gosh that's so cheesy but it still makes me fucking wet" you groaned in his ear, the words making him hum.

"Bet you taste fucking amazing" he mumbled and that was it, you crumbled.

"You gonna do as I say hm?"

You swallowed thickly, he knew all to well how he made you feel, feeding of of it but you couldn't deny it either, couldn't deny him. So you nodded, giving in to your pride for this moment and giving him the power he knew he had over you.

"What was that? Need your words baby"

"Yes" you almost whispered out, his smile big and cocky regardless.

"Yeah? Then undress me sweetie"

It took a moment for you to register his words but when you did you immideately reached for his shoulders. You gently squeezed his shoulders before letting your hands trail down his chest to the zipper of his hoodie.

"Come on baby, get on with it" he smirked, voice rougher than usual as his eyes pinned you down, gleaming with cockiness and victory.

You gently pulled his sweater off before letting your hands run under his white t-shirt. Feeling his muscles tense under your palms as you pulled it over his head.

He was so stunning you couldn't stop staring at him. Everything was just.. yum.

You stood infront of him, eyes fleeting over his toned torso, only feeding his ego and smirk.

"You like what you see hm?" he teased, gently grabbing your hands to settle on his muscular arms. Saliva gathered up in your mouth, swallowing thickly you let your hands slide down his arms and then up again. Your hands moved on instinct, coming up to his shoulders before sliding down his stomach.

"Tell me how much you like them huh? Tell me how much you like my muscles"

"So much, look so good Lan" you hummed, not being able to resist to let your hands wander over his body once more before settling them on his waistband.

"Go on, take them off" he nodded, watching you as your shaky fingers unbottoned the button of his jeans before helping him out of them.

Lando looked at you for a moment, seeming to think over his next move.

"Get on your knees baby"

You fell to your knees before you could even think it through properly, why? You couldn't answer that but all you knew was that for Lando, you wanted to do whatever he said, wanted to please him and his desires.

"Good, come on baby, kiss it" he prompted you, strong hands finding the back of your head and gently nudging your face to his boxer clad cock, straining hard inside the fabric.

You did what he asked, gently leaning forward to kiss him over the material. Your lips softly touching over the visable print of his hard dick, looking up at the Brit's face which looked taken over with lust and cockiness

"Look at you baby, doing everything I ask hm?"

"So gone for me already pretty girl?"

You could only hum, kissing up and down his dick once more before he hooked his fingers under the band, pulling his boxers down swiftly.

"Gonna let me fuck your little mouth princess?" You could no longer find your words, nodding desperately. All the various nicknames making you feel all dizzy and wetter then ever.

You leaned in kissing his dick again but this time without the fabric in the way, basking in the sound he let out before his hands tangled in your hair, not letting you ease into it at all but coaxing your mouth open with one hand before pressing his cock into your open mouth.

You did your best to stop your gagging, breathing through your nose as he set a brutal pace.

"You like that huh?" he smirked at you, not bothering letting you answer, looking into your eyes was answer enough. "Like having my cock down your throat hm?"

"Fuck y/n, taking it so good" he groaned, eyes never leaving yours, loving the way they were tearing up.

You tried your best to keep your mouth open without choking on his dick, marveling in the sounds he let slip past his throat but it was a struggle when he kept his relentless pace up, not letting you paus unless you tapped out.

You blinked through the tears trying to focus on your breathing but it became too hard, instinctively you tried to pull your head back but his grip was strong, keeping you seated until you tapped his thigh, depserate for some air.

He let you up immideately, watching you closely as you panted hard, trying to get your lungs filled with air, calming down your breathing slowly

"You okay baby?" he asked softly, his hand gently rubbing your cheek as you nodded "Yes yes, sorrry"

He shook his head firmly "don't apologise", at that you hummed, locking eyes with him, feeling your insides melt as his sweet eyes looked at you with such care and lust.

When you felt fine you leant forward again, licking a bold stripe from the base up to the tip, letting your tongue lap up the small droplets of pre-cum before opening your mouth, inviting him in once again.

"Fuck, look at you baby" he groaned "Like being used like this hm?"

You couldn't asnwer coherently, just gagged on his cock in response but he seemed to like it enough by the long groan he let out. His head had tipped back and his arms flexed as he held your head steadily.

"Fuck Y/n"

You tried to be at your best behaviour, Lando pulling that out of you. Swallowing around his dick, breathing through your nose and letting him use your mouth. Focusing on the salty taste on your tongue and the proper fucked out look on his face. Arms flexing, face twisting and abs clenching as he got closer and closer to his release.

Fuck he was a sight.

You felt his hips stutter as he fucked into your mouth a few more times before letting your head up.

You looked up at him softly, eyes swam over with tears and saliva dripping down your chin, gasping a few moutfull's of air before you sank down on his dick again, feling his dick twitch in your throat. Apparently he liked your fucked out look.

You had never ever enjoyed giving head as much as you did now, watching his mouth hang open and thighs shaking slightly. His hands came back to the back of your head, holding you deep as he came with a long groan.

He fucked up a few more times grunting words you couldn't understand, voice holding a tinge of despearation as he emptied all he had in your open mouth.

His eyes that had drooped closed open slowly watching your lips as he pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop.

Eyes almost hazing over as you swallowed, licking your lips as you blinked up innocently at him, he was just as effected by you as you were by him.

A wry smile made it's way up your face at the realization, looking at his fucked out face before speaking up in a sweet soft voice that made his softening cock want to harden again.

"As good as you imagined then baby?"

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR NINETEEN

in which everything changes.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, smut (p in v), almost shower sex, talk of male masturbation, oral (f receiving), upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 7.7k+

→ a/n: big shout out to @myosotisa for beta-reading this chapter so that for once, it's not unedited, and it's not just between me and god.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

19:00 ─────────────ㅇ── 24:00

DINGUS: so either these two are getting along REALLY well or they truly still hate each other’s guts

NANCE: Why do you say that?

DINGUS: when i called to make sure they weren’t dead, it sounded like they were arguing over the line. 

BIRDIE: woah woah woah, hold on. dingus. are you telling me you just SPIED on the lovebirds? or did this ‘fight’ happen during your conversation?

DINGUS: it wasn’t spying! eddie answered and rushed off the line, but it sounded like he forgot to hang up. i was just… curious.

NANCE: No, you were SPYING on them. 

ARGYLE 😎: what did they say, dude? 

BIRDIE: yeah let’s drop the morality bullshit – what’d you hear, my lovely oblivious spy? 

DINGUS: @BIRDIE NOT A SPY. 

DINGUS: but it just sounded like eddie asking her if she was, and i quote, “fucking kidding him”. He sounded weird when he was talking to me, too.

BIRDIE: the most romantic words to ever be spoken. truly. 

NANCE: Was that all you heard?

DINGUS: yeah, i hung up after that. why?

ARGYLE 😎: should’ve stayed on the line.

BIRDIE: what he said.

JOHNNY BOY: Do you people have no morals? 

HOUR NINETEEN – 10:00 AM

It becomes glaringly obvious to you that your comment had been a little too spot on after several minutes of waiting for Eddie to return. 

You hadn’t expected him to really leave you high and dry after that, to just go and take care of himself rather than include you in that process. Honestly, you thought the two of you were finally past hiding behind closed doors. But clearly, you had been wrong. Very, very wrong. And now, the consequences of your own actions were mocking you; there was an insistent, uncomfortable, unignorable burn in the pit of your stomach, and every shift of your thighs that had your underwear grazing your clit had you desperate, nearly mewling and arching your back. The longer you laid on that couch and realized what Eddie was currently doing, the more hot and bothered you grew. 

Fuck him. You’re about ten seconds away from taking care of your own problem right here, right now, on this god forsaken couch. 

Your ears perk involuntarily for any and all noises that may come from the hallway, but five minutes of silence tells you that Eddie had learned his lesson. He wasn’t going to be loud again. 

Fuck him. 

At least if he was falling apart by his own hand, he should have the decency to let you hear such, obviously. If he was going to finish what the two of you started alone with just him and his hand and the polished porcelain of his bathroom, you would have at least appreciated something to get you going, to urge your imagination to roam free through a conglomeration of both fantasies and memories. But, no – the man was so silent, you were beginning to fear he might be dead. 

Maybe he was dead. Death by blue balls. Good. Fuck him.

Your thighs squeeze together once more of their own free will, and you throw your head back violently to groan at the persistent throbbing. You couldn’t even be angry at him, not in a genuine sense, because you had insisted on talking rather than continuing whatever Deftones had started. What a dumb, idiotic, catastrophic decision. What a painful hill to die on. What a shit move on your part. 

It doesn’t take long before you make the choice to stop laying there, wallowing in your misery. If you weren’t going to take care of your problem, and if you were regretting your choices so desperately, you were an adult. He was down the hall, he was here for now, and there was nothing stopping you from just marching up to the door. This wasn’t anything like the beginning hours – the man had seen you bare before him far too many times for you to be shy. He had just been dry humping you like some teenager on his couch. 

No, you didn’t need to have shame right now. At least, not for these last five hours. 

You get up quick enough to make yourself dizzy, swinging your legs and making the soles of your feet connect with the living room floor with resounding slaps. A bit aggressive, and it might startle whoever had the displeasure of living below Eddie, but you don’t care. You have a one track mind, and you force your body into action before you can chicken out. 

You have him. At some wild capacity, the man behind the bathroom door is yours. Whether it be temporary, whether it had started before this night or would last beyond this experience, it was still a matter of fact. You have him – God, you have him so tightly that you don’t even doubt you’re the one on his mind right now as he does what you’re sure he’s doing behind this door – and it was time to accept that he has you. 

He has had you for a while, you realize a few steps away from the bathroom. The moment he had you laughing at his side in some smokey bar all those moons ago, he had first caught you in his web. You hate that it took this long, that it took this moment that should be laced with embarrassment, to let it all settle into acceptance. Like rubble of a destroyed building, the dust is clearing and all you can see is him. Him, with his stupid fucking dimples. Him, with his wide shoulders. Him, with all his twisted words and confusing actions. He’s had you in his grasp – it’s the only way anyone would have been able to get under your skin like he has this past year. 

“Eddie?” you call out as you rap your knuckles on that wooden door, a few too many times for good measure. Your ears strain now that you’re closer, thinking you might catch subtle sounds out of him. Heavy breaths, slick skin, mute whimpers. Anything.

You get nothing for a solid ten seconds.

And then, you hear him clearing his throat, obnoxiously so, before answering, “Y-Yeah?” 

Unsure. He’s stuttering, and the footing of his words is unstable. You were fucking right. 

“Are you…” you start, pinching your eyes shut, shooing away that internal wave of heat as your mind runs wild and imagines him behind the door. The way he’d be naked, the way his fist would curl around the base of his cock, the way his tip has never failed to be the exact same shade of pink as his lips- “Are you still alive in there?” 

Because I’m certainly not out here. 

“Oh, me?” he chuckles nervously, “Yeah, I-I’m good. Sorry, just got distracted!” 

By what? you nearly call in response, your dick in your hands? 

You don’t say it outloud. You have some restraint. 

“That’s fine…” you trail off, unsure of what exactly you should say all while biting your tongue. 

Your mind is still reeling for a possible ending for that thought when Eddie calls out, “I’m gonna take a shower, ‘s all. You cool with that?” 

No. No, I’m not fucking cool with that. 

“Oh!” you squeak out instead, “Yeah, yeah. That’s… that’s fine. Sorry, I’ll just…”

You trail off again as you begin to take a few steps back from the door, making your way back to the living room painstakingly slowly. You’ve hardly moved an inch when you hear the shower turn on inside the bathroom, stuttering a few times as the water begins its flow, static rising from the way it splatters into the tub. 

And then it turns off. Mere seconds later, as quickly as the flow of water had begun, the creaking in the pipes cease. You take another step back until your back bumps into the wall of the hallway, across and veered away from the bathroom door – the throbbing between your thighs still irritating and your confusion even more palpable. 

Wasn’t he going to take a shower? Did he just turn it on to get you to walk away? Were you hallucinating just how quickly the seconds were passin-

The bathroom door is suddenly thrown open with Eddie in the middle of calling out your name, those pajama pants hanging dangerously low on his hips. The moment his eyes land on your, his beckoning for you dies in his throat before he has to clear it. “Oh. Uh, hey.” 

Why were you both being so fucking awkward? 

“Hi,” you breathe out, pressing further into the wall. You felt like a child being caught doing wrong, as if he hadn’t been aware of your proximity to the door just moments before. 

Maybe he was going to find it creepy that you had lingered for so long, and were still so close. You don’t know – you can’t think clearly as you look at the bare skin of his chest and try to decipher whether the moisture gathered there is sweat or condensation from the steam of the shower. 

“Sorry, I just-” he cuts himself off this time before a hand reaches up to his hair, now down and unfurled around his shoulders. His palm presses back his bangs and you can see the moment that all the tension of awkwardness finally snaps, “Oh, fuck this. Do you want to shower with me?” 

Once it snaps for him, you feel your own clinging to it release. It slips from between your fingers slowly, and you come to the realization that there’s no heat emitting from the bathroom behind him – that moisture wasn’t from steam, he didn’t even have the water on long enough for it to get that hot. You should have realized that immediately, but your mind was working slowly through the fog. 

“You don’t have to,” you hadn’t answered him fast enough, and you’re watching him backpedal right before your eyes. 

A quick shake of your head and the smile that splits your lips stops all of his backwards movements, makes his head tilt to the side and a smirk graces his features when you finally reply, “I thought you’d never ask.” 

He shifts to the side of the doorway naturally, leaving just enough room for you to brush past him and let your shoulder knock slightly against his chest once you push off the wall eagerly. 

There’s still a puddle of water at the base of the tub, circling the drain as Eddie closes the door behind your entrance. It’s a bit redundant considering you’re the only two here, but you don’t say a word. You just let your eyes trace over the droplets of water racing down his shower curtain, properly focus in on his toothbrush on the sink and the tube of toothpaste beside it curled up over half the length. 

It hits you all at once, how this game of tension is so ridiculous. “We’re so stupid.”

Eddie is shocked by your snort, “Excuse me?” 

“We’re stupid,” you repeat yourself, “Why are we acting like middle schoolers who just held hands? You’ve seen me naked, for fucks sake. We’ve-” you cut off and turn to him abruptly, waving your hands wildly in the space between you two, “We’ve already crossed this line a million times, Eddie. And we just… it’s like, we keep putting one foot on the other side of it, dip our toes into it, and then take it back when it’s all said and done.” 

A boring dance. The two of you were taking part in the most boring dance of tension the world had ever seen, and only the four walls of Eddie’s apartment had the pleasure of being audience to it. 

You expect his laughter to come out in a bark, but it’s subtle instead, face relaxing in realization at what you mean, “Jesus. I- I mean, you’re right. But does that make us stupid? I think it’s kinda cute, personally.”

“Cute?” you lurch forward ever so slightly, grinning with your teeth. Eddie’s eyes squint up a bit from how widely he grins in return at your amusement, “What about this is cute?” 

“The way you keep getting so nervous around me,” Eddie shrugs, killing off the distance between you as he moves in front of you. You straighten up quickly, and he’s fast to tuck the loose strands of your hair behind your ear, “The way I keep getting so nervous around you.” 

“That’s not cute, that’s just… stupid.” 

“Same thing.”

“It definitely isn’t.” 

You’re close enough to kiss him. And you realize easily that this may be your favorite place in the world, toe-to-toe with him and nearly brushing noses, feeling each breath like a huff of wind on the highs of your cheekbones. 

“Agree to disagree,” he whispers before his lips duck down to yours. The hand that had tucked away your strands of hair had never left your face, you realize, palm now cupping your cheek as he tugs you closer to him. 

Warmth spreads across your chest, brings spring to all the vines you’ve been catering to for a year now. Being able to step back and call this for what it was, ridiculous, makes it all a bit easier to bear. 

It’s just his lips against yours, the shower not even running yet, the gasps that emit from both of you serving as a white noise instead. 

“Is this,” he breaks away from you, only pulling back his lips and leaving his forehead resting against yours with his hand still curled on your cheek, “still stupid?” 

“Even more so,” you nod and he moves his head with yours, almost making you laugh more, “So, so stupid.”

More kisses are exchanged, wandering hands trying to find new curves on the other’s body, before Eddie goes through the motions of turning his shower back on. You notice that from the looks of it, he does turn it on as hot as it can get. It occurs to you that these are small details you’d like to know – how hot he prefers his showers, whether he prefers to take them in the morning or at night, what scent of body wash he swears by – and that you only had so much time to learn the answer to not even half of your curiosities. 

Time. Time was not on your side. 

“You know,” you drawl as Eddie finally kicks off his pants, you soon following his lead as if this was nothing. Because it wasn’t. The two of you had been naked before each other. You weren’t two middle schoolers who had just shared a first kiss or held hands – you were two adults who had had sex, who had admitted to being attracted to each other if nothing more, “You never did say what you’re actually doing with the money.” 

“Again with that conversation?” Eddie asks, pausing with his thumbs hooked in the band of his boxers. 

“Again,” you affirm, tossing your shirt into the same corner that his pants had been discarded, “Can you blame me for being curious? Aren’t you curious what I’m doing with my money?” 

He thinks for a second as you strip off your underwear, leaving you completely naked first. “I mean, I sort of am.”

“College,” you supply easily. You don’t even wait for him to properly ask. He purses his lips and you catch the way his eyes sweep over your nude body quickly before he yanks off his last article of clothing, “College, and then all my debt. Then maybe I can start saving like a real adult. Move to some fancy city once I graduate. Make a…” you pause and make a conscious effort to not let your eyes wander as his had, “Make a real life for myself, I guess.”

“You sound so excited.” 

He’s being sarcastic, you know it, but it begs the question – were you excited about the prospective? All you had ever known was school. Your entire personality has been built thus far on being a student.

So what comes next? Settling into some boring nine to five job that hardly satisfies the dreams that were born of your major? Getting underpaid, getting bored with monotony but telling yourself you were satisfied? 

And that doesn’t even scratch the surface of the bigger questions of the future. You haven’t even spared a thought to kids, to getting married, to life past the next two years. 

“I mean… I am,” you shrug and step into the shower first, Eddie following close behind you and listening intently, “It’ll be nice to finally have the damn piece of paper to say ‘hey! I did it!’” 

“But?” he presses, scooting the two of you around in the small space so that he was standing directly beneath the spray of water. His curls flatten against his head immediately. 

“No buts,” you insist. As if you’re trying to convince yourself more of it than him. 

“So that’s all? You just want to get out of here?” he isn’t looking at you as he reaches for a bottle of shampoo, blinking water out of his eyes. 

This conversation is going surprisingly well. 

“Not here specifically,” you clarify. Your chest aches at the thought of just leaving behind all the friends you’d made, the life you had started in this city. The thought of already beginning to preemptively tear it down was enough to dampen your mood worse than the steam of the shower was doing to your hair, “I don’t know. Who cares about the future? What are you doing with your money?” 

He’s about to squirt some of the shampoo into the palm of his hand when you suddenly snatch it from him, holding up a finger and twirling it in a demanding manner. He’s shocked, but he turns for you regardless, even bending his knees as he gets the message. 

He doesn’t question the fact that you’re about to wash his hair. No protests towards something so domestic between previously sworn enemies. 

“I wasn’t lying earlier,” he starts just as you have lathered up your palms and set aside the shampoo on the shower ledge, fingertips digging right into his scalp. Even with the slight bend in his posture, your arms have to stretch to reach the crown of his head, “A new bike or guitar would be nice but– Oh,” a particular scratch of your nails has him faltering in his words, throwing his head back a bit more and humming. The throb, the ache, the burn returns. “Oh, that’s nice.” 

“Keep talking, pretty boy,” you murmur as he hums even louder. 

“Well, I… It’s not a lot of money, y’know? I mean, it is. But it also isn’t. Am I making any sense? Fuck, that feels good,” he stumbles across his point as your fingers continue small circles, and you already know without looking that his eyes have fluttered shut. 

The pit of your stomach can only rally, twisting and tumbling at his satisfaction. Something so domestic and something you had started with sweet intentions was quickly derailing, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. 

You have him. But you don’t have him. The same type of conundrum he faces with the amount of money promised to the both of you if you were to survive these hours. 

“You’re making sense,” you promise with a shy grin you know he can’t see, “Like, I know the money won’t pay off all my debts or college tuition, but it’s a good start. Anyways, as you were saying?” 

Both of you struggle to focus as he continues on, melting even further into your touch, “I dunno. Maybe if I have anything leftover, I’ll send it to my uncle.” 

His voice is strained as he’s occupied with the feeling of your hands against his scalp, and you know it’s a throwaway sentence, but the small detail of his life you’ve been awarded doesn’t go unnoticed.

Uncle? Why uncle? 

“You in debt to your uncle over a bad night of gambling or somethin’?” you try to joke as you finally release your fingertips from his scalp. Your palms come down on his shoulders as you spin him slowly, encouraging him to keep his head tipped back as he lets the water wash away the suds produced. 

Surprisingly, his shampoo doesn’t smell like boy. It��s akin to green apples, maybe something smoother beneath it all like coconut. Something sweet and something innocent. 

Maybe that’s what has him being so open to you as he explains, “I’ll always be in debt to him, but not for gambling. He raised me. My folks… weren’t the best. I owe everything to that man.” 

There are no good words to respond with. You suddenly feel selfish for pushing him to admit it, and for making that joke to begin with. 

But he only cracks open his eyes as the suds are mostly gone, looking at you through squinty eyes as he grins, “Guess I’m the boner killer now, huh?” 

You snort again (fuck, had he always been this funny?) and shake your head, finally glimpsing below his hips. 

Ironic of him to say that he was a boner killer when there he was, harder than ever for you, tip pink and glistening in a taunt towards you. 

You were both going to Hell. You were standing in his shower, talking about his uncle, both far too horny for the topic of conversation. 

“Modern day Bonnie and Clyde, but make it horny,” you manage to get out, still staring at him and resisting the urge to reach out and start something you didn’t know how to finish, “Does talking about money always get you this hard?” 

“Bonnie and Clyde were robbers, not killers,” he corrects you, “And why, yes. How did you know? Do you plan to use this lethal information against me again later?” 

A cavern in your chest screams out, when is later? Later within the next four hours, or later within the next year? Will you ever even give me a chance to use this against you again? 

You laugh along with his joke instead. 

“Absolutely. Also, who the fuck knows that much about Bonnie and Clyde?” 

You make him turn around again, and repeat a similar process with the conditioner. The entire time, you try to not think about the awareness that the same burn in your own gut is alight in him. 

He shrugs a little, bends a little more to encourage your fingertips back to his scalp. It doesn’t work — you’re focusing the conditioner on the drier ends of his curls. “I do.”

“Well, that’s just weird.” 

You work in silence as you finish threading the conditioner through and detangling his hair with just your fingers. You don’t immediately have him rinse it out, and he takes the opportunity to reward you with the same care, the same domesticity. And just as he hadn’t questioned you, you don’t protest when he manhandles you to spin and face your back to him. You let him indulge you in the same massaging motions that you had just pampered him with, let suds of that sweetness surround you as your eyes shut delicately and you lean your head back into his deliberate touches.

Same care, same domesticity, same sensuality. You never thought washing someone’s hair could be something so intimate until his knuckles are between your locks and your back is brushing up against his chest due to limited space.

“It’s not about the money,” he randomly announces to you once the shampoo has been rinsed out and the conditioner takes its place. “I mean, I figured you knew that, but… still thought I’d say.” 

“Figured as much.”

“I also wasn’t pissing,” he continues to overshare, “I know you figured as much there too.” 

Biting your bottom lip to hold back a grin, you keep the rest of your face relaxed as you nonchalantly ask, “No? What distracted you, then?” 

You can feel every deep breath he takes. The expansion of his chest only presses the two of you closer. Soon, you should both rinse out the conditioner. You should stop wasting water. The two of you should get out of this damn confining space and sleep, do something useful, make the most of the final four hours. 

Instead, you’re letting yourself get lost in billows of steam, and teasing him. And maybe that’s something useful for you. 

“You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?” 

You can hear his grin. God, you can hear his grin and those stupid dimples making an appearance without needing to see his face.

“Say what?” you ploy faux innocence. His fingers are still in your hair. He has no reason to continue to comb them through, but they remain there, grazing your scalp and brushing the back of your neck.

His chin meets your shoulder suddenly, his breath on your ear. “What did you call this earlier, sweetheart? I believe you called it… stupid.” 

Right. Stupid. 

Stupid was the ache that resided inside you for him. Stupid was the way your thighs shook from how hard they pressed together from each soft caress of his breath on the shell of your ear. Stupid was the urge to reach your arm around your back and grab onto him, any part of him, and try to pull him as closely as humanly possible — and then some. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

You’re a bad liar. And he loves it.

“Right,” he draws out the single syllable, hands leaving your hair, drifting at sea as they find comfort on your biceps, touch feather light, “You have no idea what I was doing in here. You weren’t staying by the door to see if you could hear me, trying to get a free show.” 

So you had been right in calling the two of you stupid. Neither of you had been very conspicuous. 

“A free show to what?” you keep up the act of innocence and swallow down the delighted hun when his hands move down your arms. You’re fully flush to his chest now, almost to the point of leaning your weight back against him.

“To me touching myself to you,” bold, crass words leave his lips, “To me fucking my fist to the thought of you. Squeezing my fist around my cock, trying to make it feel like that sweet pussy.” 

Your knees nearly buckle. You try to play it cool, “Oh? Is that what you were doing?”

His playful chuckle is the final straw, and his hands now on your waist are the only thing keeping you upright.

“I was.”

“And were you successful?”

How you kept your tone so steady, so even, was lost on you. 

“I wasn’t.”

One hand stays planted on your waist firmly, as if he knows he’s the only thing keeping you from collapsing in this heat between the two of you. The other dares to round to the front of your stomach, fingers splayed and fingertips almost tickling you as he lets them run down the center of your navel. He’s taking his time. Slowly, painfully, his hand travels. Down, down, down. Until his fingertips are grazing right over that fire he built inside you, mere inches from where you need him to touch you most. He has you right where he wants you, and he knows it.

And so he stops. Inches, maybe less, from where your cunt is throbbing for him. 

“Didn’t you say you were good with your fingers?” you’re trying to keep up a cool facade, but it’s becoming useless at this point. Your voice comes out a whine, and your hips subtly buck against empty air to try to encourage his touch lower.

“I did,” he hums directly into your ear. The hand on your waist becomes an arm fully wrapped around your front, and the press of your back to his chest becomes far more intentional. All of it to hold you in place as he moves his hand right over where you want him. He avoids your body’s pleas, and jumps straight to teasing his fingertips over the tops of your thighs. “Wouldn’t you agree?” 

It’s almost funny to remember how flustered he was when he’d first made the comment, how quick he had been to defend it against being something dirtier, only to now be using it against you in anything but an innocent context.

“Please,” the beg falls from your lip as you give up on the game.

It’s a combination of all his gentle touches, the feeling of his curls between your knuckles, the steam that is smothering the two of you without notice, the way you can still feel every damn breath of his. Both through his mouth now softly kissing at the lobe of your ear, and his chest that only presses more tightly to you. That tightening arm around your waist, and the subtle change of position of his knee.

You aren’t expecting it, and your feet slide apart quickly, nearly dropping onto his sweetly placed leg between yours. 

“Please what, sweetheart?” 

You can’t even recall the feeling of hatred you used to get at the nickname. Now, in its place, is something buzzing, something buttery, something contradictory. You’re dizzy with satisfaction from the way he murmurs it directly into your ear. 

“Please touch me,” you gasp when his knee brushes upwards, not quite reaching where you need him. You swear there’s a pulse now, a throbbing cry that would do just about anything to feel those hands on you, “Please, please.” 

You’re losing focus as your thoughts start to fuzz at the edges, suddenly only able to manage the words please and his name.

And it isn’t lost on him. “Look at you. I haven’t even touched you yet, and you’re already going so dumb for me, aren’t you?” 

Your stomach churns, everything in you tightens, and your pride isn’t above dropping yourself down properly onto his knee and grinding. You would if you could — his fucking arm won’t let you.

When you glance down, you realize just how tight his grip is. You can trace each vein along his forearm, catch the white of his knuckles as they curl against you.

He’s holding onto you for dear life, and yet his death grip doesn’t so much as hurt. You only feel safe, you only feel wanted. 

“Please just touch me, Eddie,” you whimper out, not caring about how desperate you sound anymore. You have no shame, no pride, no careful calculations left for the man behind you. 

His hands stop their dance across the apex of your thighs. One moment, you can barely feel his fingertips running over their softness, and the next, it vanishes completely. 

You open your mouth to protest, but all that comes out is a gasp as his fingers are suddenly on your cunt, spreading you apart at a leisurely pace. You move to grab onto his forearm for leverage but he suddenly tsks and stops all of his movements. 

“You can either have me touch you, or you touch me. But you can’t have both, sweetheart. Not right now.” 

Through the haze, you’re unable to use your words to answer, instead cracking your eyes back open and trying to crane your neck to see Eddie properly. But he’s only chuckling into your ear again, arm around your waist tightening. 

“C’mon, baby. Use your words. Which would you rather have?” he taunts, tilting his chin down and letting his nose nuzzle against the peak of your shoulder, lips barely brushing the skin. 

You would have expected to not even catch the subtle feeling of plushness on you right now between your ever-growing frustration and the water still raining down on both of you. But you do; your body is growing acutely aware of every single point of contact between the two of you as the minutes go on. Every inch of your skin is tuned into his touch and where it flows, where it leaves you, where it presses deeper. 

You open your mouth to respond to him, but you can’t. You can’t explain it: there isn’t a tightness in your throat, a pain grasp on your chest, a fear that is swallowing the words whole. It’s the opposite. All of your taut strings have gone slack, waves of surrendering to him having overcome all of your deepest anxieties. In this moment, amongst the white noise of a shitty apartment shower, all that there exists is him. The time limit slips away, the bet is a thing of the past, and the road taken to bring you both here is completely forgotten. 

His touch is able to remain light when he decides to turn you in his arm, the grip once around your waist now pressing into your lower back as you face him. You’re completely malleable for him to do as he wishes. 

Facing him, you watch all of the amusement and cockiness melt away from his features. His smirk goes soft and his face falls in awe, mouth parted as he takes in that look in your eyes. He knows. He knows that in this moment, you are completely defenseless and utterly his. 

You watch all the air leave his lungs, and feel the consequential breath that releases hit the bridge of your nose due to the proximity. “You really are cock drunk for me right now, aren’t you? I haven’t even given it to you yet and you’re just… gone.” 

If you weren’t completely under his spell at this moment, you would have burned with embarrassment down to the bone. 

You just nod. 

With this revelation, his grip on you completely transforms. It’s not just a matter of keeping you upright, but a matter of keeping you tethered to him. As if he’s afraid that the moment he lets go, he loses you. 

If you could find the words, you’d assure him that he wouldn’t. You weren’t something so fleeting, so passing. 

Without words, all you can do is show him. So you press up onto your tip-toes and kiss him. Hard, then soft. Fervently, then patiently. Achingly, and then assuredly. Every flash of contradiction between the two of you and all that has accumulated goes into the kiss as you let him find his breath again, solely by stealing yours. 

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs against your lips, before his nose rubs against the tip of yours as it begins a journey. Across your cheek, down your jaw, into the crook of your neck. You feel spouts of warm water trickle over his collarbones and against your own. 

This time, you do have the words for him. Or rather, the word for him.

“You.”

There’s no other way to put it. You just want him. 

He pulls back and stares directly into your eyes, his own brown ones swarming with varied emotions. You’re finally able to start deciphering some of them – lust, want, surprise – but not quite all of them yet. 

Before you realize what’s happening, he’s sinking to his knees. Somehow, he’s twisted you so that your back meets the cool tile of the wall, careful in watching the way it supports you during the entirety of his descent. 

He doesn’t say a word, his eyes doing all the talking necessary through wet lashes as he guides you to balance a foot on the edge of the tub and hook your knee onto his shoulder. Just as you realize what he’s doing, his mouth is on your hot cunt. 

For all the talk and thoughts about just how good his fingers were, you seemed to have forgotten just how good his mouth was. 

His tongue works away at your clit, tracing patterns before alternating to suck it sharply between his lips. He seems to have forgotten about his earlier threat, or maybe he’s just feeling merciful, as your hands instinctively reach down and wind into the roots of his wet hair. Curls matt in your grasp instantly. A harsh tug, and he’s moving his attention elsewhere, nose now nudging your clit as he circles around your entrance, pulling whines from deep within you at the teasing. 

“Eddie,” you throw your head back hard enough that you’re sure that there will be an ache to feel once all is said and done, “Fuck. Right there.”

“I see someone’s found their words,” his voice is muffled and you can feel his smirk rather than see it. 

It’s a damn pretty sight. Him, on his knees, wet curls plastering down his shoulders and back as his face is buried between your thighs. 

You can trace over each indent of muscle across his skin through half-lidded eyes, memorize the way it looks dazzling with the moisture, watch as water pools where his fingers dig into your thighs to keep you balanced. 

When his tongue finally slips inside of you, slow and stretching as the tip of his nose digs deeper into your clit, you swear you’re seeing stars. You were going to snarkily reply, but you don’t have the capacity to reply with anything other than chants of his name. Mixtures of praying to him and praying to God fall from your lips alongside curses. All muddled, all strings of whimpers and moans as he continues to bring you closer to your edge. When he finally resorts to bringing his hand back into the mix, sinking two fingers into your cunt with little warning as he returns to lazy work on your clit, you gasp out – your body lurches forward as your curl into him and your back leaves the now sticky, warm wall. 

The arm that was wrapped around your lifted leg to help you balance is quick to throw over your hips, keeping half your body still pressed to the wall. “Careful, princess.” 

Each word reverberates through you, both physically and somewhere deep in your mind, sending you even further reeling as your fingers grab onto him deeper and try to press him impossibly close. 

Princess. Somewhere along crossing all these lines, you have ventured into new territory. A territory where the nicknames get under your skin in a brand new way, slipping into your subconscious for the better rather than arising any irritation. 

Baby, princess, sweetheart. 

You’ll take whatever you can get from him. 

“Wouldn’t want you slipping and falling,” he murmurs as he pulls back, face now slick with you rather than the steam or water, “Can’t have you ruining that pretty face, getting blood all over my bathroom, now can we?” 

He’s right. God, you fucking hate when he’s right. As much as every part of your body is screaming for him to take you right here against the shower wall, you know it’s not a good idea. And you’ve really, really succumbed to enough bad ideas in these last nineteen hours. 

“Bed,” you manage to gasp out, quick to detangle your fingers from his hair and try to grab onto his shoulders without purchase due to the water still tumbling down, “Bed, now.” 

He gets the message. Rises to his feet and lets your leg fall back down, shaking as he turns to cut the shower abruptly. Without asking, he’s the one to exit into the fierce cold of the apartment first, grabbing at the flesh of your hips and guiding you out along with him. He doesn’t even bother with towels – once he has you out of that potential death trap of a tub, his lips are on yours, nipping and passionate as you breathe him in. He’s the one that maneuvers the two of you out of the bathroom, you don’t even notice when he reaches behind himself to open the door, impressively never tripping as he walks backwards and keeps your lips on his. 

It occurs to you that this is how you two work best. No overshadow of being honest with each other, no clouds of feelings getting in the way. And yet, somehow, it’s the most vulnerable you’ve managed to feel with him yet. 

You don’t want it to only be this easy when both your clothes are off. You want it to be this easy in the early mornings that you wake him up for work, you want it this easy over late night take-out and horror movie marathons. You want more cigarettes at sunset with him, soft confessionals over a rising sun. 

You can’t keep pretending that nothing has changed. You simply can’t. The fierce promise of his protection, the way his eyes stay trained on you even in the busiest of rooms. Nothing could ever erase the blooms left from him hooking his pinky with yours at the parking garage. 

All of the night is flashing through your mind, and even in the trance he has you under, you’re seeing with perfect clarity. 

It’s why just as the backs of your knees connect with his mattress, before he can throw you down and continue what was started in the shower, you’re pushing your palms against his wet chest and forcing him to look into your eyes. 

“If we do this,” you shakily begin, watching his chest rise and fall in sync with yours. Once you say these words, you can’t take them back. You’re vividly aware of it before you continue to force your voice to come out the most steadily it has the entire night, “It changes everything.” 

He blinks, eyes owlish. Once, twice. More of that emotion you finally can single out but never identify swirls like storm clouds in his vision. You wait for him to run, for him to take it all back. You wait for it all to be over – for him to deliver the final blow and leave you to collect the rubble and blood money so you can pretend this night never happened. 

“Okay.” 

Those aren’t the words of a fatal blow. You think they might send you reeling even worse, though. 

“Okay?” you clarify. If your tongue wasn’t so heavy, you’d say more. Remind him of what exactly it means to change everything. 

It seems he already knows as he parrots back, “Okay.” 

Lips meet again, and this time, they’re charged with everything. With a promise of change and a promise that maybe there isn’t a ridiculous time limit here. There is no doomsday clock between the two of you. When the clock strikes 3 PM, neither of you will vanish into thin air. 

You let him throw you back onto the bed. Your bare back meets the surprisingly soft sheets, and they erupt in the scent of Eddie. Cigarettes, a hint of weed, whatever cologne he seems to douse himself in. You can even pinpoint his shampoo amongst the fragrance now. 

It’s no longer the smell of boy that you once ran from. His hand is behind your back, but not trapped. It’s there willingly and it is caressing every inch of you that he can find, tracing out any dimples in your back he can discover as he lets your legs curl up onto his hips, kisses dappling your neck, jaw, and lips alike. 

Your vines stretch high and proud, and drink in his waves with every passing of his breath on your skin that raises goosebumps. 

You want to live here forever. In the feel of him pausing right before his cock presses into you, in the way his face scrunches up and his mouth falls agape, the haze now spreading from your mind and across both of you. Nameless chants and pleads for what was already both in the palm of your hands before you even knew what to do with it. The roll of his hips and the way his wet skin sticks to your own. Your heels digging into him, bringing him in closer, closer, closer.

Every time, it has felt this way. Something beneath the surface that has you surrendering over yourself. He has hurt you, time and time again, and you’ve let your knives be just as sharp – but the wounds scab over now when it’s just the two of you like this. 

You’re best like this for a reason. Because for once, neither of you are overthinking it. You are vulnerable and you are bare, not just physically but emotionally. Honesty isn’t a request; it is a given. You don’t just have him, you know him. Across oceans and across gardens, across midnight skies and across soft morning light. 

You have him. You know him. 

It’s enough. 

Smokey bars. His protection. Slamming doors and the clicking of locks released. The night air surrounding you and the warmth of his back as you cling to him on a motorcycle that seems to be going faster than light in your memories. That parking garage, and that hook of his pinky – a way to get closer, but also a whisper of a promise. 

He’s bled for you. He’s bled from you. 

This changes everything. 

When his hips movements become sloppy, when the knot in your stomach tightens one last time, when your nails dig into his back and leave their mark, you know it to be true. 

Everything, everything, changes. 

Eddie never really hated you, never really could, and you realize now that the feeling is mutual. 

—

You hadn’t considered exactly what the aftermath would be when Eddie first dragged you out of the shower, but you surely never could have imagined the scene now playing out. 

Him, on his back, content and humming a song you’re too tired to ask him about. His fingers are trailing mindlessly up and down your spine as you splay out across his chest. You both probably need another shower, but neither of you are willing to leave his bed for it. 

It’s not you who remembers the photo. No, you’re tired, one foot already in the door of sleep as you curl yourself tighter into his side. 

He doesn’t use your phone this time. You didn’t even realize his outdated flip phone had a camera on it. You’re not even sure if you dreamt the soft click that sounds like a camera as you nuzzle deeper into his chest.

“Everything,” he whispers, just as the edges of your consciousness begin to blacken, “Yeah, this changes everything.”

Your last thought is a curious one; will he send the photo he just took? 

Would he dare to admit to everyone how everything has changed?

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[seeingivy]

obsessed

actor!sukuna x f!reader

**part of my dream girl fic

songs mentioned: bad blood by taylor swift and obsessed by olivia rodrigo (the performance mentioned in the chapter is based on the performance that olivia rodrigo does on the guts tour - linked here)

--

ryomen sukuna is a calculating man. 

cunning, conniving, contriving – they’re all words that sukuna’s had thrown in his face throughout the six years of his acting career, each and every time he steps forward and leaves people behind to rise to the top. 

and they’re not words that aren’t true. 

when sukuna was sixteen, he was playing hooky on the streets of los angeles instead of attending his statistics class. it was something he did often – bending rules, running around – when it felt like too many things were rattling in his head. 

sometimes it was the only thing that made his heart feel like it was still beating in his chest. and it didn’t really matter, because it wasn’t like anyone took him too seriously anyways. 

with an impending eviction notice, a sub-par report card, and teetering the edge of being fired from the coffee shop that he worked at, it was hard for anyone to do that anyways. sukuna wasn’t exactly as pure as his brothers. 

his eldest brother choso was the epitome of perfection. kind, intelligent, and brave – it was clear to sukuna that choso had a very strong bearing on what life was meant to be like, that he had a vision for himself that he was seeing through. though he supposed that spending five years in foster care before he joined his family would do that to someone. 

and his youngest brother yuuji was the embodiment of everything warm. funny, good looking, and compassionate – sometimes it made his stomach turn over how unbelievingly good he was. though sukuna figured that some people just had that in them – goodness that was innate. 

and it was glaringly obvious to him that sukuna was nothing like them. rough around the edges, harsh, and opinionated – it almost felt like he wasn’t even related to them. and the worst part? 

they’d spent their entire life trying to convince him otherwise. 

it was bright and loud, a sticky california day, that he found himself skating through the cracked pavement before he was stopped, by a twenty-five year old woman. 

there was nothing really special about her. a boring gray pencil skirt, an uptight hair do – but the flyer that she handed him was really quite the opposite. because it was a glimmering offer, to be scouted by an acting agency. 

the shiny numbers promised at the bottom – the three zeros that followed the one with the sign-on bonus had him running to the warehouse – because they were so promising. 

because sukuna couldn’t do many things right, but he could fix things by making himself useful. he couldn’t be soft, but he could be their salvation. bringing some money in so choso wouldn’t have to take out so many loans, so yuuji didn’t have to recycle his tux for his first homecoming. 

it was a done deal. 

and with one lick of how things worked, sukuna knew that he had found something that he would be great at. because while acting was an art, the industry that you had to survive in to do it was something entirely different. 

competition, rivalry, and struggle – it wasn’t anything he was a stranger to. in fact, he excelled at it. it was all too easy and before he knew it, he was quickly climbing ladders, picking who he knew and who he didn’t, and who he should have been associated with. 

and after two years, at eighteen, he was sniffing out the best of the best, batting eyelashes and flashing smiles to get what he wanted. 

and while he was calculated, it didn’t mean that he always counted right. a controversial relationship, a drug scandal, and as of late, what might have been the most vicious barking dog disguised as a barbie he’s ever seen. 

kim lynch is the icy kind of beautiful. the daughter of two high industry tycoons, a half-decent singer-songwriter, who had tons of connections. an almost synthetic smile, hollow laughs, and a wall so high sukuna figured he’d die if he ever tried to climb it. 

he figured it was a good idea. and for a few months, it was. because the after parties, the partnerships, and the people – it was a leg up that he couldn’t buy or charm his way into. but like most things were with him, all good things came to an end. 

because while sukuna was great, his overarching hunch that girls like kim ran for the shiniest thing in close proximity was all but confirmed when she seemingly ended things on a sour note – claiming that there was something too…unfixable about him that she just couldn’t get past. 

and knowing her, she was about to start the biggest slander campaign known to man. 

“this isn’t good, sukuna.” marjorie states. 

“i’m well aware, marj.” sukuna responds. 

“then why did you do it? because i specifically asked you not to. you had to get your dick wet that bad?” 

sukuna scoffs. 

marjorie simmons was sukuna’s manager, having taken her rightful spot after he broke up with his previous manager, the original woman who scouted him when he was sixteen. 

and at odd times, marj reminded him an awful lot of his sister-in-law, yuki, only because she always seemed to have some string of choice words for him every time he acted like an idiot. 

it was one of the only reasons that he kept her around. the familiarity, that was almost nowhere to be found in the overwhelming plasticity of the industry, was comforting. 

“i thought it would be a good idea.” sukuna states. 

“you should leave the thinking to me, idiot.” marjorie states, using her fingertips to massage at her temples. 

sukuna crackles his knuckles, leaning forward to pinch the bridge of his nose, before reaching for marj’s hands, and pulling her down onto the couch next to him. 

“marj, you know what this means to me.” sukuna murmurs. 

“sukuna, i literally warned you.” she whines. 

“i know, marj. but there’s so much riding on this. i’ll literally do anything you tell me to. i promise.” sukuna begs. 

in a very challenging game of moves and countermoves, sukuna found himself – by some turn of luck – and his little brother yuuji as the leads in a new show, being spearheaded by an a-list producing company. and if he tried his very best, it would solidify him as an a-lister himself, and set his parents and choso up for life. 

the only problem? the bad pr could tank the numbers for the show. he knew well enough that that lynch’s had generational pull – fans that would blindly follow anything and everything they did. 

and he watches as marj sighs, flipping through her papers, before slamming her fists on the table. 

“you desperately need good pr, sukuna. that’s the only type of thing that could combat something like this.” 

sukuna sighs. 

“the press for jujustu kaisen is just about to start rolling out.” sukuna offers. 

marj shakes her head. 

“that’s not enough. you need a way to bite back, but not directly. because anything you say or do can easily be perceived negatively. you…need a way to have someone else do it on your behalf.” 

sukuna looks at her eyes, steel gray and a deep inclination that the gears are turning in her head, as he waits for her response. 

“the worst case scenario is that kim writes a bunch of shitty songs about you that ruin your reputation. if it’s bad enough, it’ll tank the ratings of the show, at least by a sizeable dent, due to how big her following is.” she states. 

“we can’t have that happening.” 

marj sighs. 

“you need to bite back with equally loyal support.” 

sukuna pinches his lips into a line. 

“my fans don’t exactly do that. they just…call me hot and call it a day.” 

“i’m well aware.” 

he watches as she taps her manicured fingers on the top of the glass table, the sound pricking at his ears before she stops and looks up at him, the slightest smudges of her mascara accumulating underneath her eyes. 

“you’ll do anything?” she asks. 

“anything, marj. this has to work.” 

marj swallows hard, before crossing her arms over her chest. 

“you need to find another girlfriend.” marj states, 

“what?” 

“ideally, a pr girlfriend. someone who has the same motives as you, that has something in it for her the same way you do.” 

sukuna sighs. 

“and that helps me how?” 

“if you’re able to get one of these…pop princesses to help you, their fanbase will bite back for you. and a few lovey dovey songs here and there will definitely help.” 

sukuna groans. 

“that sounds –” 

“you said you’d do anything, sukuna. and i know you’re smart enough to know this – this is all about moves and countermoves. you’re only going to be able to drown out the bad, if you have good on the other side too.” 

sukuna sighs. only because he knows that marj is right. 

“okay, i’ll try.” 

“i’ll see what i can do to help, ‘kuna. see you on friday, alright?” 

he gives her a nod, sinking down into the soft plush pillows of her office, as the clicking sound of her heels fade into the distance. 

--

on thursday night, marj secures him two tickets to studio eleven’s start of the season charity event. 

at the end of each awards cycle, in partnership with the other recording studios in los angeles, studio eleven hosts a charity event for the local los angeles community. a night of fundraising, networking, and music – with every relevant singer-songwriter in attendance. 

sukuna had attended last year with kim. he found it awfully stiff, only because she was so drunk by the end of her set that her filter was gone – and he heard what were probably the most god awful and tone deaf things he couldn’t even imagine a real person would actually say. 

but this year, it was the one place he wanted to be. because it was the perfect place for him to pick his poison. 

“sukuna.” yuuji whispers. 

“what?” 

“fushiguro is here.” yuuji whispers back, the excitement entirely giving his way. 

although yuuji refuses to admit it, he has the most god awful crush on his new co-star, fushiguro megumi. one that sukuna had been speculating was returned by the stoically quiet grump. 

sukuna wouldn’t admit it, but the irritated guise he put up was just that – a guise. he deeply appreciated getting to see his brother be so giddy, even if it was about that weirdo.  

“you should go talk to him. and stop irritating me.” sukuna states. 

“do i look fine?” yuuji asks, gesturing to his air and readjusting the collar of his shirt, his eyes expectant as he waits for an answer. 

“you look fine, miss universe. just go over there.” sukuna grumbles. 

two hours later, he almost wished that he had begged yuuji to say. only because the prospects that he was considering were dwindling down to nothing after each consecutive set. because each girl either didn’t have a big enough following, already had a guard dog of a girlfriend like historia reiss, or were way too buddy-buddy with kim to even consider his proposition. 

“our next set is featuring kim lynch, with musical guest jake nicholson on guitar, from real sun studios!” 

sukuna can feel the irritation flare up in him as he watches kim walk across the stage – the synthetic smile on her lips as the lights flash in an almost blinding manner – and her irritatingly piercing voice fills the little club. 

'Cause baby, now we got bad blood You know it used to be mad love So take a look what you've done 'Cause baby, now we got bad blood (hey!)

Now we got problems And I don't think we can solve 'em You made a really deep cut And baby, now we got bad blood (hey!)

“i’d be shitting my pants if i were y/n right now.” 

sukuna tunes into the conversation on his left, two girls in billowing silver and gold dresses, in an attempt to tune out the damage that kim was currently doing to his ear drums...and his brain cells. 

“that’s not about y/n.” 

“that’s jake, sarah. y/n’s ex-boyfriend. apparently they just broke up because y/n was horribly jealous of aimee since jake used to have a crush on her back in the day.” 

“really?” 

“yeah. I saw it on twitter. she was like obsessed with her, she wouldn’t stop bringing aimee up until he eventually got annoyed by how insecure she was and broke up with her.” 

“oh god. well, this doesn’t exactly help matters. and she’s going on next too.” 

“look, she’s over there! she doesn’t look bothered at all!” 

and he follows their line of vision to the right, only to see what must be you standing in the tent in between megumi and yuuji, downing an entire glass of pink wine before shoving it in megumi’s free hand and walking off. 

Oh, it's so sad to think about the good times You and I

'Cause baby, now we got bad blood You know it used to be mad love So take a look what you've done 'Cause baby, now we got bad blood (hey!)

sukuna’s curiosity is piqued as he watches the tool on the left, jake, and kim hug it out, before they strut off the stage. and really – is more interested to see whatever it was that you were going to do – now that you had to be some type of buzzed. 

marj told him to find someone that would have their interests aligned with his. and if the blood was as bad as kim was letting on, he might have just found his perfect match. 

“ryomen sukuna.” 

sukuna turns to his left to find the devil of the hour, kim, standing at his side and fights the urge to gag. because while she was one of his better girlfriends, he supposes, the current issues that she was creating – with everything that was at stake – was filling him with the rage of the burning sun. 

“hi kim.” 

“i’d watch your back if i were you.” 

there was always something slimy about the way that she talked. the way the words seemed to whistle out of her perfectly white teeth – he had always found it unsettling. even more so, when she had a penchant to be as intimidating as she was trying to be right now. 

the booming speakers cut him off before he could bite back. 

“our next set is featuring our resident new york native, y/n l/n from dancing lady studios, with her new song obsessed!” 

the back screen flashes red lights, as he watches you walk onto the stage in a bright red bodysuit and shiny star tights, giving a bright and full smile to the cheers that seem to erupt from everyone in the audience. 

sukuna’s able to ogle in the full light this time. at the tiny needled tattoos on your arms, the shimmering glitter spread over your collarbone, and your glimmering eyes. 

and immediately feels his heart race as your sweet smile turns into an almost sneaky grin, as the backtrack starts playing. 

La-da-da-da, da-da-da, la-da-da-da-da La-da-da-da, da-da-da

If I told you how much I think about her You'd think I was in love And if you knew how much I looked at her pictures You would think we're best friends

'Cause I know her star sign, I know her blood type I've seen every movie she's been in and, oh god, she's beautiful And I know you loved her, and I know I'm butthurt But I can't help it, no, I can't help it

I'm so obsessed with your ex (uh-huh) I know she's been asleep on my side of your bed And I can feel it I'm starin' at her like I wanna get hurt And I remember every detail you have ever told me So be careful, baby

it’s an embarrassingly hot feeling that he gets, that pools in his stomach. and really, the hot feeling only gets worse as he watches you crawl onto the stage, now singing into a camera that seems to be embedded in the stage, as he can only watch – wholly mesmerized. 

he’s no stranger to pretty girls, but he’s never seen someone so eye-catching like you. only – that and the fact that you seem to have some deep guts, to bite back at aimee and kim with no fear. 

it fills sukuna with the worst kind of excitement. 

She's got those lips, she's got those hips The life of every fuckin' party She's talented, she's good with kids She even speaks kindly about me, ha-huh

And I know you love me, and I know it's crazy But every time you call my name, I think you mistake me for her You both have moved on, you don't even talk But I can't help it, I got issues, I can't help it, baby

“fucking bitch.” 

sukuna’s broken out of his intense entrance, only to find kim and now her sister aimee at his side fuming. and the two of them are so quick with it – typing away on their phones, as he slowly connects the dots about what’s happening. 

Is she friends with your friends? Does she give great head?  Do you think about her? No, I'm fine, it doesn't matter, tell me Is she easy-going? Never controlling? Well-traveled? Well-read? Oh god, she makes me so upset

I'm so obsessed with your ex (ah) She's been asleep on my side in your bed (ah, whoa) I'm so obsessed with your ex (god, she makes me so upset, ah) I'm so obsessed with your, with your ex

and he watches as you blow one last kiss to the audience, to what. might be the most deafening aplause he's ever heard, before skipping back off from where you came from. 

and sukuna knows deep down that he’s found his dream girl - and now he just has to get her.

--

“y/n?” 

you look to your right to find someone towering over you – soft cotton candy pink hair and hazel brown eyes. 

“that would be me.” you respond. 

he extends his hand out, as you note the doll silver rings across his knuckles and shakes. the grasp is firm, but his hands are cold as he gives you a smile. 

“i’m ryomen sukuna.” 

megumi’s co-star. 

“right. it’s nice to meet you.” you respond, dropping your hand and lifting the glass of pink wine to your lips. 

“i saw you talking to megumi earlier. are you friends?” 

you pause. 

“you could say that.” you respond. 

sukuna grins. he’s found his in. 

“we go way back.” sukuna states. 

you swallow down the warmth of the wine, before turning looking up properly this time, to inspect him in full. 

the first thing that you notice is how tall he is – only because he seems to be towering over you, so much so that he has to arch his entire neck down to look at you. he has tattoos – black ink that you can’t entirely make out creeping across his arms and his neck – his entire look almost perfectly edgy with the three earrings that dangle from his earlobe. 

he smells like mint, which is shocking given how the smell of sweat seems to be hanging and lingering in the air here, and you can’t really pinpoint what it is that’s brewing in his eyes, but there’s one thing that you know for sure. 

that he’s a liar. 

“that’s sweet. when did you meet him?” you ask. 

“in elementary school. he’s always been the quiet type.” 

you smile. he took the bait.  

“he seems like the type.” you respond. 

“speaking of types, what’s yours?” 

he’s awfully forward. though you suppose for someone as attractive as him, this type of thing must work all the time. 

“why do you ask?” 

sukuna leans forward, his hands making your skin prickle as he rests them against your bicep, only to lean forward and whisper in your ear. 

“you’re a smart girl. i know you can figure it out, sweetheart.” 

you lean back, crossing your arms over your chest as you swirl the pink wine in your glass. and figure that if he was going to try this blatantly to lie to you – you might as well milk an idiot like this for all that it’s worth. 

“i’ll give it a shot.” you respond, giving him a wink that seems to excite him way too much.. 

sukuna grins and you note that he has dimples – on both sides. 

“atta girl.” he responds. 

“your name is ryomen sukuna. you’re an up and coming actor, with a decent amount of credits, who just got signed onto mappa’s new show, as the lead with your brother, itadori yuuji. you’ve gotten far in the industry – all on your own merit, of course – by using charm and wit to make connections, along with what i hear is some pretty decent acting.. and while you’ve done mostly well, you’ve made some questionable company as of late, with two vixens who i can’t seem to get away from. and now that you’ve ended up on their bad side, like everyone inevitably does, you’re trying to see if i’ll help you bring them down, by trying to charm me by lying.” you state. 

you watch as his eyes widen, before he leans back, his cheeks the slightest shade of pink as he swallows hard. and you give him your sincerest smile before pulling out your phone and digging for the photo in your favorites. 

of you and megumi in grade school, standing hand in hand. 

“i think i’d remember if the human version of pinkie pie from my little pony was running around my middle school.” you state. 

and shockingly enough, he only gives you a smile in response – like he’s almost delighted by the fact that you’ve just read him to filth – as he sticks his tongue in the side of his cheek and makes a clicking sound. 

“got me all figured out, don’t you dollface?” 

“you’re painfully obvious, like most men. i’ll see you around, sukuna.” you respond, as you turn on your heel to walk away. 

but he’s almost too fast with it, slithering his hand down from your elbow to your wrist, pulling slightly to beckon you to turn back. and he gives you an…a more earnest smile this time as he raises your knuckles to his lips, and leaves a kiss in between the pointer in the middle. 

“that’s a promise, sweetheart.” 

--

after seven phone calls, filled with his most incessant begging, sukuna’s plan is set in motion. 

as he now has exclusive passes to attending your npr tiny desk performance in two days. 

“you know, this wasn’t exactly the vibe i had in mind. she’s kind of a wildcard.” marj mumbles. 

sukuna turns on his heel, before giving marj a smile, one that he can tell that she doesn’t like in the slightest. 

“and that’s why she’s perfect.”

--

next part linked here

an: actor sukuna welcome to the ronnie verse....

(i'm opening a taglist specific for this fic lmk if you would like to be added <3)

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @timmytimmytuckyy @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga @skunabby @meisque @hoseokslefteyebrow

[steddiealltheway]

Thinking of a coffee shop AU where Steve and Robin work together. They play this little game where they guess what a new customer’s order will be. To their surprise, Steve is accurate almost 100% of the time. Especially after he gets the hang of it, it’s like he’s a coffee mind reader - at least, that’s what Robin calls him.

The best friends spend most of their time chatting and occasionally Robin will ask, “Blondie who just walked in?” Or “Obnoxious purple tie, third in line?”

And Steve will answer in a few seconds, “Iced coffee, two shots of expresso, and three pumps of caramel… clearly a large latte with french vanilla and an oat milk substitute.”

Most of the time, Robin will make the order before the customer gets to the register. She’s learned to always trust Steve’s gut.

On a particularly slow day, Robin and Steve lounge by the machines, having cleaned them three times already. Steve steals a cookie from the display and gives half to Robin as they chat.

The bell rings and Robin nudges Steve. “What about him?”

Steve swallows. The man has long curly brown hair which rests over a leather jacket and some band t-shirt that Steve doesn’t recognize. His jeans are black and purposefully ripped at the knees, and his combat boots are well worn. The answer is obvious to anyone. “Easy, a large black coffee.”

For once, Robin hesitates to make the coffee, choosing to watch the interaction instead.

“Hi, welcome in, what can I get for you?” Steve asks with practiced ease.

Big brown eyes that were previously scanning the menu above now land on Steve, and Steve can’t help but pinch his leg behind the counter so he can get a grip.

The customer’s mouth opens and closes a few times, seemingly indecisive, which Steve finds to be a bit ridiculous because why would he want anything that isn’t just plain dark coffee? He doesn’t get lost in these thoughts for too long because the customer’s lips are a bit distracting…

“I’ll have a medium caramel frappe with whipped cream and maybe a bit of cinnamon on top?” The customer requests.

Steve freezes.

“Is that… okay? I don’t mind not getting the cinnamon if that’s a problem…” he trails off looking adorably flustered.

Steve clears his throat and reasons out loud, “This isn’t for you, right”

The stranger’s brow furrows. “Is there something wrong with my order?”

Oh shit. Yeah, that was rude. “No, no! Not at all! I just thought… well… with your whole look and vibe you would get something… not so sweet.” Fuck. He’s digging a bigger hole for himself.

“My vibe?” The man questions and luckily the crease in his brow is no longer there, and there’s maybe even a smile that tugs at his lips.

“A good vibe! Well, actually I thought you looked kind of scary. Not scary! Just… intimidating, man. With the leather and all black but it’s cool, dude.” Steve’s hands settle on his hips as he nods - at what, he doesn’t know, but he’s nodding. There’s a small kick to his shin that he knows is from Robin who is fixing the coffee next to him, but he’s going to refuse to look at her.

The sound of a lid snapping on the top of a drink container snaps Steve out of outright staring at the man now. Christ. Robin pushes beside him and slides the drink across the counter. “On the house to repay you for my coworker’s manners,” Robin says with a big grin.

“Oh, I didn’t mind really,” the man says, fidgeting with the large silver rings on his hand. Steve can’t tell if he’s imagining the blush on his cheeks or not.

“In that case, please come back and pray that Steve here can get himself together before then,” Robin says nudging Steve hard. Steve winces at the impact.

“Will do,” the man says, taking his drink and straw and walking out the building.

Steve buries his head in his hands.

“What was that?” Robin asks in a hushed tone although there’s no one around.

“I don’t know! I got his order completely wrong, and it threw me off!” Steve uncovers his face and begins stress cleaning the machine.

Robin laughs. “I haven’t seen you put your foot in your mouth so hard since Scoops.”

“Don’t remind me,” Steve begs.

“Well, at least you’ll never have to see him again because it seems like we’ve lost that customer forever,” Robin says with another laugh as Steve groans recalling the interaction.

It turns out that Robin is wrong though because he shows up again. The next day, in fact. Then the next… and the next… and the next… He starts coming more often than some of their regulars, and eventually he becomes one of them.

And every time, he orders something different. He’s gotten a hot latte, an iced latte, a cappuccino, chai tea, and even a hot chocolate. But everything he orders is overwhelmingly sweet - most times requesting an extra sweetener, and Steve has even seen him use extra sugar packets the few times he’s sat down inside.

A few days into Steve’s new favorite game of trying to guess the man’s new order, he finally gives him his name: Eddie.

Regrettably, Steve had gotten his name because it was a busy day and he had needed to. But still, he had his name.

On a particularly slow day with only Steve working, Eddie ends up being the only one in the coffee shop. Steve writes on a sticky note what his order will be because Robin isn’t there as a witness, and Steve needs some evidence in case he guessed correctly.

“Hey, Eddie, what can I get for you?” Steve asks with a smile.

“How about a medium peppermint mocha?”

Steve is going to tear up that sticky note and throw it away. He moves to make the mocha quickly, adding in extra pumps of mocha because he’s sure Eddie will want it sweeter.

When Eddie goes to pay and accept his coffee, he hesitates. He gives Steve a curious look and asks, “Why do you cringe every time I order something? Is it something I say? Or is it the order itself?” It comes out soft and curious rather than harsh and demanding which Steve is thankful for.

Steve says, “Well, it’s a long story but… here, I’ll show you.” He reached over and grabs the sticky note reading hot cappuccino, four pumps of caramel, and five packets of sugar and places it in front of Eddie who reads it over, throughly confused. “I guess people’s orders, and most of the time I’m right or I’m close enough that I’m basically right. But with you, I’ve guessed it wrong every single time. I just can’t figure you out.”

A small smile graces Eddie’s face. “Does that mean I’m special then?”

Steve’s heart thuds. “I guess it does,” he replies with grin.

“I’m glad,” Eddie says then winks at him. “I’ll be back tomorrow so you can guess wrong again,” he comments while turning to leave.

Steve chuckles, slightly flustered. “Looking forward to it, Eddie.”

“I bet you are,” Eddie flirts as he makes his way out the door.

Steve flushes bright red. Yeah, he definitely guessed Eddie all wrong, and he prays to continue to do just that so he’ll keep coming back. He knows one thing for sure though - Eddie’s drinks are about as sweet as him.

[xxsabitoxx]

My Personal Hashira 🍆 Size Ranking

Warning: if it ain’t obvious, this contains smut lmao — therefore Muichiro is 100% not included in this. We’re talking about 🍆, length, girth, all the fun stuff. So if PPs make you uncomfortable keep on scrolling babes </3

A/N: these low key stress me out cause I feel like people can get pretty defensive over these types of Headcanons. Especially if my own thought differs from yours. Regardless, these are just my personal takes/HCs. My word is not law so do not be upset if my HC does not match yours / don’t feel the need to change how you HC these things to fit my POV. This is why I refrain from describing size in my fics, I want y’all to imagine it in a way that you like lololol

Lastly, idgaf if you see some of this as unrealistic, these are fake, fictional drawings of men, if I wanna give Gyomei a 44ft long 🍆, I can and will (I didn’t but you get the point.) Anyways enjoy my personal thoughts on this matter

1. Himejima Gyomei

Is anyone fucking shocked that this 7’2 (220cm) man is packing the biggest schlong among the male Hashira?

I mean let’s be logical real quick, his dick is as big as the rest of him. This man’s dick is dragging on the floor.

Soft: 11.2

Hard: 12.3

Call it unrealistic idgaf this man is LONG

Girthy too, he’s fucking beefy all over

This man’s dick will feel like he’s shoving his wrist up in there ong bro

It curves downward slightly when hard, I mean shit that thing is heavy, it stands no chance against gravity

2. Uzui Tengen

Again, the man is 6’6 (198cm).

Height comes into play when it comes to our two tank Hashira

Therefore none of you should be surprised that they are the top two

Soft: 9

Hard: 10.3

Your guts are getting rearranged, he knows the length he has but often underestimates how far he can go…

He’s long but doesn’t have a crazy girth to him, which thank fuck it doesn’t take as much prep to take him

He’s pretty straight when hard and manages to flex it and keep it up (he totally does dick tricks & you can’t convince me otherwise)

3. Tomioka Giyu

I’m standing by my “big dick Giyu” head canon. I just know this man is packing a weapon down there

What’s crazy is he wasn’t even aware of how good he had it until he overheard other corps members chatting

Soft: 6.3

Hard: 7.4

He’s got a decent girth and as weird as it may sound, it’s pretty, like really pretty to look at

When hard, it curves upwards and stands at attention which makes him a bit embarrassed

He knows how to use it, because of that he’s pretty confident in that aspect which is wild for him

He will also rearrange your guts unintentionally (or intentionally hehe)

4. Shinazugawa Sanemi

I don’t wanna hear one PEEP from any of you that Sanemi should be above Giyu.

My man is forth on the list but that ain’t mean shit, he’s still got a lot going on down there

Soft: 6

Hard: 7

He’s girthy, will tear you up girth, needs thirty minutes of prep minimum because of how wildly he fucks girth

He sticks straight out, no curve in sight and honestly looks like he defies gravity.

He’s like Tengen, can do dick tricks. But unlike Tengen he doesn’t make that known / show you lmao.

He’ll break your back, he may even hurt you (fully unintentional) if he gets too into it. That thing is fr a weapon

5. Rengoku Kyojuro

He’s fifth on the list but trust me he’s not lacking

He’s second smallest, but he’s not small, if you get what I mean. It’s kinda like how we rank the Hashira weakest to strongest but regardless they are still the strongest in the corps… that make sense?

Soft: 5.8

Hard: 6.8

He curves upwards, very prominent veins running along his shaft (heh, shaft)

Girth wise, he’s about normal. Not too intimidating but def offers you a good stretch, forgoing prep is real bold tbh

He’s a quick learner so he quickly masters how to fuck you

He will strive to go as far as your body will let him, so expect to be bruised / sore

6. Iguro Obanai

My king. He may be “smallest” among the Hashira men, but that doesn’t mean shit.

He’s not self conscious of his dick, he knows how to use it. He’s also pretty content with it’s size

Soft: 5.6

Hard: 6.5

See? You can’t come for me cause he ain’t even SMALL

Obanai’s dick is pretty, too. It curves upwards slightly, since he’s pretty pale, his veins are prominent

He’s got an average girth, he doesn’t need to prep you forever to get you ready. Which works in his favor cause he likes to “punish” you with no prep & going in raw

He can and will abuse your cunt, he’s not satisfied until you genuinely can’t walk without limping for a few days