#but on this show I have no idea how things will shake out

[edward-munson]

i'm right here - E.M.

Summary: You've been friends with Eddie ever since middle school. You come back to Hawkins after spending a few years living with your parents in Texas, but you're met with the news that he's dating Chrissy- the one who would always say bad things about him. You like each other, but neither knows about each other's feelings.

Ps: You're Steve Harrington's sister and your nickname is Harrington/shortie.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: None for now!

Word count: 7k

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You flushed the toilet so the water running on the shower would get hotter while Steve was in there. "Come on, Steve. Hurry the fuck up, you're not meeting the Queen of England!" You whined.

"You're so gonna pay for that later!" He yelled as he threatened you.

Moments after his shower, Steve showed up on the staircase, fixing up his damp hair with a towel. "I think you should know Eddie is seeing Chrissy Cunningham. I know you guys haven't seen each other in almost like three years”.

He couldn’t read your expression, though he knew you had a thing for your friend. “Keep your panties on, groupie. I know you have a crush on him" He mocked you without noticing you were almost choking on your own spit.

"First, don't ever say that nasty thing again. And second, I don't have a crush on him".

"Yeah, the way you hide it is so nonchalant" Steve satirized, laughing at the way you tried to throw a cushion at him.

"If you don't shut up and hurry up, I'll let the entire school know you use Farrah Fawcet's hair spray" Steve almost choked on his cereal and you snorted.

"Don't you fucking dare!"

You and Eddie were good friends before you moved out to Texas. It's not like you were best friends, but you were pretty close. You would always go to your hideout together to smoke weed and then you'd go to his house to see him play guitar.

It kinda hit you like a truck to know he was seeing the one girl who had always been talking shit about him and mocking him at school and he didn't even know that. Point being, if he actually did know, then he was just being completely oblivious.

You had no idea how you'd react when seeing him with Chrissy, but nothing prepared you for the moment you got inside the school. His hair was longer, he was skinny and he had a lot more rings than you remembered. You couldn't shake the feeling of seeing him laughing close to her, while she was wearing her cheerleader outfit. This might be the weirdest shit you've seen, the outcast going out with the most popular girl in school, if not the city.

You stood there for a good two minutes without saying anything, while Steve kept calling you out of your daydreaming. "Jesus, can you act like you're not going to faint?".

You grit your teeth and elbow your brother on the ribs. “Shut the fuck up”.

Steve pulls you by your arm and makes a beeline to his locker. You had to be in your class in about 10 minutes, but when Eddie saw you in the distance, he froze. He kept staring at you while Chrissy poked him in the chest, calling his name out. You didn't see he was looking until you realized he was coming towards you.

"Oh my God, the better Harrington!" He said out loud and your brother let out a sarcastic laugh. Eddie was smiling widely, opening his arms. He reached you in a tight grip, his arms wrapped around your neck.

"Eddie!" You gave him a big smile, even though he didn't see it.

He smelled just like you remembered, tobacco and a cheap cologne. Obviously not the same one anymore, but it still smelled too good. His curls were brushing your face, tickling your nose.

You held him by his skinny waist and could barely breathe. This was the closest you've been to him in a million years. "It's such a surprise to see you. Your brother didn't tell me you would come!".

"Yeah, she came back from Texas. Ditched our parents to come and live with her favorite family member" He joked and Eddie laughed.

"No way you came back to Hawkins" He let go of you, still looking surprised.

Your breath hitched your throat at the way he looked at you as you nodded. It seemed like Eddie couldn’t believe you were standing right there in front of him. He could never think you would come back to that hell hole and the thought of seeing you every day made his heart race for some reason. Steve was completely aware of your feelings, now you couldn't hide you did have a crush on him.

"I didn't want to stay with our parents forever. I wanted to be more independent, you know. And then Steve and I talked, he agreed on having me over" You started rambling, your hands were shaking and you almost stumbled over your words.

Steve noticed the way you were practically stressing and hovered over your shoulder. "You mean I was obliged to have you over" He taunted.

"Good to see you're back, shortie" You forgot how much you loved when he called you like that.

Eddie was really surprised to see you there. Happy, even. For a moment he forgot about Chrissy, turning over to call her out. Oh, God. You looked over your brother and he squinted.

"You remember Chrissy? You guys were in plays together, right?" He reached over her hand, you watched her smile and snuggle with him.

Like it's hard to not remember her.

"Sure! How have you been?" You played cool. Deep inside you wanted to smash her head against the lockers and snap at her for being such a bitch. And hypocritical.

You and Eddie didn't talk too much after that, you had to get to your locker before going to class. He made sure you'd meet during lunch, but you don't think you had the guts to be there. Because Chrissy would be there.

The entire time Steve was watching over you while you were at their table. Good thing you at least met his friends he was always talking about. You got along really well with Robin, she was really nice. You had a lot of fun on the first day, not just because of them. But because you were able to make friends from your classes, which you were afraid wouldn't happen.

After school, your brother gave you a ride back home before he went to work. During the entire time, you were complaining about Chrissy and Steve was trying to make you feel conformed. It was actually hard for him to see how much you liked Eddie and how much you hated her.

Even though you were always mocking each other, he loved you unconditionally.

"God, what a fucking bitch. You know her better than me now, right? You remember how much she would talk shit about him? Obviously not right at his face, but people knew. I knew!" You snapped.

"Look, I know. Maybe she's changed a bit, I don't see her doing what she used to do. But he likes her" He tried being reasonable.

"Of course he likes her. She's pretty, she's the head cheerleader. She's a manipulative twat" Your brother snorted at your words.

"I get that it would bother you. It does seem hypocritical, but people change. Sometimes it's hard to understand her motivations, maybe she just sees something different in him" You frowned at Steve.

"I don't buy that".

"Either way, we're going to a haunted house tomorrow after my shift. He's coming too. I don't know about her" He said, pulling by the driveway.

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" You retorted. It wasn't enough for you to know he was seeing the most two-faced person at school besides Jason. You had to go out with her as well.

Later that night, you had been thinking about a way of spending time with your brother and his friends without being catastrophically awkward near Eddie. And worse, near him and Chrissy. You just wish you could punch the life out of her pretty face, but you couldn't.

With Halloween being closer, the city was already decorated with adornments and the stores have set a good amount of Halloween displays. You and Steve were yet to decorate his house, but every other neighbor had already done that.

You were finishing getting ready, looking at yourself in the mirror, nervously thinking about Eddie. God, you don't remember the last time you acted so foolish over a crush like that, it was honestly terrifying as hell.

But then again, what's the reason you're being like that if he's one of your closest friends? And also, it doesn't matter how you look because Chrissy is seeing him anyway. You huffed, walking downstairs to wait for Steve, who was almost late, again.

"Steve, get your ugly face right here, so we can use you to scare the kids" You shouted, taunting your brother, so he would hurry up.

He took about two minutes to show up. His hair perfectly sat on his head, like always. He looked like he was about to go to a Fashion Week event.

"You know it's dark in there, right? No one's going to see you".

"Fuck you, sis. I have a date afterwards, but that's none of your business" He replied.

There was a good amount of people already waiting in line when you got there. You saw Robin, Nancy, Jonathan and Eddie. It was the first time you were seeing him out of school, but it didn't feel like it was the same thing. You just had no idea why.

"You forgot your baseball bat, Harrington" The metalhead implied, snorting. Steve let out a sarcastic laugh.

"I'm not scared of it, dumbass. You should be the one scared of the spiders" Your brother brought it up. And then you remembered it like it was yesterday.

You were in your basement placing the Halloween decoration for your "private" party, there were a lot of spiders, cockroaches and bats spread all over the wall. But the spiders were too realistic, and before he even got in the room, you dropped one of them on his head and he started screaming.

It made you laugh so hard you almost peed yourself. You didn't know he was scared of spiders at the time, and it was too amusing for you. For him, it was terrifying, honestly. You immediately started laughing at the memory, and he stared at you.

"Oh, God. I remember that, like it was yesterday. You were so scared of the spider decoration, I've never seen you walk up the stairs so fast" You were still laughing. He chuckled at the thought, pushing your shoulder slightly.

"Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous. But big spiders are crazy shit" He was still chuckling. Steve looked from you to his friend, tilting his head. You still were good friends, he just didn't want you to get hurt.

It was a big haunted house. They really put effort into the ornament, the features included demons, ghosts, skeletons, zombies, monsters, possessed people, witches, serial killers, and slashers. For the most part of it, it was just walking through the hallways without a jump scare, but that was the fun was about.

You were walking with Nancy and Robin, too close to not be apart from each other. But one of the zombies screamed so loud next to you that Robin's reflection was to just run out of that hallway. You were still laughing with Nancy at your friend's reaction.

Then you told her to reach for the girl while you stayed behind. You liked seeing the details of it, how they managed to make an entire house so well decorated. The only creepy thing was a possessed face hanging out of a frame, but it wasn't moving.

You were walking backwards, still staring at the details, when you bumped your back into something and immediately yelled. Your heart was racing like crazy. You turn around and see Eddie there.

"Holy shit, I didn't see you there!" He was placing a hand over his chest. He was probably looking for the others. "Jesus H. Christ, I almost had a stroke".

"Just you? I thought I was having a heart attack" You slapped him on his forearm and he laughed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I lost one of my rings" He replied, and you were about to speak, but he cut you off. "Before you say that's not important, it's my favorite one".

You chuckled, obviously. You thought it was cute, him having a favorite ring when they were all weird alike. But he was a weirdo as well. In a good way.

"I didn't say anything" You defended yourself. "I think it's probably going to be really hard to look for it here. It's too dark”.

He crouched down, looking for the accessory in every possible corner of the place. If only there was a flashlight in there.

"Who even wants a ring like that?" You joked, you knew he was going to flip at you for talking shit about a ring. But that was the fun about it.

"Shut up and help me, shortie. You're still a little evil as I remember" He retorted and you snorted. You would always be one to mock him and playfully satirize his tastes, even though you never judged him for not liking the things he liked.

You and Eddie spent a good amount of time looking for that ring. You looked behind the decoration, under it, in every single corner of the place. You even asked the masked people, the zombies, witches and the other staff for his accessory and didn't find it.

"Remember when we went to that fair when we were, like, 12? You lost your earrings and couldn't stop crying" He started, making his way back to the second floor.

You chuckled. They were your favorite, because Steve got them for you from a bag of chips, and you thought it was so cute you always wore them.

"I only stopped crying when he promised me he would get me a new pair. But he never did and eventually I forgot about it".

"You almost made us look everywhere. It was impossible, and we had to. You said you were going to pull our hair out of our scalp if we didn't help" Eddie was laughing at the memory.

"Are you saying that if we don't find it, you're going to cry and pull my hair out?". He snorted.

"No, but I am going to be sad. I bought it like, a few years ago when I went to Ohio". Really, he sounds too cute talking about a ring.

It hit you that you were thinking it was cute only because you thought he was cute. Your brother and the others were probably looking for you right now. And it didn't take longer for one of them to find you there. Two weirdos looking behind the decorations.

After a moment of silence, you spoke. "So, how are things with Chrissy?". You were interested in his relationship with her, you just wanted to know about how far it would go.

"We've only been going out for a couple of months. She's really nice. Kinda weird to think of it, she's still a cheerleader, and I'm the outcast".

"Yeah, real nice" You satirize, but he doesn't catch it. "I'm really happy for you. Not so much for her".

He was about to ask what you meant, but someone showed up behind you.

"As much as I would like to stay over the entire night, can we just leave?" Robin asked as she saw you both weirdly looking at the ornaments.

"He lost one of his rings and he's going to cry if he doesn't find it" You mock.

"Oh, I think Steve found it right after you dropped it".

Indeed, your brother found his ring and kept it in his pocket. Turns out, the night out was fun, despite your conversation with Eddie. You know you shouldn't have said too much, but he was probably going to forget about it anyway.

You wanted him to be happy, you really did. But every time you remember what Chrissy did and how much shit she used to talk about him, you can't help but be bitter about it.

You spent the weekend at home and had a sleepover at Robin's with Nancy. You had a really great time getting to know them better, listening to their stories about school and other things about Hawkins.

It was a good thing to get distracted and not think too much about Eddie and his new girlfriend. For all you know, he's been having a great time with her. 

Steve asked you to spend more time with him and the others at their table during lunch. You had no problem with that, because you weren’t that close to the other girls from your classes yet, and it would be too awkward for you. Nonsense. It was way more awkward now, sitting next to Robin and Jonathan, while your brother was sitting right in front of you with Nancy on one side, and Eddie - with her. 

You guys were talking about the Halloween party someone you didn’t know was going to throw the following weekend. You were all figuring out what to wear, and you could hear Robin rambling about wanting to rent a camo costume. Everyone laughed when you said Steve should probably wear his former sailor Scoops Ahoy uniform as he flipped you a finger. 

Your brother reminded everyone at the table the times you both would go outside for trick or treating and would come back with heavy buckets of candy, because he would steal them from the other kids. Steve also brought up the one time Eddie was following along with you two, but started wheezing because his asthma was bad. 

“Oh, no. Poor Eddie” Chrissy pouted, holding his chin before leaving a peck on his cheek. He mirrored her playfully, and you scrunched your nose. “I didn’t know you were asthmatic”.

“Of course you didn’t” Your words slipped from your mouth faster than your brain could think of it and Steve kicked you on the shin under the table. 

Chrissy flipped her head to look at you, her head almost tilted, like she didn’t get what you said. Eddie didn’t notice what you said, either. 

Once they were back to talking about the Halloween party, you couldn’t stop watching them both being too cheesy next to each other. It started annoying you, at some point. Jonathan was probably bothered by it too, but he’s one that wouldn’t even kiss in front of people anyway. 

After class, you were heading to the library to work on a new project. Halfway through your walk, Eddie reached over your shoulder. He pulled you by his hand. He had just finished smoking a cigarette, from the looks of it. 

“Hey, how’s school been?” He wrapped your shoulder around one of his arms, walking side to side. 

“So far, so good. It’s different from Texas but, still, it’s school” You shrugged. There wasn’t much of a difference, really. “How have you been during these few years?”

“Ah, nothing much. Been helping uncle Wayne, selling goodies for the kids and practicing with my band. Which, by the way, you should see us some time”. 

“I definitely will. I still remember you wanted your future band to be called Corroded Coffin” You chuckled. 

You found a table near the entrance and sat down, while Eddie followed you doing the same, resting one of his arms on the chair. 

“Yep, that’s the name” You couldn’t point out the effect his smile actually had over you. Maybe this is one of the features she saw in him. 

“I’m hopeful the band is going to work out, you know. You’ve always loved playing”. And you loved watching your friend play guitar, not just because he looked so sexy doing it. But because he was a really good player. 

Eddie nodded, resting his head against your shoulder while you tried to remember what you were about to do at the library. 

“Doesn’t it bother Chrissy that you’re friends with girls?” You know this is dangerous territory. Not for him, but for you. Because you know you might end up talking more than you should. 

He shook his head. That is some twisted information for you to gather. Maybe it’s because she thinks no one would actually be in love with him.

You were in seventh grade, you were friends with Chrissy and other girls at the time. Hawkins always had a group of cheerleaders, and their captains were always the same. Too pretty, too skinny and too bitchy. God, she was such a bitch. 

You honestly hated that, so you never really went for it. But during classes and sleepovers with the other girls, you were slowly finding out the blonde, sweet-smiling girl was only sweet to people she chose to be. You had no idea if she ever talked shit about you, but that doesn’t seem like it. 

Either way, you knew, and you still remember how she would talk about your brother, even if she said she was kidding. Steve is the hottest guy ever, but he’s such a fucking himbo. And then she would look at you and say “Steve is a great guy, I’m just kidding”. Yeah… right. Then, you always overheard her saying how creepy and lunatic Eddie was. How he could never be able to pick up a girl, because he wasn’t attractive at all. You never did anything, because you didn’t want to start a fight. 

You didn’t want to hurt him, telling him the truth. Why would you say it now? It would probably hurt him more. One, because you kept it from him. And two, he might not even want to believe you after four years. Everything was already fucked up, Steve knew how much you liked Eddie and how much you cared about him. But it was hard to tell him that. Steve never said anything either, because Eddie was closer to you, not him. He didn’t want to overstep your friendship. 

You only realized the metalhead was talking to you when he slightly tapped his palm over your forehead. “Fucking trapped over there? I’ve been talking to you like a dork over here”. 

Your smile almost faltered, lowering your head. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m still thinking about that, it’s weird dating her, right?”. 

“A little, but we like each other”. He was grinning too hard. “She’s really nice, by the way. I was wondering if you and the girls could include her in your hanging outs?”.

God, how are you gonna say no to him? Fuck no, you couldn’t. But you will have to, don’t you? If you say no, he’s gonna be upset. 

“Uh- I can ask Robin and Nance about that, see what they think?” You were almost spilling everything out to him, just so you could get rid of that puppy eyed face he was pulling. 

“Really? Sounds good, shortie!” He gave you a tight hug before leaving you alone. 

And then, you threw your notebook on the table and leaned your arms against it, holding your head in your hands. How long until you consider going back to fucking Texas already?

-

You would spend most of the days trying to distract yourself from thinking about Eddie and his relationship with Chrissy. It was starting to become obsessive and Steve was already too annoyed to hear you talking about his friend over and over. He would tell you to get over it, but it was really impossible to forget how much shit she used to talk about your friend. Maybe it's the fact that you decided to hide it from him, maybe it's because you don't wanna ruin it for him seeing how happy he is.

Steve was about to go on a double date bowling with Robin and Vicky when he looked over the living room, watching as you flipped over the channels looking for something to watch. Everything seemed boring because your head was way too far from this planet. He stepped in front of the TV as he placed his hands over his waist and looked at you. You raise your head and stare back at him with a frown.

"Why are you looking at me like that, freak?" You pushed him off and sat back on the couch, still frantically pushing the buttons on the remote.

"I'm going on a double date and you look like shit. I thought maybe you'd like to go" You scoffed at his words, shaking your head.

"And be the fifth wheel? No, thanks"

Why would you even want to be there with two couples, while watching them having fun? You're not in the mood to get out of the house and interact.

Steve didn't even think about insisting, he fumbled for his car keys over the pocket of his jeans and left.

You huffed. Maybe it wasn't so bad to go with them and just play a little, right? What if you were supposed to be doing that instead of feeling sorry for Eddie? Who, by the way, must be having a lot of fun with her right now. Rolling your eyes, you get up from the couch and go to your bedroom looking for something to wear. You didn't want to actually dress up like you usually do, so you put on your favorite Nike and grab a denim jacket before leaving the house.

The sad thing about deciding to go out is that you'd have to walk down the streets. For a moment you didn't realize it, but then it came to your mind that you didn't know where the hell the bowling place was. As you stopped in your tracks in the middle of your walk, you laughed sarcastically. How can you be so dumb? The only other choice you had was to head over to the closest gas station and find a phone.

You tried Nancy's, but she was with Jonathan. Dustin and the other kids were too young to drive and you weren't actually friends with anyone else. The only other choice was probably unavailable either, but you had to try. You didn't want to walk back home and it wasn't exactly that safe to be alone in the streets when it's dark.

You heard the other line ringing too many times. Of course it's just ringing. You feel like a stupid bitch for calling. But only until the line goes on.

"Hello?" It's him, you feel yourself freezing in place and suddenly your throat goes dry.

It felt like you stood there holding the phone for several minutes before you could speak up. You heard his voice say "hello" about three times.

"If this is you, Henderson, I'm going to freaking punch you at school! Stop calling me, you punk" He said with a sigh and you couldn't help but laugh.

"I thought you'd be getting calls from girls and even from your girlfriend. But never from Dustin" You feel your heart racing against your chest and it's ridiculous to notice how dumb it is to feel like that.

"Huh? Who is it?"

You laugh again and bite your lower lip playfully. "If you guess, I'll give you a chocolate yoohoo".

Eddie snorts and laughs.

"Hey, shortie. What do I owe the pleasure of your call?"

"I'll tell you, but if you laugh I'll chop off a chunk of your hair!" You warn him as you play with the phone wire.

"You wouldn't! I promise I won't laugh, just tell me"

"I was going to the bowling place, but it turns out I don't know the address. Stevie is on a double date with Robin and my only option was Nancy" It wasn't entirely true, you really wanted to call him first. But you didn't want to be desperate because of him.

"Ouch" He muses "So I wasn't an option?"

"No- It's not... I thought you were out with Chrissy so I didn't want to bother you" Saying it out loud sounds a lot more stupid than it was inside your head.

This is actually pretty ridiculous and so humiliating.

"You never bother me, shortie. And Chris is out with her girl friends" Chris. Ugh, this is so weird. "So, where the hell are you so I can pick you up?"

He arrived at the gas station in less than ten minutes. Eddie parked his van and got off the vehicle just so he could open the passenger door for you. This is so sweet I could just punch his face, you thought. 

He sat next to you and turned the radio back on, a song from Metallica started playing at a low volume and you scrunched up your eyebrows. This is something you never witnessed, he was always playing music too loud back then.

"What happened to the loud music?" You ask as you buckle yourself and Eddie starts the car.

"Uh, force of habit" He laughs through his nose. "Chrissy usually wants to turn it down so I just leave it. I kinda got used to it"

She what? God, she's such a bitch.

You try not to show off your disappointment, so you act like it's okay. "So it doesn't bother you that she doesn't want your radio to be loud?"

"You'd be surprised she doesn't want to change the tapes all the time" He says it with a smile on his face, but it bothers you on such a high level.

You trip over your words a few times. You're really bad at disguising your actions. For a bitch, she's quite nice to him. Maybe she's changed.

"Wow, she really loves you" Your words come out sarcastically but he doesn't notice it and agrees with you.

"Yeah, I think she does. Sometimes it's hard to believe it" Everything about this is so wrong and you can't help but feel bad for him. You're really trying to be happy.

Before Eddie pulls up by the bowling parking lot, he makes sure he stays and pairs up with you so you can all play. You like the idea, and your stomach fills in with butterflies and he looks at you and says you and he are the best "couple".

Steve looks at you weird when you show up with Eddie, and gives you a sided eye when he greets his friend. You just shrug, letting him know you'll explain it later. Robin, on the other hand, seems quite happy to see him there. They became really close after everything that happened after Vecna, and how he's grateful for them for taking care of him when he almost died. You only knew the story, you could see some fading scars over his face, just like the ones Steve has.

"Alright, shortie. You take the lighter balls and I'll have the heavy ones. We're aiming for all the pins, try not to slip over the lane. And no bumpers" He says it like you're a child and fakes a gasp when you punch him in the shoulder.

"I've played before, you moron!"

"You can't even hold the ball without complaining that your fingers hurt" Steve chimes in your conversation, sitting next to you as you put on your shoes.

You look over at him and roll your eyes. "How would you play with a broken finger, bro?" You tease him.

Your brother seems confused with your question. You get up from your seat only to step up with your right foot over your it right where his hand rests. Your bowling shoe presses against his fingers and you watch as Steve struggles to pull his hand back to him. His fingers look bruised already and he takes a few steps toward you.

"You little bitch" He whispers. "You better find some other place to sleep tonight"

You stare back at him with a sided smile over your face, while he tries not to choke his own sister in public.

"Alright brother and sister, let's have some fun okay? It's just a joke" Robin comes to you both and holds her friend's forearm, pulling him closer to her. You watch him give you the middle finger and you can't help but laugh.

Steve's date is a nice girl and really smart. Emma is also funny and likes to make jokes as well, but her father isn't so nice. She had to leave earlier than she thought after her dad came to pick her up. You see how your brother seems upset, especially because it's been so long since he hadn't been having fun with girls. They were all too annoying or too difficult to deal with.

It was you against Eddie and Robin against Steve now. Eddie took his time to teach you a few things and tricks, he graciously grasped his calloused fingers against your skin and you could feel a strange electricity run through your body and Eddie felt the same. For a moment he thought it could’ve been his mind playing games, but when he looked over to his left side he saw Steve staring at both of you with worry in his eyes. 

Your brother doesn’t want things to go wrong for his friend, and he knows how much Eddie cared about you too. The metalhead shook his head lightly and focused on telling you how to release the ball without it hurting your fingers. All you could hear was a buzz in your ears and it was hard to stay sane when there’s a man standing inches from your face teaching you how to hold a fucking bowling ball. 

The next few minutes, though, were played in slow motion for Eddie. He watched as Chrissy arrived with Jason resting his right arm around her small shoulders. She was smiling at him and laughing at something he was telling her. If it wasn’t for Robin, Eddie probably would’ve dropped the heavier ball over your foot. You didn’t see it happening right away because you were tying your shoes, but when you noticed Steve kicking you incessantly, you turned over just in time to see her with the basketball team leader. 

Isn’t it just funny? Funny how both are the most popular and obnoxious people in school. Funny how they “match” because of the status and how wrong everything about that is. Eddie stood there frozen in his place, his shoulders were hard as a rock and slumped, while Robin tried talking to him. You looked over Steve and saw his expression turn into anger. You know how much he tries not to break someone’s nose when he crosses his arms against his chest and just scowls at people. That’s how protective he is over his friends and he learned to be protective over Eddie as well. 

“What a fucking bitch” Robin whispered right next to Eddie, who instantly turned his head to look at her for a second. “I’m sorry”.

She rested one of her hands over his shoulder and he didn’t move an inch from his place as he watched them both look at each other and smile. They didn’t even notice all of you from the other side of the place and maybe it was for the best. You felt as Steve pulled you by your hand and looked at Robin, who was still holding Eddie’s shoulder while all of you walked out of there without being noticed. 

He didn’t have an expression on his face for the first seconds after you got to the parking lot. But as soon as he stood closer to his van, Eddie gripped a strand of his hair with both hands leaving a heavy sigh from his lips. The three of you didn’t know what to say or do, and watched as your friend had an outbreak moment. He laughed, Eddie laughed so loud and it was an obvious fake laugh. The one you let out when you’re nervous. Now looking closely, you can see a tear being shed and slide down his cheek. You couldn’t help yourself and walked up to him, holding him closely as you rested your chin on his shoulder. He’s a little taller, so you have to be on tippy toes. 

“She-” His voice broke from holding back the tears and you forcefully closed your eyes in anger. “She said she loved me” 

“I’m really sorry, Ed” You try to comfort him but you know he’s hurting and it won’t make a difference now. But you want to be there for him and stop the tears from falling if you need to. 

“How could she do that?” His voice was barely above a whisper and he wasn’t feeling ashamed of crying in front of his friends. 

It takes both of you a few minutes after breaking the contact, and you watch as Eddie tries to get rid of his wet face with the hem of his t-shirt. Don’t look, now is not the fucking time. You don’t answer his question, but you know it’s time for you to let him know the truth. He deserves to know she’s always been and always will be a fucking slut. Eddie gets in the car after opening the passenger door for you and you sit there not really knowing how you’re going to say it. 

As he sits down and exhales a long sigh, he fixes his messed hair and looks at you. His smile is broken and his eyes are a little puffy and you feel your heart break. Your first instinct is to carefully place one hand over his jawline and rub your thumb against his skin. “I’m sorry about the outbreak” He says.

“You don’t have to be sorry about that, Eddie”

“I just don’t fucking understand anything! She said she was hanging out with her cheerleader friends and I told her it was okay and that I was staying home. I was tired from working at the library. God, she- It’s Jason fucking Carver, that guy hates me!” Eddie sounded pretty much like he was frustrated with everything at that moment and you couldn’t do much. 

You couldn’t do anything to take away his pain, you just had to be there for him. Maybe it’s better to end this now and accept the fact he’s gonna hate you forever, rather than hiding from him what she’s been like from the beginning. 

“She’s always been like that, Eddie” You whispered, watching as he slowly looked at you with a blank stare. He furrowed his brows and tilted his head a little. “She… used to talk about you back in middle school. A lot of bad things. About how creepy you were and that you would never have friends. When we were all together before the plays, she would say things like that, Chrissy used to talk about Steve too. She talked about him so many times”. 

You were trying to be patient and wait for a response but it never came. He just kept staring back at you for a couple of minutes, biting his lower lip a little too hard for your liking. And then he laughed again, and that’s when you knew shit was about to go down. Because you know he would believe you. But it comes with a consequence. 

He laughed for a few seconds and tossed his head back with a hard laugh. God, it was actually terrifying to look at him like that. Eddie lowered his head and gripped your hand with one of his own. He didn’t push it, he just placed it back over your lap.

“So, you’re telling me… that you’ve known this entire time she never liked me- And- And you never told me?” His tone came out a little hoarse and hurt, it made your skin shiver. It’s not like he was gonna yell at you because it isn’t Eddie, but he was definitely hurt. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you back then, Eddie. And then when I found out you were together I saw how happy you were!” You felt your own tears stream down your face as you tried to keep eye contact with him, but it was too painful to look. 

“Do I look like I’m fucking happy now? Why would you never tell me someone was talking shit about me?” Eddie was so upset with you right now, but he could never treat a woman like shit. Not even when he’s the most stressed. 

“Because you didn’t deserve that! It was Chrissy, she was never nice to people she didn’t like. I don’t think she ever liked me as a matter of fact! She never got along with Steve!” 

“It doesn’t concern me if she liked me or not. It matters to me what she did back then and why the fuck she decided I was the one she liked now! Jesus H. Christ, Harrington. She literally played me and I’m sitting in my fucking car right now just digesting everything she ever did” Eddie started crying again and this time his tears were from being upset and disappointed. It was because of you now, not because of her. 

He called you Harrington, it's the weirdest thing to ever hear when it comes to him, because he never calls his friends by their last name unless he's mad or it's just a joke. But it isn't a joke.

“I know, I’m really sorry about that. I never bought the story that she genuinely liked you and I really wanted to believe she did. But I never trusted her, I never liked her either. Eddie, I swear I never wanted you to get hurt like this” You raised your left hand to brush off his tears while with your right one you held his shoulder, trying to comfort him. 

“I really believed she did. She never seemed to make it like it wasn’t true. God, I’m so fucking dumb! You should’ve told me befo-” His words choked over his crying and you felt your heart sink in your chest. 

“I never wanted things to end like this, I’m so sorry Eds. I really am, I was supposed to let you know, I know that. It wasn’t fair to you!” 

“She was the only person who ever liked me and now I’m back to being alone and-” You gripped his wet chin and raised his head so he could look at you. Eddie was a mess, his hair was damp from all the crying and his bangs were all over his face. 

“Hey, she’s not the only person who ever liked you…” Your hands were trembling and your heart was racing.

"What does that even mean?" He looked very confused. He was struggling to stop crying and you could see how much he was stressed.

It was a surprise he wasn't having an asthma attack yet.

You bit your lower lip and didn't try to disguise what you wanted to say. You just hated that the situation brought you two into this mess and now you're about to tell him what you've been holding in for years.

Both of you were looking intensely at each other and Eddie let out a gasp of disbelief. He was surprised, that was the only word enough to describe him right now. 

[disgustingtwitches]

A Rose in Harlem

New York is supposed to be the city where people vanish into the chaos, but somehow, Simon Riley has found his way into your life. He’s managed to slip past your defenses, filling a void you didn’t realize was there. But when the closeness starts to feel too real, you pull back, desperate to hide your vulnerability. Simon, however, has already bared his own scars and expects you to do the same. Suddenly, your life feels like a romcom you never signed up for, starring the one man who’s impossible to ignore.

Long live the rose that grew from concrete, when no one else ever cared.

Masterlist

PART 4

The Sweetest Taboo

So, you're sleeping with your neighbor. This is fine. Totally fine. You're two consenting adults; no one needs to know. Except Simon seems to disagree.

You wouldn’t peg him as the "kiss and tell" type, but much to your duress, Simon is unapologetically the "kiss and show" type.

At the grocery store, he casually shows up at the same time, grabbing your bags like it’s second nature and walking you home. The stares from the neighbors make your face burn.

Morning run-ins in the foyer have evolved into something dangerously inappropriate. He refuses to let you leave without a kiss. Sometimes it’s just a fleeting brush of lips; other times, it’s deeper, lingering, and edging into the territory of lewd, making you shove his face away.

Then there’s the hoodie. One of his oversized ones, soft and smelling faintly of him. He bullied you into wearing it. You caved, of course, but it stays hidden in the back of your drawer when Ishta comes around—there’s no way you’re dealing with opening that can of worms.

It’s not just the overt gestures, though. It’s the way he lingers too long at your door after you’ve kissed him goodnight. Watches you through the fire escape, like he has every right to. Sitting there with his legs sprawled, a cigarette lazily dangling between his fingers, he makes no attempt to hide it.

You tried to put an end to that one. Bought curtains on a whim, feeling smug about the newfound privacy they’d grant you. But they mysteriously disappeared the day after you installed them—conveniently after you’d gone to work.

Simon played dumb when you confronted him, leaning casually against his doorframe.

“Dunno what you’re talking about, angel. Someone breaking in while you’re away? Maybe I should stick around your place and keep watch.”

His grin was infuriatingly smug, as it usually is.

It’s all becoming a little too real, a little too… loud. And yet, when you’re pressed up against him in the quiet of your apartment, his hands framing your face like you’re the only thing worth holding onto, you almost forget about his wrongdoings.

***

“Brought out the good shit tonight.”

Ishta grins, popping open a bottle of prosecco—the cheap, overly sweet kind she adores. You hold back the urge to grimace as she pours, passing you a glass.

“What's the occasion?”

“Me and Mr.Scottsman are official!”

She squeals lifting her glass high. You mimic the gesture, the clink of glass on glass ringing lightly through the room.

“Wow, it's so official you still won't tell me his name.”

You quip, rolling your eyes as you take a cautious sip. The sweetness of the wine hits immediately, and you fight the reflex to wince.

“John. Johnny.”

She sighs dreamily, hearts in her eyes.

“I call him Johnny because John is way too serious for my liking.”

You raise a brow at her,

"Sounds like you’ve got it bad, Ishta.”

She doesn’t deny it, swirling the prosecco in her glass like it’s some romantic prop, her grin widening.

"Oh, you have no idea. He’s got this laugh—it’s ridiculous—and he can’t make tea to save his life. But, ugh, he’s perfect."

You shake your head, taking another begrudging sip of the prosecco, already bracing yourself for what’s sure to be a night of gushing anecdotes about Johnny.

“Perfect,”

You echo with a laugh, setting your glass down.

“You’ve been together for how long now? A month?”

“Three weeks,”

Ishta corrects.

“But when you know, you know.”

You snort, leaning back against the arm of the couch.

“Yeah, sure. You’re gonna marry this man, huh?”

“Don’t tempt me,”

She says, her grin widening.

“He’s already invited to meet his family. Can you believe it? His family, and I’m just over here trying to not come off as a complete lunatic.”

“Well, you’re failing spectacularly.”

You tease.

She throws a pillow at you, laughing.

“Says the one who’s been mysteriously glowing these past few weeks. Care to spill why?”

You freeze for half a second, a sip of prosecco poised at your lips.

“Glowing? What are you even talking about?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me,”

Ishta says, narrowing her eyes.

“You’re hiding something. Someone.”

You feign indifference, shrugging.

“Maybe I’ve just been using better skincare.”

“Bullshit. Spill. Who is it?”

She leans forward, her gaze piercing.

There’s no way you’re telling her. Not about Simon. Not about the fire escape. Not about the way his hands feel against your skin or the things he whispers in the dark.

“No one,”

You say firmly, hoping she buys it.

“And stop projecting your ridiculous love life onto me.”

Ishta squints at you, unconvinced.

“Uh-huh. Sure. For now, you’re off the hook. But mark my words,”

She wags a finger at you.

“I’ll figure it out.”

You laugh nervously, downing the rest of your drink.

You’re grateful for how easily distracted Ishta can be, her attention now fully locked onto the trashy dating show the two of you watch every Thursday. It’s a routine you’d both adopted more for the chance to mock strangers' poor life choices than for any genuine investment in the drama.

Occasionally, she’ll pipe up, her voice dreamy as she recounts the latest romantic gesture from Johnny, her “Mr. Scotsman." She compares him to the guys on TV, and each time, she insists that Johnny does it better. You can almost hear the wistful sigh in her voice as she talks about how much she adores him.

You smile at her, teasing lightly,

“Gonna end up as one of those military wives?”

Ishta laughs, a genuine, carefree sound that rings out in the space between you. She shrugs with mock indifference, but there’s a spark in her eyes.

"Maybe. I mean, he’s a loverboy under all that wildness, but yeah… I’d say I’ve got it bad.”

You smirk at her, shaking your head.

"You’re hopeless."

"And you’re one to talk,”

She fires back, leveling you with a knowing look.

“Sexy British neighbor still got you tied up in knots?”

You scoff, taking a sip of your drink to stall. The wine’s still too sweet, sticking to your tongue, but you focus on the tang that lingers at the edges.

“I’m not ‘tied up’ in anything. Haven't even spoken to him since the noise complaint situation.”

“Riiight.”

She side-eyes you, unconvinced.

“Something tells me that's not entirely true. You get this weird look on your face every time I bring him up.”

You try to keep a straight face.

“Maybe you’re reading too much into things.”

“Uh-huh.”

She leans back, crossing her arms.

“One of these days, I'll catch you slipping.”

You roll your eyes, desperate to redirect her attention.

“I think you’ve had too much wine.”

“Or not enough,”

She shoots back, taking another sip with a knowing smirk. She hums, like she just remembered something important.

“I forgot to tell you, Johnny invited you to come with me to meet his family.”

You make a face of confusion.

“Me? Why?”

“I talk about you a lot, believe it or not you are one of the most important people in my life.”

The statement takes you back a bit, makes you feel a twinge of guilt lying to her.

“But his family?”

“Well…”

She tilts her head, searching for the right words.

“They’re not exactly blood relatives. They’re his squad, I think that’s the term he uses. He trusts them with his life, so he sees them as family—or the closest thing to it. Something like that.”

It’s her turn to hesitate, her fingers absently trailing the stem of her wine glass.

“Anyway, he thought you might want to come along. Besides,” She adds with a grin, peeking up again.

“It'll be fun. Think about it! Drinks, charming military men, and me as your entertainment. What more could you want?”

With Simon in your life, you think to yourself, you find yourself wanting for nothing lately—except maybe a little less suffocating attention.

“Yeah, what more could I want.”

You say aloud, masking the weight of your thoughts with a light laugh.

Ishta beams at your answer,

“That’s the spirit! You’ll see—it’ll be good for you. And hey, if nothing else, you can help me judge Johnny’s friends. Who knows, maybe one of them is a secret disaster like the guys on this show.”

The conversation shifts back to the TV, her playful commentary dragging you out of your head. But even as you nod along, your mind is already working on an escape plan.

You’re just gonna text her some excuse when the day comes. She’ll understand. Probably.

***

“How can you breathe in these?”

You groan, tugging at the waistband of Ishta’s skin-tight leather pants as she twists and wiggles, trying to pull them up.

“Breathing isn’t a priority here.”

She huffs, planting her hands on her hips and giving a final shimmy.

“Looking good is. Besides,”

She admires herself in the mirror.

“Johnny will love it.”

“Yeah, he probably cares more about how easy they’ll be to take off, Ishta.”

She grins, running her hands down the smooth fabric.

“Yeah. My man, the most efficient guy I know.”

You laugh, shaking your head as she strikes a dramatic pose.

“Efficiency—truly the cornerstone of romance.”

“Don’t knock it,”

She quips, spinning around to face you.

“He’s got it down to an art. Makes him a great lover.”

“Ishta.”

“I mean seriously, when I'm running late he knows exactly what to-”

“Ishta!”

“What? Someone has to get laid here, and it sure isn't you!”

You groan in protest, grabbing a throw pillow and launching it at her. She ducks, her laughter ringing out as she returns to inspecting her reflection in the mirror, twisting to check out the back of her pants.

“I think my butt’s getting bigger.”

She declares, completely unfazed.

“Aren’t we running late?”

You ask, exasperated.

“We’re fine. He’s getting us an Uber.”

She replies, adjusting the waistband of her pants with a smug little smile.

“To Brooklyn? Ouuu, big money.”

You tease, rolling your eyes as you grab your bag.

She grins, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“I just got him trained right. I'll show you how to do it when you get your own man. Or woman. Or anyone.”

Before you get to have your say her phone dings, and she grabs her keys.

"C’mon, Uber’s here."

You give her one last look before following her out the door, ready for whatever insanity lies ahead.

***

The bar you stand outside of is dingy and small, a stark contrast to the sleek black SUV Johnny arranged for Ishta and you. You raise an eyebrow, already feeling out of place.

“Are you sure this is the place?”

You ask, rocking side to side in your heels, feet already hurting.

“Too good for it?”

Ishta teases.

“No, just… aren’t we a little overdressed?”

You reply, glancing down at your outfit. Her red-bottoms are going to get ruined by the sticky floors, and your top is way too low-cut for a place like this.

Ishta smirks, giving you a look.

“You’ll be fine. Besides, if anyone stares for too long, the guys will probably scare them off— if they are anything like Johnny describes.”

And so, you step hesitantly into the grungy spot, thinking of what shitty liquor you need to get you through the night.

The bar is dim, louder than you expected, the scent of stale beer and fried food heavy in the air. Ishta leads the way with her usual confidence, weaving through the mismatched tables and chairs. You follow, heels catching on the sticky floor, your stomach tightening as she heads toward a table in the back.

That’s when you see it: the large black hoodie. The person wearing it is turned away, broad shoulders hunched slightly. Something about the way they hold themselves makes your chest tighten. You tell yourself it can’t possibly be him. The odds are ridiculous, almost laughable.

And yet, your feet falter.

Johnny spots Ishta first, lighting up with a grin so wide it makes his eyes crease at the corners, laughter lines deepening across his face. There’s a boyish enthusiasm in the way he waves her over, unrestrained and unabashed, like a pet spotting its owner after a long day apart.

You remember her mentioning once, in passing, that he was born the year of the dog. It’s funny how fitting that feels now. Loyal, eager, a little too earnest. He all but bounces out of his seat, the movement causing a ripple of attention to shift across the table.

The ridiculously pretty man seated next to him glances up first, his expression brightening with easy charm. Across from him, an older man with a beard you could only describe as unnecessarily dramatic turns and nods politely.

Then, the hoodie moves. Your stomach plummets.

Simon.

His expression is unreadable, but the sight of him freezes you in place, and before you realize it, you’re standing there looking like a deer caught in headlights. The rest of the table follows his gaze, looking at you with various degrees of curiosity.

Ishta grabs your arm.

“Oh my God. Girl, is that your man? What’s wrong? You can’t back away now!”

She says in a low voice, dragging you forward before you can recover.

“That is not my man,”

You hiss back, but it does nothing to stop her relentless pull.

Johnny grins as you both approach, his voice warm and thick with his accent.

“Almost scared her off, Ghost.”

Ghost?

Your eyes flick to Simon. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say a word.

Johnny, takes over the introductions.

“This is Simon. Don’t mind him, wasn’t properly socialized as a bairn.”

There’s some shifting around as the group makes room. To your dismay, Simon stays tucked into one side of the booth, leaving Kyle and Price to scoot out. They pull over chairs from a nearby empty table, and you find yourself awkwardly squeezed beside Simon while Ishta takes the seat across from you.

“Finally nice to put a name to the face.”

Ishta beams at Simon, and you can see the faint flicker of amusement in his eyes, though he doesn’t respond. She laughs when Johnny makes a confused face, giving a brief rundown to the table.

“She says you haven't seen each other since that incident.”

Ishta waves her glass in Simon's direction.

Simon leans back in his seat, mask still up.

“Avoids me like the plague, she does. Must’ve left quite the impression.”

Kyle snorts, leaning forward with an amused grin.

“That’s just his thing. Simon’s got a talent for being a nuisance, don’t you, mate? Knows exactly how to make people’s lives hell.”

“Only when they deserve it.”

Simon replies smoothly.

The table chuckles, but you stay quiet. His knee bumps yours under the table and you shoot him a sharp glance. He doesn’t even look your way, focused instead on swirling his drink he hasn't touched. You drink more than you probably should, hoping it’ll dull the awkwardness.

Thankfully, the rest of the table carries on without issue, their conversation flowing easily.

“Military, huh?”

You ask eventually, your voice quieter than intended.

Simon doesn’t look at you, but Johnny leans in with a grin.

“Yeah, we're stationed here for a while, so get used to seeing my handsome face around.”

The ease in his tone does little to settle the tension twisting in your chest. Simon doesn’t so much as flinch, remaining a stoic, unreadable presence. His silence feels deliberate, heavy, but Johnny’s brightness seems determined to lighten the mood.

“Maybe you’ll even get used to this one,”

Johnny adds playfully.

“Though I wouldn’t hold your breath. He’s got the personality of wet cement.”

That makes you laugh a little, along with the rest of the table. Younod toward Simon.

“So… Ghost. That’s a call sign?”

Simon hums, noncommittal, leaving Johnny to fill the silence.

“Wish I got something cool like that,”

Johnny says, shooting Simon a look that’s both teasing and fond.

“Guess he earned it, scary bastard.”

You glance at Simon again. His face gives nothing away.

Ishta leans over and whispers something into Johnny’s ear, her lips brushing against his ear with a playful familiarity. Whatever she says prompts a crooked grin to spread across his face, his blue eyes lighting up with mischief.

The two of them fall into their own little world, lovebirds whispering and laughing softly, entirely lost to anyone else at the table. Their giddy exchange contrasts sharply with the tension simmering between you and Simon.

You shift in your seat, feeling the press of his knee against yours again. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but the contact makes your pulse quicken. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, wondering if it’s intentional. If he notices your reaction, he doesn’t show it.

Across the table, Price and Kyle keep the conversation flowing, their camaraderie effortless. You envy the ease they seem to find in this dynamic, the sense of belonging that eludes you in this moment.

Eventually, you decide to call it a night.

“Think I’ll head out, guys.”

You say, grabbing your bag. You glance toward Ishta, but she’s too busy twirling a strand of Johnny’s hair between her fingers, practically sitting in his lap.

Kyle stands, reaching for his jacket.

“Want me to walk you home, love?”

Before you can answer, Price butts in.

“Think Simon’s closer. Said you're neighbors, right?”

Your mouth goes dry.

“Oh, uh. Yeah.”

“He'll take you home. Don't need Kyle chasing up your dress.”

Simon finally looks at you, dark eyes unreadable. Without another word, he gets up.

***

The train ride back is painfully silent, tension coiling thick between you. Simon doesn’t make small talk, doesn’t fill the awkward space with meaningless words, and you can’t decide if you’re grateful or annoyed.

When you finally reach your apartment, you stop at the door, fumbling with your keys. You unlock it and step inside, turning to offer a polite, “Goodnight.”

Before you can close the door, Simon’s boot wedges into the frame.

“No kiss goodnight?”

He murmurs, pulling down his mask, voice low.

“Do you always have to be like this?”

You mumble, leaning forward and tilting your head up.

“You like it.”

He replies, pressing his scarred lips against your glossed ones.

The kiss lingers in your mind longer than it lasts, the warmth still spreading through your limbs. He pulls away, slipping his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. You stand with the door still open,

“Ok, well, goodnigh-”

“Not gonna invite me in for a drink?”

The way he says it—like he’s giving you the option, but he knows exactly how this game goes—brings a rush of heat to your cheeks.You hesitate for a moment, the weight of the night pressing down on you, but it hits you then—you’ve been waiting for him to make this move. Simon knows exactly how to push just enough, always teetering on the line between being too much and just enough.

You tilt your head, playing the game, your voice teasing.

“I don’t believe in letting strangers into my place, Ghost.”

His jaw tightens at the name, a flash of something flickering behind his eyes, but he recovers quickly, scanning your face with a quiet intensity.

“Hit your head, angel? The name’s Simon, remember?”

“Hmm,”

You cock your head, a playful smirk curling on your lips as you tease,

“Hmm, doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.”

Simon’s expression shifts, eyes narrowing just a fraction as his lips curl into a grin.

“No? Thought you’d remember it with how many times you say it when I’ve got you bent over that couch.”

“Simon!”

You gasp with a smile.

“Glad to see your memories back, love. Had me worried there for a moment.”

His voice drips with smug satisfaction, fingers creeping around your waist as you step backward into your apartment. His movements mirror yours, closing the distance, the same familiar rhythm between you two. Except this time, the dance ends in your bed, bathed in silvery moonlight that filters through the windows, casting shadows and soft glimmers over the room.

What he says to you in that space, the things he says are as depraved as they are tender, sinful words laced with something softer, gentler. And in that moment, you realize they’re the sweetest things Simon is capable of offering.

Lying on his chest, you let your thoughts drift, his sparse chest hair tickling the side of your face. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat drums against your ear as your fingers trace lazy circles on his skin. His hand mirrors yours, gently skimming the small of your back in slow, soothing motions.

You enjoy these moments just aas much as the more heated ones—maybe more. They feel almost domestic, like peeking through the keyhole of something you tell yourself you can’t have. But for now, it’s enough. It fills that quiet loneliness you feel some days.

Simon presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head, his lips lingering there for a beat longer than you expect. It feels like him savoring the closeness he so rarely allows himself.

“Mind if I sleep here tonight?”

His voice low and casual.

Your body goes stiff before you can stop it, and his hand on your back stills.

“Oh,”

You say, forcing a laugh that cracks at the edges.

“Didn’t think you’d grown tired of your bachelor setup. What happened? Mattress on the floor finally giving up on you?”

Simon hums, unbothered, his fingers resuming their lazy path.

“Figured I’d upgrade. You offering?”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you sit up quickly, putting a small but deliberate distance between you.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He doesn’t move, watching you with hooded eyes, his expression calm, unreadable.

“Why not? Thought we were comfortable now.”

His tone is deceptively light, but you can hear the challenge beneath it.

“I don’t sleep well with someone else in the bed,” You say, crossing your arms, covering your bare chest.

“It’s just a thing—I’m used to having my space.”

“Space, huh?”

He sits up and leans back against the wall, hands clasped behind his head, looking entirely too at ease.

“Didn’t seem to need space a few minutes ago, angel.”

You frown, heat rising to your face.

“That’s different. Sleeping is… it’s personal.”

He smirks, tilting his head slightly.

“And what we just did isn’t?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your irritation in check.

“You know what I mean, Simon.”

“Not sure I do,”

His tone is playful, but there’s a stubborn edge to it now.

“Seems to me like you’re just makin’ excuses.”

“I’m not.”

The words come out sharper than you intended. You sigh, running a hand through his short hair, an apology of sorts.

“It’s just… I’m not ready for that.”

“A lil sleepover?”

He tilts his head. Before you can respond, he grabs your face with one hand, his fingers pressing against your cheeks to make your lips pout.

You yank your head away, sucking your teeth in frustration.

“You’re impossible.”

He grins, leaning back against the wall like he’s won something.

“Am I? Or are you just makin’ this harder than it needs to be?”

“Simon,”

You snap,

“It’s not about being hard or easy. It’s about boundaries. Respecting them.”

“Boundaries?”

He raises an eyebrow, the smirk slipping just slightly.

“Since when have we had those?”

Never, you think to yourself. It's a little distressing if you think about it too long, letting a man have such sway on you.

He pulls you closer, his thick arms wrapping around you with an ease that feels as natural as it is intrusive. You don’t resist, though. Instead, your fingers trace the inked lines on his forearm, a distraction, an excuse not to look him in the eye.

“Think you got one more in you?”

His voice is low, dipping into something softer, coaxing.

“I’ll be out your hair after that.”

You can’t help the faint smile that tugs at your lips, even though you hate yourself for giving in so easily. It’s always like this with him—pushing, pulling, finding that sliver of space where you’re weak enough to let him in.

“Yeah,”

You murmur, leaning just slightly into his touch,

“Think I do.”

His lips curve into a grin, satisfied, but he doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he pulls you into his lap. And just like always, he gets exactly what he wants.

Prev | Next

[jeannyjaykaydeh]

Merry Sinsmas (Part 2)

Alastor x Reader

Some of you have asked me if I could write a sequel. So, here it is. I hope you like it. :)

———————————————————————————

And there you are. Directly in front of the radio demon. Under a sprig of mistletoe. And everyone around you is expecting you to kiss him.

Including him.

Smug as he is, he grins down at you. Expecting you to submit to tradition and pressure.

How much you would love to.

How much you would love to give in to it all. Surrender to him.

And the longer you stare into his beautiful, ruby red eyes, the more you realise how incredibly in love with him you are.

But that simply can't be! No! That would be your downfall!

A relationship with Alastor would never have a future. He's a demon - no - he's THE radio demon. Dangerous. Feared.

He murdered people when he was alive. And possibly enjoyed it.

Would he even be capable of love?

"Come on now, doll," Angel urges you on his behalf and on behalf of everyone who is staring at you as intensely as if they were waiting for the show of the year, "it's just a kiss. Nothing wild."

You look to the others.

Charlie grins like a rainbow unicorn that's been eaten up by romance. Vaggie doesn't look like she approves of what's going on, but there's a certain curiosity in her eyes, too. Husk looks like he always does: unmotivated, bored, annoyed.

Niffty has a look of madness in her eye. It's a look that sends a cold shiver down your spine, but her grin reveals that she too wants to see this love that seems to be in the air here in action.

Then you look at Alastor again. He is standing in front of you, in his upright, elegant posture, with his arms behind his back. He probably hasn't even blinked the whole time.

What is he thinking right now? You don't know. You just can't read him.

You sigh. Then you gather all your strength and slowly shake your head.

"No. I don't want to," you say quietly.

Alastor raises an eyebrow. You hear annoyed groans from the others.

"Spoilsport," Angel condemns you with a teasing undertone as he strokes your head once to show that he means no harm by what he says to you.

You walk past Alastor and up the grand staircase to your room.

----------------------

You sit on the large windowsill of your room and gaze thoughtfully through the huge pane of glass, which offers you a breathtaking view of the Pentagram City skyline.

It's hard to believe how beautiful hell can actually be.

Speaking of beautiful: your thoughts wander to Alastor. As so often lately. And even more often since the mistletoe incident.

It was just a few days ago.

Since then, you've hardly dared to leave your room. The whole situation was so unpleasant for you, you just don't know how to deal with it now if you meet Alastor again.

You don't know anything anymore.

Suddenly there's a knock on your bedroom door.

"Yes?" you call out and shortly afterwards the door opens. Angel enters your room and comes towards you.

He sits down next to you on the windowsill.

"Well, little one?" he starts his greeting and gives you a touching smile.

"How much longer are ya going to isolate yourself? Do ya think you can hide in your room for all eternity?"

He chuckles slightly, because as sympathetic as he is to you right now, he also finds your behaviour a little amusing.

You shrug your shoulders: "I don't know. Maybe Alastor will be redeemed one day in four hundred years or so and then I can move around the hotel freely again."

Angel laughs softly. He knows just as well as you do that the idea of Alastor being redeemed is the most unrealistic thing imaginable.

"And what exactly are ya hiding from?" he asks curiously.

You reply: "I have no idea. I guess from embarrassment again."

"And do ya think it was only ya who was embarrassed?"

You look at Angel Dust. Your expression shows surprise and questions in response to his question.

"What do you mean?"

He puts both hands on your shoulders and fixes his gaze on you.

"Y/N," he sighs at your naivety, "sure, maybe it wasn't the most tactful of us to push ya into a corner like that and it's also yer right not to want to kiss someone."

He wipes a strand of hair from your face and continues: "But ya don't seem to realise how much Smiles likes ya. The way he looks at ya every day, that happiness in his eyes, and I could swear his permanent smile at those moments is a genuine smile for once. For months, this buck has been trying to get ya round, which we all notice, and ya keep turning him down. And the expression in yer eyes when ya see him is no different to his. Girl, we don't just see the tension between ya two, we feel it as soon as ye're both in the same room. And it's starting to hurt to watch ya still resisting it, even though it's clear that Alastor is exactly what ya want. Ya both really need to fuck. So please, do it already."

You look at Angel and raise an eyebrow. You can't suppress a slight giggle at his strange speech.

"Oh man, you're out of your mind," you reply jokingly, looking at him with a grin.

He laughs and replies, shaking his head: "Eh, no, YOU are out of your mind. After all, I'm not the one who's stupid enough to have broken the radio demon's heart."

Your laughter stops abruptly and you blink at Angel in surprise: "What? I broke his heart?"

"Absolutely, sweetie! Even if creepy voice master would never admit it, but I think I've known him long enough to realise that he was definitely not happy after yer rejection. Which is understandable, ya embarrassed him like that instead of just pulling yerself together and giving him a fucking kiss."

You broke Alastor's heart? What is Angel talking about? Is it even possible to break this man's heart? Does he even have a heart?

You think about it.

And the more often you replay this scenario in your mind's eye, the clearer it becomes to you how outrageously you behaved towards him.

It wasn't the fact that you didn't want to kiss him that was rude, no, it was that you went against your own feelings. That you treated him so disparagingly and he simply went out of his way to show you what a gentleman he was and that he seemed to be genuinely interested in you.

And that you don't admit to yourself how much you're in love with him, even though that's exactly what he deserves.

An uneasy feeling spreads through your chest. It's pity. Pain.

Poor Alastor!

Suddenly you leap from your windowsill and walk resolutely towards your bedroom door.

"Hey, what are ya doing?" Angel calls after you, curious and puzzled.

"Throwing myself into embarrassing situations," you answer him and hurry out of your room.

-----------------------

You hurry down the stairs into the lobby - Angel is right behind you.

As expected, you find the others there: Charlie, Vaggie, Niffty, Husk - and Alastor. They are all busy preparing the Hazbin Hotel for the next upcoming celebration: The New Year's Eve party.

Charlie and Vaggie are decorating, Niffty is cleaning, Husk is setting up the bar and Alastor is standing there in his usual elegant pose with both hands on his staff, giving instructions to his shadow demons, who are eagerly lending a hand.

You walk purposefully towards the radio demon - he doesn't notice you at first and when his gaze finally falls on you, it's too late for him to react, because you stand in front of him quite quickly, immediately grab the man by the collar of his coat, pull him down to you and press a short but intense kiss to his lips.

And his lips feel really good! Wow!

As you break away from him, you hear the brief, startled static and his wide eyes, which stare at you briefly but quickly return to their arrogant state. Alastor's grin widens slightly as he looks down at you.

"WOOOOOH!" cheers Angel, clapping his hands. Charlie joins in, Niffty claps along and Vaggie and Husk just stand there with their mouths open, as if they can't believe what's just happened.

Just like you.

Because only now do you really realise what you've done.

Why did you do that?

You look at Alastor, astonished and confused. Your own action has left you speechless, but you can see from the look on his face that he is waiting for an explanation.

"That- um," you start to stammer, "well, I still owed you a kiss... Because, about, um. Mistletoe and all that."

You pause for a moment as you notice Alastor looking at you with a raised eyebrow, amused at the way you're stammering.

You take a deep breath, then start again. With a serious expression and an honest look in his eyes, you say: "Al, I'm very bad at this sort of thing. Romantic gestures in public can really put me off and I generally have massive commitment issues. But the fact is that I kind of like you and I've realised that I should jump over my own shadow and give it a chance between us."

And that's where you stand now: with your trousers metaphorically down. You've poured your heart out in public and shown your weakness to the guy you should never show your weakness to. Your pulse is rising. The stress level in your head is high. You can feel the blush creep into your cheeks and take on the colour of his coat.

There is a brief but uncomfortable silence between you. So uncomfortable that it seems like hours, even though it's only a few seconds.

Alastor looks down at you with a surprised expression and a frozen grin.

And then the radio demon suddenly bursts out: "Hohohoho! Now that's what I call a surprise. Tell me, my dear, how are you feeling right now? Judging by your red cheeks, this must be more unpleasant for you than the moment I confronted you with the mistletoe."

Wait a minute! What?!

Horror spreads across your face. And questions. That's not the reaction you were expecting.

Well, actually, that's exactly the reaction you'd expect from Alastor.

But then again, you assumed that you had broken his heart.

"W- why are you laughing?" you ask meekly and anxiously.

You feel a little stupid right now.

Alastor tries to get his laughter under control again to give you an answer.

He puts a hand on your shoulder and replies: "Sweetheart, what makes you think you've hurt me? Me? Because of some pathetic mistletoe? Haha! Oh, that's downright hilarious!"

Your gaze falls on Angel Dust. "You said that-"

Angel grins sheepishly and replies, "Oh come on. As if I or any other cock here knows what's going on in Radiodaddy's head. Alastor's a walking enigma and he'll always be one."

So Angel just made it all up to get you to finally take the initiative. He just wanted to see you kiss the radio demon.

Furious, you shout at him: "YOU ASSHOLE!"

"Well, ah, ah! My dear! Watch your choice of words," Alastor admonishes you, "look on the bright side: you've finally managed to come out of your shell and now I know what's really going on inside you and that my advances weren't in vain."

You bury your face in your hands.

Then this difficult step that you finally managed to take was completely in vain.

Fuck!

You're so embarrassed.

----------------------

It's New Year's Eve. The party at the Hazbin Hotel is in full swing. Everyone is drunk out of their minds.

You're having an incredible amount of fun together, the music is good and the games Charlie has come up with amuse everyone who joins in.

But at some point, like at any party where alcohol is flowing, you feel the need for some fresh air - if you can call those smelly fumes that are spreading through hell fresh.

You excuse yourself and go out the door. You look down from the hill at the city lights and can hear the other inhabitants of Pentagram City celebrating from a distance.

You put your cup, which is filled with a sugary cocktail, to your lips and take a big sip.

You realise that you are already very woozy.

Suddenly you notice a hand moving out of the corner of your eye towards the cup at your mouth and taking it away from you.

"Hey!" you exclaim and are startled when you see Alastor next to you.

He shakes his head with mock indignation and says: "Oh, my little deerling, don't you ever learn from your mistakes? You barely manage to get through a day without embarrassment and then you still dare to pour yourself full of alcoholic drinks."

He takes a look at your cup, raises an eyebrow sceptically, takes a quick sniff and then grimaces in disgust. Cocktails really aren't his thing.

But the glass filled with whisky he's holding in his other hand is his thing.

You may be well drunk, but you still have the ability to notice that the radio demon is in the same mood.

He's trying to mask it and continue to maintain his mysterious, elegant demeanour, but it's clear he's having a pretty hard time of it right now.

"Well," you reply, shrugging your shoulders, "I've got nothing to lose now anyway."

"Hmmm," the man hums happily and slightly judgementally to himself. Then he says: "Do you know what your problem is, my dear?"

"You?"

A short laugh escapes him.

"Ah, hahaha. Hilarious. Oh yes."

He likes your joke, but feels a little offended at the same time, which is revealed by the dark undertone behind his laughter.

He continues: "You're trying too hard. Either you don't want to stand out or, if you fail to do so, you're trying far too hard to avoid the centre of attention."

"I see," you reply sceptically, "and what would be your advice for me?"

"Advice?" he asks in mock surprise, "hahaha! No, I don't have an advice at all. Oh no, little doe, I'm having incredible fun seeing you so pathetic. I'm just taking advantage of it."

You grimace. Anger rises in you. You turn your gaze away from him, cross your arms in front of your chest and stare silently into the distance.

And suddenly Alastor says something that throws you completely off course: "But I don't want to be like that, because - as you probably already know - I like you too. My advice would probably be that you should learn more from me. As Angel said a few days ago: I'm an enigma. None of you deluded souls could have guessed that you hurt me with your rejection on Christmas Day. Because none of you would have believed me capable of it."

Your gaze wanders to him again. You look at him, shocked and surprised by his words.

He's just openly said that he likes you? And has he just admitted that you hurt him after all?

Is he serious? Or is he just taking the piss?

Or is that perhaps the alcohol talking?

"So I did hurt you after all?" you ask without restraint.

He narrows his eyes menacingly and replies: "I hope you realise that this will stay between us, right?"

A warmth spreads through your chest - and it's definitely not the alcohol - and you're overcome with joy.

So he really likes you.

He seems to have a genuine interest in you.

And jumping over your shadow was not in vain.

Now you know: You are ready! Ready to embrace this feeling. Ready to get involved in a new relationship. Ready to get involved with this man.

A smile plays around your lips and you look at him in love.

"Ah, that smile suits you beautifully, my dear. You should show it to me more often," Alastor comments on your facial expressions with a warm look as he puts his hand on your cheek.

"I'm sorry that I hurt you at Christmas, Al," you whisper, looking intently into his eyes.

His smile widens a little, then he turns on his heel towards the door and holds out his elbow for you to hook onto.

"Let's go back inside, my dear. The evening is still young and the party is too good to miss. And believe me when I tell you that I know a thing or two about a good party. There was never a better party than in the Roaring Twenties. Ahaha!"

You catch up with him and you walk towards the hotel door together.

Alastor opens it and holds it open for you - like the gentleman he is.

You walk past him and enter the lobby. Alastor follows you, he walks upright and elegantly with his arms behind his back. He walks right behind you into the hotel and suddenly you feel him lean down a little and whisper in your ear:

"It's midnight in two hours, sweetheart. And you know by now that I'm a man of tradition. Where I come from, it's customary to kiss at the turn of the year, otherwise it's bad luck in the new year."

You look him in the eyes and giggle. A suggestive smile spreads across your lips and you reply while winking at him: "Don't worry. Unlike mistletoes, the New Year's Eve custom also exists in my home country."

@stattikdemon @coffeesefied

[buck-star]

OOO OOO OOO! Pick me pick me!! 😂 Drabble of?? Get this! Logan and reader opening gifts from each other and she gets like a necklace with an L on it right? And he thinks it’s cringe bc he didn’t know what else to get her and she just basically throws herself at him with a hug 🤗 you don’t have to :)) I still love u ❤️

Thank you for the request. It’s such a cute idea and I hope you like it. Love you too, and hope you love Logan now even more.🙂‍↕️❤️

Masterlist | Holiday game

“It might be…” Logan stops himself when he watches you unwrap the little box in your hands. He inhales deeply, his hands sweaty as he runs them through his hair. His green eyes studying every one of your movements. “If you don’t like it, we can get you something else.”

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, your eyes moving up to meet Logan’s. The soft smile on your lips makes his heart beat faster, and for a moment he forgets everything around the two of you.

“Whatever it is, what you got me, I will love it,” you say, putting the wrapping paper away. In your hands you hold a small, blue box. You look down at it, reading the words that are printed on the top of it. ‘Merry Christmas, bub.’

“How do you know?” Logan asks, shaking his head slightly. When he first saw the present and bought it, he was sure it was the most beautiful and precious thing he could give you. But the more he thought about it, he wasn’t sure if it was that good or if you would feel like he wants to own you — what he definitely doesn’t want to.

“Because it’s from you. You thought about something to give me that’s more important than anything else. And you never got me anything that I didn’t like before, so I don’t think this will be any different." You assure him, opening the small box. Your jaw drops immediately, and your eyes widen when you see the necklace placed perfectly in there.

It’s not just any necklace; it’s a golden one with a ‘L’ dangling down.

Logan shifts, swallowing thickly. Do you like it? Do you hate it? He isn’t sure, and that makes him squirm even more; maybe he should have bought you an oversized hoodie and sprayed some of his perfume on it.

“I’m sorry, I should have thought better than giving you something that could show ownership… I didn’t mean to make it look like th—“ Logan whispers under his breath, ready to apologize further for the stupid gift he got you. Though it isn’t as bad as he thinks, it’s not even bad at all.

“This is—“ you blink away the tears that burn in your eyes. A smile creeping onto your lips as you look up at your boyfriend. “It’s the most beautiful and personal gift you could possibly give me.”

Logan frowns until you throw yourself into his lap and giggle. Only then he notices that this is the perfect present. A necklace with his letter on it, no ownership, just the love he feels shown in another way than saying it out loud or affection. Now, it’s shown in a way so everyone knows that you’re his in the most beautiful way possible.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @fandomxo00 @blackhawkfanatic (add yourself.)

[3cremepie3]

Airhead part 2

Leona x female reader 18+ smut

Sypnopsis - You really need your grades up and this time you ask the lazy genius Leona to help you.

Warnings - degradation, words like sl3t and whore, spit, hair pulling, orgasm denial

A/n - I forgot about this serious 🌚. I’m so sorry I pledge to finish it. Read part 1 here

“I know you were smart enough to get that fancy internship. Come on wake up.” You stood in front of Leona’s foot of the bed. It was huge a Californian king all for him but still he was sprawled in a corner napping.

He just groaned as you called out to him. It took you a lot to sneak to his quarters many of the beast-men on their tails when they saw you. You made an array of lies to get to his room, like you were hired to clean up his room or do his laundry.

But your efforts seemed to be worth nothing as Leona barely moved. “Well I’m not leaving until you help me. I’ll stay in this spot all day," you insisted! You planted yourself on your butt next to his bed. He snored away not caring about your intrusion.

You were getting sleepy yourself since you stayed up all night sewing a mini dress for yourself. You were wearing it now playing with the lace ruffles as Leona’s tail that was swaying softly hit your face. You grabbed it out of curiosity and watched as he stirred in his sleep a little bit.

It was then when you got a devious idea. One he would surely slap you for. You grabbed his tail again but this time you yanked it roughly. Leona roared as his tail slapped in the face. He woke up his body still groggy from sleep.

“What the fuck do you want?” You know what I want it's for you to help me study,” you said. “So, you came to my room dressed in this slutty outfit and poked a sleeping lion to study,” he asked.

“This outfit isn't slutty I made it myself it’s just a bit revealing,” you argue. “Yeah right I bet you can’t bend down without me seeing your panties,” he challenges. You knew what you were doing when you attempted to touch your toes. You even did a little shake as your dress lifted off your ass.

He could see your pussy print through your plain hipsters which made him lick your lips. You got back up slowly letting the effect take place. “Hmm maybe you are right,” you admitted. “It’s a bit shorter than expected,” you said. “It’s still not covering your ass.” Leona said pulling down the fabric as always, he overestimated his strength and the whole top of your dress came down to compensate for your short bottoms.

You scoffed your chest being revealed to Leona he gasped before smirking. “Dumbass!” You squealed covering your boobs with your hands. “Haha sorry,” he laughed. You blushed as he fell back onto his bed.

“God you’re so ditsy Y/n. Did you even pass the second grade,” he asked. “You literally stayed back last year I don’t want to hear anything,” you seethed. “Baby girl that was by choice I don’t want to go back home.”

“Especially when there’s plenty of fine shits like you around.” He grabbed your wrist pulling you beside him. “Looking at those pretty tits just got me hard. How about I give you all the textbooks answers and we have a little fun,” he proposed.

You shook your head instantly. “That sounds like a great deal to me baby,” you giggled. You hopped into bed with him. Your dress was soon lifted over your head leaving you in nothing but your panties and bra. "Come on put on a little show for me," he insisted.

You turned around and arched up slowly pulling your panties down your soft things. Leona groaned seeing your slit and ass on full display. His rough hands kneaded your ass like dough. You twerked back into his hold. "That right my dirty girl work for those answers." He slapped your ass and watched it giggle.

You crawled slowly to him swinging your ass in either direction as you held your arch. You stopped right in-between his legs. Your hands traced up your sides then to your back unclasping your bra. He licked his lips seeing how the fell once they dropped. You giggled as his hands met your waist.

"Wanna use your tits lay back," he directed. You lay back on his many pillows sinking down into his mattress. He knelt either legs near your head. He pulled down the boxers he was previously sleeping in and revealed his cock. It was a bit like the other beast-men you had delt with only this time much bigger.

He pulled out some oil from his nightstand and spilled it all over your tits and torso. You moaned as the liquid was massaged all over you. You were so shiny you could be mistaken as reflective. His hands gripped your slippery mounds bringing them to engulf is cock in their natural warmness.

You felt like a hot pack as he used you. Your hands stayed at his side as he moved your body. "Every inch of your body must be fuckable because damn this feels good," he grunted. You just watched him silently as his head rolled backwards.

"Way better than a fucking fleshlight." He pinched your nipples sending waves down to your pussy. And even though you hated Leona and were just using him you couldn't help but admit he was incredibly sexy. The way his brows creased as he thrusted upwards had you humping on nothing.

Your hands couldn't help but find themselves in your heat. You felt his precum drip over your nipple as he rubbed his tip over it. You eyed the knot at the bottom of his dick and wished it was in you. You could smell the musky smell of his dick the further up he moved.

You couldn't resist your spit dribbling down on his tip. Once you saw how that made his ears twitch you bent your head down and let your tongue drag across it. He was getting double the stimulation now. "You're such a damn whore," he bit his lips trying to hold back.

He gripped your scalp harshly making your scalp tingle as your lips were invaded with his dick. He released inside a bit before pulling out and spilling out all over your oiled up tits. He pulled his briefs back up and crawled back into his original corner.

"You're not gonna make me cum," you ask appalled. "I got sleepy just be glad I'm giving you the answers." You rolled your eyes at his pettiness "Fine then where are the answers even at?" Check my schoolbag."

You went in his satchel to reveal only one of the textbooks you needed. "Leona I need four of these books you only have one." Well ill guess you'll have to beg me for answers another time," he smirked. "You're such an ass," you scoffed. "Not my fault your such an airhead he chuckled.

[originalgenshinscenarios]

Heya! Your writing looks pretty nice hehe! Don't mind me asking for something a little special!

How about Yandere!Kujou Sara with a shy, timid reader? Perhaps the reader is scared of her at first, but once they start to slowly open up, she starts getting endeared and attached? I hope you have fun with this idea!

I did have a lot of fun with it. I didn't exactly see Sara as a possible yandere type until I started thinking of this scenario- even though I think I could do it better. I just can't tell what would I need to change to be honest.

Yandere! Sara with a timid S/O

Cw: manipulation

Reader here is: Gender neutral

Disclaimer: everything in purple text is Sara's narrative so these notes especially aren't meant to be taken seriously. This is not healthy. This entire scenario isn't showing a healthy relationship. Nor is it gloryfing it.

At first she didn't pay any attention to you. Your lives bearly ever crossed and you liked it that way. She was... A bit terrifying.

Her cold glare, her strictness. It was just hard to see past it. It's like she was allergic to smiling.

But fate has it that it likes to mess around. Things changed, slightly but they did either way.

You were helping a friend out run a stall during a festival. It was pretty hard for you given how you didn't want to interact with people.

Luckily, you didn't have to do much around the customers... Until your friend went to take a break.

You were all by yourself. Eventually you were yelled at by a customer and just as luck would have it- Sara was passing by.

Seeing that person cause a ruckus she stopped that person without even second of hesitation.

She was your hero, and you couldn't thank her enough. The way you held onto her hand shaking, your eyes avoiding hers as if she'd turn you into stone if you dared to look... It was captivating.

There was just something in the way you acted. She couldn't put a finger on why was that... But she wanted to feel that again. Even if it meant placing you in an uncomfortable situation once more.

She started following you. You were unaware of it but your gut told you something was off. Your friends dismissed it as you being too paranoid and that nothing was wrong.

And they were right to think that, after all she was only looking out for you. In time, you'll see that. It was normal for Sara to walk around Inazuma so any place you "accidentally" bumped into her felt natural.

Eventually you started interacting more with each save. Her black wings almost looked like that of an angel to you. She was happy when you started to actually talk... Even if neither of you knew what to talk about exactly. But it was fine as long as you looked only at her.

Whenever you smiled at her she felt things unlike any other... But she liked whenever she made you feel safe much more. She wanted you to rely on her.

She loved feeling useful. You had to have her by your side or else you wouldn't know how to function.

She was attached to a point where she took you everywhere. She didn't want to be away for even a moment. At first you just thought it was because of the fact that you freshly started dating... But it was only partly the reason.

You didn't want to see her wrongs. You were so focused on the times she helped you, you didn't think about how toxic she was becoming. Then again, how is keeping you safe toxic? Sure sometimes she overreacted but that's because she loved you.

[k3nz1ekorn]

Jayvik actor au- first meeting

There’s a new show airing based on the popular video game League of Legends! Filming has just started and while it’s the first day on set, it’s also the first meeting of costars Joel and Vlad, set to play Jayce and Viktor. 

DIsclaimer: obviously I do not own the game League of Legends or any of the characters. Because this is an au some of them are going to be very out of character but this entire au is self indulgent for me so idrc. Hope you enjoy tho! also I have no idea how acting or set lots work and I have no intention of looking those specifics up for this, if that bothers you feel free to correct any inaccuracies in a comment!

Vlad was nervous to say the least. It wasn’t as if he was an inexperienced actor, just that this was a pretty big role for him. Big budget, some big names, a huge video game company, and he got to play one of the main male roles? Yeah no he definitely didn’t want to fuck this one up. He took a breath before opening the car door and stepping out onto the pavement, the frigid air surrounding him was a strong contrast to the heated car he’d just been in. He should definitely find his trailer fast, his knee did not like the cold. He slung his bag over his shoulder with ease and grabbed his cane out of the car with his opposite hand before shutting the door and starting down the path to the lot, 24B it was? Everything was busy, he noted, costumes and mechanical equipment moving around him this way and that. His head was almost on a constant swivel to make sure nobody was about to knock him off his feet, ducking and weaving here or there to make sure the stray props and cart wheels didn’t take him out. He was actually quit good at it all things considered.

“Coming through, heavy equipment!” He heard from his right, and it seemed as if he spoke a bit too soon. His efforts seemed to be in vain because as the cart had almost passed him, the wheel went over a rock and the boom mic jostled. Just enough in fact to blindside him with a bop right on the forehead. He stumbled backward for a second before a pair of very large hands were steadying him. He groaned lightly for a second before blinking a few times. A broad chest was in front of him when his eyes regained focus, squinting in confusion he looked to the hand on his arm, before following it up to find- Oh. Oh wow. 

“You alright there?” He was broken out of his very minor trance by the new voice, deep and gravely. He blinked a few more times before letting out a cough, taking a small step away, and responding.

“YES! Yes I’m fine, thank you for the concern though.” He gave a chuckle and a small smile as he finished readjusting his bag. He took a moment to look over this new person, and yes his initial observation was oh so correct. He was so very good looking. Vlad preferred his men a bit more rugged truth be told, usually a beard or longer hair, but all things considered this stranger was striking. He started to move to introduce himself when the man spoke again.

“Good, I’ll be on my way then. ‘Scuse me.” He gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and slipped past him. Vlad turned to watch him walk away for a moment before giving a small huff. Not even a name to put to a face, huh. With a shake of his head he carefully continued on.

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After arriving at his destination and getting settled into his trailer it was time to get down to business. Hair and makeup flew by in a breeze with the help of a quick coffee, and costumes had been fitted to perfection previously. He admitted he looked quite good in this one, the lace up sides of the vest did wonders for his already nice figure. With one more look in the mirror he gave himself a nod and picked up his script and cane before descending the custom ramp out of his trailer. Immediately he was met with his assistant, Skylar. She handed him his second coffee of the day and he adjusted so he was holding it in the same hand as his smaller copy of the script. They settled into a comfortable pace as they made their way towards the set. She went over a few key notes on the way there.

“So your first scene today is set in the aftermath of when the character Jayce’s apartment blew up, you’re almost grilling him on why, how, yada yada, asking questions, being snarky, etc. okay? Should be fairly easy for you. Your counterpart for this scene is Joel Torres, he’s already on set. He filmed a few other scenes already today so he’s already all warmed up and ready to jump into it.” She seemed almost anxious? Exasperated? It was hard to tell with her sometimes. “Other staff have said he’s a bit…cold? Just don’t take it personally if he doesn’t take to you immediately, is what I’m getting at, mmkay?” Vlad scoffed a bit at that. He never took it personally when people didn’t like him, if they were coworkers he did like to be cordial at least. It was just better for the production and flow of things that way. 

“That will not be a problem, I am a professional in the art of not speaking,” that definitely earned him a skeptical look, “and I’m caffeinated now, highly I might add, so whatever this Joel does or does not say is eh…water off the head? Is that the saying? It’s some kind of body part, yes?”

“Well yeah, but it’s-”

“Fantastic, onto the important issue, did you discuss what their potential relationship is building to with anyone on the production team? I know of my own interpretation, but this script it…leaves you guessing some, no?” He held up the papers before taking a sip of his overly sweet coffee and raising his eyebrow in question. She pulled her mouth into an almost grimace and sucked in through her teeth.

“So I did ask, and they said it was meant to end up brotherly almost? Like by the end of the season?” she shot him a sideways glance as she mirrored his movement to drink from her own cup. “If you’re able you can always talk to Mr. Torres and discuss how you both would want to portray the relationship.” Vlad gave a hum in response as they continued on their way. A bright head of pink hair came into view as they got closer. It was a shorter girl, probably one of the female leads? She was leaning on a table with a donut in one hand. In front of her stood a taller woman with deep blue hair, immediately he was able to recognize her as Cathrin Kristy. The shorter one caught his gaze and gave a small wave and a smile, with her mouth full of course. Cathrin turned with a raised eyebrow before giving a polite smile and a nod in acknowledgement. Vlad copied the move to both of them before turning his attention back to Skylar to finish their briefing. The set came into view and he stopped at the edge of it to give everything a brief once over. He turned side to side a bit to fully take it in and get used to his new surroundings before stopping dead in his tracks and giving a slight smirk to himself.

Well hello again handsome. Sitting just a few feet away was the same man he bumped into not even two hours ago, clad in the same ‘Academy uniform’ as the costume department had called it. This must be Joel then, the cold demeanor he’d encountered earlier certainly fit the description Skylar had been telling him about. “One moment Sky, I’ll be back.” He heard her make some kind of annoyed confused sound as he walked away, right up to his new coworker. He appeared to be reading over the script, they were about to film a new scene after all so it made sense. He takes a moment to fully look at him as he approaches. Even under the uniform he can make out thick muscles, beautiful tanned skin on his clean shaven face and oh those hands. His hair was slicked back, not perfect though, an artistically styled messy to give the illusion of disarray while keeping the clean cut illusion the character had. As he’s just a few feet away the other man glances up at him, he squints his eyes a bit as if in confusion before recognition settles in and he lifts his head to acknowledge him. Vlad opens his mouth to speak before he stops, he’s not too far in front of the other but at a comfortable distance for a couple of strangers. He doesn’t plan to be strangers for much longer though. “Well hello again, quite a surprise to see you here. It seems our paths have crossed once again. I admit I didn’t mind the first, but this one is definitely preferred. I’m Vladamir, you may call me Vlad though if you’d like.” He reaches out a hand in front of him. His counterpart takes a glance down at his hand with a raised brow before setting down his script. He looks back up at Vlad’s eyes before taking his hand to give it one firm shake. Dear gods he’s strong…and those eyes- his train of thought is cut short as the other finally speaks. 

“Joel. Just Joel.” He retracts his hand and places it in his lap to intertwine his fingers with the other one. There’s silence as they just stare for a moment, and he thinks he may imagine Joel taking the time to give Vlad a once over, he really hopes he isn’t blushing too hard. Vlad brings his hand back to his side and tilts his head with a light smirk, as he opens his mouth to speak again a bell rings. They both turn their heads as they hear the director call them to places. Vlad gives a light hum before he turns back to Joel once more.

“I believe they need us on set then, shall we?” he doesn’t wait for an answer as he turns and walks to his place. He definitely doesn’t imagine it when he hears a deep exhale and the shuffling of papers behind him before any footsteps follow. 

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“What happened here?” Vlad gets into character easily, this is a fun one for him after all. He turned and gave a wave of his hand, his cane clicking on the ground with ease, it helped that it was fitted to actually be the right height for him.

“Science I guess?” ‘Jayce’ says. This character is very different from him, he could tell as much from the script alone. The actress for Grayson says their line easily, moving out of the way for ‘Viktor’ to approach. He furrows his brows as he turns back to ‘Jayce’ and continues with his line.

“Nor was this approved by the Academy. Who authorized your research?” He says pointedly, he takes care to not kick any of the prop debris as he makes his way over to the other, acting as if he hasn’t had the last twenty minutes to look over the set before they started shooting.

“It was an independent study. Who are you anyway?” he shoots back accusingly as he looks up at him.  Vlad has to force down the immediate urge to look back into his eyes, scrutinizing the blackboard for a moment more.

“I’m assistant to the dean of the Academy, who it may serve you to remember is also the head of the council.” With that he finally looks at ‘Jayce’ again, they lock eyes for a brief second and it almost feels like he stopped breathing. Almost. He is a great actor after all. He breaks eye contact to look back at the board and it feels easy to breathe again, “He sent me here to ensure that anything dangerous is removed safely.” More glancing at the room, anything really to avoid looking into those eyes again. “Which, according to my list, includes you.”

“What!?” More eye contact, it’s brief this time thank the gods. “How am I dangerous?”

“Uh, that is for the council to decide.” He holds the focus of those beautiful golden eyes for barely another second before looking at ‘Grayson’ as she drops the handcuffs into view. ‘Jayce’ hangs his head in defeat and then the shrill bell signals the end of the scene and he glances back at Joel, who had quickly gotten up to listen to feedback from the director. They make eye contact again and Joel raises a thick brow at him. Vlad quickly turns away to hide his blush and busies himself with going over his lines for the scene again with Skylar, making little notes for himself for the next take. This is going to be a long show for sure.

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A Bonus for this one:

When Joel gets back to his trailer for lunch he sits at the booth and lets a long sigh overtake him before he throws his head against the back of his seat. His hand covers his eyes before he pinches the bridge of his nose. All he can picture are those beautiful eyes looking back at him in nearly every scene he shot today. Letting his head drop forward again he removes his hand and glances down at the script. Nearly every scene with him huh? He lets out a defeated chuckle, yep. He’s fucked.

Author’s notes: Wow so I whipped this out in about 5 hours with leftover Christmas mimosa supplies. Literally can’t wait to add Mel in. Don’t know when but I will because I love her so much.

[virtueofsanityx]

the evening bleeds into a kind of hazy blur, with the only real thing of note, at least to reggie, being the way that halfway through another movie, dmitri is grumbling and moving them around and putting reggie in his lap, causing his face to flare too red in the dim light of the room to see. he's already moved on from being called baby so easily, because if he thinks about that for too long, it's going to become more of a problem than it already has and it won't matter how loose his sweatpants are, dmitri is going to notice that problem sooner rather than later.

it's much easier to breathe though it, to allow the other man to move him around until he's comfortable and then find comfort himself, head resting nicely in a spot on the other man's shoulder that seems to fit it perfectly, an arm tossed loosely around his middle and pointedly ignoring the way that his body reacts to every single touch of gentle fingers against his skin. he wonders if dmitri is tracing out the scars on his torso, littered there from years of his work, burns and cuts and all manner of job hazards that he signed up for, but that live on his skin like a tapestry of all the danger he's put himself in for others over the years.

its a peaceful kind of quiet while reggie loses track of the movie on the screen, eyes glazing over and staying closed for longer and longer as he blinks, ready to soak up all of this heat and simply fall asleep here in dmitri's arms, wondering if it's the only time it'll ever happen, if he can find more ways to angle this exact scenario in the future.

wondering if it might feel even nicer without all of the clothes between them.

he can feel himself all but asleep when the other man's gruff voice drags him back from the brink of it, and he has to blink his eyes open more than once to force them to stay that way, but the look in dmitri's eye is like a shot of adrenaline, and his world is shifting before he can come to grips with it, once more sitting up in the other man's lap, hands falling against his shoulders to steady himself as he feels that all too familiar tightness in those loose sweatpants while he's ground down into the other man.

this is... certainly not a bad feeling. teeth close tightly around his bottom lip to quiet any sound that might try to slip out of him while eyes dart all around dmitri's face, trying to interpret whatever this quiet, simmering anger he's reading there could be about. they'd been enjoying the movies, content and quiet, and now.

are you gonna fuck him?

reggie feels like he should know better than to laugh, but one slips out, the kind of nervous chuckle that sounds more like a quick release of air than some deep, chesty laugh. what is he supposed to say? how could he possibly answer that question without showing his entire hand and blowing the lines of their friendship clear out of the water. but he also knows something else. testing dmitri's thin patience when he's clearly already upset is probably a worse idea than trying to tiptoe around it.

"you're an absolute doorknob, you know that?" it's not a smart opening line, to be sure, but another one those airy little chucles slips out under the words, and hands move slowly from where they've landed on his shoulders, up and up to cup his face, nervous and shaking slightly with the weight of what he knows he's about to say.

alarm bells are ringing in his head, but this is a now or never kind of situation.

"i would like to. right now, actually, since he has me in his lap and keeps grinding me down on his cock, but i'll have to ask him." he takes a moment of silence to let those words really sink in, to hammer home the point he's trying to make before he continues. "do you want to fuck? i know i'm busy pining over here, but since it's come up..."

When I'm with you, I feel safe.

Dmitri loves a good shot of adrenaline; it's been the fuel keeping him alive since forever, the very pulse giving his chaos purpose. But no thrill-seeking rush had ever prepared him for how easily a certain close friend could make his heart flutter pathetically, achingly, with just a few words. Reggie feeling safe with him wasn’t totally surprising; that had always been a given. Dmitri made sure of it. Even on the days when he worried he was too much, too intense, too overwhelming... he fought to temper himself. Practicing restraint wasn’t easy, but it never conflicted with his deepest need: to be the kind of man Reggie could rely on. It was strange, though. Dmitri liked to think his dearest friends all understood that he had a heart, even if it was battered, bloodied, and drawn to the darker sides of life. Beneath the grit and muck, he would protect every single one of them without hesitation. But Reggie? He was more----- something precious, someone Dmitri instinctively wanted to shield and hold close, no matter the cost.

He studies Reggie’s face intently as the heartfelt compliments come out spilling, each one hitting him with a rare and unexpected warmth. It’s nice, comforting, even, to hear the kind of words he’s not used to, an almost sacred acknowledgment that feels foreign but cherished. Sure, people always praised his prowess in the ring----- called him unstoppable, powerful, relentless. The status of champion wasn’t given lightly; stepping into a fight with him was agreeing to go to war. But then there’s Reggie, speaking softly, cutting through all that toughness with words like safe and funny, comparing Dmitri’s presence to something familiar and comfortable. It’s disarming in the best way, and Dmitri can’t remember the last time his heart felt like this----- melting into something unrecognizable, something softer, all because of Reggie. And damn if it isn’t the sweetest, most bewildering thing to happen to him.

"...I mean, you did forget to mention my devastatingly good looks, my charm, how sexy these abs are," he teases, a wicked grin tugging at his lips as he picks up a gingerbread cookie from the Santa-themed plate. He leans in, pressing the cookie gently to Reggie’s lips in a playful gesture to feed him. "Nah, you nailed it, baby. Thanks for that." Baby. The pet name slips out abruptly, catching him off guard, but Dmitri refuses to overthink it. It’s not like it’s a big deal. He’s definitely thrown out ridiculous ass nicknames with his girl friends before, and though that wasn’t exactly his and Reggie’s thing, it felt natural enough in the moment. An innocent slip. Nothing worth dissecting.

The movie plays on, finishes, and Dmitri starts another without hesitation. He’s perfectly content to zone out to these feel-good films, where everything somehow always wraps up neatly in the end. Each sip of his spiked eggnog delivers a warm buzz, the dark rum softening the edges of his thoughts, leaving the sweet and spicy notes lingering on his lips. But as the night drifts on and they both grow lazier, Dmitri starts noticing how cramped they are, their limbs awkwardly tangled on the couch. Arms brush, knees bump gently---- small, accidental touches that only highlight the unspoken tension between them, the quiet pull to get closer. It's that tempting line they’ve always danced around but never dared to cross…

Until Dmitri apparently loses his goddamn mind and says, "Can you move over so I can stretch out my damn legs? Couch hog." The words come out teasing but laced with a gruff tiredness. Before Reggie can even react, Dmitri grabs him by the wrist, strong grip guiding him effortlessly. With a deliberate pull, he situates Reggie squarely onto his lap, settling him against the warmth of his solid thighs. Dmitri doesn’t stop there, snatching the nearby quilt, tossing it over them both with a practiced ease. Then he leans back, pulling Reggie down with him, annnnnd just like that----- problem solved. Cramped discomfort gets replaced by a cocoon of shared heat and closeness. So much better.

He's completely lost track of the holiday film playing on the screen----- something about a modern, comedic twist on Pride & Prejudice set during the winter season. Dmitri’s attention drifts lazily to the movie for a moment, his gaze half-lidded and unfocused, before the comforting haze of the moment pulls him back. His hands, callused but gentle, find their way beneath the edge of Reggie's tank top, fingertips tracing slow, deliberate paths along the curve of his spine. The touch remains soft, soothing, a natural extension of the peaceful warmth that’s settled between them. But then, like a sharp shard of glass piercing his serene thoughts, a sudden, unwelcome realization takes hold------ one he’d love to blame on the wicked influence of rum. Why the hell couldn’t he have both? A close friend and a lover. Why did it always have to fucking be one or the other?

Why did it always have to be him who had to settle, to compromise? Meanwhile, Reggie seemed so willing to give his heart to someone who’d never truly see him or adore him the way Dmitri did. The very thought made his chest tighten. Here he was, wrapped around someone he cared about, and all Dmitri could think was that Reggie might be thinking about someone else, some other lesser man, while Dmitri played the fool. The anger began to intensely bubble beneath the surface.

"Hey... you asleep?" he asked roughly as he leaned down, tilting his chin to catch a glimpse of Reggie nestled against him. He waited for a response before carefully shifting, lifting himself and gently bringing Reggie into his lap. The weight of him was all too perfect, and Dmitri couldn't help but indulge in the sensation, his hands gripping Reggie's hips, pressing him down firmly on his clothed cock. The warmth, the closeness, the way it felt... it was hypnotizing, especially as the pressure built in Dmitri's lower abdomen, a delicious reminder of how far he'd let himself fall.

Nevertheless, despite his best efforts to mask it, Dmitri's expression betrays his mood. There’s a simmering frustration beneath the surface, his eyes burning with a heat he struggles to contain. His attempt to keep calm quickly fails him, and the raw tension in his gaze remains palpable, as though he’s desperately trying not to unleash the same ferocity he would when facing an opponent in a fight. Reggie's not the enemy, but he does have Dmitri's weary heart resting in the palm of his hand... And so, what exactly is the difference?

"That guy you said you’re giving up on and you’re just gonna keep pining over…" His fingers grasp Reggie’s chin, moving his face until they’re eye to eye, forcing Reggie to stare right into the fire. Dmitri’s voice drops lower, hard with a quiet anger. "Are you gonna fuck him?"

Well, shit.

[booasaur]

Your Honor (2020) - 2x02

[coridallasmultipass]

Halloween costume hint:

(The stitch marker and the word that describes this colour-pattern of yarn [or fabric] are 2 more hints.)

[katierosefun]

step 1 of watching suits: haha fun plot! look at this little guy pretending to be a law school graduate. yeah this won't have any consequences whatsoever

step 2 of watching suits: oh this little guy and that bigshot lawyer have some good chemistry. yeah they're both committing a crime by having him work at this new york big law firm but it's fun :)

step 3 of watching suits: they're actually facing consequences to their actions now, but oh god i don't want to see either of them lose. yes, they did something terrible but don't we all want to feel a bit special. don't we all feel stuck. doesn't our own ambition swallow us whole. don't we feel insanely loyal to the person who gave us everything. we're going down together. if you go, i go.

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

.

[feroluce]

incredibly sexy of you to be blankshipping on main and in the tags <3 and with incredible takes and ideas on top of that!

Thank you Anon, it's so hard having the biggest dick in the room, but someone has to do it 😔

As a slightly? more serious answer, I think it's good and even important to have people being loud and proud and totally self-accepting on main in the proship circles. Like there needs to be someone showing the people who got bought in on the anti stances and are then beating themselves up for totally normal things that it's ok. You aren't a bad person just for liking something problematic about a play-pretend character in a make-believe scenario and you don't need to sink into self-loathing over such a thing.

Because some of them are in actual agony over this stuff, and some of them have already accepted this about themselves but are too deep in the anti circles now, so they'd lose their entire support system if they were outed. Not to mention how creepily violent and invasive antis get about proshippers- and as someone in actual anti spaces, you'd have a front row seat to all the atrocities people would wish on you, or maybe even go so far as to commit them themselves.

Like you know how people talk about extremely strict religious parents? How they would try to control a lot of the thoughts and actions in their child's life? And then sometimes even get violent when they didn't comply? All while excusing it as trying to keep them from sinning or being a bad person? It's the exact same thing. And it has a lot of the same effects, too. Antis aren't beating the problematic out of each other. They're just plain beating and traumatizing each other and then making each other into better liars who secretly hang out on the proship servers on the downlow.

And it sucks! It sucks so bad! Because I've talked to people in those exact situations and like. Especially the fact that a lot of them are still young. Like barely young adults. Some of them are still technically teenagers. They shouldn't be dealing with this bullshit at what's already such a tender and difficult age. And it makes my heart ache and my blood boil because some of them are outright scared and there's just not a lot that I can do about it. You can't shield or protect someone from all of that and it sucks.

So like yeah I'm gonna be noisy and annoying and yowl right on main because at least with that I can give people somewhere to go where they feel decently safe and accepted, even if they never interact once. That's what got us the blankshipping server, because our creator was in the anti servers while sending me blankshipping asks and decided "you know what this sucks actually" lol. That's what brought in a lot of our members, because I could yell my heart out into the void here and! People heard! And then they joined the server and found a place they could finally breathe! And it's so much fun in there now!! ♡

Anyway tl;dr thank you dear lovely Anon you are entirely correct I am incredibly sexy and everyone desires me carnally and my dick is huge and I haunt the submas servers with how I live in their minds rent free skzjkdksjd

[empresskylo]

ghost knows he’s too rough and impatient with sex. knows he won’t know how to please you properly. knows he can’t possibly do things right with you, knowing you’ve never done this before. but god, he wants to. he wants to treat you how you deserve. never thought he’d be so desperate to fuck someone good and slow like he does with you.

so he goes to price. the one man who will know all the right ways to please a lady properly. asks him to show him how to take care of you. tells him he doesn't know how to care for someone else's needs, at least with someone inexperienced like you. tells him he needs to be instructed. to see just how he should work you.

you’re nervous at first, thinking it’s an absolutely insane idea, but you can’t hide the wetness along your panties as you sit on ghost’s lap, back pressed against his chest, legs spread, his knuckle dragging down your warmth. price sits back in his chair, telling ghost exactly how to move his fingers, paying close attention to your body's minuscule movements, the way your brows furrow when ghost moves a certain way, or your eyelashes fluttering.

and this was supposed to be a strictly hands-off approach… but god, watching ghost fumble, unable to maintain the slow speed you need, keeping you from reaching your orgasm, has price on edge. he leans forward, rolling his chair with him, and tells ghost to stop. tells him to watch and to pay close attention. price tears your panties off and your eyes go wide at the contact. you swallow, expecting ghost to be furious, but his hands only settle around you and he takes notes as he watches his captain work.

price runs his thumb up your slit, circling your nub, and tells ghost to hold your thighs apart when you unconsciously try to clench them. then his finger is sinking into you and your head falls back against ghost's chest, eyes shut. you moan and you feel ghost harden beneath you. “how’s that feel, sweetheart?” price asks you. you babble out incoherently, price adding a second finger, and chuckling darkly at your response.

it becomes too much, his fingers thrusting in and out of you, his other hand rubbing your clit, ghost's fingers digging into the softness of your thighs as he forces them apart. “ohmygod,” you slur, “m’gonna—“ price smirks, his eyes darkening as he watches you orgasm, your body clenching around his fingers shoved deep in your heat. "talk her through it," price tells ghost. so ghost does. you're shaking still and ghost rubs his hands over your exposed skin. "that's it, baby. you're doin' s'good," he praises.

"whata fuckin' sight," price mumbles to himself, his fingers leaving you empty. you steady your breathing, coming down from your high, completely limp in ghost's arms. price can see the way ghost's eyes have gone dark, his pupils swallowing his irises whole. knows ghost doesn't know how to be soft. sees the feral need to ram himself into you overtaking his features. "gonna take it slow with her, yeah?" price asks.

ghost breathes rapidly out, his hips begging to buck up against you. he knows he wouldn't be able to control himself if you let him fuck you. so he answers honestly. "not sure I'd be able to."

price tsks, sitting back in thought, his eyes roving over your spent body. you suddenly feel shy, wanting to close your legs, but ghost's arms tighten on you. "need me t'break her in?" price finally asks after several long beats of silence.

ghost grinds up against you, his hand sliding into your hair and pulling your head to the side so he can kiss your neck. your eyes flutter at his attempts to be so delicate with you. "want the captain here to be your first time, love?" ghost asks against your skin. you stutter when you answer. "don't you want to be?" "course I do. but I won't go easy on ya. I'd hate to ruin you, sweet girl. price will take it nice n' slow. just like you need." and after, you'll be ready to take ghost. ready to adjust to his size.

you swallow hard, ghost's hands escaping and clawing at your clothed chest. you nod. "o-okay."

price stands from his chair and begins to undo his belt. "come sit on my desk, sweetheart."

part two

cod masterlist

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 ! ❞

❝ SATORU GOJO KNOWS JUST HOW TO KEEP YOU COOL DURING A HEATWAVE - WITH HIS D!CK !! ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x reader

✧ summary: it’s a heatwave in tokyo and who better to spend it with than satoru, who has an interesting idea of how to pass the time — fucking the heat away.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, porn some plot, best friends to lovers, tiny bit of angst about suguru, inappropriate uses of popsicles, fucking in the heat, ice play, sex (p in v), oral (f!receiving), fingering (f! receiving), cum eating, cum fucking, pussy drunk satoru, implied multiple rounds, fanart by @ / umbra3terna on twt / tumblr (pls go follow htem, they are so talented)

✧ w/c: 7,161

“It’s so fucking hot,”

“Then let’s fuck to cool off.”

What? 

You stared at the strongest sorcerer, his face flushed red, heat clinging to his cheeks, white locks blowing in the cool breeze of the fan, his shirt lifted up to cool him or maybe to tempt you, his melting popsicle dripping onto his burning skin — and your eyes flicked to the blue liquid slipping down his abs, then back to his face. 

The low buzz of the fan filled the silence between the two of you as you stared at him, “what?” The question slipping from your mind out your lips. 

Satoru Gojo had far too many outrageous things leave his mouth — he was insolent, arrogant, and even mildly violent (mostly towards Ijichi) — but you didn’t know if it was him or the heat — but you were considering it. 

What the fuck was wrong with you? 

(Him. It was him that was wrong with you.)

It was a heatwave in Tokyo. The one rare time you hadn’t been sent away on a mission, and you couldn’t even leave your apartment with the heat warning issued. Not to mention your central air breaks down, with a repairman nowhere in sight. 

It was just your luck. 

You rub at your eyes — and you weren’t sure if they were burning from your sweat or your lack of sleep last night. You’re blasting your fans around your apartment, stripped down to your shortest shorts and lightest tank top. You’re walking around your kitchen, using a takeout menu to fan yourself as you watch your order drive towards your place. There was no fucking way you were cooking in this weather. 

And you see a phone call come through — Gojo Satoru’s name flashing across the top of the screen. You sigh, contemplating ignoring the phone call, but you know he would only call a million times more, and you pick up. 

“Why did it take you so long to pick up my phone call?” and you shake your head, placing the call on speaker as you watch your takeout arrive at your place. 

“It literally rang twice,” Satoru’s patience had not changed since your time Jujutsu Tech — as you glance at your contact photo, a picture of him dressed in Shoko’s skirt from your school days, with Geto snickering in the background — though a lot of things had. 

“Two times too many,” you knew he was pouting. 

“Satoru, unless the next words out of your mouth is an offer is to fly me to a place where the weather is better, I’m gonna hang up on you,” you sigh, making your way to the door, opening the door to find Satoru standing there, looking far too stylish in a white t-shirt, his blue shorts hanging low on his waist, and sunglasses perched precariously on his head, your takeout in hand, “what are you doing here?” 

“Well I thought you wouldn’t  want to take a beach day with me unless I showed up to your place. Ta-da!” he lifts up a duffel bag, seemingly stuffed to the brim. 

“Satoru, there’s a weather advisory out. I’m pretty sure all the beaches are closed, and even if you’re immune to heatstroke, I’m not,” you step aside to pull him inside, the humidity sucking the little cool air you have in your apartment, “why did you think going to the beach in this heat was a good idea?” 

He shrugs, “An excuse to get out of the house, plus, my apartment’s cooling is out—“ 

“So you thought even if you couldn’t go to the beach, you could steal my A.C.?” you sigh, collapsing on the couch, “well too bad because mine’s busted too,” you glance over, but your gaze doesn’t find Satoru, seeing his paintbrush head stuck in your freezer, “you’re going to melt—“ he turns around to have a blue popsicle stuck in his mouth and you almost snort at the sight, “bring me one too.” 

“What should we do?” you murmur, sticking the popsicle in your mouth, as you laid back on the couch, sucking on the end of it, “watch a movie?” 

“It feels too hot to do anything but lay here,” Satoru sighed, the crinkle of his second popsicle white noise as you scroll through possible movie options on your phone, until you toss it away, metal overheating just as you were. 

“Well, we have to fucking do something other than just burn,” and you glance over, his white tee rolled up to expose his stomach as he ate his popsicle, and you raise an eyebrow, “what the hell are you doing?” 

“What’s it look like? Enjoying my popsicle,” he half mumbles as he continues to suck on the colored ice, “it’s better than it getting on my shirt,” You watch the popsicle drip onto his exposed abs, liquid pooling in the crevices of his toned muscles, you lick at your own popsicle, catching the drops off the melting ice with your tongue, wondering how much sweeter it would taste to lick it off his abs, “see something you like sweetheart?” 

His teasing words and wide grin pry you from your reverie with the subtlety of a crowbar, and your cheeks burn, as you roll your eyes, “You’re a dumbass,” you mutter, and he snickers at you, as you avert your gaze from him, and go back to eating your popsicle. 

You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you as you slide the popsicle into your mouth, and you definitely don’t miss the way he eyes you as you suck at the fruity ice, before letting it slip from your lips, leaving only the tip of it pressed against your lips. 

“See something you like, Satoru?” and he has no reaction, shamelessly staring still, as he tilts his head. 

“I do,” he says without missing a beat, lifting his gaze to meet your own, “are you offering?” and you blink, before looking away — why was everything with Satoru a game of chicken? A bull’s rush to the line the two of you refused to cross, but did everything to pull the other over it. But neither of you had faltered, not in all these years. 

Not since the very last summer just like this. 

The sun had sunk past the horizon line, the summer night only predicated by the harmony of cicadas and the humidity that still stubbornly clung to the air, despite the sun being long gone. And that’s when Satoru had knocked on your door to tell you — tell you what had happened with Geto. 

He was gone. He had left. And he wasn’t coming back. 

And why was it that the signs were all there, laid out before you like directions to where he was going — and you didn’t see them, obscured by his empty reassurances and your own selfishness. 

You didn’t blame Suguru. Not after everything that had happened with Riko, Haibara, and everything else. But when you saw Satoru before you, despondent and broken — not a single inch of his usual flippant humor present, not a bit of his joy that he always had. But a part of you wanted to blame him — blame him for hurting Satoru, for hurting you, so prolifically. 

But you couldn’t blame him all the same. 

Satoru had spent the next few nights in your place, even sharing your bed at time, waking up with his long limbs tangled with your own, his face often buried in the crook of your neck, and you could see the evidence of dried tears on his face, despite his best efforts to cover his own tear tracks. 

“Do you think I could have stopped him?” he had asked you that night, his head laid in your lap as you flipped through the channels of the shitty TV you had brought from home and refused to replace, “do you think he would have listened?” 

“I think Suguru is even more stubborn as you are — because you were stubborn enough not to listen to your best friends,” your fingers cupped the bottom of his chin, “there wasn’t anything you could do — you can’t help someone who wasn’t willing to accept it,” 

“I could have made him,” and his skies contained in his eyes were infinite — just as he thought of himself — but he wasn’t. Because unlike the sky, he was human. 

“No, you couldn’t have,” you flick his forehead, and he pouts up at you, “and sitting here and wondering what ifs will do nothing for you — except drive you and your very excellent best friend crazy,” 

“Lucky for me she loves me even when I drive her crazy,” and you roll your eyes, a smile pulling on your lips, as he stares up at you, your fingers mindlessly tracing the length of his jaw, feeling the quake of his body as he shivered under your touch. 

“Very lucky,” and you could feel the pull between your bodies, the ever so slight way you leaned, willing for once to cross that line for him, for you — but he turned on his side, facing the TV instead of you. 

“What should we watch?” 

And you had promised yourself that night, you wouldn’t let your feelings get in the way of your friendship, you wouldn’t do that to him — because you knew he had already lost too much. 

But now—he was the one trying to cross the line. 

You stared at him, before scoffing, “Shut up,” but you were too afraid to let him. Your eyes drift back to the TV, leaning back against the couch — it was for the best this way, “think the heat’s getting to you more than you admit,” 

“Maybe,” he hums, as you finish your popsicle and sigh, leaning back on the couch again, with a groan. 

“It’s so fucking hot,” you sighed, leaning back on the couch, head hanging over the armrest. 

And you could feel his gaze on you, undeterred from before, “Then let’s fuck to cool off.” 

You almost think you heard him wrong, as you slowly lift your head to look at him. You must have heard him wrong. Satoru was known to make bad jokes or say ridiculous things — but not like this. And you find a smirk across his lips, but the heat in his gaze had not a hint of humor in it — burning hotter than the sun taunting all of Tokyo. 

“What?” You don’t know what you want him to say — say that it was a joke, say that you heard him wrong, or just say it again. But your eyes can’t pull away from his, the blue of his eyes pulling you close instead of pushing you away unlike his technique by the same name. 

“You heard me, sweetheart,” he tilts his head, biting into his popsicle, letting the tip slip into his mouth, “we could fuck the heat away,” the idea slips so casually from his lips, as if he was recommending a movie or a book, and not fucking you here and now. 

“Satoru—“ your voice is chiding, you’re shaking your head, but the couch creaks as he leans forward, the remnants of his popsicle slipping down his abs and through his happy trail and seeping into his shorts, “don’t fuck around—“ 

“Do you think I’d say that to you of all people just to fuck around?” he raises his eyebrows, and your words flee your mind just as you wish to, but you sit, wondering if this is a literal fever dream from the heat, “you don’t have to think about it so much,” 

“Don’t I?” you scoff, shaking your head, as you get to your feet, wiping the sweat from your forehead, “Satoru, why—“ 

And he’s getting to his feet, wiping the melted popsicle on his stomach with his white shirt, no longer caring as much as he said he did. And you can feel the heat radiate from his body, all consuming just as this heatwave was — clinging to you even as you tried to keep cool, sweat dripping off your flesh like the pleas that left your lips. 

“I’ve thought about this for too long, too many times,” he murmurs, fingers brushing against your cheek, featherlight as if you’d break apart under his touch, “we’re sitting in your place — it’s just you and me. You’re asking why, and I’m asking why not?”’

“I don’t want to sleep with you just like that, I can’t. I want it—“ you cut off, but he doesn’t let you turn your head, hand cupping your cheek now. 

“You want what, sweetheart?” Your mouth was impossibly dry, the words unable to force their way from your throat, “tell me, please,” and the pleading in his voice breaks you. 

“I want it to mean something,” and his gaze softens, as your eyes meet his again, a ghost of a chuckle on his lips, “it’s not funny—“ and he’s daring even closer, a hand sliding down your side. 

“It’s funny because you could think I would ever want anything that’s to do with you to be only meaningless,” he murmurs, words fanning your skin, and god it was so fucking hot. Between the temperature, his closeness, and his words, you were sure you’d pass out, “do you know how many times I wanted to do this? So many times during the days and nights we’d spent together, I wanted to just reach over and pull you into a kiss,” 

“Then why didn’t you?” your brow furrows, “and why now?” 

“Because I’m tired of waiting for a sign, for something in my head to tell me it’s safe, that you won’t disappear,” his thumb rubs back and forth, “just like every good thing in my life,” 

“I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with me at this point,” and his lips curl, a breath away, “Toru—“ 

“Can I kiss you?” and you almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but you can’t, the heat so thick it feels as if every molecule of your body was on fire, and the only thing that could quench the flames was his lips. So you just nod wordlessly. 

His lips find yours. It was chaste, a brush of his lips against yours, the lingering sweetness of the popsicle dancing on your tongue. It’s too soon that he’s pulling away, your lips mourning the absence of his touch already. 

“Feeling cooler?” his words warm your lips, but even so you’re pulling him back into another kiss, lips sliding against his firmly, his fingers tangling in his hair, wanting nothing more than to melt into his grasp.

And you part your lips from his for a moment,” Not at all,” and your eyes flicker to your refrigerator, “but maybe we can cool down.” 

“Fuck,” Satoru shivered, and he wasn’t sure if it was your lips against his pulse, or from the drag of the quickly melting popsicle against his burning skin. But neither of those compared to the soft groan ripped from his lips as your tongue dragged up his side, following the sticky, sweet trail of melted ice, mixing with his sweat, “well, am I sweeter than ice cream?” 

He’s too sweet. 

He’s certainly sweet like this, laid out on your bed for you, his shirt long discarded, his shorts about to join them. Soft pants made his chest rise and fall, slowing and quickening with your touch — his pulse thrumming under your touch. 

But he’s also sweet with the way he looks up at you, soft eyes to match his smile, as if he was made to look at you like this. And a part of you wanted to believe he was — even if most of you couldn’t quite believe it. 

Your lips curl, humming as you press a wet kiss to his sticky skin, “i don’t know, I need more time to make my final decision,” you lick up the length of the rapidly melting sweet, droplets of sweet sugar water dissolving on your tongue, but you knew it really was nothing compared to the taste of his lips. 

But you weren’t going to tell him that. 

You take a bite of the popsicle, before leaning down to kiss him, letting the ice melt between your tongues, as his fingers tangled in your locks, and soon enough he’s rolling you onto your back, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. 

And he leans forward, eating the last bit of the popsicle from the stick, “Well it’s my turn to taste now,” 

“You can’t even wait your turn for this, huh—“ the last word is a squeal as his fingers slide into the waistband of your shorts, snapping it against your heated skin, flames licking everywhere he touches. 

The melted popsicle runs down his muscles, rivulets running down the contours of his body, before dripping onto your burning skin, nipples pulling taut from the sticky sugar. He leans down to tease one nipple, sucking the melted liquid off, before doing the same to the other. 

“I’ve waited long enough, sweetheart,” and he’s dragging your shorts off, thighs crying out in relief as the cool air of the fan did it’s job to ebb away the heat ever so slightly, drying the layer of sweat, “I don’t want to wait another minute,” 

“So impatient,” you chide teasingly, voice lilting and yet he looks at you with a half lidded gaze, sending a wave of heat right to your core. And the way your thighs press together doesn’t go unnoticed, fingers splayed against the plushness of your thighs, forcing them gently apart. Your cheeks burned, and this time not from the weather, “Toru—“ 

His cerulean eyes find the wet patch of your panties, a smirk pulling at the corners of his pretty lips, “Don’t think this is sweat, baby,” he teases, fingers skimming over the damp spot, “or should I make sure?” 

“Satoru—“ and your chiding is cut off by the sinful press of his fingers to your clothed cunt, his dark eyes lidded as they watch your slick soak through the ruined panties already. And you can’t help the way your hips buck against his hand, “you motherfucker—“

“Funny coming from the one humping my hand,” he grins, and his thumb grinds down against your clit, his other slipping under your ass to knead the soft flesh, “maybe it is sweat and I should just leave you to cool off,” his fingers slipping away, delicious friction that your cunt was already spread open, wet, and willing for— 

A whine leaves your throat, an all too pretty noise, “Toru, please, I—“ and his fingers are hooking in the fabric of your panties before ripping them off, quite literally, the sound of tearing fabric making you gape at him, “what the fuck—“ 

“It’s too hot for these anyway,” Satoru pockets the panties in his shorts, “look at this, you’re burning up,” he stares at your leaking pussy shamelessly — because shame was a word that Satoru Gojo did not know, “and I think I know just what to do to cool you down,” his head leans down, blowing softly at your inner thighs, over the sweat mixed your pre that coated your skin, your folds twitching, just as the corners his lips did, “so needy,” 

“You’re the fucking worst,” your words a mutter unfolding into a gasp as he drags a single finger up your leaking folds, gathering your slick on the tip of his index, and then he’s tracing a slow circle around your clit, “Toru,” your words are half pleading, half pouting. It’s so hot, his touch only serving to make you sweat — literally and metaphorically. You were sure your sheets would be ruined after this — and not just from your sweat. 

“Lemme savor this, you kept me waiting so long, Princess,” his reverent words pressed against your inner thigh, teasing butterfly kisses that make you squirm, a flick of his sharp tongue that tastes the sweat against your skin, “how’re you this sweet? S’perfect,” his words are seemingly more for him than you, pussy drunk without even taking a single sip. 

But not for long. 

His nose bumps against your clit, tongue flicking against the seam of your messy cunt, eager fingers pulling the sticky, sweaty skin apart, and your cheeks burn with how exposed you feel—and how self conscious you were. 

“M-maybe this isn’t a good idea. I’m really sweaty—“ and the flat of his tongue drags up your sopping pussy, and fuck, good wasn’t enough to describe it. 

“Then I better clean my nasty girl up, right?” he cools your sticky skin with another soft puff of air blown between lips glossy with your precum, making you whimper as he pulls away, “one sec, sweetheart, think I need reinforcements,” 

The creak of the bed as he scurried off for a moment making you lift your head, an embarrassingly strong ache between your legs making you whine, legs closing, as you bit your lip, “Toru, what the fuck—“ 

And he’s back, but not empty handed — a glass filled to the brim with ice, a grin on his lips, “ready to cool off, Princess?” 

~~~ 

“A-ah, too cold,” you whine, and Satoru can’t help but disagree it’s far too hot — and it wasn’t the weather. It was you. 

You were always hot. You always had been — otherwise how else did you melt his icy demeanor from the moment you met? Too big of a chip on his shoulder from all those years spent at the lonely top of his clan, and you had no problem keeping company up there while kicking off his pedestal. 

Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. Gasps pulled from spit soaked lips, chest rising up and down, and your legs spread open just for him. You shivered as he dragged a half melted ice cube along your collarbone, water trailing behind that he was more than dragging his tongue along, the sweetness of your skin mixed with the tang of your sticky sweat. 

How had he resisted for so long? 

It had been years and years of pining. Of late night spent watching movies, of days spent fighting alongside each other, and even more days spent trying to get home to the other. And all that time, he still had stayed at the same distance. 

Because it was safer. It was easier. But he wasn’t know what it was — the heat, patience wearing thin, the fucking sight of your smile even in this fucked world — but he couldn’t stand it anymore. 

Not without you by his side. 

“Think the ice would beg to differ, sweetheart,” he hums, as he presses a kiss over the pooling ice as it melts right above the swell of your breast, “I’d say it’s much too hot,” your nipples grow hard under his treatment, a hiss leaving your lips, as he sucks the ice water from one nipple while rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Toru, fuck, please—“ your words cut off with another gasp as he buries his face in the swell of your breasts, licking up the valley, before his lips find your pert nipples, lips closing around, sucking and licking, before nibbling at the skin. 

“You always this needy, pretty? Or is it just for me?” his words are said teasingly, but his eyes are just as desperate as yours, fingers dragging down your sides now, “better be just for me,” he mutters more to himself than you, as you gasp, ice cold fingers prying your thighs apart, “heh, what a mess you’ve made,” his fingers skim your dripping cunt, and he lifts his fingers to spread them in front of your face, your pre strung like spider webs between them, “don’t think sweat’s does this, does it?” 

And he turns his head, pressing kisses to your thighs, a glorified slip and slide from your sweat and pre alike, but how was it that you still tasted so sweet? A whimper escapes your bitten lips, his breath warming your pussy, a puff of air blowing over your twitching entrance, eyes sliding to the glass of melting ice. 

“You put a fucking ice cube in me and I’ll—“ he snorts, but grabs an ice cube all the same. 

“Only I belong inside you, baby, nothing else,” and he presses the ice cube to his lips, your eyes hypnotized as you watch him drag it back and forth, until he lets it slip into his lips, melting as he leans down, “now let me cool you off,” he presses his lips to your clit, a short kiss that has him melting all the same. 

You jerk. Cold. His lips tingled as his lips enveloped your clit, and his tongue was no better. Fucking freezing, a yelp that he rips from your body, as you can’t help but squirm. But he doesn’t let you get away that easily. Because nothing about the two of you was ever easy. 

His fingers press into your hips, arms pinning your body to the mussed sheets of your bed, as his tongue circles your clit, cold ebbing away with each stroke, until he’s lost in the warmth of your pussy. 

And Satoru only could wish he set up a camera — so he can watch you again and again with your gaze hazy with lust, tears welling like the condensation on the glass on making your eyes just as glassy, but you stared at him all the same. 

So he might as well give you a show.

“Fuck, could live in this tight cunt, you’re gonna be the only sweet thing I drink all summer,” the only summer drink he will settle for — the only thing sweeter than sugar itself — and he only one he wants. His tongue parts your folds, sinking deeper past your entrance, until he’s practically tongue fucking you, face buried in your cunt.

“T-Toru, ngh, too much,” and it was all too much for him — your soft moans, the lewd squelch of your pussy, the tremble of your thighs as he ate you out, and his tongue pulls back a moment, choosing to focus on your clit, as he sinks a cold finger inside, “fuck!” 

“Now you’re getting it, Princess,” he coos, and your scowl only lasts a second as his thick finger fucks you open, “gotta make sure I fit don’t I?” 

“You’re so fucking full of it—how about less talk and more—“ and he presses his erection against your leg, letting you feel how hard you’ve gotten him, and how fucking much he could cum in his boxers here and now. And you whimper, pussy clenching at the sight of him, “Toru, how will you—how—“ 

He’s so fucking big. 

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart,” and he’s slipping in a second finger, as his tongue laps at your clit, “I’ll make myself fit,” and he would be the only one who would fit, the only one that could fuck your cunt, have his fingers curling deep, the only one making your head loll back against the pillow, “she’ll let me in, fuck you right, make sure I can carve out a nice place for myself — when I fuck every inch of her,” 

And his fingers piston into you, surely pruning with how your pre slips down his wrists and the wet sounds of your sloppy cunt grow louder, almost louder than the moans you make. 

Almost. 

“Said I’m the fucking worst, but it sounds like I’m the best, huh?” and you’re too far lost in the pleasure, nodding your head, as he’s fucked all the logic from your mind — leaving only want behind. And it seems like you both were on the same page now. 

It was nasty, the way his tongue took turns lapping at your walls, before teasing them open with his fingers. The way his sweat dripped down his face and mixed with your pre as he glued himself to your pretty pussy — and he was sure he could die of heatstroke with how fucking warm your pussy was. 

And he would die happy. 

But he knew you were close — with the way your hips were nearly grinding against his face and fingers, spit mixing with pre as he pulled away a moment, continuing to hit every spot that drove you to the edge closer and closer, “G’nna cum already, baby?” His taunting lilt makes you scowl, even with how far gone you were,  “s’cute, is it that easy?” 

“T-toru, I swear—“ and his lips latch to your clit, sucking hard, right as his fingers find that spot—and he swears your soul leaves your body, your body tenses under his touch, lovely lips falling open with his name on it as you cum. 

Well, more like squirt, your release making even more of a mess of yourself, the sheets, and him. It splatters across his face and hands, and he’s groaning, vibrating against your cunt, as he fucks you through your orgasm, sucking and slurping every drop you gave him. And it’s a feat as you absolutely drench his mouth, slick, sweat, and spit, dripping down his jaw. 

And he’s a fucking vision, once you get it back, far gone in the pleasure, as he continued to lap at you, until he finally pulls his fingers from you, and your eyes flutter open, chest rising and falling as you watch him lick each one of his digits clean, sliding him into his mouth, “what? Y’know i love my sweets,” his tongue then darts out to clean your slick from his face, before wiping the rest off. 

You’re reaching for him, eager fingers finding his shoulder, as you tug him on top of you, before flipping him with ease, so his back hits the mattress. He stares up at you — and god, did he always look at you like this? And how did you never see it — and how would you ever stop? 

“Princess—” but you don’t let him protest, lips meeting his, a soft groan as you taste yourself on his lips, palms sliding down his sticky chest, and your lips journey downwards, ghosting down his body. Your lips linger over his raised nipples, tonguing and teasing them, a hint of sweetness that lingers from his popsicle undoubtedly. 

“And you said I was sweet, you’re the one covered in melted popsicle,” you mumble, and he smirks, but his reply melts into a groan as the tip of your tongue traces the ridges of his abs, “can’t take it, Toru?” 

“F-fuck, can you blame me, sweetheart? Been thinking about this for too long. Wanted nothing more, nothing more than you,”  and your lips graze down his happy trail, a sharp inhale as he shudders as your fingers dip into the elastic of his boxers, tugging it down.

He’s perfect — just like every part of him, almost annoyingly so, if you weren’t too busy drooling over it. Swollen tip flushed a deep red, while the rest was a perfect blush pink that you wanted to paint your cheeks with, glossy with precum and sweat, begging to be touched. 

And you were more than happy to oblige. 

He nearly cums then and there when his cock grazes your cheek, smearing his pearly precum across your face. You turn your head, letting his tip drag over your lips, painting your lips with his pre. 

“Shit—“ he sucks air between his teeth, fingers digging into the sheets of the mattress, “not gonna last long at this rate—“ 

“I’ve barely started, surprised the honored one hasn’t cummed in his boxers yet,” he pouts, before he’s hissing as your lips press teasing kisses to your inner thighs, “can’t handle the heat?” And the tip of your tongue licks at the pubes above his cock, the melted sugar water clinging to the skin there, leaning down to kiss the tip of his cock— “then maybe you shouldn’t have started this—-“ 

And his fingers sink into your flesh, and now you’re on your back, sweat making you nearly stick to the sheets but you could care less with the sight above you. His cheeks flushed as he looks at down at you, but his lips curled in the same grin he always had, “oh, I’m going to be the one end it,” 

“End it? Don’t tell me this is the last I’m seeing of you,” vulnerability creeps back in a moment, and his fingers traces the curve of your cheek and down to your lips — “didn’t take you the type to hit it and quit it,” 

And he snorts, “I didn’t take you as the type to know what that means,” but his thumb rubs back and forth across your bottom lip, “but do you think after all this time I could ever quit you?” 

His fingers grasp at the base of his weeping cock, groaning as he teases your entrance with his tip, marking you with his precum, your gasp making his dick twitch, as if it’s begging to be inside you. “All of this is for you,” he grunts, guiding your hand to his chest, feeling his heart thus underneath your palm, “it’s always been for you,” 

“I’m starting to think you didn’t wanna just fuck the heat away,” and he laughs, his tip kissing your entrance, just as he brushed his lips against yours. 

“Well, who said that was the only reason?” And he’s sinking inside you, inch by inch. And there far too many fucking inches. He groans at the sight of your folds, swallowing his cock whole, walls stretching around his length, “look how good you take me — this perfect pussy was made for me, isn’t that right?” and you’re nodding wordlessly, lips parted in a silent moan, as your walls pulled him deeper and deeper, “not g’nna be able to control myself, shit, feels too good, princess,” 

“Feels too good to be like this,” you’re panting as the words leave your lips, your eyes glassy with lust — Satoru swears you could look at him, and it would be enough for him to fuck you all over again, “too big, Toru — you gonna fuck me stupid,” and you can feel his dick grow, pushing against your walls as he bottoms out, and you whine in return, “hngh, I wasn’t being serious—” 

“So tight,” An almost guttural hiss pulled from the back of his throat, and he’s smug as he looks down at you, mouth fallen open, “I’m always serious about fucking you stupid, sweetheart,” as he lifts your legs, pressing them to your chest, your ankles dangling next to his head, as he kisses the soft skin there, a wicked grin, despite the sweat trickling down his face, “it’s the one time I can be smarter than you,” 

He’s torturing you. Torturing you as he grinds his hips roughly against you, the lewd noises of your sloppy cunt and the sticky perspiration between your bodies deafening, yet still won’t give you what you want. More than that, the heat between your bodies was too much — flames engulfed every muscle with every brush of his body against yours, every twitch of his dick inside you, and veins full of fire rather than blood. And you were sure you’d spontaneously combust in this heat, and he’d still fuck you all the same — letting himself be swallowed up by the fire just as well. 

Your moan was almost unrecognizable to you, the pleading in your voice bone deep, just as the heat was, “Please, Toru, move,” and he’s grunting, and you know he wants you — has wanted you all these years, and he only smiles at your words, a short laugh on his lips. 

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” and his fingers dig into your hips as he begins to fuck you, hard and fast. His balls slap against your skin, the noise ringing in your ears, and your cunt resists every time he pulls out — as if you never want him to go. And he never will. He can’t stand the thought of anyone else seeing you like this — see the way your lips part in moans; the way your eyes glaze over in pleasure; the way sweat drips down your face, running down into the divot between your tits; the way your tight cunt bulges at the sides as you take his dick so well — no, this is a sight just for him, “s’pretty, and all for me,” 

You’re already s’close after all the teasing all night, the sounds of his grunts and groans doing nothing to help as his tip rams against your cervix, and you’re sure his dick is fucking places you only dreamed of reaching, but still you can’t help but want more—so much so that the word slips from your mouth. 

He laughs, fingers pushing on the slight bulge in your stomach making you gasp, the sweat of his palm mixing with your own that gathered on your stomach, “Even when you’re getting your guts fucked, you want more, sweetheart?” and his fingers rub meanly at your clit, pinching and pulling at the sensitive spot as his tip hits that spot that has your vision blurring again and again, “I’ll give you anything you want, because you’re mine,” 

And you’re surprised the bed frame doesn’t break as he begins to slam into you, but it does creak, begging for a break, just as you had begged for this dick. Your eyes water as he rams into you, rutting like a dog in heat, and maybe he was — maybe you both were. 

“Toru, Toru, I’m close, s’close, I can’t—“ and you’re so cute, like this, whining and begging for him, for the thing only he can give you — and he’s twitching inside you, and he knows he’s not far behind. 

“Cum for me,” he nearly orders, and his words are the thing that makes the ribbon of heat in your cunt snap. Your toes curl, as you cum hard around his cock, walls squeezing and shuddering around him as he only pistons into you harder and deeper, intent on making you feel pleasure in every inch of your body, and he’s shifting your legs, hands helping you wrap them around his waist, as he ruts into you, chasing his own high. 

You’re boneless and long gone, as your chest bumps against his as he fucks you, but you still manage to find words to push him over the edge, goad him as you always did, because you know right where to touch (especially now). 

“G’nna cum inside me, Toru? Fill me up with your release?” and he swore he lost the ability to breathe, heat and your words stealing the breath from his lungs, as he ruts into you, mix of sweat and sex making his head spin, but not as much as your sweet cunt does. 

He’s close, he knows he is, especially when he looks to see the ring of cum and sweat around the base of his cock, and when your fingers thread through his white locks, thumb rubbing against his undercut, to pull him back into a bruising kiss, right as his cock hits your deepest part again—

“Cum for me, Toru,” and he does, uncoiling at your command, spurting thick ropes of cum inside your walls, painting your insides, as he fucks it deeper into you with every roll of his hips. Debauched groans leaving his lips as he murmurs how perfect you are, because you are — even more than he could have ever imagined. His thrusts slow, the sticky sweat and cum drenching both of you and the sheets alike. He pulls himself gently from inside, groaning at the loss of your warmth, but also wondering if your cunt doubled as an oven — the cool air of the fan sliding over his bare skin a relief. 

He eases onto your side, pressing sweet kisses all over your face, before you bury it in the crook of his neck for a moment, before pulling away, “You’re all sticky,” you wrinkle your nose, with a whine, and he laughs, a shit eating grin on his lips — more euphoric than sarcastic. 

“Well, who’s fault is that?” and you’re pouting, brow furrowed. 

“The same guy’s bright idea it was to fuck in the middle of a fucking heatwave,” and he props himself up, the sheets nearly glued to him as he took in the damage, mussed and ruined with the mess of cum, sweat, and spit all over, “you’re buying me new sheets,” and he chuckles, leaning over to peck your lips. 

“I’ll buy you a new bed if you ever let me do that again,” and you shake your head, eyes fluttering open and then closed, as he nosed as the column of your neck, completely fascinated with the way your skin was glowing still after all of that, “you just gonna doze off after all of that? Such a nasty girl, we gotta clean up after all that, don’t we?” 

“Don’t wanna get up,” and he chuckles, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head, but the touch seems to make you whine, “fuck, but its so hot,” 

“And yet I didn’t hear you complaining when I was fucking you,” he tilts your chin up, glazed over eyes fluttering open to meet his, and how was it that your gaze alone was enough to want him to pin you down and fuck you all over again? “Told ya it was a good idea to fuck the heat away,” 

“Except when it ends up like this,” and he sighs, the creak of the mattress underneath, as he gets to his feet, “what are you—ah!” he’s lifted you into his arms, sweat soaked bodies sticking together nearly as he carries you through the living room, making a small pit stop to grab two ice cold water bottles, sounds of the TV still floating through the apartment, towards your shower. 

“Who said this heatwave was over yet?” 

A weather report was playing, a snippet Satoru caught before he shut the door. Reports say the heatwave is going to continue for the rest of the week. Residents are advised to stay inside until things finally cool down!  

“You hear that, sweetheart?” as he sets you down, turning on the water of the shower, letting the cold water soak you both, as he loomed over you, pinning you against the shower wall, “guess it’s just you and me for a week,” and he opens the water bottle, taking a sip before pressing his lips to yours, forcing you swallow the water, tongue seeking after it. 

His fingers rest below your chin, as his lips ghost over the curve of your jaw and the slope of your neck, before his teeth graze the hollow of your throat, as his fingers sneak down to tease at your aching cunt, sinking in to stuff his cum dripping down your thighs back inside, “lucky I know just how to keep you cool, right?” 

✧ a/n: its been super hot here where i live and i'm dying so i want gojo to come fuck the heat away.

✧ taglist: @mysticaltigersorceress, @kentocalls, @biblioth-que, @dreamtardisspace, @augustwinesworld, @totallytatum, @hanxyy, @sxnkuna, @spindyl, @rosiesroseas, @kxouri, @elisaj313-blog, @theelegantpotato, @peppertoastuniverse, @alwaysfreakingout, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @pompompurin-rambles, @catsgomurp, @admirxation, @ninikrumbs, @equanimoushuman, @mysticaltigersorceress, @eightantseatingapplesss, @notgoodforlife, @satowooo, @gojo-gets-me-wetter, @ivypinsss, @fayyyrieee, @hcn-eyes, @designerpvssy, @mua-for-now, @sukunabish, @fushitoru, @spider-fan72, @suguwife, @forest-fruits-jam, @pinkyvomit, @ranatherealestsigma, @gojosbrat, @megumibrainrot, @pxppygirl

[fict1onallyobsessed]

OKAY OKAY COULD YOU PLEASE WRITE SMTH ABOUT SEVIKA PROTECING READER BECAUSE OF SOMETHING LIKE HERE ON THIS PIC SHE PROTECTS JINX AND ISHA??

im sorry if i wrote something wrong but english is not my first language😭🙏

OF COURSE !!!!!!! I have an idea for this...

I got a little carried away and gave you more LOL sorry

Sevika x Fem!Reader

She grabbed you before you could process the fan being turned on. Thankfully, you weren't too far from the table that protected you both, otherwise you would have been swept with the air flow violently.

Your side hurt. The shot Caitlyn took must have not only pierced your skin but the force broke your rib too. Whatever the gun was made of was strong enough to go through the stone pillar behind you partially as well.

Safe to say it hurt as fuck.

You clutched your side and winced as Sevika crouched with you in front of her, the stone table keeping you sat up, but barely. Sevika's new metal arm grabbed onto the table and kept her put, the other going to hold your side with you.

You weren't sure whether your adrenaline was keeping you lucid or if the shot wasn't truly that bad. Regardless, you didn't want to hang around much longer.

You looked up at your girlfriend, head slightly bouncing off the stone behind you as you rested it. She looked worried, and although nothing but pain was filling your sense, you found the energy to sigh and show her a small smile.

Her hair was flying around with the wind, her face showing slight worry and mostly focus as she tried to keep you both behind the table.

"You'll be fine." She mouthed, and you couldn't do much more but nod. You trusted her. You believed her...but the blood slowly seeping through the cracks of your fingers, and onto her hand covering yours, it was looking more like you were not going to be fine.

The wind seemed everlasting and the longer you sat there, waiting for it to stop, the dizzier you became.

You wanted to see Sevika's face for as long as you could. Taking in her scowl of concentration, the barely noticeable glint of nervousness in her eye when she met yours, the shiny scar across her cheek.

You thought she was leaning down to get out of the wind more, but instead she leaned down to your ear and spoke through the loud fan.

"Don't look at me like that." She spoke it as a command as her hand squeezed your bleeding side.

"Like what?" You scoffed quietly, immediately feeling the burn in your rib.

"Like you're about to say goodbye. You're fine."

You hummed and looked back up at her when she pulled away, leaving no room for discussion.

She was so gorgeous, holding you, protecting you, as if you were about to disappear any minute.

Your head spun so much you didn't even notice the fan turn off. Sevika lifted you off the ground and instructed Jinx, who was also carrying a girl, where to go. It all came out as muffled to you though, as the blood loss slowly stared winning, and you passed out.

When you woke up, the first thing you saw was two heads looking down at you. Jinx's braids tickled your nose, while the other girls hair wasn't even long enough to reach her eyebrows. You groaned, immediately going in to hold your side as a reflex to find it bandaged.

"I told you to let her rest." Sevika's voice rung out in a disappointed tone as she walked in with a bunch of fresh bandages in her hand. Presumably for you.

You were in Silco's office, laid down on his sofa. The table was covered with medical supplies, alcohol bottles and jinx's crafts, but your eyes ended up laying upon Sevika. Her worried expression had you worried.

"How are you feeling?" Sevika asked, looking down at you as she put the obnoxious amount of wraps on the table.

"Trust you to get shot." Jinx scoffed playfully as she stared down at you, knowing damn well that bullet was meant for her. "Took it like a champ though!"

You chuckled back and attempted to sit up, but Sevika was faster and pushed you back down, shaking her head.

"I'm fine." You spoke, but Sevika wouldn't relent. She kept you laying down as she changed your bandages carefully. Your eyes fell from Sevika onto the little girl who was still staring down at you. "Who would have thought Jinx took in a stray. What's your name?"

"Her name is Isha. She's sticking around." Jinx replied matter-of-factly, a small smirk on her face as she said it. It made you giggle a bit.

"Alright, out." Sevika stood up from crouching beside you as she finished your bandages. Jinx took Isha and left, excited to show her some of her trinkets to get her mind off of...recent events. "She needs to rest."

"I'm alright." You spoke, reaching out for Sevika's hand to help you up. "How bad was it?"

"Bad enough to have me worried." She sighed, sitting beside you and letting you lean on her.

"Sorry." You sighed back, almost identically. "And you know, thank you."

She wrapped her hand around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head.

"Anytime."