#going insane in my small ass fandoms

[just-call-mefr1es]

there’s both an upside and a downside to being in small fandoms

the upside is that if your fandom is small enough, there won’t be any hateful or weird shift (like proships and whatever), and it feels like a sweet, cute little community, with some wacky shit every now and then, but it’s a fandom? What’d you expect?

The downside is that sometimes there’s barely anyone in the fandom and now you’re alone with these loveable characters that no one in your friend group knows of.

Yes, I’m speaking from experience.

[yellowharrington]

save a horse (ride a cowboy!) -- joel miller x reader

pairing + fandom: joel miller x reader, the last of us (hbo)

word count: 3.9k

warnings/notes: smut and porn!!! minors DNI, 18+!!! no outbreak!au. she/her pronouns used, afab!reader (with mentions of body parts), no use of y/n. age gap (joel is at least 10 years older). drinking (both reader and joel), unprotected PIV, oral (f receiving), spanking, dirty talk, car sex. if i missed anything lmk!

a/n: recommended listening: save a horse (ride a cowboy) by big & rich. honourable mention to austin by dasha bc it's been on repeat. please take the time to leave comments/reblog if you liked it <3 thank u for reading!! divider by @cafekitsune

summary: meeting an older man at the bar and spontaneously fucking him in his truck was not on your list of things to do for your first summer back in austin, but what can you do?

You hate going dancing.

Sweaty clubs with bodies brushing up against one another, sticky with the hot summer heat, confined to the walls of a crowded bar and beer sticking to the bottom of your shoes. Not the way you plan to spend your first Saturday night back in Austin for the summer, but Maddy is so convincing, your hand clasped around yours, a pleading look in her eyes. 

“I promise. It’s so fun. We’ll invite Kaylee and Erin and it’ll be a whole thing.”

You rolled your eyes at her, slipping your hand out from between hers. “Fine. One drink, one dance.”

She squealed with excitement and clapped her hands together, stepping up from the small cafe table. “We can pregame at mine. Wear that black top you have.”

You nod, thinking of the top in question. A corseted black thing that didn’t leave much to the imagination, breasts spilling out of the stop beneath the tight stitching. You think it probably got shoved to the back of your closet somewhere.

~

Joel hates going dancing.

Well, he doesn’t hate dancing. He just isn’t good at it, and hasn’t gone since his very early twenties. And he certainly would not be interested in spending the evening with Tommy at a country bar in downtown Austin, surrounded by women who would grimace at a pair of old men taking up a table.

But Tommy is convincing, hands gesturing around him annoyingly, until Joel gives in. “Fine. One drink. Then I’m leavin’.”

“This city is swarming with beautiful women,” Tommy says, knocking back another sip of his hot coffee. “And you’re too holed up inside to meet any of ‘em.”

“I like my own company,” Joel starts, bringing his own coffee mug to the sink. “Some of us are happy by ourselves.”

Tommy snorts, a hand clapping onto Joel’s shoulder. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, big shot. We’ll see when there’s a bunch of hotties in front of ya, then you can tell me that you like being alone.”

Joel gags at his use of the word ‘hotties’, and pulls his work boots on. “I can still change my mind, ya know.”

~ 

Night falls over the suburbs of Austin, taking the sunshine but leaving the humid, sweet heat in the air. You’re surrounded by your friends at Maddy’s apartment, a light pink gloss swiping across your lips. You’ve managed to dig out the top she had mentioned earlier, tied in a tight bow at the back. Your dark jeans hit just below it, letting slivers of smooth skin show, which somehow seemed sluttier than the fact your boobs were practically falling out of the top. Your jeans outlined the plump curve of your ass, a pair of dark cowboy boots adorning your calves. The last time you’d dressed like this was a long time ago, so it felt a little foreign, but not uncomfortable.

The cab ride to the bar is eventful, with 4 girls singing along to the songs on the radio at the top of your lungs. You were already a drink or two deep, having done some brightly coloured shot at Maddy’s house, taking it without thinking. You still weren’t planning on doing anything insane tonight, and bar drinks were expensive, so this was probably the best it was going to get for you.

The car pulls up to the bar and waits for you all to pour out, flashing your IDs to the bouncer, sliding inside past the thrums of people already inside. The bar was almost full, dance floor packed, drinks being poured by every bartender. Neon signs and amber lamps served as the only lighting for the establishment, already making things feel fuzzy around the edges for you.

Joel sits at a rickety wooden table in the corner of the bar with Tommy, scratching the wet label off of his beer bottle. He had fished out a plaid t-shirt from his closet, his usual jeans taught across his thighs and a pair of nicer boots than his work ones on his feet. His hair was pushed back, curls still lapping at the nape of his neck and curves of his ear. He was noticeably older than the other patrons of the bar, painfully aware of that fact, he felt rather uncomfortable. Tommy didn’t seem to mind, feet tapping at the beer-washed hardwood. “Stop lookin’ so mad,” he remarks, close to Joel’s ear. “You’ll scare ‘em all away.”

There are groups of people pouring in from outside, bachelorette parties and frat boys, making Joel feel unbelievably out of place. It was hard to lighten up when he wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing here.

The doors open once more, your group of friends pushing their way through the sea of people, hand in hand. Joel notices, one girl in a cowboy hat, one in denim jean cutoffs, one with a big belt buckle that glints pink against the light. 

Then he notices you.

His face softens as you follow behind your friends, as they push to the front of the line for a drink. He’s got 10 years on you, easy, but that doesn’t stop his cock twitching against the zipper of his suddenly too-tight jeans.

Soft curves, a top that fits you just right, and jeans that accentuate the dips and lines of your body. You’ve got warm energy, a bright smile adorning your glossed lips. 

You barely even notice him, until you turn around and make eye contact, your shining eyes meeting his. He’s too handsome for his own good, biceps and shoulders pressed tight against the sleeves of his shirt. He’s got his thighs spread across the chair he’s sitting in, towards you, almost like he wants you to come and just sit right on his lap.

You offer a small smile across the dim bar, taking your drink and following your friends to the last open table they’d spotted. A high top, back to the stranger now, giving him the opportunity to see your shape. He swears you’re sticking your ass out on purpose, so he can see the soft skin where your jeans meet the bottom of your top. 

“Joel,” Tommy’s voice cuts through the bustle of the bar. “If you’re gonna be so fuckin’ miserable, we can go. There’s another place-“

Joel stops him, teetering his beer towards his brother. “This is fine. We can stay for another round.”

~ 

You pull yourself away from the group after finishing your round of sugary drinks and shots, your head beginning to buzz. “I’ll get the next ones,” you giggle, pushing yourself out of your seat and steadying yourself on the ground. “Green tea shots?” The girls hoot and holler back to you, as you turn on your heels towards the crowded bar. 

Joel gets up, almost looking panicked, when he sees that you’re leaving your group. He downs the rest of his beer and tips his head towards Tommy, as if to ask, “another?”. Tommy nods and sits back in his chair, continuing to observe. Joel makes a beeline, able to slide right beside you in line.

You can smell the cologne and laundry detergent on his clothes while he stands behind you, shuffling on his feet. You can almost feel his nerves, radiating off of his large form. 

He can smell your perfume and shampoo, it’s intoxicating. 

Joel is served first, the bartender leaning forward to listen to his request. “Two Buds, and uh,” you feel a soft hand on your shoulder. If you couldn’t see that it was him, someone would have a black eye.

“What are you drinkin’, darlin’?”

His voice is sweet like honey as he dips down to be so unbelievably close to your ear, his hand now on the side of your arm. Heat spreads up your neck at his proximity. 

“Oh, I’m getting like 4 shots, you don’t have to-“

“What kinda shots?”

“Uh, green tea. Green tea shots.”

“And four green tea shots.”

The bartender nods as Joel slides his cash across the bar, turning, and looking down at you slightly. You feel impossibly small in that moment.

“You really did not have to do that, thank you.” You’re on your tip toes, a hand pressed against his chest now, lips as close to his ear as you can get. 

He shivers. He can’t remember the last time someone was this close to him in this way. 

“No problem,” he waves it off, taking the two beers by the neck of the bottle and moving over slightly for you to grab the shots. 

Your ass brushes across the front of his jeans, and he knows it’s intentional.

“Thanks again for the drinks,” and you’ve disappeared back into the crowd in a second.

Oh. Nevermind.

He can’t help but feel a little dejected, slinking back to his seat with Tommy and passing him his beer. “Struck out, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Joel watches your table still, annoyed, but not entirely surprised. Pretty stupid of him to think you’d want to fraternize with a man such as himself, so much older than you. Maybe he’d come off too strong?

His head is all but hanging in his hands when he watches you get up again, your friends coming along with you. He averts his eyes in embarrassment, not noticing that you’re making your way over to his table.

Tommy notices.

“Ladies!” He draws out, hands thrown up in the air. Joel looks up then, locking in eyes with you immediately.

“Didn’t think I’d leave you hanging, did ya cowboy?” A smile tugs at his lips as you extend a hand to him. “After you were so nice?”

He laughs a little, your other friend taking a hold of Tommy and pulling him towards the crowded dance floor. He’s very easily persuaded.

“Come dance with me!”

“Oh, I’m not a dancer,” he laughs, warm and honeyed. It makes heat pool in your core.

“Neither am I. Come anyways.”

All he can do is obey, taking your hand and letting you lead him away from the table. 

~

The music pulses under your feet as you end up in a tight line, shoulder to shoulder. He can’t stop looking at you, leaning down to speak into your ear. 

“I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said I didn’t know how to dance,” he explains, and his breath is hot against the curve of your ear.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it when we start goin’. Just follow me.”

And I saddle up my horse

And I ride into the city

I make a lot of noise

Cause the girls

They are so pretty

Joel’s eyes are parked on your body as you start to move along to the steps of the line dance, feet tapping against the hard wood of the floor beneath you. Your hands are up by your face, clapping along to the beat. He tries to follow along, at least stepping in the right direction, clapping at the right time, but it’s no use.

Your body is insatiable - hips rolling to the pounding music. The curves and lines of your ass, paired with the soft tissue of your breasts nearly busting out of the top you chose to wear. Your skin is supple, shining against the dance floor lights that are favouring him right now as he lets a red blush engulf the skin of his cheeks and neck. 

He wonders what it looks like underneath, peeled off and bunched up around your ankles, or thrown on the floor of his bedroom. He thinks of fingering the ties of your shirt, loosening them and pushing it off, his hand across the front of your throat as he makes you look at yourself. How pretty you are. Goosebumps spread across the exposed skin of his arm.

You grab his hand suddenly, and he’s taken out of his daydream. Your eyes are fiery as you let yourself get even closer to him, feeling bold enough to put his hand across the small of your back.

“Follow me,” you command, as he looks down at the footwork you’re doing along to the song.

Riding up and down Broadway

On my old stud Leroy

And the girls say

Save a horse, ride a cowboy!

He attempts to follow it again, egged on by the feeling of your hot skin against his thumb. He could honestly maybe cum just from this touch alone if he really tried.

It’s not actually as hard as he thought, if he concentrates. A few steps, repeated over and over again, until it comes naturally. You notice how easily he picks it up, smiling up at him, beaming up while he’s lost in thought. 

The song picks up, and the whole floor is enthralled by the dance. You see Joel’s smile light up the room, and he hasn’t dared to move his hand from your back. You don’t mind.

When your body turns toward his, he halts before almost running into you, still following the steps along to the song.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

Your words take him by surprise, but they are not unwelcome. 

“Yes.” His hand envelops yours as he takes a look at Tommy, seeing that he’s still in the throws of the song with your friends.

Your hand leads him off the dance floor and towards the club bathroom, but he stops you, lips close to your ear again. “My truck is parked out back, if we want, a little more, um,” he clears his throat, “privacy.”

“Show me the way,” you smile, letting him pull you out the doors and into the darkness of the parking lot. 

He fishes for his keys nervously when you get to the side of his truck, an older model with blue paint. He can’t remember the last time he did anything like this, if he ever has, and it’s getting to his head.

“Let’s get in the back seat,” you say, taking him out of his trance. “Wanna feel you.”

He lets you in first, pushing across the bench seating as he slides in beside you. There’s a moment of awkwardness, before your hand reaches out to touch his denim-clad thigh. His breath hitches.

“Relax,” your smile is intoxicating to him, and he’s drinking you in. “We’re just here to have a little fun.”

He lets himself lurch forward, your lips pressed against his fervently. They’re rough and chapped, but cold from the beer he’d been nursing earlier, offering you some reprieve. 

Your hand snakes up his chest to the side of his throat, pulling him in to come closer and delve deeper. His tongue comes out to lick across your teeth and press against the soft wetness of your tongue, as his hand comes up to palm your breasts over your top, grabbing at any flesh he can get his fingers on. 

He quickly and deftly finds the bow Maddy had tied on the back, pulling it loose and letting the fabric relax so you he could pull it off of your form.

His hands began to explore the soft skin of your breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth as you arch into him and let a strained moan come from your lips.

“Fuck,” is all you can think to say, because his large hands are spread across your back, forcing you closer, and into him. Soft moans escape your lips as you let him take what he needs from you.

“Off,” he commands suddenly, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of your jeans and yanking them down, after you pop the button and undo the zipper. Your boots have come off at some point in the tussle, and now you’re naked in the back seat of a stranger’s car with not much to say for yourself.

You push his flannel down his shoulders as his weight hovers over you, revealing how strong he really is. Rippling biceps beneath his tight shirt, strong chest, kind eyes. 

You’re lying beneath him, when his hands come up under your thighs to push them apart and expose your pussy to him. He kneels between your soft thighs, thankful for the dark night sky around him, as he delves into your heat with his warm tongue.

You see stars when he makes first contact, a broad stripe of his tongue sending you into space. He’s hungry for it, immediately suckling onto your clit and wrapping his lips around it, strong hands still pushing your thighs apart. He’s taking his time to taste you, wild and intricate, feeling the bulge in his jeans strain against the zipper.

“Oh, fuck,” you manage to get out, in between breathless moans. Your hand came down to tangle in his hair, feeling the soft locks between your fingers, enjoying the way he’s making your hips roll onto his face. You can’t help but rut against him, soaking his wet mouth with your slick, using him to get yourself off.

He’s moaning into your pussy, working his own now-free cock in one of his hands, while the other delves two fingers into your core. Your breath catches in your throat when he fills you, stretching you open and wide for him, hitting the perfect spot to make your stomach start to spasm as you threatened to unravel beneath him.

“Fuck, so good, so so good,” you laugh breathlessly, the ecstasy beginning to take over as he continued to work your pussy, and you felt the familiar white-hot feeling along the back of your thighs.

“I’m gonna, — oh my god,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before he was tonguing at you harder, eyes flickering up to watch you. “I’m gonna fucking come.”

“Good girl,” he growls into you, only offering you momentary reprieve from his tongue before using the rest of his energy to help you ride out your orgasm on his face. Your hips bucked and spasmed against him, the windows fogging up with your hot breath as you fucked yourself on his fingers. He let you pull on his hair as moans tumbled from your lips, breathless and spent.

When you managed to come down, he took his fingers from inside you and pumped his cock a few times, now bobbing in between the two of you as he slid himself up your body to kiss up your chest and capture your soft lips into a kiss.

“Sit back,” you whispered, pushing on his chest to bring him back sitting upright. His jeans were pooled around his ankles now, and you had pulled his t-shirt over his head to meet the other clothes on the floor of the truck. You positioned yourself across his lap, pumping his cock a few times and feeling the girth around your fingers.

He looked blissed out, head against the headrest, savouring the feeling of your pretty hand around him. If he looked down between your two bodies he might come right then, at the sight. 

“You did so much work, baby,” you coo, sitting down on his thick cock and bottoming out immediately, just to watch his lips fall open and eyes flutter close at how tight you are. “Made me cum so easy.”

Your lips latch onto his neck as you kiss and lap at the rough skin, letting your hips rock back and forth, slowly at first. Getting used to his length inside of you would’ve been tough if he hadn’t opened you up so easily beforehand. 

“Move,” his hands come to your waist, lightly forcing you to grind down on his lap. His cock was hitting inside of you so perfectly as you swallowed him into your body, looking down as his head lulled back against the seat. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he started, letting you set the pace of your hips, hand coming up to paw at your breast once more.

“You like this cock, don’t you?” You nod, letting your hand come to the seat behind his head and steadying yourself before beginning to bounce in his lap. “Yeah, fuck, yeah I do.”

He’s in his element now, any and all shyness from the newness of the situation melting away as he pounded into you mercilessly. The truck was no doubt shaking back and forth a little, a steadying hand print the only window to the outside world. Joel didn’t even care if people could see, they’d just be jealous.

“I’m gonna, fuck-,” he starts, eyes cloudy at the edges, vision fuzzy as he looked up at you. You were fucked out, cock-drunk on him, watching as he was coming undone underneath you as you squeezed around him. “Oh yeah?” You tease, not letting up on the rhythm of your hips, his hand coming down to your ass in a firm slap.

You moaned then, arching your back into him and sitting back. “Where do you want me?”

He’s desperate to cum now. Even the thought of your pretty face beneath him, taking his hot ropes on your soft pink lips is making him jerk forward into you with need.

He pushes you off, and you wince from the loss of contact. He’s fisting his cock above you right away, pink tip ready to explode any second at the sight of you, tits pressed together. Your mouth is open, and he sticks his fingers in between your lips as you moan around them, tasting yourself.

“Cum all over me,” you start, pinching your nipples with your free hand. “Fuck, I want it.”

It’s enough for his knees to buckle and hot cum to shoot all over your stomach and tits, painting you white with his seed. His eyes squeeze shut as you watch him ride his orgasm out, balls emptying onto you as he slows down and regains consciousness, taking a second to drink you in when he can open his eyes again. 

Your breath is heaving as you take a finger to swipe some of his cum onto your finger, dipping the digit into your mouth. His brows furrow together as he pulls you up to kiss your lips, devouring you, hands coming up to each side of your face as if to thank you for such a good time.

“Been a while since I did anything like that,” he laughs, and you follow shyly. “You got like, a napkin?” You giggle, as he grabs something in the front seat for you to clean up with. “Thanks. That was fun.”

He nods in agreement, catching his breath before pulling his t-shirt over his head. “I suppose we should go back in there,” he checks his appearance in the rearview mirror, all blushed and fucked out. 

You put your top back on over your body, turning towards him. “Can you lace me back up, please?”

His hands begin to work at you, tightening a bow at the bottom much like it had been done before.

A thought crossed your mind that made a giggle escape your lips. “What?” Joel asked, amused, pulling his jeans back on over his hips. 

“I don’t think I ever got your name.”

He laughs too, thinking of the events that had transpired given neither of you knew such a basic piece of information. 

“I guess we can stick with cowboy.”

[missmugiwara]

Just Say It Already

Summary: fem!reader x Gojo // Satoru is an ass, but he's your ass. He just loves getting under your skin - especially with the way he's been calling you his girlfriend for years. But guess what? You're so in denial about it. Warning: 18+, NSFW, smut, flirty, the Gojo rizz, so much sexual tension going on but I live for that, friends to lovers, unprotected sex, swearing, it's complicated, slow burn, mutual pining Note: Oh my god. I told myself to stop writing for more fandoms, but look what happened. Foaming at the mouth for my insane love of this man. Some minor spoilers if not caught up to season 2?

✦ Word count is 7.7k. Thanks for bearing with me and reading! I just really love long stuff! ✦

Quietly, you spoke to Nanami as you recapped the details of your last mission with him and training Itadori. Nanami nodded here and there, looking focused, listening attentively and appearing as cool as ever. As you two conversed, you both didn't even realize a certain someone passing by on his way out of the meeting room. A small hum left Gojo's lips, and he paused at the doorway. As if to get a better view, his hand pulled the blindfold upward from his face to reveal a singular blue eye whilst adorning a smirk so wicked that it only meant one thing: Gojo was up to no good.

"Trying to steal my girlfriend away from me, hm?"

And the conversation instantly ended. Nanami hissed through his teeth. You twitched in anger, an apparent frown pulling your lips downward. In synch, you both turned to the white-haired man with the cheshire grin as he cocked his head to the side. That sapphire eye fluttered to meet your gaze. Another moment, and Gojo returned the blindfold to where it once was before resting his hands in his pockets. It was painfully obvious he was savoring this.

"Satoru! How many times do I gotta say it!? I'm not your girlfriend!"

You whipped around to face him, taking an index finger and poking him repeatedly in the chest. He only laughed in response. You whined and sped up the poking at his cheerful display, trying to hide your obvious chagrin somehow with this. You fought and fought so hard to stop the growing heat to your face, but your fluster was so evident to Gojo himself that you knew he would just tease you more.

As if he didn't do it enough already!

It was so difficult to try and not be flustered, but ugh. Gojo was so good at unraveling you at the seams no matter how many times you were accustomed to this… wooing, one guessed it could be called.

"Not my girlfriend yet!" he purred, cocky as ever. He grabbed your hand to rest on his chest, and you fumed even further when he took a step forward. When he loomed over you like that, it was so easy to forget how freaking tall he was. He seemed so big no matter what height you were. You immediately pulled your hand from his.

"Not your girlfriend ever! Stop saying that! People will get the wrong idea!"

"Oh, but I want them to get the wrong idea."

The blindfold was slid upward on his forehead again, held there by a thumb, just to make sure his sultry expression was visible. He peered at you with heavily lidded eyes and a smirk so coy that it -

Well, it just -

It just made your heart race. Made you melt. Made your mind spiral.

Once more, the rising heat against your cheeks blossomed anew.

Gojo had been doing this shit since the dawn of time. Ever since long ago, way back into your youth. You were students at the time, and you had been flirting with another student from the Kyoto school during the exchange event. Like a typical silly high schooler, you just wanted to go on a date. All of a sudden, Gojo came flying in and kicked the guy square in the face - knocking him out cold on the spot. When you frantically screamed out of confusion, Gojo responded with a cheeky smile.

"What? This guy's trash."

Another pause and he leered at the unconscious highschooler with a sort of dark gaze.

"Lay off my girlfriend."

Ever since then, your sweet Gojo interrupted your love life - continuing these daring exploits well into adulthood. It seemed he lived for the sole sake of pushing your buttons. Pushing your buttons and making sure you were miserable.

And single.

Forever.

One time, you both were walking together to a work meeting across campus - now that you both were teachers. You were engaged in a very flirty phone call with a boyfriend. Gojo swiped the phone from your hand, earning him a gasp. Answering a phone call with Gojo right next to you was a big mistake, and you clearly should have known better. You pathetically hopped next to his tall, lean frame to try grabbing the phone (as he stretched out one arm to comically hold you back).

"Oh, hey - yeah. Look, we are very busy right now," Gojo would emphasize provactively, "so don't call back." As Gojo pulled the phone from his ear, you heard screaming from the other end before Gojo promptly hung up. That's when you knew you had another ex.

There was even a time when Gojo had invited himself over (unannounced as usual) while you ran around your apartment wrapped in a towel to get ready for a date. It was with a shy guy you had been out with a handful of times. But when said date finally showed up to the door? Gojo answered it with a frown. Oh, your date was shocked to say the least: trembling, scared, a fumbling mess as he clutched a bouquet of flowers to his chest. His jaw dropped upon seeing Gojo - a way more attractive, beautiful, model-like man who for some reason was there. Gojo took only one look at the guy, just one look and -

"Oh, god, no."

And slammed the door right in his poor face. Gojo turned toward you, smirking as always, as your jaw dropped in turn. He gave you a deliciously teasing smirk. You couldn't believe Gojo would be so daring! You went to the bathroom for one second, and this happened? That guy you were seeing wasn't actually bad (well, maybe he was kind of a square, didn't like anything you did, a bad kisser… but still).

Why? Why? Why was Gojo doing this!? He made you so freaking mad!

Satoru Gojo was so arrogant, so infuriating, so unbearable! Not to mention, he was so…

So…

He was so…

So damn hot.

Fuck.

Let's face it - the man was walking sex.

Whatever spell Gojo put you under, you hoped it would last an eternity. Because loving him was so natural. Sure you got mad at him, but maybe - just maybe the way he wanted you all to himself was kind of attractive. Just a little. When he walked in the room, butterflies took flight in your stomach. When he smiled at you, you restrained from grabbing his face to smooch those glossy lips. The way he put his hand so casually on your knee while talking during a meeting would send you over the edge.

No one ever looked at you like Gojo did. No one ever made you feel like Gojo did. Man didn't even need to try and you were a hot mess.

And those guys mentioned before? They were trash, just like Gojo said. There were lots of failed relationships. Because one cheated on you, one stood you up, one borrowed your car and crashed it - and yet you kept dating losers? Now somehow Gojo was able to tell who would hurt you from the beginning. So he put up these ridiculous defenses to protect you.

Speaking of ridiculous, it even reminded you of how you broke up with someone once. They complained that you spent too much time with Gojo and needed to stop being his friend. Nothing had ever made you angrier than that. No way would you ever push Satoru Gojo out of your life.

Despite the failed relationships, there were some good times, but only because of Gojo. One time, Gojo appeared at your door with snacks and a movie. Upon seeing your puffy, red eyes fresh from crying after being dumped - Gojo immediately dropped everything and was off to kick the guy's ass.

Satoru Gojo really, truly cared about you. Even if people thought he cared about nothing but himself - well, they were just stupid. They didn't understand how loneliness accompanied great strength. Nobody understood him like you did.

There was nothing wrong with Gojo. You didn't hate him, and he certainly knew that too. Because the two of you knew each other for forever, and you were quite smitten. Quite comfortable in snuggling on the couch after a bad break up, quite comfortable with his head on your lap and talking into the early hours of the morning. Never kissed, never groped, never pushed any boundaries… and yet you ran back to him as if he were always your lover. And he to you, through all his casual dates as well. Dates that always made you seethe with jealousy.

Gojo was close to your heart, but he definitely got on your nerves! He was conceited, a jokester, always did whatever he wanted - but this flirting game was so confusing. With the way Gojo acted, it was just… was he serious about liking you like that or was he really just poking fun at you after all these years? And that's what drove you mad the most.

Or maybe what drove you mad the most was the way you kept trying to push him away. Maybe you were pretending to be mad at Gojo about all of this girlfriend nonsense, to find something that could be your excuse to not date him. Because you feared losing him in this mad jujutsu world, just like how you lost your friends Haibara and Geto long ago. Everything was so difficult even though your heart swelled at the way Gojo seemed to want you so much. What if you got in a relationship with Gojo and it ended badly? Heartbreak from Gojo would be awful, but heartbreak from others? That was easy. Why were you in these awful relationships and never putting effort into them?

Whatever the reason was, it was all so stupid. It was obvious you were acting absurd. But if Gojo could just be more clear instead of leaving you to writhe in whatever frustrated state this was - yes, that would be great. Or maybe if you could stop acting this way, this nonsensical way, that would also be great.

"You know I'm just talking work business with Nanami. No one's stealing me from you."

You scoffed and crossed your arms, cheeks still hot, as you turned away from the tall man. Hopefully, the sarcasm got across. Nanami was long gone by now since he was always annoyed by Gojo's persistent little attempts to drive you wild. A chuckle and Gojo stepped forward to press his chest into your back, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as his lips lowered to it.

"Aw, come on, baby. You know I'm the jealous type."

After a pause, he blew a puff of air into your ear rather hotly. You jumped out of your skin and squealed. Goosebumps erupted on your neck, and you clutched your chest as Gojo grinned widely. Damn him for being such a tease. After a moment of gaining composure (and catching your breath), you smirked impishly.

Because you were so bad. You stroked his ego only further than he did to himself. In fact, anyone could clearly see you egged each other on way too much. Many times, people had called you both out on it - insisted you two just needed to get a room already.

"Why, Satoru!" you batted your lashes dramatically, resting the back of your hand to your forehead, "No man could ever sweep me off my feet when I have you - the strongest. No one could ever compare. They should be jealous of you."

A pause. Gojo smiled as he pulled back in an amused manner.

"See? This is why we're perfect for each other. You get me."

Know what else could never compare? The audacity. The audacity this man had was second to none.

You snorted out a laugh, "Please! No need to feel so threatened."

"Oh, I assure you I'm not. Dumbasses who think they actually have a chance with you?" he paused to chuckle, "Just putting them in their place. No one's good enough for you. Only the best."

As you reached for your coat resting on a chair, you stopped. Quickly, you turned to Gojo to try reading his expression, but the blindfold was back to covering his eyes. His plump lips were upturned into an innocent, closed-mouth smile - a genuine smile over one of those carefree smirks. He leaned against the wall, hands in pockets again, waiting patiently.

Only the best.

A fiery heat fluttered over your cheeks. Huh, well he certainly believed he was the best, so was he referring to himself when he said you deserved the best? He took your breath away. He was sweet when it mattered most. He was arrogant but had a heart. Despite others overlooking this, only seeing Gojo as one thing - the strongest - you knew otherwise. For many years, you always thought you weren't perfect enough to be with the strongest. You worried about living in Gojo's shadow, of unwarranted expectations from others, of him judging you for not being like him… but those feelings were silly. Even though they still fizzled in the back of your brain. Moreover, Gojo never did think less of you. So after another moment of reflection, you mirrored his soft smile.

"Do you really mean that?"

"I don't lie to you."

A small chuckle.

"Satoru, you… you're so sweet, you know that?"

"I know! The sweetest, right? Quality boyfriend material!"

His pink cheeks and goofy grin were adorable, his hands splayed out into the air in emphasis of his quality. In a failed attempt to look mad, you stifled a laugh. Gojo got you once again with his bravado. He was amazing. The way his tone brightened up and became chipper. The way he was so serious one minute and so silly the next.

For a split second, you wondered why your mouth just moved on its own.

You placed your hands on your hips as you gave him a lidded gaze, "Careful, Satoru! I just might fall for you."

Gojo sang back, "That's the plan!"

No hesitation whatsoever. Too bad he didn't know you fell years ago. Unless if he did know then you were just his plaything again, but you were more than happy to be his personal toy. More than happy to be used and teased by Satoru Gojo. Whatever he wanted. Why keep doing this to yourself though? Ignoring the rising anxiety, you draped your coat over your arm and turned to him.

"You know what would make me fall even more? Being spoiled. Let's go grab a drink, yeah? You pay this time!"

A grin as you walked up to the man, slinging an arm around his waist.

"Whaaat? Come on!"

He said facetiously, also with a smile, only to rest a lean arm around your shoulders as you laughed. And so began another trip to the bar between a couple of old friends after a terribly boring work meeting. More like a couple of fools, cackling down the sidewalk, arms around each other - acting as if they were already drunk. A couple of fools, sitting on an empty train car as the sun set - your arms wrapped possesively around Gojo's and your head leaning against his shoulder. Faces so close you could feel each other's breaths between all the jokes, the snickers, the whispers, the attempts at flirting but you shooting him down. A couple of fools, you whining when Gojo's mouth pressed close to the sensitive skin at your neck, nearly nipping you. A couple of fools, with you smacking his hand away when it rose too comfortably inward on your thigh.

A couple of fools indeed.

Since it was a weekday, the bar was pretty empty. The lights were low, and Gojo grabbed his drink only to cause the ice to clink gently when raised to his mouth. He took a sip, then set it down. He was never really a drinker, but once in a while he indulged. His crystal blue eyes darted over to meet your gaze. You rested your head in your hand and released a heavenly sigh.

He looked damn good. White collared shirt with the first few buttons undone, part of his collar bone peeking out, dark sunglasses perched so prettily atop his nose. His niveous hair flowed and framed his perfect face like a work of art.

He really was so gorgeous. Beauty so effortless.

His gaze turned lusty as he noticed you staring.

"Like what you see?"

Lay off my girlfriend.

Gojo's lips curled into a delicious smirk at the memory of the first time he called you his precious girlfriend. Honestly, he just did it out of boredom and wanted to see how angry you would get. Oh, and he was right about one thing.

It was so funny.

So he kept it up. Even when you went to college and took a hiatus from jujutsu. Even when he hung out with you between classes. Even when you came back. When you stood in your new teaching uniform at the gate to the school grounds, Gojo called out.

"Oh, did you miss me that much that you came crawling back? Well, I forgive you because… you're my girl. My one and only."

The wind blew, and you turned to him with the most astonished expression ever. The way he said that… he spoke so lovingly. Gojo tilted his head. How could you look so speechless when he had been calling you his for years? Amazing. A pause, and a tender look in your misty eyes formed. A tiny smile appeared, but you bit your lip to stop it from growing. Gojo's breath caught in his chest. He had never seen that look before. He thought you were going to get mad for certain.

"Come on, you big baby. We talk all the time! But if you must know, I did miss working with you… my Satoru. You never change."

A moment more, and Gojo realized -

Damn.

My Satoru.

He could have been brought to his knees. The way you looked melted his heart. The way your lips were glossed and eyes shined. The new hairstyle. The way your body formed new curvatures that were pleasing to his eyes. The way your face matured with the smallest of wrinkles now slightly forming as you began to approach your thirties. He knew it must have been from crinkling your face while laughing at his jokes all these years. He had never seen anything so sexy.

He did take a risk by calling you something different today, and he was so glad. Girlfriend never sounded crazy to him. It was the only thing he could say without freaking you out too much - to let you know how he felt. There was a problem though. It sounded so informal.

He wanted more than that.

Gojo always liked you. It was always more than a little crush. If you had asked, he would have told you how he felt without hesitation… but it never happened. Would you be all right with loving the strongest? Would that lead to high expectations of him being the perfect boyfriend? Huh. Gojo didn't give it much thought. Not that he was worried. Why was everything so hard? It didn't have to be, but you were both acting like children. Just because Satoru Gojo was the strongest did not mean he had everything. He did not have you. One of his best friends. The one that stayed.

He didn't mind waiting for you.

The look you gave him was so loving. And the way your eyes softened at him? Ugh, he couldn't take it. You never gave that look to anybody but Gojo. Nobody ever smiled at him like you did. Nobody ever wrapped their arms around him like you did. The way your mood brightened up when he walked in the room always sent him over the edge.

God, if only.

If only he could show you how much he loved you. If only you could scrunch up that pretty face while lying underneath him. Moaning with pleasure, eyes rolling back, crying out -

"Satoru!"

You whined, slapping your hands on the bar top. A chorus of glass shaking caused Gojo to blink and turn back to you, a slight blush on his face.

That was enough to snap you both out of lechorous daydreams. It was clear as day Gojo caught your dreamy gaze since you were so stupidly swirling the straw in your drink while biting your bottom lip a second ago. Gojo hummed playfully, his brows furrowing inward as he looked around for a second.

He raised his arm in the air to call the bartender, exclaiming that his girlfriend needed another drink to which you slapped his hand down. Oh, how he loved to embarass you as punishment. The moment you walked in that bar, Gojo went off. Really loudly, he drawled out the most shameful things. Oh, how sexy his girlfriend looked today. Oh, how thirsty his girlfriend was, and oh, how good of a boyfriend he was for taking his sweet girlfriend out.

He asked if you wanted another drink. You shook your head, murmuring that you were done for the day - just off to use the restroom before leaving. As usual, you insisted he could go on home without you, but he never took up the offer. Never wanted to go unless you were leaving with him. Now that you thought about it, that sounded very implicative. So with a wave of your hand to brush off your fluster, you told Gojo you'd be back in a minute.

Apparently, a lot can happen in one minute.

Because when you returned, some chick was seated next to Gojo. She had an obnoxious laugh, an incredibly ugly outfit, and Gojo looked utterly bored as he stared straight ahead at the wall of liquor behind the bar.

Your brows furrowed in disgust. She was trying to flirt, to get his number, or something. More importantly, this bitch needed to know that Gojo was here with you. This was when you hoped (oh god, for once you were admitting it) he would just simply state that he had… a girlfriend. Gojo never got the chance because you never left room for one. In a fit of rage, your body just moved on its own and flew over there. Gojo and the woman both looked up at you once your hand slammed on the bar.

"Get your hands off my -"

But you froze.

Your what?

"My…"

Your voice trembled. The expression in Gojo's eyes was so clearly readable when a smirk curled upon his lips. Because he sure as hell knew what was happening. You could practically read his mercilessly toying thoughts.

Hm? Just say it already.

That's exactly what he would say outloud! If he wanted. And he could, but alas he loved to torture you more. You could already imagine his velvety voice coming from those pretty, pretty lips of his.

You know you want to.

"My…"

Stop lying to yourself.

"My boyfriend!"

Gojo's mouth went into the surprised shape of an o, then a toothy grin. The woman's eyes widened in bewilderment. Immediately, she threw her hands up and backed away slowly. The expression on your face was indescribable. You glared as if she were a dumbstruck animal that just accidentally walked right into a wolf's den (with you being the wolf of course). You lividly watched her, making sure her ass scooted so far out of the bar that she was completely out of sight.

As soon as that woman was gone, you let out a sigh and your body relaxed. Fists unballed from your sides, and feeling those gorgeous blue eyes boring into your soul, you froze. Gojo was still there. So nervously, you blinked at him with a forced smile, but no amount of explanation could make this normal. No amount of excuses could get him to think otherwise. Especially from a tease like him who just heard the greatest slip-up of all time that revealed everything he wanted to hear but already knew deep down in his heart.

Gojo's sapphire eyes slowly drooped at you, the dark sunglasses slipping from his nose. The look he gave was absolutely sexy. He blinked once before his lips turned into a raunchy smirk.

"Your boyfriend, huh?"

That look, that dangerous yet lustful look in his eyes made your heart race. No matter what signals your brain fired to your body, you could not move. The first thought was: oh no, was this a mistake? The second was waiting for an onslaught of merciless jokes and teasing. But the latter never appeared. Carefully, you watched Gojo move smoothly as he took his chin from his hand, uncrossed his legs, and stood up.

"You wanna get outta here?"

He leaned his forehead to touch yours as his voice lowered to a whisper. It took every single ounce of willpower to stop yourself from pouncing him, from melting into a gooey, lovesick puddle on the floor. Gojo's breath fanned across your lips, and you whimpered at the sensation. Cheeks burning hot, you clutched your hands to your chest as Gojo chuckled before licking his lips. Eyes glued to his beautiful blue orbs. Your voice was barely a squeak, barely a whisper.

"Yes. Yes, I do. So badly."

With a hum, he just simply grabbed his coat.

"Turn around."

Gojo mused, and the smirk never left his face. On command, you immediately turned on your heel. Gojo gently draped his large coat over your shoulders. With his other free arm, he just gabbed your purse and coat to fold it over his arm. For some reason, your face was on fire at the gesture. Your mind was reeling.

"Then let's go, sweetheart. Can't keep you waiting any longer now, can I?"

An arm slung around your shoulders, Gojo's head tipped high into the air proudly as he led you out of the bar.

It was only an instant.

A blink of your eyes, and suddenly you were both in your apartment living room. Knowing Gojo as long as you have, teleportation antics were quite normal to deal with by now.

A pause.

You and Gojo just stared at each other. It was obvious your face was heated in a fluster, and cutely enough, there was a pink hue to his cheeks. Neither of you moved for a few seconds. Neither of you bothered to turn on the lights. His pale face was illuminated by the moonlight peeking through the windows. Then Gojo moved. He dropped your things to the floor and when his knuckles brushed against your jaw, thumb tucked under your chin as he leaned in -

It was over.

Your eyes fluttered shut, heartbeat thundered, lips parted as you let out a breathless sigh. Eagerly, you tipped your head upward to meet him.

Satoru Gojo's mouth touched yours.

The softest, most gentle kiss you had ever received. His lips were soft, plump - everything you imagined and more. They were warm. They were angelic. It was enough to make you question whether you were in heaven right now. A simple, soft kiss that lasted for a few seconds, and Gojo pulled away. When his lips released yours, he smirked because you had let out the tiniest moan.

With a slight nervous laugh, you both leaned in again to repeat that same soft kiss. This time, the white-haired seraph gently held your face in his hands, and you moved your arms so quickly to rest against his chest that the jacket slipped from your shoulders to join the rest of the belongings on the floor. Your lips moved slowly, smacking against his own once, twice, three times before he dipped his tongue past your lips - and you were losing it. If he said so, you would have dropped your panties then and there. When you pulled away for a breath, you both grinned sheepishly.

That low chuckle, that smirk upon his face when he brushed his thumbs over your cheeks. If only your mouth could make words, but he took your breath away.

"Took you long enough."

There it was. The comment you were bracing yourself for. When your throat tightened and you gripped at his shirt sleeves as he was about to turn away, Gojo stopped. He blinked in perplexion, about to ask why you clung to him, when his heart dropped. Your eyes watered and eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh my god… you're - you're crying. You're actually crying!" and Gojo settled his hands at your waist with the softest of touches.

Confusion was apparent in his blue eyes - you two had just shared a passionate kiss, and all of a sudden you were crying? Gojo was not one to panic, however, he really hoped this was not a terrible mistake and he had not hurt you in any way. When he led you to sit next to him on the couch, he did not ask any questions. He just waited. Waited until you were ready. There was a brief moment where Gojo had gracefully waltzed over to the bathroom, grabbed a tissue and handed it to you when he sat back down. Again, Satoru Gojo really was so sweet to you, and he placed a hand on your thigh.

"I'm just… so stupid!"

Oh.

He instantly knew what that was in reference to. Truth be told, he always knew how you felt about him, and you did too. He also knew you must have felt like an idiot for wasting all this time, for not just going after him earlier in life. To hell with all that. He couldn't care less.

"You're not stupid, babe."

"But I -"

A finger was pressed to your lips.

"Just shut up."

With a smile, he drew back his finger.

"Everything couldn't be more perfect."

With a hum, you tucked your chin down to stare at your hands folded in your lap. A tiny, gingerly smile graced your lips.

"Okay."

There was another pause as Gojo shuffled in his seat, bending downward to pick up all the dropped items on the floor. He placed them onto the coffee table with ease, then picked up his coat.

"I should go."

He firmly stood up and threw the coat over his shoulder. He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. With that loving gaze you always gave, the one he was such a fan of, you watched as he proudly strode over to the door. He wanted to give you some more time - was not about to start putting on the moves when you seemed a little upset. Especially on a work night, no less. When his hand settled on the doorknob, he whipped his head to you and smiled so widely that his eyes clamped shut.

"I'll call you tomorrow?"

Oh, too cute. The way he said that implied he was going to anyway but wanted to check first. You let out a small laugh. Surely, he did not forget you would see each other first thing in the morning at work, right? Tomorrow was the last day before summer break, after all.

"Satoru, we're going to -"

"Don't ruin it, babe!"

Another confident grin from him caused you to giggle. With a roll of your eyes, you grinned back.

"Yes! You can call me!"

"Great. Today was wonderful, by the way. Good night then."

"Good night."

There was another pause. No way you could just let him leave after all that.

"Satoru?"

Gojo's ears pricked at your tone. He turned to you. You jumped up from your seat and twiddled your fingers, hoping it would distract you from them trembling.

"I - I… will you stay over for the night?"

A red hue dusted over Gojo's cheeks as he blinked in amazement. A second to register what had been asked as your eyes away from his. For the umpteenth time that evening, that delectable smirk graced Gojo's plump lips.

"What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you down?"

It started innocently enough.

Gojo was used to this. He asked you to grab extra blankets and pillows as you usually did when he stayed over. He was prepared to sleep on the couch, but something was a little different in the way you stared at him then. You tucked your chin downward.

"No, no…"

And he paused.

"You… you can sleep in my room with me."

He froze again with a red hue so gorgeously plastered across his cheeks. There was a silence for some time, but another smirk from Gojo and he moved.

Gojo kicked his shoes off and leap-frogged over the couch to land next to you, grin and all. The impact caused you to bounce on the cushion, and in bashful fashion, you brought your hand to your mouth to stifle any giggles. When Gojo grabbed your thighs to pull your body closer, the giggles only increased as he peppered your face with kisses. Oh, it was supposed to be innocent. This relationship was still fresh. No need to rush, after all. Just throw on a movie and cuddle on the couch like you've done so much before. But then -

Gojo kissed your mouth.

So softly. So sweetly. So tenderly.

Then you kissed his.

With such ease, the white-haired man pulled you into his lap. His hands at your hips, thumbs rubbing gentle little circles. Your hands, holding his face as your lips pressed in perfect synch to each other. Those sweet, little kisses transformed into tonguing, and then that led to biting. Then it only became hotter when those kisses turned into sloppy, open-mouthed kisses and grunts and groans.

It didn't matter that a movie was never decided upon. In fact, why would you want to watch a movie when this was so much more fun? Hot and slow touches began to sneak under clothes, on areas of skin you didn't even know needed touches, areas that you could never fathom feeling so electric underneath his fingers.

"Oh my god… angel," Gojo breathed, "you keep up those pretty little noises, and I won't be able to control myself anymore."

"Then don't."

He pulled back for a second. Gently, you held his face in your hands while running your thumbs over his cheeks. He gave a cheesy smile.

"Ugh, will you marry me?"

A heat returned to your cheeks as you rolled your eyes at his teasing. A second more, and he pulled you back to him - clutching his arms around your form, nearly knocking you on your back as his mouth immediately went to your neck for little nips and kisses to it. He was so strong, and he was just tickling you endlessly as you laughed uncontrollably.

"Ah! Sa… Satoru!" you laughed wildly, trying to push him away, "Satoru, please!"

"Satoru, please."

Body thrown against the mattress, lips feverishly mashing and molding against each other's, so many delicious moans and groans and hums inbetween them all, and what sweet music to your ears. A growl, one that sent shivers down your spine, and Gojo pulled away for a split second to snatch your collared shirt from your shoulder before firmly planting his lips to your skin, giving a quick bite. Oh, it would definitely leave a bruise as you clenched at the sheets below you in desperation for support, or some form of relief. But how cute because that bruise would only match the other marks adorning your chest.

Gojo's lips moved expertly along your collar bone and settled on your neck, leaving hot and wet kisses against your skin. A tingly yet ignited feeling that left you yearning for more as you whined, being pushed into the bed further. The sensation of his warm saliva on your neck, leaving wet stamps of his lips and soft traces of his tongue, reduced you to a mewling mess. One of your hands clutched against Gojo's chest to ball the fabric of his shirt, and with the other free hand, running it along the satisfying undercut of his hair before gripping his white locks.

"You're mine." he breathed against your skin, "Mine, mine, mine."

"Yes… ah - all yours!" you panted as you ran a hand through his hair again. A whimper escaped your lips when his tongue slid up your neck, "Always have been, always will."

Yes. It was always this way. Your feelings were limitless.

There was no doubt in your mind. Should not have ever tried to ignore your heart especially when it raced upon seeing him every single day. Why in the world did you date such losers when you could have had…

Satoru.

Satoru, Satoru, Satoru.

"Yeah, that's right, sweetheart."

Breath caught in your chest at his angelic beauty. And before you could gasp, his lips were back to your neck. They left such needy kisses, such sloppy, yummy kisses. His touch was leaving you drunk as your eyelids drooped heavily. Your will was breaking, practically bursting at the seams. Just thinking how badly you needed his mouth everywhere else. But you didn't have time to tell him when you turned your head further and released a moan that had the man chuckling lowly in your ear. The smirk on his face only grew when his hips bucked into yours, and you gasped while drawing your trembling arms around him in attempts to steady yourself.

"Goj - oh!"

"Ah, ah, ah - Satoru." he corrected, and your legs could have turned to jelly right there at his seductive tone. Your entire body could have melted into a puddle. He could have said the least sexiest thing in the world like that, and you could still fall for him.

"How long have you known me? You gettin' shy on me?"

A whine left your lips when you realized you said his last name. You just couldn't think straight. One thing was obvious though. It was obvious from the start that Satoru Gojo was in charge especially with how sugary he spoke. Such a sweet tone. Such honey-kissed, nectar-like, addicting words that dripped from his lips just like you were dripping wet with arousal. Heart pounding, core throbbing.

"It's cute."

Gojo was here and all yours. You couldn't believe it. Especially when you opened your eyes to take in this irresistible scene. Gojo, sunglasses thrown off somewhere to reveal those sapphire eyes, with his white shirt unbuttoned to show off his toned chest heaving to catch his breath. His pants looked a little too tight, hardly hiding his hard-on beneath them. He hovered over you, hands on either side of your poor, dizzy, flushed head. Those sky blue eyes roamed over your nearly naked form - which was barely covered by undergarments, with one bra strap already straying from a shoulder.

"N-no, I'm not being shy."

"Look at you. You're just a mess right now, sweetheart." he grinned, lowering his mouth to breathe against your ear, "Haven't even done anything yet."

A brush of his fingers against the wet, clothed spot between your thighs made your hands clutch his chest on command. They glided up to rest on his shoulders, effortlessly slipping beneath the fabric to slide the shirt from his beautiful, marble-like form. For a second, he stood on his knees to finish slipping the shirt off before undoing his belt, letting the small clink ring in the air. Pants were unzipped, leaving them to hang precariously from his hips, and Gojo returned back to his beloved spot, pink lips hovering over your own. You pressed a finger to his mouth and he paused.

"Please, Satoru…" you whispered, "don't tease me. You always do."

Gojo planted a quick kiss to your fingertip before his tongue poked out to run along it, causing you to freeze in surprise. He opened his mouth to gently suck your finger in, massaging his tongue against it before releasing you with a pop of his mouth.

"Oh, but it's sooo fun. I live for it."

That was always obvious since forever ago. Ugh, that sexy drawl and that smirk to match it. He was amazing in every way. So, running your fingers against the undercut at his neck, you whispered.

"Need you bad, Satoru."

You grabbed a fistful of his white locks, leading his mouth to your own to repeat that hot make-out session from earlier on the couch. Lips completely locked, not even stopping at getting in the way of clothes flying off, not even in the way of bodies swiftly moving and hands grasping at skin. His hands roamed over your breasts, squeezing them - biting with his teeth, pinching nipples and leaving you a moaning mess. His hands roamed over your thighs, over your ass - no part left untouched, but always savored. Nothing stopped this limitless love, even when Gojo hooked an arm under your legs and tossed you effortlessly into position on the bed - your head landing perfectly on its pillow while Gojo bounced on the mattress above you, mouth against mouth again in a heated kiss, slipping out a groan between parted lips.

A raspy whisper, "You ready for me?"

And you bashfully nodded yes, smiles and all as your sweet Gojo - the strongest, the most insufferable, but the most loving - positioned himself so that his pretty cock slid between your slick folds. A gasp escaped your lips when he groaned from how deep it went. Another gasp, followed by your soft moans when he started thrusting, giving that good friction and allowing your walls to tighten and suck him in further.

"Oh, fuck, sweetheart - fuck! So perfect."

"Sa… Satoru, fu - oh!"

A sharp intake of air once Gojo used a hand to greedily slide over the plushness of your thigh. He moved it ever so slightly, pulling it up a bit higher around his waist so that you both froze in place immediately, before letting out a pleasured groan in synch. The new angle which allowed him to go somehow deeper made your head spin.

Oh my gooood.

Your eyes clamped shut at the sensation, drool pooling at your mouth from how delicious Gojo's body was and when his lips drunkenly met yours, matching in swolleness. A little more speed, and you wrapped an arm around his neck as you just whined into his shoulder, clawing the skin at his back.

Oh my god oh my god oh my god more.

"Toru, fuck!"

Babbling his name over and over like a prayer. Curse words and moans spilling from both your mouths. Begging for Gojo to be faster, to be harder because god dammit you had waited too many years for this and he did too. Skin slapping on skin, sweat making your bodies stick together, and you could only grip onto him tighter as you were nearly screaming from the pleasure warming up your body.

"I love you, I love you, I fucking love you! Please, please, please, please, please!"

"Fuck, y-yeah… Love - love you too!"

And that tight coil in your lower half only got tighter and tighter, until - It snapped. The pleasure igniting your body as you were filled with his seed. You thought you saw stars? Forget that. Gojo could have put you in his domain, and you would have thanked him. A quick kiss to your mouth, raking your fingers through his damp locks before he released you to finally breathe, to ride out this high with a few slow and lazy thrusts of his hips. Lazily, you blinked the tears from your eyes. How sexy Gojo looked in this moment - if that even meant anything because he always looked good. His pure white hair stuck to his forehead in cute, wavy tufts. The way his pale face was red and flushed at the cheeks, lips so swollen to complement this as he panted, sweat shining on his skin in the dull light of the bedroom. Eyes clamped shut to recover from his high, but feeling your gaze on him, he blinked once. Your heart thumped in your chest at the sight of his illuminated blue eyes looking at you with hunger, glowing if just for a split second before he blinked again and the glow was gone. Your face heated up again - no, you must have imagined it.

"So you love me?"

He purred, eyes drooping at your flushed out face. Seemed he caught you staring off into space again. He panted against your skin, bringing you back from the endless blue maze that were his eyes.

"I do." you purred back with a smirk.

Between all the pants, Gojo cupped a hand to your face. He leaned to give you a quick peck on the forehead, then grunted when he laid next to you. When he got comfortable, you shuffled over to lay your head on his chest and firmly grab his jaw - giving a small kiss as he groaned into it. You pulled back to stroke a white lock from his forehead as he watched you with those blue eyes of his.

He smirked - one that meant he was up to no good again.

"So glad to be here with my pretty wife."

A pause.

You gawked at him. Literally, your jaw dropped open. Naturally, Gojo adorned a very wide grin and he swiftly crossed his arms behind his head.

"Oho… wife now?"

"I know, I know!" he winked, "Can't help it."

"You're kidding."

"Come oooon, let's just get married."

"Satoru!"

"Oh, yeah, baby. Say my name again."

"SATORU."

If only.

If only you weren't further embarrassed when Gojo pressed his lips to yours in a kiss again. And if only you two hadn't kept going all night, you would have never accidentally overslept into the next day. You both fumbled to school to be late to a faculty meeting. Of course, all eyes were on you. Because the staff sure as hell knew what happened judging by the shaken appearances (and bites to your neck that you forgot to hide).

And, if only Gojo didn't make things worse.

"Sorry, all! Guess my wife and I got a little carried away last night! But what are you going to do when two young adults are in love, am I right?"

You had never seen everyone's eyes widen in synch before.

[hazelsmirrorball]

 Rockstar girlfriend II. | Hazel Callahan

Rockstar! Hazel Callahan x Popstar! Reader Summary: Hazel Callahan and Y/n L/n have to be in a pr relationship, but both of them can stand each other.  Warnings: Enemies to lovers! Enemies to lovers! Enemies to lovers! Heavy makeout session,  smoking. English isn’t my main language  a/n: Wrote this in class so I hope you gusy enjoy! Plus I’m really grateful on all the love you gave to the last one 

part one. part three. part four. part five

Heart throb and Rock sensation, Hazel Callahan from the band ‘The Bottoms’ was caught making out with a C list celebrity.   

Every press was good press or at least that was something her manager tried to convince her that being associated with Hazel Callahan was a good thing for her career. She wanted to agree but seeing the picture stare back at her with that damn headline made her go insane. She couldn’t believe it was even possible to be more pissed off at Hazel Callahan, more than she once was. Hazel got praised for the things she did. Rock sensation and Heart Throb and what did Y/n get? C list celebrity? Was this some type of cruel joke? Did Hazel personally know the writer of the article? Was she fucking them? Either way she was on the editors good side and also on the press good side. 

The picture had gotten a lot of attention, like a LOT of attention. The publicity stunt had done its job  spreading like wildfire. Hazel’s ring covered hands gripping onto her ass while Y/n moaned into the kiss. Hazel white tank tops rose up whilst Y/n’s skirt was almost at her stomach.  Both of the girls' hair was a mess and both of them look like they enjoy the kiss. 

The picture haunted Y/n’s head, there was evidence that she was melting into her biggest enemy's touch. Everything was a constant reminder of that. Instead of Y/n falling asleep pissed out of her mind because of some random shit Hazel did now she found herself falling asleep flustered. The only thought running through her head was Hazel's hands running all over her body and her sweet kisses. She had heard through other celebrities that Hazel was a good kisser but never would it cross her mind that she was going to test that theory. When Y/n tried writing a song she would find herself unconsciously trying to find words that rhyme with Hazel. If the lingering touch wasn’t enough all Y/n could see was the damn picture of them making out. In very elaborate almost pornographic fan edits, news articles and magazines, t-shirts, everywhere. Even Brittney went to the point of making that picture her wallpaper to mess with her. 

Things were different now, not a good different, but different. She still despised Hazel; the only thing that had changed was the kiss between the two and the fact that people now knew that they didn’t hate each other. So their PR team was actually onto something because song streams from both sides were upping by the minute. Gaining followers left to right, both fandoms trying to uncover which song was dedicated for who. Every drama reporter and Late Night show host tried contacting their management team just to get the scoop on what was happening between the two. So management made it their mission to ride that heat of the moment.  

That’s how Y/n, Isabel and Brittney found themselves backstage in The Bottoms concert. Management wanted people to link Hazel with Y/n as the “Rock Star girlfriend” so after fighting for her manager for what felt like hours she found herself pushing past people to find Hazel. Her management team wanted fans to see Y/n wearing something that belonged to Hazel, so  they would think they were a couple. 

Y/n looked at the door in front of her, Hazel name written in her messy writing on a small whiteboard. Her hand reached towards the door handle, slowly opened the door to the dressing room. Y/n instantly scrunched up her nose as the smell of cigarettes overtook her nostrils. She looked around the dark room in front of her furrowing her eyes. The room was filled with half empty beer bottles, pizza boxes, several cigarette budds, dirty shirts and other things she couldn’t even understand what they were. They had only been here for a day, how was it possible for her to make such a mess. 

“Aren’t you going to say hi to your favorite girl?” A voice spoke, making Y/n turn towards the couch watching how Hazel inhaled the smoke from her cigarette. Hazel leaned back comfortably onto the leather couch, her leather covered legs spread open as she looked at her with barely open eyes. Y/n’s eyes followed her lips watching how the smoke slowly escaped her lips. She could feel her face turn red cursing herself for feeling like this in front of her. 

“Hello.” Y/n barely managed to get out, not knowing what to say. Usually she would bitch out at Hazel with ease. Going off for hours annoyed at the girl, but now she was a flustered mess, imagining those leather pants rubbing against her thighs. 

“L/n? You are usually very vocal? Ever since our little work session you don’t know what to say. My hotness finally caught up to you?” Hazel replied, tapping her cigarette on the ashtray next to her, stubbing it out. She sent a smile her way, running her now available ring-covered hands over her pants slowly. Hazel smirked watching how Y/n’s eyes didn’t leave her hands. 

“Shut up” Y/n mumbled, gaining her composure glaring down at her, her anger once again showing up. Hazel let out a chuckle not moving from her place looking at Y/n through her long eyelashes. Y/n noticed the hint of a mischievous look in her eyes. What was she thinking about? 

“What? Is my little D lister bitch flustered? Remember this is all professional, L/n. If it weren’t for this stupid contract I wouldn’t let you five feet near me. You are lucky that I even touch you.” Hazel replied tauntingly, sending a smirk her way. Her arms stretched against the backrest of the couch. Y/n lips scrunched up as she furrowed her eyebrows pissed off out of her mind. Y/n moved towards Hazel pulling her towards Y/n by the silver chain that adorned her neck. 

“Let me tell you something, Callahan. I don’t want this. If it weren't from my damn manager fighting with me to be here, I would be anywhere but here. So don’t get too cocky, like you said this, this is professional. So you can call me an actress, because your touch didn’t do shit” Y/n gripped on her chain harder as Hazel looked up at her fake shook covering her face. Her hands reached up in a defensive manner while her gaze turned in her usually cocky one. 

“They don’t call me a master with my hands just because I’m good with the guitar, sweetheart. I know how to differentiate a fake moan from a real one and what you did wasn't fake.” Hazel reached out towards Y/n pushing a string of her hair behind her ear sending a shiver  up  her spine.  Y/n searched for the words to say but she couldn’t find a word in the dictionary to make a comeback. Hazel hands reached towards her waist pushing Y/n down on her lap. 

“You look stressed, why don’t you take a smoke?” Hazel continued reaching for the table next to them, handing her  the box of cigarettes. Y/n looked down at the cigarettes in her lap and slowly looked up at Hazel taking in every inch of her. 

“I don’t smoke” Y/n replied, looking to the side. Hazel took the box of cigarettes in her hand, taking one out and placing it on her lips. She quickly bucked her hips up still holding onto Y/n with one hand to slip out her lighter. Hazel pushed  the end of the lighter against Y/n chin making her look at her. 

“You are tense, you need to ease down. So help me out, pretty girl” The said while gripping onto the cigarette on her teeth. Hazel handed the lighter to Y/n waiting for her to light it up. Y/n slowly leaned in, turning the lighter on the flame hitting Hazel’s skin making her glow. Y/n looked at Hazel’s closed eyes, the messy smokey liner surrounding her eyes caused a small smile to form on her lips. Hazel slowly gripped on her waist to make her continue. She slowly lights up the cigarette resting her hand on Hazel’s cheek. Turning off the lighter and placing it on the table next to her, not breaking eye contact with Hazel. 

Hazel closed her eyes inhaling the smoke for a few seconds keeping the smoke inside her mouth. She removed the cigarette slowly searching for Y/n’s eyes leaning towards, her lips hovering Y/n’s lips. Hazel placed the cigarette down on the ashtray slowly placing her thumb in between Y/n’s lips slowly opening them up. Hazel blew out the smoke on to Y/n’s mouth. Y/n closed her eyes, humming from the sensation. Y/n attached their lips together finding herself in the same predicament as a few days ago. Both girls fighting for dominance not wanting to lose the upper hand. 

But before Hazel could even do anything else, Y/n’s had moved her lips from hers and latched onto her neck. Y/n left sloppy kisses on Hazel’s neck, she kisses all over trying to find Hazel’s sweet spot. After a few seconds a soft whimper escaped from Hazel’s lips making Y/n smirk into her neck. She worked on that area whilst Hazel bit her lip in an attempt to cover her moans. 

“If you aren’t vocal, I’ll stop sweetheart” Y/n replied imitating Hazel's usual tone , blowing against the freshly done hickey. Hazel glared at her, taking her by the neck and pushing her against the couch pinning her down. Y/n looked up at her pissed out of her mind, while Hazel smirked her chain hanging against her face softly hitting her nose. 

“Never forget who’s in charge” She replied, letting go of her neck and moving off her heading towards the door. 

“Where are you even going?” Y/n asked looking up from the couch. Hazel chuckled turning towards her. 

“I���m going to do a show, so don’t miss me too much” and with that Hazel was gone. 

Hazel maybe had won the fight but Y/n was going to win the war. The next morning news articles made Y/n wake up in joy. Headliners making her go insane but this time in a good way. 

Y/n L/n, popstar sensation, making it known that her bass playing girlfriend is hers. 

...

Thank you for reading!

next part

[previous part]

[patchworkgargoyle]

Booty 🌿

Steve has a plan, and Eddie falls for it. || read on ao3

Here it finally is, folks! My first smut for the ST fandom. I hope you like it!! Inspired by this post.

WC: ~4.8k || E || CW: Unsafe sex

“Please, Eddie?”

“Are you insane, Steve? It’s hotter than Satan’s taint out there, you cannot expect me to peel myself off this couch.”

Eddie heard a frustrated sigh and a small thud, imagining that Steve had let his head drop on the wall by his phone. “Yeah, I’m aware, I’m sweating buckets right now. But I gotta have the car fixed before tomorrow, I promised Claudia I’d pick up Dustin from the bus station and I can’t do that if it won’t start.”

Thing was, Eddie did kinda want to go and help him, heatwave be damned. They’d grown close in the months since spring break and despite his previous misgivings Eddie had gotten to like Steve. More than he should, really. He can’t help it if his queer little heart does a jig every time he manages to make Steve laugh in that eye-crinkling, head-tipped-back kind of way. Got good at it too, which made Eddie feel a great deal of selfish pride. And if he can’t take his eyes off the long lines of Steve’s mole-dotted neck, that’s his own business.

But this was something else. As soon as Steve called to ask if Eddie would help fix the Bimmer he couldn’t get the thought of him–sweaty and greasy and bent over the open hood of the car, his hair falling just so and lip bitten between his teeth in concentration–out of his dirty little mind. The things he’d want to do. It did as much to convince Eddie to go as it did to make him want to keep his distance.

He was a weak man, however.

“Fine. Alright. But you’d better make it worth my time, I’m risking my pale, un-sunburnt ass for this.”

Steve snorted. “Don’t worry, I will,” he said blandly.

They hung up after Eddie promised to be there in a few minutes, and he rolled off of the couch with a melodramatic groan. Moving in the muggy heat trapped inside the trailer sucked, but he wasn’t going to back out. Steve had sounded so relieved when he’d said goodbye that it gave Eddie enough pep to lurch his way to the kitchen to grab a few cold beers before scrambling into his van. He appreciated his own forethought when he burned his hand on the door handle and could hold a cold bottle against the spot. Fucking summer.

Parking in the Harringtons’ driveway, he spotted the Bimmer pulled halfway into the garage, the front shaded by the overhang in what must be an attempt to avoid the worst of the sunlight. The hood was popped open, but Eddie couldn’t see Steve.

“Ohh Stevie!” he sang, “your knight in shining armour has arrived!” He heard something thunk from the garage but got no response, so he wandered inside, trying to peer around the hood. “I come bearing gifts but they’re gonna get–”

Wheels squeaked from below and Eddie looked down, only to be treated to the sight of Steve’s legs, long and hairy and sprawled open, flexing as he dragged himself out from under the car on the creeper and revealing more inches of mouth-watering thighs. He was–oh fuck, Steve was wearing the tiniest cut-off jean shorts Eddie had ever seen, the fabric of the pockets poking out from under the frayed hems. They were tight, too, hugging his hips and, god, his bulge. The white tank top Steve wore had ridden up, too, exposing the trail of hair that dipped below the fucking shorts, but Eddie followed it up, along the grease stains and the swell of his pecs to Steve’s grinning face.

“...Hot.” Eddie’s voice cracked around the word.

“What was that?” Steve asked.

Clearing his throat, Eddie said, “The beer, it’s uh, gonna get hot.” Somehow he managed to not sound like he was choking on his own drool while Steve still stared up at him from the ground, a few strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. There was a slight smear of dirt across his cheek and Eddie wanted to lick it off.

“You know where the fridge is, Eddie, if you’re that worried.”

“Nah, you look like you need a break. Get up here,” he said, waggling the bottle over Steve’s face. Steve chuckled but finally stood and relieved Eddie of the misery of seeing Steve on his back and not having been the one to put him there.

He popped the caps off with the bottle opener on his keychain, and Steve took his with a ‘thank you,’ downing half in a few gulps. Eddie distracted himself from the sight of Steve’s throat bobbing by peering over at the engine.

“So what’s the issue, doc?”

Steve pulled away from the bottle with a soft popping sound from his pink lips and a gasp. “Dunno yet. That’s why I called you,” he said, leaning on the car beside Eddie. “Oil and battery are fine, spark plugs look good too.”

“She been making a sputtering kind of sound recently? Could be the throttle.”

“Nah, no weird noises.”

Eddie hummed, then set his bottle aside. “Alright, let’s get underneath her then.” Lowering himself onto the creeper and sliding under the car, he said, “Could be a belt has finally busted. Got a flashlight?”

“Really need to ask that?” Steve’s voice got fainter as he walked a little ways away. “The kids insisted on a disaster preparedness kit after round two with the Upside Down.”

There was a tap on the wood under Eddie’s hip, and blindly he reached down to grab the flashlight Steve found. He tinkered around under the Bimmer, unable to wipe away the sweat that started to drip and stick his bangs to his forehead. But eventually he began to roll back out into open, but no less stupidly hot, air.

“Looks like everything’s shipshape, captain–” Eddie choked on his own words when he looked up and was met with a sight straight out of his wet dreams.

Steve stood over Eddie, his legs spread wide enough that Eddie had rolled right between them. If he sat down, Steve would be straddling Eddie’s hips, but that would deprive him of this new angle at which to admire all of Steve’s assets wrapped so tightly in frayed, lightwash denim. Mouth falling open, Eddie let out an eloquent, “Uhhh,” and Steve laughed, holding out his hand.

“Thought you’d like a hand,” Steve explained, smirking.

He took it without thinking and let Steve haul him off the creeper board and up to his feet. A kick, and Steve sent the board skittering away underneath the car, but Eddie barely winced at the noise. He was too busy standing so close to Steve that they breathed the same humid air. If he so much as swayed, their noses would bump together. Christ, Steve had pretty eyes, a bright, warm brown flecked with amber even in the shade of the garage and he swore he could see Steve’s pupils dilate the longer their gazes locked together.

“So, what were you saying?” Steve asked in a low tone. He tilted his head ever so slightly and those eyes held some kind of dare within them, one eyebrow ticked upward. Eddie couldn’t help swallowing, licking his lips, and Steve went from staring into Eddie’s eyes to down at his lips.

“Just saying that, that everything looked fine. Might, uh, might be the crankshaft or the–” Steve stepped forward just enough to bring their chests together, the back of Eddie’s knees hitting the bumper, and Eddie’s breath hitched, his voice cracking, “–the sensor.”

“Eddie.” The way Steve said his name sent a frisson of heat through Eddie, right to his dick, which was becoming a very obvious guest between them.

“Yeah, Stevie?” he whispered.

Broad, warm hands wrapped around Eddie’s slim hips. Steve worked a finger through a belt loop on each side and tugged, and Eddie realised he wasn’t the only one with a hard on when Steve’s pressed up against his own, pulling a hiss of pleasure from them both. Oh, shit. Leaning impossibly closer, Steve’s lips brushed against Eddie’s when he spoke. “I don’t care about the car right now.”

That snapped whatever faint, lingering reservations Eddie had. “Fuck, Stevie, please kiss m–” He didn’t even finish before Steve’s lips crashed into his, plush and hungry. It wasn’t long before Eddie began to nip and lick, his teeth drawing short, pleased noises from Steve’s mouth before he pulled back a scant inch.

“Fucking finally,” Steve said, and dove back in, biting back, making Eddie groan. His hands found their way to Steve’s sides, then, spurred on by Steve’s enthusiasm, he reached down and grabbed at his ass. His fingers wrapped under the hem and he yanked Steve’s hips in and up, rising to meet them.

Steve’s cock grinding against Eddie’s was a fucking revelation. From the way Steve’s mouth parted with a hot gasp, Eddie guessed he felt the same. “Hold on, baby,” he rasped, and using what leverage he had, Eddie hoisted Steve onto his lap, Steve’s knees spread and braced on the car. There was no way he could keep them there for long, but fuck it was hot, rutting their hips together while they kissed, wet and messy.

Eddie tasted the salt of his own sweat when Steve licked into his mouth and moaned, hands fisted into the denim in his grip, feeling more sweat beginning to drip down his back. The heat was stifling, but nothing compared to what started to grow in Eddie’s gut. One of Steve’s hands buried in his curls and pulled, had Eddie bucking up and whimpering around Steve’s tongue. He could come like this, dry humping on top of the Bimmer, lap full of Steve in those shorts, hands on his perfect ass, would’ve if the idea weren’t more embarrassing than hot.

“St-Steve, wait,” Eddie panted, whining again when Steve’s hand clenched in his hair again.

“Why’d you stop? Don’t wanna stop, Eddie,” Steve groaned, before a little more clarity seeped into him and he leaned back into his arms, concerned. “Or, shit, wait, is this okay?”

“God, fuck yes this is okay. Been thinking about this forever, man.” Steve smiled widely, verging on a little goofy, before ducking in and pressing open-mouthed kisses to Eddie’s throat. Eddie’s arms began to shake. His legs had long since begun to tremble. “But, hang on, ah, I’m gonna either drop you or come in my shorts in like two minutes if we don’t rethink this.”

All that did was make Steve start rocking into him again. “Hot,” he mumbled as he licked up a trail of sweat under Eddie’s jaw, making Eddie swear and tip his head back.

Eddie’s knees decided to buckle right then. They shouted, Eddie scrambled, locking Steve in his arms and getting his feet under himself before standing, his hands still hooked around Steve’s ass while Steve’s legs clung to his waist. Steve’s shocked expression likely matched Eddie’s, before he rested his forehead against Eddie’s and laughed so hard his body shook. Helpless, Eddie joined in, holding Steve close while their giggling faded out. But his arms were aching so, gently, he put Steve down.

“Do you wanna stop?” Steve asked. Eddie shook his head.

“You?” Steve shook his. “Thank fuck,” Eddie said. He ran his hands over Steve’s ass, over the crease of his thigh, the tips of his fingers tickling the hair on the back of his thighs before guiding him close again. “Didn’t wanna let you go now that I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Steve dove into Eddie’s mouth with a hungry groan. The slick sounds of their lips echoed in the garage. With a tug, Steve turned them around and backed up into the car, his hands wandering underneath Eddie’s cut up Iron Maiden tee and clutching at his sides, over the fresh demobat scars, nails digging in bluntly.

Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off Steve either. He pawed at whatever he could, finding the places that made Steve pant and hum into his mouth. But he wanted more, because Eddie has always been a bit greedy. One hand snaked its way around to cup Steve through the shorts that barely contained him, pressing his fingers around the hard outline of Steve’s cock and squeezing, rubbing. The low, raspy moan he got for his efforts made Eddie grin wolfishly.

Head lolling back, Steve breathed hard and rose to meet each stroke of Eddie’s palm. Eddie began to bite and suck his way down the strong line of Steve’s neck, biting every mole he could find. “E-Eddie, I want you to fuck me.”

The words made Eddie bite down just shy of too hard. Steve whined, and Eddie lapped at the spot in apology. “I wanna, I wanna so bad, Steve, but we’re fucking filthy, sweetheart,” he mumbled into Steve’s neck.

“Don’t need to do anything. I, mmh, prepared for this.”

Eddie pulled back to blink at him in disbelief. “You what?”

“I’ve been wanting this for months and nothing was working! So I just, made this as obvious as I fucking could.”

“Months?” Eddie’s jaw dropped when Steve gave him a look that managed to be both fond, flirty, and frustrated. “I could’ve been fucking you for months!?”

“Or I could’ve been fucking you.”

That idea, as sexy as it was, had to be pushed aside before it managed to make Eddie’s horny little brain leak out of his ears. “Putting a pin in that, that’s absolutely gonna happen, but I wanna revisit something. You prepared?”

Steve smirked. “Yeah,” he said, simple and cocky and so hot Eddie could combust. Eddie tried to capture Steve’s lips again but Steve stopped him with a firm hand against his chest, pushing Eddie back a few steps. Turning, he closed the hood of his car and instead of twisting back around to face Eddie, Steve leaned on his arms and arched his back.

Now that was a sight. Steve’s long, tan legs spread just so, one knee cocked to give a slight tilt to his hips. The firm, round swell of his ass peeking out under the denim that struggled to hold together. And right on the apex of those pretty, biteable, jean-clad cheeks: two dark, dirty handprints. There’s even the blackened imprint of fingers on Steve’s skin. Eddie’s fingers, Eddie’s hands. His cock twitched against his zipper and he moaned out, “Ohhh my god…”

Looking over his shoulder, Steve’s smug smirk grew, and he tilted his hips up a little further. “I know I look good, Munson, but are you gonna do something about it or what?”

Eddie stepped forward and draped himself along the expanse of Steve’s back, rutting his hips into Steve’s and making him hum sweetly. “Don’t have to get bratty about it, baby,” he said. He dragged his fingers along Steve’s sides, letting his nails catch on the soft texture of Steve’s scars before dipping down and popping his button open in one swift motion. “Tell me how you prepared.”

He felt the shiver his words evoked run down Steve’s spine. As he slid the zipper down and slid his hand in to find Steve had gone commando–both of them groaning when Eddie’s hand wrapped around Steve’s leaking, twitching cock–Eddie nuzzled into the dip between Steve’s ear and neck, inhaling the scent of his sweat and musk and the faint traces of a clean, fresh cologne valiantly hanging on.

“I, I got this toy. In Indy,” Steve gasped as Eddie pumped him, pulling his cock out as his hand sped up the more Steve spoke. “Worked myself open on it.”

“What’dya think of?” Eddie squeezed.

“You,” Steve keened, jerking into Eddie’s grip.

“Fuck. God. Alright, enough of this.” Standing, Eddie took his hand away and ignored the needy noise Steve made to instead yank the shorts down. Steve only bothered to step out of one leg, having to kick his foot when they got stuck on his shoe. It made his cheeks jiggle. Eddie couldn’t resist giving him a few taps just to watch it again before spreading those cheeks with his thumbs. More dirt smeared over Steve’s dewy skin, but that was only the opening act. The true star of the show glistened with lube and twitched under Eddie’s hungry stare, already loose and used and ready for him. He held himself back from burying his tongue in Steve’s hole, but just barely, letting out a low, hungry rumble instead.

Eddie couldn't move fast enough after that. He grappled with his belt, popped the button of his shorts and shoved them and his boxers out of the way enough for his cock to spring out without help. Then he stepped forward. Eddie let out a shuddering gasp when his aching cock met the searing heat of Steve’s taint and smeared precome along it, echoed when Steve sighed unsteadily as his head slipped up, up, up. Brushed over Steve’s hole once, twice, before catching on the rim.

“Please, Eddie,” Steve whined as he pushed back, and who was Eddie to deny such a pretty request?

He thrust forward and sank into Steve with a slick sound and such little resistance that Eddie’s jaw dropped open in a soundless moan, eyelids fluttering at the hot, wet clench of muscle around him. Another thrust and Steve groaned thickly, his head tilting back so Eddie could see how his bitten-red lips parted deliciously.

“Steve, you good? Please tell me you’re good. Fuck. I wanna fuck you so bad, you feel so good, hot, please Steve,” Eddie begged and rambled, his hands shaking with the need to grab and pull and take.

“If you don’t fucking start right now I’m leaving–”

That was all the permission Eddie needed.

He sank slowly past that ring of muscle and Eddie didn’t have the capacity to be embarrassed about the high-pitched, breathy whine that escaped him. Steve really had prepped, just loose enough and slick enough, but he still took his time. He wanted to savour this, the way he slid into Steve’s tight heat, how the feeling made his legs tremble and his stomach clench. Steve deserved the caution. At first, at least.

“Tell me,” Eddie demanded, needing to talk to distract from the sheer feeling of bliss of being enveloped by Steve. “Tell me about what you were thinking when you fucked yourself on that dildo.”

Steve’s head tilted back with a moan, his brows drawn together, and Eddie longed to bite and lick the strong column of his throat, but he didn’t want to get distracted. He wanted to know.

“I thought about your fingers, first. Those rings, fuck, they drive me nuts. Wish you’d worn them today.” Eddie gave his hips a firm squeeze, fingers spread wide to catch as much soft skin as he could, and grinned when he felt Steve clench around him and heard a stuttering breath.

“I’ll wear them next time, big boy. Wanna see how good they look when I’m jerking you off.” The appreciative groan caused by Eddie’s words was divine.

“God yes. Next time.”

Of course it was then that the phrase sunk in. Next time. Eddie hadn’t even noticed he’d said it but Steve repeating it had something other than raging hormones rising in his gut. He didn’t even have time to process the implication because Steve kept going, and started meeting Eddie’s thrusts with small movements of his own.

“Then I thought about your dick. Y’know, it’s so hard not to stare when you get out of the pool.”

“Did you?”

“Duh.” Steve shot a bitchy look over his shoulder. The usual power behind the look was lost in the bright red flush on his face. It completely fell apart when Eddie shifted and hit somewhere new, Steve’s mouth dropping open with a guttural noise that made Eddie’s cock twitch. “S-shit, it’s so perfect,” he said.

Steve’s head hung loose from his shoulders, forehead resting on the hood of the car, needy, lingering moans bouncing off the metal, breath and sweat condensing on it while Eddie inched further into him every time he slid out and pressed back in. With his palms on the Bimmer, Steve used the leverage to rock into Eddie, the muscles in his shoulders rippling under the white cotton tank starting to go translucent with sweat.

Watching his cock steadily disappear into Steve’s hole was addicting. He leaned back to get a better view of how he split Steve open between the grimy handprints he’d left on the globes of his ass, placed his hands there again and dug his nails in, making Steve’s hips jerk so that Eddie sank the rest of the way with a groan.

“God, Eddie,” Steve mumbled, “fuck, you feel so. So, uh, so good.”

“Y-you too, baby.” Eddie could barely form words. The tight pressure around his cock threatened to end things there and then, but Eddie closed his eyes and breathed, letting the fire and the urge and the want die down to a less immediate threat. But then he opened his eyes, saw how good they looked locked together, the way his darker thatch caught against the lighter brown hairs decorating Steve’s ass, both of them wet from the lube he’d pushed out of his hole, and jesus fucking christ he didn’t want, he needed.

Pulling out slowly and bracing Steve’s hips with a punishing grip was the only warning he gave before snapping forward with a loud grunt, the slap of damp skin a filthy echo in the garage. Steve cried out at the second hard thrust, choked off when Eddie kept going, his hips picking up speed.

“Good?” Eddie gasped. Nodding, Steve uttered a desperate, pleading ‘yes’ that made him fuck into Steve faster.

“Look so fucking hot, Steve,” he started babbling, his voice reedy with pleasure. “God, my handprints on you. Want ‘em to stain, be there forever.” Steve moaned and Eddie felt him tighten around his cock. “Like that, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, fuck, I do, I do!”

Eddie leaned forward, draped himself across Steve’s back, and the angle was so fucking good, so much better, and he knew he’d started pounding into Steve’s prostate by the way his gasps had turned into a delicious mix of thin moans and choked out grunts. Fucking him into the car, Eddie let his hands roam. He rucked up the tank top, watched as the last of the dirt on his hands smeared over Steve’s perfect, scarred skin like loving and greedy claw marks. Finding a nipple, he pinched and squeezed until Steve writhed and squirmed.

Then Steve reached up. Buried a hand into Eddie’s hair, grabbed a handful and pulled.

“Oh fuck!” Eddie whined, his hips stuttering, the pain mixing with pleasure and zinging down his spine.

Steve chuckled, unsteady and breathy but so self-satisfied. “Thought about this… for so long, Eddie.”

“Thinkin’ about me so much, sweetheart. I’m honoured. What, hah, what did you think about?” he asked into Steve’s neck, lips catching on his skin, tempting him to lick, to bite. He did, groaning at the taste of salt.

“This. On your couch, by the pool, my bed, anywhere. Been desperate for it.” Steve pulled Eddie closer by his hair while he bounced back on Eddie’s cock as if to prove it. “Or, shit, bending you over that throne of yours and fucking you into it.” Eddie let out a pitchy whimper and Steve cooed in a way that could’ve been condescending but instead made Eddie melt. “But now, now that I know the kinds of fucking sounds you make–t-there, yes–I wanna take you apart. Slow a-and gentle until you’re a mess–”

He cut himself off with a broken moan. Eddie’s hips kept up their brutal pace with short, sharp, hard thrusts, the sound of their sweat-slicked fucking and and the jingle of Eddie’s belt buckle filling the room. His brain was nothing but static. The image was stuck in a loop like the end of a record left to spin. Eddie heard a desperate, animalistic whine and realised it came from himself.

“Close, baby?” Steve asked. Eddie nodded frantically, his lips dragging through beads of sweat dripping down his neck. He’d been holding it off, the fraying coil threatening to snap, his balls aching as they slapped into Steve’s asscheeks.

“You?” Eddie wanted to beg for Steve to be ready. 

“Getting there, just, don’t stop,” Steve gasped.

Twisting, Steve pulled Eddie down to catch his lips in an open-mouthed kiss, fingers tangled in his damp curls. Their tongues met sloppily. Shared panting breaths like trying to inhale each other. Eddie’s thrusts were starting to falter. He was going to shake apart at this rate. Might just shatter when he comes, the pressure and heat and need too much and so fucking perfect.

“Steve,” Eddie whined, and Steve’s eyes met his. “So good to me, Stevie, sweetheart. Feel so wet, fuckin’ beautiful. Nee–mmh–need you, need you to come, please baby, please.”

“Touch me,” Steve said, practically commanded, and Eddie wasted no time.

Spitting in his hand and hoping it was enough, Eddie wrapped his fingers around Steve’s dick, mixing his spit with the shocking amount of precome leaking from the head and spreading it over his length. Christ he was hung. Steve let out a relieved sigh, which Eddie swallowed, smashing their lips together again while fucking hard enough that he rocked Steve into his fist. Steve started making little ah, ah, ah noises. Next time–please let there actually be a next time–he’d worship this cock in the ways he wanted to, the ways Steve deserved, but for now he pumped him mercilessly. Then, then.

Steve seized, a full-body tremble ripping through him as he came, pulsing in Eddie’s hand as he tightened around Eddie’s cock and he was so fucking gorgeous, plush kissed-red lips open in a silent scream, so hot and tight and, and, and–

With a hoarse shout, Eddie came too, rutting helplessly into Steve as he rode out the sparking shockwaves that also had him shaking, the wet sounds between them even more obscene with Eddie’s come slicking the way. He finally stopped when Steve’s whimpers sounded a little too sharp. Breathing heavily, Eddie braced himself on the hood of the car on weak arms to keep himself from collapsing on top of Steve, only letting his head rest in the crook of Steve’s neck where he left one final, achingly gentle love bite.

“Okay?” he whispered.

“Mhmm,” Steve hummed contentedly, leaning his head against Eddie’s, their damp hair sticking together.

“Gonna pull out now, Stevie, okay?” When Steve just nodded lazily, Eddie slowly pulled out, both of them groaning at the feeling. And he couldn’t keep himself from parting Steve’s cheeks to see his come dribble out a little, feeling a great deal of pride and greedy satisfaction at the sight.

“Bit late to ask, but you’re still clean, right? After all those tests for the bat bites?” Steve asked, grimacing when he stood up. He was the perfect picture of debauchery, only wearing his rumpled, practically see-through tank top, socks, and shoes, with his hair a wild mess and sweat still dripping from his forehead. The dirty fingerprints and red marks starting to bloom on his neck and hips were Eddie’s favourite part.

“Yep, only time I’ll ever thank those shady government fuckers for poking me with all those needles.” Eddie grinned at Steve’s tired, but fond, chuckle.

Steve looked at the car with heavy-lidded eyes, then did a double-take. “Shit, I gotta wash that off.” There, on the shiny burgundy hood of the Bimmer, was the white splash of Steve’s come, stark against the dark colour. Eddie started cackling and Steve complained, “Dude, shut up, it’ll ruin the paint!” 

“Gonna wash your car without these, Winnie the Pooh?” Eddie bent down to scoop up Steve’s shorts, dangling them from a finger. He laughed when Steve snatched them back with a glare that barely hid his begrudging smile. While he stepped back into them with a wince, Eddie said, “Interesting choice of clothing to work on your car, by the way.”

“Worked, though, didn’t it?”

“What?” Eddie’s eyes narrowed when Steve smiled innocently and shrugged before he wandered off to get a chamois towel and soap. And it clicked. “You planned this? You lured me in with slutty shorts?”

Tossing the towel up and catching it, Steve’s smile widened into something smug. “Yep.”

“Wait. Is the car even broken?”

Steve just offered Eddie another sly shrug and started wiping his come off the hood.

[olderthannetfic]

Can I poke the bear for a moment and get angry? Because I'm seeing "posting as activism" more and more in fandom spaces, and tonight I saw a post that made me lose it.

There is a post about (current events) going around that says, "full offense, but in this time, your own comfort doesn't fucking matter, you should be uncomfortable about things that are happening, and I hope you can fucking live with yourselves if you are quiet. It takes five seconds to retweet or reblog, fuck your aesthetic, fuck your anything aesthetic."

And my god. How dare they.

Yes, there is severely fucked up shit happening. Yes, people should be aware that people are being killed. Yes, there are people who are just shrugging about it and pissing off. But how does reblogging a post certify someone as Good or Bad? How does this person know that someone hasn't already helped out meaningfully in some way, or is still helping out, but on other websites? How does this person know that someone isn't barely holding on by the skin of their teeth, and they would have a mental breakdown if they got closer to any more stressful things?

I know a multitude of people, including myself, who have recently either needed to call lines, check into facilities, move back in with their parents, or go on medication because of how insane things have become in their own lives. How does this person not understand that blogging; being on tumblr; engaging in fandom, having a small space that someone can control in its entirety, is a reprieve for people who are already at their wit's end outside of that space? And that's okay.

(We are not doing the relative privation shit in this house. I refuse to entertain that.)

Ironically, by insisting that people participate in sharing posts when they're already stressed and exhausted, that's a surefire way to make their problems worse, and potentially prevent them from acting helpfully in the future because suddenly, their exhaustion turns into full-blown burnout. That's how it works. Professionals tell you to dial things back if you are too overwhelmed. There is a reason for that. There is a limit to how much people can mentally process and handle. Compassion fatigue exists. For a lot of us, we are already at our limit. We need space to relax, and not have arbitrary obligations thrown on us. That is not our fault, it is not a character flaw, it does not mean we are bad people. And just because horrific things are happening elsewhere, it does not mean we can, or should, stop taking care of ourselves first. Yes, it feels shitty to think, "you know what, I can't reblog this". You bet your ass that I and my friends feel guilty about not being able to engage as much as we think we should, but that is how it goes. I can put my head underwater for a bit. But I cannot keep my head underwater forever. I will drown.

Not to mention the obvious part: guilt-tripping people to the extent of implying they are somehow contributing to genocide, just because they won't reblog a post, and implying they should not be able to live with themselves if they do that, is beyond revolting.

I am angry, and I am not sorry.

--

So many of those kinds of posts—and they turn up during every set of horrific real world events—sound like people who are in a country far away from the events, diaspora at most but probably just randos, venting their impotent rage because it's the only way they can feel productive in a situation where nothing they can do is productive.

[l0velylecter]

you can be the boss, philip graves / reader & captain john price / reader

— ‘ a fire in his eyes, know, i saw it.’

summary : graves (or) price sees you all beautiful and can’t help but ruin you pairings : philip graves / reader & captain john price / reader fandom : call of duty modern warfare ii pairing :  f!reader / phillip graves , f!reader /  captain john price rating : m for suggestive themes, minors don’t interact (mdni!), not safe for work (nsfw!) warnings : graphic descriptions of sex, cursing  tags : kissing, making out, degration, sub/dom dynamics, spanking, oral , sex alternative title : the cod : mw ii men as lana del rey songs, vol.i  song used for inspiration : you can be the boss by lana del rey

You taste like the fourth of July Malt liquor on your breath, my, my…

01 | “ C’mere baby,” Phillip grinned, pulling you atop his lap. With both your legs straddling his hips, he used a hand to palm your ass before squeezing it — abruptly pulling you forward and directly atop his growing bulge. He swallowed your gasp with a rough kiss : he smells like malt liquor and the expensive perfume you got him last Christmas, and when you rub your nose against his chin, you giggled at the feel of his stubble. 

The man is all teeth and tongue: your boyfriend never gets past the first hour of going home from a mission without getting handsy with you. The dinner reservation at his favourite restaurant no longer relevant when he saw you applying your lipstick by the vanity table. You let out a small laugh at the sight of rogue red lip stains peppering his face and smearing his cheeks, only to moan the moment he bunches your dress up to your waist, his eyes lighting up at the sudden realisation that you weren't wearing anything underneath. He bit into your bottom lip, his voice dropping in between kisses.

" Naughty girl. What should I do with you, hm ?" 

You grind down and he let out a strained, “ Fuck.” 

Almost immediately, he had you over his knees — ass up in the air. 

“ You dirty little slut. It’s almost like you’re begging for it.”

A ringing sound echoed around the private bedroom you share, bouncing off the walls and windows, and with it, over your right cheek, came a flash of pain that lingered briefly, brilliantly — the sharp yet exquisite pain, forcing out a cry of surprise from you. Seconds after the shock turned into warm, ripe heat, Phillip spanked you again, pulling a shameless, high-pitched moan out of you.

“ Easy girl, this is what you get for teasing me after all those nights alone, thinking about you, kissing you, fucking you. You drive me insane, you know that ?” 

His other hand started stroking down your lower back, and now you understand why he chose this backless dress for you — he’s always had this fascination of running his fingers, his lips down your spine: gently, smoothly. His thumb rubbed over your skin: the softness of it, in contrast to the sharp heat from his spanking drove you to the edge.

By the fourth spank, he had his other hand working on your clit, the onslaught of stimuli making you come immediately. Yet even when you’re panting and shaking over his lap, Phillip still has the audacity to tease you, moving to the bed so he can pull your hair down to hear your whine.  With your nails running down his back, you tried pulling him into a kiss, but because he’s an asshole — Phillip resisted with his lips hovering above yours. You know what he wants, and you smacked his chest weakly, frustrated that right before you climax, he started to edge you on: refusing to sink into you even if you can feel him right at your already soaking entrance. “ C’mon sweetheart, you know what I want.”

Sobbing from how his hand is still in between your legs, you whimpered, “ Please, Phillip, kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.” “ Is that all ?” “ Fuck me, please ! I want you in me.” “ Good girl, you know I love that shit,” He chuckled, and with a kiss, he finally buried himself inside of you in one go: your body warm and inviting, having remembered the shape of his body against yours. He’s ruined you for other men, and the cocky bastard knows this.

He had a cigarette with his number on it He gave it over to me, “Do you want it?”

02 | " My woman," Price murmured against your shoulder, his beard scratching over the skin and making you laugh. You let out a content sigh, eyes still glued onto the vanity mirror. The reflection of the jewels resting across your neck rendered you speechless, fingers still gently caressing the diamonds — the cool texture paired with his hands running up and down your shoulders sending a shiver down your spine. You turn to face him, stroking the side of his face before tenderly kissing him, "Thank you... it's beautiful." 

One of your favorite things about him is that he always spoils you with gifts. He never greets you empty-handed, whether, with a bouquet or a necklace so expensive that knowing the fee nearly made you pass out, he showers you with affection. But gifts are not the only way Price pampers you.

Hearing you so awed and breathless did things to him, and when you were looking up at him so sweetly — Price couldn't resist.

" Christ," He groaned, sliding a hand under your chin to pull you to his lips. You grinned against his kisses, inhaling the scent of tobacco and bergamot while his thumb stroked your chin. You had to remind him that you were only human, and when you gasped, he kept his fingers around your neck: careful to put just the right amount of pressure to make your mind heady with excitement.

With one big swoop, he carried you onto the bed like you weighed nothing, giving you a nice view of his arms. Out of his uniform and in his crisp button-down shirt, you bit your lip in anticipation as you watched Price roll down his sleeves to the elbows. Catching you staring, he raised a brow, " Patience, love. Now be good and lay down for me, will you ?"

You nodded.

" I didn't quite catch that."

" Yes..sir"

He grinned, " That's it."

He ran a hand up your thigh, starting from your calves before slowly, teasingly going up — the feather-light touches enough to make you squirm. Yet he scolds you by stopping, " Hands to yourself, sweetheart. No touching unless I say so, understood?"

" But-"

" Don't make me repeat myself."

Keeping your mouth shut, you felt like pulling your hair out. But you knew Price likes to take his time to admire you, to undress you with his eyes; it would have made you come if it wasn't for the promise of more. Eventually, he positioned himself between your legs, his heated look disappearing underneath your dress. Your head nearly collided against the headboard when he gave one long lick across your clit, his rough and calloused fingers joining soon after.

And when you come down from your climax, Price would give your hip an encouraging squeeze, easing you through your high. He kisses you almost immediately, letting you taste yourself on him. It's euphoric how protected and cared for you feel around Price, and when he undresses you like a present, leaving you with nothing but the necklace on, he worships you through each thrust. Praising you for how good you take him, for how warm and tight and perfect you are for him.

It was clear who was in control, whether in the field or the bedroom — Price moved to conquer, to mark, to seize. Just as he gives, he takes, and tonight he has his eyes on you.

a/n : price is so lana del rey vinyl, and this lana song definitely reminds me of  them. i need sugar daddy price and graves spoiling their s/os. with how much cigar this man smokes, i just know price has a butler, a mansion and generational wealth left behind by his war hero grandfather. ( lily-rose depp who ? my favorite nepo baby is captain john price ) and graves definitely takes pride in being the traditional breadwinner ( and i am willing housewife ) i hope you enjoy this ! 

[nqueso-emergency]

I’m on Twitter for other fandoms and groups but I still do dip into 911twt, for a small group of sane people and to see if anyone needs to be blocked. And sometimes it’s hours that go by and nothing new pops up when in the search timeline and I sit there and really think about the number of people I’ve blocked just for my sanity. And it’s kinda crazy that I’ve had to do that.

I can also say with almost 100% certainty whenever I see someone pop up in the search timeline “looking for mutuals” that it’ll be an immediate block. Like it’s always “buddie truther”, “buddie season 8”, “temu hater”… yada yada yada. Like even if I didn’t block so many people I can still say 911twt is boring. Like yes you have insane and bigoted things said, but it’s nothing new. It’s just the same thing over and over again. Like give me some new content with your dumbassery.

If you’re gonna be a pain in my ass and get yourself blocked at least make it for something I haven’t seen before. But nope, it’s always “Tommy’s a predator, he’s totally gonna abuse Buck. I can feel it”, “I can’t believe he’s calling him evan, that’s practically dead naming him”, “I want *insert character here* to hurt or murder Tommy”. Like seriously get some new catch phrases or content. You’re bland and boring.

You hear that?? You're getting boring!! Get some new material!! I know bucktommy will have tons of new material when season 8 starts!!

[just-call-mefr1es]

i love it here

[johnslittlespoon]

all the actor/celebrity au posts lately combined with troye bringing ross on stage last night for one of your girls has got me thinking...

a musician x musician au where gale is a troye sivan–esque ultra–famous queer pop star, and john's the singer of a well known indie rock band, and he gets asked by gale's team to star in a music video similar to one of your girls...

to everyone who doesn't know him personally, gale feels like this untouchable pop star. he's been in the industry for years, one of those classic 'i used to make music in my bedroom in my small town' stories, working his ass off before finally a song of his blows up and gets traction and then it's such a fast rise to stardom that he doesn't have time to wrap his head around it.

he never gets used to it, but he doesn't get an ego from it; he still hangs out with the same group of friends he's had since high school, and his team does most of his social media posting for him, because it freaks him out having all that attention, as grateful as he is. he's not shy by any means, not like he was when he started out, but he's not the biggest fan of all the fanfare and interviews and being put on a pedestal and all that. he keeps himself pretty distant online, and that coupled with the diva/superstar energy in his music/projects gives him this air of being on another level– a rare type of star all around.

john has a similar story, the whole growing up on the internet thing, making music in his basement in high school with the friends he's now in a pretty popular indie rock band with, working tirelessly to make a name for him and his friends. but that's kinda where their similarities end.

because john is known for being an absolute shit–poster, a little fiend online, a running joke in his fandom that 'john doesn't know that he's famous', 'should someone remind him this isn't a finsta?' type of vibe. he feels so accessible and down to earth, and while he's just as level headed and humble about his celebrity status as gale is, he displays it by being more present and trying to show the human side of it all, vs gale trying to create distance between gale cleven and the gale persona the world knows.

the band is first and foremost john's thing, but as he's grown in popularity, he's of course gotten offers for other avenues here and there, and at the insistence of his manager he decides to agree to try out a modelling shoot one day. he's not naive; he's more than aware of all the comments going on about his looks, stumbles across more tiktok thirst trap edits of him sweaty and shirtless on stage than he can count, isn't all too sfw in some of his band's songs, either.

he finds it all funny, but he also is someone who will always jump on new opportunities/experiences, and he ends up having a good time modelling, and picks up more gigs as time goes on. this is how gale becomes aware of him, somewhat because gale does occasional modelling too, but mostly because he's worked with a lot of big fashion names for tours and videos, so his and john's circles occasionally crossover, though they never actually meet in person.

so then comes this music video shoot, one that gale's been agonizing over for months, planning every little detail and making sure everything is perfect. it's something that drives his manager (marge? <3 gotta include the angel in every au obvs) insane because gale's got so much on his plate as is, but he likes to be so hands on with his projects, and she knows by now there's no talking him out of that. and everything is going great, until the person who's meant to be starring opposite gale has to pull out last minute due to a scheduling conflict or personal emergency or something.

and the usually very collected and put together gale is freaking out. it's the day before the shoot, everyone involved has already travelled to be on location, choreography is set in stone– this is his nightmare scenario, never doing well in situations where he has a lack of control. it's half of what scares him so much about being as famous as he is, is that he doesn't have a lot of autonomy or control over his own image or how he's perceived in the public eye (and digging deeper into backstory, probably stems from wanting to take back control after a childhood filled with being controlled by family.)

but it's situations like these where he's reminded why marge is his manager and he isn't, because she leaps into action the moment they find out about the cancellation, calming gale down so they can put their heads together to find a replacement. they reach out to a few of the names they have connections to, but it's too short notice for all of them, so maybe marge even just resorts to going through the people gale follows on instagram, and stumbles across john's page. he's got a good rep in industry and has worked on less 'conventional' projects before, so marge shuts down gale's fretting over "would he be comfortable with something like this?" by telling him there's only one way to find out, and contacting john's manager.

john agrees before he even hears the full pitch, and he's just as keen afterwards (albeit a bit nervous because by no means is he a professional dancer), knowing it'll be good publicity, and curious to explore a more artsy/out there gig, but also curious about the illusive gale, who he'd been surprised to receive a follow from a few weeks back.

john is flown out that night to the city of the shoot location, barely having a few minutes to change and head to the rehearsal space, where he meets a very frazzled but very thankful gale for the first time.

maybe they both have some preconceived notions about each other, despite having mutual respect and no actual interactions; john probably expects gale to be a bit stand–offish or conceited given his high celebrity status, but finds gale's actually bashful and quiet and easygoing when the cameras are off (when they're on, it's like he flips a switch, slipping into this persona, exuding confidence and sexuality and it honestly blows john's mind to witness in person).

gale probably expects to john to be loud and abrasive based off his well known social media posts, maybe even a little uncomfortable around gale, who is openly queer, whereas john isn't– maybe john hasn't ever stated his sexuality, has never given much thought to it, it doesn't matter much to him. instead he finds john's actually a little shy, much less bravado than he'd anticipated, but very enthusiastic and eager to learn and get the choreo and everything else right, assuring gale repeatedly that he's down to do whatever is needed.

so the two of them rehearse till the early hours of the morning, john taking it as seriously as though it's his own project he's invested months into, and gale gains such admiration for his commitment and willingness to stick his neck out for a borderline stranger (even though he's obviously aware this is a big boost for john's career). john gains a newfound appreciation for gale's work ethic and how much effort goes into every little thing for a huge artist like him.

and inevitably... there is sexual tension during the rehearsals. they're both overtired and sweaty and it's such a strange situation to meet for like five minutes and then jump right into dancing together so intimately, having to shed any inhibitions and self consciousness, but it's a blessing in the sense that they have to get comfortable around each other so quickly. there's no room for modesty or shyness, and john is genuinely speechless at how gale puts business first, and after double checking that john isn't uncomfortable, how he has no qualms about physically directing john, moving him how he wants him.

it's hot to john, the way gale knows exactly what he wants and is so passionate about his vision, and he'd be lying if he said the combination of being starstruck and being lowkey manhandled isn't getting to his head a bit. which is a whole other thing to unpack, because aside from vague acknowledgement of some men being attractive/beautiful, he's never actually found himself flustered by one like this, and it catches him off guard. he stays professional, but he still can't help but let his naturally flirtatious/joking personality slip out as the night drags on; he's like that with everyone he works with or hangs out with, and he thinks it would be weirder if he wasn't like that with gale, like everyone else would somehow notice.

meanwhile gale is fighting his own demons because he's got a very sought–after, very hot, very straight man dropping everything for him and letting him puppeteer him, on top of being so stubborn that even though gale can tell he's exhausted, john's refusing to call it a night until gale does, and THEN as if all that's not enough, john's effortlessly witty and complimentary and flirty. and gale's not one to mix business and pleasure, so he's not even entertaining these emotions, but he can't help but feel flattered by it all, while also reminding himself that john probably doesn't swing that way.

basically they both are discovering they have competence kinks lmao, like objectively they both find the other attractive, but it's not like they aren't constantly surrounded by beautiful humans in their lines of work, so it's more so the emotional side/work ethic that gets them both flustered, coupled with the inherent sexuality of dancing with very little clothing, hands on sweaty skin and toned muscles. but neither of them act on it, too tired by the time they call it a night even if they'd wanted to, and then it's back to their respective hotels to get a few hours of sleep before the shoot.

john isn't called to be on location until mid afternoon, and when he wakes up to his phone ringing and glances at the time, he freaks out, thinking he's slept through the shoot or something because he'd expected to be called early in the morning. he's told that he didn't sleep through it, but he's disoriented until he shows up, when he's told that gale had moved things around, filming as many scenes as he could without him before john was needed for his part, so that john could get more rest. (john swoons. just a little.)

he gets swept up in the capable hands of hair and makeup and wardrobe in his own trailer, and he doesn't see gale until it's time to film, and when he does, he almost doesn't believe it's gale. the glam makeup, the long blonde wig, the form–fitting sheer black dress and heels– gale's pretty as is, but with his features accentuated like that, john doesn't even know what to do with himself, feels like he's going through a midlife crisis at the ripe age of 25. he'd known gale would be in some sort of getup for their choreo, but nothing could've prepared him for this.

it makes it even more endearing that gale seems so awkward about it when he greets john, clearly out of his comfort zone in the ensemble, but john knows there's no way gale doesn't know how stunning he is, it's not a lack of confidence that's making him awkward. john keeps it together, reminds himself to be professional. tells gale it was really sweet that he let him sleep in, that he didn't have to do that, to which gale waves him off like it's no big deal. and he compliments gale too as they walk onto set, tells him, "you look great, wow," tame as he can be, and gale tells him "could say the same for you," and john snorts, gesturing to his simple jeans and boots and lack of shirt, says "feeling a bit underdressed, actually," and it gets a laugh out of gale.

when the cameras are rolling, any of that visible discomfort or awkwardness in gale disappears like someone's snapped their fingers and rid him of it, movements fluid like water, not an ounce of anything other than confidence and power and sensuality seeping through as he commands the camera with his energy. despite his aching body, john's grateful they ran the routine into the ground last night to the point that it's nearly muscle memory, because it's hard to concentrate when gale's looking down at him through long faux–lashes and gloss–plumped lips, caressing his jaw, playing with his hair, the sway of his hips and roll of his waist beneath john's hands so mesmerizing, john's half convinced he's being serenaded by a siren.

the tension would be insane, but equally confusing because neither of them would be able to discern what's an act and what's not, or if it's all just an act, pushing and pulling at an invisible line but never quite stepping over it even once the shoot wraps, both for the sake of professionalism but also for fear of rejection.

maybe after it all, john's on his flight back home and realizes in the whirlwind of everything, he never got gale's number (has a moment of 'why would i need it? this was just a gig' lol okay yearner). john's not even sure at that point what/how he's feeling about gale, the conflicting emotions of feeling attraction to him while in borderline drag doing nothing to help the confusion, especially because he can't excuse the attraction as just that when he was feeling things during rehearsal in casual clothes too.

he knows he could easily ask his manager to reach out to gale's manager for his number, but then he gets in his head convincing himself that if gale had wanted to talk further, surely he would've asked for john's number, since gale has way more reason to be selective with his own with his status.

he doesn't realize that on the other end of things, gale's realizing he also never got john's number, only he's talking himself out of reaching out because he doesn't want to read into john's friendliness as something flirtatious when as far as he knows, john is straight, and this was likely just a job for john, as well as they seemed to get along.

cue miscommunication when one of them actually works up the courage to dm the other on instagram since they're mutuals– either john dms gale something simple, a 'thanks again for the opportunity', and because gale is never on his socials and gale's team doesn't check messages much, it's weeks before anyone clocks john's message, during which john becomes sure he's nothing more than a coworker to gale, which he understands but is sad about. or, gale dms john, but from a private account with an innocuous username that he has just for friends and family, and john never even opens it because the lack of profile picture and generic user blends in with all the other message requests he gets a day.

they only end up reconnecting when the music video actually drops, because obviously it breaks the internet, and john happens to be doing promo interviews and radio shows at the time for his band's new album and tour, so an interviewer of course asks him what the experience was like working on a set like that and working with gale. john gives a glowing review, goes out of his way to praise gale– "the nicest guy you'll ever meet, and the craziest work ethic i've ever witnessed firsthand in hollywood."

when the interviewer asks if john would ever consider working with him again, y'know, the classic question an interviewer has to ask so they can drum up clicks with a 'john egan hints at possible future project with gale cleven!' title, john lays it on thick the way he always does with a wink at the camera and a "he can call me up anytime," but then adds a serious "no, really, i would love to work with him again, he was great."

predictably, the people who are already losing their shit over the music video and making edits and fan theories about the two of them go even crazier, spam–tagging gale and his team in the comments of this interview post, which leads to it eventually making its way to gale, and gale then realizes that john hasn't been uninterested; he must've just not seen his message since surely he would've replied if he had (marge looks at him with so much disappointment when gale mentions his attempt to reach out– "gale, no one with that kind of following is going through dm requests from faceless, private instagram pages, you of all people should know this").

gale hasn't told marge about his possible feelings, but marge isn't dumb; she didn't stand on set for nearly 24 hours with her eagle–eyes and not notice the way gale had been looking at john. to anyone else, it might've just seemed like he was leaning into his persona, but marge has known gale for a long time, and she could tell it wasn't all him playing it up for the cameras.

so marge puts her manager–brain and best friend–brain together and decides that with all the hype surrounding the new song and video, the two of them being seen together in public and making a few posts together would be a great boost for both of them. but she knows gale will never go for it if she voices this to him, because he'd see it as using john for popularity; she reasons that if he doesn't know, it can't be using. so she reaches out to john's manager and figures out when they'll both be back in the same city, and relays her plan as if it's just business, asking for john's manager to let john know that gale will be in town the next week if he wants to set something up, and she gives the manager gale's number for john to contact.

when gale wakes up one morning to a 'hi, this is john! my manager passed on your number to me, hope that's okay. i was told you're in town next week? :)' and then 'egan. btw. lots of johns out there.' and then 'the music video guy.' (john, absolutely panicking on his end, worrying that gale might not even remember his name, not knowing gale's been stalking his socials and confusion–pining just as much as john has been doing the same.)

and then more miscommunication after they arrange to hang out, because john assumes this is just for publicity based on what his manager told him, and he understands, as much as he wishes they're hanging out properly. but gale assumes this is a genuine hangout, because john never says otherwise, until the end of the evening, when gale has to leave for a dinner event and john says "we better take those pics for the 'gram before we say goodbye, or the big guns'll have a fit."

and either gale masks his surprise and then disappointment and goes along with it, thinking maybe he missed a memo or misread things, and this conflict and miscommunication is dragged out even longer, or gale doesn't hide his confusion in time, and john is then equally confused, says "your manager didn't...?" and gale says "sorry, i didn't know; i guess i misread your texts," feeling stupid that he's been thinking the hangout is anything other than a pr stunt. and then there's the awkward "no! no– well, yeah, i was told that this was to promote the video, so i thought– i mean, i would've liked to hang anyway, i just didn't think you wanted to?" from john.

gale is slowly connecting the dots in his head and he's so embarrassed, but also relieved that he hasn't misread things and made a fool of himself. john looks on the verge jumping out of his skin as gale sits quietly, so gale puts him out of his misery, smiles and pushes his irritation about the incident down and says "i do want to, john. i think marge– it doesn't matter. it was a miscommunication, i guess." and all the tension evaporates out of john's body, and he lets out a laugh, and a "oh, thank god. fuck. i was about to walk into the street," and gale lets himself relax too, scoffing at john.

so they decide to have a redo the next week, since they both do feel obligated to take their stupid pictures now to please their teams (and the internet), and thus a tentative friendship is born, the two of them dancing around each other and around feelings because everything is confusing as is, let alone with the way their careers affect every aspect of their lives. so much slowburn, lots of john trying to figure his attraction out and gale keeping his walls up because the thought of literally becoming the person he's singing about in his music video is laughable, he doesn't wanna be strung around or used as an experiment for john.

and john respects this unspoken boundary and also appreciates that they can get to know each other as friends while he tries to stop freaking out every time he pictures him and gale doing less than platonic things. probably a whole lot of chaos on john's end with the absolute tornado that he is, ie: '4am 'am i gay' quizzes taken in the dark of his bunk on a tour bus, asking an openly queer friend from his band if his feelings toward gale are normal, rumours started by a fan that they saw john in a gay club after a show, etc.

because john doesn't do anything halfway– he's ready to literally go out and kiss men and explore his newfound feelings, not just to prove himself to gale, but to figure himself out, because he's terrified of hurting gale since john doesn't have the best track record with relationships. overthinks the shit out of everything and doesn't realize it's not that deep, that liking gale doesn't mean he's suddenly attracted to all men, that all gale wants is for john to be confident in himself and his feelings for him before pursuing anything.

there's a lot of back and forth and messiness and emotions stacked on top of their already crazy hectic schedules and lives, the theorizing and prying from fans and paparazzi, caution from management, but when they eventually have their point of no return moment and cross that line from friends to more, the chemistry is so intense that both of them feel stupid for dragging things out for so long.

when the initial new relationship shyness wears off, the sex is also insane, all the exploration and playfulness (and inevitability of the whole feminization thing coming back into play since that's what starts everything in the first place lol). they're barely able to keep their hands off each other, almost always spending the night at each other's places, stealing as much time as they can to make up for the time apart when there are tours or other events separating them.

they try to keep things private for a while, but with how active john is online, he slips up a good few times– tiktoks where a hat or something of gale's is accidentally left in the background, story posts where john's wearing one of gale's hoodies unthinkingly, mirror selfies where there's a mystery hand or leg in the background. the internet is torn, some convinced it's coincidence, some certain it's all a pr stunt to get people talking, some adamant that they're in a secret relationship. gale's never upset about it; they both just know how much things will change if they go public.

months are spent sneaking around, rarely going on public dates, the odd paparazzi shots still leaking out until it finally gets to the point that there's no point hiding things anymore, it's obvious that they're not just friends. they never actually announce it or make some relationship launch post; they just stop caring, and it's freeing and neither of them expect to be so affected by being able to publicly show affection for each other, but it's such a sweet thing and makes things feel so much more real.

john goes to gale's sold out arena shows and stares up at him in awe and can't believe that gale chooses him every day, and gale goes to john's band's high energy festival sets and watches his golden boy light up with joy every time he glances at him side stage and can't believe john chooses him too.

:-)

lol this post was meant to just be the two lines above the cut but then i got to thinking about origin stories and whoops new au drabble because i'm a master at getting carried away!!

[wellgoslowly]

Lockwood and Co. How do I begin to talk about this insane universe that has literally changed my life in so many ways in such a small amount of time?

I think it was probably January 27th that I actually got the notification for the trailer for the show from Netflix’s Youtube. I don’t know exactly what it was that made me interested in the trailer in the first place and set it apart from the hundreds of trailers that netflix has posted that I’ve ignored, but there was just something about it that made me think “oh, this looks interesting, let me take a look at the trailer.” Thank god I did.

If I were to go back in time to that version of linnie and tell them that their life was about to be changed, I think they would’ve laughed. At that period of time I’d had a 2 year long hyperfixation on the grishaverse and I couldn’t think of anything that would’ve possibly broken me out of that long ass period of chaos. And then I watched Lockwood and Co and I immediately fell in love with an entirely new world.

Lockwood and co means so much to me for so many reasons. One of them is that I’ve never seen myself more reflected in a character than I see myself in Lucy Carlyle- hence the name Linnie. I didn’t even realize it until Aaron ( @queer-and-nerdy ) pointed it out (after I pointed out how much of a George kinnie they are) and then everything made sense in a way? Like Lucy Carlyle is the truest form of a comfort character for me because we are basically the same person and I never realized how special a character could be until I met Lucy Joan Carlyle.

Another reason why I love this universe so much is because I love found family, and I love the found family that Jonathan Stroud has written. The Iron Trio will always be so special to me because of how often it is shown and how deeply it is known that they love each other unconditionally, Even George and Lucy, who have their differences when they first meet, grow to love each other in their own way and I genuinely believe that the family found within the Iron Trio is one of the most beautiful relationships I’ve ever read or seen portrayed on screen.

I also just truly love the worldbuilding. The world that Jonathan Stroud has created has such an amazing homely feel to it that I will never tire of. I love literally everything about it- the lore, the execution, the way that he was able to make ghosts even more terrifying for such a young audience.

Lastly, I love the fandom. I’ve talked a little bit about how much a kind and welcoming fan space like the l&co tumblr means to me and how I have had rocky situations in a fandom in the past, but I truly cannot even begin to talk about how much this online space has truly changed me in so many ways. I feel like I can have open, honest, and constructive opinions on here without being scared to speak my mind or fear the repercussions of not being 100% happy all the time. This fandom is the most accepting and loving fandom I have ever known, and I’d like to tag a few of the people who have made this place so loving and enjoyable to partake in. Shout out to @ikeasupremacy @oblivious-idiot @losticaruss @youmanynotrestnow @neewtmas @thisgameissonintendo @readyafterthesunrise @waitingforthesunrise @yveni @uku-lelevillain @impossibleclair @donutcats @jesslockwood @kazbrekkerfast @krash-and-co @carlyleandco @biscuitrule @maraschinomerry @lockwood-lover @lvockwoods @givemea-dam-break @someonetooksendnoodles @nomolosk @thedonutdeliverygirl @neverendinglabyrinth @tangledinlove - I defo missed a lot of people but these are just the few that I could remember right off the top of my head <33

All in all, I love this show and these books and this world more than I could ever possibly express. Happy 10th Birthday to The Screaming Staircase, and a very Happy Lockwood & Co Day to all whom I have the honor of celebrating with. I love you all very dearly, and remember: “just reckless enough”.

xoxo,

linnie <3

[neylo]

Becoming Marshal of France - Part one: The annoying but necessary shit

@cadmusfly is a bad influence and a terrible temptation. I want you to know that you have succeeded.

Since I was a kid, I loved the feathered hats, the colourful shiny uniforms and the overall vibe of the 18th and the beginning of the 19th century. Apparently, it wasn't a phase.

I am a cosplayer and I love myself a good challenge. And now here it is. I am to make the ultimate entry for the Napoleonic fandom of Tumblr and make my own marshal uniform. I cordially invite you all to join my journey and perhaps, get inspired!

Let's start with the tunic.

Disclaimer: Reenactors, chill, I am not a millionaire - I can't, unfortunately, afford the expensive replicas of the buttons etc. I do not intend to participate in any kind of reenactment activity, and therefore I can't promise 100% historical accuracy. I would love to. But right now I can't.

Note: I use the metric system. It is nice, it is logical, and you should implement that too, Americans!

Before you start:

Step one: find the appropriate fabrics. Are you looking for dark blue? Great start. Now, it's time for some research. Napoleon's Marshals book by Osprey Publishing has done a great job describing the details. You can basically choose your own preferred material: Silk, velvet or linen. Congrats! For a whole-ass marshal tunic, you will need 2-3 metres of fabric depending on your size.

You will also need lining. I recommend linen lining and viscose lining for the sleeves.

Step two: Assess your insanity. There are multiple uniform patterns, each for a different occasion (source):

If you have three years of free time and unlimited supplies of goldwork threads, you can do the grande tenue - the first picture. I would advise you not to. But if you want, there is actually an extant one you can draw your inspiration from. It belonged to Ney. If you are going for this, you will indeed be the bravest of the brave.

Petite tenue is more subtle with less embroidery. Still, difficult as hell.

Tenue de campagne is the one I am going for. I don't like commitments. You will only need to embroider the collar and the cuffs + some stuff on the back. That is doable. That is what I am doing.

Step three: The pattern. The thing is, the patterns of the era were almost the same. I simply butchered my civilian coat pattern and changed it for a single-breasted one with a standing collar. Do you want help? I will share the pattern with you.

This is how my thing looks at the moment.

Step four: Embroidery. What is this shiny thing on the Marshals' uniforms? This is a kind of embroidery called "goldwork" and you need special metallic threads for it. They are not exactly easy to find, but Etsy is your friend. There are multiple US shops, and there is also EmbroideryMaterial shipping worldwide from India. They have a great selection and very agreeable prices.

For the Marshal tunic you shall need two kinds of threads:

The French wire (lol, it is really called like that!)

The Japanese thread (a thread wrapped in a thin gold plate)

You will also need small gold sequins.

I will show you the embroidery progress when my threads arrive. Before that happens, we need to design the embroidery. No worries, someone did it for you. That someone was actually me:

That's it for today.

Stay tuned for more posts.

[mushyposts]

dude going from a fandom that wrote purely empty work for the sake of a trope to a fandom like ATLA/JJK that sees tropes as a vessel to write the most jaw dropping, life changing/ruining works is fucking INSANE. Like. wdym I went from a fandom where a florists/tattoo artists trope just existed for the sake of "scary/small" to a fandom where that trope is used to detail the complexities of generation trauma, disability, stereotyping and redemption>???? This is insane u guys r insane. JJK im new here and already the fics have singlehandedly kicked my ass. ATLA i am SO not new here but u amaze me every single time. I think JJK and ATLA fic writers should be best friends because god bless you're both CRAZY TALENTED!!!!

[amonggtheestarss]

Hey Gang

This is gonna be a more unique post than what I usually do but uhm...

See this guy? Black from Rodamrix. I'm gonna talk about them, because they're such a decently portrayed character in my own personal opinion and I believe they deserve more attention than what the fandom gives them (which is like... none.)

With the power of having autism and unnecessarily psycho-analyzing the jellybeans, I see Black as a pretty well assertive character. They're VERY expressive, loud, and is often strongly opinionated on things. If they have something to say, they'll say it. If they want something, they'll do what they can to get it. A decent majority of scenes of Black is them with the >0 expression and I love that aboutthem.

And as I rewatched Rodamrix for like the 2000th time, I noticed one thing.

Remember when I said they were very strongly opinionated on things? This is the one and ONLY time (as of now) Black has ever hesitated to make a decision, which is between voting Yellow or Green out. And when I watched this scene a dozen times, it always confused me because this was so incredibly out of character for Black. Black has been siding with Green this whole time, but suddenly hesitates when forced to decide between Green or Yellow. But why?

Not sure if anyone truly took much notice to this scene, because I for sure didn't. I stupidly saw it as just a "Glitch.Y is trying his best but his best isn't good enough for the crewmates," and I had assumed Black would of shrugged it off as "Man this kid is insane as hell whatever" BUT I DID NOT NOTICE they actually turned around to see the box Glitch.Y was pointing at.

Glitch.Y saved Black's life and they acknowledged it. Their ass got saved by a literal child he saw as a freak. And this is the first time we see them with a face of Genuine Worry.

YOU NEVER SEE THEM WITH THIS SORT OF GENUINE EXPRESSION AGAIN. UNLESS I'M JUST REALLY BLIND. BUT THIS IS THE FIRST TIME BLACK EXPRESSES GENUINE WORRY AND IT'S FOR GLITCH.Y. They've sided with Green this whole time but then has realised that just this once, Green was wrong about something, which was Glitch.Y trying to kill them all. And Black Worried. For once they hesitated, and couldn't bring themself to make such a decision.

And that's just one thing about Black. Small detail, really. They had a moment of hesitation for the first time. Oh well. BUT THAT'S NOT ALL.

Green, who is the Skeld Leader goes missing, right? That was their LEADER. They are now without a leader. And who is the first to take initiative and act as next leader?

BLACK DOES.

Yellow tries to take the initiative first, but is torn when Dr White assumes Glitch.Y and Green already dead, so Black immediately takes the lead instead. Black becomes the new, temporary leader for the team when they go to look for Glitch.Y and Green.

They even stand at the front of the team, willing to go forth before them all which would put themself at the most risk. And this isn't arrogance either, they do it GENUINELY. They even waited for Yellow's word before they start walking. They even gave each other the nod to proceed.

And they do a pretty decent job at leading too. They take after Green pretty well, in my opinion.

Altogether, I just feel like Black is a well fleshed out character, especially for someone who's sidelined for the entirety of the series. Everyone talks about Tan, a lot talk about Lime, which both deserve the attention they get of course, but I feel like Black is the most fleshed out side-character in the entire series.

I appreciate how much effort Rodamrix puts into Black's personality. I do hope Cyan gets a bit of a character arc too though. I like to see Black as Cyan to be really close, especially since they share similar personality traits. I just hope the fandom comes to appreciate Black more for his character in the series.

Also, bonus Black Alternate content

(They were actually the last to die out of the Skeld team which I found interesting. Gives into the idea they could've potentially made it out alive had it not been a 2v1. The only reason they got stopped and killed was because Purple came in as they barely escaped Pink.)

(Fun fact, Black's role in the Skeld is actually guarding*, so it'd make sense they watched outside while the others worked to fix the dropship)

(I like how Green looks directly to Black here honestly, might be a part of why Black tends to take after them. Green gives them the their attention first KYEHEHE)

(bro looks like they're trying to intimidate Purple over actually trying to stop them BEHEHEHE)

(And here, they're the first one to say something upon seeing the France Squad (and Mini Yellow))

*From Rodamrix's Instagram, a reference of Black's role here

I hope you guys understand why I like Black as a character a lot now.

Black appreciation post done. Thanks for reading.

[joculatrixster]

"ill admit i dont watch sos nor raft streams but im calling out ppl who r calling scott specifically abusive and ive literally never seen anyone as vilinized as scott in fics i can think off the top of my head 3 fics ive seen where scott is the vilian and portrayed as jimmys abuser which is NOT true for anyone u mentioned." You can't say Scott is the only one villainized in the same breath as admitting you haven't seen content where other CCs get villainized by the audience.

Many of the *exact same people* who criticize Scott have also come out with posts talking about how uncomfortable Sausage makes them, some of them specifically citing his behavior toward Jimmy in SOS. Of course, I can't say that's true for everyone in fandom who criticizes Scott, but in my experience people critical of Scott are critical of others, too, regardless of their sexuality. Saying the criticism is fueled by homophobia doesn't track when the people criticizing Scott are also criticizing straight CCs/characters for very similar things.

Everyone has a different fandom experience based on what circles/fan archives/discussion boards they're on, and even on the same site people can have different experiences because of stuff like algorithms and who you're following. IIRC I have seen a fic where Grian, Jimmy, Joel and Lizzie were all siblings and Lizzie called out Grian and Joel for not being good brothers to Jimmy, while the only fic I've seen with Scott being "villainized" was a short ficlet where he did something small out of jealousy that didn't have any long term effects. I have actually gone *looking* for toxic FH fanfic and not found any. (I like complicated messy relationship story lines, so I feel like toxic FH in fic form would be fun to read.) Obviously this has not been your experience, but you seem to be treating your fandom experience as if it's the same for everyone else, which it's not.

its nnot just my experience when multiple multiple ppl have spoken out about how prominent it is specifically for scott again if its just a small issue id understand but the normalization is insane, ive seen a fic where scott turns jimmy into his pet doll and he needs to be saved from his clutches. ive read a gic where scott kills pearl and wants to destroy the entire world and has jimmy as his pet who he promised to keep as long as he stayed uner his thumb. ive read a fic where scott just leaves jimmy at the alter and pearl hunts him down and lashes out violently at him and we r meant to side w pearl for attacking him bc he didnt feel bad for poor jimmy. these were not obscure fics or small fics. u seem to assume an issue others r clearly pointing out theyve seen way more than others is only something some fridnge guy is complaining about instead of perhaps something UVE missed hm? uve seen 1 fic where joel and grian r kinda shitty to jimmy and get called out ive read multiple fics where scott breaks down jimmy as a person and needs to be saved from him, ive seen multiple posts calling irl scott smajor am abuser bc of one clip, ive seen pll say jimmy deadass is uncomfortable w FH and doesnt like scott which is just weird ass behavior. yes sausage gets flack i belive this but i haven't seen a shit ton of fics making sausage break jimmy soan mentally then get killed or punished in the end for being an irredeemable abuser. ive seen multiple of that for scott or just seeing scott in general in a veryyy negative light which is clearly due to an unfavorable interpretation of his character. which is fine, but name three fics where grian is intpreted that unfavorably w over 100 kueos. no seriously show me the fics where grian dies in the 3nd and its a thing everyone is happy about in the ficand they do not mourn him at all bc they hated him. go on!

its funny how ur orignal anon nitpicked my post and ur reply again nitpicks one part of a wider post as if the point i said was even what ur replyin to, im talking fandom space but even if i wasnt im talking life series fandom while i do mention oli thats just to ponnt out that One scott clip is not Just a scott thing, girl. vilinized in life series aka what i tagged, dont be stupid here its literally just making u look stupid 😭i used grian as an example bc hes someone who acts similar in the space i was criticizing and not sausage bc i am aware things may be different in a DIFFERENT context. ur majorlyyyy derialing and not rlly proving me wrong ur just proving that u dont rlly get what im saying which is fine but also all ur points r just...not disproving anything l. ur example is 1 grian and joel being criticized in one(1) fic(which is not what vilianized even means dude but hey ill give u this u did find one somewhat grian neg fic!) and 2 a guy not even in the fandom i tagged. girl...

[angels-heap]

I mentioned this in my post but what even happened to freemance in 2020?

Hoooo boy. To make a very long, very weird story as short as possible...

Prior to the Half Life: Alyx announcement and subsequent emergence of the Half Life VR But the AI is Self-Aware (HLVRAI) fandom in 2020, freemance was by far the dominant ship in the Half Life fandom. It seemed like most active fans at least passively shipped it, the vast majority of fanworks featured it in some capacity, and people who preferred other ships or didn't like freemance just... didn't like it. They didn't act like they needed a reason.

However, after the aforementioned events led to a huge surge of new Half Life fans, freehoun (Gordon/Barney) became much more popular, practically overnight, for some combination of the following reasons:

Lots of new Half Life fans were discovering the series via HLVRAI, where frenrey (Gordon/Benrey) was/is a popular ship. Some of these new HL fans essentially transposed their preferred frenrey dynamics into freehoun fanworks, often with very little knowledge of (or interest in) the HL games and the relevant lore.

Large fandom did what large fandoms do and gravitated towards shipping the two hottest white guys, regardless of context.

Old and new fans who enjoyed ships other than freemance became more active and creative when they were no longer in a minority.

And this was fine! A little annoying at times, but had it stopped there, we wouldn't still be talking about this. Alas, around mid-2020, a couple of kids (independently, as far as I can tell) wrote "callout posts" about freemance and its shippers in an effort to justify their personal tastes... and all hell broke loose. These posts, and the many, many posts that followed, relied heavily on the following argument:

Gordon has known Alyx since she was a small child (he hasn't) and may have even been a father/uncle/brother figure to her (he wasn't), which means pursuing 24-year-old Alyx romantically would make him a pedophile (it wouldn't) because he's been "grooming" her since she was a child (despite having been in stasis for approximately 83% of her life) and is obviously imagining her as a child every time they smooch (and they think we're the weirdos?). This means freemance shippers are also pedophiles because they condone this behavior (no), and also they are anti-feminist/homophobic/racist for shipping Alyx with a white man who's actually 47 years old (Gordon is canonically 27 in HL2) instead of shipping him with a man and her with a woman or not shipping her at all (despite the fact that Alyx is canonically attracted to Gordon).

If this sounds insane to you, it's because it is. This is an Olympics-worthy reach. They 100% pulled this whole theory out of their asses. But these posts picked up traction quickly, given that a large slice of the fandom had little to no knowledge of actual Half Life canon and really wanted a reason to dunk on freemance beyond "ew boring straight ship." It was like this awful game of fandom telephone, and the wildest part was that a lot of these kids (and yes, it was mostly kids) actually believed these accusations, despite having never seen or sought out any direct evidence of them.

For the following 6 months or so, freemance shippers faced relentless harassment -- death threats, doxxing threats, accusations of child sex crimes, etc. Here's the long post I was eventually forced to make about the situation, which includes several examples. Check out my ship discourse tag for more highlights if you want to go down the rabbit hole. Things settled down a bit after the original shit-stirrers left the fandom, but the harassment continued on and off for a couple of years and it still crops up every now and then.

It makes me so sad to remember all the cool people I met in early 2020 who ultimately left the fandom due to the harassment. The overall fandom vibe was so rancid that even people who didn't ship freemance just couldn't take it anymore. I've stuck around because Half Life is an enduring fixation for me (and out of spite), but the fandom lost a lot of amazing artists and writers and I hope they're all living their best lives out there.

I don't know how to end this post on a non-cheesy note so I'll just say it feels nice to finally refer to this whole thing (mostly) in the past tense and I am excited to see new folks joining the fandom who are unburdened by the Freemance wars. Live your dreams. :)