#but man oh man am I gonna stutter through it

[booksmusicteaandanimals]

When you have anticipation for a conversation coming up and a test before it. I might get sick

[multi-fandom-imagine]

❁𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝙰 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛

Warnings: Penetrative sex, aphrodisiac { pollen }

A/n: I am so sorry this is horrible, this is my first time writing GN smut.

A flower, yo were tasked with finding a flower, a bright pink flower if you wanted to be exact.

Dropping your shoulders you carefully picked the thing only for the damn thing to blast bright pollen in your face, gripping the stem of the plant you didn't even notice Ford stepping out behind you.

"Oh so you found it! Perfect....are you feeling alright."

Shuddering, you glanced at Ford with narrowed eyes. "What the fuck."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Ford gave you a sheepish smile as his cheeks turned a bright pink. "It is an aphrodisiac...I did not expect.!"

"Ford!"

"I...I'll take it too." Ford stuttered out as he looked over your flushed form as he inhaled the pollen too, a shudder running through his body.

Squeezing your legs shut, a whimper escaped your lips. "Fuck....Ford why would you."

Doing his best to stay calm, Ford ignored the hammering in his heart as he wrapped his six fingers around your hand. "It was for science."

Biting back a snort, you shook your head as a weak laugh escaped your lips. "You gonna fuck me for science."

Blushing Ford continued to pull you back the lab, his pants were becoming uncomfortable now.

“I..."He blinked a few times, he felt hot, he felt,turned on. Letting out a weak laugh he turned to face you.

"We would have trials but...if you don't mind." Ford asked, finally back in his office his hands moved to your hips. "You are my partner after all..." he cleared out his throat shifting his body, his erection throbbing now.

Letting out a soft laugh, you sunk your teeth into your lip as your hand ran down his chest. "Then I guess you have to fuck me for science."

Letting out a deep chuckle, he tilted your chin up and lowered his mouth to yours in a tender kiss. He poured all his feelings into it, once he broke the kiss. Ford rested his forehead against yours and gazed into your eyes. "You do not have to do this, I can...take matters into my own hands."

Shaking your head, you pulled the man in for another kiss. "I want this...I want you to fuck me Stanford."

Ford's breath caught at your explicit consent. Month's of pent up longing and desire boiled over, an inferno engulfing any semblance of rational thought and restraint.

Crushing his mouth to yours in a fierce, starved kiss, he hauled your body against his hardness, intoxicated by the feel of you at last in his arms. You gasped into his mouth as his erection, ground against your heat through the thin fabric.

Breaking the kiss with a groan, he grasped your thighs and lifted you effortlessly to wrap your legs around his waist. Turning his head, he nipped along your neck, laving his tongue over every sensitive spot he discovered.

"You have no idea...how long I've dreamed of this..." He muttered raggedly against your skin. His hands roamed your body with unrestrained hunger, pausing to palm your chest and roll a pebble hard nipple between his fingers.

The desk no impediment as he found your hole with his thick length. Locking eyes with you, he slid inside with one deep thrust, until he was fully seated to the hilt. Your gasp of pleasure at being filled so wholly and a low masculine groan of satisfying left them both teetering on the edge.

Ford began to move, withdrawing almost fully before surging back in a relentless rhythm. His mouth devoured yours ravenously, swallowing every moan and sigh as sheer bliss cascaded through him. At long last, his star, his entire universe was in his arms, joined with him utterly as he took you with abandon. Papers on the ground, glasses sliding off the desk with each thrust.

An airy laugh escaping your lips as you clutched the desk, grasping the hard surface. "Who knew the old timer could still get it." You teased as your fingers ran through his dark gray hair.

Ford groaned at your teasing words, making him fuck into you even harder and faster. An animalistic side surging to the surface in his unrestrained claiming of you.

"I'll try to not throw out my back." he growled gutturally, nipping your earlobe between his teeth. He felt wildly out of control but you were right there with him, meeting each powerful thrust and clawing at his back.

Hooking one arm under your knee, he hit an even deeper angle that had you screaming his name to the heavens. The sound only served to further unravel his tenuous hold on sanity.

He could feel the tension coiling impossibly tighter low in his abdomen. Glancing down between your joined bodies, the erotic sight of his glistening cock pounding relentlessly into you, he felt a flush to his cheeks as he hid his face in your neck.

"..I'm so close" he pleaded roughly. Sliding a hand between your sticky thighs, a few more strokes and you would fly over the edge into ecstasy.

"Ford! Shit don't stop...please." A whine slipping from your lips.

Ford shuddered, feeling you clench around him, his breath labored as you convulsed deliciously around his throbbing length, milking him for all he was worth, he lost himself completely to instinct. His hips snapped at a punishing pace.

The pollen, the pollen had to be effecting him. Bringing his hidden feelings to the surface.

"Mine," he snarled possessively, attacking your lips voraciously. One hand clenched your thigh in an unyielding grip. You mentally laugh at the thought of his six fingers leaving a print.

A deep groan leaving your lips feeling your release hit you as his own release hit like a freight train, detonating through him in burning waves as he slammed his hips flush against yours one final time. Thick spurts of molten seed flooded your hole, his primal grunts of satisfaction echoing around you amidst the fading echoes of your squeals.

Still locked intimately together, his labored breaths stirred your hair as he barely held your boneless form aloft with his arms. Gradually the frenzied haze lifted from his eyes, leaving only a sated glow of deep intimacy and devotion. Gazing down at your flushed, ravished appearance, his mouth curved in a wolfish smile of ownership and affection. "Mine."

Shaking your head, you brought your hand weakly ruffling his hair. Shaking your head you then fixed his glasses. "Yes...yours...I'm yours Ford."

[wolviensabes]

Logan has a massive breeding kink. 18+ Minors DNI.

I wrote something kinda similar with the whole 'rut' thing, but this will focus more on the 'breeding' aspect. Possibly will write a deep fic about this at a later date, for now this is just a short little drabble. Wrote with both afab and amab, as an afab I am not super familiar with reactions for those born as amab, so I tried my best!

Warnings: Uh filthy breeding sex thoughts?? Don't read if it's not for you. I did not edit this I typed all of this in like ten minutes.

I don't care if you are afab or amab, or capable of actually being biologically 'bred' or not...and neither does Logan.

He is going to fuck you full of his seed, no matter what hole he is stretching.

A lot of my followers have come to me and said they are amab, and I want to give you guys some love too. Logan will throw you on the bed...or couch...or floor. He will tear your clothes off while leaving all those lovely bites on your neck and shoulder, trailing down your chest and abdomen, his rough and calloused hands feeling you as he finally reaches your pants. I hope you didn't pay much for them because they're in tatters as he grows too frustrated to unbutton them.

"Look at you, rock hard from the thought of my cock in your ass?" He teases you, watching you throb and twitch, your own sex felt swollen and leaked like crazy. This man knew just how to get you going. He likes to stoke you until you squirm, spitting on your dick as his hand works you. His thumb trails teasingly on the tip and he grins down at you as you whine for him. "Ah, gotta lube up my fingers to stretch ya...don't want me goin' in dry do you?" he teases, using your precum as lube on his fingers and circling your tight hole.

He leans down, spreading you and licks over you, his tongue prying and greedy. Once you seem wet enough, he will push one finger in. Two, maybe three. Curling them against that pretty little spot that makes pleasure jolt up your spine and make you a moaning mess. So desperate for an orgasm you try reaching for anything to grab onto.

When Logan does penetrate you, it is so intense and you feel like he splits you in half. It stings and burns, but it also feels so damn good you don't want him to stop. Ever. "Logan! Oh my god, please, move...please." Your voice wavers with begging pleasure, just as he likes to hear. It gets him going, so riled up and ready to fuck you until you can't take it.

His balls are so heavy and his stockpile of cum is huge. It doesn't matter if you're a dude, he will breed you. It was funny the first time it came up during sex, he rolled his eyes at your genuine concern telling him you can't get pregnant. He deadpans at you and scoffed, "Ya, I know that, bub...it's called fantasy for a reason. Just let me have this." he grumbled, though your concern to his words was pretty cute...and funny.

"Damn it...fuck." he snarled as his cock buried as far as it could in your ass, watching himself disappear inside you. "Takin' me so well aren't ya, pup...watchin' you squirm with my dick inside you 'bout makes me unload." he groaned and teased you, enjoying how your face blushed darkly and you mewl under your breath, biting your lip to keep yourself from sounding like you're in a fucking heat.

"M'gonna fill your tight little hole with all my seed, you're gonna be drooling it outta your greedy ass, swallowing and milkin' me already..." he spoke filthy words while he thrusted hard and fast, you felt so dizzy and lightheaded in the best way. It was incredible, such pleasure overtook your body and you felt yourself spasm as he teased your tip, your own orgasm hitting you like a freight train.

You sputtered cum onto your belly and chest, he laughs lowly, grunting like a feral animal in your ear. "Messy boy. Look what you did..." He leaned down and licked a stripe through the mess and kissed you, your own cum on his tongue and you tasted yourself on the messy kiss. His hips stutter into you and he grabs you tightly, curling around your body and pressing you until he exploded inside your ass. That delicious snarling cry from him, a guttural roar, and his repetitive thrusts fill you up with his spunk.

He goes until every last drop is inside you, and he settles with his hips against you. "You're gonna keep me in ya...even if I have to keep my dick inside you."

With your pleading whine and groan, you pressed back against his cock, still hard in your ass. It makes Logan give a small thrust back, chuckling at you. You were so needy, it made him so fucking happy seeing how much you needed him. "That's my good boy, ya need it...? Fine. I'll give ya another load."

Logan talks a bit more if there's a possibility of getting you pregnant, or if he's with an afab. He's a little more filthy with his words since he knows the risks involved.

"Yeah...you want me to cum inside ya? You wanna get pregnant with my babies? Nngh....I'm gonna fill that womb. I'm gonna make sure you are leakin'..." he snarls at you while he's completely buried in your stretched, swollen cunt.

Can you barely register his words? Yes. But you don't care. You want his cum, you want him to fuck you senseless...which he has been. You were no better than a bitch in heat for him and he fucking loved it.

"Gonna be so damn full, gonna get you pregnant," he groaned and grunted hard, his instincts flaring with the possibility of actually impregnating and breeding you. It drove his hips faster and harder into you, like he couldn't control himself or stop.

His hips thrust so hard into you, the impact on your plush ass began to grow sore, you knew that your backside would be bruised and it wasn't even from spanking. He continued to pound into you, he bent you in all sorts of ways, positions you didn't think you could bend in.

Your body was covered in love bites and dark bruises, your nipples swollen from his teasing and they had a sting that enhanced all your pleasure with every thrust.

"Damn, look at you writhing. Such a good thing for me, sweet girl," he laughed as his dick kissed your cervix over and over, precum coating your inner walls. "I'm gonna fill you, princess...make that pretty little womb full." his hips continued to snap into you, biting your neck as he let out muffled growls against your skin.

You feel yourself crying with nothing but the overwhelming feeling of your orgasm, what number is this? You don't know. All you know is the pad of his finger is playing with your precious bundle of nerves and you can barely feel anything besides the raging fire of your climax shooting through you.

When he does cum, it is so much it overflows out of you, the sheer amount of it is insane. Your eyes widen, feeling the hot seed filling your precious fertile womb. If you're ovulating don't even think about running. Logan will literally hunt you down and bend you over until he is completely empty.

Thanks for reading my filthy thoughts lol. Maybe I'll turn this into an actual fic one day.

Byee 🧡

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[seungfl0wer]

*Jeongin Calling You Clingy*

Paring: Jeongin x Reader (GN)

Genre: Angst

Warnings: I honestly don’t think any?

This is part of a series find the others here:

Bangchan, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin

-🩵

You had come to the practice room to suppose your boyfriend. His birthday was close so you got him a little something knowing he’d be away for his actual day. You had went to knock at the door before you could hear him talking to one of the other members. “Yeah i don’t know man y/n is just so.. clingy at times?” He said trying to find his words. “Sometimes I just feel suffocated by them.” He let out a sigh running his hands through his hair.

“But y/n just loves you Innie and they don’t get to see you as often as most couples would.” The members voice soft. “Yeah I know it’s not like I don’t love them, it’s just when I do have alone time it feels like I have to spend it with them or I feel bad cause of that same fact.” He groaned out “I don’t know I just need space sometimes to relax to clear my head and it’s hard to do that sometimes with them around. I feel like I just gotta keep happy so the days we do have together aren’t waisted on my emotions.”

Your heart thudded his words making you dizzy ‘he feels suffocated by me? Am I really that clingy?’ You said to yourself taking a deep breath in. You turned on your heels about to walk back to your car before you were met by Chan. “Oh hey y/n! Coming to see Innie” he smiled at you. “Uhm yeah..” your voice cracking a bit “just wanted to drop something off to him.” You said Turing back around Chan opening the door following behind you. Jeongin quickly met your gaze he looked almost defeated seeing you.

“Hey babe” he said softly walking towards you “hey I just wanted to drop this off for you since I won’t see you on your birthday.” You said handing him the bag. He smiled softly opening the bag “wow babe you didn’t have to- I can’t believe you remembered I wanted this.” His face lighting up at the jacket he’s had his eye on for months. You took a note on it when he showed you knowing his birthday was coming up. You smiled at him seeing the other members seeing it was Felix.

“Hey y/n we were gonna go get dinner wanna come with?” He said with a smile. You shook your head no “I’m not feeling the best actually, I was just here to drop the gift off.” You gave him a fake smile “thank you though maybe next time.” You kissed jeongins cheeks “I’ll see you later” you said turning on your heals to walk out the door.

He sent you a text as you got into your car “let me know if you need anything babe” you shook your head feeling like you were about to cry. You headed home and the next few days you were almost silent only talking to him if he had messaged you first. The boy wasn’t the brightest at picking up on cues so he didn’t realizing you were distancing yourself.

About a week later he had just gotten back from Japan texting you about him landing.

You didn’t lie you were in bed and you ended up falling asleep. Jeongin was in a panic his heart racing, it felt like it was breaking like all the pieces were scattering trying to find you. He rushed to grab a cab, the ride there he was just a mess. His mind raced thinking of what could have happened then realizing how distant you had been lately.

‘They’re gonna dump me’ he thought making tears prick at the corners of his eyes. ‘No no no no’ he said shaking his head. He got to your place racing for your spare key. He bolted into your house only to see you lying in bed asleep. He softly touched your arms trying to wake you up. Your eyes fluttered open a bit annoyed to be woken up. “Jeongin why are you here?” You said voice scratchy from just waking up.

“I’m here because I’m concerned that.. that you’re gonna break up with me.. that I did something wrong and I..” his voice stuttered as he started to cry. “Talk to me.. please what did I do let me.. I.. let me fix it” he sobbed out. Your heart felt heavy seeing the man crying “Jeongin..” you said reaching out for him. He collapsed into your arms crying harder into your chest.

“Listen.. I heard what you said to Felix.. about feeling suffocated by me.. I’m sorry I just wanted to give you space didn’t wanna be clingy anymore..” you said feeling like you’d start bawling any minute as well. His head shot up “y/n! I- why didn’t you say anything?? That’s been how long? You’ve been carrying that hurt for that long.. I made you hurt for that long?” He sniffled wrapping his arms around you. “I’m sorry I’m so- fucking sorry babe.. please I-“ he sobbed harder into your chest.

“I’m sorry I’ve made you feel that way in the first place jeongin” you said rubbing his head. “Y/n listen our relationship is complicated things are different than normal relationship. So sometimes I need alone time. But” he said clearing his throat wiping his face. “But I love having you around it makes my heart melt just seeing you and you make me feel comfortable” he said looking up at you placing a kiss to your trembling lips. “I wish I had come to you about this I just was afraid of hurting you.” He said softly “but I guess either way I did”

He took your hand “please say something?” He said eyes pleading “your words have been circling in my mind jeongin.. I feel like.. like I need to change myself so I-“ you rambled but he cut you off “no! Do not change yourself. Never change yourself no matter what people say. No matter what I say dumbly. You’re amazing you’re the perfect person never change yourself please babe.” His words spewed out as you felt tears run down your face.

It was your turn to burry your face into his chest to cry “i love you jeongin i just wanna make you happy.” You said through sobs. He rubbed your back pulling you down into the bed wrapping his arms around you tightly humming into your ear to calm you down “I love you (full name) with all my heart you make me the happiest man alive and id never change a single thing about you.” He said pulling your face up to look at him kissing your lips softly.

You both laid there Jeongin started to sing softly as he rubbed your back. “Let’s sleep my love we can talk more in the morning if you want, I’ll even make breakfast.” He said kissing your head. You nodded no through puffy sleepy eyes “ok but how about we go get breakfast, I’d like my place not to burn down.” You both laughed a bit before you fell asleep to jeongins singing.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[afsalovesnikolai]

hi! I am 🏛️, so i would like to request a 18!Dazai and reader, like idk of you do smut, if not then you can ignore, i dont want yall to feel uncomfortable.

Make dazai like veryyyy Horny, and reader just appears at the wrong time (poor them)

If you can do this, thank you, if you feel uncomfortable then i am truly sorry.

Guys he is the litteral def of a slut. also u can interperate their relationship.

Anywho yk the drill, too lazy so ill add banner later, enjoyyyyyy

no but srsly i got so much motivation yaeyyyy

You walk into the living room, ready to relax after a long day. However, the scene before you makes your jaw drop. There's Dazai, sprawled out on the couch, completely naked a white button up which leaves little to the imagination. His lean physique is mostly on full display as he touches himself shamelessly, one hand stroking his impressive length while the other goes under his shirt and he tweaks a nipple.

"Fuck, name." he groans, eyes closed in ecstasy. "I've been thinking about you all day. 'Wanted to feel your tight little body wrapped around my cock." He moans out with eyes squeezed shut. Dazai is too lost in his lustful fantasies to notice your presence yet. His hips buck upwards as he works himself over, panting heavily.

"Gonna fill you up so good," he mumbles deliriously. "Paint your insides white with my cum. You'd like that, wouldn't you? To be marked as mine..." he then lets out a whine as he groans. hes an actual slut!

You stand there completely shocked and suprised as you watch with parted dry lips, trying to stutter out anything but just go red at the sight of him. Hes thinking of you so shamelessly too. Hes out in the open and….gah.

Dazai's eyes flutter open for a second and land on you standing there, mouth agape. For a moment, he seems startled, but then a wolfish grin spreads across his face. "Well hello there, Name. Fancy seeing you here," he flirts, making no move to cover himself, in fact he continues stroking himself as he eyes you.

If anything, his arousal only seems to grow at being caught in such a compromising position. His cock throbs and twitches in his hand, pre-cum beading at the tip. "Like what you see?" Dazai taunts, slowing his strokes to an agonizing pace. "Why don't you come closer and get a better look?" he hums as you glance at his red angry tip.

He spreads his legs wider in invitation, the bulge in his underwear straining obscenely. One hand reaches down to cup himself through the fabric, massaging his heavy balls. "I bet you're curious what it would feel like to wrap your lips around my dick. To taste me on your tongue as I fuck your pretty little-���

“ 'Samu!” you exclaim all red at his words. Then the realization hits, Dazai is a man of his words. He gets what he wants no matter what he has to go through. You sigh as you glance at him, hes giving you a look which you know it’ll be difficult to decline. What a slut.

Dazai's fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts into you with force, his cock stretching you deliciously. Each powerful stroke sends shock waves of pleasure rippling through your body, and you can't help but moan and yelp in ecstasy. The room is filled with the sounds of your combined passion. The slap of skin on skin, the creaking of the couch, and your constant cries of pleasure.

"That's it, Name," Dazai growls, his voice thick with lust. "Take my cock like the good little slut you are. Fuck, you feel incredible." Ironic how you called him a slut not too long before you started sucking him off.

He leans forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as his hips continue their abuse on your poor cunt.. His tongue explores your mouth, tangling with yours in a dance of raw desire. He taste’s himself on your lips and tongue, the flavor driving him crazy. (Slut.)

As Dazai ruts into you, you feel another orgasm building deep within your core. Your body tenses, muscles coiling like a spring about to snap. "Oh god, oh god, I'm gonna cum again!" you cry out as you spasm and hold onto him digging your nails on his pale skin leaving red delicious marks.

After you both are so spent, you try to communicate your exhaustion to Dazai, but he's too far gone in his lust to register your signals. His hips continue their relentless pace, plunging into you over and over again. As he does, you notice his eyes squeezing shut, his face contorted in a mix of pain and pleasure. You both are so overstimulated.

" ‘Samu," you gasp out between labored breaths. "I think we should take a break. I'm... I'm too sensitive." You pant out so so tired.

But your words fall on deaf ears as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "Can't stop," he mumbles, his voice muffled against your flesh. "Need you so fucking bad. Gonna make you mine forever." Shit your going to die in lust with him.

[ultimate-shipper-trash-blog]

What Are You a Cop?

Eddie is drowning his sorrows at the bar. His band didn't get the Saturday spot at 'Damsels' and when he went home to complain about it he caught his boyfriend in bed with someone else.

He feels someone come up behind him and he quickly ducks his head onto the counter, cigarette still in hand.

"Hi! Um I saw you from across the bar- can I buy you a drink?"

"Fuck off," he mumbles into his elbow.

"Are you ok?"

"Fuck off."

"You know...you shouldn't smoke in here."

That makes Eddie's head pop up off the counter. It actually pisses him off to the extreme. Straw that broke the bank etc. He acts in a flash, grabbing the closest drink to him.

"What are you? A cop?" He growls and throws the drink at the voice.

His eyes are blurry and have trouble adjusting to the light. When they do the first thing he notices is the earth-shattering beautiful man in front of him, vodka cran running down his face, and a smirk on his lips.

Wait.

Fuck

The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a police badge.

"How'd you guess?"

"Well-" Eddie's wide eyed and stuttering. "I thought either those handcuffs in your pocket were real or you were excited to see me."

"HA! Oh that's a good one. You're gonna have to come with me."

"Shit."

-------

"Come on officer! Lemme go!!!! I'm sorry ok. I'm so sorry. I was having a crappy night and I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"Mr. Munson, you attacked a police officer, smoked a cigarette indoors, and you're too drunk for me to send home without supervision. One night in the tank is not gonna hurt you. I won't even put this on your record."

"Eddie."

"What?"

"I've heard cops say Mr. Munson enough in my life. Eddie's fine."

"Ok then Eddie, I'm Steve."

"Perfect."

Eddie rambles to Steve for hours until the alcohol starts to hit him a different way and sleep overtakes him.

---

There's a bang on the cell door and Eddie shoots up out of his slumber.

"WHUH"

"Goodmornin Eds, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three."

"Perfect! Let's get you home."

"You're...taking me home?"

"Well I...I want to make sure you're ok. I did enjoy spending time with you I wouldn't mind getting in an extra ten minutes." Steve smiles at him sheepishly.

A small blush grows on Eddie's face.

On the drive back Eddie becomes enamored with Steve. He loves the way he snorts when he laughs, he loves hearing him sing along to Fleetwood Mac, and he loves hearing about the kids he helps through a police program. He forgets all about his cheating boyfriend and knows Steve is all he wants. He feels devastated when the car comes to a stop.

"Well...I guess I'll see you around?"

Panic shoots through Eddie.

"Well I uh, never got that drink from you. Would you like to come in?"

Eddie will never forget the red face and glistening smile on Steve in that moment.

"How about coffee?"

"It's a date."

----

COMMENT 🫵

[writeroutoftime]

hi! could you write carmy berzatto x fem!reader where she’s in her early 20s (not too crazy age gap) and reader is sud’s friend and he just has a crush on her ???? like i just want lovesick carmen so badly 😭

pls and thank u

a/n: sure thing, one lovesick carmy coming right up! (honestly, I was never sure how old carmy was supposed to be. but in my mind he was always somewhere around like 26-28??) also, sorry I hope you don't mind this ended up being in bullet point format, it was just easiest for me to write it that way - though I hope you enjoy!!

oOoOo

“Yo, who’s the new girl?” Richie called out as he watched you walk in behind Syd, pulling everyone's attention towards you.

"This is y/n." Sydney introduced. "She's been my friend for years, and she's offered to help us the restaurant. For free, might I add. So be nice." she finished, staring directly at Richie who simply raised his hands in surrender as a response.

You quietly giggled at the interaction, catching Carmen's attention as he stood in the back, waiting to come forward and introduce himself. He felt frozen in place, watching your smile, the way your eyes scanned the under-construction building with wonder, and the way you were ready to jump in and help.

It had been quite a while since Carmen felt his heart skip the way it did when he looked at you, and he clammed up, ready to turn back and introduce himself later. After he had hours to agonize over what he would say to you.

Unfortunately, fate - or Sydney- had other plans as his business partner steered you into Carmen's path. "And this is the man responsible for all of this chaos." Sydney teased.

"It's nice to meet you, Chef." you smiled gently, reaching out your hand in greeting.

"Oh, no, uh, I mean Carmen." he stuttered out, mentally slapping himself. "What I meant was you don't have to call me Chef, you can just call me Carmen, or Carmy. Really whatever you prefer." he rambled, trying to ignore the way you hand fit so perfectly in his.

"Got it, Chef Carmen Carmy." you giggled, enjoying the slight blush that dusted his cheeks.

And in that moment, Carmy knew he was a goner.

Though you weren't at The Bear every day, Carmy would constantly look towards the door when you weren't there, hoping that each jingle of the bell meant that it was you gracing him with your presence.

The days that you were there, though? Carmy found himself an absolute mess in your presence. Stuttering and stumbling all his words and laughing louder than necessary at any joke you cracked.

But Carmy could also be a little smoother when it came to interacting with you. He quickly learned your coffee (or tea) order and always tried to have it waiting for you when it stopped to get himself one.

But, of course, Carmy tries to get to know you most through food.

"Would you mind trying this dish? Thinking about putting it on the menu." Carmy would ask anytime he made something new for the Bear, you being only the second person to try it (behind Syd).

Carmy would also learn your favorite foods and offer to make it if you had been at The Bear too long and Carmen knew you hadn't eaten.

"Oh, you didn't need to do that, Carmy."

"Really it's no problem, it's the least I can do in exchange for all your help." he'd say, bashfully running a hand through his hair.

Richie, noticing the exchange would call out, "Hey, Cousin, can I get some of that too?" only to get Carmy's middle finger as a response.

Of course, none of this was one-sided and you regularly flirted back with Carmen while helping out. It was just he took it as you being too nice, not believing he had a shot with you - much to your disappointment and everyone else at The Bear.

"Cousin, you gonna ask her out or what?" Richie would finally ask one evening when it was just the two of them left at the restaurant.

"What are you talking about?" Carmen would ask, eyes furrowed, heart beating just a bit faster.

Richie's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "W-what am I talking about? You've been pining over y/n for months, and she's been throwing you all sorts of signals back.

"S-she has?" Carmy asked, voice quiet, though slowly growing excited.

"Yes!" Richie would shout, before walking away, mumbling a "you're hopeless" under his breath.

The next time Carmy saw you, he had made up his mind he was going to ask you out. Even if it just meant the two of you spending some time at the restaurant without everyone else.

He walked up to you talking to Sydney and asked if he could talk to you in the kitchen, alone.

"So, um, I probably should have asked you this weeks ago, but uh, do you maybe want to, I don't know, go out with me?" he rushed out, biting his lip, trying not to run away in fear.

There was a moment of silence before you beamed up at Carmy, nodding your head excitedly. "It's about time, Chef Carmen Carmy." you teased, kissing his cheek before heading back out to Syd, leaving Carmen a smiling, blushing mess.

[panic-at-the-fiction]

The Goblin King

Summary: Halloween in Gryffindors tower with the marauders, you find yourself face to face with your crush dressed as your fictional crush and it’s too hot to handle.

Tags: Fluff, fun, maybe tini tiny suggestive, goofy ass Sirius black, reader x Remus Lupin, but of fun flirting.

Halloween, a fun time of year, but a dangerous one you were coming to find out. Gryffindor's usual rager was in full swing as you joined the party decked out in your zombie bride costume.

“Hi James,” you smiled, greeting him from underneath his costume, which was just a white sheet with holes cut out for eyes.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Lucky guess, where’s your other halves?”

“Well Sirius is getting drinks, he’s already relatively drunk, Peter is over by the couches and Remus is still upstairs.”

“Is he coming down here any time soon?”

“Yeah I'm sure he is, you know him though he insisted on finishing his classwork first.”

“You act like that's unreasonable,” you laugh.

“(Y/n)!” You hear Sirius shout from behind you as he slings his arm over your shoulder. He had on a pretty elaborate Dracula costume with white face paint, fake blood and a dark cape.

“Oh I got you so good, your face is gonna be priceless. Here take this, you’ll need it.” He slings a drink in your hand, nearly spilling it on you in the process.

“What am I so unprepared for Sirius that I need a drink?”

“Oh you’ll see when moony gets down here.” He let out a feral laugh

You shook your head and laughed as you took a sip of the drink he handed you. At times like this it’s best to just let Sirius be Sirius and not stress yourself out.

James stretched his hand under his sheet and pointed behind you. “Look he's coming down now.”

Sirius jumped off you in excitement, you simply laughed taking a swig of your drink as you turned around to see what all the fuss was about.

Tall, very handsome, smart, sarcastic, handsome (have you said handsome yet?) Remus Lupin was coming down the stairs from the Gryffindor dorms dressed as the one and only Goblin King, tight pants and all.

You began to cough and choke on your drink you had just taken a sip of and just in your peripheral you could see a flash as Sirius took your photo.

“Hey (y/n) are you ok?” Remus said coming to your side from the stairs.

You waved him off and turned around to get a hold of yourself. Once you stopped coughing you downed the rest of your drink and handed it off to James before facing Remus again.

You thought you had a grip on yourself, but you stared for a moment as you felt your mouth go agape and your eye get lost in the site in front of you.

“(y/n) are you ok?” He asked again

You snapped out of it as Sirius pushed in front of you to take your photo once more.

“Give me that.” You attempted to grab his stupid camera from him, but he dodged you and ran away.

“Thank me later!” He shouted as he jumped over the couches

“Sorry about him, I don’t know what he's on.” Remus shook his head.

“Yeah me either.” You lied through your teeth. You knew, Sirius knew, pretty much anyone in the room with eyes probably knew. But you had not too long ago confessed to Sirius your crush on David Bowie’s portrayal of the goblin king, and of course, he long since knew you had a crush on Remus.

“You seemed spaced out.” Remus said, drawing your focus to him and away from his costume. It was hard not to stare as your mind raced off with unfriendly thoughts.

“Sorry, I’m just… I um,” You could feel your face heat up as you stuttered, “I um... Like your costume.”

“Thank you, I wasn’t fully committed to it, but Sirius convinced me to go all out.”

“Of course he did.” You laughed moving your eyes to anything else in the room than the man in front of you.

“(Y/n)?”

“Hmm,” you tried to remain oblivious to him as you continued to look anywhere but at him.

“(y/n),” This time his hand came up to your chin and forced your eyes to meet his. “Am I making you nervous?” He laughed a little as he looked down at you with a knowing grin. Damn him, you could just melt.

“No” You stuttered out trying to look away again.

“Oh my god, you like the goblin king don't you?”

“What, no, shut up” You laughed covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.

“Hold on, no judgment from me sweetheart. Sirius told me long ago about it.” He pulled your wrist away from your face and kissed your palm. “If it helps I’m only teasing, you make me nervous every day I’m just returning the favor.” Now you were really melting.

“I make you nervous.” You looked up at him through your lashes, and he softly rubbed your wrists

“All the time.”

When did the room get this hot?

“I know I just got here, but do you wanna get out of here?”

Your mouth hung in disbelief, how did you get to this moment?

“Yes.”

Remus smiled, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the crowd back towards the entrance as you both dove out into the hallway giggling as you went.

[hoshifighting]

HELP ME!!OMFG GGJFHC OKAY SO I GOT THIS ONE THOUGHT IN MY HEAD SEEING THAT I READ YOUR WONWOO AND JOSHUA THREESOME!!! (WHICH BTW IS REALLY FUCKING GOOD ) BUT AT THE PART WHERE IT SAID THAT JOSHUA AND WONWOO WAS BOTH REALLY CLOSE TO CUMMING I HAD THIS VISION WHERE JOSH IS FUCKING YOU AND HE IS SO SO SO CLOSE TO CUMMIN AND IS SO WHINY ABOUT IT LIKE A WHIMPERING MOANING MESS (I LOVE WHINY BABYBOY JOSH) SO YEAH SEEING THAT YOU'RE A REALLY GOOD WRITER MY FIRST THOUGHT WAS TO ASK YOU BECAUSE YOU WOULD SEE MY VISION AND BRING IT TO LIFE ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS MAKE HIM SUPER DESPERATE AND WHINY AND BASICALLY A MOANING MESS

And oh BTW are you bi (just asking for a friend)

warnings: smut, babyboy whining mess!joshua.

a/n: yes i am, bi pride all day, hope your friend is happy dsoiasdhishd 🙃

hmm moaning mess joshua that you definitely CANT fuck with in public because of his loud ass? FUCK YES! like, the man does not know how to be quiet, and honestly, you kind of love it. there’s been so many times you’ve had to cover his mouth or beg him to keep it down because the walls in your place are way too thin, and your neighbors? yeah, they’ve had enough of his 1 a.m. symphonies. but the second you tell him to shush, he gets all flustered, blushing like crazy, mumbling, “sorry, baby, i’ll try,” but it never lasts. like, two seconds later, and he’s right back to being a whimpering mess, burying his face in your neck, trying and failing to keep it together.

and the thing is, you’d think he’d be the shy one, right? but nah. he loves the idea of getting caught, even though he’s always so embarrassed after, stuttering through his apologies when someone hears you two. you’re touching him, teasing him just a little, and he’s already making those soft little noises, all breathy, like he can’t even help himself.

you remember one time, exactly 3 a.m., because you were wide awake, trying to calm him down. your neighbor had already banged on the wall twice, and you were trying to be good, keep things low-key. but joshua? nah. you were barely touching him, just running your hand down his chest, and he was already gasping, hips jerking up into your touch like he was starving for it. and you had to be like, “josh, you gotta be quiet, seriously,” but he was biting his lip so hard, trying to keep it together, and failing so bad. he just looked up at you, all wide-eyed, breathing like he’d just run a marathon, and whispered, “i’m sorry, i just— i can’t help it.” and then boom, he’s back to moaning into your neck, trying to muffle the sounds but doing a terrible job at it. like, you swear he wants to be caught sometimes. his hands are gripping the sheets so hard, his body trembling, and every little thing you do makes him fall apart even more. you’re barely even teasing him, but every time your hand slides lower, he’s whimpering, like actually whimpering, all desperate and needy.

he tries, he really does, but the moment your lips brush his collarbone or you move a little too fast, it’s over. and public? god. he’s a nightmare in public, but the best kind of nightmare. like, it’s a thrill for him, but he’s so bad at keeping quiet. you’d be out, somewhere so normal like the back of a car, and he’s already panting, eyes darting around like someone’s gonna catch you two, but you know he loves it. he’ll try to hide his face, but the moment your hand slips under his shirt, just a little, you’ve got him trembling again. his breathing’s all erratic, and you can feel him trying to hold back, but it’s not happening. and you’re teasing him, whispering, “u really can’t stay quiet baby?” and he’s just shaking his head, a soft little whine escaping his lips before he finally loses it. it’s always the same—he starts out all shy, biting his lip, cheeks burning red, whispering “i’ll be good, i’ll be quiet,” but it never lasts. you press just the right button, and suddenly, he’s a wreck, moaning so loud you’re half-worried someone’s gonna hear. but at the same time? you love it. you love how he can’t help himself, how he’s so lost in it that he forgets where you even are.

you remember that one time in the kitchen, it was early in the morning, like, nobody should’ve been awake, but there you were, kissing him against the counter. and you weren’t even doing much, just running your hands under his shirt, feeling his abs tense under your touch, when he let out this softest, neediest sound. and you had to stop, look at him, like, “seriously? here?” and he just nodded.

you were trying to be nice, trying to keep it slow, but the more you touched him, the louder he got. “you gotta be quiet,” you said, but he just whimpered, nodding, trying to bite his lip again but failing. and every time your hand moved lower, you could feel the tension in him, the way his body was practically begging for more. he was trying so hard to keep it together. and then it happened—he let out this loud, shaky moan, and you had to cover his mouth with your hand, whispering, “joshua, seriously, someone’s gonna hear.” but he just groaned into your palm, eyes screwed shut, hips bucking up into your touch. and honestly? you love that about him. that no matter how much he tries to be quiet, he just can’t. you’re the only one who can turn him into that moaning mess, into someone who’s so lost in you that nothing else matters.

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝ NAUGHTY GIRL. ❞

— minors dni, gojo x afab! reader, they’re both sassy, poly! stsgverse, he plays w/ your tits, sequel to “YOU LITTLE THIEF!”

A cool breeze awaits as you burst into mostly darkness. There’s a few headlights in the parking lot, other patrons coming or going. Glancing back, you catch sight of Gojo nearing the shoe rack. You curse his longer legs, and the color of Geto’s car which blends into the pitch blackness outside. You decide to run in the vague direction of where he parked, hoping it yields results that aren’t Gojo immediately catching up to you. Hopefully people don’t find you too suspicious, the way you’re ducking and weaving through cars to stay out of sight. Gojo’s nowhere to be found whenever you peep back to spot him. It raises the hairs on your arms, makes things a lot more suspenseful as if you’re trying to avoid some kind of knife-wielding murderer in a horror movie.

You finally spot Geto’s car, close to the back of the lot, and dive behind it so you’re next to the driver’s side door. Catching your breath takes a few seconds — you’re lucky his alarm isn’t activated to give you away. Approaching footsteps raise your heart rate, but it’s just some gaggle of teenagers walking by. Or a young a couple on their way inside. Not yet a white-haired man looking to do you harm (take his phone back).

Quietly, or as quietly as you can on gravel, you lift yourself up to peek through Geto’s dark, tinted windows. Despite being akin to a lighthouse tower, Gojo is nowhere to be spotted. It dawns on you that he might also be using cars as refuge. Perhaps if you looked underneath, you’d be able to spot him? Alright, let’s see, you think, lowering and regretting the idea as soon as your knees meet harsh rock. You look back, forth, back again. Nothing. What in the hell…?, you rise back to your feet, not noticing the looming, dark shadow approaching with abnormally quiet steps. Where the fuck did he go?

“Gotcha!” And Gojo muffles your terrified shriek with a large hand, other hand on your waist to pin you to the black car. “Aww, were you lookin’ for me down there, gorgeous?”

Brows drawn together, you inspect the place behind him, too concerned with how in the world he got behind you. He lets you strip his hand from your face to question him. “Where did you come from?”

Gojo grins, tilts his head a little to the side. “Can’t go around revealing my secrets now, can I?”

He takes delight in your unamused look, and your scoff. “What are you, a magician?”

“Nope, but you are. So make my phone appear, right now.”

“Or what? Are you gonna pat me down, Mr. TSA?”

Regret, immediately, as he rolls his eyes in thought. “Actually. Yeah, I am!”

You watch as Gojo pats your arms, waist, legs, one bold pat on your behind, before patting at your shoes. “You think your phone could fit in there?”

He looks up, and the sight of Gojo on his knees before you kind of makes you feel powerful. Like a deity. “I have to be thorough.” He pats you a little harder on the way back up, avoiding your chest, and pouts when he still finds nothing. “The hell? Where is it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Brat, he thinks. Gojo’s hands squeeze over your waist, pressing you against the car again. He leans over you until your foreheads are almost touching. “Give it here. Crook.”

That only prompts your giggle in response, e/c eyes never leaving the blues of his. Your hands fiddle with the edge of Gojo’s shirt, and he opens his mouth for another word before there’s a vibration from your chest.

Both pairs of eyes flicker to the faint glow beneath your shirt, and the bravado plummets from your face. “O-oh…”

He looks back up to grin at you. “Found it. I’ll be taking it back now.”

Before you can complain, Gojo slips a hand beneath your top, working his way up until it rests atop your bra, where he finds his phone half-tucked inside. Your breath stutters when his fingers slip underneath, smoothing over your nipple as he pinches the phone and tugs it downward. His other hand glides upwards to take it, and Gojo slips the phone in his pocket, but leaves one hand resting against your bare breast.

“Naughty girl.,” he scolds, thumbing over the stiffening bud. “Why was it in there huh? Did you plan this out?”

You fumble for a response. “I–, no–“

“Because,” a roll of your nipple has you arching into Gojo, where he wraps an arm around your waist. “You could’ve just asked, if you wanted me touch you. Use your words next time, baby.”

His lips make a home on your skin, placing gentle kisses along your neck, jawline, cheeks. It drives a series of mewls and whimpers from you, causes your thighs to clench together around his leg. “G–et off m-me, I’m going back ins-side.”

“Tryna run away again?,” Gojo mocks you, nipping at the sensitive part of your neck. “Cute. Sure, we can go back inside.” He gives a hard suck on the skin, sure to leave a mark, before pulling away to catch your hazy eyes. “You gonna behave for me?”

Even though Gojo can see right through you, needily panting and pushing your chest further into his palm, you still choose to be a little difficult. “Behave? Like some puppy—“

You yelp, him having tugged at your nipple, pinching it between his fingers. “Yep, like my good girl. Play nice, no more stealing or it’s wraps, got it?”

There’s an underlying threat in his statement, one that prods at your curiosity. But you decide to play along for now. “Fine.”

He gives your face another kiss, close to your lips. “Don’t like the way you said it. Again, with less attitude.”

“I didn’t have an attitude.”

“Well, you definitely have one now, so do it again.”

You roll your eyes, catching his expectant stare. His hand twitches at the bat of your lashes, the jut of your lip, eyes widening in an adorable pout. “I’ll be such a good girl for you, Satoru.” The way you purr his name is like gold in his ears. Gojo can feel a throbbing within his pants, but his hands retreat for now to leave you be. You’ll be sure to act up again, and he’s gonna let you have it when you do.

tagz: @staryukis @anthoosies

[schoenpepper]

Heartslabyul Heartaches: Clover

Intro: Heartslabyul is sick and tired of its own vice housewarden (except for Deuce, he really doesn't know what's going on).

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread, pining

A/N: This almost took me out, I think Trey's gonna be on my ban list for a while. But I hope you like it, anon.

Masterlist

Oh. Oh that's...rather painful to watch, actually. What was it the kids said nowadays? Yikes?

Riddle thinks it's rather vomit inducing, if nothing else. The way you and Trey tiptoe around each other, somehow acting like an old married couple and a pair of first graders just experiencing puppy love at the same time. An impressive contradiction, if he were to be honest. He didn't think it could exist at first, but you and the green haired boy just happened to be living proof. He takes another sip of tea and sends another confused glare in your direction.

"This is so good! You're so talented, Trey." The way you put your hand on Trey's arm (Riddle would say subtly but it was not subtle at all) was so horribly flirtatious it almost makes Riddle spit out his tea. There was no rule on PDA in the Queen's rulebook, however, so he endures and stabs a strawberry with his fork instead of stabbing it through either of you. Trey blushes, hearts almost visibly forming in his eyes as he leans towards you with the plate of bite-sized tarts. "No, it was because you helped me make them that they taste so good."

Riddle's brows furrow in mild disgust.

"You should eat some too!" He watches numbly when you pick up a tart and hand feed it to his second in command. More blushing, more stuttering, but eventually, Trey manages to eat the thing with a giddy smile.

(May he collar Trey? Or you? Genuine question.)

The tea party wraps up and Trey is finally back to full working condition because of your absence (thank you for leaving). Riddle supervises the cleanup with Trey next to him, clipboard in hand. "So," Riddle sighs, "when will you be confessing to Y/N? I assume it must be soon, given your lack of propriety in a public space."

"Confessing? I don't see them that way."

He looks at Trey, both hands on his scepter because one half of him wants to use it to hit the man over the head and the other half wants to use it to hit the man in the stomach. Trey's face is a beautiful shade of 'lying lying liar who lies' pink, and he's avoiding Riddle's gaze with a sheepish grin. "Is that so?" Riddle asks dryly.

"There's...a lot of other people out there."

"What about it?"

"There's a lot of other people who can treat them better, love them better, than I can."

Riddle settles for whacking the scepter onto Trey's shoulder before leaving with a dignified huff. "Spineless, completely unworthy of the Queen of Hearts." He hears Trey laughing behind him.

Gross. Super gross.

"Yo, Trey, are you like, actually blushing and swooning and kicking your feet?" Cater laughs, watching Trey fumble to hide his phone. He'd already seen the image his friend had been staring at before, though, so it's not too hard to imagine why the other was acting like a schoolgirl (it's still stupid to watch).

"I am not."

Right. Cater doesn't have the mental capability to debate on whether or not Trey was giggling. Not when the words on his textbook are building a rollercoaster track in front of his eyes and setting up to ride it. "Whatevs. How did you get the answer for question 3?"

He looks up to see Trey sneaking a peek at his phone again.

"OMG, usually I'm the phone addict but this is like, insane." Cater dives over the table and steals the other man's phone, "You're staring at a text draft asking Y/N to hang out tomorrow? No, I don't think so, and send. There." He hands it back to Trey.

"What did you do that for?"

"So I can finally get my study buddy back, duh. It's like, literally painful to see you spending literal minutes just thinking on whether or not to invite Y/N to hang out. That's lame."

Trey sighs in exasperation. "So you did it for me."

"Obvi! Because I'm like, such a good friend."

Ace might throw up on the grass, or he might mistake his senpai's hair for it and throw up all over him. Fifty fifty, really. He watches you run across the field with Grim, passing a Spelldrive disc between the two of you as your laughter rang through the air. He glances at Trey to find him wistfully sighing like some medieval maiden.

When the disc comes hurtling in his direction because of a certain kitty cat, he finds himself embracing peace, and perhaps with his departure from this world, heaven would embrace him—

“Oh no! Trey senpai, are you okay?”

Ace opens his eyes again. He was pretty sure the disc was headed straight for his handsome face so…why is his toothbrush loving upperclassman now lying on a heap on the ground right in front of him?

Did he seriously dive in front of Ace to get injured? On purpose?

You run over worriedly and kneel over next to Trey, Ace watching on expressionlessly. A large red bump is swelling on his senior’s forehead, which you gently check with your hand. “I’m so sorry, I’ll help you get to the infirmary, okay?”

Ace swears he can see the slightest hint of a smirk on Trey’s face.

“Don’t you have history next period? I’ll help him,” Ace enjoys the panicked expression on the ‘patient’, but then he also sees your features morph into something like ‘don’t you dare take this away from me’, so he backs off. You…match each other’s freaks, apparently, so he takes a step back and grabs Grim from the field.

��Nya, why are you taking me from my hench human?!”

“Shh, your parents are flirting so I’ll take up babysitting duty,” Ace rolls his eyes, “They’re both pathetic.”

“Order. The first meeting shall now commence.”

Riddle strikes a wooden gavel (where did he get that?) and Deuce sits still because his confusion has yet to fade and really, he still has absolutely no idea why he, Ace, Riddle and Cater are sitting around a table with tea and snacks laid out in front of them. This couldn’t be a dorm meeting considering the rest of the dorm members, and even the vice house warden, are absent. “Uh, dorm leader,” Deuce speaks up nervously, “did Ace do something wrong again?”

“What? Why does it have to be me?!”

“It’s always you.”

“Lmao, y’all gotta calm down,” Cater laughs, “the topic of the day isn’t you or Ace. It’s Trey!”

Deuce blinks. “Is something wrong with Trey senpai?”

“He’s gross.”

“He’s cringe.”

“He’s a coward.”

The answers don’t actually answer his question, but he doesn’t think it’s a good idea to say anything else. Riddle looks tired, Ace looks genuinely disgusted, and Cater is staring into the void with what he can only describe as an old man sigh. He’s not the smartest person to have ever existed, but he knows enough that he probably shouldn’t be saying anything else at the moment. His housewarden strikes the gavel again. “Attention, we have gathered here today in an attempt to brainstorm ideas. Does anyone know how we should get Trey and Y/N to finally get together?”

“Lock them in a closet 7 minutes in heaven style~”

“Slip truth serum into their drinks.”

“Y/N and Trey senpai like each other?”

The other three give Deuce an exasperated look.

…He probably should’ve kept his mouth shut.

Trey looks at his reflection in the mirror. Pristine, crisp—he needs to look perfect, if only for you. He makes his way to the entrance of the rose maze with a large bouquet of red roses in hand. It’s a bad idea. Really, you might not even show up. His friends and dormmates have good intentions, sure, but whoever said good intentions meant good results? Now he’d been wrangled in a pure white tuxedo and in the gazebo that laid in the middle of the maze is a spread of pastries and the most expensive tea they had in the kitchen. And he’s ready to finally, finally confess, instead of hiding away and going back to his imaginations. In his fantasies, you’d smile and hold his hand and laugh with him, and he…

If you don’t allow him to even be your friend anymore after this, would his fantasies suffice?

No.

But, if the impossible happens, and you like him too, then maybe his fantasies would come to life. Maybe one day, he’ll be waking up in your arms instead of waking up from dreaming about you. But as Riddle said, the possibility ceases to exist if he doesn’t take the steps to make it happen.

You arrive.

And like every other time he’d seen you and breathed you in, he’s stunned.

You’re just so beautiful, in a way that his mind struggles to describe.

(He loves you, he loves you, he loves you until it hurts, he loves you until it’s deadly, he’ll love you until time stops, until that love consumes him from the inside out, Trey Clover will love you until he forgets what love is and remembers only you and how you make his heart beat.)

You accept his flowers.

You accept his heart as he lays it bare in front of you.

“You’re, stop—stop using me as an armrest!”

“Ehh, Riddle if you’re so loud they’ll hear nya~”

“You can peek perfectly fine without pushing me down!”

“I can, but that’s not fun!”

Chenya looks through the bakery window to catch a glimpse of the blushing couple. Trey, flustered and proud as he introduces you to his parents, and you happily chatting with them, nodding along as you accepted the pastries they were stacking up in your arms. “Let me go, I need to go back home.” Riddle seethes quietly.

“Mya, it’s not like you wanna go home, so why don’t we stay and watch Trey fumble? It’s funny.”

The redhead purses his lips, hesitates, and eventually peeks into the window next to Chenya. “If we get caught, it’s your fault and I’m just a victim.”

[nininikki]

delicates — s. gojo

content warnings: perv!gojo, fwb!gojo, panty-stealing, panty-sniffing, jerking off with said panties, increasingly mild jealousy, male masturbation

author’s note: some horny desperate gojo to perk those holiday spirits. love y’all 💋🫶🏽🤍

“satoru, have you seen my pink panties?”

he had barely gotten the phone up to his ear before nearly exclaiming, “your what?” through the dwindling cell phone static, gojo could hear the frantic zipping and unzipping of suitcases, opening and closing of drawers, and the stress in not only your breathing, but your question: have you seen my pink panties?

at the words, “pink panties”, bells begin to sound in satoru’s head. they’re tiny, lacy, and cotton candy pink almost all around, apart from the hem, which is decorated with a little white bow. the first time you’d worn them, they’d proved to be an issue for satoru’s restraint. much too pretty to ruin by tearing off your legs, but still a hindrance to him in the animal-like mood he was in. he could recall you gasping as he moved the thin material to the side so he could curl the tip of his tongue up against your clit for the first time of many that night.

“oh, nothing. forget i asked.” it was more than obvious you were stressing yourself to hell and back over the imminent (and very mandatory) conference trip to new orleans. it’s evident now, and it was more than evident about a week ago when you invited satoru over to your place with the intention of letting him ease the worry away. and he did, one salacious orgasm at a time.

crackly phone static sobers gojo instantly, and he’s back with you—present day you—and your current dilemma. “but, still,” he hears you defeatedly slump into the cushiony spring of your mattress. “where’d they go so fast?”

your new question makes him sit up in his bed. “well, uh,” gojo hardly stuttered, but you managed to catch him at an impossibly bad time. “when’d you see ‘em last?”

“they were in a stack of laundry on my dresser, i swear.” like magic, satoru’s mind conjures an image of what you might look like on the other end of the phone. lying across your bed, perhaps twirling a lock of hair up and down your finger or fidgeting with the golden initial necklace that always hung so delicately around your throat. he imagines a cartoonishly big question mark floating above your head as you work the plushness of your bottom lip between your teeth. the mental sight was a pretty one, albeit rather funny.

you resume your recant with, “then, just like that, poof! gone.” a sigh passed between your lips. “i mean, what am i gonna do now? i wanted to bring those with me.”

“those?” satoru hesitantly flicks his bedside lamp on now, hoping seeing will help him understand. “on a work trip?”

you sighed again, this time exasperated. “oh, please. it’s new orleans. did you think i was a nun or something?”

“whatever,” with a blink of his eyes, he tried to brush away the nagging, envious feeling that tugged at his navel and nearly led him to nausea, but it wasn’t at all that simple. “why’d you call me, anyway?” were you calling all your recent lovers and alerting them to be on the lookout for a pair of frilly pink underwear? the thought of it was funny only before satoru fully registered the idea of you having any other lover that was not him.

“well, i just thought that maybe…” your words trailed off in a way that indicated you’d lost them on purpose. your acrylics could be heard nervously clicking together on the other end.

gojo scoffs with the incredulity of a completely innocent man. “what, you think i’m the panty thief?” at the sound of air sucking between your teeth, and otherwise dreadful silence, he wants to roll his eyes. “i can’t believe you. you ever stop to think it was your freaky ass housekeeper?”

a sharp gasp crackles through the receiver. “rosmerta would never!”

“yeah, yeah. just call me when you think better of me.”

“then i guess i won’t be calling for a very long time.” you say, and a stiff dial tone fills gojo’s ears.

his conversation with you should’ve sobered him up completely. he should’ve been shamed into flicking his lamp off and falling asleep (even though he couldn’t if he wanted to). but hearing your voice only fueled his fire further. all day, your panties had burned a titillating hole in the top drawer of his dresser, and he’d had more than enough of denying himself.

when the sun sank beneath the clouds and it was finally dark enough to abate any oncoming feelings of guilt—although, there was a shamefully small amount of it—satoru had your pretty pink underwear splayed out over his lap, teasing it over the growing bulge in his pants.

he had felt like such a perv when he plucked them off your dresser’s tower of laundry and stashed them within his pocket. and he’d felt like even more of a perv when he kissed you out of your early morning slumber to tell you he was on the way out. “gotta go, baby. early shift today.” satoru whispered into your soft skin.

immediately, you’d attempted to rise from the comfort of your bed. “i’ll walk you out,” you yawned.

smoothing a hand over your cheek, satoru’s eyes softened at the sleepy tenderness in yours, and he’d wanted to collapse back into the mattress without a second thought. “no, you stay here and rest, alright.” but he simply could not bring himself to rest alongside you with such a dirty secret in his pocket.

and so now here he was, touching himself through his underwear like a virgin schoolboy as he brushed the fabric over his nose. the wholly clean scent of them couldn’t have stopped him from envisioning all the times you may have gotten them a mess with the slickness of your arousal.

you were wearing a dress that first time satoru had fucked you in these. and you weren’t shy at all about letting him bend you over the edge of your bed and push the skirt up over your hips. he was practically salivating at the sight: the thick globes of your ass on perfect display for his starving hands, and the damp plumpness of your cunt on perfect display for his starving mouth. thin ribbons of arousal had dripped their way down your labia and come to a head at the bulbous tip of your clit, while of course staining the almost transparent material in its wake.

the memory makes gojo abandon all efforts of teasing, and he’s letting his cock spring free from his underwear. he lets the angry mushroom tip graze against the crotch area of the thong, precisely where your slit would be. if he closed his eyes for long enough, he could imagine he was doing just that—rubbing himself up against your leaking slit until you were weak with pleas.

when his eyes flutter open the tiniest bit, he could see a fresh bead of precum dotting the material. “so good,” he murmured as he remembered how easily your chubby cunt swallowed up the fabric. your eyes, lidded and framed by fluffy lashes, sat teary and reddened in your head.

satoru had grown fond of how worked up you tended to get when teased. your manicured hands had cupped over the round peaks of your ass, spreading yourself apart with the hope of being filled. “please,” you had whimpered, and he couldn’t help himself at sight of your slick soaked lips virtually calling out to him. relief filled your eyes as he pushed the dainty cloth to the side, and then ran an impatient finger tantalizingly down your slit.

fresh saliva filled the underside of his mouth almost immediately, haunted by the memory of your slick bursting over his tongue in all the best and worst ways. there was no way gojo would be able to stomach the idea of another man peeling these off your skin just as he had that night. could he get you as loud for him as you were for satoru? could he tease the head of his cock over your hungry entrance until you were practically dying for it? could he spring your pretty eyes with tears after every thrust? gojo didn’t think so.

dampening the palm of his hand with a pearl of spit, gojo began sliding it up and down his length, murmuring small curses to himself as the picture of you bled through his mind. “so fuckin’ nasty.” he grunted when he remembered how you’d always time the movements of your hips perfectly to match his thrusts and fuck him back. “am i doin’ a good job, daddy?” you would look back at him and ask, smearing your juices over his pelvis with the increasingly weakening pushes of your hips.

“makin’ daddy so proud.” satoru hummed to himself, tightening his grip just over the head of his dick and imagining the very same hold your pussy seemed to have on him.

“i’m gonna cum,” you would tearfully whisper, just a split second before your body collapsed under the weight of the pleasure your lover was inflicting on you. usually immediately after, gojo’s release would follow upon him seeing the fervent manner in which your pussy spasmed around his cock as it drooled out thick rivulets of milky finish.

satoru felt himself twitch, inching closer and closer toward his own release as he teased the flimsy garment to and fro over his cock. but it just wasn’t enough.

in an act of utter desperation, or perhaps madness, he brought your panties up to his face and allowed his nose to brush up against the crotch. he was almost ashamed of the shiver that coursed down his spine. although the smell was relatively harmless, the mere idea of suffocating in you worked his nerves without relent.

“please,” gojo begged no one in particular. if he could, he would hold you against his face forever, smothering himself in the warmth of your skin until he was one with you. if he could, he would be en route to your apartment this instant to tell you the truth. “i love you.”

with a choked whimper that followed his untimely confession, satoru slipped over edge and into the blissful abyss of orgasm. the tugs on his cock became haphazard and sloppy with the gradual spurts of cum oozing from the head of his dick. it wasn’t until he opened his eyes and removed the rose colored panties from his face did he realize the gravity of what he had admitted. he loved you.

[ghost-proofbaby]

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

HOUR EIGHTEEN

in which eddie shows you deftones, texts are missed and calls are answered, and lines are crossed once more for good measure.

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

→ warnings: strong language, light dry humping?, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 4k+

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

18:00 ─────────────ㅇ── 24:00

Steve-O: rise and shine, campers! time to get back at it with these wellness checks. gonna need some proof you two are still alive.

HOUR EIGHTEEN - 9:00 AM 

Eddie’s eyes narrow in concentration at your phone as his thumbs fly across the screen, navigating the Spotify app with ease to find the Deftones song he specifically wants. He doesn’t do as you had and go to their artist page – he searches with purpose, in no mood to scroll through albums to find the song he’s looking for. 

“I still don’t understand how you can type so fast,” you mumble, watching with fascination that you try to tamper down with faux boredom, “Even I can’t type that fast, and I own the damn thing.” 

He doesn’t even glance up as he scrolls along the screen, finding the song and clicking on it, “I’m just good with my fingers.” 

There it goes. The air from your lungs, once again vacating the premises as he freezes beside you. 

It isn’t fair. An internal whine that nearly works itself up your throat and out your mouth, making you want to stomp your feet like a child. You hadn’t even recovered from the casual drop of baby yet. And now he’s going to just say that? 

“Oh, God, I-” he’s looking up finally, eyes wide and stuttering with embarrassment, “Fuck, I swear to God, I did not mean that as an innuendo.” 

You open your mouth. You close it. You repeat the process. You’re fucking speechless and it’s a little bit embarrassing. 

“I’m serious!” he persists when you don’t reply, and only stare at him in continued shock, “Seriously! I- Fuck, I was referring to with my job. At the autoshop. I’m- Fuck,” he cuts his explanation off, dragging a hand over his face and falling back into the couch, “Kill me. Kill me now, please – and be sure to make it quick and painless, pretty please.” 

You finally laugh. It’s a bit choked, a bit strangled, but it instantly has Eddie lowering his hand. 

“I think if we were going to kill each other, Munson, it would have happened hours ago,” you try to tease him, but something about the sentiment comes out far softer than you intended. Like it’s not a joke. Like, in your own odd way, you’re trying to whisper a truth to him – everything has changed for me now. 

“Probably,” he sighs, relaxing a bit and leaning back beside you as he looks to the phone once more and clicks on a song, “Proba-fucking-ly.” 

For the first two songs, there is a distance to be kept between the two of you. You peek at the screen and catch the titles – Cherry Waves and Sextape – and make a mental categorization of which one you enjoy more. You nearly audibly snort at Sextape, but manage to keep your immature humor to yourself. You prefer Cherry Waves, anyways. 

  The songs that follow become a bit of a blur. Because for the first two, the distance existed. You can focus on the guitar and the vocals and the bass drum and everything except the man sitting beside you. But then song three comes on. 

Fucking song three. You don’t catch the name, but it might be your favorite yet. Or you might be biased. 

Because it’s during this third song that something changes. Eddie is no longer content in just leaning back beside you, in letting you consume the new music in a sort of solitude that was impressive to achieve when not actually alone. You first notice his restlessness in the bounce of his knee, shaking beside yours as he finally puts the phone down on the coffee table rather than balanced on his thigh. You don’t comment on it, you let it slide. You faux indifference. But then, the flexing of his hand starts.

It’s odd. Sure, plenty of people mess with their hands in relation to nerves, but you’ve never seen it happen like that before. The slow stretch of him pushing his fingers to their limits before retracting them, bending his knuckles as he tucks the tips in. The veins along the top of his hand popping exceptionally. 

“I’m just good with my fingers.”

I fucking bet he is. 

You curse yourself for the warmth that burns in the pit of your stomach. Focus. You should be focusing on the music, on taking in what he’s sharing with you. 

Not on his hands. Specifically his fingers, and how good they’d feel-

Fucking stop it. Cut it out. No. 

It takes an ungodly amount of willpower for you to look away, but you manage it. Unfortunately, what you don’t manage to do is ignore the bouncing of his leg. You don’t manage to extinguish that burning that he’s begun in you — a fire started from his kindle. 

Impulsive. Impulsive, and a little stupid, and endlessly daring. That’s what it is when you finally reach out a hand to land on his knee midsong. 

The shaking immediately ceases, and you take over the soothing motions as you let your thumb initially rub in arcs against the side of his thigh. With each strum of the guitar that rings out, you let your thumb complete its semicircle motion. With each pounding of drums, you give a gentle squeeze. He doesn’t say a word about it, and neither do you. Especially when he drops his hand over yours, wiggling his fingers between yours with the failure of a casual grace. You try not to smile as you flip your hand and let him properly intertwine them.

Flexing, but this time, it’s to squeeze your palm to his. You still think about those goddamn fingers.

“So, what do you think so far?” Eddie asks after he clears his throat.

“They’re good,” you nod, finding yourself shuffling subconsciously closer to him now that he’s gripping onto your hand, “Really good.” 

“I’m just good with my fingers.”

You know that he’s more than just good. Just like Deftones, you’d dare say he’s really good. 

The song switches, and both of you have scooted close enough to one another that your thighs press together. Shoulder to shoulder, sharing enough space to feel his breath on the side of your bare neck. 

His grip on your hand tightens.

You want the opposite. You suddenly want his hand to detach from yours and to find home on your cheeks, hands on either side of your face before he’s pulling you into him, throwing caution and formality to the wind. You two have already crossed that line; why was it so hard to take that leap once more? 

The song is still playing. You don’t recognize the tinny guitars that are on the loop of repeating the same notes, an echo effect of sorts layered over them. 

It’s just the guitar. And suddenly, the rasps of Eddie’s breaths are something your acutely aware of. Like he’s closer, like he’s letting his head tilt even closer to you. You feel that heat transferring between your biceps that are smashed together, not even thin layers of t-shirt or the sleeve of the crew neck able to stop it. 

It all happens suddenly.

The guitar pauses and Eddie’s hand loosens in yours. Your heart races, and you realize you’re preparing yourself for what he’s doing before he’s even sprung into action. 

Kiss me, the sigh you let out whispers.

It’s answered by the song, and by Eddie. A combination of the two that you can’t differentiate. 

The silence in the song is cut off by whimpers. One from the lead singer on the track, one from Eddie. Both breathy, both shakey, both whispering of the loss of control.

“Fuck it.”

Two words. He says those two words again as his warning before he lets go of your hand and is reaching up, shifting your two bodies impossibly quick as his hands do exactly as you had craved. One on each cheek, and then he does it.

He kisses you.

It is neither kind nor gentle, despite the allusion that it might have been from the way he cradles your cheeks. The callouses on his fingers scrape your cheeks, you can feel every crack in his bottom lip as it slots between your own. It’s easy and quick work, the way your mouths can mold together so effortlessly. Tongues that were once so sharp as they’d spit venomous words at once another now meet and pass over teeth, blurring the lines of where you end and he begins — of where hatred ended and this began. 

Whatever it is, whatever it will be for these last few hours, whatever it will be once the clock runs out, you’re grateful. You, your vinery, your civility — they all scream their prayers of thanks as his hands drop from your cheeks and find your hips. You don’t even process that he’s tugging you onto his lap or that you’re letting him until it’s happened. Your thighs bracket his own hips, and he gives you no time before he’s pressing your full weight into him, hands clawing at you, desperate to keep you close. 

You can’t even hear the song anymore over the roar of your own heart.

“Baby,” he murmurs against your mouth, and you realize now what the price is. 

The price is your sanity. The price is a loss of control, and letting him consume you whole. A small price in the grand scheme of it all.

“I-“ you start a sentence that you have no idea of what the ending would be, but he interrupts with his mouth. The teeth your tongue had once met bite down on your lip and you swear you taste blood, swear you see crimson as he sighs out again into your open mouth. 

His hands guide your hips against his. A steady rhythm, and with only a few passes, you can feel him harden against you. Your pace picks up of your own doing, the friction of your panties and his pajama pants nudging your clit and leaving you breathless. 

What the fuck are we doing?

You should stop it. You should mind the delicate balance you two have been trying to achieve since you first crossed this line. 

You only push down harder on him, only bite down on his lip as he had yours. This time, blood might have honestly been drawn — the hiss that escapes him says it all. 

“You’re going to be the fucking death of me,” he chastises you between kisses, “You want to know what was fucking wrong earlier? You. You are driving me insane, you are driving me straight into the fucking grave.” 

Oh.

Oh.

The way he had leapt up. His nervous energy. The way he had put as much space between the two of you as possible.

“I affect you that much?”

It is not a confident question — you completely pull away from him, leaning back as you breathe it out, hands finding home on his shoulders as you survey him.

He’s being honest. 

His pupils are wide but those brown, doe eyes have softened as they meet your gaze. His chest is heaving, his lips are already bruising pink as they fall apart so casually. 

He’s being honest. 

You affect him, you’re doing this to him — he’s caught up in flames, no sign of salt water in sight. 

“You always do,” he says, “Always have. Probably always will.” 

Your grip on his shoulders tighten. 

I could never hate you. 

How blind you had been. How absolutely, blissfully unaware you had been functioning all these months. 

A hand trails from its grip on his shoulders, fingers slipping over his bare collar bone, “What do you mea-“ 

You don’t get to finish the question or dig any deeper into the revelation. The music both of you had long since abandoned has been replaced by the ringing of your phone.

Eddie’s eyes immediately pinch shut, face twisting with irritation. You can’t tell if he’s more annoyed at the interruption due to whatever breakthrough you two were on the precipice of, or because he’s still painfully hard beneath you. But he quickly wraps one arm around your waist, tugging your torso flush to his as he leans forward quickly and reaches out to grab your phone. 

“Oh, what the fuck,” he huffs once his eyes are open again and he’s looking at your phone screen.

Your face has been pressed into the crook of his neck due to the current position and way he’s tightly holding you to him. You have no clue who it is, but you have five decent guesses to throw out. 

He answers for you. Sharply and bitterly, he snaps out a, “What do you want, Harrington?” 

Steve. One of the five guesses. Go figure.

“Yes, we’re fucking alive,” Eddie holds no patience for your friend, all the softness he’d held for you gone save for the stroke of his thumb against the bare small of your back, “We were-“ 

A pause. You wonder for a second if he is going to admit it. If right here, right now, he would confess to your friends what has happened. How he could never hate you, how you drive him insane, how by nothing changing that everything has changed.

“Sleeping.” 

An answer to your question. You hate your disappointment, and bite it down with vengeance. 

You can faintly hear Steve’s voice over the phone, not quite as trilling or pitched as Nancy’s or Robin’s. Eddie’s annoyance still rolls off of him in waves, and you imagine that you’d catch him rolling his eyes along with his little huffs of air if you were to finally lift your head from his neck. But you’re selfish, and his arm is still around you waist as it presses you tight to his chest, so you indulge yourself. You dig your nose deeper against the junction of his neck, you take in his lingering cologne and let the stray curls tickle your cheeks. 

You should have known he wouldn’t admit it.

“Okay, okay,” Eddie grumbles into the phone, barely getting out the repetitive word before his breath hitches as you pucker your lips against the skin you’ve been burrowing into. It’s only a chaste kiss, but it has its desired effect, “Okay, Harrington. We’ll send a fucking photo. You done?”

Then it hits you. A fun game, a distraction from your disappoint and a way to crawl under his skin all in one. You fight hard not to let a smile spread at the risk of him feeling it against his neck as you take a deep breath in through your nose, noticing the way his shoulder nearly reflexively lifts slightly as if it tickles, because you’re puckering your lips again.

The second chaste kiss is testing the waters. He doesn’t react. And so you go forth with your plan, mouth falling open, teeth grazing his jugular.

He reacts microscopically. His chest halts movement.

It’s not enough for you.

So you suck. Hard. Puckered lips and a vendetta to prove, you let your teeth bite at the skin that sucks into your mouth. 

That does the trick.

“O-Okay!” he yelps out in surprise, his hand bruising as he grips you harder. He tries to pull his neck back from you, but his hand only presses you down onto his lap and you feel his dick twitch beneath his thin pants, “Christ, Harrington. We fucking get it. We’ll send a photo. And we won’t sleep another wink, so bite me,“ he pants out as you move to the spot beneath his ear, finding where his jaw connects to his throat, repeating the process and doing exactly as he had told Steve. His hips buck up into you, “Okay, I’m hanging up now, Harrington. Bye.” 

You’re grinning wildly against his ear as he tosses your phone carelessly somewhere on the couch — or maybe the floor, you couldn’t tell at this point — before he’s flipping you down onto your back on the couch and hovering over you.

Your head falls back instinctually, leaving your neck open for him to begin an assault of kisses.

“Are-“ A kiss. “You-“ A bite. “Fucking-“ A soothing lathe of tongue over the bite. “Kidding-“ A harsh suck. “Me.”

You writhe beneath him, but he’s pressing his entire weight down onto you, hips slotted between yours and one hand  pinning both your wrists to the cushion above as the other stays glued to your waist. 

“Did you think that was funny?” he breathes out against you, letting the tip of his nose barely graze over the base of your throat, “Doing that shit while I was trying to talk Harrington down from that damn ledge?” 

“Why was he on the ledge to begin with?” you breathily question, trying to move your hands from his grasp, the urge to run your fingers through his curls growing. He only tightens his hold.

“Apparently,” he pauses and presses a quick kiss at the edge of the sweatshirt collar, looking up at you through his bangs and lashes, “He had texted, and we didn’t respond. Photos are back in demand.” 

“We’re quite the commodity,” you try to joke, avoiding his gaze. Trying to avoid the softness buried deep inside there, all soft and melted in shades of brown, “We should start charging them.” 

“We are charging them, technically,” he snorts, finally letting go of your wrists and leveling his face above yours.

Right. You keep forgetting the promise of a cash prize if you make it out of this alive. 

Alive, not unscathed. 

You’re already picturing that cash as blood money, some pathetic trophy that won’t even begin to cover the irreversible scars that will be left behind. All the hurt, all the fights, all the realizations — no amount of promised money can erase them.

You start to consider what could erase them, but you stop yourself when you realize that that admittance is too heavy. 

He’s here. The weight of him is pressing into you, the smell of him is encasing you, and the stare of his big brown eyes is locking you in. You have him. For a few more hours, you have him.

The wounds can wait. The time to heal and scar over will come later.

“I guess they are, huh?” you laugh when you realize you’ve gone too long without replying. 

The stare turns curious. Still melted chocolate, still deathly soft for you, but curious all the same. “Yeah. Yeah, they are.” 

You’re about to retreat into your own head and consider what he might do with his share of the cash, but that voice in your mind whispers once more.

He’s here. You have him. Just ask him.

“What are you doing with your money?” you blurt out. 

He chuckles and shakes his head, curls falling over his shoulders and creating a curtain as he continues to balance his weight on his forearms settled on each side of your head, still hovering over you.

You should probably comment on that. Make a snide remark about it. Shove him off.

You don’t.

“Is that really want you’d like to talk about right now?” 

Right, the weight of his hips as he rolls them gently into you reminds you of what the two of you had been doing before the phone call. The boundaries you’d hopped right over, all the lines you two had been in the process of crossing.

The affect you have on him.

Your stomach twists and suddenly your legs fall open wider to welcome him in, only to wrap them up around his waist. He lets you, lets you pull him right in until your chests are flush to each other. The only thing separating your skin from his is this damn sweatshirt. 

“I… Maybe,” you force out just before his lips capture yours. It’s not as urgent as when he’d pulled you in for a kiss to Deftones, but it’s still enough to shatter every bone in your body before melding them all back together into something new, something different.

Something changed. 

Eddie smiles, and it’s almost shyly. “Maybe?”

You hum, but it’s cut off, caught in your throat with another roll of Eddie’s hips. 

“Okay. Let’s talk about it then, sweetheart.” 

Another roll of his hips, and you lift your own to meet the thrust this time, trying to catch him against you in a way for reprieve. You can feel the wet patch gathering on your panties, your thighs clenching onto his hips harder. 

“What ever shall I do with my money?” he pretends to ponder, eyes shooting up to look away from you in faux contemplation. 

As he does it, one of his hands wander over your sternum, dancing above the fabric of the borrowed clothes. 

“Maybe I’ll buy a new bike,” he muses, the hand wandering lower, tracing a steady line down your abdomen, “Maybe I’ll get myself a new guitar.” 

His hand has reached the hem of the sweatshirt, slips beneath it and plays with the edge of your panties. 

Your mouth will be your damnation as you snipe back, “Or maybe you can buy yourself a whole collection of playboys, filled with plenty of models who definitely don’t look like someone you claim to hate.” 

His hand retracts immediately, and you can’t help but begin to giggle.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you start to gasp out when he lifts away from you, reaching out to grab onto him. 

He’s fast, but your hands are quicker. You wrap them around the back of his neck and tug him into you, only for him to continue to lift himself up and bring you with him as well this time. 

You resemble a koala, and can only imagine what the scene looks like to an outsider. 

“Eddie!” you practically squeal, and can feel the vibrations of his own laughter as he sits up on his knees, you still clinging to him.

His arms wrap around you and you lean back, catching that mischievous glint in his eyes. It breaks through the softness, burns brightly in your chest as your laughter fades into soft breaths that hit his freckled cheeks.

You stare at each other for a moment, a tangle of limbs and unspoken words. His earlier admission isn’t forgotten, the lines crossed all painted in red now.

He’s here. You have him, for now. 

You can only imagine the claw marks you will be leaving behind when the clock strikes twenty four hours, and you’re forced to leave him and this behind. 

“You, sweetheart,” he finally breaks the silence with gentle smirk, “are a certified boner killer.” 

You don’t miss a beat, reaching down between you two, hand cupping his still prominent erection, “You sure about that?” 

He only groans in response, and in your following cackles, your hold on him slips. 

He could have let you fall back roughly on the couch, especially given his distraction with fighting his ever growing smirk. He could have let you smack your head back on the cushion and let you deal with the dull ache that would have followed. He could have, he could have, he could have.

He doesn’t. 

He guides you back with his arms still tight around you. Makes sure that you land softly against the worn plush. Takes his time removing his grip on you before he’s standing up from the couch.

You lay back, so sincerely content as you let out a final breath of a laugh and watch him shake his head in amusement as he turns to leave. 

“Where are you going?” if it weren’t for the residual giddiness of the moment, you’d have been embarrassed by the clinginess that had threaded its way into your tone.

“The bathroom,” he answers without hesitation, back facing you as he starts down the short hall.

You call after him, “Okay. Don’t take too long this time!” 

Even as his laughter echoes faintly, you know you still have him. For now.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

taglist is now closed.

[doctorcatz]

Do u do emoji anons? If so can I be 🦈 anon? If not I would like to request a gojo x reader (idk if u write for him but ya) where reader finds out he secretly cross dresses, please. Maybe. (Can u tell I'm extremely socially awkward?)

-(hopefully, maybe)🦈 anon

of course you can, love!

lord i have so many drafts, but here's a little drabble for youu,, and don't worry, i'm socially awkward too.

─────────────────────

pairing: crossdressing!gojo x top male reader

content: crossdressing, maybe ooc gojo, dominant-ish gojo, a bit of feminization, riding, unprotected sex, short writing

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"ah, fuck" gojo stared at himself in the mirror in your shared bedroom, looking himself up and down. "what am i even doing.." he thought aloud. what was he doing? he had bought this outfit on a whim. it was on sale, and he was intrigued, so he got it. now he's wearing it. a slim black dress. it was backless, which was good because with his build it felt like he was about to rip the thing apart. this was obviously not made for men,,

"this was a stupid idea.." he says as he begins to slip off the piece unaware that you had just arrived home and were about to walk through the door. "what's a stupid idea satoru?" you ask, entering the room. "oh. wow." seeing gojo in something like this was..different to say the least, but god was he attractive. the dress hugged him just right and the way his muscles tensed and flexed when he turned to look at you had you hot under the collar. "you don't like it,," he questioned, with a bit of a frown on his face "no, i do..i really do. just..wow. you look, gorgeous." you could feel yourself hardening in your pants just looking at him, and he did not fail to notice that. "really?"

"yeah? you like it?" fuck, the way he was bouncing on you,, "liked it so much you had me keep it on while i ride you hm?" he drove you wild. "yes..yes satoru i like it so much. you're such a pretty girl," gojo's face turns bright red, that was new.. and it didn't fail to make his cock twitch. "mhm- i'm your pretty girl,, that's right, ahn-!" you grab onto his hips, guiding him on your cock. the dress was high up on his waist now, his face contorted into some sort of grin, his eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out of his mouth, hair messy and sticking to his forehead from sweat. "gh- i think i'm gonna cum sato,," his grin grew ever wider as he looked down at you, speed never faltering. "oh? so soon?" you try to bring him along with you, thrusting upwards into him, slamming his hips onto your own. "ahn-! ah!" ropes of white spill onto your abdomen as his hips stutter. your own release follows shortly after, painting his insides with white. his body falls onto your own. "how about i buy you some lingerie hm?"

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man, i need to get the ideas flowing

requests: open

[sissylittlefeather]

Kinktober Day 21: Teasing

What Happens in Vegas

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, public sex (kinda)

Word Count: ~1.1k

Kinktober Masterlist

It's not the first time you've been out with Elvis, but it's the first time you've brought him to the hotel in Vegas where you normally dance. You've taken the week off to be with him, but he wanted to go to the show and he isn't really a man to be argued with. 

You first sit at a table side by side, but people keep bothering you for pictures, so you move to a smaller table sitting across from each other in a darker part of the room. From here, he can see the dancers, but no one can really see him. That’s fine by you until you realize how much he is watching the other girls. You know better than to expect that you're the only girl he's seeing. He's Elvis Presley. But you had kinda hoped that when he was with you, he would be with you, so when he's openly ogling the dancers on stage, you start to get a little annoyed. 

The first thing you do is order a drink with a cherry in it. When he finally does look at you, you roll the cherry around on your lips and tongue as he talks. He quickly loses his train of thought, stuttering and stumbling over words. But before too long he's back to staring at the girls. 

You think to yourself that it's time to switch tactics, so the next time he looks at you to speak, you settle your breasts against the table and squeeze your arms together. Your dress is sinfully low cut and doing this pushes your breasts up so high that he can almost see the tops of your nipples. This time he stops talking completely and has to remind himself to close his mouth. 

“Honey, what are you doin’?!” You look at him with your eyes wide and innocent. 

“What do you mean?” He groans and looks away again, but you're not about to be discouraged. You look around for something else to tease him with and then realize the table is small. You can easily reach him with your foot. 

Slipping off your heel, you snake your stocking-covered toes up his leg to his thigh. He whips his head around to you and gasps, speechless at first. When your little foot finds his clothed member where it always is against his left leg, he damn near screams. 

“Honey?!”

“Oh, I'm sorry, am I distracting you from watching the girls?”

“Little bit. What do you think you're doing?” He whimpers as you start to stroke him with your toes. He’s already pretty hard from your earlier antics and the stage full of half-naked women. “Baby…”

“You want me to stop?”

“Yes.” He mutters half-heartedly as his eyes are closed and he's biting his bottom lip. It doesn't look like he really does. You continue to move your toes on him where he's fully hard now. 

“That's too bad. You should've been paying more attention to me.”  

He whimpers as you stroke him with a little more pressure. You know he loves your feet. He's said it about a hundred times and it's not the first time you've had your toes on his cock.

“Honey, please. I'll s-stop. Just… oh…” He moans softly as you squeeze him a little. 

Just then, the waitress comes by to check and see if you need any more drinks. He answers in a strained voice as you move your foot on him a little faster. 

“Nope! We're doing just… fine…” He says the last part through gritted teeth and she looks at you both strangely before walking away. 

“Damn it, honey, if you don't stop-”

“What? What will you do?” He groans loudly and leans his head back with his eyes closed. The people at the next table glare at him for making such a loud noise. He smiles at them awkwardly and gestures that they should look back up at the stage. 

“Honey!! Goddamnit stop!” 

“You gonna stare some more at the bouncing tits on stage?” You pout and use the space between your big toe and second toe to pump him. 

“No! I'm gonna look at your tits and yours alone.” He hisses. 

“You sure about that?” You're moving your foot on him pretty good now with the perfect amount of pressure and speed. Sweat droplets have started to form on his forehead and he's biting his knuckle to try to stay quiet. 

“Yes, now please, stop!” You click your tongue and shrug. 

“Oh, I dunno, this is fun.” His dick twitches between your toes and you smirk. Then his hips buck and he looks at you in a panic. 

“Fuck. Honey. If you don't stop right now I'm gonna cum right here at this table.” You can tell by the look in his eyes that he's not joking or just trying to get you to stop. You've pushed him too far and it's already almost too late. 

He can't very well walk out of there with a cumstain on his pants, so you look around the table frantically as he whimpers. You'd stop, but it might actually be painful at this point, so instead you toss him your napkin. He grabs it, rips his pants open under the table and cums hard into the black cloth. You try very hard to suppress a giggle as he leans all the way forward and puts his forehead on the tablecloth. 

“Fuck, honey.” He grumbles, grunting. 

“I'm sorry…” You whisper, trying to keep the laughter out of your voice. He sits up and looks at you with his eyes wide. 

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with this now?! I can't leave it here?!” 

“Oh, shit.” You look at each other in stunned silence for a few seconds before you hand him your purse. “Put it in there.”

“Really?” 

“What choice do we have?!” It's just then that the absurdity of the situation dawns on him and he starts laughing as he takes your purse and stuffs the napkin inside it. 

“Oh, honey, that one kinda backfired on you, didn't it?” He can't stop laughing now as he hands your purse back to you. 

“Oh hush.” You crinkle your nose and look at your little bag. “You owe me a purse.”

“Don't worry, honey. After that, I'll buy you ten purses. Let's get out of here. I'm tired of these girls anyway.” You smile at him as he stands up next to the table. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You're the only one I really wanna look at anyway. You and those pretty little feet.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @deltafalax @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @jhoneybees @polksaladava @searchingforgravity @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @your-nanas-house @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69

[the-kr8tor]

Hello, I've been trying to reach you about your cars extended warranty:)

(Requesting Reverse Isekai AU thingy please^^)

I don't even have a car 😭 (thank you for requesting muah 😘)

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.1k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, lovestruck reader, reverse isekai AU, fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

One minute you're mindlessly scrolling through your phone with your headphones blaring loud music, a minute later you're screaming bloody murder when a geometric glowing portal pops up in your room. It made everything in the room glow orange and yellow as confusion and surprise took over your form.

Are you getting abducted by aliens? Are you in an episode of Rick and Morty? If so, then multiverses are real, it's either that or the mold from your numerous stock water bottles has finally gotten to your brain.

A half second into your contemplation, out comes a man that you're oh so familiar with and oh so smitten with. His boots thump loudly on your floors, spikes glimmering under the red LED lights. The whites of his mask widen when he spots you cowering in the corner, darkness overtakes you when his oh so familiar voice echoes above the whir of the portal.

“This ain't 1346.” You fall off the bed like a damsel in distress.

—

You wake up to water gently splashing your face, flicking more like. And your head aching, eyes adjusting to the sudden light.

“Fuckin' finally, I thought you were dead.” A garbled voice utters as your ears try to waken up from your deep nap. “You alright there?” His voice clears and you still think you're dreaming when Hobie Brown's mask pops up in your vision, droopy eyeliner, spikes and all that jazz that you've practically memorized in your mind.

You thought your poster has once again fallen off the walls and onto your bed. But no, when you touched his bicep abruptly, eyes as wide as saucers, lips stuttering out his name. Your favourite character is real and right in your bedroom, flicking water from one of your numerous discarded water bottles on your bedside.

Even your wildest imagination couldn't make this up.

“You're Hobie Brown.” You say in disbelief, voice just above a whisper.

“Yeah, I figured you know me based on all of these…” he roams his eyes on your walls and table. “...posters and stickers. What am I over here? A rockstar or somethin’? Since you know my name.”

“You're Hobie motherfucking Brown!” You screech, suddenly jumping off the bed, looking like someone just told you Santa isn't real.

“That I am.” Said man has the audacity to smirk at you. And you swear you would have fainted again. “You a big fan?”

“I love you.” Your voice merely a murmur but he for sure heard it as the eyes of his mask widened for a brief second.

“I think it's time for us to chat, yeah, love?”

“L-love? Fucking…” voice wavering, you drop once again, but this time he catches you perfectly without the motion sickness from traveling to one dimension after another.

Hobie chuckles, eyes staring at your sleeping face, mouth still agape from the surprise and skin hot under his gloves. “Never thought someone could faint twice in one day.”

—

There's a glass of cold water in your hands, legs nervously bouncing under the blanket. He sits at the foot of your bed, giving you enough space so as to not make you uncomfortable in your own home, and to also not make you pass out (again) from the close proximity. His iconic boots are discarded, vest folded next to him, and mask in his pocket. You almost fainted again when he took it off.

“So, this Miles from earth–1610 is gonna get chased by Miguel and the entire society because he doesn't want his canon event to happen?” You nod as he recalls your story. Not a story anymore as this Hobie hasn't experienced it yet. Of course you didn't tell him the entire plot, just in case it rips a hole in the space time continuum. “And a few people are gonna need a watch?”

You sniffle, skin so warm that you think you're boiling the water in your hands.

“Hmm, that checks out. Good thing I started making these watches then eh, love?” His mischievous smile makes your stomach do flips, you're sure he's doing it intentionally.

Pinching yourself under the covers, chugging down the cool water, you muster up enough courage to actually speak coherent words.

“H-how’d you get here?”

“Fucked up my coordinates, I think. I'm pretty sure I'm not in Kansas anymore.” Hobie chuckles at his own joke before switching his attention to your wide eyed self. “Wizard of oz, you do have that here, right?”

“Y-yes,” you say meekly, drowning in his blue? Grey? Or brown eyes? You have no idea as his borders and colors change every minute or so. Nevertheless, you're absolutely done for. You guess this is what it feels like to meet your favourite celebrity, or in this case, favourite character. “Reverse isekai.” You whisper, nerding out at the possibilities.

“A what?” He says in his accent and you tamp down the feeling of wanting to say it back jokingly.

You clear your throat, “nothing.”

Nodding, he inhales, eyes darting around your fangirl room full of fandom merch and of course spiderverse merch. He zeroes in on the body pillow peeking under the blanket. You immediately lift the covers up to hide it, accidentally spilling water all over yourself and the bed. *Great, very smooth, you thought.

His eyes are soft and full of endearment whilst he watches you frantically and desperately dry yourself off.

You hope that he doesn't tease, but you know him, know his character, so you anticipate what happens next.

“What was that then?” He pats your foot, head tilting to look at you. You feel your head swirl again, and you swear the water spilled all over you evaporates from the sheer heat from your skin.

“N-nothing, Hobie.” You sink into the mattress.

“Right,” He unfolds his vest, putting it back on. “It's been great, but I gotta go.”

“Oh,” you blink, “do you want me to take out the posters? I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

He shakes his head with a smile. “Nah, not uncomfortable, I've been in worse dimensions. This ain't that bad really.”

“They're bootlegs if that makes it more okay.”

Hobie laughs and you practically melt from the sound.

“Bootleg, huh? That's a great name, project bootleg it is.” His smile blinds you for a second. You feel like you've ascended to heaven. “I have a tight schedule, being Spider-Man and all, but maybe I can visit again to get some insider knowledge of the future. Eh, Oracle?”

“S-sure,” you choke on the singular word. “It's a date— wait– no, I meant—”

Hobie chuckles, hands on his hips, bouncing on the balls of his boot clad feet, and border turning bright pink. For some reason, in all your clumsy and goofy self, you just made *the Spider-Man sheepish. Not just any Spider-Man, Hobie Brown, your absolute favourite out of all the thousands of Spider-people in the entire multiverse.

“It's a date then, no fainting next time yeah? I'll still catch you anyway, but it wouldn't be that fun if you're sleeping through it.”

“Okay.” You manage to say, heart loudly beating in your chest when his art style changes into love poems etched into his design.

He jumps inside the portal to hide the poems, winking at you before his body disappears into the void.

As the portal closes, you pass out once again, with a lopsided smile this time.