#Star Brand Beer

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

PRESENTING THE KIMONO STYLE & FLAPPER GIRLS OF RED STAR BRAND JAPANESE BEER.

PIC(S) INFO: In the lead-up to World War II, Japan was turning nationalistic and this may be why this 1937 poster features traditional Japanese dress again, as opposed to their graphic design choices in the 1920s and early 1930s when Japan was copying the fashions and styles of the West, as shown in the second poster.

Source: https://thriftytraveller.wordpress.com/category/japan/sapporo-beer-posters.

[mangled-by-disuse]

so one of the things that annoys me endlessly is this phenomenon where, when I say I like something, people assume that means I want more of it, a different version of it, add-ons and bells and whistles, and i'm just like

no.

no, when I say I like tea, I mean I like tea. Not herbal tisanes, not "tea with--", no milk, no sugar, no fruit, no frills, just good-quality tea in a range of fermentations and colours.

when I say I like a hot bath, I mean the bath. Not bubble-bath, not bath oils and foams and salves and unguents, not candlelight and music and a zen space to sensually relax with a book and a glass of wine, just a hot bath in a normally-lit bathroom where I can unwind and get clean.

when I say I like beer, I mean I like beer. Not fruit-flavoured, not with a special something-something added, for the love of GOD not sweetie-flavoured, just a well-brewed ale or stout in a simple pint glass, in good company.

and that isn't because there's anything WRONG with the add-ons! these are not bad things! I know that for some people, a tea advent calendar with different herbal blends, or a luxurious foamy scented bath with candles and music, is what they mean by "I like tea" and "I like baths". but it would just be nice if when I asked for a green tea, people didn't assume I mean "with..."

anyway this post is about lord of the rings: war of the rohirrim

[captain-acab]

a long time ago, in the au no one asked for...

Chancellor Friendpatine: Anakin, I'm clearing out space in my beer fridge. Want to kill the Yuenglings? (later) ...He did WHAT?!?

[johnbrand]

Being Proactive

“Hey princess, how about you go grab me a beer while we wait for everyone else to arrive.”

“Sure thing, Mario!” 

I ran inside as fast as I could, trying my best to hold back the smile that was threatening to escape. I could not believe how easily my plan was working. Ever since I caught that twisted, hungry bottom flirting with my boyfriend, I knew I had to take action. It was just fascinating how simple it all had been. 

My boyfriend was a solid-but-sensitive type, big and muscular but soft, which sometimes worked against him. He had not even noticed when Mario had batted his pretty eyelashes for him, or when the bottom pouted with a sickly sweet: “We should hang out more, I’m sure I’d make it worth your time.” But I had known the signs however, and I planned to be proactive. A simple search on the web led me to a solution I could only hope would do the trick.

It was some form of an incantation, performing rites onto an article of clothing with the necessary ingredients. Some rose-embedded candles, feathers of a raven, off-brand vinegar...all stuff I could easily find in the city. And once brought together, the ingredients were meant to create a migration ritual, transferring the essence of one person through an article of clothing onto another being. My plan was for Mario to be at the receiving end, absorbing the identity of my choosing.

And luckily for me, there was no better offering than my arrogant, womanizing older brother. Eric was a decent enough sibling growing up, although we had rarely spoken since my coming out. But overall, he was a different man on the streets. If he was not tackling another dude on the field, then Eric was surely tackling another chick into bed. Therefore, if I could imbed this same heterosexual passion into Mario, I knew I would never have to deal with him skankly attempting to steal my boyfriend every again. 

The set-up had been simple: a pool party with everyone supposedly invited. Of course, I had only reached out to Mario, and had neglected to inform him of the "pool" portion of the party. He was so thankful when I offered him my "spare" pair of speedos, taking the pink-patterned briefs from me without a second thought. He could have never known they had been soaking the entire night before in a brew with my older brother’s own sweat-stained boxers.

At first, the changes had not been evident, but eventually I began to witness the consequences of my actions. Mario had gradually grown taller, every minute having added an extra half-inch to his torso or legs. With this came the expansion of his muscles, defining the bottom’s once-lean figure with juicier, more defined features. 

Now approaching with the beer he had requested, I was able to take in even more changes that had happened while I had been inside. Hair had begun sprouting from Mario’s previously-shaven legs, and his queer mullet had tightened into a douchey French crop. I could even sense his attitude had shifted; Mario was no longer displaying his former star feature (his perky bottom), but instead showcasing his new pride (his literal, much larger pride).

“Good girl,” Mario taunted, chugging the whole can in one go. The teasing nicknames were new too. I should have been insulted, but I was too busy relishing in my success. What other attributes from my older brother would Mario soon absorb?

BUUUUUUUUURRRPP! “So how long until they get here anyway?” Mario groaned, tossing the crushed can aside. 

“Shouldn’t be much longer,” I replied without removing my eyes from him, hoping to witness another change.

Mario noticed my directed attention, assuming it was regarding the swimwear. “This wasn't all some plan to get me into a faggy speedo, was it? I'm beginning to think you wanted a real man like me all to yourself."

The accusation caused me to break, stunned at the rude remark. Mario smirked smugly. “What, something wrong, girly?”

“Yeah, what you're saying is insul-”

“Learn your place and go grab me another beer,” Mario ordered. “You don’t want me to have to get up, do you?”

Surprised and feeling a sudden loss of control, I turned away and made my way back to the kitchen. For the first time I began considering how Mario's conversion may have created an even worse monster than I could have imagined. My once proactive solution no longer appeared to be such.

[slu7formen]

MDNI. luke x drunk!reader

luke decides to take care of you when he notices how drunk you are a party, you didn’t know how much you needed him until he showed you so.

warnings: drunk!reader, protective!luke, lil violence, use of yn, allusion to s3x

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

The melody from a stolen radio emerged through the humid night air, barely audible over the loud laughter and shouted conversations of the older campers reunited in the woods. The stars offered little illumination, replaced by the flickering glow of a bonfire fueled by firewood. The air was heavy and hot, filled with the scent of chips, spilled beer, and teenage rebellion. This was a rare ocasion for the senior campers, a chance to forget about monstrous threats and drakon training for a night.

Luke nestled in the shadows of a nearby oak tree, holding a way too warm can of beer to drink now, and listened to his friends, trade their usual brand of mischievous gossip. A comfortable camaraderie settled over him, a welcome respite from the weight of responsibility that pressed down on him as a counselor.

"Did you see Lucy practically drooling over Malcolm after Ally dumped him?" Travis snickered, nudging Connor with his elbow.

Connor snorted, barely containing his laughter. "Ouch, sister drama. Ally must be thinking about drowning her in cheap perfume"

Luke chuckled, shaking his head. The Aphrodite cabin drama was always entertaining, even if a little predictable. He glanced around the clearing, his gaze sweeping over the other campers. A group of Ares cabin warriors were engaged in a play-fight, throwing each other to the ground as they groaned and laughed. He spotted Katie Gardner, daughter of Demeter, tending to a small patch of wildflowers. Even at a forbidden party, Katie couldn't resist nurturing something green.

"Hey, Luke" Chris nudged him, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You gonna tell us your big secret yet? We all know there's something going on between you and yn"

Luke's smile faltered slightly. "There's nothing to tell" he replied noncommittally, taking a swig of his warm beer, the taste bitter in his tongue. “We’re just friends”

"Oh, come on" Connor pressed, a sly smirk spreading across his face. "We see the way you look at her. Like she's the only girl alive."

Luke rolled his eyes, but a blush crept up his neck under the teasing of his friends. Suddenly, a melodic laugh cut through the din, a sound that sent a jolt through him. It was your laugh, bright and carefree, a stark contrast to the usual reserved demeanor you displayed around camp. He followed the sound, his gaze landing on you amidst a group of campers near the edge of the clearing. But it wasn't your presence that triggered a tightening in his chest. It was the hulking figure of Ares cabin resident, Mark, who stood far too close to you, his arm draped around your shoulder as he leaned in to whisper something that caused another burst of laughter from you.

A sting of jealousy pierced Luke´s insides. He knew it was silly. He and you were nothing more than friends. But still, that doesn’t mean he’s gonna like it when he sees you with some other guy. He watched as you swayed slightly, the red plastic cup clutched loosely in your hand a clear indication of your intoxicated state. Your usually sharp eyes held a glazed look, a vulnerability that made his protective instincts flare.

He saw you and Mark detach from the group, heading deeper into the shadowy woods. There was a part of him that urged him to let you be, to let you enjoy your night. But another, more primal part couldn't shake the image of you, intoxicated and unaware, disappearing into the woods with someone like Mark.

Sighing, Luke pushed himself off the tree trunk. “I´ll be back in a minute” he says to his friends, leaving his can on Travis´ hand. He weaved through the tight and large group of campers, his purpose hardening with each step. You stumbled on a protruding root, giggling at your own clumsiness. Mark steadied you, his hand lingering on your waist in a way that made Luke’s right eye twitch.

"Hey, yn" Luke's voice cut through the air, catching your attention. You turned, your face splitting into a wide, drunken smile.

"Luuuke!" you slurred, swaying towards him with open arms, nearly knocking him over with the force of your hug. Ignoring the glare Mark shot his way, Luke enveloped you in a hug, his nose crinkling at the distinct scent of fruit punch and something a little stronger.

"Whoa there" he chuckled as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He could smell the sugary sweetness of your lip gloss. "Easy, tiger."

You giggled, your head lolling against his shoulder. You mumbled something nonsensical, giggling at a private joke only you seemed to understand. Your mascara, usually neatly applied, had smudged slightly at the corners of your eyes. Despite the obvious effects of the alcohol, you were undeniably beautiful, the firelight casting warm shadows on your face. "M'so happpy you´re here! Dance with me!" you yelled as you lift your arms, your voice thick with intoxication. Luke felt a pang of worry. You were far too drunk to be alone in the woods with a boy you barely knew.

"Seems like you've had a few too many tonight, huh?"

"Just having a little fun, Luke" you pouted, the way you said his name sounded funny. "Don't be a all couns-, counselor"

He glanced over your shoulder towards Mark, whose jaw was clenched tight. "Yeah, well, maybe a little too much fun" Luke countered, his voice gaining a hint of firmness, but as softly as possible. "Maybe it's time for you to head back to your cabin, yeah?”

"But Mark was showing me…" you began, but were cut off by Mark's snide voice.

"Mind your own business, Castellan" He growled. Luke narrowed his eyes at the Ares camper, a dangerous glint flickering within them. “This doesn´t concern you”

"She's clearly not in control of herself" Luke retorted, his voice low and cold. "Someone needs to make sure she gets back safely. And it won't be you."

Mark scoffed, a humorless sound. "Says who? Why don't you worry about yourself, Castellan?"

The barb hit a nerve. Luke wasn't drunk, but the implication stung. He wasn't about to get into a debate about his tolerance with this ridiculously big guy.

"Look," Luke said tightly, trying to keep his voice calm, "I'm not trying to cause any trouble. I just—"

"Just what?" Mark interrupted, stepping forward, his chest puffing out in a show of dominance. "Going to swoop in and save the damsel in distress? You think she needs rescuing?"

He shot a pointed look at you, who seemed to be lost in your own world, giggling at some private joke as you covered your mouth. The sight of it only fueled Luke's simmering anger.

"Whether she needs help or not isn't the point" Luke growled, his voice strained. "The point is, she's clearly intoxicated and shouldn't be alone with someone she barely knows."

"Barely knows?" Mark echoed, a sneer twisting his lips. "We were just getting to know each other, weren't we, yn?"

He turned to you, his voice dripping with false sweetness. You blinked at him owlishly, then shrugged, a nonsensical answer escaping your lips.

The sight of it was too much for Luke. His fists clenched at his sides. He knew Mark was deliberately trying to get a rise out of him, but it was working. The implication that his concern was fueled by jealousy rather than genuine care was infuriating.

“Now if you excuse us…” Mark pointed out, pulling you to him by your hip as he tried to walk away with you.

But Luke´s had enough. That was the last straw. In a blur of motion, Luke lashed out. He lunged forward, his fist connecting with Mark's nose with a satisfying crunch. Mark stumbled back, roaring in pain, a hand flying up to his now-bleeding nose.

You, however, seemed oblivious to the sudden violence. You blinked at the scene in confusion, your brow creased in a frown as you looked at Mark. "What the-…" your words slurred, lost in the midst of your intoxication.

But before you could form a complete sentence, a wave of fury washed over you. You turned around, shoving Luke hard in the chest, sending him stumbling back a step. "What the fuck, Luke!" you shrieked, your voice laced with a venom that startled him. "Why do you always have to be all over me!?"

The words hit Luke like a physical blow. He wasn't angry at you, not truly. You were clearly out of it, the world a dizzy sight because of whatever it is that you drank. But the accusation stung. Here he was, trying to protect you from a situation you couldn't navigate in your current state, and you saw it as him controlling you.

"yn," he started again, trying to choose his words carefully. "I just-"

"Just what?" you shot back, your voice thick with slurred defiance. "Just what gives you the right to decide what I do?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. Luke's heart ached. You were upset, confused, and vulnerable – a dangerous combination amplified by the alcohol coursing through your veins.

You crossed your arms over your chest as you sniffed, walking past him fast, head down and all pouty. “You ruined everything” you mumbled, more to yourself than directly to him, but he still heard. Luke watched you go, a wave of despair washing over him. He'd messed up.

He glanced back at Mark, who was clutching his nose and glaring at him with a mixture of fury and grudging respect. "Look, man" Luke sighed, the fight momentarily draining out of him. "That was a cheap shot, I´m sorry"

Mark grunted, wiping blood from his face with the back of his hand. "Yeah, well, you got a nice fist, I must say."

There was a hint of grudging respect in his voice, perhaps because he couldn't deny that Luke's concern for you seemed genuine, or because if he recieved another punch, he'd need his nose surgically reattached.

"I wasn´t gonna do much either" he tried to defend himself. “She can´t even walk straight” Mark mumbled, ponting at you, then he turned away and disappeard into the shadows.

Luke glanced back at your retreating figure. He knew he needed to fix things with you, but for now, all he could do was hope you wouldn't hold his overprotective actions against him. He took a deep breath and started following you, determined to apologize and explain his actions once you were sober enough to listen.

Your walk was more of a drunken sashay, hips swaying precariously with each wobbly step. Luke watched you stumble away, a knot of frustration tightening in his gut. He knew you weren't thinking straight, the alcohol muddling your judgment and turning his concern into a controlling act in your eyes.

"yn" he called after you, his voice laced with a pleading he rarely used. "Wait a minute, please."

You ignored him, your focus solely on putting distance between you and Luke. He quickened his pace, catching up beside you.

"Seriously, stop it" Luke's voice was closer now. "You're going to fall on your face if you keep walking like that."

You stopped short, whirling around to face him. “Will you stop following me? This is embarrasing enough, Luke”

"Embarrassing?" Luke echoed, his voice rising in exasperation. "You're practically falling over drunk! You can't just walk around like this."

"I can handle myself" you slurred, puffing out your chest in a show of false bravery. You wobbled slightly, proving his point.

Luke sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Look…" he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "I'm not trying to be a jerk. I'm just worried about you. You're clearly hammered, and it's not safe for you to be alone."

You scoffed. "Safe? I'm not a little girl, Luke. I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, well, right now you can't even take care of your balance!" he retorted, his patience wearing thin. You wobbled again, nearly toppling over before catching yourself on a nearby tree trunk.

"Just stop following me, okay?" you slurred, your voice thick with a pout. "I don't need this from you"

He sighed as your trembling body swayed precariously, threatening to topple over at any moment. Luke knew arguing with you further would be pointless. You were a force of nature in your current state, fueled by both alcohol and indignation. He needed to take a different approach.

With a resigned sigh, he whipped his denim jacket off in one swift motion. Kneeling before you, he draped it around your waist, the familiar scent of him momentarily grounding you. You blinked at him, a flicker of confusion replacing the anger in your eyes.

"What are you—woah!" you yelped before you could finish your question. In a smooth, practiced motion honed from years of wrestling monstrous opponents, Luke scooped you up effortlessly, hoisting you over his broad shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

A surprised shriek erupted from your lips. The world tilted on its axis as you found yourself dangling upside down. The clearing erupted in laughter. A few of the campers who had been watching the whole scene unfold hooted and hollered, their amusement evident. "Careful with that one, Luke!" one of them called out, a wide grin plastered on his face. "Looks like she bites!"

Luke shot him a withering look, his jaw clenched. "Very funny" he muttered, ignoring the whistles and catcalls from the others. His focus was solely on you, the warmth of your body radiating against his back.

“You better put me down!" you shrieked, kicking your legs in the air in a futile attempt to dislodge yourself.

"Not a chance, Short Stuff" Luke called back.

"But I don't want to go back to my cabin yet! The party's just getting started!" You pounded your fists against his back, a feeble attempt at protest. "Seriously, Luke, put me down! I can walk perfectly fine!"

"Uh-huh, you´re right" he said sarcastically, walking down with your full weight on one shoulder as if you were as light as a feather.

You let out a frustrated groan, burying your face on his back. “This so embarrasing!” you cried. You hated that he was right. You were a mess, and the last thing you needed was to stumble around the woods in this state, potentially attracting unwanted attention.

Despite your annoyance, a strange sense of security settled over you as Luke carried you. The rhythmic thud of his footsteps against the earth and the warmth of his hands radiating against your legs as he held you were oddly comforting.

The walk to your cabin, however, was far from peaceful. You continued to mumble incoherent protests, punctuated by occasional swats at his back and what felt like an eternity of "Put me down!"s. But Luke remained undeterred, his jaw set in a determined line.

Finally, after what felt like an hour —but was probably closer to five minutes—, you reached your cabin. Relief washed over Luke as he gently lowered you onto the porch, careful not to jostle you too much.

You glared at Luke, your arms crossed defiantly across your chest. He couldn’t tell if your eyes were truly filled with anger of constantly trying to focus on his face so your world wouldn’t keep spinning.

"Well, aren't you prince charming himself, Mr. Castellan" you huffed, voice thick with a playful slur. "Kidnapping girls and all"

Luke, however, seemed unfazed. He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine despite yourself. "Just get in, sleepyhead" he countered, his eyes gleaming under the moonlight as he opened the unlocked door to your cabin.

You pouted, a childish expression along with the stomping of your feet on the wooden porch. "I could have walked!" you protested weakly, knowing full well it was a lie.

He ignored your protest, stepping past you and gently maneuvering you towards your bed, placing his hand on your lower back as you walked. The cabin was, as expected, empty. Your half-siblings, ever the social butterflies, were undoubtedly wreaking havoc at the party you were now forbidden to attend.

You felt lonely for a second, but it was quickly overshadowed by the warmth that spread through you as Luke helped you onto the bed. You wanted to be furious with him, to unleash the full force of your drunken anger. But the lingering warmth of his touch on your legs and back, the way he so effortlessly hoisted you like a defiant princess, somehow muddled your outrage. The thought was absurd and yet undeniably attractive.

He knelt down in front of you once you sat at the edge of your bed. You could smell the faint scent of woodsmoke and pine needles clinging to his clothes, a comforting aroma that filled your nosestrils instantly.

With a gentle hand, he reached out your calve and started unlacing your boots, his touch surprisingly tender. You watched him in a daze, your head spinning slightly. The world seemed to tilt on its axis again, everything blurring at the edges except for Luke's face. You watched him in fascination as he repeated the process with your other foot.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea washed over you. You squeezed your eyes shut and groaned, a weak sound that escaped your lips.

Luke, sensing your distress, immediately stopped what he was doing. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern as he placed one hand on your knee.

You opened your eyes, blinking slowly. "Yeah, just a little…" you trailed off, searching for the right word. "Woozy" you finally managed.

Then, he stood up and looked around. His gaze landed on a package of makeup wipes on your bedside table. Without a word, he picked them up and returned to stand in front of you.

"You might want to clean some of this off" he said, holding up a wipe and gesturing to the smudged mascara beneath your eye.

You were speechless. No one had ever offered to do something like this for you before. A warmth bloomed in your chest, chasing away the remnants of your anger.

He held the wipe out to you, but you didn't take it. Instead, you found yourself blurting out; "Can you do it for me?"

He didn't hesitate. He fully unfolded the wipe as he lowered to you just a little to continue the process of taking care of you, his touch tender.

He was wiping the makeup from your face with a meticulousness that surprised you. You sat there, mesmerized, feeling strangely vulnerable under his watchful gaze even though you kept your eyes closed. The alcohol, combined with the unexpected intimacy of the moment, had rendered you uncharacteristically quiet.

"You didn't have to punch him, you know" you mumbled, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

He kept as concentraded in his task as he was before. "Who?" he asked, though you both knew exactly who you were talking about.

"Mark" you clarified.

Luke sighed, going for your other eye. "He was… well, he was clearly taking advantage of your state" he explained patiently.

"How do you know?" you challenged, a sliver of defiance still clinging to your voice.

"Because I know you, yn" he said softly, his gaze locking with yours. "You think I would´ve done what I did if you were sober?"

His words hit you like a wave of realization. Shame washed over you, hot and prickly. You hadn't realized how vulnerable you were, how easily manipulated under the influence of your drink. “There we go” He stopped his movements eyes. “All clean” he announced as he placed the dirty wipes over your bedside table.

"I-, I'm sorry" you mumbled, looking down at your lap, playing with the edges of your miniskirt. "I shouldn't have pushed you like that."

He knelt down again, this time untangling his denim jacket from around your waist. As he spoke, his voice was laced with a quiet understanding. "Listen, I know you might be mad at me for… well, everything. But I wasn't trying to ruin your night. I was just worried about you. You were drunk… you are drunk” he said playfully, reaching out and squeezing your cheek as if you were a little kid. “and that Ares guy –, didn't exactly seem like he wanted to be nice, and I can’t handle that. You can´t go around with people you don´t know, you know better than that" his voice dropped again.

He was right, of course. You were a demigod, trained to be aware of your surroundings and the dangers that lurked in the shadows. Yet, tonight, you'd thrown all caution to the wind, blinded by the effects of vodka and fruit juice and the fleeting attention of a stranger.

A pang of guilt washed over you. You squeezed his hand, a silent apology for your earlier outburst.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze in return, his lips curving into a small smile. “Besides, we´re friends, right?”

The word felt cold, heavy with unspoken meaning. Friends. You and Luke. The idea was both familiar and exhilarating, a spark igniting somewhere deep within you. You didn´t say anything, but Luke didn´t need you to.

He stood up again and leaned down, surprising you by brushing a light kiss on your forehead. It was a chaste gesture, meant to be comforting, yet it sent a jolt of electricity through you.

"Go get some sleep" he said, his voice a low rumble. "I'll check on you in the morning."

He started to turn away, but before he could take a step, you reached out and grabbed his arm. "Wait" you stammered, your cheeks flushing crimson.

Luke turned back, a questioning eyebrow raised. In that moment, the alcohol-fueled bravado that had propelled you through the night seemed to evaporate. You were left with a newfound shyness, a sudden awareness of the intimate atmosphere that had settled between you.

"Can you..." you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "can you stay a little?"

Luke stared at you for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He didn't answer immediately. He stood there for a long moment, studying your face, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken emotions.

Emboldened by a newfound courage, you stood up from the bed. You were still a little unsteady on your feet, the remnants of alcohol making your movements slightly wobbly.

Reaching out, you stopped in front of him, his height suddenly a towering presence. You closed the gap between you two in a second. Now you were standing impossibly close, your body brushing against his.

Looking up at him, you were struck by how tall he seemed, how broad his shoulders were. A wave of dizziness washed over you as you registered the clean scent of his cologne, one that you hadn’t noticed before, a scent that suddenly seemed incredibly appealing.

"Luke" you whispered, your voice barely a breath, your eyes tracing the outline of his lips. "When did you get so tall?"

He chuckled softly, a low rumble that sent a delicious shiver down your spine. "Maybe you just haven't noticed before" he replied, his voice a husky murmur.

The playful banter momentarily broke the tension, but the air between you still crackled as heavy as it could. Your gaze drifted back to his lips, now so close you could almost feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

They were full, inviting, and in a moment of drunken bravery, you found yourself leaning closer, your lips hovering just a breath away from his. "You smell good" you mumbled, your voice slurred but filled with a newfound confidence.

Luke swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. He was dangerously close to you, the heat radiating from your body a tangible thing in the cool cabin air. His muscles tensed, a battle raging within him between concern and a growing desire.

You reached out and toched his thigh, your fingers brushing against the worn fabric of his jean. Slowly, teasingly, you trailed your hand upward, until you reached his belt, hooking one finger to it, and you pulled him even closer to you. The movement was subtle but undeniably provocative, sending a jolt of electricity through Luke's body.

He stood frozen, mesmerized by the sudden boldness you exuded. This wasn't the girl he knew, the playful friend who teased him mercilessly. This was a stranger cloaked in the familiar, and the effect was intoxicating.

His own breath came out in a ragged sigh. Every rational part of him screamed at him to step away, to put some distance between the two of you. You were clearly inebriated, and taking advantage of that wouldn't be right.

But another part of him, a more primal part, yearned to close the gap between you, just a breath away. He had always found you attractive, drawn to your quick wit and fiery spirit. But the line between friendship and something more had always felt too blurry to cross.

Now, with the inhibitions lowered by alcohol, that line seemed to have vanished entirely.

He leaned in closer, the space between your faces shrinking with each passing moment. The scent of your coconut perfume and something uniquely you filled his senses, further muddling his already clouded judgment.

"yn" he began, his voice husky, a warning more for himself than for you.

"Stay" you whispered, your lips still hovering tantalizingly close to his. The raw need in your eyes mirrored the war raging within him. “Stay and make me yours, Luke. Please”

His hand reached up, cupping your jaw as his gaze locked with yours. You tilted your head into his touch, a silent invitation.

"We can't do this, gorgeous” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "You're not sober”

"I don't care" you interrupted, your voice thick with a desperation that surprised even you.

Luke felt his resolve crumble. He wanted this, just as much as you did. The idea of kissing you, of finally exploring the feelings that had simmered beneath the surface for so long, of touching you, feeling you, was undeniably tempting.

But a sliver of sanity remained. He knew that taking advantage of you in this state would be a betrayal of your trust, something he wouldn't be able to forgive himself for.

"But I do" he countered, his voice firm yet gentle. "If I'm doing this with you, I want to do it right. When you're sober and can make a real choice. When you can remember"

A wave of disappointment washed over you, but a tiny voice in the back of your head, untouched by the alcohol's haze, whispered its thanks. He was right. This wasn't the way you wanted things to happen.

So you nodded slowly, a small pout forming on your lips.

"Alright" you mumbled, letting go of his belt loop. “Can you still stay a little longer, though?”

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. He leaned down and brushed a soft kiss to your cheek, the touch feather-light, sending another wave of warmth through you.

"Go to sleep, trouble" he chuckled, the sound warm and familiar.

You walked back onto the bed, a strange mix of disappointment and relief swirling within you. As you drifted off to sleep, Luke pulled a chair beside the bed and settled down, keeping a silent vigil over you.

You immediately fell asleep, your mind could be running as fast as it could, but your body told another story. He watched you sleep for a moment, then left and went back to the party.

On his way back, he couldn’t help it but smirk to himself, a gushing and warm feeling rushing on his chest as he realized how close he had you. How his feeling were not so oblivious to you, and now that he knew, he wouldn’t have to work so hard to have you, or hide any longer.

[spookysteddie]

That Friday Night

Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!fem!reader

read part one here

18+ MINORSDNI

cw: alcohol, drugs (weed and cocaine), clubbing, slight Dom!Eddie if you squint, possessive!Eddie, swearing, pet names, oral (fem!receiving), light choking, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, edging, creampie. (let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 4.3k (I'm so sorry)

a/n: First of all, I want to thank every single person who liked, reblogged or made comments about part one. I was shitting myself posting it because (like I said) this is not an original thought. I'd read a few and it gave me this wave of inspiration. I am very proud of this part. It's also a little long (sorry sorry sorry I couldn't stop) . Also I don't think I'll be doing a tag list? When I used to do that no one on the list would like the fic and it was a lot of work. I hope that is okay? Let me know if you want more! I love and appreciate all of you!

...

You weren’t the type of person who got shy. Your entire job is being in front of a camera, telling people what you like, what you wear, the type of music you listen to. You did brand deals and went on lots of trips with people you didn’t know. Public interaction was easy for you and you definitely enjoyed it. 

But being personally invited to your favorite band's concert (even if you had tickets already) as their frontman's personal guest? It makes you weak in the knees. 

Telling your team about the phone call went about as good as one would expect. Anna and Case frown at you while continuing to say ‘you could’ve let it go to voicemail and we could’ve handled it directly with his people. AND why did you have him send the information directly to you?’

They weren't necessarily wrong in being upset. There were plenty of ways a conversation like that could be twisted and fucked with, especially if, for whatever reason, someone was recording the phone call. It was very easy for them to manipulate and edit that kind of shit, and drama was the last thing you wanted. 

However, the rest of the week went by without an issue. The gossip magazines had moved on to something else (though there were a few who continued to speculate about your non-relationship with Eddie. You did your deals, and kept yourself busy. And by the time Friday rolled around you were hardly nervous. 

Or that’s what you kept telling yourself. 

“Bell bottom star pants. Absolutely,” Hana says from her place on your bathroom counter, practically in the sink. “With that black leather top you love AND the red leather jacket. Oh! Oh! Oh! And the red boots!” 

You put the outfit on, looking in the mirror, “you don’t think it’s too… stereotypical?” 

Hana looks at you through the mirror, “no such thing. You look great.” 

Hana was one of the few people in your life who’d tell you like it is. You could trust her to tell you if her gut feelings were off, or on. She was your best friend and one of the few people who weren’t just here for the exposure. She’s here to be your cheerleader and you were hers. 

“Alright, let's get this going before I change my mind which I am two seconds away from doing.” 

… 

You should’ve changed your mind. 

You can hardly keep from throwing up as you're led by security to a private entrance. To get there you have to pass by their tour buses. All you can hear is loud music and whooping from inside. It’s clear they’re running around in there as the bus is rocking and all you can do is pray they don’t see you. 

You’re far too sober for the interaction you’ll be having at this current time. 

Unfortunately for you, the universe hates you. Just when you think you’re home free, the door opens, almost smacking you in the face. 

“Don’t think you can get away that easy, Asher,” Eddie says as he looks down at you. His pupils are blown wide, clearly from whatever drug he’s consumed. More than likely cocaine and weed. His words aren’t slurred so he isn’t drunk, though he does have a beer bottle in his large hands. 

God his hands, there have been many times where you’d imagine them wrapped around your throat, cutting off air as he fucks you like he hates you. You bet he could reach you even as he’s eating you out, he’s so tall and long. 

You wish you could say the grin you shoot at him is fake, however with the way he’s looking at you, like he wants to devour and smother you, it's not. You feel like a fucking school girl who has a crush. Your heart pounds so fast in your chest and you swear everyone around you can hear it. 

“We weren’t running away,” you say, voice a little breathier than you’d like. “Um this is my best friend-” 

“Hana, nice to meet you,” he cuts you off. It’s then that you see his eyes get wide and you know he’s been stalking your profile. Not that you can say anything because you’ve done it… a lot. “I, uh, saw the instagram story you put up earlier.” 

Hana smirks, “sure you did, big boy.” She pats his chest and is clearly much braver than you. That’s another thing about you and her, if one of you is feeling not confident, the other makes up for it. Like, on your own, asking for ketchup feels like cutting off a limb, but if she can't do it then it's up to you and vice versa. 

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, his black t-shirt stretching over his wide shoulder, “want to join us? We have alcohol!” 

“We would love that. Wouldn’t we?” Hana looks down at you with her brows raised, still taller than you in heels. 

You nod, “yes. Yeah absolutely! Are we allowed to photograph in here?” 

You know it’s a stupid thing to ask, but you also don’t want to take a photo of you and Hana and then not be able to post it. And what if you get photos with the rest of the band? Everyone already knows you’re going to be here. Just not… in this tour bus. 

Eddie nods, holding out his hand, “you are allowed to do whatever you want, pretty girl. And if anyone has an issue, send them my way, yeah?” He kisses the hand you’ve placed in his before leading you up the stairs of his bus. 

It's chaos in there, pure and utter chaos. You turn to look at Hana, silently telling her how insane this is. She nods slightly, but you see the grin on her face. Hana loves this stuff; the parties, the madness, all of it.

Eddie introduces you to the band, pulling you in closer by the waist. “You all need to be on your best behavior. No one touches her. Do you all understand me?” Your heart flutters at how serious he is and it instantly forces his bandmates eyes to fall to your feet. It’s impressive, actually. 

Suddenly, a bottle of beer is in your hands, passed to you by Eddie. “Oh… thank you.” You can hardly look at him as a small smile forms on your lips. His attention makes you feel all kinds of funny inside, your stomach doing flips. You know you have to look at him eventually, but he’s just so pretty that it actually hurts. 

“Um, so are you excited for your show?” This time you manage to actually drag your eyes to his. He smiles at you, his teeth so beautiful and perfect. It’s when he sits down that you realize that was a stupid question. Of course he’s excited. This is his actual job. 

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he looks up at you through his lashes, you could kiss him. But you don’t for obvious reasons. Reasons you can't really think of at the moment. Not when he’s looking at you like that.  The beer bottle hangs in his right hand between his legs. 

“Very. Not much comes close to the feeling I get when we’re on that stage.” He shakes his head, curly hair moving with him, “plus, being able to hear people sing my songs back to me is fucking incredible.” 

His hand finds yours, pulling you a little closer. Eddie is testing the waters, you know this. Unfortunately for you, your brain can’t see through the cloud of lust. So, you let him pull you closer, sit you on his lap, and wrap an arm around you. 

Your brain does catch up, quicker than expected. “It seems like it’d be incredible. I applaud you cause I could never do that. I have stage fright.” 

He blinks up at you, “stage fright? Haven’t you done red carpet interviews and stuff?” 

You shift a little, shrugging, “well yes. But that’s different.” You can't stop the awkward laugh that comes out of you. It was true, it was different. You weren’t exactly sure why but it was. 

Eddie's thumb moves along your side slightly and it leaves goosebumps in its wake. 

“I’m being honest, the lights are so bright that I can’t see everyone in the crowds. Mainly just the front rows. Makes it easier.” 

Eddie puts his beer bottle on the ground by his feet before sitting up and grabbing a joint. He’s quiet as he lights it, puffing out smoke to get it going. “Want some?” 

He holds the joint towards you, waiting for your answer. You’ve done this before at the frat houses at college. You’ve done it here and there in high school as well. This is second nature, but this time you’re nervous. What if you forget how to inhale? What if you throw up? Any number of things can happen. 

Something happens inside you and your brain finally catches up to itself. A small stroke of confidence happens and without taking your eyes off of him, you lean forward, wrapping your lips around the joint and inhaling. His eyes stay locked on yours, his tongue wetting his lips. You pull back, slowly blowing out the smoke. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” It comes out in a whisper and you know he didn’t mean to say it out loud. His eyes falling from your eyes, to your lips and back again. 

God you want to kiss him. His pillowy lips would feel amazing against yours, you just know it. You start to lean into him, desperate to know if you’re right.   

A bang on the door scares the fuck out of the both of you and Eddies boot knocks over his bottle. It’s a good thing he drank most of it, the contents not spilling on the plush carpet. 

“Let’s get going guys. Put your dicks back in your pants, we have a show to do.” You know that voice, that’s their manager. He’s the one who called your people to make sure you had all the rules for this evening. 

Photos are fine. 

Everyone must be tagged. 

Nothing negative. 

Absolutely no photos of any white substances. Even if it’s sugar. 

That last one would be hard considering it was on every flat surface in neat, clean lines. 

You go to stand up, but Eddie stops you, his hand tightening on your hip. “Promise I’ll see ya after?” 

You nod, “y-yeah of course.” 

Before you know it, his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft, sweet and you don’t want it to end. In fact, you totally forget about all the other people in the room. Your hands find his face, pulling him closer as his tongue begs for permission. And once you grant it, it’s game over. 

He tastes like beer and weed and cigarettes and you love it. You want more. You want to get closer. 

But it’s not long before the door to his trailer opens up, his manager stepping into the bus. “I said get your dicks and tongues together. We cannot be late.” 

… 

By the time the show is over you barely have a voice, and you’re sure you’ve never been more turned on in your life. It might seem silly to say, but Eddie's kiss lingered the entire show and all you want is more. 

Back stage the band is still running on adrenaline, drinking water for once to try and refuel for the rest of the night. The rest of the night being a club that they frequent. A club you don’t go to because of that exact reason. 

“Ohhhhh! There's the prettiest girls I’ve ever laid eyes on!” Eddie's voice booms as security goes to double check you and Hana. “Hey! Leave them alone. They’re with me.” 

Security stands back, hands raise like he knows it’ll cause more issues if he doesn’t. You almost feel bad for the poor guy, he was just trying to do his job. Like what if you had a bomb or something? 

“C’mon we gotta get outta here.” He laces his fingers with yours before he pulls you along with him. You look over your shoulder, catching Hana's eyes. 

Go! She mouths, hanging off Gareth's arm. I’ll meet you there! 

And so, you go. Are you nervous? Yes absolutely. Are you going to pretend you aren’t and have some confidence? Yes. Fake it till you make it right?

Eddie opens the door to the car, extending a hand, “ladies first.” 

You grin at him as you elegantly slide into the car, “wow. I didn’t know you were such a gentle man.” This time when you giggle, it's cute and self assured. 

“Yes, I have been told my entire life that I look,” he slides in sucking in a soft, thinking breath, “mean and scary.” 

“You look like a doberman but they’re precious babies.” You mean it too. He looks a little mean and scary, especially in the red lights of the stage. Not to mention the “devil music” (says the media) which can get a little dark. But that’s what makes it great, in your opinion. Plus, he does look like doberman. Like he could probably kill you but would actually not? 

“‘Precious babies?’” 

You nod, “mhm! I grew up with them. Very sweet and love kisses. Oh! And they each had their own comfort toys.” 

“Then maybe I am one because I do love kisses.” He’s closer now, his breath fanning over your face. He still smells like beer and cigarettes mixed in with the smell of his cologne. 

It’s your turn to close the gap and planting your lips on his. The kiss is hotter, more intense. One could argue it’s because of the alcohol swimming in your system that makes you so bold. You’re buzzed, but not drunk. It isn’t long before his hands are in your hair, tugging. It makes you moan in his mouth, opening up to him. 

He sits back, his hands in your hair pulling you with him, making you sit in his lap. Your legs rest on either side of his hips, your cunt nestled right against the bulge in his pants. He couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to. You test the waters by rocking your hips, the friction being so sweet that you’re the one who lets out a moan. 

“God, that is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.” He kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. “Should record it and use it in our next song.” 

You hum and grin, “I wouldn’t mind that. Always wanted to be in a song. Can’t sing though.”  

He nips at your ear, “that’s my job baby.” 

Eddie's large hand grips your hips, stopping your movements. You want to whine, you want to protest. You were so fucking close. 

“We’ll save that for when we're back at my place.” 

You grin and kiss along his jaw, “who says I’m going back to your place?” 

“The way you were just grindin’ against my cock, angel.” He grins, “also with how you’re lookin’ at me.” 

“And how am I looking at you? Hmm?” 

“Like you want me to fuck you while your brain leaks out your cunt.” 

You shudder at the crudeness of his words. No one has ever spoken to you like that and looked like him. The car stopping in front of the club saves you from trying to come up with an answer. One you know will either be embarrassing or non-existent. 

He looks over at the paparazzi that is waiting and sighs, “are we going in together or…” 

The decision you make is quick. If you’re going to do this, even for one night, you’re going to do it together and let them talk. You give him a quick kiss, “together. Give ‘em something to talk about, yeah?” 

So, you do. 

The second you’re out of the car, cameras flash and photographers call out a mix of your name and his and you can hardly understand what they’re saying. You don’t stop to pose, letting them only photograph you and him walking hand and hand. Give them crumbs as your manager says. Once you’re in the club, not even needing to show an ID or give a name. 

From there the night happens in a blur. The band has the VIP section where bottles of expensive liquor are brought over by women dressed in a bikini. You know how much all of this costs (more than you can afford that’s for sure) but you also know that all of this is on Eddie and the bands tab. He’s told you six times. 

So you drink. And you smoke. And you watch pretty white lines disappear, most of which disappear up Eddie's nose. Of course you take videos, vlogging your night and making sure to follow all the rules that were set prior to this meeting. Taking photos to remember the night. Hana is having a blast, taking shots like it’s her job and making out with Gareth in between. Of course she takes photos with you, sitting in your lap and giggling so much the photos come out blurry. But those are your favorite kinds of photos. 

“Dance with me?” Eddie says in your ear over the music. 

You take the shot that is in your hands, “lead the way.” 

The second you’re surrounded by sweaty bodies you feel invisible. You’re sure someone has cameras on you and him but at the moment you don’t care. 

Your hips move to the music, back against Eddie's chest while his hands explore your body. His lips move against your neck, sucking a dark mark into it that you know you’ll struggle to cover later. Again, you don’t care. What you do care about is the hardness that you feel against your back. 

You spin around, grinning up at him. God he’s so fucking tall you have to tilt your head up a good bit to look at him. 

“We should get out of here,” you say as he pulls you into him. 

He smirks, “thought you weren’t coming back to my place sweetheart.” 

“Seems I told a fib. Now, I need you to take me home and fuck me like you hate me.” 

It’s all he needs before he’s grabbing you by the hand and pulling you out of the club. The car is there and he quickly pulls you into the back seat. Once those doors are closed, the window tint so dark you couldn’t see inside if you tried, his mouth his on yours. Your stomach flips and the neediness you feel coming off of him. He pulls you till you’re straddling him, legs on either side of his hips. Not really the safest but at this point, all you need is his lips on you. 

The ride to Eddie’s consists of lots of kissing, so much so that you know your lips are swollen. You don’t get to see much of Eddie’s house, too focused on getting inside the house and into his bedroom. He drags you up the stairs, your hand is his. And once you’re in his room, he has you pressed up against his bedroom door. 

“You’re so fucking hot, baby.” Eddie pushes your jacket off your shoulders while he speaks, his words going straight to your clit. Your mind can barely comprehend that Eddie Munson, the man you’ve had a crush on since they were considered an ‘underground band,’ is currently taking off your clothes. 

You do the same to him, pushing his leather jacket to the ground before tugging at the ends of his shirt and pulling it over his head. “Me? You are so beautiful.” 

He hums, popping the button on your jeans, “should we take a poll on who's prettier? Winner takes the loser on a date?” 

That makes you laugh, “sounds like a deal. But first, you need to fuck me.” 

His eyes nearly go black at that and before you can think, he’s throwing you on this bed. You land with a small oomph. You decide to take a little initiative, pulling off your boots, scooting off your pants and pulling off your top. 

Eddie watches, rapt and almost possessed, his eyes scanning your partially naked body. It’s not anything more than someone would see if you posted in a bathing suit, but you can’t help but feel nervous that he isn’t going to like you. 

He quickly puts those fears (fears he knows nothing about) to rest as he settles between your legs. His eyes don’t leave yours as he kisses up your thighs. You know there is a wet patch on your underwear and you know he can see it. You do feel embarrassed about it, but at the same time, Eddie is slightly rutting against the bed so he must like it. Right? 

You can feel your body heat as he gets closer and closer to your center. 

“Eddie, please don’t tease me.” Never have you begged a man. Typically whoever you were in bed with did the begging, much to your dislike. You were desperate for someone to take charge. Now you know why they didn’t. One bruise and they get shit from all your followers. Even if you tell them to leave these men alone. 

But Eddie? He wasn’t afraid. 

“But it’s so much fun to watch you squirm.” 

You huff, squirming exactly like he said as he sits up to pull your underwear down your legs before setting back between them. “Need you to touch me.” 

He licks a stripe up your slit, sucking on your clit as he gets to the top. The sound that falls from your lips is beautiful, sweeter than the sound you made in the car. Now Eddie really wants to put you in a song, but the jealous, primal side of him never wants someone else to be able to hear your moans. 

In fact, he doesn’t want to think about any of the other men who’ve heard you make these sounds. Murder wasn't really on his list of things he enjoyed. Bar fights? Yes. Murder? No. 

“You make the prettiest sounds, sweetheart. S’very hot.”  He slides two fingers inside you with little resistance, curling them up to hit the spongy spot inside you. The stretch feels good, your hips moving on their own, riding Eddie's fingers. 

You're close, the build up of this moment really getting closer than you originally thought. “Squeezin’ my fingers so tight, baby. Are you close?” 

You nod, afraid if you speak you’ll say something ridiculous. 

But that isn’t good enough for Eddie. “Words.” 

“V-very.” 

That was clearly the wrong thing to say because he pulls his fingers from inside you, the emptiness making you gasp, “no! No, no, no I was so close!” 

He laughs as he pushes his pants and boxers off his body. “Exactly. Want you to cum with my cock inside you.” 

You look down between your bodies and your eyes widen. He was big and you accidentally voice what you’re thinking, “fuck… not gonna fit.” 

His laugh drags your eyes back to him, his cock moving through your slick and bumping your clit. “Baby you are so wet that I have no doubt it’ll fit.”  

You don’t have time to be embarrassed about it because Eddie is pushing inside you. The size of him stretching you makes you feel like he’s going to split you in half. But you don’t care, the burn just turns you on more and more and before you know it he’s seated inside you fully. 

“Fuck, Eddie.” 

Eddie is panting, trying to keep still so he doesn’t cum before he wants to. “Feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. A man could become obsessed with this pussy.” 

He moves right as you begin to speak, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs. He feels like he’s everywhere. “W-witchcraft” 

He fucks you harder, his cock hitting your cervix. You’re definitely going to have a bruise there but it's so worth it. 

“Didn’t know you were into dark shit. S’my schtick.” 

You wrap your legs around him, orgasm building again, “more alike than you originally thought huh?” 

He wraps a tattooed hand around your throat, squeezing gently and making your head spin, “oh, angel, I knew how alike we were the second you told everyone how bad you wanted to fuck me.” 

“C-can you blame me? Knew you’d fuck me just h-how I like.” 

You clench around him making him hiss, “yeah you need someone who will take control huh?” 

The hand around your neck slides down your body till he finds your clit, circling it. 

“Oh god! Please.” 

“I can get used to you prayin’ to me.” His thrusts are losing rhythm (something he’s usually very good at keeping) and you know he’s close. “Cum baby. I need it.” 

And it’s all you need to fall over the cliff and into bliss. He follows you, coming inside you while you squeeze around him. You both moan each other's names and you sigh as you come down. 

Eddie breaks the silence first, “that was… amazing.” 

You hum in agreement as he slides out of you and curls up beside you. You take a moment before getting up and cleaning up in the bathroom. When you come back Eddie has left out an old Corroded Coffin t-shirt and some boxers. And once they’re on, you slide back into his bed, laying your head on his chest.

“We should put that poll up, huh? I’m itching to win this bet.” Eddie laughs as he says it and before you know it, you two are finding a photo the both of you like and posting it on your story with the caption, ‘which one is prettier? Honesty is the best policy.’ 

“And now… we wait.”

[missaengg]

Gojo F*xxing Satoru

Day 12 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Jujutsu Kaisen | Gojo Satoru x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, fluff, first time, virginity loss, big dick, cunnilingus, p in v sex, alternate universe - grad school, porn with some plot Prompts: First Times | "Where do you want me to cum?" A/N: How did this take me two and a half days to write?!?! Slightly off schedule for the rest of Kinktober, but will probably skip a few prompt days to even this out. May circle back after October 31 to finish any missing prompts, but we shall see :) ao3 link here.

Gojo Satoru was the bane of your existence. 

Literally the bane of your fucking existence.

Because he was fucking perfect.

It was aggravating just how perfect he was: born to a wealthy family, star athlete, valedictorian, scouted by the top law firms in the country, all without breaking a sweat. Gojo Satoru had everything, the money, the jobs, the grades, the looks… the women.

It was disgusting how many women threw themselves at him, not that you could blame them. Not really. If you were anybody else, but you, you’d probably throw yourself at him too.

But you weren’t just anybody else. You were the perpetual number two. The salutatorian. No matter how hard you tried, how hard you studied, how hard you persevered, you could never hold a candle to Gojo fucking Satoru, not even in a mock courtroom arguing for or against a case.

So it was absolutely baffling when Gojo Satoru started pestering you. Out of all the women at Jujutsu Law College, the most prestigious law school in the country, which you worked your butt off to get into, you.

At first you thought it was just a coincidence. You attended the same law school. You had a fair number of shared courses. It was only logical you would interact with one another at some point during your grad school career, but then it became frequent, a multiple-times-a-day daily occurrence. You went to lunch in the school cafeteria – never on a fixed schedule… bam, Satoru… you went to the gym after a full day of classes to work out… bam, Satoru… you went to the gym mid-day because you had a free period – when you knew for a fact Gojo Satoru had class… bam, Satoru… you started the only internship offered to you at some small, no-name law firm… bam, Satoru.

It was getting to the point that you actually thought he might be stalking you with how frequently you ran into him around campus, off campus, way you-need-a-fucking-car-to-get-to off campus. It was uncanny and disturbing. 

And of course every time you ran into him, he would relentlessly tease you with that ridiculous smirk of his, calling out to you as soon as he spotted you with his infuriating, “Yo, salutatorian” or “Yo, number two”, beelining towards you to brag about how he scored higher than you in Torts or Corporate Law or whatever other course you shared with him, ruffling your hair or resting his arm on the top of your head because, of fucking course, he was also freakishly tall. 

Seriously, how could one person be so goddamn perfect?

It was one of those nights, when you were out with your best friend of two decades and fellow law school classmate, Ieiri Shoko, at some obscure, dingy bar that offered Thursday, ladies only, one dollar beers, where you again happened to see Gojo fucking Satoru striding in with his shock of unruly white hair, those stupid dorky sunglasses he wore all the goddamn time, and his usual expensive, brand name, black bomber jacket over a pristine white T-shirt.

You caught him in your peripheral, groaning as you saw his face light up when he caught a glimpse of you, making his way over easily through the crowd, which parted like the red fucking sea for him, that shit-eating grin plastered devilishly on his stupid handsome face.

“Oh, shit. Isn’t that Gojo?” Shoko asked, poking you incessantly.

You irritably sighed, swatting Shoko’s hand away. “Yes,” you replied flatly, glowering at your beer, your hopes of one fucking day without seeing your academic rival dashed to pieces.

“Yo, number two!”

God fucking damnit.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“I should be saying the same to you,” you muttered darkly into your beer.

“Yo, Ieiri.”

“Hi, Gojo.” Shoko greeted him, but you knew her well enough to hear the squeal of excitement hidden under the smooth facade of her greeting.

You didn’t have to see Shoko’s face to know how brightly her eyes were shining, trying to catch yours subtly without giving herself away. You downed the rest of your beer, knowing you were going to need another one – or four – to deal with Gojo Satoru’s shit tonight.

“Whatcha drinking?”

You almost spat out your beer. Gojo’s face loomed right in front of yours, so close you could make out the black specks in his brilliant clear blue eyes peering at you over his sunglasses.

“What the fuck, Gojo?!” you choked out, coughing, having swallowed the beer before you sprayed him, but having swallowed so quickly a portion of it went down the wrong tube.

“Satoru.”

“Gojo,” you stressed, pushing his forehead back with your finger, “do you mind?”

“Satoru.” He pouted, but thankfully withdrew. “Whatcha drinking?”

“Pilsners,” Shoko interjected, not fully understanding what exactly was happening between the two of you, but understanding enough to be amused.

“I got next round.”

You exhaled as you watched him walk away.

When did you even start holding your breath?

“So…”

“Don’t.” You glared at Shoko, who had the most sly, impish twinkle in her eye, warning her not to continue.

“What’s going on with you and Gojo?”

You sighed heavily, a regular occurrence whenever Gojo Satoru was involved, bringing your glass to your lips, grimacing when you remembered you were out of alcohol. “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“Shoko…”

Shoko looked at you innocently, shrugging as if she had no idea what you were going on about. “I’m just saying… it looks like he’s flirting with you.”

You snorted. Flirting with you. Hilarious.

“He’s not flirting with me. He’s torturing me. Rubbing in my face how I’m just ‘number two’.”

“Mm… that’s not what it seems like to me. You don’t buy beers for someone you’re torturing.”

“You do if you’re flaunting your wealth,” you darkly quipped.

“At some dingy bar on one dollar beer night? Yeah, big spender.”

You massaged your temples with your middle finger and thumb. “Shoko, can we not?”

“Fine.” Shoko threw up her hands, backing off albeit reluctantly. “I’m just saying. You don’t treat someone like that unless you like them”

You scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Gojo Satoru liking you? Please. There was no way Gojo Satoru had a crush on you. That was ridiculous. He had a majority of the women at Jujutsu Law College falling over their feet for him, why would he want you? 

Not that you wanted him either.

Something cold pressed against your cheek.

“Pilsner for my salutatorian?”

Gojo Satoru was holding a new, full pint of beer up against the side of your face. Scowling not-so-subtly, you reached for the glass. While you were loath to accept something from Gojo Satoru, beer was beer, and it would be a crime not to drink it.

And god could you use it.

“Ah, shit,” Shoko suddenly exclaimed. “I forgot I had a thing.”

You frowned. “Thing? What thing?”

“The thing.” Shoko gestured with her hands. “The thing I told you about. The thing.”

You stared at her, confused as to what she was going on about. “What thing? You’re the one who wanted to come out tonight.”

Shoko pulled on her jacket, gathering her phone and her purse. “I gotta go. Gotta go do the thing.”

“What– You’re leaving me on my own in some dingy ass bar?” You narrowed your eyes at her accusingly, fairly certain that she did not actually have a thing that she needed to attend to.

Shoko gave you a lopsided grin. “But you’re not alone. You’ve got Gojo.” She turned to the freakishly tall, laidback individual beside you. “You’ll make sure she gets home, yeah?”

“Of course.”

“Great.” Shoko hugged you, bringing her mouth to your ear. “Have fun.” She pulled away, giving you a wicked grin and a wink, leaving you gaping after her as she disappeared into the crowd.

What the fuck just happened?

Did Shoko seriously just abandon you, leaving you alone with Gojo fucking Satoru in some bar?

You chugged your beer, finishing it in record time before Gojo Satoru even had a chance to start drinking his.

“Uh… You sure you can handle that?” 

He was observing you, his arrogant smirk still present, his own glass halfway to his lips, but there was a hint of something else, something unfamiliar and foreign, something… soft? 

No, not soft. Knowing him, it was probably something condescending like pity or belittlement.

“I can handle it,” you snapped, and eyeing the second beer in his other hand, you added, “Is that Shoko’s beer? You gonna drink it?”

You reached for the extra beer, but he held it above his head, way out of your reach. 

“Nuh uh. I don’t think you can handle it, lightweight.” 

He was looking down his perfect, chiseled nose at you, the taunt blatantly apparent on his face, mocking you.

“Believe it or not, Gojo, I can handle my alcohol so will you please…” you stood on your toes swiping for the beer, “... just give…” you jumped, “...me the goddamn…” another swipe, “...beer!”

You lightly panted, having failed to procure the beer you wanted from above his head. 

Seriously, how was he so fucking tall? 

Even on the very tip of your toes, the top of your head barely came to his chin

“Satoru.”

Exasperated, you lost it, yowling like a feral cat, your brows knitting together, creating deep, firm grooves on your forehead. “What. Does. It. Matter?”

Gojo finished his beer, placed the glass down on a nearby table, and then flicked you square in the forehead.

“Ow!” you yelped, rubbing furiously at the red mark you were sure was growing above your brow. “What the hell, Gojo?”

Gojo sighed. “Sa–to–ru. And it matters to me.” He ruffled your hair, turning your carefully blow dried curls into a tangled mess.

You dodged his hand, glaring at him. “You don’t tell Shoko to call you Satoru.”

“Ieiri’s not you.”

Scowling, you brushed your fingers through your hair, trying to undo some of the knots he created. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it means.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense, you’re the thick one for not getting it.”

Gojo brought Shoko’s beer – your beer – to his lips, downing the entire pint in three large gulps. 

Watching his Adam's apple bob up and down, something in you finally snapped, all the moments of him relentlessly taunting you about being second place, teasing you about how short you were, stalking you around campus, one-upping you in mock court runs, all erupting into an explosion of something downright deranged.

“Gojo–”

“Satoru.”

“Gojo, for the love of god, shut up.”

You grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, and with as much strength as you could muster, hauled him towards you crashing his lips down onto yours. Gojo froze for a second, stunned, before pushing back, lips moving against yours with a hungry intensity. His tongue darted along the crevasse between your closed lips demanding to be let in, and you acceded, parting your mouth for him to slip in. The kisses deepened, your fingers curling even tighter around the fabric of his jacket, breathless sighs escaping in between kisses. Somewhere in the torrent of kisses, his sunglasses came off and his hands found themselves twisted in your hair, intertwining your curls between his fingers.

Breaking for air, you released your hold on Gojo’s jacket, rocking back on your heels and pulling away, keeping your eyes averted towards the ground.

Fuck. Just… fuck. What the fuck have you done?

Biting back a self-deprecating groan, you closed your eyes, taking a shaky deep breath in and letting it out slowly.

“Gojo,” you hesitantly started, threading your fingers together, for the first time in your life, not quite sure what you wanted to say to him. None of your bravado remained. All you knew was that you would have to see him again on Monday in class, and the last thing you needed was for things to be awkward or for him to hold whatever this was over your head.

“It’s Satoru.”

Your eyes snapped to Gojo’s as he spoke. There was a forceful edge to his husky voice, a commanding presence, one that he rarely displayed outside of the courtroom. Your breath hitched at the way he was just staring at you, his eyes dark and turbulent, storming with need and want.

“Sa–” you cleared your throat, the feel of his first name foreign in your mouth, “Satoru.”

Satoru acknowledged you with a hum of approval, the corners of his lips flicking up into the start of what could be a smile.

Your mouth felt parched. You were shivering at how intensely he was staring at you, at how his hypnotizing cerulean eyes were reeling you in, mesmerizing you until everything other than the infuriating man in front you faded away.

He grazed his lips along the outline of your shoulder and up your neck until they reached your ear, electric tingles crawling from where he touched, jolting down your spine. “You wanna get outta here?”

You nodded slowly. Your mind was hazy and dazed, drowning in Satoru’s eyes, barely able to put together a single intelligent thought to save your life.

How have you never noticed just how gorgeously blue his eyes were before? 

“Come on.”

Satoru took your hand, interlocking your fingers between his. Your hand felt so small in his hand, cradled in his broad palm, his body heat radiating up your arm. 

The tension between the two of you was thick and supercharged, heavy and tumultuous, on the verge of a catastrophic eruption – coming out of the bar, in the taxi ride back to your apartment, in the elevator going up to your floor, down the hallway to the door of your unit, as you input your code into the lock and the door clicked open.

When the door opened, it was like a switch flipped in Satoru’s brain. His lips were on you faster than you could react, tasting you with his tongue, nibbling on your bottom lip. His dizzying onslaught of kisses came so rapidly, you barely had the presence of mind to make sure you closed your front door and locked it before stumbling through the foyer, wrapped in his embrace. 

Keeping his lips locked with yours, he fumbled to remove his jacket, yanking his arms out of the sleeves, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. Your fingers teased the hem of his shirt, slipping under and feeling his muscles ripple under your fingertips, feeling for the first time just how lean he was.

Holy fuck.

You knew he was muscular. You’d seen him engaging in casual sports with other members of your law class, seen the hem of his shirt ride up when he raised his arms or wiped his face, but feeling it for yourself was different than just catching accidental hints.

Feeling your hands grabbing at his torso, Satoru tugged his shirt off, also throwing it to some random corner of your apartment.

“Where’s the… bedroom?” Satoru murmured in between kisses, tugging at your waist, grabbing a handful of your hair.

You burst into laughter, continuing to kiss him as you shook against his chest. “Satoru, I live in a studio.” Maneuvering him towards the wall, you flipped the switch flooding the room with light.

Satoru blinked, squinting as his eyes re-adjusted to the light, pausing from his titillating ravishment of your lips to quickly survey the small room you called your home.

“My bed’s over there,” you whispered, guiding his chin in the direction of your modest double-sized bed.

Satoru hiked you up without warning, forcing you to wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist, an unexpected yelp squeaking out. He strode over to the bed, covering the distance quickly given how long his legs were, and tumbled onto the soft mattress with you still in his arms, beginning another dizzying wave of an unyielding assault of his lips, but this time they roamed down your neck, along your collarbone, planting themselves on every inch of exposed skin he could reach. 

His lips were like fire on your skin. 

Your legs were hooked around his thighs, and your hips ground into him every time he lit another part of you on fire, evoking small groans from Satoru.

“Take my shirt off,” you breathlessly moaned into him, wanting to feel his body heat burn against your bare skin.

Satoru was only happy to oblige, removing himself from you only long enough to pull both your shirt and bralette over your head and to admire your heaving chest. He cupped them in his large hands, planting his needy mouth over your pert nipple. 

Ah, fuck. 

An electric zing ripped through you when he rolled your sensitive peak gently with his teeth. 

Oh heavenly fuck.

His hands were kneading, pinching, squeezing, while his mouth was pulling, biting, sucking, and the combination had you writhing in his hands. Your hips were gyrating into the firm bulge in his jeans, the friction against your pelvis delectable. 

“Fuck, saluta–”

“You know my name, Satoru.”

Satoru groaned your name, a shaky growl on the edge of the last syllable, shuddering when your hips jerked and painfully dragged along the length of his clothed erection. “Fuck, I wanna taste you.” He reached for the waist of your tight jeans, undoing the button quickly, pulling down the zipper, sliding his hand under the fabric.

Your eyes, which were closed in euphoria, snapped open, and in a panic, you grabbed his wrist before he could delve even further. 

“Wait.”

Satoru stopped. He looked up from where he had just been worshiping your chest, brows furrowed with concern. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s–” You bit your lip, the words sitting heavily in your throat.

“What’s wrong?” Satoru propped himself up higher, the hand on your stomach rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

“I’ve…” you took in a shaky breath, “I’ve…”

Supporting himself on one forearm, Satoru cupped your cheek, his gorgeous, azure blue eyes peering down at you softly. “What is it?”

You swallowed, finding yourself drowning in those stupid eyes again, your stomach in knots from the anxiety of the words you were about to say. “I’ve… never done this before.”

His brows wrinkled, not following what you were trying to convey. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never done–” you gestured to his lap “–this before.”

“I don’t under–” Satoru’s eyes widened, the meaning of your words hitting him. “Oh… Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You felt yourself blush seeing his reaction to your admission. You chewed on your bottom lip, anxiously wanting him to say something. Anything. You had never admitted this to anyone before, not even Shoko, though she likely already knew that you were still a virgin. She did have a front row seat to all of your sparse romantic entanglements.

Gojo Satoru for the first time in all the time you’d known him was silent.

“S’toru?” you hesitantly asked, prodding the stunned man hovering above you.

He blinked, coming out of whatever trance he was in, an expression you couldn’t read crossing his face. “We can stop if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

“You sure?”

You nodded, holding your breath.

“You’ve had a couple of drinks, I don’t think–”

You scoffed. “Satoru, I’m not drunk, let alone tipsy.”

“I– Are you sure?” 

You looked straight into his eyes. “Yes. I want to do this.”

In all the years of wondering when and how you would lose your virginity, you never imagined it would be like this. With him. But you did want this. Badly. You wanted him right here, right now, virginity and rivalry be damned.

“You won’t regret this?”

Jesus Christ, even when he was tender he was infuriating.

You threw your head back, a long, drawn-out, frustrated groan exploding out of you. “Oh my god, Go– Satoru, no, I will not regret this. Will you please just fuck me?”

Satoru blinked, and then he was capturing you in a passionate, toe-curling kiss, caressing your cheek. He sat upright, sliding the last remaining articles of your clothing down your legs, grazing you softly with his fingertips, and then he sat there, mouth open, drinking in the sight of you under him.

“Satoru?”

“Uh, yeah, gotta… gotta get you ready for me.” He gave you a lopsided grin, and gently palming your thighs, settled in between your legs, quietly groaning as he inhaled your scent. He pressed a murmur of a kiss on your clit, and sensing the nervous tension in your thighs, he squeezed them reassuringly. “You gotta relax.”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

You clicked your tongue. Smart ass.

But his quip didn’t hold his usual teasing sass, and you focused on releasing the tension in your tight muscles. Which, as you found out, turned out to be easy. Because you turned into jelly the moment Satoru ran his tongue along your slit and up to your clit.

You sharply gasped. You might be a virgin, but you weren’t a stranger to pleasure having learned how to stimulate yourself with your fingers and the occasional toy, but this…

You arched your back as he flicked the tip of his tongue over your swollen, sensitive bud.

This was nothing compared to how you satiated yourself alone in your bed at night on those occasional moments you needed release.

This was bliss.

You felt him snicker against your cunt. “So wet for me…” 

You had half a mind to swat at his head, but he sucked down hard, and whatever thoughts you had of wanting to slap him flew out of your head, reacting to his sinful mouth by twisting your hands in his unruly hair instead. He grunted when you inadvertently pushed him in closer, your thighs clamping against the sides of his head, hips bucking up with each jolt of electricity buzzing through your center.

“Goddamn, girl.” But he didn’t let go, continuing to devour your quivering cunt with the desperation of a man deprived. “So fucking wet.”

You squirmed, the sensation of him mouthing you, lapping at your folds, circling the entrance of your pussy, spinning into an intense whirlwind.

“That’s it,” Satoru instructed, feeling how your muscles were clenching and releasing rapidly. “Let go. Cum for me.”

Everything within you pulled taut, tightening into a pressure cooker of overwhelming ecstasy, bursting violently in an explosion of strangled cries moaning Satoru’s name, your back lurching off your bed, stars swimming in your blackened vision.

And as the explosion roiled through your trembling body, Satoru continued to tantalize every inch of you between your thighs, firmly holding your erratically bucking hips in place, until you softened into a quivering mess.

“Geez, number two, didn’t know you could scream like that.” Satoru smugly smirked, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. 

“Don’t call me that,” you mumbled, flushing from the embarrassment of how hard you just unraveled for him. “Aren’t you a little too dressed to fuck me?”

“Want me that badly, huh?” 

But the speed at which he kicked off his own jeans and briefs betrayed how much he needed to be buried deep inside you.

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when he sprang free. 

It wasn’t as if you’d seen many dicks in your life outside of movies or TV, but fuck… Satoru wasn’t just big… He was big. The man was fucking blessed.

Without meaning to, you whimpered, your stare fixated on his blessed appendage, wondering how the hell it was going to fit into your virgin cunt.

“That’s not going to fit.”

“I’ll go slow, don’t worry.”

Your eyes flickered from his dick to his surprisingly gentle face, a grimace of distrust written all over yours. “Satoru, you’re too big, I–”

“Sweets,” Satoru calmly said, gazing gently into your eyes with assurance. “It might hurt a bit, but I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

You swallowed thickly, but you nodded. Satoru smiled, a genuine smile absent of any teasing, and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Let me know if you need to stop.”

Another nod.

Satoru positioned himself at your entrance, sliding the remnants of your climax along his erection. He pushed gently, slowly sinking his tip in past the tight entrance.

You hissed, the sudden sensation of yourself stretching to accommodate him deliriously painful in the best way. Satoru waited patiently for you to adjust to him, and when you relaxed, he painstakingly slowly pushed further in, inch by inch. 

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” you rasped.

Satoru was shaking, the exertion of holding himself up not to crush you, controlling himself to sink in slowly, forcing him to hold a static position for a prolonged period of time. He was concentrating so hard, the tip of his tongue poked out from the corner of his mouth.

Had Satoru always been this adorable?

Or maybe his dick was just that magical, making you think the most infuriating man alive on this planet was adorable.

Satoru sank in another inch. You groaned. He was stretching you out, dragging along your walls as he sank in, filling you to a fullness you didn’t even know existed.

“Are you not in yet?”

Satoru paused, letting out the most indignant exhale of air. “Are you serious right now?”

You stifled a giggle, but you weren’t trying to be silly. It was sweet how Satoru was taking his time for you, but you wanted to feel him, buried to the hilt, filling you overwhelmingly so that he was all you could think about.

Fuck it.

You wrapped your legs around his waist tightly, hurling his hips into yours for the last couple of inches.

Satoru swore under his breath, but you barely heard him. That last forceful push in meant his tip barreled into your cervix, and fuck… fuck, did that hurt.

Tears welled in your eyes from the dull ache throbbing in your lower belly. 

Satoru brushed your hair back, keeping his hips as still as he possibly could. “Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed. “Breathe, breathe.” 

A tear slid down your cheek, which Satoru wiped away. You gasped, breathing heavily as you waited for the ache to dissipate, focusing on the air entering your lungs and exiting through your mouth.

“Why’d you do that? Should’ve let me handle it,” Satoru fussed, rubbing soothing circles in your skin and placing gentle kisses on your cheeks.

“I wanted to feel you,” you wheezed, feeling like a downright idiot, but also pleased with how fully buried he was in your warmth. “But you’re too fucking big.”

“Tch… silly girl,” Satoru grumbled, but the corners of his mouth twisted upwards. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” 

“I’m going to start moving now, is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

Satoru brushed his lips on your forehead where he flicked it earlier that night, and without taking his eyes off of you, started with tiny, slow thrusts. He was barely moving, but even his tiny thrusts were sinfully divine. You rolled your hips with his, wanting more.

“Fuck,” Satoru hissed. “I can’t hold back if you squeeze me that tight.”

“Don’t.”

Satoru broke. He laced his hand with yours holding it tightly above your head, and drove into you frenetically, nuzzling his mouth into the crook of your neck, nipping the soft skin. The heat between your writhing bodies all-consuming, a blazing inferno caught in the dizzying tornado of passion.

You clung to him, deep, thready moans tumbling from your lush, parted lips.

“Satoru…”

“Keep saying my name.”

You whispered his name, the pressure of him moving inside you filling you with a torrential flood of euphoric sensations, reducing you to a puddle of whimpers under his powerful, frantic thrusts. His strokes were unbearably hot, waves of searing pleasure overtaking you, receding and building, incensed by the obscene grunts escaping him.

“I– fuck.” Satoru bit your shoulder hard, growling unrestrained, primal. “Where do you want me to cum?”

It was a bad idea. It was quite possibly one of the worst ideas you’ve had in a while, but it didn’t matter, you wanted to feel him, you wanted him to claim you as his, you wanted him to mark you with his animalistic need.

“In– inside…”

Satoru let out a long maddening moan, so full of his desire, pouring into you in a frenzy, you hit your peak, pulsating around him desperately, unraveling at the sensation of his burning cum coating you inside in erratic bursts. 

The two of you shook against one another, heaving as the cloud of ecstasy receded and your breaths calmed to normal. Satoru slumped to his side, pulling you into his chest, pressing a light kiss to your temple.

He chuckled, still wrapped in the hazy aftermath of your shared bliss. “I’ve wanted to do that forever.”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Geez, miss number two,” he grinned down at you, “do I really gotta spell it out for you? Thought you were smarter than that.”

“Don’t call me that,” you retorted. “Spell what out for me?”

Satoru grumbled something you couldn’t quite catch, yelping when you pinched his side, but wrapped his arms around you even tighter, sighing. “It means, I’ve had a crush on you since last year.”

Oh… Your eyes bugged when it sank in. Oh.

Gojo fucking Satoru had a crush on you.

You.

Out of all the women you knew he could choose from…

You.

Your face grew uncomfortably hot. Embarrassed, you buried your face in his chest. You felt Satoru shift, squirming at your silence.

“Say something, will ya? Before this gets more awkward?”

You bit back a groan. “I–” Fuck, you weren’t ready for this. “I think… I think I like you too,” and because you were so embarrassed and upset with how fucking smooth he was, you added, “when you’re not pissing me off.”

Satoru snickered. “So, like we dating now or what?”

“I– I guess?”

“What do you mean by I guess?” 

Satoru sounded downright offended. Cute.

“Yes, we’re dating,” you clarified, grumbling that he was making you spell it out for him. “Especially if I get your magical dick all to myself.”

“Magical dick, huh?” Satoru chuckled. “So, miss number two–”

“You really need to stop calling me number two.”

This whole thing was madness. God, Gojo Satoru drove you fucking insane. In more ways than one.

“What should I call you then?”

Brat. 

You rolled your eyes. “How about just my name?”

Satoru hummed, the gears in his head turning. “I know, I’ll call you my number one.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he craned down to meet your eyes, glittering with a mischievous sparkle, “you’re number one in my heart.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Ugh. Fucking Gojo Satoru.

Feeling your blush deepen, you buried yourself into his chest again, rubbing into the space between his pecs ferociously. “You’re so fucking cheesy, S’toru.”

“Admit it, you fucking love it.” 

You knew that tone of voice. It was the one that came out when he had that adorable boyish grin on his face.

“No,” you grumbled.

But you did. You fucking loved it.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

[alchemistc]

fascination with your presentation | bucktommy 1/1

read on ao3

Tommy likes to touch things. It's just a random quirk of his that Eddie's noticed - a hand sliding along the back of the couch as he follows Eddie into the kitchen to grab a beer, fingers balancing along the table as he leans, elbow pressing into the frame of the doorway like he's gauging the space between walls.

He's tactile - a smack to the space between his shoulders, fist bumps and high fives and teasing hair ruffles when he's got Eddie pinned in the middle of a spar and they both know Eddie isn't getting out of it.

It's nice. There aren't a lot of men, especially with their background, in their line of work, who are remotely comfortable expressing affection like that.

He's a fan.

Christopher is less so, when Tommy lays a big hand to the crown of his head and goes for a noogie. He huffs, rolls his eyes, rolls his head forward and away from the touch, makes some noise about a call he's supposed to make later that night and how he doesn't want his hair messed up for it, and Tommy holds his hands up in apology, fighting a grin as Chris smooths his hair back down.

Eddie's used to it already, so it takes him a second to really notice Tommy rounding the edge of the table to flick through papers and pictures and receipts tacked to the fridge as he digs through one of his drawers in search of the bottle opener he knows he has stashed in here somewhere. Eddie's more of a twist cap beer guy, but Tommy's oddly flavored fancy bottles always need an opener.

"Here," Tommy says, and Eddie turns just in time to catch the keys Tommy slings at him.

"I don't like your truck that much," Eddie tells him, which is a lie.

Tommy tips his head forward to indicate the keys. "Bottle opener, Diaz."

Which makes sense. He should get one for himself, actually. It's a little shocking neither one of them carries a utility knife on them. The preparedness rules maybe didn't stick after discharge as well as they could have

Tommy's gaze drifts, and Eddie watches his head tilt, ring and middle finger reaching up to tap at one of the pictures on the fridge. Chris and Buck, a few years back, some trip to the museum during either Buck or Chris' dinosaur phase. Buck's holding a giant stuffed pteranodon ("Pterodactyls were smaller and had cone-shaped teeth and backward-projecting crests, actually, and this isn't technically the most accurate depiction anyway, it's generally accepted they probably had feathers, now." -- So, definitely Buck's phase, now that he's remembering.) and Chris has a specific brand of smile across his face that Eddie has quietly dubbed his Buck-smile. Something around the edges of his eyes that's always just a little brighter for Buck.

"Cute picture," Tommy says, and Chris's eyes draw to it as Tommy taps his knuckles once-twice to it before dropping his hand to his side.

It's not the first time someone in this circle of three has brought up Buck.

The first night Tommy'd been here, camped out on the couch watching a game, Chris had had a million questions, and Buck had come up pretty naturally over the course of them comparing disasters they'd been a part of, or worked.

Chris had brought up the tsunami, which had led to a back and forth where they discovered Tommy had likely flown right over them at least once during that disaster of a day, and then it had evolved into Chris memorializing all of Buck's greatest (most traumatizing) hits - pinned under a fire engine, climbing a crane tower in the middle of a county wide panic about a shooter targeting firefighters (he doesn't bring up Eddie being shot, which - maybe they should revisit that at some point, make sure Chris isn't burying that), Buck getting struck by lightning, Buck taking charge in the bridge collapse.

And obviously, if Chris was gonna debate Star Wars, he was gonna bring up Buck's involved opinions on Machete order and OG vs Prequels vs the Somehow Palpatine Returned era, and be delighted that Tommy's opinion differed from Buck's, because that made Chris the victor in that ongoing battle.

Buck is a big part of Chris and Eddie's lives, so he's gonna be dropped into conversation. Nothing strange about that.

Tommy always calls him Evan, which is a big old dose of whiplash every time, and he can't think why he does that, because despite Buck introducing himself (weirdly) as Buh-Evan Buckley, they've seen each other since, and no one else Tommy talks to calls him Evan, so he doesn't know why Buck hasn't corrected him.

Chris' mouth does something strange as Tommy keeps looking at the picture, his expression going a little curious in a way Eddie can't quite parse, and then he's grinning. There's no reason to be suspicious, except for the way he actually puts down his phone to engage with Tommy as Eddie passes a beer off.

"Yeah, Buck always takes me to exhibits every time there's a new one. He's cool like that."

Tommy hums around his first sip, expression placid, posture relaxed. "Maybe I could take you to the next one."

Christopher's eyes narrow.

Eddie's lost.

"Uh, not without Buck. Carla took me once without him and he pretended to be fine about it for weeks until I asked him to take me again. He was not happy we went without him. But you could come with us."

Tommy tap-tap-taps his finger against the rim of his bottle, unfazed by the slightly territorial way Chris had phrased it. Eddie's fazed. Eddie is not sure there's not a second layer to this conversation he's missing. "I'll look it up. Jot it down in my day book."

Christopher is too young to have a clue what that means, but he doesn't seem to be quite done with whatever the hell it is he's got going on right now. "Good," he says. "Buck's single right now, so he's got a lot of extra time for stuff."

Tommy's gaze flits to Christopher's, and Eddie doesn't have a fucking clue what's going on, but it's a weighted look for half a second before Chris' gaze turns back to his phone.

"You have his number, right? Maybe you should call him and figure out a day we can all go."

Something happens around the corners of Tommy's mouth that he hides by tipping the bottle mouth against his lips again. "Yeah. I've got his number."

For a second Eddie wonders why, before he remembers catching Buck down at Harbor before the fight. When had Buck gotten his number?

"Cool," says Chris, eyes already glued back to his phone. "We usually get lunch first. Buck really likes pizza."

"Everyone likes pizza," Tommy says, eyes glimmering with mirth that Eddie absolutely does not know the source of.

"Yeah, but Buck's picky about it. He says there's a perfect pizza to crust ratio that most places don't get right. Also he likes it when they have a stone oven, and the little pizza risers."

Tommy rolls his tongue over his teeth. And - why is Eddie watching this interaction so carefully? It's not like he's worried Tommy's gonna say something weird to his kid, even if his kid is being weird.

"I'm gonna go throw the game on. You hungry?"

Tommy's eyes shift to meet his, and Eddie feels that same frisson of excitement he gets sometimes when Buck is paying close attention to him. "I could eat. Not pizza though. There's nowhere around here with a good stone oven."

"Dad likes pineapple on his pizza, his pizza opinions suck."

Eddie tosses his hands up. This is an old argument, one created entirely by Buck because Chris hadn't minded a good Canadian pizza before Buck declared war on them. "Pizza's just pizza. I was thinking Chinese, anyway."

"Can we get those spring rolls Buck always gets?"

Tommy's gaze slips to the fridge one more time, eyes drifting across the picture he'd pointed out earlier, before he unclips the menu for the Chinese place down the street from its spot half-covering the calendar to hand it off to Eddie. He spots the circle around their plans for Thursday and reaches out to touch the date.

"You invite anyone else for Thursday?"

Eddie rolls his top lip over his bottom one. "Buck hates basketball, turns me down every time I ask. I might ask Chim, though, he and his brother always liked to play."

Literally nothing in Tommy's expression changes, but Eddie feels like he's reacting to something in that sentence anyway. He's trying to figure out how to cut the weird tension in the room when Christopher starts listing off his order, and he's so distracted by trying to get a list prepared to call that he misses two thirds of Chris and Tommy's continued conversation, which is somehow, for some reason, still about Buck. Geez, is Chris pissed that Eddie's got a new friend? He should invite Buck next time he makes plans to hang out at home with Tommy.

----

"It was a date," Buck tells him, a week and a half later, while Eddie's staring at his phone like looking hard enough might make it, and his relationship with Marisol, maybe disappear. Just for a little while, while he squares things up with God.

Eddie tosses his phone, turns to look at Buck in the second before it computes, manages to pull back just enough so that it's not a full, ridiculous double take.

"When you and Marisol ran into me and Tommy, we were on a date."

"Really?" Buck usually tells him the second he's interested in someone, because for some reason he thinks Eddie has any idea how to have a loving, lasting relationship, even though Eddie's been lobbing live grenades straight at love since he was fourteen. He hadn't said a word to Eddie about -

Well.

Well actually --

Well shit.

Oh, he's definitely giving Tommy and Christopher both shit about this later.

"Wait, Tommy's gay?"

A whole host of things are suddenly lining up -- Buck at Harbor the afternoon before the fight, and Buck asking half a million questions after the fight, and Buck and Tommy both picking at the thread of Christopher's praises for the other, and -- Buck had been jealous. Buck had been jealous of Eddie spending time with Tommy. Buck had shoulder checked him to the court and sprained his ankle because he liked the guy enough to lose his head about it.

Oh, he's gonna hold this over all of their heads for sure.

Which for the moment is apparently not that great an idea because Tommy'd pressed pause after one date, which is fast even for Buck. He tells him so.

"When we ran into you guys I kinda made an idiot of myself and he said he doesn't think I'm ready." Buck looks -- sad. Disappointed. Nervous, hands rubbing at his thighs like he's soothing himself. It's a fair point, on Tommy's part, even if he doesn't know all the details.

(Something about hot chicks pings in the back of his mind, but he shelves it for later.)

Buck's never really hinted at romantic inclinations in that direction, although some of his comments about good looking guys are making a little more sense, in retrospect.

"What do you think?" Eddie's pretty sure he knows the answer to this question, but he asks anyway, because Buck likes to work these things out. He likes to talk about them. Eddie imagines not being able to articulate exactly what he was feeling without wondering if his friends would think it was weird probably (definitely) contributed to his wildly dramatic behavior the last few weeks.

Geez, Tia Pepa would be eating this telenovela shit up.

"I kinda can't stop thinking about him," Buck tells him, and it's a voice Eddie's not entirely sure he's ever heard from Buck before -- at least when he's talking about someone he's into. Buck's always got a checklist and a trillion rationalizations. Now he just sounds... smitten.

And Tommy is too, Eddie thinks. He is absolutely gonna call him out for pumping his kid for information. Maybe accuse him of only befriending him to get to Buck -- see if he can make the unflappable Tommy Kinard flap, a little.

"You should call him," Eddie tells him, already imagining double dates with a partner of Buck's he doesn't hope will spontaneously combust in the middle of dinner. Maybe between Tommy, Chris and Eddie they can finally convince Buck to go to one of the car shows he's always rolling his eyes at. Maybe Tommy and his terribly hidden romantic side can actually match Buck's crazy.

Eddie hugs Buck on his way out the door and feels the tension drain from his shoulders.

Maybe touched starved Buck will get to enjoy that little tactile quirk of Tommy's, too.

[suosgirl]

Party in the USA (the dayger’s going crazy)

Word Count: 15k+

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Characters: Hayato Suo, Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Kotoha Tachibana, Jo Togame, Ren Kaji, Mitsuki Kiryu, Akihiko Nirei, Choji Tomiyama, Toma Hiragi, Kyotaro Sugishita, Taiga Tsugeura

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, gn!reader, alcohol (lots of it), alcohol consumption, weed, weed consumption, cigarettes, ooc (most definitely), shitposting, for fun! – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: I feel very well qualified to write about this. I have hands-on experience and feel strongly about this topic. Please feel free to send me an ask regarding any of my references (I have attended many, many daygers.) This is actually so americancore and niche of me – sorry (not sorry). Also! Don’t be fooled, I hate America!

Hajime Umemiya | “Hey! Hi! Are ya hungry?”

The first face you see when you walk in, all in his shirtless glory

An absolute king at grilling – he’s got burgers, hotdogs, skewers, the works

The lettuce and tomatoes? Yeah, he grew them

Will take every chance he has to tell everyone too

Be careful though – for as much as he’s hot, he’s also a yapper

Being behind the grill unlocks a side of him that not many know – his dad side

“There’s a lot at steak… it’s un-grill-ievable!”

Buzzed & responsible – doesn’t let himself get too lit when he’s grilling

But once everyone’s had their fill and he’s got some downtime? Oh he’s inviting everyone to shotgun a beer with him

Can slam down a can in like 3 seconds no joke

Then, he’ll turn to you with stars in his eyes waiting for your words of praise and acknowledgement (how do you tell him that he did it so fast that you didn't see it?)

Toma Hiragi | “Whaddya drinkin’?”

You’re telling me you WOULDN'T trust this man to get the best liquor for the party?

Gonna go out on a limb here and say that he leans toward either Hennessy or Casamigos

Throws back his shots like a fucking champ – no chase needed (he likes the burn of it)

Definitely a heavy weight, so he’s got at least 2 of whatever he’s drinking just in case

Also doesn’t drink chase because of his stomach, so you know – go big or go home

Never lets you pour your own shots (chivalry isn’t dead, everyone)

And … if you ask him nicely … he’ll birdfeed it to you

Ren Kaji | “Chase is over there – you need help getting it?”

With how much candy he has to inhale on a daily basis, it just makes sense that he would be getting the soda, juice, or whatever pairing he thinks goes well with the corresponding liquor

And he definitely went with Hiragi to pick everything up (so cute)

Also in charge of the playlist for the day (I know his music taste is impeccable)

If you tell him this, though, he’d try to be so nonchalant about it (inside his heart is doing little pitter patters)

I feel like he has little shit tendencies and once everyone is feeling good he’ll see how many times he can queue Party In The USA until someone notices (wears his headphone tho bc ofc he would get annoyed)

Akihiko Nirei | “I made it! It’s really good – want a sip?”

JUNGLE! JUICE! PRO!

I just know he’s got the most insane recipe in his notebook (he’s got the exact measurements and brand names too)

Based on countless interviews, many trial runs, and many hangovers –  he’s perfected it to a T

Literally one cup has everyone on a good one – and he’s somehow got it to not taste like alcohol at all?

So proud of it too – if you tell him how good it is he’s got hearts in his eyes and he’s offering to get you another cup (with your consent of course)

Haruka Sakura | “I just grabbed the first one I saw … is it good? Do you like it?”

He’s new to this you know, so he’s keeping it cute and simple and easy

Besides, you can never go wrong with a pack of seltzers

He’s so cute and flustered about it too –

Like imagine him standing in front of the fridges just looking at all of them and getting slowly overwhelmed by all the different types and seeing that they all have different alc % and it’s getting so confusing

He just grabs one that looks decently good or has a name that seems kinda familiar to him and he storms off

And it’s literally like Twisted Tea or White Claws or something

But, as I said, you can never go wrong with a nice basic seltzer

Compliment his choice (even if you know it was made on a whim) and he’ll blush (he blames it on the summer heat)

Hayato Suo | “Do you want me to get your back?”

Sweet, thoughtful king

Brings sunblock and aloe vera gel because he just knows that everyone else will forget the basic necessities

If you need help getting your back, he’s more than happy to offer his services

Also – who would he be if he didn’t bring green tea shots (it’s a given)

He actually created them not many people know that

It’s always the perfect ratio too – never too strong and never too weak (the perfect balance)

Anyways, also a heavyweight (potentially) but gets just a bit touchy when he’s buzzed

So when he offers to reapply sunblock on you despite having done it less than 30 minutes ago, who are you to say no?

Kyotaro Sugishita | “I need a partner … You any good?”

This man absolutely demolishes at beer pong

Never leaves the table actually (and stays undefeated the whole dayger)

He’s so tall like he’s got built-in stats for it already

If Umemiya takes a break from grilling and comes to join him? Oh they’re absolutely wiping everyone

If beer pong was an Olympic sport, Sugashita would’ve already been scouted

Because he’s so good, he doesn’t even need a partner that’s at the same level as him – he just needs a partner

But – to him, making at least one cup is better than nothing, and if you’re able to do just that? Oh, you’re never leaving his side

Mitsuki Kiryu | “You want a hit, cutie?”

It’s actually canon that Kiryu smokes like I just know it in my heart and soul

Loves to make different blends too, some with rose petals and some with lavender 

His blunts are so pretty too, and he’ll use pink wrapping papers

Also has a small bong just in case anyone wants it in that form — and also edibles

And also cigs

He has money, why wouldn’t he show out?

His lighters all have decoden on them too, and they all have his name spelled on it (he was tired of people stealing them)

Also incredibly respectful – brings his own ashtray that he disposes of on his own

I feel like he transitions a lot of people into smoking for the first time (if they’re interested, of course! Would never peer pressure.)

But …. Oh boy… the way that he would gently tilt your head back to blow a hit into your mouth

Kotoha Tachibanau | “I’m gonna get you so wet!”

Give this girl a break she deserves to have fun!

Stays in the pool most of the time, but also loves to soak up the sun so she’s got her own self-care agenda for the day

Loves water guns! Brings like 2 or 3 of them

Also probably brings a book to enjoy by the pool when she’s tanning

Definitely the type to get the ice water from the coolers and spray anyone who tries to come within 5 feet of her

If she feels silly (and buzzed) she’ll pour jungle juice into them and shoot them into people’s mouths

Takes this time to truly relax and unwind (we love a work-life balance!) – and loves doing it beside you

Taiga Tsugeura | “Don’t forget to drink water!”

Absolutely brings cases of water and liquid IV

He’s all for partying, don’t get him wrong, but he’s also got to hit the gym tomorrow so

Makes sure that everyone’s got a bottle of water on them – his virtue is caring too much

Also decently good at beer pong, but his downfall is that he throws the ball too hard and ends up hitting people like 10 feet away from him in the head

Also strikes me as unhinged, so – if you’re cool with getting pulled into the pool, then he’s definitely your guy

Definitely does flips while diving into the pool to try and impress you (it works)

Jo Togame | “Need some help with that?”

What Sakura may lack in seltzers, Togame makes up in beer

If there’s one thing he knows, it’s a good brand of beer

Also clocked in my mind as a heavyweight, so if he’s up to drink, he’s bringing many many cases

Has a bottle opener that has sentimental value to him – probably one that Choji got for him

Can also pop it open with his teeth (but no one ever lets him because it’s bad)

("Sure, okay, whatever squares" — he listens.)

If he sees you struggling to pop the cap off, he’s already grabbing it from your hand and doing it for you – no questions asked

(Ask him while he’s buzzed, and he’ll do it with his teeth, all while staring into your eyes)

Choji Tomiyama | “Let’s take a shot!”

The first thing he does is do a cannonball in the pool (this is so canon)

If you’re a soju lover – he’s got it!

Brings all the flavors too, but is most partial to yogurt-flavored soju

Is flitting all over the party talking to everyone and anyone

(Tries his hand at beer pong – going to go out on a limb here and say that he sucks)

However! He is a heavyweight!

Can hold his own with Umemiya and Togame for sure

Is definitely the one gathering everyone together to take some shots

Will probably ask Kaji to play Shots by LMFAO and Lil Jon every single time (after the first time, Kaji starts ignoring him)

If you’re open to shots, is absolutely pulling you by your arm to take yet another one

[lushrue]

cold beer on a friday night

heard "a little bit of chicken fried" in a white people anthems compilation the other day and i immediately started thinking of everyone’s favorite southern boy, phillip graves! so have some good ol’ cowboy smut for your weekend! (also did not expect this to be almost 4k words, but here we are)

afab!reader (she/her pronouns used), nsfw, minors dni!!

cw: drinking, unprotected p-in-v sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering, creampie, heavy praise kink

the bar was pretty packed, but you expected that it would be.

living in a military town, you’d learned when the busy times were. weekends, most evenings after 8 PM, and holidays. this one was the biggest one of all in your community, fourth of july looming around the corner and bringing star-spangled festivity with it. the bar itself was adorned with an american flag banner that people would occasionally toast to before taking a shot. the string lights above the patio had been changed from their pale yellow to shine red, white, and blue. occasionally, as you sat there drinking your cheap beer, someone would break out in a drunken rendition of the star-spangled banner, causing everyone to either sing along or raise their glass in solidarity.

it was entertaining for you, if nothing else. watching men who’d made their country their whole lives celebrate it was its own brand of inspiring. the town felt the same around memorial day and veteran’s day too. you’d been pretty staunchly anti-military for most of your adult life, holding the belief in world peace that only someone who hadn’t experienced war could. but seeing these men who wouldn’t have known each other if not for their brotherhood of service expressing their love for their country, it almost made you want to believe in their cause. still, despite the atmosphere, patriotism wasn’t the foremost thing in your mind tonight.

you weren’t expecting to find the love of your life, not in a place like this. it was hardly the fairytale castle you’d envisioned as a little girl and the men here were certainly no prince charming. all you could ask for was someone to treat you right for a night. focus on you a little bit, take his time. if you got real lucky, maybe he’d even make you cum. the proverbial bar wasn’t in hell, but it was close enough to feel the flames. it’d been months since your deadbeat of an ex-boyfriend dumped you, and despite how bad of an idea your friends had told you it was, you were looking for a rebound. nothing serious or long-term, just a good fuck to set you right and then you could be on your way. it was hard to get anywhere in the dating scene with this insatiable ache between your legs.

you nursed your budweiser, the condensation leaking between your fingertips as you took a drink from the bottle. it tasted like piss, but like everyone always says, you don’t drink for the taste. weary eyes scan the bar and its patrons, looking for anyone who isn’t already fall-on-their-face drunk. it was slim pickins; almost everyone here had started their evening of debauchery hours ago with no signs of stopping. the sober ones were mostly grizzled veterans, watching the younger soldiers with a glint of something akin to nostalgia. you supposed that must have been them once, disregarding their livers for a night of fun with buddies that they could lose in an instant. they certainly wouldn’t be scratching your itch for you anytime soon, so your gaze moved on. 

finally, your eyes settled on a blond man sitting by himself at a high top. you’d seen him here before a couple of times. he was always alone, on the fringes of whatever drunken activity was going on. you’d never seen him so much as stumble while he was here, downing his couple of whiskeys in peace before closing out and heading home. he was handsome, you supposed. older than you, but not enough to make anyone clutch their pearls. muscular, scar on his cheek. still clearly military, but a bit more weathered than the twenty-somethings throwing back jaegerbombs.

little did you know, he’d seen you too. he’d seen how you came every weekend, like clockwork, looking like you were begging for company. it was sweet, he thought, how desperate you were for attention. you were like a puppy with those doe eyes of yours. just begging to be noticed, to be taken into someone’s arms and loved proper. he was sure you tasted as sweet as you looked. just as your eyes met his, you looked away with a blush. had he caught you staring? you couldn’t be sure. you cursed yourself for your bashfulness, clutching the neck of your beer bottle a little tighter. how were you ever going to get laid if you didn’t go for it?

luckily, your military man wasn’t one to wait around. he got up from his table, sauntering towards you with a confidence that was completely innate. this wasn’t born of liquid courage. no, he knew he had something you wanted. you clear your throat and look up as he lays his hand on the chair across from you. “this seat taken?” he asked, his voice slow and easy like he wasn’t in a hurry. nobody was around here, you supposed. you shake your head no and he takes it as an invitation. the chair pulled out with a squeaking noise drowned out by someone breaking out into “my country 'tis of thee.”

you take another swig of beer to loosen your tongue and give you some charisma that you wouldn’t have sober. the man held his hand out to you, his tumbler full of amber in the other. “i’m phillip. you can call me phil.” you take his hand without a second thought, shaking politely. god, how bad off were you if touching a man’s hand made you practically feral? you give your name in reply, withdrawing your hand before your mind runs off with unsavory images. the last thing you needed was to scare off the one eligible bachelor in the bar who’d seen fit to approach you. a cursory glance at his left hand revealed no wedding ring. you weren’t looking to add “homewrecker” to your long list of accomplishments.

“what’s a lovely lady like you doin’ all by herself?” he asked in a charming southern drawl that made your blood pump a little faster. it reminded you of those cheap cowboy romance novels that you sometimes indulged in. everyone had their guilty pleasures, after all. “enjoyin’ the atmosphere,” you quip back, sarcasm dripping from your words. you take another drink of beer. phil leans forward, his weight shifting to his muscular forearms. your eyes drop down, struggling not to salivate at the sight. it really had been too long. he tips a finger under your chin, guiding your gaze back up to him. “i think the atmosphere’d be better someplace else,” he said, his voice low so as not to be overheard. maybe it was just how pent up you were, but you could swear there was desire undercutting his words. “whaddya say, darlin’? how ‘bout you and me get on outta here?”

you have to stop yourself from replying too quickly. you didn’t want to show your hand and reveal your desperation just yet. he smirked when you nodded slowly, your muscles tense with the effort of holding back your excitement. didn’t you know he could smell it on you from across the bar? ever the gentleman, phil closed out both your tabs. there wasn’t much on yours anyways, just a couple of budweisers and one vodka cranberry that you’d stopped drinking halfway through. as you stood beside him at the bar, watching the bartender run his card, he wrapped his arm around your waist. his fingers dug into the plush of your hip with a subtle possessiveness meant to ward off any other interested parties. it sent a thrill through you, your panties getting more uncomfortable the longer you stood there.

thankfully, the cool night air outside the bar leveled your head a bit. not enough to make you think deeply about your decision to get into a strange man’s truck, but enough to keep you from jumping his bones the moment the door shut. you climbed up into the passenger seat, feeling for your pepper spray in your purse. just in case, you told yourself. handsome men could be creeps too. you barely noticed him getting into the driver’s seat, turning the engine over and pulling out of the gravel parking lot.

you two make it maybe five miles down the road before you have to stop. you keep throwing glances at phil, watching his concentration while he drives. you’ve never been able to explain it, but there’s something so sexy about a man with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh. he keeps kneading into the fat, fingertips brushing the muscle underneath with how hard he’s squeezing. you’re soft, he thinks. plush, pliant, perfect. the air is charged, the silence comfortable but tinged with the anticipation of what’s to come. it’s when he feels your thighs clench together that he pulls off onto a little dirt road, the tires kicking up dust. on some level, you’re grateful for his lack of restraint. you weren’t sure you were going to last much longer either.

you clamber into his backseat, careful not to mar the leather with your stiletto heels. he climbs back there with you, settling into the seat and patting his thigh. “c’mere, pretty girl,” he says sweetly, and you maneuver yourself to straddle his lap. the heat of your cunt is right against him now and his hands clench around your hips. he can practically smell how needy you are. you bite your lip to stifle a whine, the firmness of him through his jeans providing delicious pressure on your clit. suddenly, you’re thanking god for little red dresses. phillip’s eyes flutter shut as he bucks his hips, pressing his erection against you a little harder. that elicits the sound he wanted and he chuckles, his laugh like rolling thunder.

“it’s been too long since that pretty pussy’s had any attention, huh, sweetheart?” he asks. you can hear a tone of condescension, but you don’t care. not when there is a warm body beneath you about to soothe the ache that’s been there since your ex moved out. you nod in response and he hums, tugging the straps of your dress down. “in a minute, darlin’. i’ll get to her later. there’s other parts of you i’d like to get acquainted with first.” you’re putty in his hands, mindlessly nodding along with everything he says. he could tell you he’s taking you out in the woods to kill you and you’d be fine with it as long as he fucked you first. the top half of your dress falls away as he tugs at the zipper, pulling it down just enough to reveal your chest. you’d made a good choice of bra that night at least: your favorite black push-up with lace all over and a pretty bow in the center. he sucks air in through his teeth as he stares at you. he likes it too.

“as pretty as this little number is, i don’t wanna ruin it,” he says, his fingers ghosting down your spine to the clasp of your bra. your back arches, pushing your breasts forward. he smiles and unhooks it with practiced ease, sliding the straps all the way down your arms and easing them over your hands. fire blazes a trail down your skin behind his touch, your face flushing a pretty shade of pink. the bra hits the leather seat to the left of you, but you don’t have time to see where it went. phillip’s hands are on your chest, kneading into your tits the same way he did your thigh. you moan, your head falling back as you lose yourself in the euphoria of being touched. “that’s it, baby. god, these tits are so perfect. fit in my hands so nicely.” he brushes his thumb over one of your nipples, making it stiffen. your nose scrunches, the thrill from the contact going straight between your legs.

before you can say anything in reply, the warmth of his mouth is latched around your breast, his tongue teasing at the hardened bud in the center. you swear you could cry as relief washes over you. you’d found what you were looking for, finally. god was real, and he came in the form of phillip graves. while he sucked at one nipple, he teased the other with his fingers, rolling it and giving it the occasional flick. already you could feel the pleasure tightening in your core, threatening to push you over the edge if you thought too hard about everything he was doing. your hips start to rock of their own accord, chasing friction against his lap. one of his large hands moves down to hold you in place, his mouth releasing your breast with a pop. “all in due time, sweetness. you’re not in a rush, now, are ya?” you shake your head, eyes wide as you stare back at him.

“good. ‘cause i intend to take my time and enjoy ya.” thankfully, he moves on from your breasts to other, more neglected areas of your body. he unzips your dress like he’s unwrapping god’s gift to earth, reverent as his eyes rake across every inch of exposed flesh. the glint in his eyes is primal, animalistic. he’d devour you if given the chance. despite the awkwardness, you shimmy your dress off, your heels falling off your feet with it. it all falls to the floor in a heap, leaving you in nothing but your panties. always one for fairness, phillip unbuttons his shirt, tossing it to the side before catching your lips. his hand snakes up your back to hold your head in place, the other winding around your waist to pull you impossibly closer. your chest presses against his and he moans into your mouth at the feeling.

slowly, that hand around your waist starts to sneak down, edging closer to the waistband of your underwear. you don’t notice, too enraptured by the taste of whiskey on his tongue. you feel it when his hand slides against you, though. the kiss is broken by your gasp, the simple proximity of his fingers enough to make your hips roll down in search of pleasure. the thunder in his chest rumbles again, the hand on the back of your head tightening. “that’s what you really wanted tonight, isn’t it? someone to give this pretty cunt what it’s been achin’ for.” words don’t come. your mind is too preoccupied with the warmth of his skin to string together syntax. phillip’s fingers wind around your hair, tugging at it roughly. your head jerks back and you whine. that shouldn’t have felt as good as it did. “gotta use your words, baby girl. gotta tell me what you want or i’m gonna stop.” no, you didn’t want that. “t-touch me,” you manage to stutter out, your neck bent at an awkward angle by the force of his hand. he lets go, rubbing his thumb over the scalp he’d irritated. “good girl. you follow orders well.”

his fingers run along your slit, gathering your wetness on his digits. he smiles, his voice dropping a register as he leans in closer to you. “so desperate, baby. i can feel how needy you are. just a bitch in heat, ain’tcha?” you keen, your head nodding of its own accord. deep in your subconscious, you knew he was right. some part of you wanted to be ashamed, but it wasn’t strong enough to fight to the forefront. all you felt was burning need coursing through your veins and leaking out between your legs. he pulled his hand away, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking your juices off of them. the sight of his face made you moan. he looked like a man enjoying his last meal, eyes shut and a content smile on his face. “delicious,” he said softly, bringing that same hand up to your face. he cups your cheek and runs his thumb over your bottom lip, feeling the softness of your skin under his calloused hand.

phillip guides your mouth towards his, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. it’s all tongues and teeth, desperate, messy. you can taste yourself on him, the salty remnants of you left behind on his tongue. while he has you distracted with his mouth, he lowers his hand between your legs, tugging your panties to the side. black and lacy, just like the bra. he liked a girl with a sense of style. without warning, two of his fingers thrust into you, making you see stars. you moan into his mouth as he scissors you open, preparing you for him. his mouth leaves yours, leaning to the side to whisper in your ear. “gonna take my cock so well, aren’t you, baby? gonna take it like the whore you are. so fuckin’ needy.”

his words made you blush, heat rushing to your core. he starts pumping his fingers in and out, holding you in place by the scruff of your neck. you writhe as much as you’re able, your body overwhelmed by all the sensations he was providing you. he chuckles lowly in your ear, the sound sending a chill down your spine. “i know you will, darlin’. i know you will. that pretty cunt is just swallowin’ my fingers. she’s a greedy little thing, ain’t she?” you couldn’t respond. it was hard enough for your brain to convert the sounds into meaningful words, let alone formulate a response. you were practically mute, save for the whimpers and mewls that flowed unbidden. he picks up the pace and your eyes screw shut, pressure building in your belly. “phil! ‘m gonna-” he cuts you off with another brutal kiss, his tongue bullying its way into your mouth.

all the while, you’re rocking your hips, letting the pleasure build. he pulls away, tilting your head down so that you’re looking into his eyes. “i’m gonna make you come on my fingers, then you’re gonna come on my cock like a good girl. understand?” his tone was forceful enough that you registered the command and you nodded along. you’d do anything he wanted if it meant he didn’t stop. he nodded back and focused in on you, his fingers curling right against that spongy spot deep inside you. “c’mon, baby. give it to me,” he said, his voice ragged as he watched your face. he knew you’d look so pretty falling apart on his lap. and you really did. the pressure released, setting your whole body trembling. you cried out, back arching. your mouth fell open, moaning as you rode out the wave of pleasure. as soon as you’d caught your breath, he yanked his fingers away, leaving you empty and dripping all over the seat. you whined at the loss, but you weren’t empty long. 

he freed himself from his jeans and underwear, giving himself a couple pumps before guiding his leaking cockhead to your warmth. you whine as he taps it against your clit, his ragged breathing the only reply. when you open your eyes and look at him, he looks just as debauched as you feel. feeling you clench around his fingers, watching your face, it had done something to him. without another word, he pushes himself inside. just a little bit at first, and you’re thankful for it. the tip of him is already stretching you wider than your biggest toy. he holds your chin in his thumb and forefinger, guiding your eyes down to his. “you’re doing so good, you pretty thing. need ya to give me one more. think you can do that for me?” you nod, letting gravity sink you a little further down on his cock. he hisses through clenched teeth, cheeks burning red.

phillip’s hands on your hips are steadying, easing you down until he’s bottomed out inside you. the moan you let out is a sound you’re wholly unfamiliar with. wanton, crass, loud to boot. he groans alongside you, his fingers digging into the plush of your ass. you give yourself a moment to adjust to the fullness. he’s not longer than you can handle, but he’s thick, stretching your walls as much as they can take. the burn fades into something warmer, something softer, and that’s when you know you can give him another. you start to bounce up and down, slowly at first before picking up the pace. his head leans back against the seat, reveling in the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him. “fuck, baby! you take me so well, knew you would. this pussy’s so good, so wet. all for me, all fuckin’ mine.”

his words are slurred, his tongue heavy in his mouth as he lets himself get drunk on the pleasure. you’re not far behind, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot every time you sink down onto his lap. he presses his hips into yours, thrusting into you to shove himself deeper. you moan into his ear, bracing yourself as your shaking thighs try desperately to keep up. that’s when he starts helping, lifting you up and spearing you on his cock over and over. your eyes roll back in your head and the pressure builds again before you even know what’s happening. all of a sudden, you’re hovering right over the edge, breath heavy and head fuzzy. you must have tightened around him because phil makes an absolutely unholy noise, his head falling back against the seat.

“god damn,” he breathes out, a hand leaving your hip to tug at your hair. it was so attractive, the way he lifted you on his lap like you weighed nothing. your head falls back as he yanks at the roots of your hair, the jolt of pain threatening to push you over the edge. he’s moaning right alongside you, watching the way your tits bounce and your body jiggles as you bounce on his cock. “need you to come again, sweetness,” he says, tilting your head so you’re looking at him. “look me in the eye, don’t you stop lookin’ at me.” you obey, letting the pleasure build in you as he pushes himself impossibly deeper. his gaze is intense, unwavering. the pressure, the fullness is all too much and you tip over, your walls gripping him in a vice as you come.

that turns him into an animal, rutting into you with abandon as you ride out your orgasm. just when it gets to be too much, when you’re about to tap out, the warmth of his spend floods into you. you whine at the sensation, too lost in your own head to relish in the sounds he made. some men liked to talk through it, mumble out some incoherent praise or compliments. not phil. no, he moaned. the sounds fell from his lips as his hips stuttered, his fingers digging painfully into your skin. the hand in your hair tightens as well, causing you to hiss in pain. he doesn’t even register the sound, too lost in his own pleasure.

when his eyes finally meet yours again, they look much like your own. blissed out blues meet your cumdrunk gaze. his chest heaves as he slides himself out of you, pulling you down to lay against him. his spend drips out of you and you begin to protest, but he shushes you. “‘s alright, darlin’. i’m gettin’ the truck detailed tomorrow.” you settle, catching your breath as your ear presses against his chest. you can hear his heart thundering in his chest, threatening to beat right out of his skin. “you did so good for me,” he says, raking his fingers through your hair. “such a good, obedient girl.”

you smile at the praise, his words warming something deep within you. “same time next week?” he asks, and you nod. finally, you’d found what you were looking for.

[radioisntdead]

Happy Father's Day folks! I bring you Alastor, Vox and Husk dad headcanons because the original fic I was writing wouldn't be done in time so that'll be posted eventually.

Alastor

Well it looks like someone got picked up off the streets! You!

I love the accidentally became a dad trope for Alastor, he just causally stumbled upon you and then couldn't get rid of you.

Occasionally tries to get you to sign your soul to him especially if you have potential to become someone great and powerful.

Fails to optain your soul EVERY SINGLE TIME, L, sucks for him.

The only screentime you get is when the hotel has movie nights or whenever anyone that's not Alastor is babysitting you lets you watch cartoons.

Teaches you how to cook Louisianan dishes, like how his mother taught him.

I imagine he reads you the original version of the grimm brother fairy tales.

You get him this shirt and he wears it as a pajama or whenever Lucifers near by.

He doesn't seem like the type to drive but if he does he plays jazz and talks about it like how dad's talking about rock or whatever they listen to.

Dad jokes, dad jokes galore.

Vox

Firstly I am so sorry that you're an iPad kid!

Does NOT LEAVE YOU ALONE with Valentino,

Depending if you're biological child from his time alive or not you might actually have a screen head.

iPad kid, iPad Dad.

Valentino is smart enough to know that he's not to mess with you but it's Valentino.

Velvette is either your aunt, older sister figure or cousin figure.

Definitely gives you all the latest electronics.

I'm pretty sure you're a nepotism baby here so you wanna star in a movie? A regular NON- Valentino film? You're the main character! You wanna start a singing career? Hatsune Miku who?

You probably have your own show on his TV programs.

Someone upsets you? You're whipping out your phone and calling Daddy.

Like my other Dad vox headcanons, You just chill out in his office at times, or chill out in the back while he's hosting a meeting popping in with your two cents every once in awhile.

In the totally unlikely event that he gets taken out during extermination, you get Voxtech.

Husker

If you're underage he's not giving you drinks, doesn't matter that you're both in hell, you're not drinking underage!

He's definitely the type of dad to let you take a sip from his beer during like new years or something though but like not a whole bottle.

I personally headcanon that he's been divorced like twice and has at least two kids so who knows you might have a sibling running around somewhere!

I imagine you're also a cat, meow.

He's actually a decent dad, definitely supports you in whatever you wanna do although grumpily.

Has a picture of you as a baby in his wallet, or hat.

You mention you like that specific brand of chips? He's getting you some every time he goes to the store.

Your favorite soda is A PAIN TO FIND? and it's only at specific stores? He gets you a couple of them whenever he sees them.

Teaches you magic tricks and also how to gamble,

He taught you everything he knows.

Happy Father's Day folks! I hope you have a wonderful day and spend time with your fathers/father figures or if you don't have one of those that you have a good day regardless,

Despite the oddly common assumption, I do infact have a Dad, so I will be hanging out with my dad until he has to leave because he's going to a game, as always thank you for tuning in!

Psst! You should totally join our discord server!

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

FILE UNDER: "THIRSTY THURSDAY," BEER POSTERS, GRAPHIC DESIGN, JAPANESE BEER, POSTER DESIGN, JAPANESE STYLE, ETC...

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on some of the first advertising posters for Sapporo Beer, featuring kimono-clad geishas to appeal both to domestic audiences and the export markets of Asia and further afield (U.S. and Europe), c. early 20th century. Artists unknown/undisclosed.

Source: https://thriftytraveller.wordpress.com/category/japan/sapporo-beer-posters.

[simplyraeblue]

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misery loves company (denki kaminari x reader)

ALL CHARACTERS AGED UP !femreader he was only supposed to get your number. you were supposed to stop rushing into things. but when there's undeniable sparks, neither of you kept to your word. WARNINGS/TAGS: fluff, swearing, fem reader word count: 2,680 A/N: this can be read as a one-shot, but I plan on starting another MHA mini-series, this time starring Denki! this can be read as a one shot as well, and eventually there with be an MDNI. idk, I feel like he doesn't get as much love, and I adore the man. there will be eventual smut, but I love cutesy Denki fics. (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this WIP I will happily start one! ♡︎

part one | part two

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this was quite possibly the worst night of his life. literally, he might die. Denki Kaminari was no stranger to getting his advances shot down but getting ghosted? whole new ball game.

so, for tonight he’d drown his sorrows with booze and his friends.

Kirishima, with quiet efficiency, slid another beer towards him. Kaminari grabbed it with a swift motion, lifting it to his lips and chugging it for perhaps a bit too long. “whoa, man, slow down,” Kirishima advised gently, placing a steadying hand on Kaminari’s shoulder.

“not a chance,” Kaminari shot back, tipping the bottle back again with determination.

“let him get plastered,” Bakugo muttered from his stool at the bar, a scowl on his face. “the idiot’s going to be a blubbering mess by the end of the night.”

“yeah, I’m not dealing with that,” Sero chimed in, crossing his arms in an x. “last time you puked on my brand-new carpet.”

Kaminari pouted, resting his head in his hand. “aw, come on. I’ll just get you a new one,” he said, though his voice carried a hint of defeat. he hadn’t planned on getting so drunk tonight, but he definitely needed something to numb the pain. the number of couples surrounding his group didn’t help matters.

Kirishima clapped his hands on Kaminari’s shoulders with enthusiasm. “maybe you should get back out there and start playing the field! one girl shouldn’t get you down.” he suggested, his face alight with a wide, encouraging smile.

Sero, grinning and holding up his drink, joined in. “yeah, we can make it a little game! like maybe if you get a girl’s number, we’ll buy you a drink.”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. “I’m not paying for anything. he barely knew her for a week,” he grumbled, his tone making it clear he was less than enthusiastic about the idea.

Kaminari appreciated his friends' support, but he wasn’t sure he had the courage to try. his heart was still too raw, and he didn’t think he could handle rejection right now.

“how about… trying with that girl over there?” Sero suggested, pointing across the room. “to the left a little bit – yeah, right there.”

Kaminari turned to follow Sero’s outstretched finger and saw you. you were seated with a group of friends, laughing and enjoying your drink. the sight of you made his breath catch. you wore skin-tight jeans and a crop top that left little to the imagination. as if that wasn’t enough to make him nervous, the way you tipped your head back and laughed made his heart race.

“no way, she’d shoot me down in a heartbeat,” Kaminari pouted as he looked at you, feeling a pang of self-doubt. you were far too attractive for him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d reject him instantly.

“if you’re too chicken, I’ll give it a shot first,” Bakugo said with a smirk, clearly enjoying the challenge. Kaminari could see through Bakugo’s strategy—it was a classic move, and it was working.

before Bakugo could even push himself off his stool—his intention clear as he started to rise—Kaminari abruptly stood up and shot him a sharp, determined look. “I’m going,” he declared, his voice resolute. his friends erupted in cheers, their support ringing in his ears as he steeled himself and began to head towards your table.

just as you were a breath away from him, you stood from your chair unaware of his approach.

you told your friends you were heading to the bar for another drink. as you turned to navigate through the crowd, you collided with someone. “oh, jesus, I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, catching yourself on their arm as you stumbled from the impact.

Kaminari’s hand instinctively gripped your upper arm to steady you, and as you looked up, your eyes met his. up close, you were even more striking than he’d anticipated. your gaze was intense, making his heart skip a beat and sending his thoughts into a whirl.

he struggled to find the right words but managed to ask, “don’t worry about it. were you heading to the bar?”

you nodded, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks as you assessed him. he didn’t seem like a creep—actually, he was quite cute and appeared genuinely friendly. not a bad start, you thought.

even though you had hesitated to come out with your friends, frustrated from yet another man ghosting you, you were suddenly very grateful they dragged you out. you always let your feelings cloud your judgement and lead you into a man’s bed – not that you were complaining – and your relationship didn’t go beyond physical. no dates, no call back, nada.

“let me buy you a drink. I’m Denki Kaminari,” he said, extending his hand towards you. you took it, noting the friendly gesture of a handshake, which was a refreshing change.

“only if it’s a really good drink,” you replied with a smile, “I’m y/n l/n.”

Kaminari grinned back and led you to the bar. as you walked, he glanced at his friends, who were giving him thumbs up and nods of approval, except for Bakugo, who watched silently with a raised eyebrow. Kaminari pondered his next move—buy you a drink, use a pickup line, and hopefully get your number? the pickup line seemed like a good idea.

once at the bar, Kaminari addressed the bartender. “I’ll have a refill on the Kaminari tab and whatever this pretty lady wants.”

you raised an eyebrow at the pretty lady comment but couldn’t help smirking. “I’ll have the same as he’s having.”

“what if you don’t like it?” Kaminari asked with a playful glint in his eye.

“meh, alcohol is alcohol,” you shrugged. as you were about to continue, you noticed three men behind Kaminari grinning and openly staring at the two of you. “um, are those gawking guys over there friends of yours?”

Kaminari whipped around, his glare cutting through the group. as soon as the men realized they’d been caught, they shuffled around, trying to look busy. Kirishima, however, made the scene even more comical by nearly toppling off his stool in the rush to appear occupied.

you couldn’t help but laugh as Kaminari sighed. “yeah, those three dumbasses are my friends.”

“they seemed pretty interested in us,” you teased, your eyes following the scene as the black-haired guy helped the redhead back onto his feet, both of them sporting bright red faces from their earlier stumble.

Kaminari scratched the back of his neck, a gesture that betrayed his unease. he worried that his friends had made things awkward or that you might find one of them more appealing—he suspected Kirishima might be the more attractive one in your eyes.

“well, actually—” Kaminari began, fumbling a bit, “—they were watching to see if I’d get your number. they’re trying to cheer me up.”

you turned your gaze from the boys back to Kaminari, noting the flush of embarrassment on his cheeks. it must have taken some balls to admit that to you. you decided to offer the most sincere support you could: honesty. “if it makes you feel any better, my friends dragged me out tonight to cheer me up, too.”

Kaminari’s eyes met yours, and you saw a flicker of hope in them. as the bartender set your drinks down and moved on to the next customer, you grabbed your bottle while Kaminari took hold of his. he raised his bottle in the air with a hopeful smile. “misery does love company, doesn’t it?” he said, offering a toast.

“I’ll cheers to that,” you replied with a smirk, clinking your bottle against his. as you took a sip, you tried desperately to not make a face at the taste, not wanting to bruise his ego but the beer tasted like actual piss.

Kaminari noticed your sour expression and grimaced. “don’t like it, huh? it is kind of a cheap beer,” he said with a regretful chuckle.

“no, no, it’s fine,” you insisted, trying to downplay your reaction. but as you took another drink, your attempt to mask your distaste failed, and you ended up coughing uncontrollably. Kaminari’s hand immediately flew to your back, patting it gently to help you recover.

“oh god, I’m so sorry,” he said, his face reddening with embarrassment. it seemed like every attempt he made to salvage the situation only made things worse.

as your coughing subsided, you managed a laugh. “Kaminari, it’s okay. really. just… an unexpected flavor is all.”

“shit,” Kaminari muttered under his breath, clearly frustrated. his gaze shifted away from you, and you followed it to see the blonde guy from his group striding over.

“oi, dumbass! are you trying to choke her with your cheap beer?” Bakugo called out, his tone light but clearly annoyed. a moment ago, Kirishima and Sero had begun a heated debate over who should intervene, but Bakugo decided to take matters into his own hands, clearly eager to see Kaminari squirm.

“Bakugo, chill—” Kaminari began to protest.

“ah, you must be the asshole of the group,” you interjected, pointing at Bakugo. he turned to gape at you, clearly taken aback by your boldness. Kaminari’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening in surprise as he realized you were standing up to Bakugo.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” Bakugo demanded, his eyebrows knitting together.

“well, every group has its types,” you explained with a confident grin. “you—” you gestured towards Bakugo, “—are the asshole. I’m guessing the redhead is the gym bro, and the black-haired guy is the quiet one.”

as if on cue, Kirishima and Sero waved at you from their seats, a slight smile on their faces.

“and what do you think this idiot is?” Bakugo asked, his hand firmly landing on Kaminari’s shoulder. you noticed how Kaminari stiffened under Bakugo’s touch, as if silently pleading you not to answer.

you took a moment to think before responding. “I’d say he’s the good-looking one.” you weren’t exactly lying, but you had a feeling your choice of words was going to get under Bakugo’s skin.

the effect was immediate: Bakugo’s cheeks flushed a deep red, while Kaminari’s face lit up with a pleased grin. Bakugo, flustered and without a retort, merely scoffed and turned on his heel, heading back to his friends. Kaminari, still grinning, let out an appreciative whistle next to you.

“it’s really rare to see someone stand up to him like that,” Kaminari remarked, his gaze lingering on Kirishima and Sero, who were laughing heartily at Bakugo’s expense.

you turned to him with a mischievous smile. “so, they’re waiting to see if you can get my number, right?” Kaminari nodded, his expression a mix of hope and curiosity. “well, what if you could offer them something even better?”

“b-better?” Kaminari stuttered, his mind racing in a thousand different directions as he tried to understand what you meant. among those thoughts was a particularly inappropriate one that he quickly shut down.

“mhm,” you murmured, moving closer to him until you were standing face-to-face. “what were they planning to do if you got my number?”

“buy me a drink,” Kaminari replied, a hint of confusion in his voice.

“that’s it?” you laughed, shaking your head. “men. you’re not thinking big enough.” as you pondered how to make their reward even more enticing, Kaminari fidgeted nervously in front of you, his eyes wide with anticipation.

“Denki—” you said his name softly, causing him to catch his breath. “they might end up buying you a lot of beers tonight.”

before he could fully grasp what you were hinting at, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed your lips against his. you hadn’t expected a quick kiss to feel this… electric. but when your lips touched his you felt a spark run through you, igniting every bone in your body with excitement.

Kaminari stood frozen for a moment; his eyes wide as he processed the unexpected kiss. the contact was brief but charged, leaving him tingling and slightly dazed. as you pulled away, you could see the realization dawning on his face.

“you… you really just—” Kaminari started, his voice a mix of surprise and delight. he fumbled for words, trying to catch his breath and process what had just happened.

you chuckled softly, enjoying the flustered look on his face. “yep, I did. and now, you might find tonight to be a lot more interesting than just a few drinks.”

Kaminari’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and he ran a hand through his hair, trying to compose himself. “so… does this mean I’m not just getting a number?”

“exactly,” you said with a teasing glint in your eye. “if they want to keep this party going, they might have to up their game.”

Kaminari’s eyes watched his friends as they pumped their fists in the air, clearly thrilled by the kiss they had just witnessed. his heart swelled with affection as he saw your amused reaction to their antics. in that moment, he thought you were truly amazing.

“they might not end up paying after all,” Kaminari said, glancing toward Bakugo, who still looked determined not to spend a dime. “Bakugo seemed pretty intent on not footing the bill.”

you tilted your head with a playful smile. “hmm… not even for two kisses?”

before he could respond, you reached up and gently cupped his face with your hands, pulling him down to meet your lips once more.

as your lips met his again, everything else fell away. forget the drinks, forget the stupid game his friends wanted him to play, he didn’t care anymore. Kaminari melted into the kiss, his hands instinctively rising to cradle your face. he savored the warmth and the electrifying sensation that surged through him.

this kiss was different—it wasn’t just a fleeting touch. the desire to deepen the connection surged through both of you. you felt a rush of passion as his hands settled on your cheeks, and you tightened your grip on the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. your bodies pressed together, the intensity of the kiss growing with every passing second.

“get a room!” someone shouted from behind you, and you and Kaminari broke apart, instinctively giving his friends a middle finger in unison.

the simultaneous gesture made you both burst into laughter. “do you think that was enough to get them to buy out the whole bar?” you asked between giggles.

“don’t know, don’t care anymore,” Kaminari replied, his hands lingering on your face. his thumb lightly traced your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine.

you blushed at the tender touch but managed to smirk. “forgotten all about your little game from that kiss?”

“I forgot about the game the moment you told me your name,” Kaminari said, his eyes locking onto yours with a look of sincerity. seeing your grin made his heart race with exhilaration.

“wanna get out of here?” you asked suddenly. realizing that your offer might echo your old habits, you quickly added, “we could go get ice cream?”

“ice cream sounds great,” Kaminari agreed, a wide smile spreading across his face.

let his friends’ minds wander and form their own assumptions, Kaminari thought. he was determined to get your number by the end of the night, because if he didn’t, he’d be driven mad trying to track you down in every bar afterward.

you swiftly gathered your things from the table and gave a brief explanation to your friends - who looked at you with puzzled expressions. returning to Kaminari, you grabbed his hand, feeling a thrill of excitement. as you headed towards the door, you glanced back at his friends and shot them a playful wink, followed by another cheeky middle finger.

each of their jaws dropped in surprise as Kaminari shrugged with a smug grin, clearly pleased with the turn of events. hand in hand, the two of you walked out of the bar, leaving behind a buzz of curiosity and speculation in the group of boys.

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✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ taglist: ------- if you want to be added to the tag list for this WIP, comment below! if you'd like to be added to any of my tag lists send a request via the "ask me anything" on my page! ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Link to Bakugo x reader here (word count: 2,328) Link to Kirishima x reader here (word count: 902) Link to Shoto x reader here (word count: 1,800) Link to Hawks x reader here (word count: 1,903) Link to Aizawa x reader here (word count: 1,930)

[lovelytsunoda]

still alive | pato o' ward

summary: pato's girlfriend really likes halloween. in fact, it's her whole brand. especially since her dad starred in 'scream' and 'scooby-doo' and 'five nights at freddys'. like seriously, this holiday was made for her

pairing: pato o' ward x lillard! reader

yn.lillard just posted to her story!

yn.lillard just posted

liked by patriciooward, matthewlillardofficial, indycar and others

yn.lillard its the most wonderful time of the year

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patriciooward my skeleton gingerbreads are cooler than your skeleton gingerbreads

-> yn.lillard say sike rn! we all know mine are better. i can call my dad and he can be the deciding vote

-> patriciooward no need, i ate them all already anyways :)

-> yn.lillard i love you you big dork

-> patriciooward i know. but do you love me as much as you love billy loomis?

-> yn.lillard see it sounds odd when you remember that to me, he's just uncle skeet.

davidmalukas you got the pumpkins i got the paint and the hocus pocus dvd. what do you say we all meet at yn's dads and have ourselves a pumpkin painting party?

-> yn.lillard you just want to drink beers with my dad and uncle skeet, don’t you?

-> matthewlillardofficial how does friday sound?

user they give such black cat orange cat energy

patriciooward added to his story!

yn.lillard

halloween horror nights

tagged: patriciooward, elbaoward

liked by patriciooward, yourbestfriend, skeetulrich and others

yn.lillard its a hot ghoul summer!!! #hhn24

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elbaoward please tell me you got a video of pato screaming when the clown on stilts came up behind him

-> yn.lillard of course i did, i'm the best girlfriend ever

-> patriciooward delete that

-> yn.lillard what are you going to do to make it worth my while? 😏

patriciooward repeat after me: pato you are the sweetest most loveable man on planet earth. god created men and then sent me as an apology

-> yn.lillard someone has a big ego (i love you too sweetheart!)

alexanderrossi so where is this video of pato

-> patriciooward GONE

-> yn.lillard ill send it to u when im done jumping his bones

-> matthewlillardofficial YN YMN LILLARD

user theres so much hot in this post i dont know where to look

Pato O'Ward talks victory at Milwaukee, summer break with his girlfriend and the first time he met future father-in-law Matthew Lillard

yn.lillard and patriciooward

tagged: patriciooward

yn.lillard hey google, play i miss you by blink 182

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yourbestfriend i realize there was a specific lyric you were trying to reference there but it is not coming across right bestie

-> yn.lillard ok let me be more specific *clears throat* HELLO THERE THE ANGEL OF MY NIGHTMARES THE SHADOW IN THE BACKGROUND OF THE MORGUE

patriciooward we can live like jack and sally if we want and we'll have halloween on christmas ❤️

-> yn.lillard and in the night we'll wish this never ends, we'll wish this never ends

user oh that boy is so whipped

skeetulrich kid why did i just get a text message from lover boy here asking if i knew your ring size?

-> yn.lillard YOU WHAT

-> patriciooward no reason!! totally not planning something!!

-> matthewlillardofficial ahem. do we need to have a talk?

-> patriciooward nope! all good here!

yn.lillard just posted to her story

[location tag: calgary, alberta]

MESSAGES BETWEEN YN AND HER FATHER

daddy

I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. And remember, I still have the Ghostface costume so if you ever need me to get rid of him, just give me a call.

yn

DAD! I promise you'll never have to do that.

daddy

Good. I'm looking forward to having him as my son in law.

[spikedfearn]

I Said Just a Little Bit, Then I Got a Taste of It

Chapter I

bjorn x fem!reader

summary: After being transferred to another sector of Jackson's Star you reluctantly befriend a ragtag group of people with the exception of one cocky asshole who knows just how to get under your skin.

On the surface, you hate each other, but after experiencing a particularly harrowing event together, the two of you grow closer than anyone else could ever imagine.

a/n: a few things to note: 1. I expanded the colony’s population from 2781 inhabitants to just under 20,000 for the different sectors to make sense/work. 2. Jackson’s Star remains a mining colony but it’s set up to be a little bit closer to a dystopian society so I can play around with different settings

warnings/tags: secret friends with benefits, enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol/drug use, sexual themes, non-linear narrative, trauma bonding, more tags to be added

wc: 2.6k

Masterlist Next Chapter

It's incredibly warm tonight.

Made warmer by the fire burning in the rusted out steel drum in front of you and the others sitting around it, a glass beer bottle held loosely in your grip keeping your palm cool, the condensation clinging to it feeling nice against your skin.

The sizzling pop of the kindling wood has you distracted, tracking the embers trailing off the flames dancing in the stifled air, smoke feeding up into the dense cloud cover overhead.

It's become a tradition of sorts. Drinking around a bonfire in the rock quarry with the people you've grown fond of, far and away from the other colonists residing in sector six, all flocking to the bars to take the edge off after another rough work week.

Well—with the exception of one cocksure asshole.

You can't help but look over as your thoughts wander to him, watching as said asshole takes another long swig of his beer, eyes drawn down to the prominent bob of his Adam's apple then up to his tongue, poking out to lick over his lips and mop up any stray drops.

Laughter breaks out around you in response to a joke Tyler cracks, not that you hear any of it, too busy quietly simmering in your lawn chair. He hasn't even done anything so far tonight, still—you know it's only a matter of time before something erupts between the two of you, something always erupts between the two of you.

Sure enough, he catches you staring before you have the chance to look the other way, his features rearranging into something familiar, something smug, eyes alight with the fire your chairs are circled around and a particularly annoying brand of haughtiness he carries himself with.

Your fingers tighten around the bottle, already knowing what's about to happen. Just when you thought you could get through one night without him royally pissing you off, he proves otherwise. He's as predictable as he is frustrating.

“Take a picture love, it'll last longer,” he smirks, the stupid kiss he blows in your direction and the cocky little tilt of his head causing anger to flare through you as a result.

“How do you manage to get around with your head shoved so far up your own ass,” you bite, cutting through the good natured chatter around you, everyone groaning their displeasure in response.

They've gotten used to it, you and Bjorn being constantly at each other's throats whenever you're forced to interact through hangouts with your mutual group of friends. You don't know how they put up with him, even if he is family with half the people here, you've known him for just shy of six months and you wanna throttle him every time he opens his big fucking mouth.

You hear Navarro mutter something like, “god, here we go again,” under her breath, already sounding exasperated by your increasingly heated exchange. They all are, having put up with it since the night the two of you first met, when he said something stupid and snotty enough to make you bite his head off in front of everyone, setting the tone for your dynamic going forward.

“If you wanna sit on it you just hafta’ ask nicely, princess,” he says, words punctuated by an arrogant chuckle, canines gleaming broadly in the concentrated light.

"How about I chop it off instead, hmm? Do the world a favor and stop you from procreating?"

"Then you'd have nothing to drool over, now would you?" He fires back, running the flat of his tongue over his teeth.

“You know what,” you announce, feeling your blood begin to boil just beneath the surface, draining the rest of your beer before tossing it into the bushes with the others, “I think I'm gonna call it a night.”

It's not worth it, getting into it with Bjorn for the umpteenth time. It's been another rough week for everyone down in the mines, hands cracked and calloused, a residual cough still clogging all your diaphragms from inhaling the fumes permeating through the underground tunnel system.

That and you don't want to be liable for ruining everyone else's good time with your petty grudge, no matter how justified you might feel.

Besides—it's pointless, talking to Bjorn, your conversations (if you can call them that) are never constructive, typically involve him saying something intentionally rude or brash that has you exploding in anger, like it's his entire aim to piss you off.

Kay tugs lightly on your wrist in an attempt to convince you to sit back down and stay for just a little longer but the night’s been soured and your mind already made.

So you wish everyone apart from Bjorn to have a good rest of their night before swiftly turning around and leaving the quarry, the voices of your friends fading away in the shortly crossed distance, hearing Tyler reprimand his cousin for being “a right knob.”

They've all tried playing mediator at one point or another, hoping to get to the root of the problem, because that's what they're all good at, what they've been trained to do since they were big enough to harness a mining drill, to excavate all paths for valuable material.

And you appreciate their concern, you really do, having almost forgotten what that felt like—having someone care, but there isn't anything deeper to it, your mutual hostility for one another, Bjorn’s just an asshole and you don't tolerate anyone's bullshit.

Nothing more, nothing less.

You hear the rapid crunch of gravel approaching behind you, looking over your shoulder to see Kay jogging to catch up with you. You cease walking, allowing her to reach you, a buzz circulating through your veins.

“Hey,” Kay greets, a little breathless, coming to a halt once she's standing right in front of you, baby bump prominent beneath the overalls she's wearing, “don't let my asshole cousin get to you.”

“Too late,” you snort, sufficiently bothered by everything that's occurred over the last twenty minutes. You can't help it, how quick to anger you are when it comes to him, he just has this way of getting under your skin in a way no else can.

“I still don't get how you and Tyler are related to him. You're both so sweet and Bjorn is—Bjorn.”

She echoes your snort, eyes drifting back towards the bonfire, glowing like the lit end of a cigarette from this far away, “I know I know, trust me. He can be a bit…abrasive.”

You're powerless to stop the scoff that leaves you, gaze following Kay’s, "a bit?"

“Okay, he's really abrasive, but he means well. Usually.”

Maybe it's out of familial obligation that Kay—and to a greater extent Tyler, feel the need to excuse Bjorn’s shitty behavior, but it's really starting to wear on you.

“Does he? Because I sure as fuck don't feel that way. I think he just gets off on being a massive dickhead and I'm the only one who’ll call him out on it.”

Kay reaches out to you, letting her take hold of your hand, giving it a light squeeze, “I get it, I do. It's just—Bjorn’s been through a lot and keeping people at arm’s length is how he copes with everything. He's not all bad.”

You hate that she's right. He isn't all bad. You've witnessed it, how tender he can be with the people he cares about most, how protective he is of them. Like picking up Tyler's obligatory shifts when he came down with a bad case of the flu or getting into bar fights whenever some rando makes an unwanted pass at Rain or Kay or how he naturally steps into the big brother role even though he's younger than Navarro.

But the thing is—“we've all been through a lot.”

It’s true. You've all been born into the same shitty circumstances, forced to work in the mines until you inevitably die from black lung or some other variant of respiratory disease, that is if a mining collapse doesn't kill you first.

“We have,” Kay agrees, coughing into the crease of her elbow as if to prove your point, “all of us. But I think you two especially, and that's why you guys butt heads all the time. You're both super alike.”

“That's a really, really low blow,” you remark dryly, your eyes finding Kay’s again.

“No, I'm serious,” she laughs, her giggles tapering off into a small, winded smile. "You both have your walls up and you're both stubborn as fuck," parroting your earlier emphasis.

Which is also frustratingly true. You know everyone's story, all having opened up to you over time, as they integrated you into their little patchwork family.

Although—most of them can't say the same about you, having buried most of your trauma way down deep, further than any of them could reach. They know you don't have a family, that you've spent most of your life alone prior to your transfer but that's the extent of it, all you've been willing to share.

And they never push for more, letting you divulge personal information at your own pace, no matter how limited or vague it is, something you're immensely grateful for, more than they could ever know. It's a big reason why you've allowed yourself to get close to them despite your trepidation, forging emotional attachments even after promising yourself you never would again.

“You're right,” you concede, rolling your eyes playfully when Kay hums back, “always am.”

“Listen. I’ll do my best not to let him get to me—next time, but I really am tired, tired and sore, so. See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” she affirms, squeezing your hand one last time before letting you go, cautioning you to “be safe!” as you resume walking.

The streets are empty as you move through them, navigating your way back to your shoebox of an apartment, half the streetlights lining the residential sidewalks flickering or out entirely. Which isn't unusual, like the higher-ups governing Jackson's Star would ever care for the upkeep of anything outside the mines.

Trudging through the door and relocking it behind you, you make your way down the tiny corridor leading into your bedroom, shoulders sagging in relief.

It's the only place you can ever truly relax, always looking forward to being able to pop some sleeping pills before crawling into bed immediately after, a short reprieve—the only reprieve—from the grueling sixteen hour work days you're subjected to.

You unscrew the cap on the pill bottle left on the nightstand by your bed and dry swallow two of them, too lazy and too tired to grab a glass of water in the little kitchenette in the next room over.

Thank god you have tomorrow off, planning to sleep in till noon if you're able to, what with your internal body clock having grown incredibly accustomed to getting up at the same time the other six days of the week.

You look out the sole window in your room, blinds drawn wide, everything around you bathed in red from the neighboring neon ‘BAR’ sign bleeding in through the glass because of it. It's strangely comforting in its familiarity, like a beacon of light welcoming you back every time you return, a reminder that you're still here, still breathing.

The window is small and high up enough that you're not concerned about anyone seeing you undress, grabbing at the hem of your thin cotton t-shirt to drag it up over your head before removing your hair tie next, slightly shaking your hair out with your fingers.

Maybe it's the exhaustion coupled with the drone of the generator funneling power into your apartment but you miss the sound of your door opening and the footsteps that move down the hall toward you.

It's not until you're pulling the metal prong of your belt buckle out of the last notch that you hear a low whistle, causing you to jump, shoulders curling inwards to try and cover yourself up, one of your bra straps falling down your arm.

“Well don't stop on account o’ me babes.”

Your eyes narrow seeing him leaning in your doorway, arms crossed over his chest with the sole of one boot planted against the doorframe, emphasizing the toned muscle hiding under his loose work shirt.

“I knew I'd regret giving you my door code.”

Bjorn chuckles back, that cocky little head tilt returning, “but then I'd miss out on this lovely little strip-tease.”

You feel your face grow warm in response, grateful for the red bar lighting masking your blush. “What are you doing here anyways? The others are gonna start noticing if we're always disappearing around the same time.”

“Relax,” he says, crossing the room to reach you, hands coming up to latch onto your shoulders while his thumbs press in between your shoulder blades, rubbing tight circles into your skin to loosen the tension gathered there, “everyone called it a night after ya’ little hissy fit.”

A scowl etches itself onto your face, though you do nothing to stop him from massaging your shoulders, “shut up, I'm still mad at you.”

“Hmm, are ya’ now?” He asks, leaning in close, until his plush lips are brushing your ear, “is that why you wuz giving me them fuck me eyes, love? All I said was ya’ just needa ask nicely.”

“That's what I'm talking about! You're making it too obvious. The last thing I want is everyone else finding out about this. About us.”

It's still relatively new, hooking up with Bjorn behind everyone's back, a recent development that's entirely altered the course of your dynamic.

He still goes out of his way to piss you off whenever he can, but there's something more there now, a teasing edge that implies an inside joke only the two of you are in on.

And, despite knowing the others wouldn't care, you want it to stay that way. After all, this thing you two have going on now, whatever it is, is casual. Meaningless. You see no point in telling them about something that'll most likely run its course soon, once you've gotten the overwhelming urge to touch each other out of your systems, whenever that'll be.

“And why’s tha?’” He whispers, drawing a fingertip over your stomach, from the elastic of your underwear up to your navel, causing you to shudder on reflex. “Embarrassed they'll know I don't jus’ get under your skin but inta ya’ pants too?”

“You're such a jackass,” you groan, feeling the solid mass of his body press up against you, his growing excitement poking you in the back. As you suspected, that's why he's here.

“Keep talkin’ dirty ta’ me babes,” he jokes, kissing a line down your neck, his fingers grabbing your chin to cock your head to one side, giving him more ground to cover, stubble scratching over your skin.

A soft moan escapes your lips, going pliant in his hands, Bjorn having mapped out all the sensitive spots that leave you weak-kneed and trembling, weaponizing his intel every chance he gets.

Your head falls back against his shoulder, letting him slide his hand down under the denim of your jeans, still in disbelief as to how you got here. Not that you would ever forget, the memory of that night still fresh in your mind.

[tinas1469]

@

backgrid_usa: English star Tom Holland signs autographs for fans outside Live with Kelly and Mark while promoting his new non-alcoholic beer brand ‘BERO Brewing.’ in New York City.

The actor, who is starting a new venture, also shared insights about his journey to sobriety during his interview.

📷: @backgrid_usa