#but you don’t need that context to watch it it’s just good

[diamondpython00]

You know, I am sometimes struck by how obnoxiously weird my tastes in media are, and by obnoxiously weird I mean I find things I really like, that change my thinking and inspire feelings I can’t name, and then like two people have heard of it. The latest example of such is Jon Bois’ Football 17776, or What Football Will Look Like in the Future. It follows three space probes - Frontier 9, Frontier 10, and the Jupiter Icy Moons Exploration probe, going by the names Nine, Ten, and Juice - who gain sentience from being left to run unhindered for 15000 years. In the meantime, some unexplained event in 2026 caused everyone on earth to become immortal, stop aging, and become infertile. (It’s an odd premise, but stick with me here, it will get weirder.) The world is post-scarcity, post-death, and basically a utopia. Because there’s such a lack of purpose in this world, the entire population of earth spends most of their time and energy playing sports, and we follow several games of American football played in this world, the players who play them, and why they play the game. Because the players are immortal and invulnerable, the games can get truly ridiculous - without spoiling too much, one game involves a football field several thousand miles long and 1 yard wide. Among all of these ridiculous games and seemingly meaningless play, however, is a story about why we care, what immortality would actually be like, and how much people can care about things that don’t matter. It’s about how when we are faced with a seemingly pointless existence, we see all those things without meaning and we say “I’m going to care anyway”. I loved it. Please read it.

[shima-draws]

So. I just watched One Piece: Film Red,

[samaspic31]

I have many criticisms of tales of the jedi, but the main one is… why ? What’s the point of rehashing the comics and novels that much ? If that was to answer questions, people could look for the comics. Lots of these anecdotes felt redundant, things we could already easily deduct from previous media to me.

Also I’m not gonna lie I love the prequel era as much as the next guy but I’m tired 90%of the animated shows being set in it and recreating scenes of it. Feels like nostalgiabait more than a genuine exploration of the time period. I am also getting tired of lines being added for the sole purpose of getting people to point and shout like master like padawan !! Meaningless repetitions driving a point already made many times. The history of the Jedi spans so much more time than those 13 years we already have 3movies and hours of shows about, and harbours so much more diversity than the 6 members of the disaster lineage can ever exemplify, but it’s their stories that get told over and over the highest budget projects of Star Wars. Tell me a tale of high republic jedi, tell me about Luke’s student at his temple, tell me something long after the sequel trilogy, tell me the myths of the old republic. Why call it Tales of the Jedi as if it was about the Jedi as a whole if it’s gonna be tales of that one specific lineage

[notaplaceofhonour]

okay okay I know the point of this is “White people need to put as much effort into learning how to pronounce Black people’s names as they do foreign European names” and 100% I totally agree, absolutely good point

but this tweet becomes hilarious in the context of this clip:

anyways, absolutely put effort into learning how people pronounce their names. just don’t feel bad if it takes you some time to get it right 😅

(also in case you didn’t watch the video it’s “N-SHOO-tee” not “SHOO-tee”)

[gregmarriage]

me reading fight club and the talented mr ripley, back to back: “getting a lot of weird toxic gay vibes from this.”

[inupibaldspot]

Back off, kid.

Pairing: gojo satoru x reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : this is a part 2 but you don’t really ly need much context haha.

·:*¨༺ Part 1 ༻¨*:·

“You know you guys don’t really look alike.” You say as you bring your hands up and rearrange the tuft of hair to your liking, you hum when the other wise spiky persistent hair bends obediently.

While in-front of you there was a younger dark haired boy, face completely pink but doesn’t dare let any part of his body move from your touch. “We aren’t related so we shouldn’t look alike.” Fushiguro tries to act as normal as ever.

“You know he has been introducing himself as your dad in your PTAs.” you pull away with a smile. “Satoru says they get so shocked and think he is a teen-dad.” You laugh as you trail back to the memory, Gojo’s snarky comment on ‘If I’m Megumi’s dad then you’re his mom; Which makes you my wife~’ remains unsaid.

When you pull away, Fushiguro finally feels his body release tension and finally he lets out a sigh. He hopes Tsumiki comes back finishing her club meeting soon.

“Why are you sighing like a old man, Megumi?” You get up from cushion floor as you then proceed to sit on the nearby sofa and cross you legs, giving him a teasing smile.

Fushiguro looks away from you with a huff. “Just a small headache.” and maybe even a chest pain. Both caused by you.

You hum as you then let out a ‘ah—!’ as you then proceeded to smile and pat on you nap. “Come here.” You smile proudly.

Poor Fushiguro Megumi’s face burst into steam from the heat radiating off his face. “Like hell I can!”

“Megumi…” you said in a soft tone which make the younger boy flatter. “I’m not teasing, I’ll just give you a massage.”

The boy huffs and sits infront of his feet as he felt your gentle soft hands guide his head to you lap. His frown dissipates as he then lets out a sigh of relief upon the movement of your hands near his temple.

You let out a giggle to how Fushiguro was acting like an old man, maybe this is what happens to people who deal with Gojo on a daily basis. “How’s school? from next year you’re going to be a middle school student,megumi.”

It’s been a while since you visited, already finished with highschool and now acting as an active jujutsu sorcerer has kept you busy but still then you would always visit once a week, make them a good meal while also bringing in some groceries. You didn’t have to but you’ve always done it, your soul was so unwavering it warmed Fushiguro to his very core.

“I’ve been using the notes you’ve prepared for me so school is pretty smooth for now…” Fushiguro finally replied as he still doesn’t move his head from your lap, his eyes closed and arms crossed infront of him, cheeks with a rosey color.

“Thank god.” You beam, Fushiguro watches from the crack of his eyes. “It was actually my notes from back in the days. I always kept them with me.”

Fushiguro closes his eyes, the more he watches you the more he feels his heart constrict as if it ran a marathon. “y/n, I want to say… thank you—ugh!” The poor boy’s was pushed off your lap with a sudden but controlled push. “What the hell?”

“I’m so tiredddddd, y/n.” The voice almost purrs as there is a tuft of white hair on the plush of your thighs. You blink at Gojo who seemed to be looking at you from behind his bandages with a wide smiles plastered on his face. “Gimme a massage too~”

Fushiguro knows this scene too well.

Perhaps he wasn’t as subtle as he thought but any time he was too close to you, Gojo who is in his early 20s and almost a decade older than him always manages to throw him away. And now he watches you frowning and reprimanded Gojo for acting like that.

He sighs. “I’m leaving.”

You and Gojo quickly turn to his direction. You had a confused look to your face then it contours to something of worry. Was he mad at Gojo? Fushiguro could almost hear your thoughts.

Where as Gojo who currently has his head on his lap and one of his hand playing with your finger, give him a confused look before it turns into a full blown egotistical. ‘I won!’ smirk.

“Got homework.” Fushiguro turns and leaves.

“Satoru, you’re always acting like that to Megumi.” You say as you tear your hands away from his and then give his head a light ‘chop’.

“Then he shouldn’t touch what’s mine.” He huffs , as he closed his eyes and forms a sassy pout.

“What’s mine?” You question. “Did Megumi take something of yours?“

“No…Right now, it’s still with me.” Gojo opens his eyes, which makes your breath hitch. his eyes ever so beautiful as the evening glow assist its glimmer. “You know what I mean right?”

Your breath hitches and suddenly the room is much hotter,your heart races as it blooms in warmth.

Gojo’s face softens as he looks at your flustered face. “What I mean is… I’m in lo—UGH!”

“Sorry”

Suddenly a new enters the room, the same dark haired boy who left moments earlier. “My pencil slipped from my hand.”

“Megumi, you brat!” Gojo stands up, with currently a pencil stabbed on his forehead. Megumi threw it because he knew Gojo wouldn’t even think of letting his infinity be active when he was near you after all.

Gojo watches as Fushiguro gives him his usual deadpanned look before it turns into a full blown egotistical. ‘Hah! As if I’ll let you confess on my watch’ smile.

Taglist ˙✧˖° 🫧 ⋆｡— @lysaray @thirtykiwis @sillysillygoofygoose @hotvinimon @olivianyx @anan-baban @shirabaee @genticcs

Reblogs, like and comment are appreciated! Love this work? out other here

[crossbackpoke-check]

I was reading through your old reblogs and sage to say the tags you put on the Oilers shower post are amazing and I would love to read something like that!!

Copying and pasting the tags here (the blue text is the part I was talking about but I left the preceding tags for context if that makes sense?):

#there's another shower right next to the sitting shower 9 is it in the front corner of the picture? is that little glass alcove the entrance #to get in? like there's also horny potential for somebody in the big empty open space & somebody waiting to come in hesitating but you can #see their shadow & their silhouette in the glass the one outside the door knowing that the other is inside all alone showering but still not #coming in because they're giving them privacy etc being the last ones out & this doesn't feel like a connor/leon thing so maybe it's going #in the vague yamo pile but whoever's in the big shower room all alone jerking off & narrating & god knows sound would carry inside that #space & it could be that whoever's outside the door forgot something in there (left soap etc etc) & just happened to walk in on it (and/or #on whatever is going on in the shower stall) & can hear but can't see them but they can see them & can tell that they're watching/listening #through the frosted glass anyway ALSO what i was trying to get to with nuge/yamo (Imao i don't even think i said nuge at first) was like. #omega yamo who goes into heat/is playing through it & yamo gets ejected from the game with the narrative of nuge five for fighting for #defending him (maybe it's the end of the third maybe it's the second & nuge gets a 10 minute major & yamo gets pulled for a concussion check #because of the hit & then the doctors are like Imao stupid no you can't go back out you're in heat [yamo saw nuge fight for him 00] so the #two of them end up in there alone i like the middle of the second bc then nobody's there & wont be for a minute actually) but it's yamo in #the big open space & nuge outside the door checking to make sure he's okay & thinking that he'll be fine he can control it yamo won't smell #because he's in the showers nuge'll just bury his face in soap nuge waiting politely outside the door & yamo is being a MENACE. ohhhhh we're #gonna have to do research but what was the injury that yamo was out for be the original gifset that started this... this is the inciting event #yamo has been bullying nuge for AGES & by god he's gonna get what he wants even if it takes jerking off in the oilers home showers to bait #nuge into doing it. nuge like 'you ok?' has a conversation with yamo etc nuge: 'you gonna be ok to make it home' & yamo says yeah but not

If you were referring to the time Nuge fought Holl, it was a because Yamo took a bodycheck up high and he had to be taken back for concussion protocol just to be safe

^^^real life footage of me receiving and reading this ask 🥺🥰 i would ALSO love to read a fic like that akdhskdjak, but getting this ask made me actually start a doc for omega yamo being a nuisance so thank you (also if you wanted more vague thoughts, here’s the original gifset i reference)

i think i know exactly which fight you mean!! and i think it is saved in my drafts with unhinged thoughts waiting to be released 😇 if i’m right, this is a video that i had to save multiple times on multiple platforms because it was Important To Me

[ghostfacd]

IN A WORLD FULL OF BOYS, HE’S A GENTLEMAN ! | TOM BLYTH

PAIRING. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

SUMMARY. despite being in a world filled of childish boys, your boyfriend was definitely a gentleman, always putting you before him

AUTHORS NOTE. the third installment because we love tom blyth and yn avocot. I recommend reading part 1 and 2 for more context!

tomblyth “babe, do you think we’re together in every universe?” is that even a question?

tagged @/ynuser

view all comments

ynuser stoppp i didn’t know youd actually take the question seriously

user1 get you a man like tom blyth bc oh my god

user2 idk what yn did to manifest him but i need her ways

user3 ugh idk what he’s doing with her lol he could do so much better

➥ user4 well someone had to say it..

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

You didn’t understand how some people on the internet can be so . . . mean. Although there have been countless of fans cheering you and Tom on, it didn’t make it any less hurtful that there were still a ton who weren’t scared to be open about how much your boyfriend could do better.

It’s ironic; you think. They’re claiming they’re looking out for Tom, yet totally disregarding him and his girlfriend as human beings? Those weren’t real fans.

The reason for them hating you so much? Just for simply being with Tom. Everybody wanted him, that was your crime.

Everytime you got lost in your thoughts about this topic, Tom knew. Boyfriend instincts, he called them, but really, he was just a caring and observant person.

You tried not to break down over it, you really did, but a girl could only go on for so long before it all bursts out. Luckily, Tom pulls you right in, telling you to let it all out.

Although the world was filled with childish and hurtful beings, Tom Blyth was still who he was, a gentleman, attending to your every needs.

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

tomblyth really dgaf if you like my girlfriend or not cause i do and that’s all that matters

view all comments

user5 im cryinf the polaroid he has of her

user6 YES REAL MEN STAND UP FOR THEIR GFS

user7 ALL THE PICS HE HAS OF HER 🥹🥹

tomblythswife oh to be yn avocot and be loved by tom blyth

rachelzegler tell ‘em 🙊

user8 she doesn’t even comment on the posts he makes abt her, so self centered lol

➥ ynuser I’m right next to him rn?? cant say the same thing about you “lol”

➥ user9 OH SHE ATE YOU UP @/user8

tomblyth_daily here are some clips of tom talking about his relationship in his new interview! GET YOU A MAN THATS LIKE TOM BLYTH 🗣️🗣️🗣️

view all comments

user10 the way he’s so passionate when talking about her and being a good boyfriend, God I hate being single

user11 “they’re not even that cute” STFU AND GO WATCH THIS INTERVIEW CAUSE ??

user12 tom blyth said put aside your nonchalant attitudes, im looking at YOU MEN 🫵🫵

ilovetomblyth he’s so boyfriend it actually hurts

user13 yn must’ve saved a continent in her past life to be dating tom blyth omg

ynuser girls, before you have a meltdown over a boy: think of what balleona laurent would do. kiss and manipulate coriolanus!

view all comments

tomblyth you kiss and manipulate me too

➥ ynuser you’re gonna get me CANCELLED

user14 literal unbothered icon i love her

user15 if i were her id post a tiktok with that audio “he chose me he don’t want you”

iloveyn SHES SO FUNNY

lionsgate us when behind the scenes photo of balleona 😻

➥ user16 lmao stop who’s the admin of lionsgate

user17 balleona is such a bad person but oh is she hot

tomblyth she was like a shot of espresso

tagged @/ynuser

view all comments

ynuser i love u more than words can describe blyth

user18 ok who’s cutting onions

user19 GIRLS, GUYS, THEY THEMS, STOP SETTLING FOR BARE MINIMUM WHEN TOM BLYTH LITERALLY CALLED HIS GF A SHOT OF ESPRESSO, GIVES HER FLOWERS EVERYDAY, AND TALKS ABT HER ALL THE TIME IN HIS INTERVIEWS

➥ user20 YELL IT HARDER SISTER 👐👐👐

user21 this is so dark academica im inlove with u guys

user22 parentssss

rachelzegler my favorites

ynuser SNOW LANDS ON TOP LOSERS

view all comments

tomblyth yn, i love you but

➥ user23 LMFAOO when he doesn’t finish his sentence

user24 the second pic thank u yn

joshandresrivera on top of u maybe

➥ user25 IM DYING OML

user26 thank you to lionsgate for casting the most hottest villain couple ever

[jjongslutz]

이희승 HEESEUNG 💋 YOU'RE STILL A VIRGIN? [ MDNI. ]

IN WHICH you realize you never completed your most important new year's resolution: losing your virginity. luckily, your roommate is willing to help you out with that

WARNINGS ⨯ smut, porn with a smidge of plot for context, not proofread cuz who needs that, fingering, orgasm denial (briefly), missionary, very vanilla sex, heeseung's kinda awkward #pathetic_men

WORD COUNT ⨯ 3.1k

AUTHOR'S NOTE . . . first work of the year!! sorry for taking an impromptu break so suddenly, but my works will still be coming out slowly as of now, so thank you for your patience 🫶

# TAGLIST ! @wonkifangirl @chlorinecake @sunjaywoning @jaeyunthejakesim @deobitifull @notevenheretbh1 @jvngw0nlvr @jongszn @ineedsomezzz @haelahoops @seongslutt @fakeuwus @leeheeheeseung @aheewonenthusiast @lprww @wonsbaer @heeseungssidechick @smisworld @rayofsunshineeee @starrypen @heerated @snwosgf @nycapartmentsworld @sooyeonvida @dear-hoon @nikiiitties

“We never finished sharing our new year’s resolutions.”

You stop mid-bite into your pancakes. You and Heeseung had spent all morning making them, finally testing out the new oven you got after the last one broke down during another pancake morning. It survived, luckily. There’s only the taste-test left, but Heeseung’s comment catches you so off guard, you put the fork back down.

“New year’s resolutions?” you repeat. “You mean the ones from basically last year?”

He nods, shoving his first bite in. He hums at the taste. Success. “Yeah, we made those lists and started sharing but then—” Heeseung tilts and quirks his brow in thought. “—I can’t even remember. We probably got distracted, but either way, we never made sure we both completed our lists.”

Chuckling awkwardly, you keep your eyes on the plate. “I don’t even know if I still have mine—”

“I do,” Heeseung interrupts. “We put them in that box, remember? I found it this morning, that’s why I thought to bring them up, ha.”

“You didn’t, er, read them, did you?”

Heeseung shakes his head, chewing through another bite. “I thought it’d be fun to go through them and see what we’ve done or not.” He lightly taps his fork around his plate. “We’ve got a few days before the new year starts, no plans, I don’t know…”

“No, no, yeah, I get it,” you assure, nodding quickly. “I just, um, they were stupid. I was stupid. This year changed me, you know?”

Your roommate looks at you with a teasing glint in his eye. “Oh yeah?” He watches you nod again. “All the more reason to get them.” And before you know it, he’s rushing to his room to, you assume, get the box he’d mentioned earlier.

It’s not long before he’s practically skipping back into the kitchen-dining area bringing the box. Tossing his plate aside, he sets the box in between you two and sits back down. You’re anxious at how he unfolds the lid and pulls out two sheets of crumpled paper.

“Yours was the one with the rip at the top,” you say, reading the questions in his mind. Your face flushes as you realize that’ll only prompt him to take it out the other first.

He smiles at you before hiding his face behind the paper. He begins to read it out loud. “Resolution one: Learn how to make (good) pancakes—” Grabbing his fork, he clinks it twice against the porcelain. “Check. Number two: Make weekly savings—Check, right?”

You hum, your leg shaking beneath the table.

“Alright, and then—” He lowers the paper. Your eyes widen. “Lose my virginity?”

“Okay!” you say overenthusiastically. “See! I was being stupid, such a dumb thing to write on a new year’s resolution list, right? Haha, so funny, let’s just throw these out—”

“Wait, but we can cross this off, though, right? You had that boyfriend?”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend,” you clarify. “He was… gross. I never really liked him like that, so it just never happened. It’s whatever, I’m a virgin, okay, let’s move on. Isn’t the next thing I put down like eat more salads—”

“You’re still a virgin?”

You look at him bewildered. What was up with the intonation? Was it really shocking? Why does he even care? You suppose he’s always been the nosy type, just never assumed it would translate to this, as well.

He seems to realize the second meaning to his words and fumbles to take them back. “Okay, not like—I didn't mean it in a weird way, I’m just surprised that you’re... you know?”

“It’s… whatever,” you clarify. “It’s fine. It’ll happen at the right moment, right? That’s what they all say.” You'd shovel another bite into your mouth and you can’t help but taste the bitterness from your words with the sweetness of the syrup. “I’ll get over it when it’s done and gone.”

Heeseung clears his throat, paper discarded to the side, his eyes fixed on your plate in deep thought. “Do you…”

You raise a brow.

“Do you want my help?”

-

In your defense, you really hate being a virgin. Not that it’s embarrassing or shameful to be one, but the fact that you swore to yourself that you wouldn't be a virgin anymore since last year makes you want to crumble up inside.

You just don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of your past self. Imagine her laughing at you? That’s a new low.

Which leads to this moment right now. Laying in Heeseung’s bed, in Heeseung’s room, waiting for Heeseung to come back into said room with the “supplies” he was rushing out to get.

The door slowly swings open as Heeseung pushes it with his back, his hands full. He makes eye contact with you and a pout makes its way across his lips. “You’re still wearing your clothes?”

Your eyes snap open wider. “Yes?!”

“We’re gonna have sex, Y/N, your clothes aren’t supposed to be on.” He smiles at you as he sets down lube and condoms.

A wave of relief washes over you when you realize he’s just teasing. Heeseung’s a gentleman, but it’s not like you've gotten the chance to know the side of him you two swore to never let you meet. He could’ve been a weirdo creep for all you knew, as long as he was paying his half of the rent it never mattered until right now.

“Do you want me to turn around when you take them off?” Yep, just the same old awkwardly sweet Heeseung you’ve always known.

You smile, albeit nervously. “You’ll see me naked anyway, might as well put on a strip performance to get you in the mood.”

He laughs at your sarcasm, then points to the lights. “We could turn those off if you want.”

For a moment, you consider it. If not for the hopes of Heeseung seeing the least possible, but for the ambiance. Do people leave the lights on or off during sex? Not like you know. Ultimately, you shake your head, getting off from the bed and sticking your hands under the hem of your shirt. “Ready?” you ask him, though the question is more internalized.

His hum is muffled by his hands reaching at the collar of his shirt.

At once, you two pull your shirts off together.

Standing bare chest to bare chest - with bra - you eye him carefully. “You take your shirt off from the top?”

“What?”

You mirrored his previous action. “You took your collar and pulled your head through the neck hole first—” your words muffle as you reenact it sloppily. “Normal people take their arms out first.”

Heeseung stiffles a laugh behind his hand. “Aren’t you supposed to try to seduce me?”

“Is this not sexy?”

“Oh, please, go on, you’re making me hard.”

The two of you laugh and you realize you’re not so nervous anymore. The anxious jitters left your hands and you can feel your muscles relaxing. It’s just Heeseung. Just Heeseung.

As he recovers from a fit of laughter, you look at him in a way you haven’t taken the chance to ever since you met almost two years ago. His arms that flex when he wraps them around himself. His smile which switches to a sly smirk when he’s resisting the urge to laugh louder. His hair that falls neatly into place, over his eyes that glint to the point you can’t take your gaze away from them.

Heat rushes to your cheeks.

He’s attractive. Yeah, that’s been obvious.

Your type? Maybe…

But this is different. And, oh god, he’s going to have sex with you.

Heeseung clears his throat, snapping you out of your daze.

“Pants?” he asks cautiously. His eyes are brimmed with concern, probably sensing your confused thoughts, clearly not understanding what you’re telling yourself.

You respond by tugging at your sweatpant laces, letting them drop down dramatically. Heeseung keeps his eyes glued to your movement, eyes widening at the sight of your bare legs and white panties. He quickly reaches for his belt.

To your surprise, you can see that he’s, at the very least, getting hard. Maybe it’s nerves. You try not to think too much about the possible influence the sight of your almost-bare body has on him.

Still, to test the waters and ease or completely disrupt your mind, you ask, “Can you help me with my bra?”

He fumbles an answer, you’re pretty sure you hear a ‘yes’ through his blabs, as he kicks out of his pants fully and stumbles to your side of the bed. You turn your back to him, giving him the cue by raising your hair away from the clasp.

Shivers run down your spine at his gentle, warm touch on your skin. You never knew you were sensitive, but with every simple movement, every brush against your back has you feeling goosebumps running up your arms.

Heeseung’s breath is hollow behind you.

When the clasp is finally undone, you pull your arms out of the straps, letting the material drop to the floor with your other discarded clothes.

You turn to face Heeseung, his eyes saying more than any words could mean. Stunned, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whisper in return, eyes drifting down to his mouth.

He doesn't hesitate to lean in. His arms naturally slide around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as his lips hungrily crash into yours. You gasp through the initial shock of ferocity, relaxing into his hold with your hands coming up to the nape of his neck.

His fingers squeeze your skin pulling a sound from your mouth, muffled by his lips. You don’t even notice the way his knees push you back until you’re laying on the bed, lips still attached to Heeseung’s, but even those pull away eventually. You almost get up onto your elbows to chase after his touch, but stop yourself at the sight of his intense gaze.

Your gazes lock with each other for a moment, before he finally breaks contact to rush to the bedside cabinet where the lube bottle sits. He pours a generous amount on his fingers, rubbing the gel slowly. He eyes the way it reflects the light and this one reaction makes you think he’s never seen it before, but you doubt it — you’ve heard his sexual escapades thanks to your graciously thin walls.

“I’m going to finger you first,” Heeseung interrupts your thoughts.

You simply hum in return, letting your legs fall apart for him to get back into place, between them.

Heeseung has one hand on your thigh, the other levitates over your skin with nearly-dripping lube, but his eyes are on yours, waiting for another nod before he can continue.

Giving him the signal, you aren’t prepared for the chill that runs down your spine at the cold sensation of the lube on your sensitive skin. Soon enough, though, your gasps turn to gentle hums as Heeseung draws little circles on your bare pussy.

“This okay?”

You nod needily.

One finger finally intrudes, swimming through your walls and curls to find that certain spot. Your hips roll into it—you never thought it'd be this different from your own fingers.

“More,” you whimper.

“Already?” Heeseung teases, but you can hear partial genuinity in his tone.

Wordlessly, your hand reaches down to his, pulling at it to get another finger inside of you.

Heeseung chuckles in disbelief, but doesn't disobey your request.

Two fingers in and you’re letting soft gasps escape your lips, eyes already threatening to roll back at the rhythmic pattern Heeseung’s keeping up. He pushes in, pulls out, pushes back in and curls into you. You match his pace with your hips, hoping to deepen his touch. He’s so close, so close to where you need him.

Meanwhile, his thumb rolls gently over your clit to ease the tension of the stretch. It helps, making your head spin and forcing you to focus entirely on the pleasure you feel, rather than the pain.

Heeseung doesn't warn you when he slips in a third, but you’re busy throwing your head back, moaning to tell him off for it.

“Fuck,” you whisper to the ceiling. “‘Is so good.”

Your back arches as Heeseung’s fingers reach your G-spot, curling and tickling the bundle of nerves, ripping out more muffled moans, your hand thrown to your mouth not to disturb the neighbours.

“Right there!” you moan. “Right—shit, yes—Right there!” When he keeps at it, you can't hold on much longer. “Fuck, I’m so close—”

And then it’s gone.

All the pleasure is ripped away from you as Heeseung pulls out of you coldly, barely looking your way as he turns to the bedside cabinet.

“Hey,” you whine, albeit childishly.

It’s as if something clicks and he turns back to you. “Sorry,” he singsongs out. “I didn’t want you to come so soon, I still have to actually fuck you, right?”

You pout, but ultimately he’s right. That’s what you're here for. “Fine.”

He fumbles with the condom packet, eventually giving up at going at it with his lubed-fingers and rips the package with his teeth.

“I could’ve helped,” you tell him, smiling teasingly.

“I got it. I got it.” He waves his hand at you before he uses that same hand to roll down the condom and—Holy. Shit. He’s packing.

You never took the time to think about his size, though you probably would've determined it was a decent size from the outline of it when he's chilling on the couch with sweats on.

But now that it's out, hard and flush against his toned abs? You take a deep breath and try not to think too much about how it must taste, how it’d feel to have him down your throat—as if you even know how to give a proper blowjob. Maybe he could guide you, holding your head from the back and pushing it back and forth rhythmically up and down his cock and—

“Y/N?”

“Huh?”

“I asked if you’re sure about this?”

He’s pumping his cock as he asks. You resist the urge to lick your lips.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m ready.” And there’s no lie in your words.

Heeseung crawls back onto the bed once more, staying on his knees when his body is lined up with yours. He nods to himself and you before lining up his dick with your entrance, one hand falling to the side of your head, the other resting on your lower stomach as he pushes in slowly.

The intrusion is unfamiliar. The stretch hurts more than expected. Yet, your mouth is agape in frozen pleasure — Heeseung let his hand fall lower and is now drawing circles on your clit to ease the tension.

He keeps his thumb on your pussy while slowing his movement to a stop. “Tell me when I can move.”

Instead of relaxing into the stretch, preparing yourself for more friction, you focus entirely on Heeseung’s movements on your clit. Rolling the bud of pleasure between his two fingers, your eyes flutter shut in pleasure.

You test the waters by flexing your core muscles, squeezing your walls against Heeseung’s cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, snapping his hips forward at once, but he quickly stops himself. Heeseung looks up at you with cutely worried wide eyes. “Shit, sorry—Are you okay?”

You giggle. “Go!” you say between laughs, rolling your hips down to get him going.

He doesn't need to be told twice. He quickly resumes his previous thrust, your legs are naturally pushed apart to give him more access—moans spill from your lips at the newfound depth he reaches.

Heeseung’s head dips, his hair falling over his face, but does nothing to hide his expressions. You watch him for a moment, reveling in how good your pussy is making him feel. You clench around him again and his mouth falls open. He lets out the most harmonious sound you never expected from him but want to hear again and again.

So, you roll your hips into his, until your lower stomachs are threatening to brush against each other, until Heeseung lowers from his hands to elbows, and your bodies are flushed against each other. Your skins are sticky with sweat, but you can’t be bothered. Not with his rhythmic thrusts reaching so deep inside of you. Not with his fingers still playing with your clit, torturing the bud with nonstop pleasure. Not with his lips so close to your mouth, and your head pulling itself upward to capture them in another kiss.

Your hands snake to the back of his head, curling into his messy hair and pulling gently to bring him closer to you. His free hand finds its way into your hair, too, pushing the flyaways back into the rest of the mess, away from your face, before it rests gently on your neck, guiding you in the kiss.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers into your mouth as your walls clench around him again.

Your head spins at his low tone, pleasure bubbling in your stomach in a way it never has before. “I’m—Shit—I’m so close!”

Heeseung takes this as a signal to speed up his fingers on your clit, and slows down his thrusts, deepening them with each push in.

“Come on, come for me.”

And you do.

So much, like never before.

Your back arches into him, head thrown back, letting out a sinful string of moans. You’d curse from the pleasure, but your thoughts aren't coherent enough to form words.

You’re frozen in place, legs shaking as Heeseung pulls out to finish himself off. He jerks off into the condom on top of your wasted body, coming undone as soon as your dazed eyes meet his hungry gaze.

He doubles over, landing on his hand, face mere inches away from yours. “Fuck,” he says.

“Fuck,” you repeat, a giggle in your tone.

“Congratulations,” he says, rolling onto his back to be laying beside you. “You’re no longer a virgin.”

Your weak arms raise in a small celebration. “Yay.”

“How was it?”

You can’t even respond, hands coming up to cover your flushed face. You can feel Heeseung’s smirk behind them.

“I’ll take that as good.” Then, after a beat. “Does that mean you'd want to do it again?”

Your hands fall flat to your sides in one quick movement. “What?”

“There’s so much more I can teach you.”

“No,” you say while shaking your head. He looks defeated, you almost want to reach up and pet him like a dog. “Not until you buy me dinner.”

[ashleysturn]

dirty laundry - matt sturniolo

context: after a long day of filming with matt and his brothers you’re spending the night at their house. you decide to take a shower before bed.

nsfw

<———————————————➰———————————————>

“i set a towel in the bathroom” matt says

“thanks” i grab my bag and walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

i undress myself and get into the shower.

-a few mins later

knock knock “hey y/n?”

“uh yeah?”

“i’m about to throw a load of laundry in, can i grab your clothes?”

i hold the shower curtain closed fully “uh sure thanks”

the bathroom door opens and i hear matt step in “alright cool, sorry carry on”

he leaves the bathroom with my clothes and shuts the door behind him.

-

i get out of the shower and dry off with the towel matt left out for me. i rummage through my bag looking for my pajamas.

i pull out a matching bra and panties set and a soft velvet hello kitty pajama set- shorts and a tank top.

i get dressed and wrap my hair up in the towel.

i do my skincare and put lotion on my body

i walk out of the bathroom and down the corridor to the living room where everyone else is hanging out.

“how was your shower?” matt asks

“uhm good, thanks” i sit down on the couch next to him.

-

later that night after chatting and watching a funny movie, nick and chris head up to bed.

“are you getting tired y/n?”

i nod my head “a bit”

matt gets up and stretches “i might head to bed honestly”

“okay.” i pause “wait is the laundry done? i have to leave early i don’t want to forget it.”

matt pauses, his face almost turns white “uh yeah it should be. i’ll go check”

i follow him to the laundry room.

he gets on his knees and opens the dryer “hmm” he rummages through

“here” he hands me my shorts, tshirt, and bra

i smile and take them “thanks.”

“i- uh.”

matt looks up at me “what is it? did they shrink?”

i shake my head “no i’m just missing something, can i look through the rest?”

matt sighs and scratches the back of his neck “uh yeah go ahead. i’m gonna go to bed”

he walks into his room on the other side of the hallway, and i start looking though the laundry.

where the fuck are my panties?

i look through all the laundry but can’t find them. damn it. my dirty panties are here somewhere.

i retrace my steps. i look in the bathroom, behind the sink, in the hallway, under the washing machine, i dig through my bag.

nothing.

i guess i’ll i look for them the morning. i mean i wouldn’t care if they were clean but i wore them all day filming.

<———————————————➰———————————————>

-in the morning-

my alarm goes off early. i groan- i hate getting up early.

i’m assuming i’m only person awake in the house, the triplets always sleep in.

i get my belongings together and knock on matt’s door

“matt?” i knock again

i hear noises and shifting coming from behind the door.

“hey matt? you said you’d take me home” i open the door

my eyes widen and my jaw drops. i see my panties in matt’s hand wrapped around his dick

“fuck y/n! get out!” he yanks his blanket over his lap

“fuck sorry sorry!” i turn around and slam the door

what the fuck just happened

a few moments later matt walks out of his room “y/n im sorry i-“

“no i shouldn’t of just walked in” i interrupt, shaking my head

matt nods awkwardly “so uh.. you need me to take you home?”

i pause for a moment before changing the subject. “were those my..”

“yeah.” matt says ashamedly, looking at his feet.

i look down as well, i see an obvious tent in matt’s shorts- which were on backwards since he quickly threw them on.

he bites his bottom lip “i- uh”

“i mean i don’t have to go home quite yet” i shrug my shoulders

matt looks up at me with a confused look in his eyes

“i can stay for a bit.” i glance down at matt’s crotch

matt smiles mischievously, he reaches out and grabs my hands, guiding them down to his bulge. butterflies fill my stomach.

i let him guide my hands, i wrap my hand around matt’s clothed dick, he lets out a groan, shooting his head back.

“come to my room” he says huskily, stumbling to reach for the doorknob behind him.

i follow after him into the room. i sit down on the edge of his bed. he shuts and locks the door

Matt walks up to me and pushes me back on the bed which catches me by surprise.

he spreads my legs apart by my knees and crawls on top of me. i look up at him with needy eyes.

he pushes his hair out of his face and lifts his shirt off before pulling me closer to him by my hips

“fuck are you sure?” matt and looks down at me.

i nod my head “mhm.”

i lift off the bed a bit and slide off my shorts

i notice matt glancing down and biting his bottom lip

he places his hand softly on my jaw and lifts up my face to look him in the eyes. he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to my lips.

i let out a soft moan against his lips and wrap my arms around him.

matt reaches down and places his fingers on my clit through my panties, the sudden contact sending a shiver through my body. fuck.

“this okay pretty girl?” he speaks as he starts tracing shapes over my clit

my breath hitches “yeah.. yes” i look back to him with needy eyes.

matt traces the elastic waistband of my panties and slowly slides his hand under them

“mmm- you’re so wet for me” matt groans.

“please matt” i whine

“tell me what you want y/n” he teases my entrance with his fingers

“matt” i lift up the lower half of my body for more contact

“say it” he starts to slowly push a finger into me

“oh fuck. more.. please” i beg

matt pushes a second finger in and starts pumping in and out of me. he curls his fingertips up to hit my g-spot. each bit of contact sending shockwaves through my body.

“feels so fucking good” i spit out

matt grins as he continues to finger me. my stomach ties up in a knot and my walls pulse around his fingers.

i see matt’s eyes darken. he can definitely feel that i’m close. his hair is sticking to his forehead and his teeth are sunken into his bottom lip

i grip onto his back, my nails leaving marks

“finish on my fingers y/n” he quickens the pace, hitting my g-spot with every pump

i practically lift off the bed, my legs shaking sporadically. that pressure in my stomach releases and i clench around matt’s fingers. i let out a shriek and matt’s spare hand goes to cover my mouth

“good girl” he slowly pulls out his fingers and sucks my juices off of them. “you taste so good”

i pant and look up at him. “you can take more, yeah?”

i nod my head. matt slides down his shorts and boxers in one motion.

he strokes himself a few times before lining up his tip to me.

he’s so big.

“ready pretty girl?”

i nod my head again. i have no words.

matt grins and slowly pushes into me

“can you spread your legs more for me?” he gently pushes my legs apart more.

he slowly pumps in and out of me with only half of his length stretching me out.

“you’re so big” i moan. matt just shakes his head

“you okay?” he brushes my hair out of my face

“mhm” i nod my head.

i wince as matt bottoms out, he lets out a whimper.

“so tight” he starts to thrust into me faster. he leans down to place kisses on my neck.

matt reaches under my shirt and up to my chest. he runs his fingertips over my nipples, i let out a moan

“fuck your noises are so pretty” matt thrusts faster into me “i’m gonna cum y/n”

my stomach knots up again and my walls tighten around matt’s dick

he lets out a whimper and i feel warmth filling me up

“fuck sorry” he slowly pulls out and a string of white gushes out of me. he uses his discarded shirt to clean me off. the fabric touching me when i’m so sensitive makes me shiver

i smile. “thanks matt.”

matt crashes down next to me and opens his arms for me to lay on his chest.

“you should leave your dirty laundry here more often he teases”

i giggle, my head laid on his chest.

“i’m keeping those panties by the way” he laughs, wrapping his arms tighter around me.

<———————————————➰———————————————>

an: i loveddd writing this. it’s been in my drafts for like a week but i just finished it hehe hope u enjoy 💋

((also not fully proofread sorry. also my next fic will be chris!))

[ceilidho]

sirius c

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 7; ghoap x reader) [tags: noncon, implied cheating (in the context of Ghost's refusal to be a negotiation king lol), very nsfw] first part >> last part

-

No one tells you what to do when you finally notice the larger animal watching you from the thicket. 

It's been awhile now, you suspect. So long that it's managed to follow you all the way home.

Now they insist on helping you around the shop while you try to work. Try being the operative word. It’s hard to get much done with Simon scaring off all the customers and Johnny dogging at your heels, practically glued to your hip. You briefly consider stabbing him with the snips but then think the better of it. Simon’s stare follows you too closely for you to think you’d get away with it. 

Plus, after this morning—you cut that thought off at the root lest embarrassment make your eyeballs burn right out of your head. Despite the fact that he never brings it up, you can’t shake the thought that Simon knows. His face is just as expressionless with the mask off, which rests like a heavy weight on the kitchen table, imbued with a meaning too potent, too loaded, for you to fully digest or, really, understand in any concrete way. 

But the glint in his flinty eyes flirts with amusement. Brushes close to it. 

“What?” you snap, eggs dangling precariously from your fork.

His stare hasn’t wavered once since sitting you across from him. He doesn’t smirk nor snicker, but you can feel the laugh like a phantom limb that aches until you try to scratch it. He has a face carved from marble or granite, subject to some horrific fate. A statue pulled down from its pedestal and hauled into the river, now dragged out waterlogged and barnacle-crusted. Something terrible happened here and now something else wears its face.

His knees knock against yours under the table again, forcing one leg to spread to accommodate him. You stare at the elbow resting on your table as he chews off the end of a strip of bacon.

He doesn’t say anything, but you know he must have heard you and Johnny in the washroom earlier in the morning. Simon hadn’t even attempted to feign sleep when you’d come out flustered and turned around, stomach in knots. 

You can’t even look at Johnny for help because he stands behind the two of you at the counter, no space for him at your small kitchen table. Your life isn’t built to accommodate two men of their size; it’s hardly able to hold space for just the one.

Nevertheless, they stretch it to fit their needs.

Begrudgingly, you have to admit that Simon does help you out around the flower shop. He fixes the door to the supply closet that always jams, hoses down the sidewalk in front of the store where someone vomited near the entryway the night before, and even gives you a couple hours alone to yourself when he drags Johnny with him to do the bouquet deliveries. 

They come back with coffee in takeaway cups and pastries in a waxy bag and you nearly moan when you notice the label on the cup. Coffee from the good coffee shop across town. You actually moan when you sink your teeth into an almond croissant and then blink your eyes open wide when you hear Johnny groan in response. 

You steel yourself to keep your knees from knocking together.

It’s been a week since you saw him last. Hard to believe. You’ve been distant, rightfully so, contemplating the state of your relationship and coaxing yourself to the brink of texting him that it’s over, only to give up at the last possible minute. The tides receding again. 

You don’t think about how much you missed him. 

Since this morning, you’ve been on edge. Half tempted to corral Johnny into your apartment upstairs for some alone time. You don’t think Simon would allow that though, whether out of some sadistic glee in seeing you squirm or out of jealousy. It doesn’t seem unlikely. He acts like Johnny is his to do with what he pleases, and Johnny beams up at him like the sun and lets him.

You hadn’t realized there had been a third person in your relationship. Now it feels like his presence has always been felt. You can’t imagine Johnny without the half-shadow cast over his face.

All day, you wait for Johnny to break. Part of you hopes that it’ll be sooner rather than later. Unless he’s been entertaining someone on the side—and, for reasons unbeknownst to you, you discount that thought the second it comes to you, sure that you’d know if there was another woman—it’s likely that he hasn’t fucked in a week. He acts like it too, hovering close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. Every accidental step back comes with a chance of landing straight into his arms. 

When you touch his arm gently to ask him to help you move a heavy flower pot, he looks down at you with irises gone black, ready to fuck on a dime. It’s not the right place or time, and you’re still tremendously pissed at him for letting his superior grope you in front of their whole platoon or whatever, but you’ve also gone a week without his dick, and you’re starting to think that your pride shouldn’t get in the way of good dick.

But then he looks over at the hulking figure haunting the doorway and draws back. The shadow on your relationship again. The tension breaks. Even though he postures and flexes when he helps you move the flower pot, it doesn’t come with an invitation to sneak away to your apartment upstairs. Johnny grits his teeth and holds himself back because Simon tells him to; because, in Simon’s own words, he’s a good lad. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask Simon when Johnny goes to take a leak, but he just stares at you with eyes still darkened by poorly wiped off eye black. 

The oxygen is sucked out of the room when it’s just the two of you. He’s imposing from afar, accentuated by the innate knowledge—gleaned just from looking at him, nothing more than that, just the size of him in his line of work—that he’s the most dangerous thing around, but with no one else to hide behind, you can’t help but feel like a trapped animal. 

“Means he knows who’s in charge,” he says. 

Like that’s supposed to tell you anything. 

The air still crackles with tension when Johnny comes back. He glances around almost nervously, pupils dilating. 

“The two of ye finally gettin’ on?” he asks.

There’s a moment where you consider ripping the veil down and saying, no, we aren’t, Johnny. You quisling. You can see exactly how uncomfortable I am. It’s more than visible; it’s oozing from my pores. You’ve let a wild animal into my house and now it won’t leave. In fact, it’s pissing on my sheets to mark its territory. You let it in knowingly, and even though you know something’s wrong, you’re letting it get worse.

Simon’s smile is severe and whetted when he cuts off your train of thought. “Reckon we're getting on like a house on fire, eh?” 

You can’t muster more than a weak smile and nod in response to that.

Around mid afternoon, a regular client calls in with a large, last minute order. You accept it because it’s nothing you don’t already have in stock, but it means you have to close the shop early to work on her order and then load up the van to drive to her place to drop the flowers off.

“I’ll come with you,” Simon grunts when you flip the sign and tell the two of them about your plans.

You freeze, a shudder rippling down your spine. “That’s not necessary—I can do it myself.”

“Don’t care.”

“I do it all the time when you’re not here!”

“It’s not up for debate,” he says, eyes going hard. Daring you to argue.

You’ve been getting the sense all day that he’s been trying to corner you, trying to get you on your own. You evade his efforts like a prey animal, but all that does is make him work harder for it. 

You look to Johnny for any kind of reassurance, someone to back you up and agree that you’re more than capable since you do this all the time, but he just grins from behind the counter where he helps cut lengths of cellophane and ribbon for the bouquets. “Aye, hen, let him help. Ye cannae carry all of that yourself.”

Your brain clicks back on when you’re barrelling towards your client’s place at breakneck speed, far too fast for a residential road. It’s not you driving though. Simon has himself parked in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel and the other dangling loosely out the window. His driving makes your stomach churn, nausea brewing. You bone-knuckle the grab handle reflexively. 

“Could you slow down?” you hiss out through clenched teeth.

Simon ignores you until you start to scroll through your phone to distract yourself. He transfers the hand on the wheel to jostle your knee with his free hand. “Eyes on the road.”

“I’m not even driving you,” you squawk, heart thudding in your chest when his hand doesn’t lift off your knee. 

“Tell me when to turn, doll.” The pet name makes your stomach jump. When he says it, his hand tightens over your knee, thick fingers with scraped up knuckles curling around, the width of his palm wider than your kneecap and you stare down dumbly, rabbit heart careening at the same speed as the van. 

You’re so dumbfounded that you nearly miss the street. He takes the turn suddenly when you mention it instead of making the sensible call to go up the next street and then come back down, and you swear and yell when he nearly takes the van onto the right two wheels. 

The sweat is still dripping down the nape of your neck when he parks in front of the client’s venue.

Simon ignores any attempt of yours to help unload the van. All you can do is watch helplessly as he carries multiple arrangements into the venue at once, leaving you to handle the contract and payment collection. The situation is spiraling rapidly out of your control. 

Your client, a housewife about a decade or so older than you, eyes him as he passes with two flower pots tucked under his arms. 

“I didn’t know you changed staff,” she murmurs, eyes following him into the next room and lingering on the backs of his thighs when he bends down to deposit the flower pots, making the material of his pants strain tight around his glutes and hamstrings. 

“I didn’t,” you protest, shaking your head. “That’s—he’s my boyfriend’s coworker. Um, his boss, I mean. I think. He’s just helping out for the day.”

“Well, I know how I’d like him to help out,” someone else giggles. One of the venue staff, judging by her uniform. Even your client titters at that.

Simon’s more approachable with the mask off, it seems. Still verging on the preternatural, but at least without the mask he seems more human. All six-foot-five-inches of him, arms and legs packed with a generous helping of muscle and fat; a square jaw must be appealing to any sex-parched person within range. It makes your jaw clench.

“Here’s your receipt,” you grit out before ripping it off the payment terminal and handing it to her. She blinks at your dour mood, unused to a less than professional version of you, but that’s what Simon’s presence does to you. Sours you right up. A lemon squeezed right into the mouth.

He’s posted by the van when you come out still scowling and itching for a row. He frowns at the look on your face. “Fix your attitude. You’ve already upset Johnny enough.”

You halt in your tracks, dumbstruck. “I’ve upset Johnny?”

“Yeah. So fix it before we get back.”

You’ve officially reached your limit. All day, you’ve been waiting to go nuclear, bad mood settling deeper and deeper into you because you’ve never been good at managing your anger. The audacity to blame you for this whole situation nearly makes you lose your head. 

Simon looks almost bored when you stomp up to him and stab a finger into his chest. You pointedly do not let yourself focus on how little his chest gives beneath your finger. “All of this was your fault for sexually harassing me in the first place. I don’t even think you were ever sorry for that—this all just feels like some fucked up attempt to break me and Johnny up.”

He stares down at you. “You think I want Johnny for myself?”

Heat flares under your collar, but you push on. “I do. And you know what? You can have him. I don’t need this. Johnny clearly values your approval more than mine anyway or none of this ever would have happened once he caught you groping me in broad daylight. If you want him so bad, nothing I do is going to work, so why even bother? He’s yours. The both of you can fuck off when we get back—I’m sick of having you in my space.”

The tirade leaves you panting by the end of it, and then you look into his eyes. 

You wonder if it’s a universal phenomenon to sense the moment when you’ve made a grave miscalculation. It must be. The feeling is overwhelming; for you, it throbs in your very bones. 

Simon’s expression never changes, but the light behind his eyes starts to flicker in a different way, and you are suddenly conscious of him not just as a man but as a man paid to kill. A professional at that. At least a dozen bodies under his belt and likely more, and yet you stand chest to chest with him like you’re somehow tougher than that; like all those bodies mean nothing, like his knife hasn’t quenched its bloodthirst ad infinitum, like his arms haven’t felt a neck crack until it’s become a habit, an easy kill, a morning fix. 

You’ve never felt more like meat than under his gaze. 

“Get your ass in the van,” he commands, and you listen because your mouth has gone dry and you understand now, somewhere deep in your reptile brain, a little creature hissing at you to turn and run, that he doesn’t warn. He just does. 

Humiliation festers under your skin when he buckles you in. Your mouth opens on a smart remark until you catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye and it’s all anger leaking tar, mafic lava dark and flowing, smooth and lobed and striated with hellfire. 

You think at first that he’s just going to drive you home. Your words might have offended him, but the lack of refutation makes you think that at his core, he must agree. Simon is just another man with an unholy allegiance to ego, an ugly incarnation of desire and pride that you might have briefly mistook as a person as complex as yourself until he snuffed that inkling right out with a hand on your ass. 

Then, lost in your thoughts, you miss when he pulls over and puts the van in park. 

You hear the click of your seatbelt, but your head doesn’t have time to turn before Simon hauls you over the center console and into his lap, a hand already clamping over your mouth to muffle your scream. 

“I’ve had enough of the fuckin’ attitude, girl,” Simon snarls into your ear, shoving his hand down the front of your pants without any preamble, the stretchy jogger fabric not putting up any resistance. “I haven’t got the patience for it. We’ll sort you out and knock these stupid notions from your skull.”

You must shriek under his palm because his fingers tighten, digits pressed into your jaw to the point of aching. It’s hard to tell under the white hot fear that washes over you, nearly blinding you. 

If it bothers him to find you dry under your panties, he doesn’t say anything. Calloused fingers spread your labia wide and trace over your clit lazily, trying to coax the slick out of you. You squirm in his hold, desperate to somehow wriggle out, but Simon chooses now to give you a glimpse of his strength, holding you tight to his chest. No matter how much you squirm, there’s no way out of his hold. Shouting behind his palm doesn’t help either; Simon just curls his hand tighter over your mouth. 

Horror blooms in your chest when your core starts to warm up at his touch. The first traitorous bead of wetness nearly has you apoplectic with rage. His fingers saw up and down over your slit until he thinks you’re wet enough to handle two fingers shoved knuckle deep. 

“Enough of that,” Simon grunts when you yelp and knee the underside of the steering wheel in your haste to get away. “It’s just two. You’ve been fucked before; you can take it.”

Your knee aches from slamming into the steering wheel, but it’s nothing compared to the ache of his fingers stretching you open, the skin around his knuckles delicate and febrile. For all his flaws, Johnny loves getting his mouth on your pussy before trying to cram his cock in, addicted to the taste of you on his tongue when he’s got you folded in half and taking his dick like a champ. Simon seems like he wouldn’t mind railing you in the back of the van without any prep whatsoever. 

“Can’t wait to break you on my cock,” he growls, his breath hot over your neck, and lust stinking up the van so bad that the air is nearly rancid with it. Sulfuric. “You think you’ve had it rough with Johnny? You don’t have a fuckin’ clue what you’re in for with me.”

His hunger is a noxious, billowing cloud. Miasma like. It threatens to smother you. His shaft is hard under your ass, evident when he thrusts his hips up. Your ensuing yip makes him grunt, gratified, like his pleasure comes part from your shock. 

“I’m not explaining this shit anymore. This is the way it’s gonna be from now on—no discussion, no arguing, no nothing. It’s not up for negotiation.”

Simon’s fingers piston into you without remorse, brutal hunger foisted off on your body. You again try desperately to push away from him, almost levitating out of his arms until he forces you back down and bites down hard over your clothed shoulder. The horn stays silent when you try to honk it, mocking you somehow. You wonder if anyone would hear your muffled cries from beneath Simon’s hand if they happened to pass by, or if they’d chance a glance into the van and see the devil himself playing with your pussy in his lap and keep on walking. 

Your body plays you for a fool though, sweltering under his touch. When he growls in your ear, your pussy clenches up nice and tight, and slick drips down your inner thighs. 

A third finger nearly makes you choke on your gasp. You go quiet after that save for the occasional whimper, all of your energy concentrated on accommodating his fingers, each as wide as almost two of yours. A fourth almost doesn’t feel fathomable, but then he sinks it into you and every thought leaks out of your head.

“Christ, you’re a dream when you shut your mouth, aren’t you, doll?” Simon breathes, nosing the corner of your jaw. “Johnny picked a nice little cunt for himself.” 

He doesn’t pick up on the irony somehow. Even shaking in his lap, your brows furrow at his words, a barb on the tip of your tongue until a glob of slick leaks from you and wrenches you back out of your head. 

He clicks his tongue against his teeth all condescendingly when your breathing goes hitched and panicked, so close to coming that you feel a hairsbreadth from it. When you jump at the sound of his tongue snapping in your ear, he chuckles, the broad chest at your back shaking with his laughter.

“There we go,” Simon murmurs, rubbing a soothing hand over your belly. “Tired, eh? Just need to come and have a nap. I know Johnny left you hanging this morning. Poor girl.”

You hadn’t even noticed that he’d dropped his hand from your mouth to your stomach, but there’s nothing to do about it now. All you can do is lean back against him and stare at the fine, blond hair on his knuckles as he drags it over your belly button in slow, languid strokes. 

“Oh god—” you groan when he thumbs your pearled clit and sinks his fingers in as deep as they’ll go, your hole stretched too tight. 

Sweat beads on your hairline. It feels like tears might be leaking down your cheeks, but it’s hard to say. The only thing you can do is focus on not coming apart at the seams.

The air in the van is moistened by your breath, the windows almost completely fogged up. Your lower back aches from arching into his hand. When it comes out in a sob, he tells you he’ll have Johnny massage it when the two of you get home. 

“It’s always gonna hurt a little with me,” Simon says, and you almost mistake it for apologetic until he pulls you into an open-mouthed kiss that makes you twist your neck and ignores the way you whimper into his mouth.  

You nearly black out when he finally makes you come, your head tipping back and resting on his shoulder. You tense in his grasp and open your mouth on a soundless moan when your walls spasm around his fingers. Nothing you can do but let it happen. Like splintering down the middle. It hits you so hard that your belly cramps. 

Shame hits you so much harder. A half second after, like the sky splitting open and a voice thundering down, you know what you did. 

Your leg gives a feeble twitch when he pulls his fingers out, his palm soaked with your juices. You’re a limp mess of sour sweat and come in his lap, reeking of sex musk and a warm, spicy scent. 

You squeal and jolt back to awareness when he pushes a finger back in, sensitive to the point of pain. “Simon, I can’t—”

“Hold still; m’not done yet,” he cuts you off, irritation layered in his voice again. 

You don’t have to endure it for as long this time at least; he paws at your overworked sex and pants in your ear like a bear. Luxuriating in the soft, wet folds of your pussy. His touch isn’t clumsy, but it feels like he’s making up for lost time. It almost makes you wonder how long he’s wanting to get between your legs, but that thought evaporates when he reaches further down to press his fingers against the rim of your other hole, chuckling into your hair when you clench up. 

Then, after a few minutes, he pulls his hand out of your joggers and pats your belly with his wet fingers, leaving dewy strands of your juices on your skin before helping you back into the passenger seat. You don’t even have it in you to protest when he buckles you in again. You even accept it when he leans over to plant another wet kiss on your mouth, one with too much tongue and too much teeth, come drunk and aching for any kind of affection. 

“Sweet as pie, eh?” Simon rasps, eyes half-lidded and heady. Almost lovesick. “Couldn’t have asked for better.”

You stare at the side of his head as he drives the two of you back to the shop, eyes glued to his cauliflower ear. Rough son of a bitch. Brute strength hewn into his bones, covetous need in his veins.

And this is what your boyfriend thought was appropriate to bring home. 

He stops one more time to feed his cock down your throat before you make it home. Your tongue curls around the mushroomed head of dick when he drags your head down, the wiry hair at his crotch tickling your nose. The scent of him here is pungent, musky. Old lichenous rocks and rust like blood on your tongue. You’re so pliable that you hardly even gag when it touches the back of your throat. 

His come is still hot and tacky on your tongue when he pulls you into his lap to let you cry it out, wiping up your tears with a rough thumb. It’s a while before you manage to settle down again. 

Johnny’s still beaming behind the counter when you come in, Simon at your rear to keep you from running, his hand planted firmly at the small of your back. You can barely look your boyfriend in the eye. You’re afraid he’ll see it plain as day on your face, hair mused and lips swollen from sucking his lieutenant off in the van on the drive home. 

“The two of ye have a good time all by yourselves?” he asks, either deliberately ignoring the obvious or naively trusting. You don’t know which would be worse.

You can hear the dry grin in Simon’s voice. “We had a nice chat, didn’t we, doll?”

All you can muster is a weak smile and croak, “Yep. We did.”

You hold off a flinch when Simon’s hand slips down and grabs a handful of your ass.

[verdenz]

HI! so I just read the one where they are drunk and doesn't recognise their gf and itis so damn cute

Could you do pierre and yuki??

And perhaps a morning after? Where they finally see where they are and gf saying that was cute??

HE'S DRUNK AND DOESN'T RECOGNIZE YOU.

FEATURING:⠀⠀George Russell, Yuki Tsunoda, Oscar Piastri, Pierre Gasly.

OTHER PARTS:⠀⠀Part one for context. Part two.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: ⠀⠀I'll soon make a separate part/post for the morning after. <3 Also, sorry this isn't really good, I wrote it in the middle of the night and I wasn't awake enough, I guess.

୨୧⠀⠀⠀GEORGE RUSSELL

When you had to pick up your boyfriend from the party, you expected anything but for him to be so drunk that he couldn’t recognize you. Maybe it was just the bad street lighting, or just too much alcohol in his system, but it was still... well, surprising.

Even though he couldn’t recognize you, he was quite calm when his friend told him that you would drive him home.

On the way, though, he suddenly turned serious. "Listen, miss, I don’t think it’s right for a woman to drive me home. I have a girlfriend, and I don't think this is right." You can’t help but laugh, asking him what his girlfriend would prefer. “I should walk."

It was adorable how, even while excessively drunk, he still thought of you and your feelings. You looked at him through the rearview mirror, smiling. "Oh, actually, she’s the one who asked me to take you home. It’s dangerous to leave someone like you wandering around alone."

୨୧⠀⠀⠀YUKI TSUNODA

As you help him into the car, he suddenly stops and looks at you seriously. “You’re not my girlfriend, you’re a decoy! She’s testing me, isn’t she? Well, I won’t fall for it!”

You took a deep breath and smiled, trying not to get stressed, even though you were already irritated enough from being woken up in the middle of the night. "Ok, and what would your girlfriend do in this situation?"

“She’d probably smack me for being dumb enough to trust a stranger. So, no offense, but I’m keeping my distance,” Yuki said, smiling proudly at his reasoning. His friend swallowed hard, looking at you.

After several minutes of trying to convince him to get in the car before attracting more unwanted attention, he finally gave in and agreed.

As you start driving, he turns to you, dead serious. “Listen, I’ll go with you, but there’s no funny business, got it? I’m in love with my girlfriend, and nothing you do will change that.” You hummed, trying not to laugh, and he nodded, satisfied. “Good. I just needed to make that clear. You’re welcome to drop me off, but that’s it.”

୨୧⠀⠀⠀OSCAR PIASTRI

When you finished talking to the party’s security and returned to where you left your boyfriend, you found him talking to his friend, who was trying to get him into the car. “I can’t do it…” he says stubbornly. “My girlfriend will have my head.”

His friend sighs, “That’s your actual girlfriend, dude!”

He looked at you, squinting as if that would help somehow. He shakes his head sadly. “No way. She’s too... perfect to be at a place like this. And she said she’d stay home."

“And how do you plan on getting home, Oscar? Come on, I’ll give you a ride.” You tried to convince him, knowing there was no way to make him recognize who you were, at least not when he was in that state.

He stands up straight, smoothing his clothes. “Thank you for the offer, miss, but I can’t accept a ride from you. My girlfriend wouldn’t approve. She’s very particular about who I associate with.” He gives a slight bow, smiling politely. “I’ll just walk home, if you don’t mind.” He takes one step, wobbles, and nearly falls over.

“So... Do you want to wait until he falls asleep on the middle of the sidewalk, or do like a quick kidnapping?” His friend asked, watching your boyfriend, who had barely walked a meter and was already leaning against a wall, trying to keep his balance.

୨୧⠀⠀⠀PIERRE GASLY

As you approach him, his friend calls out, "Your ride's here, Pierre." You could see in the poor man's eyes that he was tired of dealing with your boyfriend for the night.

"No way! This is a trap. Some paparazzi paid you, right? You want a scandalous photo of me with another woman! My girlfriend will never believe this." He pointed at the two of you.

You glanced at his friend, who just sighed and walked over, dragging him into the car. Whoever was passing by would probably think it was some kind of kidnapping, but luckily, anyone passing was just as drunk as your boyfriend, if not more.

Pierre tried to struggle, despite not having much energy left for it. You held his hand before he could undo the seatbelt for the fourth time. "Stay quiet, or I'll tell your girlfriend that you drank more than you should have."

[sweetkpopmusings]

stray kids soulmate aus | k. seungmin <3

a/n: these days i am QUITE the seungmin simp & it shows :,-) i had a lot of fun writing a very classic kpop fic meet-cute with this one ! if you need me, i'll be watching seungmin compilations <333 pics not mine~

content: fluff, soulmate au | wc: 1.9k | warnings: none really! | pairing: soulmate!seungmin x gn!reader | requests: open

♡ chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin ♡

on your 18th birthday, you receive a stack of sticky notes on which you can write to your soulmate. there is one note for every day leading up to when you meet.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

you settled into your desk chair, eager to see what anecdote seungmin has chosen for you today. it was always a thrill to get a peek into his daily life, and it was especially entertaining when he removed context from the situation to make you laugh. over the years, he developed a knack for telling stories just the way you liked them. 

we went shopping today, in that area that always smells like ice cream cone batter. i bought a cool phone case. you better compliment me on it when we meet. i know it’s only ten days away, but i encourage you to put a reminder on your calendar, so you don’t forget to appreciate my taste in accessories. 

-yours, seungmin 

you scoffed. he was always extra sassy when he was excited about something. you tapped your pen against your desk, devising the perfect reply to seungmin’s daily update.

i promise i’ll tell you the phone case is cool, if and only if it actually is. we must be on the same wavelength because i went shopping today too (it didn’t smell like ice cream cone batter where i was though). i picked out new clothes for the day we meet, so you better compliment me on it as soon as you see me. should we make a joint calendar event since you’re quite forgetful?

-yours, y/n

not even 30 seconds passed when you saw seungmin’s handwriting appear near the bottom of the sticky note. you smiled, feeling his playful energy infect you.

like a wise person said, i’ll tell you the outfit is cool, if and only if it actually is. i’d love to make a joint calendar event, but we can’t share contact information yet, remember? i’ll have to trust you won’t forget the phone case…i guess that’s more important than remembering a basic rule about soulmates, so i’ll have faith in you :-) 

-yours, seungmin

with another roll of your eyes, you wrote your last message to seungmin for the night.

you test my patience, kim seungmin. get some rest now. i know you’re working hard on your comeback, so i’ll be rooting for you! 

-yours, y/n

you smiled at the tiny heart seungmin drew in the bottom corner of the page before you peeled the sticky note off the stack. electricity ran through you every time you noticed how much it shrank. soon, very soon, you would be teased by seungmin in person. you hoped that you’d deliver the perfect eye roll in response to his snarky comments, as a way to show him you truly loved him.

staring at the note, seungmin laughed at his desk, right when felix walked by.

“what’d y/n say?”

“none of your business.”

despite the nature of the retort, seungmin’s tone was lighthearted. felix laughed and left seungmin alone to place the completed sticky note in his not-so-secret box, where he kept every word you’ve ever exchanged safe from the rest of the world.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

hi soulmate~ let’s see if our tastes match. tell me your ideal meet-cute.

-yours, seungmin

you felt a blush on your skin at seungmin’s cute tone. you imagined he was feeling particularly sweet as your meeting was only three days away. you took your time mentally ranking the best meet-cutes you’d witnessed in books, movies, tv, and real life.

hi seungmin~ there are a lot of good ones, but i have to stick with the classic: locking eyes across a crowded room. what’s yours?

-yours, y/n

you stared at the note, eager to see whether seungmin had a romantic side after all. you laughed in disbelief when you read his answer.

wow, no “hi soulmate~”? rude :-( my favorite trope is spilling coffee on someone. i’d enjoy that as long as i’m not the one getting spilled on. let’s hope your outfit isn’t too cool!

-yours, seungmin

you imagined seungmin was laughing at his own joke, which balanced out his vague threat to spill coffee on you.

you’re such a menace :-( i’m about to revoke “soulmate” from your nicknames, as a matter of principle. 

-yours, y/n

seungmin, despite himself, blushed at the thought of you having different nicknames picked out for him. his heart fluttered, feeling extra sweet because of you.

i’m YOUR menace. see you soon! i’ll be the handsome man holding two coffees <3

-yours, seungmin 

you sighed, knowing there was a real chance he’d carry two coffees around that whole day. if there was one thing about seungmin, he’d commit to the bit. 

i’ll run away from you, and i hope you spill one of the coffees on yourself while you chase me. at least we’ll be matching <3

-yours, y/n

from miles away, you and seungmin laughed at the same time. similarly, you both played out different meet-cute scenarios for the rest of the night. seungmin would never admit this to you, but he’d love to see the excited look on your face if your chosen meet-cute was what fate had in store.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

though you returned home later than usual, you were still surprised to see the sticky note halfway filled up by the time you sat at your desk. 

my schedules start before sunrise tomorrow, so i have to go to bed early, like a grandpa. chan says this is a good time to go to bed…what else would we expect though? anyways, i’m sorry i won’t get to write back tonight. tell me about your day! i’ll read it as soon as i wake up. i promise. :-)

sleep well, and i’ll see you tomorrow~

-yours, seungmin

your heart sank a little at the fact you wouldn’t be able to interact directly with seungmin the night before the long-awaited day. however, the butterflies in your stomach reminded you that there was plenty to be excited about.

hi soulmate~ i’m jealous you’re sleeping so early. i was out late because i had to get everything ready before attending the live show recording tomorrow (i still can’t believe i won that ticket lottery!). i’m worried i won’t be able to sleep well from the excitement. 

don’t forget about my outfit! just look for the best-dressed person and you’ll find me :-)

i’ll be sending you the strength to get through your schedules! i can’t wait to see you tomorrow~

-yours, y/n

you smiled to yourself, feeling in your heart that seungmin would start his day off happy, as you finally gave him the greeting he’d been waiting for.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ 

from the second he read your note, seungmin couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. everyone noticed the way he beamed, so it didn’t take long for them to put together that he’d be meeting you today. his members were painfully obvious about trying to catch a glimpse of you wherever they went. seungmin was in such a good mood that he didn’t even tease them that much. 

realizing that the live show recording was almost definitely where you’d meet, seungmin noticed that his palms were sweatier than normal. he shook them out, taking deep breaths to calm his heart rate. this may not have been the first stage for their new song, but it was the first stage you’d be at, so the stakes were high. 

despite the nerves from the night before, you were happily enjoying yourself at the show. of course, every performance was incredible, and the crowd was energetic. by the time there was only one act left, you felt your body start to grow tired. an adrenaline rush hit you full force, however, when you saw the name “stray kids” light up the stage.

jaw dropped, you were silent while the rest of the crowd screamed. your eyes raced to find seungmin. he was on the opposite end of the stage, giving you at least a chance at composing yourself before he saw your face. the music started, and you joined the crowd’s cheers. seungmin’s stage presence and vocals in person were breathtaking, and you felt a swell of pride knowing that your soulmate was so talented.

as though he could sense you were thinking of him, seungmin turned his head to the area where you stood. the second you locked eyes, seungmin grinned like an excited puppy. he waved to you, feeling giddy enough to make a heart with his hands. you matched his energy, smiling widely and bouncing from the magic of it all. there he was, just across the room, saying “hi” to you and only you.

per the instructions seungmin mouthed from the stage, you waited in your seat for a bit until a staff member brought you backstage. despite the recording being done, the halls were crowded with bustling employees and idols alike. all of the noise was drowned out by someone calling your name.

“hey y/n! i like your outfit!”

you turned around, seeing seungmin waving again. he beamed, and you rushed over to him. 

“you remembered!”

seungmin laughed at your excitement, “i did forget my coffee though. it looks like your meet-cute won in the end.”

his eyes twinkled as he looked at you. rather than feeling nervous, you two chattered endlessly. you giggled at the way seungmin blushed when you complimented his performance. in turn, seungmin giggled at the way you blushed when he called you pretty. being able to have a conversation that exceeded the character limit of a sticky note left both of you with the zoomies, much to the entertainment of seungmin’s eavesdropping members. 

“seungmin!” hyunjin yelled from a suspiciously nearby spot, “we have to leave soon!” hyunjin waved at you, “hi y/n!”

you waved back, and seungmin told you to ignore hyunjin, which made you laugh. as you exchanged contact information, you kept your promise and examined seungmin’s phone case.

“i like your phone case, seungmin! it matches your style perfectly,” you pointed at the object in his hand.

“thank you!” seungmin grinned for the umpteenth time that day, proudly holding the phone out for you to see, “this is the best part, if you ask me.”

you were surprised to see a sticky note in the back of his phone case. you leaned closer to examine it, and you felt a wave of fondness wash over you. in his hand, seungmin held one of your earliest sticky notes. on it, you had drawn a picture of what you thought seungmin looked like, purely based on how he wrote. you were way off, which you learned once you saw a picture of him online. it did accurately capture seungmin’s personality, though, so seungmin was quite proud of your artistry. 

“it’s a one-of-a-kind drawing, so i wanted to show it off.”

seungmin’s tone was teasing, but you could feel the compliment, “you’re so sweet, seungmin! maybe i should have a matching one?”

he nodded, “i better see the portrait i drew of you in your phone case next time i see you.”

you laughed, “understood! i feel chan staring at us, so you should get going. call me when you get home?”

“of course!” seungmin smiled, “promise me one more thing?”

“hmm,” you feigned deep thought, “it depends on what it is.”

“next time you come to watch us perform, sit by my side of the stage.”

“only if i can see lee know too.”

seungmin glared at you momentarily, breaking into a laugh because he was so endeared by the pout you gave in response. after you said your goodbyes, you watched seungmin bound down the hall to meet his members. before he went around the corner, he turned to wave to you again, mouthing goodbye, soulmate!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[runninriot]

written for @steddie-week day 6

Love Drunk

prompt: dizzy, drunken confessions | wc: 2.5k | rated: T | cw: alcohol | tags: platonic stobin, steve has a crush on eddie, pining, jealousy, love confessions, friends to lovers | also on ao3

  "Steeeve, I really don’t think this is a good idea.“ Robin grabs him by the sleeve of his shirt to hold him back.

   "Oh, but it is a great idea, actually! The best idea I ever had!“

Steve has to concentrate hard not to trip over his tongue, to pronounce each word clearly.

He’s drunk. Like, really drunk. Drunk as in - the floor’s moving like he’s standing on a boat rocking on the shore and the world around him is turning too fast.

He knows he’s had too much but that doesn’t keep him from downing another shot.

Steve needs it, needs the courage. Because he has a plan.

   "You’re gonna regret it, Steve. And then I’ll have to listen to you whine and complain and you’re gonna blame me for not holding you back! I can’t let you do this.“

    My sweet Robin.

He’ll thank her later for this. For trying to talk some sense into him. She’s his best friend in the world. And usually, he knows he’s always better off listening to her advice. Because Robin is smart as hell. He’s lucky to have her. She loves him, always has his best interest at heart.

Steve turns around to look at her, can’t fight the urge to boop her on the nose.

   “You’re cute,” he says completely out of context and while he can see the confusion on her blurry face, she still laughs at the notion.

   “Well, you’re not,” she says and Steve pouts.

   “Don’t you love me anymooore?”

    God, Steve sounds like a kid even to his own ears. How pathetic.

He’s always been an emotional drunk.

That’s probably why, when he caught sight of Eddie laughing at something this- this random guy standing too close to him must’ve said, Steve suddenly felt like someone had pulled the rug right from under his feet.

   “You know I do. That’s why I’m telling you not to do anything stupid.” Robin says sternly, seemingly unimpressed by the emotional turmoil raging in his mind.

The thing is, technically, he knows she’s right. Sober Steve would listen to Robin without hesitation. Would let her take him home and comfort him while he pours his heart out to her.

But Drunk Steve?

Drunk Steve is as bold as he is stupid.

Drunk Steve has a mind of his own, steered by a heart that is too loud for any sensible thoughts to come through.

He can’t stop himself from staring, from watching Eddie through the open kitchen door that leads to the other room, where the music is loud and everyone’s having a great time.

Everyone, including Eddie and random guy, who’s touching Eddie’s arm, smiling and batting his lashes at him. He’s flirting with Eddie, undoubtedly. And Eddie clearly doesn’t mind, going by the way he keeps moving closer to the other guy, holding his gaze, reciprocating his touch.

That’s just-

Not okay.

He needs to do something.

Like, right now.

   “’m jus’ gonna talk to him,” Steve announces to Robin without looking at her.

She sighs, and he knows Robin has accepted her defeat when she finally lets go of his arm.

   “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

He barely catches her last words before making his way over to where Eddie and Rando are standing, careful not to stumble because the floor is uneven. Or maybe there’s something wrong with his feet? Who knows. Doesn’t matter, he’s on a mission.

Slowly and on wobbly legs, he makes his way through the spinning party crowd until he finally reaches his destination.

As if he can sense his presence, Eddie turns around immediately, while the guy next to him is throwing metaphorical daggers at Steve for interrupting their conversation.

   “Steve? Are you okay?” Eddie sounds concerned for some reason but Steve can’t find it in him to question it, not when Eddie holds out a hand and touches his shoulder.

Not when the hand on his arm feels so nice. And keeps him steady. Keeps his body from swaying.

    Why is the floor moving so much?

   “Do you need to sit down?”

Before Steve can wonder why Eddie would ask him that, he’s losing his balance, feels his knees give out and then all of a sudden, everything goes dark.

   “There you are.”

Steve blinks his eyes open, tries to focus his vision on the figure looming above him.

There’s something cold and damp on his forehead and a warm hand caressing his cheek.

   “Wha’ happened?” Steve’s voice is hoarse and his mouth is dry and there’s a nasty aftertaste of tequila on his tongue.

    Ugh.

Steve tries to push himself up from where he’s lying on... a bed? But he fails, feels dizzy, and slumps right back down.

   “Careful, Stevie. Don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

It is only now Steve realises who is talking to him. Who is sitting beside him at the edge of the bed with a hand pressed to the washcloth on his forehead to keep it in place.

   “Eddie?”

    Oh fuck.

Robin will never let him live that down.

   “The one and only,” Eddie smiles and although Steve feels like absolute shit, he can’t help but return the gesture.

   “Where are we?”

The room is only dimly lit by a bedside lamp, with the door closed and the curtains pulled shut. Steve can hear the music coming from the party still going on downstairs.

   “Linda allowed me to take you to her room after that little stunt you pulled.”

Eddie must sense his confusion because before Steve can ask what he means, he continues.

   “You blacked out. Kinda fell right into my arms,” he chuckles. “I caught you before you went down and brought you up here. I asked Jeremy to find Robin and tell her what happened but I guess he... was a bit mad at me for leaving.”

    Oh god.

Steve remembers now.

Jeremy must be the guy Eddie was talking to.

He can’t blame him for being pissed, though he’s probably not mad at Eddie but rather at Steve for interrupting their little- whatever it was.

   “Sorry for ruining your date,” Steve says quietly, shame creeping up inside.

It’s what he wanted, isn’t it? That was his plan.

Not to faint! But to disrupt whatever flirting game random guy, Jeremy, thought he had going on. But now that he’s slowly coming to his senses, he can’t help but to feel guilty for it.

   “Ah, it’s fine. He’ll live.”

Eddie grins, doesn’t sound mad at all which is good but the fact that he didn’t deny that it was, in fact, a date, makes Steve’s stomach turn into knots.

Because while he’s definitely still drunk, Sober Steve is slowly trying to force his way into his conscious, crawling through the fog still clinging to his mind. And with that comes the realisation of how stupid his plan was.

If he hadn’t blacked out, he would’ve told Eddie that he-

    Godfuckingdamn, this would’ve ended in a catastrophe.

Eddie doesn’t like Steve like that. They’re friends, nothing more.

And Steve would’ve ruined it all.

He knows he can’t keep his tongue in check when it’s loose from alcohol and still, consciously made the decision to go over the limit anyway.

How could he be so stupid? So recklessly putting their friendship on the line for- what? A rejection?

Steve should’ve listened to Robin. She tried to warn him, tried to save him from embarrassing himself but of course, he didn’t listen.

Now Eddie is sitting here next to him in depressing silence instead of being with-

   “You should go looking for him.”

   “For who?”

   “Jeremy? I’m fine now. Thanks for looking after me.”

Eddie’s hand slips away from Steve’s forehead and there’s a change in his expression that Steve doesn’t know how to read. He looks... disappointed? Kind of hurt in a way, and Steve doesn’t know why.

   “I’ll go looking for Robin and ask her to take me home. Wouldn’t want to waste any more of your precious time than I already have.”

The words feel like acid on his tongue because they’re lies. He’d want nothing more than to stay here with Eddie a little while longer. Hell, he’d spend the whole night alone with Eddie if he could.

But he can’t because it wouldn’t be fair to keep Eddie to himself when he could be out there having a good time.

Doesn’t matter that it hurts like a bitch to imagine Eddie going home with that guy at the end of the night.

To imagine someone else’s hands on his body, someone else’s lips on his mouth.

To imagine someone else getting to have all these things Steve would die for.

   “You’re not wasting my time, Steve. Never. I love spending time with you.”

Eddie smiles again, nervously rubbing the back of his neck and it’s way too much for Steve’s weak little heart to handle.

   “You can’t say things like that, Eds.” Steve says because he needs Eddie to stop making his heart flutter.

   “Why not?”

   “Because I might take advantage of it.”

    What the fuck? Shut your mouth before you say something even more stupid.

Steve finally manages to sit up, head still feeling heavy but at least the wooziness is gone.

With his new seating position, Eddie is suddenly so much closer than before.

They’re sitting next to each other, arms and legs touching, and Steve has to force himself not to lean into the warmth radiating off Eddie’s body.

   “I wouldn’t mind.” Eddie says while he fumbles with his rings, eyes focused on his own hands.

It’s like he purposely avoids looking at Steve.

   “Oh, you would,” Steve insists. “Because I’d want too much.”

Eddie looks back up, tilts his head to the side.

   “What do you mean?”

Steve feels sick.

Not from the booze but from the violent fluttering sensation in his gut – he’s worried he’ll throw up butterflies if he opens his mouth.

   “I-“

He feels dizzy again, this time for reasons he’s not willing to confess.

Eddie’s gaze is piercing. It’s like he is trying to look right through him, searching for the truth that’s locked away in Steve’s heart. Barely held back from pouring out, thrashing behind bars that slowly crack and crumble as Steve loses himself in Eddie’s eyes.

His emotions swim in a sea of tequila and beer. He feels light-headed and the room is spinning again but this time, it’s because Steve feels drunk on Eddie.

   “I have a big, fat crush on you.”

It’s out. Just like that. And nothing bad happens. The world still revolves around the sun, people downstairs are still having fun, and Eddie doesn’t tell him to fuck off.

Instead, Eddie takes his face in both hands and looks him deep in the eyes.

   “Is this drunk you talking? Or do you mean it?”

Steve allows himself to lean into the warmth of Eddie’s palm, and smiles.

   “Both? I mean it. But I wouldn’t have told you if I hadn’t drowned my last functioning brain cells in Tequila,” Steve says honestly and his heart makes a funny thing when Eddie snorts at his words.

   “You’re lucky you’re cute, Stevie. I can’t believe Robin let you off the leash like that.”

   “Hey!” Steve protests with a light push to Eddie’s chest, absently lets his hand linger where he can feel Eddie’s heart beat hard and fast beneath his palm.

   “Just for your information, she did tell me it was a bad idea. But I saw you with that guy and-“

    Oops.

That’s not what he wanted to say.

   “Oooh, so you got drunk because you were jealous, huh?” Eddie wags his brows and it looks so dorky, Steve can’t help but laugh.

   “No! Okay maybe. But-“

Steve only now realises that Eddie’s hands are still cupping his face. That Eddie hasn’t pulled away; he’s still touching him, still so close there’s barely any room between them. This is too close. And although it feels good, Steve knows it isn’t right.

   “Listen, Eddie. I know that this isn’t mutual. And I guess- well, I hope this doesn’t make it awkward between us? I like you, Eddie. A lot. And I- I hope we can still be friends, des-“

  “Woah, hold on, Stevie!”

Suddenly, Eddie’s expression turns serious and Steve feels like his heart stops as he holds his breath, waiting for whatever comes next.

   “Before you jump to conclusions, I gotta confess something, too. I might also have a big, fat, stupid crush on you.”

Eddie’s hands move to the back of Steve’s neck, fingers curling into his hair in this kind of gentle but demanding way that makes Steve shiver.

   “I just didn’t think I’d have a chance.“

He moves closer, so close their noses are touching. Steve’s heart does that thing again, flips and kicks and he can feel Eddie’s do the same.

It makes him feel bold.

   “Can I kiss you?”

Steve wouldn’t even be mad if Eddie said no. He probably smells like a distillery and he looks like shit and his mouth is so dry because-

    God, why did I drink so much?

   “Only if I can kiss you, too.”

Eddie doesn’t wait for a response, just closes the remaining distance between their lips, tentatively and almost shy. But the way he digs his fingers deeper into Steve’s hair and pulls shows a desperation that matches Steve’s own.

Steve, who clings to Eddie with both arms wrapped tight around him, kissing him, touching him, losing himself in the moment.

He’s breathless when they part.

   “You good?” Eddie asks, eyes searching for any sign of discomfort in Steve’s.

   “Perfect,” Steve lies, doesn’t want Eddie to stop on his behalf, wants to keep kissing him.

   “You’re a bad liar, Stevie. You look tired.”

Eddie’s right. Steve should go home, drink a gallon of water and go to sleep, let the buzz wear off and-

   “Will this still be real tomorrow?”

    Please, let it be real.

Eddie presses another kiss to his lips before he nods.

   “I’m yours if you want me.”

   “Want you.”

   “Come on, then. Let’s get you home.”

   “Are you coming home with me?” Steve asks, sounding a little more hopeful that he’d want to admit.

   “Just for tonight, let’s pretend I’m a gentleman, okay? I don’t want Robin to kill me before I have the chance to tell her.”

   “Tell her what?”

   “That I’m in love with her best friend.”

Steve will have the worst hangover tomorrow, he’s sure.

And Robin will have a lot to say about all of it.

But to hear Eddie say those words makes it all worth it.

   “What about Jeremy?” Steve’s being a teasing little shit now, he knows he is, can’t help himself.

   “I think his name was actually Jeffrey, or Jackson? I don’t really know him. He just wanted to talk to me about my band, saw us play a few weeks back.” Eddie grins, has this knowing look in his eyes that sends a hot rush to Steve’s cheeks.

   “Oh you bastard!” Steve huffs, feels stupid for falling for something like that. “I can't believe you let me think you two had something going on. That’s so mean!”

They both laugh.

   “Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Eddie smirks and Steve can’t not kiss him.

   “I hate you,” Steve says through a smile and Eddie answers with his own.

   “I know, I love you, too.”

[hazbinwhoree]

Adam and Lute with a very powerful overlord reader who is doing multiple jobs at once and is obviously tired and overworked, and is just like, "I'm done, I'm too tired to deal with your bullshit." She kinda has the same personality as Aizawa from mha (Reader may or may not have an addiction to coffee, tea, and energy drinks. I can see them meeting when Charlie drags her to her meeting with adam and Lute. Charlie:(y/n)? When was the last time you slept? (Y/N): What the fuck is sleep? *drinks 10 gallons of coffee in one sitting*)

An Angel & An Overlord

A/N: I had fun writing this and hope it’s what you wanted! I don’t know who Aizawa is so I did my best based on context clues. Disclaimer, there will not be a part 2, I’m drowning in requests.

Adam was already bored of this meeting with Lucifer and Lilith’s daughter. She and her associates were pleading their case to let sinners go to Heaven (ha!) while he chowed down on some ribs. Then the door swung open.

A demon came stumbling in, an energy drink in each hand, looking disheveled and tired. But fuck, she was hot.

“(Name)!” Charlie exclaimed. “Thank you for coming! I know you’re busy.” Adam and (Name) had made prolonged eye contact. “What? Oh, yeah, no problem, Char.” She tore her eyes away, looking at the ribs he was eating. “Fuck those look good. Now I’m hungry.”

“And who’s this hottie?” Adam smirked, slumping back in his seat. The demon rolled her eyes, slamming one of her drinks on the table. “She said my name already, asshole. And put some respect on it, I’m highly ranked down here.”

“Whatever you say, tits.”

She hissed at him. Adam felt a small thrill at the action.

“Eat shit.”

“Um, (Name), maybe don’t fight with Adam, we need him to approve the plan-” “I’m not going to approve the plan,” Adam laughed. “Sinners? In Heaven? As if.”

(Name) sighed, patting Charlie’s back. “Looks like my services are pointless.” She made to leave, but Adam stopped her. “Well wait, what was your role in this little presentation?” He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want her leaving yet. “I have statistics from asking sinners if they would take the Hazbin Hotel seriously if Heaven approved it.”

Adam pretended to think on that. “Interesting, but Heaven will never approve.”

She flipped him off.

“Right back at you, bitch.”

Despite the annoyed face he put on, Adam liked this demon much more than the sunshine and rainbows princess. She spoke his language.

(Name) pounded back the energy drink she was still holding while the room watched on, Charlie and Vaggie looking vaguely concerned. “(Name), did you sleep last night?” “Who needs sleep?” The overlord crushed the drink can. “Aight, I’m out.” She saluted the room and left.

(Name) woke up the next morning to an invitation outside her door. To her shock, it was from Adam. He requested they meet, listing coordinates and a time for when he would open a portal to Heaven. Curious, (Name) decided to go.

At the time allotted, she stood at the spot, nursing a coffee. A portal opened in front of her, and apprehensively, (Name) stepped through it. “You actually came.” Adam looked surprised to see her. “Curiosity killed the cat,” (Name) replied. Adam smirked. “Well welcome to Heaven, hottie.”

They were stood outside what looked like an apartment building. Adam turned to enter it. “Coming, sugar tits?” “Don’t call me that.” Still, she followed him. They rode an elevator up to the very top of the building, and the doors opened to reveal a penthouse.

“Is this where you live?” (Name) asked, stepping out and beginning to look around. “Yeah.”

Adam was unusually quiet, watching (Name) anxiously. “I made more ribs,” he spoke up. “If you want some.” He sounded unsure of himself. (Name) almost found it endearing. “Sure.” She followed Adam into the kitchen and sat down at the table, and Adam placed a plate of ribs in front of her.

(Name) wanted to ask what this was about, but she had forgotten to eat yesterday, and hadn’t had time to eat today, so she was absolutely ravenous. She dug into the ribs with vigor, ignoring Adam’s eyes on her. He took a seat across from her at the table, picking at his own plate of ribs.

“Damn, girlie, you can really put it away. One would think you’re starving. When’s the last time you ate?” “Mm, don’t remember,” (Name) answered through a full mouth. “You really don’t give a shit about yourself.” (Name) frowned. “I do, I’m just… I’m so busy. Overlord duties and shit, y’know?”

“I don’t, actually,” Adam replied as (Name) polished off the last of the ribs. He took two off his plate and put them on hers. “Tell me about it.”

(Name) realized, suddenly, that this felt a lot like a date. But these ribs were really good and Adam was being strangely sweet (he wasn’t bad looking either), so (Name) didn’t say anything about it.

“Well the other overlords have been holding a lot more meetings recently because Carmilla and Velvette are fighting, not that those names mean anything to you.” “What are they fighting about?” “I can’t disclose that.” To her surprise, Adam didn’t push. She continued.

“On top of that, I’ve got all these new contracts, I definitely took on too many deals recently, but the more souls I own, the more powerful I am.”

“I can respect that. I guess Lute isn’t the only Danger Tits I know.”

(Name) rolled her eyes. “Stop talking about tits.” “Aw, but yours are so nice, babe.” (Name) found herself actually flustered by the comment, but didn’t let it show on her face.

Her tail swished, giving away the fact she was flustered, but luckily Adam didn’t know her well enough yet to realize her tell. (Name) noticed vaguely that she’d thought yet.

Like she was going to let Adam get to know her better. Although, she supposed she already was.

They talked for a while longer, discussing (Name)’s life in Hell as an overlord, and occasionally things about Adam. But she noted he let her do most of the talking. When the conversation came to a natural conclusion, (Name) realized she’d been there for almost two hours.

“Fuck, I have to go,” she said, and Adam stood. Wordlessly, he made a portal in the middle of his living room. Before (Name) stepped through it, he spoke. “Maybe we can do this again?”

(Name) smiled to herself.

“Yeah. Maybe we can.”

[salsakiyoomi]

Hiii, I have a request! Ok so hear me out, what if Sukuna finds another woman and replace reader. make it as angsty as possible with a happy ending pretty please with a cherry on top🥹

a/n : absolutely!! you can read this for more context. cw : extremely suggestive towards the end, vulgar language

you couldn’t believe your eyes.

the sight in front of you was one for sore eyes, and it made your heart pang in your chest — sukuna with his arm wrapped around a pretty blonde, a very pretty blonde in fact, with the bluest eyes you had seen and pretty cherry red plump lips.

it’s not the first time you had seen him around with her. It’s been two weeks since he had seen you coming out of that guy’s dorm room covered in hickeys and whatnot, and it’s been two weeks since he had stopped talking to you and started hanging out with that girl.

you weren’t sure why your heart hurt so much and why your shoulders were heavy as you watched him kiss her temple and tug her closer — he never did that to you, in public at least, he insisted that since the two of you weren’t official there was no need for pda, nobody even knew that you had any connections to sukuna, most of the time he’d ignore you in public, but when night came? it was like you were the only girl for him.

so why was he holding her like that? like she was the only girl for him — were they dating? is he in love with her? no, impossible.

sukuna didn’t do love, that's what he always told you.

the only thing left is that he was doing this to spite you — replace you with someone else, and right in front of your eyes too, he was making it painfully obvious.

your heart sinks in your chest as his gaze catches your and there is the tell tale of burning in your eyes as tears begin to well up — why were you crying? for a man like him? he didn’t deserve it.

for a moment, you think you see a flash of pity on his face, but the blonde is up in his lap leaning in for a kiss and — 

you turn away before you could see it.

hot tears stream down your face and you wonder if this is it, if that’s how everything ends — you knew you were getting into a mess once you involved yourself with the infamous drummer, that he wasn’t necessarily a good guy.

but still.

you spend the rest of the day in your dorm room, crying your eyes out for the most of it and eating ice cream — classic, but you didn’t have anything else to do, nothing to take your mind off of things.

it was around eleven pm when you considered going to that dude’s dorm, the one that you slept with two weeks ago — you really needed something to get your mind off of things.

you decide you will, and when you get up to go open the door to get out, lo and behold, it’s nobody but sukuna, and it looks like he was about to knock on your door.

your eyes widen and instantly there is a scowl on your face, “fuck off.” you grit out.

his face is of indifference, staring down at you intimidatingly you could almost shrink down under his gaze — you always do.

“we need to talk,” he says and you scoff, “the fuck we don’t — hey! get your hand off of me —” he’s gripping your arm and leading you back inside the dorm room, maybe manhandling you a little bit, he shuts the door behind him and leans on it, staring you down.

“what do you want?” you ask, and there is a slight wobble in your voice and once more, the burning in your eyes — you didn’t want to cry in front of him.

he doesn’t respond at first, and a moment passes of him just staring at you and you avoiding his gaze, before he is shifting himself off of the door and taking a step closer to you, his hands at your waist.

you try to slap his hands away but his grip is firm, “oh, come on, don’t you have the pretty blonde whore to fuck?” you say bitterly and he cringes.

“she’s nothing to me,” he says and you roll your eyes, “then why was she all over you?”

god, it hurt so much, to have seen him like that with her, and you could only wish to be her in that moment.

he stays silent for a moment and you stare up at him, letting out a noise that was close to a whimper, “you hurt me, ryomen.” you say meekly.

you catch the slight twitch of his lips into a pout, but it’s quickly gone, “you fucked me up, too.” he says, “sleeping with that fuck boy.”

you scoff — does this even make any sense anymore? the two of you agreed it was nothing exclusive so why the hell were you so attached to each other?

“i was drunk that night,” you murmur, and you can’t believe you actually feel bad for sleeping with that guy, “and stupid…”

sukuna huffs, his hands moving up your body and you stare up at him with innocent eyes and god, he can’t resist you like that.

ho he presses his lips to yours in a firm kiss, and pulls you closer to him, letting his hands wander all over your body, “i don’t even like that blonde whore you’re talking about,” he murmurs against your lips before going back to kissing you and your body is on fire.

his hands wander up your shirt and his touch is like electricity to your skin — god, you missed his touch so bad, it’s been almost a month and half since the two of you had done anything.

you moan softly and you feel him smirk against your lips, “that desperate, huh?” he hums and your stomach twists in knots.

he takes your shirt off, leaving you in nothing but your bra and shorts, his hands wander up all the way to your breasts as he trails his kisses from your lips to your jaw and neck.

you shiver under the cold tips of his fingers, your lungs are constricting and there are butterflies in your stomach, and he can tell, he can absolutely tell the way you inevitably melt under his touch.

“bet that fuckboy couldn’t make you feel as good as this,” he murmurs against your skin, before sucking harshly — he’s determined to leave his marks on you tonight.

“ryomen,” you moan softly and oh how the way his name falls from your lips make him so heated, especially when you let out a pretty moan like that.

he fiddles with the clips of your bra as he continues to trail kisses down to your collarbone, and you’re leaning into him, melting under his touch and you forget anything bad he has ever done to you, you don’t care to remember, not when it feels as good as this.

and sukuna is addicted to you too, you were like a drug for him, no matter how much he tried to pull away, he always found his way back to you — he was addicted to the way his name rolls off of your tongue when you were breathless and under him, he was addicted to how soft your skin was compared to his calloused hands, how pretty you sound when he was deep inside and he was addicted to how you completely crumble under his touch.

he unclips your bra and the clothing falls to the floor and he’s smirking against your skin as he can practically hear your heart thumping in your chest.

“let’s go to the bedroom, yeah?”