#almost perfect sitcom

[i-have-weird-selfships]

[heyseihai]

Divine blessing sprite is giving me so many ideas for Seihai and BoS Erika, it even sort of helped me get in the mood to edit Seihai with it.

I've also tried to edit her body and give her a more "non-slim" shape, given the amount of children she bears throughout the years.

So here goes my results. First one is halloween's dress, the second one is still wip \o/

[mendellover69]

Almost Perfect Stuff

Headcanon Generator

[winxanity-ii]

FIRST, TASTE [1/2]

ship: incubus!gojo x fem!virgin!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (oral sex/f. receiving; handjob/m. recieving; coercion/dub-con?) word count: 9.9k (long one babes, y'all know i gosta worldbuild/have a lil plot, lololol) a/n: Y'all, I can't believe I actually wrote this, i just wanted to try my hand at KINKtober😭; anywho, the idea of summoning an incubus just to get experience hit different and I HAD to do it. Anyways, enjoy this sinful lil one-shot. 'Know No Evil' update coming soon, probably on my birthday (Oct. 9) if I stay on schedule 👀…Prt. 2: 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃, 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid," you muttered, pacing frantically around your small dorm room. "How can you be this stupid?"

For the last half-hour, you'd been running back and forth like you were stuck in a sitcom montage, trying to prepare your space for your tutor session with Fushiguro Megumi.

And now, of course, he was almost here.

Usually, you weren't this disorganized.

The plan had been to clean and review notes way ahead of time, but somewhere between finishing the latest season of Sex Education on Netflix and getting lost in TikTok, the hours had slipped away.

Now, here you were shoving clothes under the bed and tossing old takeout containers into random drawers, hoping to make your room at least look like you had it together.

"Perfect, he'll show up and think I'm living in a trash heap," you grumbled, snatching up a pair of socks from under a pile of textbooks.

But there wasn't time to wallow; you needed to—

A knock echoed from the front door.

"Shit," you whispered, shoving random items under your bed as fast as you could. "I got it!" you called out, bolting towards the door, hoping to beat your roommate.

The last thing you needed was her making things awkward with whatever bizarre commentary she'd throw at the poor guy—

"Who's this?" Kugisaki Nobara's voice rang out from the hallway, her tone curious yet condescending.

You cursed under your breath, knowing what was coming. Great.

You made it down just in time to see Nobara standing by the door, hands on her hips as she sized up the person on the other side. The moment her eyes landed on Megumi, her lips twisted down in obvious distaste.

Megumi was standing on the other end of the door, wearing his usual bored expression, a dark hoodie thrown over his usual lazy attire of jeans and boots. His hair was messier than usual, sticking up in all directions like he hadn't even bothered with it.

"Ew... it's you," she said flatly, shooting him a withering look. "____, your teacher for dummies is here!" she called out, turning on her heel and walking away with an exaggerated flick of her hair.

You groaned under your breath, rubbing your temples in frustration. Why is she like this?

"Megumi! Hi," you said, trying not to sound too flustered as you opened the door wider for him. "Come on in."

"Hi," he muttered, stepping inside as if he were doing you a favor.

You flashed an awkward smile. "Sorry, about Nobara," you muttered, sending Megumi an apologetic look as you opened the door wider for him. "She's, uh... she's like that with everyone."

Megumi didn't seem fazed in the slightest. "I believe you," he replied dryly, stepping inside as if nothing had happened. He slipped off his shoes and tossed his backpack on the floor without so much as a second glance toward Nobara's retreating figure.

You sighed, closing the door behind him. "I swear, she's really not that bad once you get to know her."

He raised an eyebrow, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Sure."

You couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or if he just genuinely didn't care, but either way, you quickly changed the subject. "Let's get started," you said, leading him into your room, still feeling embarrassed by Nobara's less-than-friendly greeting.

Megumi didn't say much as he followed you, but he didn't have to. You'd known him long enough by now to recognize the tiny shifts in his expression. The raised eyebrow when he took in the state of the living room, the slight tilt of his head as he glanced at the bookshelves.

He was the type to quietly observe everything, and that somehow made you even more nervous.

You'd met Megumi in your first semester—by accident, really. He'd been the quiet guy who sat in the back of your chemistry class, always scribbling in his notebook but never talking to anyone.

When you got paired with him for a group project, you'd been terrified. The guy barely looked up when you introduced yourself, just grunted in response.

But over time, you found out he wasn't actually that bad. He had a sharp mind for chemistry and a dry, blunt sense of humor that caught you off guard.

And in exchange, you helped him navigate through the old math stuff that somehow came up again in your courses.

Now here you both were again—sophomore year, different majors, but stuck in the same required math class.

"Here we are," you said, gesturing to your bedroom door. You pushed it open and stepped aside to let him in first, already regretting the chaos you'd left in the room.

"Sorry about the mess," you muttered, nudging a stray bra under the bed with your foot as you walked in after him.

The faint scent of strawberries hung in the air, thanks to a candle you'd lit earlier in a desperate attempt to make the place feel less like a disaster zone.

Megumi barely glanced at the mess. "It's fine," he said, dropping his backpack onto your bed without a second thought.

You grabbed your notebook and the textbook, settling down at the small desk near the window. "Alright, let's get started."

"—and that's how you factor a quadratic expression," you finished, circling the final answer on the page with a satisfied hum.

Megumi leaned over, his eyes scanning the paper in that same quiet, intense way he always did. He was so focused it was almost intimidating.

You'd never quite gotten used to how he could make silence feel so heavy.

He nodded slightly, jotting down some notes in his notebook, but his eyes flicked back to you. You couldn't tell if he was impressed or just silently judging you.

"You're good at this stuff," he muttered, leaning back slightly.

You laughed a little, shrugging. "Heh. I guess. It's easier to explain than to actually do it myself sometimes."

"You're a better teacher than some of our professors," he added, which you weren't sure if that was praise or another dig at the fact that your school's faculty left a lot to be desired.

You glanced at the clock on your bedside table, noticing there were still about fifteen minutes left in your session. "We've still got a little time left. If you want, we can go over anything you didn't quite get—"

"Can I ask you something?" Megumi cut you off, his tone casual, but there was something behind it that made you pause.

"Uh, sure," you said, expecting a question about math or maybe something random about chemistry.

Instead, he asked, "Are you a virgin?"

The room fell silent. You stared at him, completely thrown off, and nearly choked on your own breath. "I—what?"

He tilted his head, like you hadn't heard him. "Are you a virgin?" he repeated, slower this time, as if asking for clarification.

Your face immediately went hot, and you sputtered, "W-Why the hell would you ask something like that?"

He leaned back slightly, his lips curling into the faintest smirk. "Just curious."

You crossed your arms defensively, feeling your heart race. "That's none of your business."

Megumi's gaze stayed on you, unbothered by your reaction. "Okay."

"Okay?" you repeated, narrowing your eyes. "What the hell does that even mean?"

His smirk widened a bit, and his voice dropped a little lower. "You mentioned Suguru earlier, right?"

Your stomach flipped at the mention of Geto Suguru, the subject of your daydreams; also known as the senior you shared an etymology class with your second semester last year.

He was... a lot.

Tall, handsome, intimidating, and way too charismatic for his own good; he had this effortless air about him that made you wonder why someone like him would even notice someone like you.

He was the kind of guy who made you nervous just by being in the room. But he was always hanging around Megumi, too, which only made things more confusing.

"Yeah, so?" you replied, trying not to sound as flustered as you felt. "What about him?"

Megumi leaned back on his hands, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "He'd probably be interested in your answer."

Your face went red. "What? Why would Suguru care if I'm—wait, did he... ask about me?"

Megumi's smirk turned into a full grin now, and he shrugged. "Maybe."

Your mind was racing. Why the hell would Suguru, of all people, ask anything about you? You were barely on his radar as far as you knew.

He was always surrounded by people—other seniors, girls who were way more confident and put together than you.

You fidgeted with your hands, trying to keep your voice steady. "Why... why would he care? Did he actually say something?"

Megumi chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You'd have to ask him yourself."

You stared at him, completely at a loss for words, but before you could fire back, he was already packing up his stuff, slipping his notes into his backpack with a lazy sort of ease.

"Thanks for the session," he said, standing up and throwing his bag over his shoulder. "Let me know if you need help with chemistry."

And with that, he was gone, leaving you sitting on your bed, still trying to wrap your head around what the hell had just happened. What the hell did Geto want with you? And why did Megumi look so smug about it?

You flopped back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"What the hell..."

"Fuck my life..." you mumbled under your breath, dragging your feet as you made your way across campus, your body feeling heavier than usual.

It had been a long day—scratch that, a long week—and you were running on fumes after pulling an all-nighter.

You knew better, but The Sims 4 had you in a chokehold last night, and before you knew it, it was 4AM., and your empire of perfectly crafted Sims families was more put together than your real life, and now you were paying the price.

Your last class of the day had been a blur, and you almost skipped it entirely. But the guilt of missing two classes earlier in the week pushed you out of bed at the last possible minute.

Now, with your bag full of heavy textbooks and your brain fried from back-to-back lectures, all you wanted to do was collapse.

You squinted against the afternoon sun as you approached the large fountain in the middle of campus. The sound of rushing water was soothing, but it did little to ease the pounding headache forming behind your eyes.

You weren't even halfway there when you spotted your roommate, Nobara, lounging on the fountain's edge, tapping away at her phone.

Her bright orange hair was styled in its usual sharp bob, and even from a distance, you could see the unmistakable confidence in the way she carried herself.

Nobara was nothing if not bold—always dressed to the nines, even for something as casual as sitting by the fountain; her outfit—ripped skinny jeans, a cropped leather jacket, and combat boots—screamed effortless cool.

By the time you reached her, you were practically dragging your feet.

Nobara glanced up from her phone and raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. "You look like shit," she said bluntly, without skipping a beat, holding out her coffee cup.

You didn't even hesitate, reaching for the cup with a grateful nod. "Thanks, I spent all morning on it..." you mumbled, taking a long sip of the lukewarm coffee. The caffeine was probably your only hope of making it through the rest of the evening.

Nobara's eyes flicked over your disheveled appearance—your baggy hoodie with matching swats, the dark circles under your eyes, and the way your hair was barely stuffed inside a silk bonnet. She chuckled, shaking her head. "Late night?"

You nodded, swallowing another sip of coffee. "Pulled an all-nighter... Sims 4."

"Gods," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "You really need to get a life outside of video games."

You shot her a half-hearted glare. "You try building a perfect six-story mansion with an indoor pool and jacuzzi, okay? It's not as easy as it looks."

She snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Anyway, I'm heading out to a party later," she said, flipping her phone in her hand with a casual air. "Frat thing. You coming?"

You groaned at the thought of a loud, crowded frat party. "I don't know; I've got a ton of studying to do," you said, even though you knew that was only half-true. You mostly just wanted to crawl into bed and zone out for a few hours.

Nobara didn't let you off that easy. She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Suguru going to be there."

You paused, trying not to let your face show too much interest, but the mention of Suguru was enough to make your pulse quicken.

"I—" You waved her off, trying to keep your cool. "I really should study. Plus, it's not like he even knows I exist."

Nobara scoffed. "Please. He totally knows. You've tutored Megumi, right? I'm sure they talk."

You felt a blush creep up your neck. "That's not the same thing," you said, finishing the last sip of her coffee and handing the empty cup back.

"Suit yourself," Nobara said with a shrug brushing invisible dust off her shirt. "But you're missing out. I heard he's single again, you know."

Just as you were about to reply, something—or rather, someone—caught your eye. Like a prairie dog sensing danger, you shot up straight, heart skipping a beat as you spotted a familiar figure in the distance.

It was Suguru.

Your breath hitched as you took in the sight of him. His long dark hair was tied back into a neat man bun, showcasing his sharp jawline and the broad expanse of his shoulders under a fitted black shirt.

He had this effortless cool about him that made you want to stare—but then again, everyone did. He was the kind of guy who turned heads without trying, and right now, he looked annoyingly handsome as usual.

Panicking, you ducked behind a nearby group of walking students, trying to hide your figure as if Suguru could sense you from all the way across campus.

Nobara sucked her teeth, clearly unimpressed with your theatrics. "Seriously?" she muttered, shaking her head. "You are so childish."

Before you could stop her, Nobara stood up, waving her arm in the air like a flag to catch his attention.

"No!" you whispered harshly, nearly choking on the last bit of coffee as you grabbed her arm and tried to drag her back down. "Stop drawing attention!"

Too late.

A shadow fell over you, blocking the sun, and you looked up, heart hammering in your chest. Standing above you was none other than Suguru, his lips curled into a faint smile as he took in the scene.

"Hey, Nobara," he said smoothly, his voice deep and almost teasing. His dark eyes flickered to you, and your entire body went rigid. "____, right?"

Your heart skipped several beats, your breath catching in your throat as you scrambled to respond. "Y-Yes!" you squeaked out, your voice way too high for your liking. Your face felt like it was on fire, and you were sure your face was hot enough to cook an egg on.

Nobara snorted beside you, shaking her head as she muttered under her breath. "Simp," she said, barely loud enough for you to hear, though Suguru didn't seem to catch it.

You glared at her, silently willing her to shut up and stop making things more awkward, but of course, she wasn't about to let you off the hook that easily.

Instead of making small talk or letting the moment pass, Nobara turned to Suguru, crossing her arms with a mischievous grin. "Hey, Suguru. My friend here thinks you're hot and wants to fuck."

Your jaw dropped, and for a second, you were sure your soul left your body. "What?!"

Nobara flashed you a wicked grin before air-kissing you goodbye and casually tossing over her shoulder, "See you at the party later, Suguru!"

And just like that, she strutted off, leaving you sitting there wide-eyed and horrified.

A smooth chuckle broke through your panic, pulling you back to reality. You turned slowly, only to find Suguru standing there, hands tucked into his pockets, looking down at you with an amused tilt of his head.

"So... fuck, huh?" he teased, his voice warm and smooth like honey.

You stammered, trying to form any coherent response, but all that came out were mumbled syllables. Your brain was short-circuiting, your face burning hotter with every passing second.

Finally, you gave up and buried your face in your hands, turning your back to him in pure embarrassment.

Suguru let out another chuckle, taking a few steps closer until his tall frame was towering over you. "You're cute," he said softly, reaching down and gently patting your head. The simple action made your entire brain spiral into chaos, and before you knew it, you were already mentally planning your wedding, picking out baby names, and deciding where you'd honeymoon.

But then Suguru's voice cut through your delusions.

"I'm flattered, really," he said, his tone a little more serious now. "But I've got this rule about not dating freshmen."

You blinked, looking up at him in confusion, the fantasy bubble bursting in an instant. "W-What?"

Suguru shifted awkwardly, running a hand through his hair as he glanced to the side. "I mean, it's not that I'm some international playboy or anything," he said, hesitantly but sure of himself. "I'm just... not really looking to settle down. So I try to keeps things simple by steering clear of freshmen. Because... ya know, it's thier first timers for a lot of things."

You pouted, a bit confused by what he meant. But than, realization dawned and you felt your heart shatter. He thought you were a freshman... and that was why he wouldn't be interested in you.

Even then, your heart leaped for a split second before reality set in again. Though you weren't a freshman, you were still a virgin. So technically his rule applied to you as well.

A soft "Why?" slipped from your lips before you could stop yourself. You were so focused on the fact that you were losing your chance that you didn't even think to correct him.

Suguru sighed, his expression softening. "It's just... I don't want to be the guy who takes that kind of experience from someone, you know? I prefer if the people I'm with have already been through that, so there's no pressure." His voice was calm, almost gentle, as if he was trying to explain something important without hurting your feelings. "It's not fair to put that on someone who's still figuring things out."

Damn, even his explanation was surprisingly sweet.

You couldn't help but appreciate how thoughtful it was. But that didn't stop the disappointment from settling in your chest like a heavy weight. You didn't know what to say—what could you say?

Taking your silence as sadness, Suguru bent down slightly, his face closer to yours, and gave you another light pat on the head, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You know... you're cute enough that I might just break that rule." He winked, and with one last chuckle, he turned on his heel and walked off, leaving you sitting there, completely dazed.

You sat frozen, unable to do anything but replay his words in your head, even as the mortification continued to burn at your core. "What the fuck..."

A few hours later, you found yourself on your phone, mindlessly scrolling through his Instagram profile, looking at his pictures. "He's so handsome," you sighed. You stared at the 'follow' button, your finger hovering over it.

Hyping yourself up, you quickly pressed the follow button before throwing your phone down. "Okay, there, first step down," you muttered to yourself.

Your thoughts kept circling back to Suguru's words. He thought you were a freshman, but even if he knew you weren't, it wouldn't change anything.

You were still inexperienced.

You let out a groan, rubbing your temples as frustration began to mount. Gods, what would Nobara do? you thought to yourself before shaking your head with a scoff.

Nobara wouldn't even be in this mess... still.

Without much thought, you opened laptop, typing into the search bar: 'How can I gain sexual experience without having sex?' Hundreds of articles popped up at once. Your eyes skimmed through the list.

[Self-love] ~ Tips on how masturbating can get you ready for sex

No.

[PornHub] ~ Virgin girl indulges in sex for the first time

No.

[First-Timers] ~ Website for virgins who are looking for companions

No.

[Phone-Sex] ~ Let your wildest fantasies come to life

No. No. NO.

You dropped your head into your hands, groaning, "This is useless."

Just as you went to click off the tab, something caught your eye.

'Want to gain sexual experience without actually having sex? Click here to join a forum that shows exactly how it can be accomplished!'

You leaned forward, interested. "Hello..." you hummed out loud, about to click the link. You narrowed your eyes at the link, not fully sure if you should trust it or not. With pursed lips, you weighed the pros and cons of the situation.

On one hand, if you clicked on it, it could take you somewhere that might actually help with your current predicament.

But on the other hand, if you didn't, you'd be right back to square one, knowing nothing.

Though, if you did click it, there was a chance you'd end up with a virus—something that would be a real pain to get fixed. "Eh, the school's got multiple computer labs," you shrugged.

With your mind made up, you clicked on the link. You crossed your fingers and prayed to whatever gods above that the website wouldn't give you a virus.

As you scrolled through the page, you came across dozens of supernatural-esque things like shifting, astral projection, spells, etc.

One would think you'd scroll past these because they sounded ridiculous, but the truth was...

"Ugghhh, why does all this shit take weeks to accomplish!?"

...you were very impatient.

Now, you could be patient for a lot of things, but this!? You couldn't risk it. Not when the only factor in your way of being with Suguru was your lack of experience—the full kind.

Not shy kisses in the corner, the short relationships that never lasted once they realized you didn't put out so soon, the disastrous first time performing third base—a memory you would shackle to the depths of your soul if you could.

A bright flash of a blue fire gif caught your eye breaking you out of your growing frenzy.

'Welcome to Infernium,' the post read, with a subtitle that said, "Harness the Power of Lust, Control Your Desires." The page description underneath it was almost like an introduction. It began with: "When I first wanted to experience sex, I just summoned a succubus..."

You skimmed down the post, reading about how Infernium was a different plane of the Abyssum—a shadowy, otherworldly realm that resembled Hell. It was a place where demons thrived by feeding on the raw, intangible energy that fueled human desires and emotions. They didn't outright steal your soul or kill you, but every encounter took a piece of your essence—leaving you feeling just a bit emptier each time.

It was subtle, like losing fragments of yourself—small enough to be overlooked but accumulating with every visit, a price that was insidious and ever-present.

Buuuut...

Instead of reading all of that thoroughly, you scrolled down to the comments section.

As expected, there was a mixture of disbelief, trolls, and snarky remarks. But the further you went, the more positive reviews you found. Some were so detailed that they seemed like fanfics or book excerpts, but something in your gut told you this could be real.

You got lost reading those comments, short anecdotes of people describing their experiences with different succubi and incubi.

Honestly, thought this was BS, but turns out it was one of the wildest nights of my life—didn't even need a safe word, 'cause this dude knew exactly what he was doing. - DarkDreamer99

Mine had pink eyes! Super freaky at first but, not gonna lie, 10/10. - PinkObsession

Listen, if you've never experienced this, you're missing out. Seriously. Just follow the steps, and don't skip anything. - LustfulWanderer

And then you found it—the gold mine. A comment by someone named Sinner_69. They detailed a step-by-step guide on how to do everything, from setting up the ritual to what materials were needed.

Now, common sense said not to go blindly trusting internet comments, but even the author of the post had replied, thanking Sinner_69 and reviewing their method with raging approval.

Your eyes widened, and you blinked at the comment, not sure if you should laugh or close the window. Curiosity got the better of you, and you kept reading down the list.

"Okay, let's see... a bowl, sage, needle, candles..." you mumbled to yourself, going over the list out loud.

The door to your room opened, and you slammed your laptop shut, looking up to see Nobara.

She was still in the same outfit from earlier but had changed into a shorter crop top that showed off her midriff. "Are you sure you don't want to come to the party?" she asked, giving you one last chance.

You waved her off, "Nah, I'm good."

"Alright, suit yourself," she said with a shrug, heading out the door.

As soon as she left, you reopened the laptop and gave the post one more glance. You muttered, "What the hell?" when you saw that an blood was needed. "Goddammit ____, why do you put yourself through this?" you mumbled out loud, heaving yourself off of your bed and rushing over to put your boots on. "I'm so gonna regret this," you sighed, grabbing your jacket and keys on the way out.

"Okay, let's see here, it says first I need..." you read to yourself, pushing up your reading glasses when you felt them slipping.

Within an hour, you managed to not only gather all the supplies needed for the 'summoning' but also completed the first half of the directions.

Though it took a total of three stores, and several judgmental looks from the cashier when buying the demon wards from the Halloween store, you could say it was a success.

Now, you sat in the middle of the circle, allowing the smells of the incense to calm you down. The window in your bedroom was cracked open, letting the warm night breeze filter in. It carried with it the gentle rustle of leaves from outside, and the occasional distant hum of passing cars.

The soft movement of air made the candle flames flicker slightly, casting shifting shadows across the walls. The atmosphere was both soothing and unnerving, as if the room itself held its breath, waiting.

With your eyes closed, you began to chant the words found on the post.

"I, L/N  ____, pledge to give myself to the powers of the other side in order to fulfill my desires," you said, your voice loud and steady as you recalled the article stating that the spirits would only listen to those who were willing to give up their all, "my desire is to be presented with an entity that will ensure not only a gain in sexual knowledge as a virgin, but give me confidence to pursue an individual that has currently caught my eye."

After a few seconds of silence, you moved on to the next step. With a deep breath, you began the incantations, "Daemonium de desiderio. Dolores inferni circumdederunt me gratia tua." Your voice remained steady as you repeated this three times. You took another deep breath, trying to keep yourself calm. "It's now or never, ____," you told yourself, remembering the next step of the ritual. "You've come this far to chicken out now."

The candlelight flickered slightly, and you shivered, feeling a chill run through your body. "Just relax, ____, just make a little prick, no biggie," you muttered, gripping the needle tightly between your trembling fingers as you held your hand over the wooden bowl filled with a mixture of herbs and other ingredients. The dim glow of the candles reflected off the small needle in your hand.

Taking a deep breath, you placed the tip of the needle against your thumb, mumbling to yourself, "Just a little prick, just a little prick..." over and over. But the moment the sharp point touched your skin, panic set in.

The thought of pain—no matter how minor—made your stomach twist. You hated unnecessary pain, always had. Even the idea of a small cut was enough to make you wince.

Your hands began to tremble more, and tears of frustration welled up in your eyes. "I can't do it!" you cried, dropping the needle as your voice cracked. You shivered, your entire body tensing up in fear, unable to go through with the procedure. You sighed deeply, slouching forward, rubbing a hand down your face. "Gods, what's wrong with me," you muttered with a strained laugh, staring at the materials and the open laptop in front of you.

With a sigh, you reached over and shut the laptop, leaning back and preparing yourself for a mini-sad pity party. It felt ridiculous—summoning an incubus, just to fail because you couldn't handle a little pain. You shook your head, a self-deprecating smile tugging at your lips.

"Ow!" you suddenly yelped, yanking your hand up. You looked down to find the needle had somehow lodged itself between your thumb and index finger. Your eyes widened, a frown tugging at your lips.

You carefully pulled it out, wincing slightly at the sting before dropping it once more, not noticing as it fell directly into the wooden bowl below.

"Of course," you muttered under your breath, standing up as you sucked on the small wound. You walked towards the bathroom, looking for a band-aid, completely oblivious to what was happening behind you.

Unbeknownst to you, the mixture in the bowl began to bubble slightly, the herbs slowly dissolving as the blood mixed in with the ingredients. The candles flickered again, their flames stretching upwards as if reaching for something.

A strange energy began to fill the room, the air becoming heavy, almost electric. The curtains of your window began to flutter, almost as if someone had crept inside the confines of your room.

"Oh, come on," you groaned as you rummaged through the cabinets, coming up empty-handed. With a sigh, you gave up, shaking your head as you left the bathroom.

As soon as you returned to your room, every single candle surrounding you suddenly went out at once, as if someone had blown them out like birthday candles.

Your eyes snapped open, fear beginning to grow within you as you realized you were suspended in darkness.

This wasn't the typical darkness you were used to—it felt heavier, more inky, like it was swallowing up every ounce of light. The only light you were gifted with was from the moon outside your window, its dim rays barely illuminating the layout of your room.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. Timidly, you felt your way over to your bedside table, fingers fumbling as you reached to flick on the lamp.

You pressed the switch—once, twice—but nothing happened. Panic began to build inside you, your mind racing as you desperately tried to make sense of the situation.

Pulling out your phone, you quickly checked for any notifications. A message from the RA popped up in the group chat: "Heads up everyone, the power will be on and off tonight due to maintenance fixing the breaker. Will keep y'all updated." You sighed, your fingers trembling slightly as you lowered your phone. "Great timing," you muttered under your breath.

Determined not to let the eerie atmosphere get the best of you, you reached into your bedside drawer, searching for your lighter to relight the candles for light. Your fingers brushed against the cold metal, and you pulled it out, flicking it on with shaky hands.

The small flame flickered to life, casting a warm glow that provided you with a bit of comfort, even if it wasn't much.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves as you glanced around the darkened room. Something felt off—the air was thick, charged, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you weren't alone.

Walking back over to one of the candles, you flicked it on, ready to light the candles back up, thinking that the wind from outside might have blown them out. Leaning forward to the first candle, you flinched when you heard a thump from somewhere behind you.

You swiveled your head left and right, trying to see if you could find what caused the noise.

At once, all the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as the temperature of the room dropped. "...____..." A voice suddenly whispered out your name, the sound echoing as if someone was shouting in the distance.

You could feel your heart thrumming dangerously within your chest.

"...____..." It sounded breathless, somewhat taunting as it bounced around the room.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt a chill sweep throughout your body. It felt as if someone was sitting before you, blowing air into your face.

You squeezed your right hand, hoping that the pain would help anchor you amidst your whirling emotions, but it did nothing as your fear raged on like a fire scorching away.

With clenched eyes, you began to mumble soft hymns to yourself, "Jesus l-loves me, yes I know, f-for the Bible tells me so..." The tune was shaky as it left your trembling lips.

"Okay, breathe, ____, this is not real, it is only my imagination," you told yourself, repeating the sentence over and over again like a mantra. You felt your breathing calm down with the words, your shoulders relaxing as you began to believe in what you said. "See, it was just all in your head—"

You stopped breathing when you felt warm breath ghost over the side of your face, a pair of soft lips grazing the top of your ear.

"Aww," the voice teased, the tone dripping with mockery. "Did you really think a few little hymns would protect you? How precious..."

A blood-curdling scream exited your mouth just as the lights flickered on. You stumbled back, your heart pounding painfully against your ribcage. The lighter dropped from your hand, clattering to the floor as your wide eyes darted around the room.

Nothing. There was no one there.

The candles remained unlit, the curtains still, and the air seemed to have returned to its normal temperature.

But you knew—you knew—that you hadn't imagined it. Your skin still tingled from the feeling of those lips against your ear, and the echo of that mocking voice still reverberated in your mind.

Your eyes flicked to the bowl on the floor, the once-glowing mixture now dark and still. You backed up, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps as you tried to process what had just happened. "This can't be real," you whispered, your voice shaking. "This isn't happening."

Instead of hitting the wall, your back collided with something else—something firm and warm. Panic surged through you, and before you could react, a familiar voice drawled behind you, "You humans are so weird..."

You felt hands trail down your back, their touch sending a shiver through you as they moved down your arms before wrapping around your waist in a firm grip. The sensation wasn't just hands; it was claws, sharp yet careful, grazing your skin as if savoring every tremble you made. "...You wish for something, yet when it's in front of you, you deny it, run from it... How amusing."

Your breath felt trapped in your throat, your heart pounding wildly. Slowly, against every instinct in your body screaming at you to run, you turned around. The grip on your waist loosened slightly, allowing you to face whatever was behind you.

Your heart skipped a beat, your eyes widening as you took in the sight before you. He was tall—taller than any man you'd ever seen.

His hair was a stark, snowy white, almost glowing in the dim light of your room, and his eyes were an intense, piercing blue that seemed to look right through you. His chest was bare, revealing perfectly sculpted muscles, each defined line standing out under his honey-tan skin.

He was also wearing short silk boxers that stopped mid-thigh, the fabric clinging loosely to his form. The warmth of his skin contrasted with the sharpness of his presence, making him appear almost otherworldly.

But what truly caught your attention were the small, curled horns protruding from his head and the long, winding tail that lazily whipped behind him.

Your mouth opened and closed several times, but no words came out.

The incubus smirked, bending at the waist and bringing up a clawed hand. He used a single finger to gently scratch under your chin, then closed your mouth for you. "What's the matter... devil got your tongue?" he taunted, his voice laced with amusement.

You took a staggering step back, your heart racing. Finally, you managed to find your voice, though it was shaky. "I-It worked," you stammered, unable to keep the surprise from your voice. "You... you actually came."

The incubus grinned, stepping over the wooden bowl and chalk lines as if they meant nothing. He moved with a confidence that was both captivating and terrifying, his gaze never leaving you. "Of course I did. How could I resist such an earnest little summoning?"

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. He was here. An actual incubus was in your room, and the realization hit you like a ton of bricks.

This was real. You had actually done it.

The demon's eyes trailed over your form, taking in the sight of your tank-top and short sleeping shorts. His voice came out low and teasing, his head tilting slightly as he spoke. "So, you're the one who wants to gain some experience, huh?" he said, his voice dripping with amusement as he took a step closer.

You felt your face heat up, your cheeks burning at his words. In that moment, you forgot entirely why you had even done this whole ritual—caught up in the fact that it had actually worked. "I-I mean, I just..." you stammered, your words trailing off as you felt awkward under his intense gaze.

The demon took another step closer, towering over you. He let out a soft, almost mocking coo at your embarrassment. "Aw, don't be shy. You summoned me for a reason, didn't you?"

You nodded, barely able to meet his gaze. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears that it drowned out everything else. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, and you jumped slightly at the contact, your eyes snapping back to his.

"Relax," he murmured, his thumb gently stroking your skin. "I'm not gonna bite... unless you want me to." His smirk widened, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Your breath hitched, and you felt your entire body tense. He was so close, his presence overwhelming, and you could feel the heat radiating off of him. You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing, but it was impossible with him looking at you like that—with those eyes that seemed to see right through you.

The incubus's hand slid from your cheek down to your chin, tilting your head up so that you had no choice but to look at him. "You said you wanted to learn, right?" he whispered, his lips just inches from yours. "I can teach you... everything you want to know."

Just as he leaned down, about to press his lips against yours, you suddenly found your voice, stuttering out, "W-Wait!" You pushed past him, your hands trembling as you put space between the two of you.

You held up a shaky hand, trying to steady your breath. "Just... just give me a second, okay?" you said, your voice still trembling. You needed time to think—to understand what was happening, to process this overwhelming presence.

The incubus sighed, a sound that was almost a groan of frustration. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he crossed his arms over his bare chest. "You don't understand, sweetheart," he said, his voice laced with impatience. "I can't leave until our bargain is complete. You summoned me for a reason—until you lose your virginity, until we complete what you called me here for, I am bound to you."

Your eyes widened, and you swallowed nervously. "I... I know. It's just—" you paused, trying to gather your thoughts. "There's this guy, Suguru. I... I like him, but he doesn't mess with virgins, and I don't know what I'm doing. I thought maybe if I had some experience, I could... I don't know..." You trailed off, your face burning in embarrassment. The words tumbled out in a messy, awkward ramble, and you wished you could just disappear.

The incubus laughed, a low, amused chuckle that made your skin prickle. He slowly began closing the distance between you again, his eyes never leaving yours. "Oh, I see now," he said, a teasing lilt to his voice. "This is all for some boy, huh?"

You took a step back, shaking your head. "It's not like that! I mean, it is, but—" You stumbled over your words, watching as Gojo's smirk grew wider with every stutter.

He took another step forward, and you moved again, trying to keep the space between you. "I—I mean, I don't even know you like that," you stammered, your voice weak as you grasped for any excuse.

He froze, staring down at you as if you had just grown several heads. He raised an eyebrow, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement. Then, after a moment, he let out an amused scoff. "You don't know me, huh?" He shook his head, his eyes glinting with something wicked. "Fine, you can call me Satoru."

Before you could react, the incubus—Satoru—stalked toward you, his movements smooth and confident. You backed up until you felt the wall press against your back, your heart pounding as he stopped just inches away from you.

His arm came up, his palm resting flat against the wall beside your head, effectively pinning you in place.

"Listen, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "You wanted to learn, right? Well, you need to learn the basics first. You need to learn how to relax, how to let yourself feel..." His other hand reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm, trailing up to your shoulder. "How to respond to someone's touch."

Your breath caught in your throat, your entire body tensing as his fingers traced along your skin. The heat of his touch was almost too much, your heart racing as his words sank in.

You knew he was right—you had summoned him for this, to learn, to gain experience—but it was so much more overwhelming than you had imagined.

Satoru started speaking again, his voice pulling your attention back to him. He tilted your face up gently, making you meet his eyes as he hummed, "I understand... You're a virgin, after all." He said it softly, almost as if he was comforting you, but there was a teasing edge in his tone that made your cheeks flush even more.

Slowly, he backed away from you, his gaze never leaving yours until he stopped at the edge of your bed. He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he spoke again. "If you're not ready to start, that's fine. We can start slow... Maybe you could learn the signs of when a man wants you."

You blinked, confusion furrowing your brow. "What do you mean—?" you started to ask, but your tongue went dry in your throat as you watched him. Satoru's blue eyes darkened, his entire presence becoming almost magnetic as he leaned back on your bed, propping himself up on his hands.

His muscles flexed as he settled into the position, his sculpted chest and abs on full display, his honey-tan skin almost glowing in the light. You couldn't help but stare, your eyes following the lines of his body as he showcased himself. Satoru noticed your reaction, his smirk widening, clearly pleased.

"It's not hard to see the signs," he said, his voice smooth as silk as he spread his legs slightly, the movement confident and intentional. His tail whipped behind him lazily, the motion almost hypnotic as he continued speaking. "A man's body will tell you everything you need to know if you pay attention."

Your eyes flicked down, unable to help yourself as Satoru's hands moved slowly over his own skin. He rubbed his chest, his fingers tracing the defined lines of his muscles, before moving down to his thighs. His touch was deliberate, his fingers pressing into the firm muscle, and you could feel your face growing hotter with every passing second.

He let out a soft sigh, his eyes watching you intently as he continued. "The way his body reacts... the way he touches himself... all signs that he wants you." His voice was low, almost a purr, and it made your stomach twist with a mix of nervousness and something else—something that made your skin feel too hot, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

Satoru's hand moved lower, and before you could process what was happening, he pulled out his dick, the length thick and impressive as it flopped heavily against his stomach. His eyes never left yours as he did so, watching your every reaction.

Your eyes widened, embarrassment flooding you, but no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn't look away.

Your gaze was fixed on him, your breath catching in your throat as you took in the sight before you—the way it rested against his stomach, the veins prominent along the thick length, pulsing faintly. The pink, flushed tip stood out against the rest, glistening slightly.

The slight sheen of his skin under the dim light made every detail more vivid, and the trail of white hair leading down accentuated his toned muscles.

It was overwhelming, and yet, you were entranced.

He stroked himself slowly, his eyes glinting with amusement as he watched your reaction. "See, sweetheart? It's all about paying attention... learning what a man wants." His voice was a seductive whisper, his gaze holding you captive as he continued.

Satoru's hand moved in steady, deliberate strokes, his eyes never leaving yours. He let out soft groans, each sound making your stomach twist with an unfamiliar mix of nervousness and curiosity. The noise started out as barely audible sighs, but soon turned into deep, breathy pants that filled the room, echoing in your ears.

His gaze was locked on you, his blue eyes darkened with lust as he watched your every reaction—how your eyes widened, how your lips parted slightly, and how you shifted uncomfortably where you stood. His legs were spread out, his body relaxed as he continued to touch himself, his movements growing more purposeful with each passing moment.

He moaned, the sound low and drawn out, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. His hips began to move slightly, rising off the bed in response to his own touch. The veins along his length stood out even more as his hand moved faster, his breaths turning into shallow pants.

Satoru let out a low whimper, his eyes never breaking contact with yours. "____..." he murmured, your name slipping from his lips in a breathy moan that made your entire body tense. You squeezed your thighs together instinctively, trying to ignore the heat that was building inside you.

It was too much—his voice, the way he said your name—it all made you feel things you weren't sure how to handle.

He noticed, of course, his smirk widening as his eyes flicked down to your legs. "Aw, a-are you feeling it too, s-sweetheart?" he teased, his voice barely above a whisper. He let out another groan, his hips stuttering slightly as they lifted off the bed, his hand working faster over himself.

Satoru's movements became more urgent, his body tensing as he continued, his eyes still locked onto yours.

Every noise he made—every groan, every sigh—seemed to echo in your head, making it impossible to think of anything else but him and the way he was looking at you.

Satoru's movements became more urgent, his body tensing as he continued, his eyes still locked onto yours.

Every noise he made—every groan, every sigh—seemed to echo in your head, making it impossible to think of anything else but him and the way he was looking at you.

His eyes flashed a bright electric blue for a split second, and his voice came out husky, filled with need. "Come here," he commanded, and before you could even think, your feet were moving, obeying him.

You found yourself standing right in front of him, close enough that you could see every detail—the way his thighs twitched, the muscles of his stomach flexing, the slick, wet sounds of his hand moving over himself filling the space between you.

You felt yourself growing hotter, the sight of him this close making it impossible to ignore just how affected he was. His breathing was labored, each pant turning into a needy groan. His hips moved steadily, his body following the rhythm of his hand, and then his eyes met yours again. "Touch me," he groaned, the desperation clear in his voice.

You bit your bottom lip, your hands shaking as you slowly reached out. Your fingers brushed against his thigh, and the moment you made contact, Satoru let out a sultry groan, his head falling back, eyes closing briefly.

Encouraged, you let your hands trail up and down his thighs, feeling the strength in the muscles beneath your fingers. His skin was warm, almost hot to the touch, and you couldn't help but be in awe of the power you felt in him.

Satoru let out another groan, his hips stuttering for a moment as if reminding you of what he wanted. Your eyes flicked up, and you saw his head lolled to the side, his right arm tense and trembling as it held him up while his left hand continued to work over himself. He looked undone, his usually confident demeanor replaced with something raw and vulnerable.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flicking down to where your hand rested on his thigh. Slowly, you moved your hand up, caressing his skin until you hesitantly cupped the base of his length. It was hot—almost burning—and you could feel it twitch against your palm, the sensation making your heart pound even harder.

Satoru let out a deep groan, his eyes fluttering open to look at you. "Squeeze," he muttered, his voice rough, and you did as he asked, your fingers wrapping around him. He let out a shaky breath, his hips pushing up into your hand, and he cleared his throat, panting as he looked up at you. "Stroke it... like this," he instructed, guiding your movements. "Every man likes it a bit different, but... just follow my lead."

You nodded, your hand moving awkwardly at first as you tried to mimic his earlier motions. Satoru's gaze never left you, his breaths growing heavier as you found a rhythm.

The heat of him under your touch was almost overwhelming, and you could feel the slickness of his pre-cum as it dribbled down, coating your hand. He let out a low, broken moan, his hips snapping up more frantically, the wet sounds growing louder as you continued.

His entire body seemed to tense, his muscles straining as he came closer to the edge. His abs clenched, his stomach flexing involuntarily with each thrust of his hips. The sounds he made grew louder, more desperate, until finally, with a deep, guttural moan, he came.

His back arched off the bed, his body trembling as his release spilled over, dribbling down his length and hitting your hand. His eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth falling open as he rode out his orgasm, every muscle in his body going taut before slowly relaxing.

The cum dripped down, pooling on his stomach, and you couldn't help but watch, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him coming apart beneath your touch.

Satoru cracked open an eye, his lips tugging up into a smirk. "Good job," he murmured, his voice still a bit breathless. "You just learned how to give a handjob."

You felt your face flush, a mix of embarrassment and defensiveness bubbling up inside you. "I-I know how one is done," you muttered, trying to hide the awkwardness you felt. "I... I even know what a blowjob is... I've done it before." The words slipped out before you could stop them, and your mind flashed back to your senior prom, shivering in disgust at the memory of your date fumbling and the uncomfortable experience.

It had been horrible—nothing like this.

Satoru's amused hum pulled you back from the terrible memory. He shifted slightly, leaning back comfortably on your bed, his smirk widening as he looked at you. "Is that so?" he asked, clearly intrigued.

Before you could respond, he continued, his tone shifting into something a bit more curious. "Tell me then... Have you ever been eaten out before?"

Your eyes widened, and you let out a startled noise, almost choking on your own breath. "W-What?!" you spluttered, your face heating up even more. "That has nothing to do with learning how to please a man!"

Satoru sat up, his eyes still locked on you. "Of course it does," he said matter-of-factly, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "Some men get nothing but pleasure from taking care of their partner... Making sure you're enjoying yourself can be the biggest turn-on."

You opened your mouth to disagree, but the words caught in your throat when Satoru reached for your wrist, his fingers wrapping around it gently. He pulled you closer, his touch firm but not forceful, until you were standing directly in front of him. He stared up at you through his lashes, his white hair falling messily across his forehead, and you couldn't help but feel your breath hitch.

"C'mon," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "Ride my face."

You blinked, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to come up with a response. "I-I don't think... I mean, what if I'm too heavy—" you started to say, only for Satoru to cut you off with a scoff.

"Sweetheart, I'm not human," he said, his voice filled with amusement. "You can't hurt me." As if to prove his point, his tail curled around your waist, the firm grip a reminder of his strength and otherworldly nature. "Trust me... I want this."

You looked off to the side, your anxiety bubbling in your chest. After a long moment, you finally gave in, your voice barely above a whisper. "Okay..."

Satoru wasted no time. His hands moved to your shorts, pulling them down swiftly and tossing them somewhere behind him. You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing as he guided you over his body, his hands pulling you closer as he lay back down, urging you to crawl over him.

Your knees pressed into the bed on either side of his chest, and you moved awkwardly, your heart pounding as you tried to position yourself above him.

His hands found their place at your waist, the warmth of his touch grounding you as you hovered over his head.

Every inch of your skin felt like it was on fire, and the insecurity you felt only made it worse. You were unsure of what to expect—sure, you'd read smut, you'd watched porn, but it was entirely different when you were actually doing it.

This was real, and you could feel every nerve in your body buzzing with uncertainty.

You avoided looking down, not wanting to meet those electric blue eyes that were staring up at you from between your thighs. You could feel his gaze on you, his intensity almost overwhelming, and it made you feel vulnerable in a way you'd never felt before.

"Are you ready?" Satoru asked, his voice softer now, a hint of something almost reassuring beneath the teasing tone.

You nodded, though your voice betrayed you. "I... I guess," you muttered, your voice shaky and uncertain.

Before you could prepare yourself, Satoru yanked you down onto his mouth, his grip firm as he pulled you against him.

You let out a startled gasp, your hands shooting out to steady yourself as you fell forward slightly, your fingers tangling in his hair. A low groan rumbled from his throat the moment he tasted you, the vibration sending a shiver through your entire body.

His tongue was hot, wet, and the feeling of it against you made your head spin. He traced up and down your slit with a deliberate slowness, each movement of his tongue making your breath hitch.

You could feel the warmth of his mouth, the way his tongue explored every part of you, his lips wrapping around your clit as he sucked gently, then tonguing the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You couldn't help the sounds that slipped from your lips, your entire body trembling as he worked you over. His hands gripped your hips, holding you firmly in place as he continued, the sensation of his tongue moving against you almost too much to handle.

You tried to lift yourself up, to ease the overwhelming pressure building inside of you, but his tail curled around your waist tightened, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

"S-Satoru." You whined out his name in a broken moan, your hips slowly beginning to grind against his mouth, finding a delicious tempo.

Satoru groaned in response, the sound vibrating against you, sending another wave of pleasure through your body. His tongue moved with a deliberate slowness, almost teasing in the way it licked over you. It felt strange—soft yet firm, the texture unfamiliar but intoxicating.

A stuttered gasp left your lips as his tongue began to press into your entrance, the hot, wet sensation making your thighs tremble.

You couldn't control your movements anymore, your hips rocking against his face, chasing the pleasure that was building inside of you. Each flick of his tongue, each graze of his lips against your sensitive skin made your breath hitch, your fingers gripping tightly onto his hair as you lost yourself in the feeling.

Satoru's grip on your hips tightened, guiding you, encouraging you to keep going, his muffled groans only spurring you on further.

Your legs trembled, your movements growing more frantic as the pressure built higher and higher, the knot in your stomach tightening until it was almost unbearable. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you rode his face, your entire body tensing.

And then, finally, it snapped. A wave of pleasure crashed over you, your body shuddering as you came, your head thrown back, eyes squeezing shut as your hips stuttered against his mouth.

You could feel Satoru groaning against you, his tongue still moving, drawing out every last bit of pleasure as your body trembled above him.

Your legs felt like they could barely hold you up as you moved off of Satoru, collapsing next to him on the bed, panting heavily. Your entire body felt boneless, the aftershocks of your release still making your muscles twitch.

You glanced over at Satoru, your cheeks flushing as you took in the sight of him—his face slick with your juices, his eyes half-lidded and satisfied.

Satoru stretched like a cat, his body arching as he let out a contented sigh, looking entirely too pleased with himself. He sat up slowly, his gaze flicking to you as he used his thumb to swipe over his bottom lip before sucking on it, his eyes never leaving yours.

He moved closer, crawling over to you with a lazy grin on his face. "So," he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Were you satisfied?"

You nodded, your cheeks still flushed. "Y-Yeah..." you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru's hand reached up, his fingers brushing against your neck before cupping your face gently. He hummed, his eyes studying your expression. "You know," he said, his tone almost thoughtful, "technically, I've completed our deal." He smirked, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "You didn't specify what kind of sex... only that you wanted experience, confidence. And I'd say teaching you this definitely counts."

His eyes darkened slightly, the teasing glint in them replaced with something more intense. His thumb traced along your lip, his gaze locked onto yours. "But I have to say," he murmured, his voice dropping lower, "I really enjoyed this..."

He leaned in closer, his lips just barely brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Don't worry, sweetheart... I'll be back. After all, you're still a virgin."

With that, he pulled away, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. His body seemed to dissolve into black smoke, the dark tendrils swirling around him before disappearing completely, leaving you alone in the dimly lit room, your heart still pounding in your chest.

You flopped back onto your bed, releasing a satisfied sigh. "Well, that escalated quickly..."

Your phone pinged. Reaching for it, you turned it on, eyes widening at the notification.

Geto Suguru now follows you.

"Well, shit..."

A/N: ahhhh, not me getting into the halloween spirit 💀 hope you guys enjoy this just as much as i enjoyed writing it...

[gregmarriage]

just ‘danced’ around my animal crossing living room to kk birthday, bc i am the coolest motherfucker alive

happy gwen left the womb day!!!

[daenysx]

I fear I needed part two of modern!James headcanons like yesterday so if you ever feel like gracing us with more delusions about him being the perfect man, feel free to do so

here's part 2! thanks for reading, angel <33 (part 1)

okay, so james has this rebellious side and he's kinda reckless at times, right?

(especially when he's with remus and sirius)

you never know what's gonna happen with these three

but-

i also think james can be really predictable too

he has routines he likes to follow

he enjoys making lists of things in his head and do them in an order- after some time you got them all figured out

like- he'll always eat the same comfort meal every friday night or watch the same episode of his favorite sitcom when he feels too tired to focus on a new show

after an exhausting day, he'll just collapse on bed and beg for you to play with his hair

he likes making shopping lists

and i know- this is really basic but just imagine james potter going through the fridge to keep track on everything you're running low

he is responsible when it comes to chores. it's hot because he mostly completes them without wearing his shirt

his goal is obviously distracting you but he claims 'it's because it gets too hot'

now- back to being smutty here

james loves to be kissed

he actually kinda lives to be kissed

every inch of his skin begs for it

his favorite is when he lays down on bed and you get on top of him to love him right

neck kisses are super important

and-

kisses on his happy trail

i mean for real- he'd be lifting his hips for more, and you'd of course tease him

but he's so ready to surrender, he's like 'please angel, i'll do anything'

he loses his mind every time he feels your mouth on his cock

literally.

never ashamed on finishing too early (i mean, what's too early?)

he says you're so hard to resist and he's just obsessed with your mouth

charming

he loves sleepy sex

loves sleepy everything, really

he thinks you look so cute for him when you're almost awake and blinking your eyes at him

james potter is the type of man who'd get his thigh between your legs to give you something to hold onto whenever you feel restless in bed

he thinks you look good wearing his glasses but you can't believe him because how does he see anything without them?

his favorite color is red

he loves kissing you after you applied your lipstick

even if that means a potential argument

speaking of arguments

i think james believes arguments are too exhausting and he avoids them mostly

he tries to fix things before the argument stage, he feels uncomfortable when he's angry

he's too sunshine for all this

and he grew up in a peaceful home environment so he's not used to do things by arguing

let's change the subject

his handwriting is a mess most of the time

because he tries to be quick and scribbles carelessly

he likes drawing when no one's looking

james has too many friends

everyone likes him because how can they not? but mostly it's because he's really kind and he likes meeting with new people

he has too many friends but only two of them matter the most (wink wink)

and you (obv)

finally

he'd love love love the skincare sessions you give him

i have a fic about it here

but i really do think he likes being taken care of

okay i'm done?

you can send me an ask if you want more headcanons for james! not just for this context but anything you wanna see, i can try

[pastryfication]

tickling kisses | logan sargeant

pairing: logan sargeant x fem!reader

summary: logan decides to try something new and you need a bit convincing before you truly can say you like it.

warnings: me being a simp for logan’s stubble (i’m sorry) (i’m not really)

you’re sitting on the couch, a cozy blanket draped across your legs and a random sitcom playing on the television in front of you, when your boyfriend walks in.

the smell of soap hits your nose at the same time as you spot his wet hair, giving away the fact that he’s fresh out the shower.

only sporting a worn out prema t-shirt and a pair of plaited pyjama pants, he looks the definition of cozy. you just want to snuggle into his warm body for the rest of the night, enjoying the rare moment of time you have together when he’s home.

logan smiles in adoration when he makes eye contact with you, fastening his pace just slightly to reach you quicker, and you move over on the couch, lifting the blanket for him when he reaches you.

“hi, baby.” he greets you with a kiss as he settles down next to you, expecting you to greet him back, but as soon as his lips brushes yours, you pull back. feeling the roughness of his growing stubble against your skin makes you frown up at him.

“you haven’t shaved?” you ask in a small whine.

“no,” he replies, lifting a hand to feel at his chin. “i though i’d try something new. you don’t like it?”

“it tickles when we kiss!” you protest, swatting at his arm when he only grins playfully at your statement.

“oh, come on now.” he teases, eyes twinkling in amusement. “you don’t enjoy this?”

as he asks the question, he leans down to pepper you in soft kisses; starting on your face, trailing down your jawline, slowly moving down to your neck before lingering on your shoulder.

when he’s finished with his small display of affection, he looks up at you innocently. “you really don’t like it?” he tries his best to hide his smug smile, but you see right through him.

reaching down to caress his face softly, you can’t deny that the stubble suits him extremely well. and it’s an undeniably appealing feeling to have it stroke against your skin. the roughness adds an extra layer, a sensation of closeness you haven’t felt before, and a gentle scratch that almost makes you shiver.

“i guys i could get used to it.” you drag out the words, continuing to move your thumb back and forth on his face.

logan chuckles at your admission, a satisfied grin taking over his face. “yeah? that’s good, baby.”

he gives you one last kiss on your cheek before leaning down to press a kiss on the top of head. barely containing his content smile, logan reaches down and pulls you even closer to him. you’re practically seated on his lap as he starts running his fingers through your hair with one hand while changing channels on the tv with the other.

when he’s finally satisfied with the movie, he places the leftover hand around you, enveloping you in a long awaited hug.

and for a while, sitting in the peace and calmness that comes with each others company, everything is completely perfect (even with the shock of logan changing his facial hair).

[marril96]

Casually Cruel

Chapter 1: Cruel for the Sake of Cruelty

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: set in WandaVision 1.09. After Agatha's defeat, you beg Wanda not to brainwash her.

You'd told her that this was a horrible idea, but Agatha, ever stubborn, refused to listen, and now you were going to lose her, and you were too frightened to even cry about it.

"It'll be fine," she'd assured you, and, like a fool, you'd believed her.

Or rather indulged her for the bad feeling you'd had about this had never waned, no matter how hard you tried to suppress it, or pretended to do so.

The Avenger, Wanda Maximoff, had created a hex of some sort that was insanely powerful. More powerful than anything you'd ever witnessed, and you've been dating Agatha Harkness for two centuries. More powerful than her.

It had, of course, gotten Agatha's attention.

She wanted this power.

And what she wanted, she got. She took.

She was going to do this with or without you, so you decided to come along, just in case. The entire plan reeked of danger, of tragedy; you weren't going to leave her alone if something were to go wrong. You were nowhere near her power level — no one was, or so you'd thought until now — but two witches were better than one.

Taking over some poor guy's house and mind-controlling him wasn't your idea of fun, even if he did have a hilarious name, but what was even less fun was the role Agatha had chosen for you as the two of you had blended into Wanda's weird sitcom universe.

The bratty, mouthy daughter.

"Absolutely not," was the first thing that had come out of your mouth, but she was adamant that that was how things had to be. Since she was fulfilling the nosy neighbor archetype, there wasn't much else to work with. Your choices were to either be her fake daughter or to not leave the house until this whole charade was over.

So, fake daughter, you were.

It took some time for you to pick up on the era-appropriate slang (so many years had passed since; you barely even remembered what you ate for dinner last night, let alone terminology from decades ago), but Agatha was a good teacher. She made sure your act was almost as perfect as hers.

You hated every moment of it, but getting to insult her while you were in character made up for it. You'd found Agnes telling you, in retort to your rudeness, that you're not too old to bend across her knee particularly amusing. That was the highlight of every day here, actually.

Though, usually, it was Agatha bent across your knee instead of the other way around. A barking dog who liked to get bit.

She ended up getting bit for real.

You'd tried to change her mind, tried to convince her it wasn't worth it, hell, had even offered sex in exchange for getting the hell out of here, but she was dead set on getting whatever power it was that Wanda Maximoff had.

Chaos magic, it had turned out.

Wanda Maximoff was the Scarlet Witch.

Agatha was so fucked.

You'd stayed out of the fight. Agatha had assured you she could handle it. All you had ro do was watch and admire her handiwork.

Instead, you almost ended up weeping.

Almost for you didn't dare let any tears fall lest you crumble to pieces right then and there.

Agatha was close to victory, but Wanda had outsmarted her. She had gotten the upper hand and had turned the tables, sucking Agatha dry of all the power she'd amassed over the centuries.

"Good girl," Agatha said as Wanda lowered her to the ground, near where you were standing.

On her knees, she looked pitiful, like a wounded puppy. All you wanted to do was scoop her up and hold her and never let her go. Never let anyone lay a hand on her again.

Yes, she had started the fight, and yes, she hadn't listened to you, but you couldn't be mad at her. Not for long. Not when she was so vulnerable, barely a step above a normal human.

It wasn't right.

It wasn't fair.

You supposed something like this was bound to happen eventually. She was bound to come across one who would wipe the floor with her and make her their bitch. You just didn't think it would happen now.

"So, what now?" Agatha asked, feigning nonchalance. Trying — and failing, desperately so — to put on as brave a face as she could, when you knew for a fact she was a mess on the inside. A mess you'd already started making plans to take care of. "You just gonna lock me up somewhere?"

Over your dead body.

"No. Not somewhere," Wanda said, disgustingly pleased with herself. "Here."

Agatha was confused, as were you. "Here?"

"Mmhmm. I'll give you the role you chose. The nosy neighbor."

Blood ran cold in your veins. She couldn't possibly be saying what you thought she was saying. She wouldn't do that. She couldn't.

She was a hero.

Heroes didn't kick people while they were down.

Heroes weren't cruel.

Agatha was mortified. "No. Please."

Your heart broke at how small, how utterly helpless she was. The Agatha you knew didn't beg. She didn't plead. She wasn't terrified to the bone.

She wasn't powerless.

"I'm sorry," Wanda said, even though she was clearly not.

Agatha called her out on it. "No, you're not. You're cruel."

Wanda ignored her, smirk proudly plastered over her mouth.

And people thought Agatha was a monster.

Unable to watch any further, swallowing the fear, the utmost despair that coiled inside you, you stepped in front of Agatha before Wanda could reach her. Your arms spread wide, covering her. Shielding her. Protecting her, if only momentarily.

"Wanda, please," you said, voice cracking.

Wanda didn't care. "Get out of my way."

A brave tear escaped down your cheek. "Please, don't do this. She's all I have."

"She should have thought of that before she tried to kill me," Wanda said coldly.

"Yes, she should have. She shouldn't have attacked you." She should have fucking listened to you. "That doesn't make doing this to her right."

As an alleged hero, she should know that.

There was defeating an enemy, and then there was torture.

Heroes didn't do that.

Not even you and Agatha did that.

Wanda scowled. "Doesn't it?"

So much for the esteemed hero.

Your eyes pricked with newly blooming tears. Your heart quickened. "Please. I promise you, she won't bother you again. I'll make sure of it."

"What makes you think your promises mean anything to me?"

"They may mean nothing to you, but…" They meant everything to you. To Agatha. "I love her too much to lose her. She knows that. And she knows what's at stake now."

Wanda pondered on it for a moment. "Am I supposed to forget what she did to me?"

You did worse, you thought, but didn't dare say it out loud. She'd enslaved an entire town. Made them live through her nightmares. Stole their children away from them.

Nothing Agatha did to her could compare to the trauma she's inflicted on these people.

"No. You have every right to hate her," you said. "Please, just… don't take her from me. Please."

"You could keep her company here, if you want," Wanda said, threat clear in her voice.

She could brainwash you and Agatha together.

A chill shot through you, straight to the bone. "I've done nothing to you."

"You came here with her." Okay. Fair point. "If you want to stay with her," Wanda continued, "I can arrange that. It's your choice."

"Is that something you want your kids to see? Their mother torturing people?" you asked. Two could play this game.

"Leave my children out of this!" Wanda snapped.

You'd hit a nerve.

"You're involving them by doing this in front of them."

She looked back at her boys, huddled at their father's side.

"You tortured this entire town, and now you want to torture Agatha," you kept on, having gathered your last remnants of courage. Of hope that the woman you loved could still be saved. "With the town, at least it wasn't on purpose." Not from the beginning, anyway. "But doing it to her? That is on purpose."

Wanda turned back to you. Red rimmed her eyes, the same shade as her outfit. Tears threatening to break free.

"No child should see their mother do that," you told her.

Silence befell you as Wanda stared, first at you and then at the ground, lost in thought. Going through your words one by one. Trying to think back a suitable retort, but none were coming to mind.

She knew you were right.

God, you hoped she knew you were right.

You'd promised Agatha, a long time ago, that you would always have her back, and you intended to make good on it. You wouldn't let the Scarlet Witch lay another finger on her — not without a fight.

If she killed you, so be it.

At the very least, Agatha would know you were telling the truth. She would know that you weren't one of the people who would stab her in the back while promising her loyalty.

She would know that she was right to trust you.

Finally, without meeting your gaze, after what seemed like forever, Wanda said, "Get her out of my face."

You gasped. "You mean…?"

"Get her out of here." She looked at Agatha cowering behind you, face contorted with venom. "I better not see you again. You know what's coming if I do."

A relief like you'd never felt before lifted off your shoulders. You were weightless, lighter than a feather.

Wanda was letting Agatha go. The woman you loved was going to be okay.

You'd managed to keep your word.

You didn't let her down.

Not wanting to waste another second, worried that Wanda was going to change her mind, you reached out for Agatha's hand and pulled her to her feet. Your arms were around her before she managed to steady herself, your magic sparkling, blooming from your fingertips. With a swift thought of, Up, you leapt up into the air.

Agatha held on to you like she never had before. For safety. For dear life. Her heart running marathons against your chest.

"It's okay," you told her as you flew higher, higher, higher, as far away as you could from this awful place. From the woman who'd almost taken her from you. "I got you. You're safe."

A circle opened up in the hex, a farewell gift from Wanda for the two of you. The final get-the-fuck-out.

You happily obliged. No hesitation, no looking back.

You never wanted to see her or Westview again.

"Y/N…" Agatha said weakly. Meekly. So unlike her.

A wordless thank you.

It broke your heart.

"I love you. I hope you know that." You nuzzled the crook of her neck. Kissed her hair. "I'd do anything for you."

Even confront an unhinged witch with power alike that of a deity.

Agatha's grip on you tightened. I know, the gesture said. Me, too.

Though, going forwards, it was going to be up to you to make sure the two of you were safe. Until she got at least a tiny fraction of her power back.

You hoped you were up to the challenge.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos

*****

Next chapter.

[steveharringtonat3am]

Rhythmic romance | drummer!steve harrington x reader | 18+

summary: Robin's drummer friend is hot. What else were you supposed to do? [1.8k]

warnings: SMUT 18+, mentions of alcohol, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, mentions of birth control

✩┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈✩

You did not want to be at a bar right now. You couldn’t wait to get home, get into bed, and crochet with a sitcom playing in the background until you eventually fell asleep. But it was your best friends’ birthday, so you sucked it up. She insisted on coming to see this band in the sketchiest dive bar you had ever stepped foot in. It was way too crowded and you regret not throwing her a party in your apartment. But from what you can hear, the music is pretty good.

“Here!” Robin hands you a glass of club soda. Being the designated driver was normally fine with you but the pounding music makes you envy her cosmopolitan. She begins pulling you closer to the band and you try to pretend your eardrums aren’t about to burst.

“It’s good!” You nod at her when she looks for your approval. She had mentioned something about knowing the lead singer and the drummer. How? You couldn’t remember the details as they hit a high note louder than you thought possible.

‘Corroded Coffin’ is etched on the front of the drums. It’s actually a pretty cool name. You’re about to ask Robin about it when your eyes drift further and your jaw nearly drops.

Holy shit, the drummer is hot.

So hot, you almost can’t think for a second. He’s sweating from the lights, tanned skin and muscle showing through his white t-shirt that’s almost translucent from the sweat. His gorgeous brown hair is all over the place as he tosses his head back to get some out of his eyes. He’s focused on the beat as his tongue pokes out of his mouth ever so slightly.

You could kill Robin for hiding him from you.

The set feels like it takes forever. Halfway through, Robin tugs you over to a booth where the volume has slightly decreased.

“You said you know the drummer?” You try not to be obvious but she sees right through you.

“You like him, don’t you? He’s a loser you know that right? Like a major loser.” She exaggerates in an obvious way that makes you smile.

“You should have seen this coming. He’s exactly my type.” You grin as you sip your drink and she sighs.

“I know but I hoped you would have higher standards.”

“You do realize he’s your friend right?” That is already a green flag in your mind. No way Robin would be friends with a douche so at the very least he’s nice.

“…Alright fine. Honestly, you two would probably get along well.” She shrugs. Before you can ask much about him though, your eyes lock with his.

“Hey, Rob!” The one with long dark hair greets her as you and the drummer simply look at each other. He’s even prettier up close and you really wanna reach over and fix his hair.

“Hi, Eddie! Hi doofus.” She pushes the drummer on the shoulder and he turns to smile at her.

“Hi, Robin. Did you like the set?” He asks as you pretend your drink is incredibly fascinating.

“Yeah! We both liked it.” She introduces you quickly, putting the name Steve to the face. He reaches out to shake your hand. The contact sends a shiver down your spine but luckily he doesn’t notice. They each slide into the booth, Steve next to you and Eddie next to Robin. You try not to focus too much on his thigh pressed against yours but the warmth of him mixed with his intoxicating cologne is almost too much for you.

The more you get to know Eddie and Steve, the more you understand why Robin was friends with them. Eddie was so funny and nice. Steve was perfect. Kind, has a good sense of humour and is just incredible.

It also helped that he had his hand on your bare thigh.

He had been laughing at something you said, pushing his hair back before letting his hand fall onto your skin, and rubbing it with his thumb. He doesn’t look at you as he does but you swear his smile grows when you tense a bit next to him.

When you feel like you can’t breathe anymore, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. Steve stands to let you out, eyes running over you as you walk past him.

The hallways leading to the bathrooms feel like a different, quieter world so you take a moment to yourself. You liked Steve. But you didn’t even know how he felt about you. And you didn’t want this to be some one-night hookup.

“Hey.” As if you summoned him, Steve is walking up to you. He stops in front of where you’re leaning against the wall, caging you in.

“Hi.” You smile at him and he leans in close. Maybe he’s doing it to hear you better but you like to think it’s just to get closer to you.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just needed a break from all that, you know?” You fiddle with the hem of your skirt as he nods.

“Course. Though, I gotta say I liked having such a pretty face watching me play. Should come to more shows.” You can’t tell who’s moving, but he’s closer than he was before.

“You gonna give me a reason to?” The teasing smile sends him over the edge as he presses his lips against yours. You melt into it as he steps closer to press you against the wall. His hand cradles the back of your head as the kiss gets sloppier.

“C’mere.” He breaks the kiss for a second to tug you into the unisex bathroom, locking the door and immediately pressing you against it. You grin into the kiss as your fingers slip through his curly brown locks.

“Gonna let me fuck you in this bar? That desperate for me?” He teases in a way that soaks your panties more than you thought possible.

“L-like you don’t want it just as bad.” You pant, already chasing his lips again. He tugs you over to the sink and pushes you up so you’re sitting on the counter. He’s impossibly close now as your skirt rides up. You can feel how hard he is against your thigh but you’re too focused on his wandering hands, going from your hips to your sides to your ass.

The moan that slips out when he squeezes the flesh would be embarrassing if you weren’t so desperate for him. His hands slip to your thighs, rubbing up and down. His fingers brush the edges of the lace and he pulls away from your sloppy makeout to look into your eyes.

“Can I take these off?” His eyes are even prettier clouded with lust. You nod quickly in response and he wastes no time, sliding the fabric down your thighs and pushing it into his pocket. Your comment on that is stifled as he kisses your inner thigh. You spread your legs wider for him and try to ignore the feel of his smirk as his tongue runs up and down your slit.

“Come on Steve!” You whine as you tug his hair. He moans at the feeling and the vibration makes you squirm. Luckily, his grip is iron, so you don’t fall. He continues to lap at you and your orgasm starts to build. Unluckily, this is where he chooses to pull away and stand.

“N-no come on I was close!” You pout at his Cheshire grin.

“I know sweetheart but I need to fuck you. That alright with you?” One look at the bulge in his pants tells you all you need to know.

“Absolutely.” You tug at his belt, undoing it as quickly as possible. He helps with his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers. His hard cock springs free to slap his stomach and your eyes nearly fall out of your head.

Gods, he’s huge.

“Condom or no?”

“I’m on the pill and…you seem clean.” You can’t think straight at this point. Your pussy aches for him to fuck you.

“I am. M’not gonna say no to fucking you raw. God you look hot.” You could orgasm right there but then he’s stepping closer and pressing his fat tip into you.

“Holy-” You grab onto his arm, pressing your face into his shoulder as he sinks in deeper. He hums in acknowledgement, easing in nice and slow.

By the time he’s balls deep, you might be seeing stars but you’d happily die in this moment.

“You alright, sweetheart?” He mumbles into your ear with a tenderness you don’t expect from a bar fuck. But you suppose Steve wasn’t just any bar fuck.

“Y-yeah. You can move.” You’re pressed together so tight you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

As he starts to fuck you, you press a fist into your mouth to avoid moaning too loud. He quickly ups his pace, pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow. The sound of skin slapping is sinful but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“Holy shit Steve just like that!” You moan into him, holding onto his arms for dear life. He’s making such pretty noises.

“Feel so-fuck-so good sweetheart.” He presses a sloppy kiss to your lips, moaning when you clench around him. Both your mouths and chins are covered in saliva but as his thumb runs over your clit, all thoughts go out the window.

“G-god I’m so close Steve.” You’re so close to the edge that it hurts.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” He slams into you one more time and you’re seeing stars as pleasure overtakes you. It’s enough to make him cum too, pulling out to paint your thighs with his cum.

You both pant in silence for a second, your head resting against his chest. When you’ve both caught your breath you manage to look at him. He looks as if he’s just come off stage, only less sweaty. You can’t imagine you look any better but the look in his eyes almost convinces you otherwise.

“I-I’ll go out first.” He offers hands quickly fixing your hair into place before stepping away to help you down. Your legs are wobbly but you manage.

“Steve wh-” He cuts you off with a sweet kiss, with none of the lust from before but just as much passion.

“I’ll take you on a proper date soon okay? I promise.” He kisses your cheek once more before slipping out the door. You rest against the cold porcelain as you mull over what just happened.

You’re gonna have to get Robin one hell of a birthday gift.

[five-miles-over]

Imagine waking up in an alternate reality where you and Loki are a newlywed couple living in the suburbs

This isn't my bed.

You opened your eyes, finding yourself nestled in pine green sheets of sateen. How did I even get here? As soon as you sat up, your eyes darted about the room.

Large and luxurious seemed to describe the queen-sized bed you were sitting in. The bedroom had off-white painted walls, a large ebony dresser with a mirror that perfectly captured your reflection, and a three-paned window offering a view of an idyllic suburban neighborhood.

From there, you could see a clean yard with rose bushes and yellow dandelions, all behind a white picket fence. There was a walkway, leading up to what could only be assumed to be the front door. And there was even a little mailbox with a green flag.

You blinked in disbelief at the sight, and decided to turn your attention to the rest of the bedroom. The next thing that caught your eye was the nightstand, which was ebony to match the dresser. Maybe it was part of a set.

On the nightstand was a set of silk ribbons, a wristwatch, and a framed photo. You picked up the frame and saw yourself in a wedding gown, smiling while being hugged by a tall man with dark curls that framed his long, pale face. His eyes crinkled at the corner as he grinned, looking at the camera as if this were the happiest moment of his life. The two of you seemed so perfect together, maybe even in love. The photo was in black and white, so you couldn't say much about the color of his eyes. However, it was obvious that he was wearing a black suit with a lily boutonniere. Classy.

"Morning, darling!"

You looked up to see the same man from the photo, except his curls were dripping and he wore a fluffy, black bathrobe. It didn't take long for you to notice his striking cheekbones, and the besotted look in his eyes that almost resembled the way he looked in the photo. But in all fairness, the camera did not do his beauty complete justice.

He came closer to you and gently planted his lips on yours. He tasted of mint, and his skin smelled like rain. You slowly reciprocated the kiss, putting your fingers on his cheek.

"Were you taking a trip down memory lane?" The man fondly asked, glancing at the photo. "I still can't believe that was only two months ago. Can you?"

You shook your head.

He hugged you from behind and kissed the top of your hair. "I'll finish getting dressed, and then meet you in the kitchen for breakfast."

You climbed out of bed, oblivious to a ring on your left hand. "Where...where are you going,...darling?" You swallowed.

"To work," he chuckles. "Can't be starting a Nexus Event at my own workplace." The man examines himself in the dresser's mirror. Then, he opens a drawer, retrieves a small pot of facial moisturizer, and dabs it on his forehead, rubbing it in circles. "You know the TVA, darling."

"The...Time Variance Authority," you mumbled, watching his reflection. "I should...I should go."

You hurried out of the bedroom, down a long hallway filled with pieces of generic artwork, and into a kitchen.

"What do you think of having pancakes this morning?" The man could be heard asking while you entered what seemed to be the kitchen kitchen.

As if the place were taken straight from the 1950s, everything - the oven, the fridge, the cabinets, and even the wallpaper - was completely pastel green, a shade of seafoam. Why is there so much green in this house?, you asked yourself.

Maybe it was because you watched too many sitcoms, or had seen too many vintage photos, but the first thing you did was put on an apron that had been laying around. And then, you opened the fridge, which was fully stocked with everything: a full carton of milk, a dozen eggs, various vegetables, some cuts of meat wrapped in butcher paper, and cheddar cheese.

Pancakes, you thought to yourself, taking the eggs and milk out of the fridge. Thankfully, there was an unopened box of pancake mix on one of the kitchen countertops. Yes it was strange, cooking breakfast for a man whose name you didn't even know, but he'd been so sweet to you. And maybe if you were on his good side, you could actually get some answers about who he was. "Hm..." A few moments later, while you were mixing the pancake batter in a large bowl, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist. "I just can't get enough of you." The man's dulcet voice tickled your ears.

You laughed politely as he kissed your cheek. When you looked over your shoulder, you noticed he was wearing a white button-down shirt , a dark tie, and brown dress pants that showed off his perfectly-tight ass. For a moment, it made you blush. Apparently, the man noticed...and promptly winked in your direction.

As you heated the pan and greased it with butter, you could hear the man pouring himself a cup of coffee or tea, and then opening a newspaper.

"I'm cancelling drinks with Mobius tonight," the man casually said. "Coming straight home after work."

Not knowing at all who he could be referring to, you scooped the batter into the pan and watched it sizzle. "Why?"

He flipped a page of the newspaper. "Because he's making me watch another set of boring trading videos today. It's tedious, honestly." The man smiles when the scent of warm pancakes reaches his nose. "What I wouldn't give to be back on our honeymoon."

"Me too," you lied, placing the golden-brown pancakes onto a plate.

The man set the news paper aside and walked up to you, stroking your hair. "Maybe, tonight...we could even finish what we started on our honeymoon."

"Oh?" You found yourself smiling while you flipped two pancakes.

He whispered, "We could continue trying for a baby."

Don't burn the pancakes. Do NOT burn the pancakes. Blinking, you placed the two new ones with the rest of them on a plate, trying not to let your hand tense around the spatula. "A baby..." You put the plate of pancakes on the dining table, gently pushing aside the newspaper.

Next to the paper was a laminated id badge. It read, 'Time Variance Authority, Name: Loki Laufeyson, Role: Variant, ID: L1130'. You swallowed. struggling to look away from the badge as you tried to understand who the man really was. "Loki?"

"Those smell amazing, darling." Loki sat down and drizzled syrup on the pancakes. Then, procuring a bottle out of thin air, he sprayed a large peak of whipped cream on top.

You handed him a fork and knife, watching him begin to eat.

"Mm!" He moaned, closing his eyes for a moment. "This is delicious! Mm, I knew I married the right woman."

"Married?"

Loki chuckled before feeding you a forkful of pancake, syrup and whipped cream. "I love you more every day, Mrs. Laufeyson."

You gave him a gentle smile while chewing. "I...I love you more, Mr. Laufeyson." You made two pancakes for yourself, turned off the stove, and ate them while sitting across the table from Loki. How could it be possible that you were married to the God of Mischief, the younger prince of Asgard, the frost giant?

While eating, you glanced at your left hand, surprised by the sight of an elegant emerald ring with a gold band placed on your middle finger. But before you could ask Loki about any of this, the God of mischief put his now-empty plate in the sink. "I'd best be off now." He put his arm around your shoulder and pecked you on the lips. "Ah, parting is such sweet sorrow."

Loki walked towards the door with a brown jacket and a briefcase. "Wait! Loki!" You followed him out of the kitchen. "You forgot your badge."

Loki smiled, tapping the left side of his chest. "Pin it here, darling." He watched you with nothing but pure, unadulterated affection. "What would I do without you?" When you'd gotten the badge on his shirt, Loki gave you one last kiss. "No matter what happens," he softly said your name, "never doubt that I love you. I'll see you tonight, darling."

Taglist: @lokischambermaid @lokiismineforever @lokidbadguy @lokisgoodgirl @lokisprettygirl22 @smolvenger @holdmytesseract @wheredafandomat @wolfsmom1 @lovelysizzlingbluebird @evelyn-kingsley @muddyorbsblr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @icytrickster17 @thatdummy-girl @fantasyfan4life @huntress-artemiss @itsdoni @gruftiela @ellooo0ooo @ireallyneedtherapy @jennyggggrrr @anukulee @turniptitaness

[i-have-weird-selfships]

He can't sleep 💔

This was him behind the door

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 10/12)

helloooo, here are these two messy cuties once again, i hope you enjoyyy

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: time is almost up but who could deny a good karaoke session?

contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use, sexual themes, slight angst, those awkward/cringey scenes where they're singing (i apologize in advance), and lots of mixed feelings <3

word count: 3.9k

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| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

song inspo for this chappy hehe:

Steve and Robin love karaoke. 

Nancy had warned you that the friendly pair practically fiend for a good karaoke sesh, but you hadn’t expected them to be as enthusiastic as they turned out to be.

For some odd reason, the city seems less busy today, so you, Eddie, and Eddie's friends can take up as much room as you’d like on the sidewalk. 

In front of you, Robin and Steve are seriously debating what the first song on the queue will be. Walking just a few paces behind them is Nancy, who’s quietly taking in the city's bright lights; and next to you, palm burning a hole through your hand with his addicting touch, is Eddie.

It’s stupid, you think. The way Eddie has seen you stripped down and bare, whining and quivering for him at what could arguably be your most vulnerable state, yet you still find your heart racing 100 miles a minute with this soft gesture of holding hands.

Sure, you’ve held his hand before, but not for this long. Not in public when it’s not the heat of the moment and you’re simply walking around. It’s weird and new, and it makes your stomach twist in a good way, but fuck— you chicken out when Robin and Steve turn to face you, Nancy, and Eddie.

“Steve wants to start karaoke with Queen— like any karaoke amateur would.” Robin huffs as Steve rolls his eyes. You slip your hand from Eddie’s hold before either of them can clock the gesture, and you avoid looking at Eddie when he clears his throat.

“Because it’s the perfect opener!” Steve stresses. “Everybody always does, Queen, Steve! Plus, I’m not even sure I can physically pull through with how long their songs are.” Robin argues. 

Steve’s jaw dropped as if Robin had just said the most foul thing he’d ever heard, “Their songs are not that long. And even if they are, they’re fucking amazing, so what’s your point.” “My point is we’re not starting the night with Queen.”

They’re an interesting group of friends, you’ll admit. Interesting in the sense that you swear they could be a part of some sitcom with how funny and unpredictable their conversations and interactions are.

By the time you reach the karaoke bar, Steve and Robin have an entire list of songs mentally queued up, and they make a beeline to the DJ operating the music as you and Nancy snag a table towards the middle of the room. The bar is to one side of the room while the stage is at the front, and the DJ booth is at the back; the rest of the room is full of tables where people chatter, laugh over drinks, and sing along with whoever is currently doing their performance. Eddie had split off to get drinks the second you entered the bar, so it’s just you and Nancy as you settle at the wooden table.

“Are you going to sing?” Nancy questions from the other side of the table. You pull a face, shrugging your shoulders up to your ears, “I’m not sure, maybe once I get a few drinks in me. How about you?” Nancy softly laughs with a playful roll of her eyes, “Unfortunately, I doubt Robin will let me escape this one.”

As if summoned, Robin slides into the seat right next to Nancy. “I put you down together, but there’s a few people ahead, so start thinking of the song you’ll sing.” She gestures between you and Nancy. You shrug, accepting defeat, and before you can pitch an idea for a song to Nancy, Robin is leaning her elbows against the table and blinking at you, “So, let’s cut to the chase. What’s going on between you and Eddie?” She asks.

Nancy’s eyes widen as she instinctively jabs her elbow into Robin’s ribs, “Ow!” “Rob, you can’t just ask people that— god.” You softly laugh as Robin rubs at her sore side. “Sorry if I’m interested in keeping tabs on my friend!” Robin sarcastically argued.

Nancy rolls her eyes and sends you an apologetic look. “Look, I’m just guessing— based on the fact that you two were in the back of a fancy restaurant— that something is going on. Oh— unless this is, like, a business thing, then you can totally ignore me.” Robin rambles.

“Robin,” Nancy stresses. Your cheeks seem to ache from the amused expression on your face as Nancy turns to you, “You don’t have to answer either way since it’s none of our business.” She says, voice raising near the end as she glares at Robin. Robin rolls her eyes, and you laugh with a shake of your head as you shift in your seat. “No, it’s fine, I understand, but um,” You shrug, “It’s just a business thing.” You finally answer.

And, technically, you’re not wrong. There is a business transaction going on between you and Eddie… and the rest of the band, which is primarily the basis of your relationship, but you’re not sure how appropriate it would be to say, ‘Yeah, I mean, Eddie hated me, but now he doesn’t, so then we fucked yesterday but then his manager basically told us to squash whatever that was, so now we’re kind of in a weird spot because we don’t hate each other but we can’t like each other. Oh yeah, and here’s the kicker, Eddie’s been a total asshole this entire time, and it’s fucked with my head a bit. But apparently, he wants to change!’

It’s a colorful mess of loopholes and twists and turns that probably nobody will fully understand aside from you and Eddie, so…. business thing it is. 

Robin seems to take that as an answer, but Nancy is now intrigued by your tone, “That didn’t sound very sure.” She playfully raises a suggestive eyebrow. Robin hums, “What happened to it being none of our business?” She points out, to which Nancy just waves a dismissive hand in response. “It’s a business thing, but…” Nancy prods. Your face warms as you lift your shoulders in a shrug, “I mean, it’s… it’s complicated.” 

Nancy nods with a shrug as she shifts in her seat, “So, how did you two meet?” 

You take a deep breath as you lean to rest your elbows on the table, “Well, I’m a writer for Rolling Stone magazine—” Robin gasps, grabbing your attention, “No shit? Nancy’s a journalist too— ow!” She turns to look at Nancy with a disgruntled look as she rubs her thigh, “Would you stop bullying me?” She frowns.

Before either of them can get far into bickering, Eddie and Steve come waltzing back to the table with drinks in their hands. Eddie snags a seat beside you and passes a drink to you; you smile as you gratefully take the glass and softly thank him. Steve plops down next to Robin, sliding her and Nancy their drinks as he says, “Alright, I hope everyone has their songs picked out because I plan on battling each and every one of you.”

Although the weather outside is on the more chilly side of summer days, you find your body warm with liquor and laughter as you, Nancy, and Eddie watch a tipsy pair of Steve and Robin sing a surprisingly good rendition of Huey Lewis’ Heart and Soul. You’ve shrugged off your sweater and tossed it over the back of your chair— and you’re thankful to have thrown on a tank top underneath because, most of the time, you hardly bother to wear anything beneath sweaters.

It’s their fourth song of the night, Eddie and Nancy have both gone up at least once, but you’ve been on the observant side mostly, enjoying the ongoing conversations you’ve had with Nancy. There’s a bowl of chips and salsa in the middle of the table, and Eddie’s arm is draped across the back of your chair, heat pouring from him and seeping all around to wrap you up in an Eddie-scented bubble— it’s nicer than you’d care or like to admit.

Nancy has turned around to watch and cheer on the performance; she’s become more animated and loose after a few drinks, and you laugh as Robin practically serenades her from the stage. You lean back in your chair, softly giggling as you slightly lean into Eddie, “So,” you grab your drink and glance at the boy on your side, “What’s the dynamic here?” You ask with a jut of your chin towards his friends.

Eddie hums, leaning further into his chair, and in turn, pressing himself closer to you. His breath is warm against your ear and cheek, curly strands brushing against your skin as he speaks, “So basically,” He dramatically sighs, and you smile at his dramatics as he gestures between his friends, “Nancy and Steve are exes from high school and Robin and Steve are best friends.” You nod, gaze darting between the friends as you connect the dots. “But,” He raises a finger over his glass, “Robin and Nancy are dating now.” Your eyebrows raise at the full circle of events, but you nod as your suspicions are finally confirmed. 

Eddie leans closer, voice dropping to a lower volume, “But at this rate, it’s safe to say Nancy’s playing third wheel for Steve and Rob since they practically share one brain cell.” You tilt your head, “Okay, I see it now.”

Nancy glances over her shoulder to glare at you and Eddie from her seat, “I heard that, assholes… you’re not wrong.” She grumbles. You and Eddie laugh as she turns back to face you both now that Steve and Robin are hopping off the stage.

“Steve’s actually seeing a girl now; she’s in nursing school.” Nancy pipes up, grabs a chip, and pops it into her mouth. Eddie leans forward at that, keeping his arm on your chair as he uses the other to grab a chip for himself,  “Nursing school?”

Nancy nods as she sips her drink, “He goes down to see her like every other weekend. And they run our phone bill up like hell.” 

Robin plops down into her seat, “What are we talking about? Steve’s hot nurse babe?” She asks, humming when Nancy nods. Robin scoffs as she turns to Eddie, “Can you believe they’ve been dating for, like, four months, and we have yet to even see a picture of her? They see each other every week!”

Eddie snorts, “Then who’s he talking to on the phone?” Robin shrugs, “Who knows at this point.”

Steve returns as if on cue, sitting down with a sigh as he glances at the table, “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing, just talking about your imaginary girlfriend.” Robin teases.

Steve groans, eyes rolling before glaring at his giggling friends— your cheeks hurt from smiling. “She’s real, okay? She’s real, and her name is Cassie, and the only reason you haven’t met her yet is because she’s literally in nursing school— she has a busy schedule!”

And although you wish Eddie and you had been able to finish your discussion without the abrupt interruption, you find yourself growing fond of this shade of Eddie— sure, you’ve seen him having fun and being unapologetically himself with Gareth and Jeff and even on stage, but this side of Eddie is softer— kinder, brighter— homey. 

You realize as you watch him singing his heart out to some mainstream pop song that Steve somehow talked him into doing. You’re more surprised that Eddie knows the lyrics, but you’re too tipsy to dwell on it because Nancy’s scooting onto the chair beside you and asking what song you two should sing because, “We have to outsing them, obviously.”

And, well, you hardly have the time to stop your lips before you lean in and tell her the song you’d like to sing. Nancy snickers, giggling at the obvious undertone of the chosen song, and she eagerly agrees because “He’s gonna shit his pants.”

You go back and forth on who will take which role— who will sing Tom Petty’s key, and who will sing Stevie Nicks's key— but then you eventually land on just singing together for the entirety of the song. When the boys finish their song, Nancy drags you up to the DJ to request the song and magically persuades him to let you skip the queue of people to go next. She’s a good flirt, that’s indisputable.

You should probably thank Nancy at some point for agreeing to this song regardless of how little information she has about your situationship with Eddie, but before you even get the chance to, you and Nancy are already singing the first line of the song— Baby, you'll come knocking on my front door. Same old line you used to use before— and well, Eddie’s head has never turned his head faster, but you avoid his gaze for as long as you can.

And you’re doing good; you’re doing so good, and then you get to the second chorus and lock eyes with Eddie as you sing along to the track with Nancy— Baby, you could never look me in the eye. Yeah, you buckle with the weight of the world. Stop draggin' my, stop draggin' my, stop draggin' my heart around— and, well… you think you made your point clear.

You and Nancy have a blast singing to Nicks and Petty, and when the song ends, the bar claps and cheers as they do after every performance, and you’re all smiles as you waltz back to the table, sitting next to the fidgeting boy you’d just indirectly serenaded. Steve and Robin are telling you and Nancy how well you did and teasing each other over specific parts of the performance, and they’re all so caught up in one another that they hardly notice as Eddie leans into your space, voice low and gravely as he speaks, “That was cruel, princess.”

You look at him, eyes falling to the ghost of a smirk that dances across his lips before you reach forward to grab your drink, wrapping your lips around the thin, black straw, maintaining eye contact as you shrug, “Did you get the hint?” You tease.

Eddie huffs around a laugh, shifting in his seat, left arm back to barricading the back of your chair, and you don’t fail to notice the tent in the crotch of his jeans. He rolls his tongue over his teeth, snickering when you raise an eyebrow, “Yeah… Yeah, I got the hint.” He nods, and you think you might see a pink tint dusting across his cheeks.

You smile, liquor making you bold as you blink up at him, “Good.”

It’s a long trip to the hotel with a pair of drunk best friends.

They ramble a lot— Steve and Robin— you come to find out, and Nancy and Eddie have become experts at handling them with ease. You realize this as you watch them get their friends tucked into bed. Nancy is tipsy, but Eddie informed you that she has a weird thing with tequila where she becomes highly functioning, so she’s moving about the room with grace and precision.

When the drunk pair is finally tucked into bed, Nancy walks you and Eddie to the door of the hotel room, thanking you for taking the time to make sure they got in safe. “I would say see you at breakfast, but I doubt these two will have crawled from the grave by then.” Nancy gestures back to Robin and Steve. 

You don’t blame them; they’re basically on holiday, and you would do the same.

Your and Eddie’s rooms are on a different floor, and it’s a long ride up to the top, especially with the burning desire for one of you to say something— what, you’re not sure.

“I like your friends.”

That was you talking, you realize when Eddie turns to you with a smirk, “Yeah? They didn’t scare you off with their incessant shithead behavior?” He jokingly questions. You hum with a laugh, “I’ve dealt with worse.” You tease.

Eddie walks you to your room, his intoxicating smell and presence hovering around you as you unlock the door before stepping in. You turn around, hand resting on the edge of the door as you look at the curly-haired boy, “Good night, Eddie.”

Eddie hums, leaning against the door frame, eyes flickering to the twist of your mouth before reaching your eyes again, “Not gonna finish our conversation?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “I hardly believe you’d be doing much talking if I let you in right now.” And you don’t think you’re ready to travel down that path again. Not so soon when you have the events of tonight to digest, not to mention the gift sitting in your bag.

Eddie shrugs with a small smirk, “I can multitask.”

His gentle smile is beautiful. Alluring and unique, and his eyes are taking you with such an intensity that you think you might melt if you stay a minute longer. “I didn’t choose that song for the hell of it, you know?” You ask. “Stevie’s got a mean fucking range. Lord knows if I’ll be covering her again.” You grumble. And really, how high can the woman go with her rasp?

Eddie laughs, turning his head and glancing at the empty hallway before looking back to you, “Yeah, I know,” He softly replies.

You nod and he takes a deep breath, nodding towards your bag slung over your shoulder, “Listen to the tape.” He reminds you.

You tilt your head, clenching the strap of your bag before speaking, “Are you under the impression that this would make up for everything?” You ask.

And you don’t mean for it to sound harsh or hurt his feelings, but you have to let him know that if that’s what he’s hoping, then he’s wrong. This doesn’t fix everything. This doesn’t fix the confused feelings and the harsh words. It’s a start, but it’s not a finish as well.

And although Eddie’s expression falters, he shakes his head, “No. But I still want you to listen.”

You nod quietly, gazing at each other and wishing you could start on a different foot. You clear your throat, straighten your stance, and step back. “Good night, Eddie.” You softly say.

By the time you finish showering and getting ready for bed, the only thing running on your mind is the pending need to sleep. The maids had changed out the seats so they’re not doused with the ghost of Eddie’s cologne and shampoo— but you don’t go long with Eddie out of your mind because there’s a hard object that pokes into your arm when you settle into the bed.

You groan, twisting your arm around your frame to dig out the small object from below you, and when your fingers wrap around the plastic case, you immediately remember the task you’d had for tonight— listen to the tape.

The sleep that weighed down on your body is suddenly gone as you sit up to grab your walkman and headphones before settling back into the comfy sheets.

You try your best to ignore the swirling feeling of nerves and excitement in your gut as you put on your headphones and slip the tape in, but you find yourself nipping at the skin of your nails as the tape winds either way.

It’s silent for a moment, the sound of shuffling and the soft thud of what you think might be someone setting a glass down. There’s a clearing of a throat— it’s Eddie, you can tell— and your stomach twists in anticipation at the first ring of a piano chord. 

The beginning chords are soft and slow, gentle enough to lull you to sleep if you sink into it, and the recording is so vivid that you can hear the dull thud of each key beneath the press of his fingers.

Your heart races when Eddie’s voice seeps into the melody. It’s a ballad, something Corroded Coffin doesn’t have much of, and you wonder why because the softness of Eddie’s voice is arguably one of the most heavenly sounds to have ever touched your ears.

I'm feeling a way, off some kinda drug

Maybe it's lust, maybe it's love

I know I said I'd straighten out a week ago

I'm fiending though, 'bout to reach my peak, you know

The city's got me falling now

It’s… fuck, it’s fucking good, and you haven’t even gotten to the chorus, but god, your heart skips a beat at the following line because it’s a direct callout to you.

I'm fading away, I'm losing my head

I know you said leave, but fuck what you said

As much as you wish you could say you hate it… you don’t.

Even though the song is about you and your twisted relationship with Eddie— which definitely aids to your feelings towards the track— it’s genuinely a good song. Which, okay, is slightly annoying, but you can’t find it in yourself to care as the song carries on.

The future's never looked so bright, it's blinding me

It's hard to see, I'm swimming through dopamine

Your body looks like heaven and

I wanna give up, I just wanna leave

I'm floating away, I'm caught in the breeze

The outro of the song comes and slows down, a softer sound than before filling your ears, and shit— you’re at the edge of your seat now because Eddie is singing so gently, and it has your mind swirling. 

I can't believe this is happening

What did I do? What did she do to me?

…

Mending my brain again

Please don't give up on me

This hurts tremendously

How will this end for me?

When the song dies off, you can hear shuffling again before the track ends, and you’re left with spinning thoughts as you take your headphones off and let the silent and dark room envelope you.

You have to take a moment, yanking the string of the bedside lamp to light up the room so you can see your thoughts more clearly because— how do you feel? You’re not sure, honestly, and the thud of your heart beating in your chest only clouds your judgment even more because— isn’t this what you asked for? For Eddie to be open and honest with you, to tell you his true feelings and where he’s at when it comes to you. And is it enough?

Would it ever be enough for Eddie to give you one simple, stripped-down track to allow him the chance to mend what he’d ruined? 

Your heart wants it to be enough, but realistically, it’s not. Eddie has only just begun his journey to forgiveness, and you have to remind yourself that it’s not wrong to be hesitant to let him in, neither is it bad for you to want him as badly as you do. You’re both learning, and you’re both trying to fix the damage that’s been done, and it might take time, but if you both want it— if Eddie really wants you— then the time and work it takes to fix things won’t be a bother.

You listen to the song two more times, maybe more than twice, and you let the words sink into your bones until you practically have it engraved into your mind, lulling yourself to sleep with the haunting echo of Eddie’s voice and words bouncing in the walls of your skull.

And in your dreams, you meet Eddie, and for the split second you have with him there, everything is perfect— and by the time you wake up, the ticking time bomb to make your choice is now louder than it’s ever been before.

————

part eleven

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a/n: OMG HIII, you made it to the end again !!! i would just like to specify that the song eddie has written and sang for birdie in this chappy (23 x chase atlantic) is not entirely a nod towards their relationship! reader is not specifically 23 years old nor is she struggling with any type of substance abuse, the lines that were used in this chapter are the lines that actually adhere to them imo, OKAY I THINK U GET IT I'LL SHUT UP NOW.

also, this is not the last of the songs that eddie has written abt birdie btw🫣

i hope u enjoyed and i love love love reading any and all feedback as well as ur silly thots <3 AND AS ALWAYS, TY FOR READING, I LOVE U SO BIG MWAH <3

————

cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @ye0nvibezzn @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn @mossiswriting

[cheezbites]

Dating Ghost -- Part 4

✎: HAPPY NEW YEARS EVERYONE!! Ending 2024 off with a part 4 to my Ghost headcanons series!🤭

♡Summary: Headcanons of dating Ghost.

︵‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Bf!Ghost lets you drag him along to parties. You received a last-minute invitation to this big New Year's party, and he already knew there's no way you'll miss it. He doesn't protest. In fact, he doesn't even mind. He found himself mildly enjoying the company of other people, picking up on bits and pieces of meaningful conversations such as their resolutions, hopes or big plans for the year ahead of them.

His attention, however, is almost entirely fixed on you. Whether you’re catching up with someone you know or heading off to grab another drink, his sharp eyes follow your every move, ensuring you’re always within his sight.

As the clock nears striking midnight, the big countdown begins and the room almost instantaneously buzzes with excitement and anticipation. Ghost gently pulls you into his arms, tuning out the raucous cheers and clinking glasses around you. He kisses you softly, his masked demeanor melting away in the intimacy of the moment.

“Guess you’re stuck with me for another year, eh? Don’t know how you do it.”

Bf!Ghost loves the idea of cozying up at home with you. The world outside is cheery and loud: groups of friends heading to or returning from clubs, the occasional firework bursting in the sky, and the distant hum of cars as people race to make it home before midnight. But his world—being you—is cozily inside with him. A bottle of champagne, your favorite cheesy sitcom playing on the TV, and a soft blanket draped over the both of you, making the moment so effortlessly perfect.

Bf!Ghost keeps in contact with you, no matter where he is, this man will find a way. His texts range from sarcastic remarks to just random snapshots of his day. He has this knack for making you laugh with his dry humour and cheeky quips.

"Guess what I had to deal with today? Idiots."

*(Attached: A photo of some destroyed expensive looking military equipment) "Just a bunch of idiots."

Or, out of nowhere, a photo of a random animal he saw, captioned: “This you?”

Bf!Ghost isn’t the type to sit down and plan New Year’s resolutions. It’s just not his thing—too much fuss over things he figures he’ll do anyway. But with you, it’s become a tradition. He always kept his short and practical, things like, “Stick to the training routine,” or “Get the truck serviced.” Straightforward. No fluff. But every single time, you'd make sure to add an impossibly unachievable one regarding Simon, like “Convince Simon to wear a ridiculous party hat.”

But little does he know, you’ve got your ways. It's not even February, but he’s sitting on the couch with a sparkly, oversized party hat perched on his head. He grumbles something about how you’re impossible, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that he can’t hide.

His biggest resolution this year is different, though. It’s more personal: “Learn to take a proper holiday with you.” He’s honest about it—years have gone by without him truly relaxing, and he knows he owes it to himself—and to you—to find that peace.

He secretly loves when you set a goal for the both of you, like planning a getaway or trying a new hobby together. Even though he pretends it’s all “your idea,” he’s all in from the start. It’s the kind of commitment he doesn’t say out loud, but you can see it in the way he clears his schedule, shows up on time, and puts his whole heart into whatever you’re doing. With Simon, even the smallest resolutions become something meaningful when it’s with you.

Bf!Ghost stares. A lot. But not in a creepy way, but in a way that makes you feel like you're the only person in the room, and that's if you notice--most of the time you don't. When he zeroes in on you, it's like he's in a sort of daze and there's a softness that momentarily lingers in the creases of his eyes.

"Y'know, you always do that thing..." You mention whilst glancing over at him. He was leaning back on the couch, casually sipping on his drink with his eyes fixed on you.

"What thing?"

You tilt your head and a smile plays at your lips. "Stare."

He just shrugs like it's no big deal. But you can tell by the shift in his gaze that it means more. “I like looking at you,” he says, voice low and quiet, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Bf!Ghost keeps a picture of you in his wallet, hidden among the military IDs and mission cards. It's just a photo, after all—nothing to make a fuss over. But the way his fingers linger on it when he's pulling out his cards or the small smile that tugs at his lips when he sees it tells a different story.

Bf!Ghost holds onto little souvenirs from your outings and dates. The ticket from the first movie you saw together? It's in a safe place in his drawer. A napkin with a doodle you drew as you were chattering away with your friends on the phone, laughing about silly gossip? That's tucked into his wallet, next to your picture.

Bf!Ghost surprises you with these small, simple decorations when the New Year rolls around, like some dazzling fairy lights twinkling in the corner or some sparklers at night. When you asked him about him, he just shrugs with a nonchalant look and says, "Felt like it."

But deep down, you know it's because he loves seeing you get excited or surprised whenever he does something special, even if it's out of the usual for him. He's secretly a sucker for seeing you get all thrilled over new beginnings,

Bf!Ghost discovers you putting together a messy craft project, showcasing all your favourite memories from 2024. You've been in and out of rooms, running around to fetch a variety of creative supplies and being careful to not prick your foot with scissors or knock over an unscrewed glitter jar on your way back.

"What do we have here?" He asked, leaning against the doorframe and observing as you neatly trimmed a photograph to stick onto your collage.

"A time capsule, right? But make it *aesthetic*." You answer, still focusing on the right place to glue this photo of him (he didn't even realise you took it) onto your collage.

Stepping into the room, he watches you rearrange and readjust bits of paper as you searched for the perfect combination. He decided to make himself useful, sitting across from you and quietly helping with cutting things out for you or suggesting ideas. Every little thing he does makes the process a little smoother. He's there, helping you build something together—just like he’s always there for the bigger moments.

Bf!Ghost finally lets you paint his nails after what seemed like hours of pleading and begging--but just one, which was perfect for what you were trying to do, anyway.

You chose his thumb so you can have more efficient and visually representative thumb wars, of course. I don't know how this man does it, but every time he wins. His true competitive nature comes out in a good old fashioned thumb war. But it's also another excuse to hold your hand and hear you giggling as you thrash about and try cheating your way through getting his thumb cornered.

You carefully painted it black and added a tiny ghost doodle in white, refining all the details in black with a tiny and precise brush.

"Fits, don't touch think?" You teased, holding it up for him to inspect.

But you didn't want Ghost Jr. to feel left out, so you got a matching one. (But yours is pink, of course). Whenever you held his hand, you always dubbed them as 'best buddies' and pressed your thumbs together, making hand holding all the more special to you guys.

Masterlist

🌸Part One

🌸Part Two

🌸Part Three

✎: This one felt super short to me, but that only means there's more works to comeeesej!!😝 SHARE YOUR RESOLUTIONS IN THE COMMENTS I'D LOVE TO HEAR🩷 Mine's to stop perfectionism and procrastinating.. nasty habit of mine😭 hence the super long writing hiatus--but she's BACKK💕🫶 I missed you guys so much!!1!1!

[scintillyyy]

do you have recs for janet drake fics, where her characterisation isnt evil abuser cold etc

ooooh this is actually a kind of tall order because the problem is that most fics that still try to be better parent janet drake still usually fall into the trap of "she was a cold business shark! she just loved tim despite it" even though the drakes are shown as a family who 1) generally like spending time together with their son when they're home 2) are shown to be a very huggy and tactile family & janet's main character trait for the little she appears is being a bit emotional and worried about her son because we still live in a world that tries to refrigerator-mother any woman who isn't perfect at parenting and often when writing a woman who's a "good/fierce/badass" role model for her son you see this tendency towards she has to want to step on men with her heels and kill them with her eyeliner and has to be feared and scary because it's hashtag feminist rather than her being the one to teach him things like kindness and empathy. it's like an exaggerated version of a sitcom trope where since the dad of course has to be a dundering buffoon, she has to be the one with the brains. however! outside of my two big janet fics which i know having loving and warm janet bc that's how i write her i have trawled through the janet drake & tim drake tag excluding bad parents jack and janet drake leaving me with like 200odd works that are still like 80% bad parents jack and janet drake to find at least a few gems:

every good gold digger by roseandgold137 - is on the good end of the janet drake parentinf spectrum

and if you’re just as hopeless, i wish you well by magnoliclies - does have a colder, more ruthless type janet but one who clearly loves her son & makes sense within the backstory given that's not evil high societal old money socialite

initial of creation, and / the exponent of earth by silvernaut - more tim and janet's grave but is a coming out fic where he tells her he's gay and robin and doesn't assume she'd be a homophobe about it all

dino nuggets and sprite by hyyyperfixated - has an overall kind and caring janet

time slipped through my fingers by oddny - again more tim + janet's grave but also presumes a positive relationship between the two

the circus by zahri - it helps that z and i have almost the same conceptualization of janet + the drakes but i do always love her take on affectionate but fails a bit janet

bones of a dinosaur, bones of a city by zahri - same reasons as above

shut eye by audreycritter - while this version of the janet-tim mother-child dyad is definitely a bit different from how i perceive it, this is still a good and sympathetic version of janet from a while back when there was definitely nothing but slander going on for her and is a very empathetic look at a reason she could have have struggles + does really well within the confines of the fic's premise

my thanks to ms. monroe by loosingletters - the premise is that jack is way worse than he probably was in canon has the fanon bristol next door neighbors to the waynes upbringing for tim, but manages to capture what janet would do

[strawberrysnoopy]

ACT ONE: The Photo Shoot, part one

prologue

summary of the series: for months, leon has been writhing in his bed dreaming of his friend's wife (you). he's been fighting the desperation for months until that one night you bring up a lingerie shoot you've done for a prestigious brand.

summary of this part: recalling the first time you and leon met, you've realized you've been poorly treated by your husband. leon is no different, in a toxic relationship with his wife, ada wong. as the seeds of resentment have begun to germinate, the desire for you grows like a brush fire nearby.

warnings: MENTIONS OF PUKE, BUT NOT ACTUAL PUKING, leon teaches you how to smoke (i don't wanna see no dumb stupid comments about "oh but leon hates smoking", well leon isn't disloyal but here we are), brief use of (adjective) girl (atta girl, good girl, silly girl), praise, mentions of misogyny (not from Leon ofc), awkward, tense ass convos, a fuckton of desc. and a little description, no sex (yet ;) ), cussing, descriptions of fucking, descriptions of masturbation, semi-public masturbation, almost caught masturbating, slight corruption kink (? if you squint), alcohol consumption, use of tobacco, smoking, implied sexual references, etc.

also a/n, writing this as of feb. 2nd, 2024: 60 notes?!!!!! i was writing this for my own personal pleasure but like...??!?! i got reblogged so many times?! im gagged, tysm you guys!!! making a playlist rn, so excited to release the soundtrack. if you see little random edits, i'm probably obsessing over the fic and trying to make it perfect lol/anticipate changes. i would also like to write I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING! always communicate with your partner, discuss issues, etc. this fic is just a lil’ taboo type of fantasy, do NOT cheat on your partners.

The first time you met Leon was at a grocery store: two weeks before your husband would have any idea of his existence and one week before he had invited Leon and his wife, Ada, over for dinner. You were picking up a bottle of red wine for you and your husband under the guise of wanting something nice for date night. The reality would actually be you were buying it for yourself after your husband decides you're not worth his affections anymore, lazily mosey on over to the spare room, and pull out his phone to text other women. The wine would be something to drink to inebriate you while you watched a shitty re-run of a sitcom from the 90s. Maybe if you got lucky, Golden Girls was on.

He was only browsing, stumbling upon the liquor section and staying to look if there would be anything worthwhile. And there was. It was you. He knew he had to think of something witty, something cool people say, before you left and thought he was some creep staring at you because he saw a smidgen of your breasts in a magazine. "You're a famous model, right?" He asked. Oh, how stupid he felt. He was a chronic overthinker: thinking of every last terrible scenario, a trait he picked up after becoming an agent. This had certainly felt like one of the worst options he picked, especially with how you would-- You interrupted him. "Yeah, that's me." The subtle sweetness, the slight rasp in your voice was better than anything any street drug could offer with the amount of dopamine flooding into his brain: overloading every neuron, synapse, dendrite, and cell membrane in his body.

But for whatever reason, he stretched his hand outwards and lazily grinned towards you. "I'm Leon." "Nice to meet you. Well, I'd say my name but y'know..." He nodded in an awkward agreement before you could even finish your sentence, but not daring to go as far to interrupt you. He felt as if he already started off the conversation with a cumbersome beginning. "Right, right. So, that's your real name? I see a lot of models use stage names n' stuff like that." He adjusts his weight from one foot to the other, switching the hand holding his grocery basket from his right to his left. He felt so...awkward around you. Maybe it was the fact you were a famous model, or maybe it was the fact you were just so calm. The joke causes a soft chuckle to leave your lips and the mere look of a fleeting moment of bliss to cross over your features makes his knees turn into gelatin. Those nerves solidify into stone when the overwhelming sense of guilt hits him like a tidal wave but allows it to wash over him for the sake of continuing the conversation.

"Yeah, just my regular name. I'm not that creative outside of modeling. Usually the photographers do the thinking and the creative processes for me." He chuckled, shaking his head and barely moving himself a little closer. Leon wanted to sink in that gentle, warm, and soft presence you carried around with you. Your aura felt comforting: like a hug after a tough day: it had felt so much more different than his wife. True, Ada could be affectionate but that's usually only after something good has happened to her or Leon was her last resort of attention. He really hated how much he would act like an obedient dog, awaiting her arrival home, coming back to her after she's treated him like dirt. You? You felt so goddamn altruistic and considerate. And he's only known you for three minutes.

You notice he's gone silent and you're silently hoping he thought you were cool. Cool. Like a teenager trying to fit in. You silently cringe at yourself until he smiles at you, almost like he's signaling you to continue the conversation. You can't think of any conversation starters. And you're a model for gods sake. You're usually so outgoing and social with other people but now it's like a cat came by and stole your voice box. Thankfully, he takes over that portion for you. "Buying wine?" He knew it was dry as all hell but he wanted to steer the conversation away from him being a fan of your modeling gigs. No, he just wanted to talk to you and discover what you were like behind the camera. (Okay, and maybe he wanted to see if you'd flirt with him.) "Yup. But I'm just buying wine for..." You paused, about to say 'for me and my husband' but your throat becomes dry whenever you feel like you're about to announce it to him. "...Myself."

He smiles. He likes that you're awkward in real life. The fact made you feel more real, like you weren't just some sexy model with expensive tastes and a bratty attitude. You were a person like anyone else.

"Right. Me too, just uh...just browsing." You nod, fidgeting anxiously with the sleeves of the coat you decided to toss on last minute before leaving the house.

The conversation went on to end when you eventually realized you would be home late. Although you thought that worrying your husband a little would be the thing that reignited the spark in your marriage, you knew that punctuality was a habit you'd like to upkeep. That, and you also knew if you talked to this handsome stranger for longer, you'd cheat on your husband. That night, Leon had fallen asleep to the thought of you for the first time. Soft little visions of pressing his lips against yours, caressing your cheek softly and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, etc, etc, cheesy lovey dovey bullshit. So much more different than the truly filthy thoughts he had about you nowadays. You're torn from your conversation with your friends when you make eye contact with him. You can practically feel his eyes travel from the hair at the highest point on your head to the very last bit of your black, leathery heels with perfect pretty pearls embellished on the pump. For a moment, you feel like you're trapped in some type of horny labyrinth while you stare longingly at him.

He's ripped out of his own longing by the feeling of your husband's hand slapping his back. Ada sat beside Leon with her arm protectively wrapped around his bicep. You felt as if the gesture were a signal to everyone at the party that Leon belonged to her. He was under her control, nobody else's. Or maybe the protective message was for her husband, as if he was an unruly friend to her husband. And you could agree with that. You fell in love with your husband because he was wild and care-free but after the diamond ring was slipped onto your ring finger, you realized he was also carefree in the sense that hurt you: talking to other women behind your back, and leaving for days at a time only to come back inebriated. But you stood by his side, no matter what. You hated how you felt like a doormat but you didn't know what else to do besides stay married and play the role of an oblivious wife while your husband fucks other women in various positions. In a way, you and Leon sat in the same loveless boat. Who knew when that same boat would be shaking from the violence of the both of you fucking, clothing pulled out and to the side instead of being fully taken off. Your thoughts become interrupted by an unmistakably handsome voice.

"Hey."

You feel a hand being placed upon your lower back except it's so much more different than your husband's. The palms were rough, callouses inside the nooks and crannies, and pulsing veins make you all dizzy if you thought about it for too long. His voice was dampened with some undertone of lust, his fingers prodding into the skin of your sides. He's always been a little too handsy for a man that's supposed to happily married. But you always figured touch was how he communicates: touch. But he's never touchy with your husband. Or any of your friends. And he missed you? Sure, your're friends due to the fact your husband was friends with Leon. (Even though you met him first, but I digress.) The simple phrase had your mind reeling, cheeks flushed red due to the hidden intimacy of it all. His wife shoots him a look and his hand immediately retreats back to his side, fighting the urge to palm the engorged erection struggling against the seam of his boxers. "Haven't seen you in so long, hm? Thought you disappeared on me for a minute." He's holding his facade of being totally and irrevocably in love with Ada up and steady. Like he had no feelings for you other than being friends.

"Of course not." You murmur, feeling a hearty chuckle reverberate from his chest. He takes his index finger and his thumb and gently swiping it against your chin.

"Atta girl." And of course, with how hoarse his voice is, your panties are instantly puddled with a thick pool of arousal. You hate his stupid, thick, sexy, and deep voice. You especially hate his voice whenever you imagine him degrading and praising you whenever your husband was away and you just happened to have your hand down your underwear, playing with your clit to ease the throbbing impulses you felt for Leon. He gives your back a single pat before moving back to stand beside his wife. You really hate that you feel jealousy flare like wildfire within you, but you brush it off.

Everyone would eventually be drawn to the several dining tables that were arranged in a group and had golden candlesticks and smooth white tablecloths on top. Once you are seated, you observe that Leon appears to be striving extra hard to guarantee his place beside you. He looks right at you for a brief moment. And only then can you see, just a hint of thirst sprouting in his eyes, before he glances away from you and gives Ada a quick smile while patting her thigh.

It's only a few minutes before Leon decides to break the awkward silence.

"How's that modeling gig going?" You nod, gulping down way too much champagne.

"Good, been going good. Have to admit it gets a little boring posing in front of the camera after a while but can't bite the hand that pays you, right?" You joke, and the table laughs with some sense of jealousy. "Nice to hear. What was your latest shoot?" He asked, leaning forward in a sudden rush of intrigue. Then those words pass your lips. Words he had never anticipated, even in his wildest guess (oddly.)

"A lingerie shoot. For Chanel." The table goes quiet. And everyone, including your dumb-ass husband, look at you. Someone (Ada) clears their throat in the dining room, hinting at you to elaborate and it's almost like you suddenly developed to ability to hear from light years away.

Leon, who had just finally got his goddamn boner under control feels his cock twitch back to life, fully hard instead of a semi this time. And correct him if he's wrong, but he starts to feel pre-cum smearing his dress pants. He's thankful he chose the black slacks instead of his lighter colored ones otherwise this would be downright humiliating.

"Sorry, um...I did an intimates photo-shoot for Chanel a few weeks ago for their new line of clothing." That seems to help lighten the mood a lot more because everyone goes back to their conversation with their respective friends, the embarrassing "confession" from you immediately leaving their minds. "The theme was Overtime. Like, staying later in the office with my shirt unbuttoned and stuff. Nothing that interesting."

The table simultaneously nodded, Leon going as far to excuse himself for a cigarette.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go have a smoke." Leon scoots out from his seat, heading towards the upstairs balcony to take care of business. Asshole, leaving me with his mean ass wife.

You decide to join him outside.

The air had finally gotten too tense, felt too judgmental for your taste. Scampering outside, you're met with the sight of Leon smoking a cigarette outside. That's odd: you've usually pegged him to be the straight-laced, no-nonsense type of man yet here he was, smoking a cigarette while leaning against the balustrade of their friend's top floor home. At the sound of the balcony door opening, he turns his head to see what you're doing out here. His eyes scan you, almost like he would while he's in combat but it's more or less to get another glimpse of the outfit you were wearing tonight. Okay, and maybe he wanted to commit the sight of you to memory.

"You alright?" He asked, trying his best to look straight forward when you step closer and cross your arms over the balustrade.

"M'fine, just needed a minute of fresh air, I think." When you sit beside Leon, there's a few things you notice. The first was his outfit. A white button-up that usually would be covered by his black suit jacket, though he left it behind on his chair in the dining room. There's also mentioning his blacks slacks, fitting his muscular thighs a bit tight but loose enough so they're comfortable. Then there's the dress shoes, ones he wore at his wedding due to how overly formal they looked. Maybe he wanted to get some more use out of them? Who knows.

"What about you? Why are you out here?" You decided to be the one to take the reigns since the air outside had become incredibly awkward as well. "Same. Thought I'd take a minute of fresh air, you know?" The second thing you notice about Leon is how much he calms you. More importantly, how much you never noticed that you were anxious when you were around others. He had this aura of relaxing or maybe you were just buzzed, who knows that either? Maybe it's the cigarette, speaking of...

"I haven't smoked since college. Cigarettes, I mean. Don't think I even know how to do it anymore." The confession makes his head tilt to the side, now taking more of an interest in the conversation than before. He grinned wolfishly, taking your chin in one of his thick and strong hands and pulling your head forward. For a second, you could almost be dumb enough to think he'd be moving in for a kiss. Of course not. You'd never be that lucky. "Open f'me, sweetheart." And like an obedient puppy, you opened your mouth just enough so your pretty pink-shaded lips could be parted. He placed the cigarette on your lip, the moisture making the filter stay in your mouth alongside his index and middle finger holding it up, thumb brushing your chin. Little hazes of grey smoke dance along your tongue without even taking a sip of the smoke yet, your lips trembling with a lustful agony. "Now close your mouth..." He whispered, his damp and hot and horny breath hitting your ear like an affectionate declaration of love. "And inhale."

You close your lips around the cigarette, faintly tasting the flavor of him where he had sucked on the cigarette. You got notes of citrus, rum or some expensive, top-shelf label of whiskey he used to help quell the pain he experienced on grueling missions, tobacco, and maybe even the slightest hint of his wife's lipstick. Chanel's Rogue Allure, if you had to guess correctly. "...Now hold it..."

You held it. "Silly girl." He whispered, pulling the cigarette away from your lips while you slowly exhaled the rest of the smoke you've been holding in your mouth and then some. You can't tell if it's because of the alcohol, Leon's presence, or your mere anxiety but you begin to feel dizzy. Thankfully Leon seems to swoop in with his questions to keep your head in the game. Bless him.

"Why'd you need a minute, huh?"

For a minute there, you didn't know how to respond. Looking down at the leathery pumps you chose for the evening, you begin to wonder why you even chose them instead of answering his question. But you answered him. Eventually.

"I'm just tired. This whole night just seems a bit…” You gesture to the party in the background. “Fake. I don’t want to be here."

He hummed in agreement, but it felt like more of a signal for you to keep going. "I'm also just terrible at making conversation. Especially when it's awkward and silent."

His eyes flicker down to the pumps he'd already stared at tonight, not finding an interest in them anymore than your own body. He tucked his lip between his teeth, pulling the pink flesh away from his mouth before he spoke up again. "You're not that bad, you know? I think you're pretty good. How about this?" He pauses. Then a beat passes.

"Tell me something true. Tell me something you wouldn't brag to anyone about." He moved his cigarette to rest on the balustrade instead of the space between his fingers. "Something that's yours...and only yours."

You look at Leon with wide eyes, mouth agape as you struggle to answer his question. Your eyes rake down his face from the space between his eyebrows to his parted, pink lips: just a little chapped from the cold chill of the night air. You wanted to kiss him. All of those times you've had him over for dinner, all of those times you've spent with your hand down your panties while your husband was away on "business": dreaming of his best friend, Leon, and god, all of those times you thought about throwing caution to the wind and leaning in to press your lips against his: the sum of all of those moments had you quivering for more.

But you'd never cheat. You have a reputation. You have a husband that gifted you the pretty diamond ring on your finger. But how did it always feel so...impossible? Like you couldn't live another day if you weren't able to fuck Leon like a rabid dog in heat. But he was staring at you, almost as if his eyes were laser beams and searing holes into your skin: you had to answer.

"I don't know what I could tell you that's only mine." You chew on your lip. "Huh. How about..."

How about the fact I wanna kiss you? I wish it was you I was in bed with rather than my stupid, cheating husband? The fact you are so much hotter than him?

"I hate being a trophy." And that brings the biggest grin on Leon's face. A massive shit-eating grin. Leon had gone stir crazy. He wanted to peel your entire being open, see all of the nooks and crannies of your soul and devour it whole. But now wasn't the time to scare you away: even if he wanted to fuck you, you were still a friend to him. So he calmed down. "I can't say that's too surprising. I mean, who would? Being able to be pretty and have money being tossed at you is nice until you want something deeper. Then it seems like one of the only things that are scarce in your life."

You nod, letting out a breath of consolation. "That's exactly how I feel. Like my only purpose is to sit still, look pretty, serve my husband, and be a hole when he needs it."

His eyes become downcast, looking down at the garden on the ground level of the restaurant. "I get what you mean." The moment was interrupted by a waiter peeking out on the two of you: head poked outside of the door that lead to the outside area. He pulls his hand away from your soft skin and back to his side, sighing wistfully that tonight wouldn't be the night he gets to act on his desires for you. Damn it all to hell.

"You should head back. I'll be back, yeah?" You nod and within a few seconds, you've returned to your spot at the dinner table. He sighs, hand slipping down to palm at his erection. Fuck. Can't go back like this.

Just resist. You're just another woman. You have a husband, He thinks to himself, I'm married to a lovely woman. I am a faithful husband. The silent mantra he practices on himself works about as well as a band-aid on a bullet hole. Resist. God, but you looked so pretty tonight. That cute jewelry set you wore with your little black dress? Hot. The smoothness of your skin?

Resist.

But he can't stop picturing you on your knees in front of him, sucking on his cock. The sounds your perfect, wet mouth would make. How he'd ease himself down your throat. How you'd whine.

Resist.

Or how about when he could be fucking his cock into your tight, wet, and warm cunt? The tip of his dick kissing your cervix? Or what about the positions he could force your body into? Like having his arm around your throat, bicep curling into your mouth to muffle your moans from his wife hearing? Or how one of his hands would be gripping your hips while he needily plowed into your pussy, while you begged him to let up. Resist.

Resist.

Fuck it.

In the few moments after he's excused himself from you, he's already rushing to the upstairs bathroom of the restaurant: thanking the holy beings above for making it a single stall bathroom for his jerking pleasure. He hastily unbuckles his belt with one hand, other hand impulsively opening Twitter as a first resort to find some fashion fanatic post about the slutty lingerie photo-shoot you did for Chanel. Alas, you're still a bit of an undiscovered goddess in the modeling industry at the moment: so Google is his next best option. He pulls out his half-hard but hardening cock from his jeans before he can even find your photo-shoot and gives it a quick few pumps to ease the throbbing that's starting to build up in his loins. Eventually, he finds it. Thank fucking god because the creativity for his fantasies are beginning to run quite dry. And instantly he's grunting and groaning while he strokes his cock and scrolls through the multiple scandalous photos the photographers took of you.

"Fuck." He winces in pleasurable agony as he stares at quite possibly his favorite photo of you. The photo was in black and white: theme being "Overtime" like you mentioned. The white button up shirt was undone, revealing you had nothing on underneath, and allowed for the side of your perfect breasts to be revealed. If he squinted just a little harder, he could see your puffy nipples threatening to peek out of the shirt. He tried squinting a little harder to see your nipples a little easier. And oh my god. You have piercings?! He almost shot his entire load on the spot. God, he needed to fuck you. And hard. He groans as he feel himself get closer to orgasm. Closer, and closer, until--

"Leon?"

Fuck. It was you. God, of course you're so goddamn sweet, checking up on him to make sure he's okay. He didn't dare stop stroking himself off, especially not when he's got jerk-worthy material of you almost catching him. That's also not mentioning the soft intonations of your almost innocent voice right there. He's trying not to cum too quick, wanting to savor those images for as long as he could but he also realized his wife might start asking some questions and she wouldn't be on the other side of the door if she came upstairs. "F-fuck, yeah?" He responded after much too long of hearing your sweet voice. "Did you need something?" "Are you okay? I just got worried when you left. You've been gone for like..." You check your wristwatch: a classic and dainty Timex from the 80s with a blank band that wrapped around your wrist snugly.

"Fifteen minutes. Do you need water? Ibuprofen?" He shakes his head as if you could see him while he continues to jerk himself off, hand swirling in a sort of cranking motion as he tries to work his cock to orgasm. But his pre-cum isn't coming out fast enough, not as fast as the pumping motions his hand was doing right now, so he spits in his hand before bringing his palm back down to his cock and lathering his dick in spit. You believe him enough to think he might be getting ready to vomit.

"Nah, jus'...ngh, drank too much, I think." Please keep talking, He selfishly thinks to himself. "Oh, okay. Well, if you need anything, just text me?" He nodded, grunting out a thank you while he continues to dream of ruthlessly fucking you until you're embedded into his mattress. He wants you. He needs you. He feels himself get a little closer until he finally releases into his fist. His hot and sticky cum ran down his palm while the waves of post-orgasmic bliss and post-nut clarity simultaneously moved together as one. For a few minutes, he's panting like a rabid dog in heat until his breath eventually stills and he's able to walk downstairs and look his wife in the face while giving her the impression that he definitely didn't just masturbate to his best friend's wife. When he sits down at the table, the first person he makes eye contact with is you. You smile at him, mouthing a "you okay?" because, of course, you're still worried about him being sick. He nods with a grin peeled onto his face. Because he came to the sound of your voice. And you didn't have a fucking clue.

credits: snoopy divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more heart divider by @saradika-graphics

[chelleztjs18]

Love Language (W.M)

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!CivilianReader (Avengers AU)

Summary: After Thanos, Wanda retires, along with a long term effect from all the missions she had and then she met you.

Warning: None, just some fluff. Mentions of hearing loss and sign languages.

A/n: Hello! It's me! I have a fluff now after the angsts I have posted. Thanks to my Curious George anon for the inspiring talk and ideas. Y'all can thank her too for motivating me to write and post a fic here today. lol. Welp, happy reading peeps!

Main Masterlist

Years of being Avengers was quite a lot for Wanda, not to mention losing Vision after Pietro. Mission after mission, countless fighting off the enemies felt like she was in an endless war without any possibility to end.

Fortunately, Wanda was wrong. After defeating Thanos, The Avengers are finally able to retire. Wanda is grateful that everybody including her are still alive, though it was hard for her in the beginning to get out the grief from Vision’s death. During all of the fighting she has been through as an Avengers, Wanda can’t escape the explosions or other loud sounds that happened.

It cost her an invisible permanent damage. Wanda has a progressive hearing loss. Her hearing is slowly deteriorating by time causing her to have to learn to read people’s lips in the beginning. With Natasha’s support, Wanda finally accepts her condition and learns sign language to be prepared for the day when she totally loses her hearing.

Then you come into her life.

To Wanda, meeting you at the grocery store near her house was the best thing ever to happen to her life. You brought back the colors in her life that she thought she had lost. You and Wanda have been together for almost a year. She loves you with all her heart. You are the life that she never thought that she would have ever again. Losing people that she loves has made her very skeptical in finding her happiness again but you have saved her.

You, you fell in love with her very hard. Heads over heels. To you, Wanda is perfect. No matter how much she tells you that she is not. You can’t blame her. You understand why she always tells you that she is not perfect because of her condition. Although right now she can still hear certain sounds but most of the time, Wanda can’t hear very well.

Wanda tries to stall as long as she can to not wear hearing aids. She doesn’t feel confident

about how it looks when she puts them on even though some of them don’t look that obvious and are pretty discreet. At this point, Tony has given up in trying to convince her to wear the one that he created special for her. She prefers to read people's lips than wear hearing aids.

Since the first time you both met and then officially dating, the communications have been easy. You always try to talk clearly and slowly and she focuses on reading your lips. Wanda sees how patient you are no matter how many times she asks you to repeat your words or when she doesn’t hear your soft spoken voice.

Wanda knows how hard it is to learn sign language so she always tells you that you don’t have to learn about it. She loves you so much that she told you she would wear hearing aids once she loses all her hearing to save you and your time from learning sign language.

With mutual understanding and how much both of you love each other, life has been very beautiful and happy. Both of you do a lot of things together. Her favorite is movie night together with a lot of snacks and drinks. Either watching new movies at the theater and sometimes at home or watching another rerun of her or your favorite sitcoms.

Wanda always tries to hold herself back not to ask you whenever she probably can’t hear or miss some words because she doesn’t want to bother you. Being the sweetest girlfriend you are, you always quickly pause the movie whenever you see her face looking confused because you know what is actually happening and then help her explain or ask her which part she misses.

Tonight, you just bought an older movie that Wanda has been wanting to watch with you. All snacks are ready on the table and you are waiting for Wanda to bring the drinks.

You have been munching your favorite chips while waiting for her.

“Okay, here’s your drink, my sweet.” Wanda hands you the drink. You take the drink and try to finish the chips in your mouth before you answer. “Yay! Thank you, princess.” You take a sip then put the drink down.

You have some more chips and try to finish the chips. Wanda notices that you chew in a rush.

"Baby?" She calls.

"Hm?" You tap her hands as a sign of your hum while busy chewing and turning your head to her.

"You know if you keep chewing like that you'll finish the chip before the movie even starts, right?" Wanda teases you with a question followed by a giggle.

"Well yeah, that was the point, love." You smile. Wanda squints her eyebrows a little as she tries harder to read your lips while you are chewing and talk at the same time.

"What? Why?" Wanda looks perplexed from your answer.

"Oh, I'm trying to finish them all before the movie starts because I don't want to be noisy with all the crunchy noise during the movie, so you can hear the movie better." You explained as you take more chips.

Wanda feels her heart melt instantly after hearing your reason, bubbles of joy fill her heart. Her smile shows up right away on her face.

Her hand grabs yours to stop you grabbing the chips. "Detka, that's very sweet of you. You don't have to do that, I still can hear it. Thank you very much for thinking that way."

"Are you sure? I thought you don't like crunchy food when you are watching a movie?" Now it's your turn being confused as you look at her.

Wanda laughs a little. "Well it's okay. I can still hear it. It's harder for me to hear it if I was the one that chew the crunchy snacks but thank you, y/n." She smiles once more and leans to you to give you a quick kiss on your cheek.

She snuggles up closer to you, wrapping her arms around you and looks at you with her sparkling green eyes, full of joy and thinking how lucky she is to have the thoughtful you in her life.

“What did I do to deserve you? Gosh, you are so adorable.” she says in a very loving, grateful tone.

You look at her with your blushing cheeks as usual, you don’t know how to react to her compliment for you because all you can do is smile and ask her back “What? What did I do?”

“Just being you, sweet and thoughtful to me.” she replies, followed by her giggle that always makes you want to laugh with her.

“Of course. You deserve everything.” You kiss her forehead and you hear her giggle more.

“Oh, the movie starts. Shall we watch it now?” you ask as soon as you notice the TV screen.

She nods with a smile.

_____

The first thirty minutes of the movie, both of you enjoy it together. The longer the movie passes, the more often you shift your position and it becomes too obvious for Wanda to notice.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

You look at her with a nervous smile. “Yes, I am okay, love. Why?”

“Oh nothing. Your thoughts are pretty loud. I meant I don’t really know what you are thinking but I know for sure your mind is spinning right now. Like, you are nervous or worried about something.” Your Sokovian girlfriend explains her own conclusion from what she figures from your thoughts. Despite her power that can hear your thoughts, Wanda promises you that she will never invade the privacy of your mind. Being the overthinker you are, sometimes everything in your head can be pretty loud for her to at least feel them.

You are trying your best to not think too much so it won’t give Wanda a complete gift away on what you really have on plan.

You laugh, hoping that it will cover the truth. “Nervous? Why would I be nervous?” you asked apprehensively while you clear your throat. Bunch of thoughts bounce around in your head, memorizing things while preparing the right answer for any possible questions that Wanda might ask.

Seeing more obvious and a little unusual behaviors of yours, Wanda pauses the movie. Silence is all she wants right now so she can hear you just in case you are going to say something, but you don’t.

A concerned sigh went out of her lips. “Y/n, sweetheart. Look at me, please. Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

You turn your body facing her now with your face looking down a little. You mumble a little and your hand slightly moves in a certain way as if you are rehearsing something.

“Babe, I can’t hear you and I can’t read your lips either. What did you say?” A line of confusion appears between her eyebrows. Her eyes try to look at your lips to read them.

You take a deep breath and exhale it slowly. “Okay..” you mumble once more under your breath then get on one knee.

You hold her hands and look into her eyes. Comfortable silence fills the room. “Wanda, my love.” The beautiful brunette in front of you looks so surprised with what she sees, not from what she reads on your lips because you didn’t say anything but your hands movements say it all.

You continue doing sign language for everything that you are about to say to her.

“I’m so glad that a year ago you came for my help at work and asked me where the beddings aisle was, because you were the sweetest and cutest woman I’ve ever met. My heart skipped a bit and knew that you were the one for me right then right away. Having a life with you in this past year has been the best privilege I ever have. Loving you is so easy because you are perfect and flawless. I want to keep going, having life and loving you for the rest of my life. So, Wanda, will you marry me?” you slow down your hand movement when you reach the last sentence to show more emotions in it and right after that, you grab the opened little box with a ring in it.

Wanda looks at you in awe and can’t hold back her happy tears. Joy warms her heart. She is touched by your effort and surprise at learning sign language, let alone proposing to her with it.

“Of course! Yes! A thousand times yes!” Due to how speechless she is from the enormous amount of happiness, Wanda’s hand did the sign language for her answer. She then pulls you to hug you and kiss you.

Several quick gentle kisses land on your lips and cheeks. You pull yourself back a little to see her joyful beautiful face. Wanda’s hand gently rubs your cheek and goes to the top of your head, caressing your hair as soon as you two end up snuggling on the couch.. Both of you looked at each other with the look of so much love.

“When did you learn sign language?” She questioned you in a curious tone. “Uh, Tony and Natasha have been helping me with it at the compound, plus he created this app that can help me learn more by myself whenever I can.”

“Wait, so all these overtime at work the last few months? You actually went to the compound to learn your proposal lines?” Wanda giggles and her cheeks blush at the same time.

“Yes, I have been going to the compound and no, I didn’t learn only the proposal lines. I learned everything. I know sign language now, only for you but I’m not a pro yet, so please bear with me.” you answer after you give a few more soft kisses all over her that draws more giggles from her.

“Aww, that’s really sweet. Thank you, y/n. I’m so lucky to have you.” Wanda expresses her genuine feelings.

“I love you, Wanda.”

Those words are the most beautiful words she ever reads on your lips that will always swoon her off her feet, fall for you over and over again.

“I love you too, my sweet.

A/n: Welp, that's all for today from me. I hope you enjoyed this short fluff. Let me know what you think. Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated. Follow me for more and see you in next!

Cheerio!

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