#so you all should know what it means when I say that he shouldn’t waste his time anymore

[joker-daughter]

That's the worst thing for me I think : even the hypothetical / in development projects sound like mistakes to me 😭 like it's THAT bad

I need to rant a little

I liked spider-man as a fun blockbuster movie when I was younger but I think the production and writers are not handling the character well. He portrayed him at the best of his abilities and overall, people liked what he did. From a creative pov, it's not stimulating. NEXT

Uncharted was fun to show off his movie star status but it's just so.. bland. Ruben has no vision as a director, CGI looks ass (no fault to the workers but just the state of CGI for Sony movies these days). Can't stand Mark. Dialogues are boring and the treasure hunter genre is so outdated. NEXT

I read some pages of the Winner here and there and it doesn't sound interesting, it's giving CW drama. The comparison to Challengers will be endless. NEXT

I think we moved past the need for Biopics. But that's my personal taste. NEXT

again

[junicult]

!! the bachelors after their first kiss with you

contains ; fluff! gn!(but written with fem in mind)farmer for most. implied male in alex’s. non canon setting (for most). unestablished relationships—pre dating. alcohol usage. smoking (cigarettess).

note ; i had a nice time in my imagination with this one

harvey.

he stares at you, stunned at how easily you were able to do the thing he’s been thinking about for weeks. how soft your lips felt, how comforting your hand on his chest was, and how genuinely intoxicated just one simple kiss from you was already making him feel.

he clears his throat, and almost like you just sucked every word out of him, all he could muster up was a mumbled, “thank you.” he thanked you. for kissing him.

you purse your lips, trying your darnedest not to laugh watching his face just drop, realizing the first thing he said to you after you kissed him for the first time was a thank you.

“oh no, it was my pleasure.” you tease, allowing a small giggle to slip. he sighs like his blood has run cold, too embarrassed to even respond. luckily for him, you’re just too perfect, and you cool his sting by leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. you pull back with a smile, hand cupped over the opposing one, “goodnight harvey. i’ll see you tomorrow. you can thank me for that one, then.”

sam.

he acted almost as quick as you did, the moment he saw your eyes fixate on his lips and lean in, he wasted no time to fill in the gap between you two.

“you kissed me.” he says, face washed in amusement and adrenaline. he remains a solid grip where his hands rest on your lower waist, clear he has no intent on letting you go anytime soon.

“i might’ve.” you murmur, flickering your gaze to and from his. if he didn’t know any better, he’d think—

“are you all shy now? did i make you nervous?” he angles his head to chase your nervously wandering eyes, mischievous grin and tease in his tone. his hand consciously cups the side of your neck, thumb pressing into your jaw to gently force your chin up and maintain eye contact.

you huff, shaking your head. “well, a little! we just kissed!” you try not to sound too whiny—though, the way his grin spreads almost makes you forget that plan.

“aha! i made you nervous! am i so handsome? am i such a good kisser?” he muses, snickering in triumph.

“sam,” you test, narrowing your eyes through your eyelashes.

“what? you dunno know the answer? wanna kiss again to find out?”

shane.

he didn’t actually think you’d lean in, much less keep it going for so long that he’d have to push against you a moment later to give him a second to breathe.

but you shake your head, misinterpreting it all so quickly. “i’m sorry—i’m so sorry, i shouldn’t have kissed you, i don’t know why i did that, i’m sorry—“

“whoa, i wasn’t pushin’ you away,” he immediately rouses, “i’m not mad that you kissed me.” and he snickers lowly, “more like pounced on me.”

“you’re not?” you hum breathlessly, straightening your pants and tucking pieces of your hair back. now your chest bubbles with a new kind of embarrassment. you nibble on your lower lip, attempting to ease your breaths. “i—i dunno why i did that. i don’t usually drink…much less makeout with people while i do.”

you slouch back down on the old, creaky dock next to him. he snorts, tilting his head, “‘m just too irresistible, huh?”

you shoot him a glower. “yeah,” you say like it’s sarcastic, but really, you’re well aware you aren’t drunk enough to start behaving irrationally. “i just didn’t mean to do that.”

“i don’t mind that you kissed me.” he shrugs.

you watch as he takes a swig from his beer can. his eyes focus on the overall still lake in front of you both. “you don’t?”

he almost wants to tease you for all your disbeliefs. he chooses to scoff out a laugh instead, shaking his head. “mm-mm.”

you turn to face the water, gently swinging your dangling legs over the edge. “hm,” you hum back, “maybe we should talk about that when we’re both sober.”

sebastian.

he’s borderline shocked at how easy it was for him to kiss you back—no hesitation after your fingers brushed the back of his hair to pull him in. he’s almost loopy, too, and he’s never been the type to swoon so hard from these kinds of affections. but he’s also learned a lot has changed since he first met you.

“you taste like cigarettes.” you murmur as you step back, licking your lower lip as if to repeat the taste. you turn towards the city lights, and for the first time he’s finding it nearly impossible to follow your gaze.

“i’m sorry,” he truthfully says, absentmindedly stepping down on the previously tossed cigarette butt at his shoe. “i’ve been trying to stop.”

“tastes like you, too. mixed in, i guess.” you note with a smile, “it’s not terrible though. but good, you should try and quit.”

he honestly doesn’t know how to take that—in his mind, he can’t imagine that tastes good, much less the combination any glorious. yet you turn to him again, stuffed hands unfolding from your pockets to reach across for his.

all you had to do was to give him a tiny tug, sliding your hands up his shoulders before he repositioned his own back to where they previously sat on your waist.

“let me bask it in while i can, though.”

alex.

you’ve almost never seen him with this soft, content look on his face. you’re half expecting him to burst into laughter, try to justify his actions with a teasing lilt and offer to pretend like it never happened.

but no. all he does is look at you, watching the way your eyes shift between each of his, evaluating. like he’s waiting for one of you to break.

you take the bait. “why’d you do that?” you murmur, quiet enough the wind almost picks it up.

he shrugs. “i dunno. it felt right.” he hums, and despite his uncertain words, he says it with sincerity. “was that the wrong choice?”

you think for a moment. for you, you surely thought about it for weeks. but the timing certainly didn’t feel appropriate. vulnerability changes a man like him most of all, and the last thing you’d want to do was take advantage of that. you absentmindedly swirl the grains of sand under your fingertips.

“no, i don’t think so.” you respond easily.

he nods. you’ve never seen him this quiet, but despite that, you’ve got an idea of what’s exactly going through his mind. when he turns away, you’re certain.

“you won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“of course not.”

elliott.

he had almost forgotten why he invited you over—just for inspiration on the last couple chapters of his novel, or did he honestly plan for it to go like this?

“so…what happens after they…kiss?” you coyly murmur, still held in his embrace so close you can smell the drop of pomegranate on his lips.

“well, i haven’t written that far just yet,” he pauses to take a breath, “i was hoping they’d finally confess their love.”

he’s so handsome this close, your head still reels and lips feel fuzzy as you struggle to bring back in your even breaths.

you nod, slow and computing. “yeah—no, that sounds good.”

your plump lips hold him in a trance, as do his, making it so hard to concentrate on his words all the while you feel you’re too fixated on them.

“so you believe they love each other? that they should finally tell the other?”

the kiss rendered you thoughtless—what can you expect from a romantic like him? however, the metaphor is not lost on you. and had he let you go at this point, it wouldn’t have been so easy for you to eagerly nod, “absolutely. two people in love should tell each other they’re in love.”

[rememberwren]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Third time’s the charm. Simon/fem!reader. Handjobs, edging, cumming untouched, thigh riding, femdom behavior, somewhat submissive!simon, literally tried to cure my depression with this (did not work)

-

“You said you usually go three times in a session. We should try one more time, shouldn’t we?” 

Ghost looks at you like you’ve grown an extra set of eyes. He shakes his head a little, his eyes hard and disbelieving when they meet your own. “Have I not embarrassed myself enough for you?”

“Not really—? I mean—fuck,” you fumble, running a hand down face. “That didn’t come out right. I just meant that I don’t feel like you have any reason to be embarrassed.” 

He stares at you, through you, like if he looks long and hard enough he’ll be able to see your truth straight down to your bones. Well let him look. He hadn’t exactly bared his soul during the few weeks you had spent discussing this before meeting in person, but he had told you plenty: his issue had cost him relationships. It had cost him jobs thanks to lack of focus. Friendships thanks to neglect. You couldn’t imagine anyone willingly choosing something which gave them so much suffering. His lack of complicity cleared him of any blame in your eyes. 

At length, he must see that there is some honesty in you. Looking like it pains him, he nods his head, hulking shoulders deflating a little. “Fine. One more time. I’ll need a few minutes though.”

“That’s fine,” you offer, and it is, or at least it would be if it meant you both didn’t have to sit in complete silence, Ghost uneager to offer up conversation topics and you too awkward to try. 

He keeps staring at you, too. Or more specifically, your breasts. You’re wearing a simple t-shirt, but the effect is aided by one of your prettier bras. You had worn it unsure if Ghost was serious in his insistence that there would be no sex taking place between you both 

It seemed a pity for it to go to waste. 

“Do you want to see?” you ask him, fingers finding the hem of your shirt and gripping it tightly, folding it a little anxiously back and forth like an accordion’s bellows. 

“See? What? No—!”

“I don’t mind, honestly.”

Ghost reaches up a hand to rub at one eye like a headache is forming behind it. His mouth never abandons its signature frown, even as he says, “If you want? Jesus, fuck. I don’t know. I’m not going to stop you.”

You find that you do want. You kneel up, take the hem of your t-shirt into your hands and work it up over your breasts. For all his lack of enthusiasm, his eyes crack open straightaway and glue themselves to you, widening a little at the sight of your strappy, lace-laden bra. 

“I know you didn’t fucking wear that for me,” he says, sounding winded. 

“I’ll be honest, I thought this was just a ploy to hook up. I wore the matching panties too, do you—“

“Stop—talking,” he mutters, closing his eyes. His hand reaches down towards his (valiantly hardening) cock, but thinks twice, turns into a fist, and comes to rest at his side. “And under no circumstance should you take your pants off.”

“Got it. Pants stay on.”

Ghost sighs. “I’m ready. Let’s get it over with.”

That’s the spirit, you think to yourself dryly. You lift your hand to your mouth, creating a little cup with your palm and to spit in, your eyes locked on his own. You hear the click as he swallows, but it’s progress that he doesn’t cum, right? That must mean that he had experienced some level of desensitization, either to you as a partner or to the specific stimulus or a mixture of both. 

But that’s not how this is supposed to work. The whole point is to help him learn to last when he’s as desperate as possible, hoping that edging when he’s truly suffering will lead to a more satisfying orgasm and therefore a need for fewer of them. 

You lower your hand instead of spitting and grip the hem of your shirt, tugging it off over your head altogether. Ghost can’t seem to find his tongue, staring at you with dark, huge eyes as you reach around back and fumble with the clasp of your bra, but at last that comes undone, and you peel it away from you, letting it join his jeans and your shirt on the floor. 

His eyes rake over your naked breasts, mouth forming a curse that he lacks the breath to whisper. His cock is so hard and heavy that it lays against his belly, thick and twitching. 

You shift and straddle his thighs just proximal to his knees. He fists the bedsheets, abs tensing sharply as he watches you with silent awe and trepidation. 

“What are you doing?” He whispers. 

“Getting comfortable?” you suggest. 

Now you cup your hand and spit into it. Then you offer it to him, holding out your hand expectantly. Looking wary, he leans up onto his elbows, ducks his head, and spits into your hand too, quite delicately for being a giant of a man. 

You take your hand and place it palm down against where his cock lays on his belly, slicking the underside from top to bottom. Ghost groans, a low sound torn deep from his chest. He collapses off of his elbows and onto his back, hands finding his eyes and palming at them again while you slick his cock all over with a delicate touch, barely more than a tickle. 

“Are you teasin’ me?” he grits out. 

“I would never.” The tips of your wet fingers trail down over his balls, tight and drawn up against his body already. He hisses through his teeth, cock flexing. You fight a grin. 

Taking him firmly in your hand, you give him a series of smooth, slow strokes, your hand loose and gentle where it is cupped around him. His body writhes against the sheets. 

“Stop, please stop,” he gasps, and you do, letting his cock fall to rest against his belly with a soft thud. He opens his eyes, takes one look at your tits, and squeezes them shut again. ”Fuck, can’t believe you took your shirt off.” 

“I can put it back on if you want.” 

“Really don’t want that. Really fucking don’t. Just—sit there. Please,” he tacks on to the end like an afterthought. You’re grateful to have received a please at all. He takes deep, slow breaths, his nostrils flaring as he strains for air. 

When he gives you a curt nod, eyes still firmly closed, you reach down and use one hand to grip the base of his cock. The other you place toward the head so that you can softly drag your thumb over the deep red tip, tracing the sensitive ridge and over the leaking slit. He whines, honest to god whines, a sound which you feel viscerally in your belly and lower. You shift on his thighs, wondering if it would be so bad to just straddle one, to get some pressure right where you need it most. It’s not like there’s any sort of propriety in a situation like this. He’s getting his, why can’t you get yours? 

You use your thumb to trace a vein up the length of his shaft and smooth the slick over his tip, polishing it softly. 

“Fucking—! Stop! Stop!” 

You stop, and you swallow an unhappy sound. Things had just been getting fun—for you, at least. Ghost looks like he’s being put through the wringer, redness creeping down his neck to disappear under his shirt, knuckles white where he grips the sheets, breaths rapid and shallow. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. He laughs a little, a self-deprecating, unhappy sound. “You’re too good at that.” 

“Good with my mouth too,” you say on a whim. 

His eyes flash open, wide and surprised (and narrowed in on your mouth), his lips parted in a look of near comical astonishment. His hand scrambles to grip around the base of his cock, squeezing painfully. “You—you’re enjoying this aren’t you?” 

“Way more than I thought I would,” you admit. “An obscene amount, honestly—I’m so wet—“

Ghost releases his death grip around his balls and strokes his cock, once, twice, thrice, quick little strokes as his face crumples, as he gives up on the whole fucking thing. You can see it in his face, the defeat, the submission. He’s going to jerk himself off to a quick, unsatisfying release—but it doesn’t seem fair. 

“Stop,” you hiss, reaching out to grip his wrist. He lets go of himself like he’s been burned, immediately obedient even as his face twists with fury. He pulls away from your touch but watches as you shift until just one of his thick thighs is between your own. 

You give a soft, gentle sway of your hips against him. His face is so fucking expressive, his eyes and brows and mouth telegraphing his every little thought and feeling. He watches you with something like tortured awe, eyes flickering towards where your clothed pussy rubs against his bare thigh. 

“Don’t touch yourself,” you breathe, pleasure zipping up your spine at the friction against your cunt. “I want to see if you can cum like this.”

“Came went you spat in your fucking hand,” he breathes, abs tensing, cock twitching as precum pools in his happy trail, watching as you get yourself off against his thigh. “Can cum like this no fucking problem.” 

“You’re not as sensitive now,” you pant, planting a hand against his tensed chest to gain the leverage you need to lengthen the rolling of your hips. 

“Am too.”

“We’ll see.”

His face twists. “Will you—keep going? Even if I do?”

You consider for a moment and then shake your head, breaths too shallow to make words properly. You feel saturated, swollen and sensitive. Every drag of your hips sends muted pleasure up your spine. Normally this would take you ages to cum, but you haven’t been this worked up in a long time. Watching Ghost’s cock turn shades of red and plum is like live pornography, obscene and arousing. Feeling a little cruel, you tell him: “Gotta hold it.”

He tenses his thighs, heels digging into the bed. It does something to the muscle pressed against your cunt and makes your nails dig into his chest. 

He’s shaking his head. “No. Negative. Can’t.”

“Hafta.” 

“Can’t—fuck, I—“

“Goddamnit Ghost,” you whine, hips working feverishly against him. “Hold it and let me cum.”

He really can’t—really and truly. His cock spurts against his belly, a pitiful amount of pearly cum as he groans low and long, moan forming half-hearted, breathy apologies: sorry, ‘m sorry, couldn’t hold it—

You groan, a sound more frustrated than aroused. Your hips slow and stop, and your mouth fights to make a pout. You will it away. It really isn’t his fault. 

“You…you don’t have to stop,” he says, a little shyly. 

You shift off of him and swallow your own sigh, feeling sticky and unsatisfied. “It’s okay,” you reassure him. “Maybe next time I’ll get my pants off.” 

His cock, spent, still twitches against his belly. 

[lemonlover1110]

𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 1] The Grand Proposal

Story Masterlist

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Summary: Toji has been stressing about this for the past week. He needs it to be perfect. He wants to tell his grandchildren about how grandpa was romantic and thoughtful once upon a time- He wants to set the standard high for them. Grandpa loves grandma like no other.

Chapter Warnings: Fluff

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Does my tie look okay?” Toji feels ridiculous asking the question to his four-year-old but today is a very special occasion. It’s one of the most important days in Toji’s life, and he can trust that his son will tell him the truth.

“You’re too tall.” Megumi can’t reach all the way up to the tie, so Toji picks the little guy up and puts him on the bed. Megumi gets his grubby little hands on the tie and fixes it. He crooks his father’s tie, even though it was perfectly fine before– In Megumi’s eyes it looks perfect, which is what matters. Toji’s too nervous to even notice it, blindly accepting the judgment from Megumi.

“I think I’m ready.” Toji says, until Megumi’s hand rubs against the stubble on his face. Toji sighs, feeling pathetic for the way he acts tonight. “Okay, I have to shave.”

“Yeah, you don’t want her to say no.” Megumi responds, sitting down on the bed as his father walks away.

Toji is taking deep breaths, trying his best to calm down. He’s nervous, a feeling that rarely comes to Toji but when it does, it’s bad; it consumes him as a whole. He’s proposing to you tonight. After a year of dating, Toji decided that it’s time. 

A year is not a long time by any means, but Toji just knows that you’re the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. It’s undeniable, after all, it’s destiny. He just knows that you’re the woman he’s supposed to be with, and he doesn’t want to waste another minute.

Maybe it’s too soon, and he should hold off on the question. You’ve barely talked about marriage anyway, you’ve just talked about the fact that you do want to get married eventually. He can’t back down now, he already spent money on the proposal so he’ll try at the very least. 

His hands are shaky as he puts the shaving cream on his face… He’s done this before, why does he feel so nervous? Granted, last time he proposed to a woman it was a spur of the moment decision, not a very detailed plan. He didn’t have time to think about it and back down like he does now.

“Am I coming with you?” Megumi barges into the bathroom, and Toji nearly cuts himself, startled by the little one.

“You’re staying with a friend.” Toji answers, and Megumi pouts. He wants to be included, not stay behind and hear about the spectacular night you and his father had. Why can’t he be included?

“I’m more fun than you.” Megumi says, and Toji laughs. There’s no doubt in Toji’s mind, but this doesn’t require Megumi and his way of providing entertainment. “I’m not going to bother you.”

“You still have to stay behind, Megumi.” Toji responds, and the child pouts. Megumi stomps away, and Toji rolls his eyes. What a dramatic child. “You’re going to have fun! Don’t throw a tantrum.”

Megumi somewhat helps Toji calm down his nerves. At least he gets a laugh out of the child’s attitude. Toji swears the child doesn’t get the attitude from him.

“Are you ready to go, Megumi?” Toji yells as he pats his face dry. He shouldn’t be asking the question when he’s not even close to being ready, but it’s easier to focus on someone else when you’re in Toji’s shoes. There’s no response which can only be one thing: Megumi’s too mad at Toji to care.

Toji walks out of the bathroom to get the rest of his shit together. He’s running behind, he promised he’d be at your door at seven but he’s going to be at least ten minutes late. He feels like he’s lost his head– Oh, he’s praying you accept because there’s no way he can propose again. He absolutely hates this feeling, he has no idea where to go and which step he should take next.

“I promise I’ll behave.” Megumi is following behind Toji, trying to convince his father to let him go. He just wants to be a part of this very special night, not be left behind with some loser. Toji ignores the child that follows behind like a lost puppy. 

“Where’s my cologne?” Toji mutters, running around trying to find it. He’s lost his head. It’s not where it usually is which leads him to believe that the little bug that keeps pestering him is hiding items. He could go without it, but you often mention how he smells so good that you could just eat him. He’s trying to get everything in his favor tonight, so he can’t go off without the cologne. “Where did you put it, Megumi?”

“I don’t have it.” He claims, but one swift look at the child tells Toji all he needs to know. Toji begins to walk to the child’s bedroom, and the moment he steps into the room he notices a plushie that’s out of place. He moves it to the side to find his cologne and as well as the ring box.

“Megumi, what did I tell you about lying?” Toji sternly speaks, looking at the child that’s less than half his size. Megumi looks at his feet in shame, not because he feels bad but because he’s been caught.

“To only do it when it helps you.” Megumi responds, barely audible for the man. Toji doesn’t care to discipline the child too much, he’s running out of time. He’ll deal with Megumi later.

“I have to get going.” Toji looks at his watch, realizing that he should be out the door by this time. But he can’t leave Megumi alone at home, and Megumi isn’t ready yet. “Megumi, if you aren’t ready within the next five minutes, I’m leaving you home alone.”

“Okay…” He hates the hint of attitude that’s in Megumi’s voice. The child couldn’t care less. He doesn’t take Toji seriously, and Toji can’t stand it. 

“You know what happens when a child your age is left home alone?” Instilling fear will surely work. Toji is fighting back a smirk when Megumi shakes his head. “A big ugly monster comes and takes them.”

“Uglier than you?” Megumi says, which makes Toji sigh. Perhaps he should be offended, but he’s used to Megumi’s mouthiness at this point. It’s just another night for Toji. 

“Yeah, uglier than me and meaner as well. Now get ready.” Toji responds, though his tactic is not working. Megumi is unbothered, and Toji can’t afford to waste another second. It’s fine, Megumi isn’t really doing much, so he’ll be fine in pajamas.

“We’re leaving.” Toji picks the child up and carries him to the car. Megumi is kicking his feet, trying to break free from his father’s grip– To no avail, Toji is much stronger than Megumi. “Any chance you had of coming with me perished.”

“What does that mean?” Megumi asks while kicking his feet in the air. “Let me get my toys!”

“No, you made your choice. You wanted to be a brat, and now you’re going to Gojo’s place in your pajamas, with no shoes and no toys.” Toji feels a twinge of empathy for the child but he’s too irritated to let Megumi go back inside. Toji is running late, and tonight he wants you to have no doubts about him. He’s the perfect man for you, he has to showcase that in every possible way.

“I’m gonna run away!” Megumi yells, though he can’t do much when Toji holds him. Toji rolls his eyes. He knows that the neighbors hear how his child yells from the top of his lungs, but they know Megumi is a tad bit overdramatic. 

“Right before your fifth birthday? Please do me the favor so I can sell your gift.” Toji responds which instantly calms Megumi down. That threat works like a charm, perhaps he should’ve led with that. “Gojo better tell me that you were an angel or else.”

“I’ll behave!” Megumi claims, needing his birthday gifts to be safe. 

That was all it took for Megumi to behave for the rest of the night.

Toji’s hands are sweaty as he knocks on your door. His heart is about to beat out of his chest… All for what, a marriage proposal? Toji, a man that’s conquered many hearts because of how charming (and manipulative) he can be when he sets his heart on something. This shouldn’t be hard, he shouldn’t be nervous.

“Toji!” You exclaim as you open the door, looking as beautiful as ever tonight. He’s about to crap himself, he can’t propose. Your hands meet behind his neck before bringing him down to peck his lips. Your nose goes to the crook of his neck, and just as he expected, you tell him, “You smell so good, I could eat you.”

“I’m not opposed to that.” Toji chuckles as you press a subtle kiss on his neck. He pulls you into his embrace, hands resting on the small of your back. “You’re looking stunning tonight.”

“When am I not?” You reply with a laugh. You close the door behind you, and intertwine your arm with his before walking out. “Where are you taking me tonight, big boy?”

“It’s a surprise.” He tells you, and you squint as you look at him. Something is up with him, Toji doesn’t do surprises. “You’re looking at me funny.”

“What’s up with you?” You question, and you swear you see his cheeks turn pink. But Toji? That’s unlikely, your eyes must be deceiving you. You look away, knowing there’s no possibility that your boyfriend is blushing.

“There’s nothing up with me. Jumping to conclusions already?” He tries to play it off, which gives it away. There’s something up with him, and you’re going to figure it out.

“How’s Megumi?” You ask him, and Toji can say a lot but he decides on sighing. That’s all he needs to say, you know that the little guy can be stubborn. “What did he do this time?”

“Wanted to join our date.” He chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh as well. You’d let the child join, you’re always happy to have Megumi with you… But Toji knows best. And you do appreciate not having to watch your mouth and being able to be as affectionate as you want to be with Toji.

“Poor little guy, you should’ve let him join.” You’re clearly joking, but Toji can’t help but roll his eyes. Megumi is such a cockblock that he should be studied by scientists, it should be impossible. Luckily he got rid of the child for the night. 

“Can’t thank Satoru enough for taking him off my hands tonight.” Toji says, and you’re fighting back on smiling as you think about what tonight has in store for you. It’s going to be fun, that’s what you can gather from this.

“I’ll thank Satoru if you make tonight worth it.” You wink at him, and he should make some sort of remark that’ll make you chuckle, but he feels as if his heart is about to beat out of his chest. He’s going to do it. He’s going to propose…

“Yeah…” He lets out an awkward laugh. You get to his car, and he opens the passenger door for you. You kiss his cheek, muttering a thank you before getting into his car. He takes a deep breath as he shuts the car door, muttering, “Tonight is going to be unforgettable.”

“Woah… This place is…” You’re sitting across from Toji, holding the menu in your hands and staring at the high prices. Toji has never taken you to a place this expensive before, and it makes you wonder what he has up his sleeve. “Nice.” 

“Yeah, I want tonight to be spec– Nice.” He corrects himself before he gives it away. And then it hits you. Perhaps you should’ve known the moment he took you to a place where there is valet parking, but what matters is that now you know.

You thought it was next month, but apparently it’s tonight since Toji is going above and beyond. Your second year anniversary with Toji. Many questions pop into your head as you try to figure out how you’ve forgotten this very special night… And how did Toji even remember?

“Happy anniversary.” You smile, trying to play it off. It totally hadn’t slipped your mind. Toji looks puzzled as if he’s trying to figure something out. Your mind lands on his gift. A non-existent gift that you very obviously do not carry with you. You decide to lie, “I do have a gift for you, but it’s back at my place.”

“Happy anniversary.” He’s forcing himself to smile. He forgot that? How did he forget it? He had it marked on his calendar but guesses with being in a rush about a proposal and whatnot made it slip his mind. “I do have a gift for you as well.”

“What is it?” Your interest is piqued, and you really don’t want to wait till later to find out. You’re not as patient as you claim to be.

“What’s your gift?” Toji responds, and you roll your eyes. You haven’t figured it out yet, therefore you can’t give him a response.

“Fine, leave me guessing.” There’s a hint of attitude in your tone, something that Toji doesn’t care enough to fix. He has bigger issues right now. “What can I order? I know you’re not made of money.”

“That’s kind of rude.” Toji points out, holding back on laughing. You aren’t wrong though, but tonight is special. He wouldn’t take you to a place he couldn’t afford. “I brought you here because I can afford it. Order the whole menu if you want.”

“Really?” You raise a brow his way, and Toji clicks his tongue. He puts his hands up defensively before saying,

“You got me. Don’t order the whole menu, I don’t have that kind of money.” He laughs, and you chuckle. 

“Thank you for bringing me here, dear. This is a very lovely place.” You reach over, and take his hands into yours. You feel just how sweaty his palms are, and you wonder why. It’s definitely not hot for him to be sweaty. “Toji, are you nervous?”

“Why would I– You know, I think we should celebrate.” Toji has to do it now, he might die if he waits till dessert. He’ll call over the waiter, and proceed with the plan that he had. He got the idea from some article on the internet, putting the ring in your drink and whatever follows. It’s not particularly romantic but for Toji it’s perfect. Toji’s charming, not romantic.

“Celebrate?” You question before remembering your anniversary. You feel bad for forgetting when he’s clearly put effort into tonight. You can fake it though. “Of course, let’s celebrate.”

Toji flags down the waiter, telling him to bring out champagne. Toji doesn’t drink, but tonight he'll make an exception. You also know he doesn’t drink, which makes you suspicious. Tonight is not an ordinary night.

“Two years already, huh? When are you proposing?” You tease him, and he nearly chokes on his own saliva. His eyes are wide and you feel the need to clarify. “I’m joking, babe. You don’t have to react like that.”

“React like what? I’m fine.” He says, and you’re having a hard time believing him. He’s nervous about something, it’s written all over his face. “You have to stop reading into things.”

“I’m not.” You respond, knowing that there’s something up with Toji. A man that’s usually stoic looks almost nervous. You won’t push him to give you an answer though, that surely won’t work with Toji.

“Finally.” Toji’s eyes glimmer at the sight of the glasses on the table. He takes a deep breath, preparing himself to speak. To give the small speech that he wrote down with Megumi’s crayon. A small speech that he lost because Megumi poured a glass of water on it– But it’s fine, he memorized it. 

“Cheers.” You grab the glass in front of you, and clink it with Toji’s. You furrow your brows, noticing that the liquid in Toji’s is shaking. He’s shaking. “Toji, are you okay? Are you cold?”

“They keep the place chilly.” He tries to laugh it off. He’s giving it away. Though he says it’s chilly, he’s sweating. But before you can question it, Toji chugs down his drink. There’s something wrong with him. He prompts you to drink as well, “It’s gonna get warm.”

“I’m not in a rush.” You look at him inquisitively. You love Toji, and you’ve gotten to know him pretty well. But you can’t know what’s going through his mind by merely looking at him. You grab your drink slowly, and bring the glass to your lips before taking a long sip of the champagne. Drinking from a glass has never been as awkward as it is now, feeling Toji’s eyes watching your every move.

“Toji, this is the last time I ask, what the fuck is up with you?” You ask, getting frustrated with him. He’s acting odd, and you wonder if you did something wrong. 

“Look at the bottom of the glass.” He instructs you and you frown, grabbing the glass and inspecting the bottom of it. There’s nothing. Perhaps it’s because there’s some liquid, but apart from bubbles you spot nothing. 

“What?” You question, and Toji loosens his tie. “Did you see something weird?”

“Is there nothing at the bottom?” Toji asks, and he almost loses his shit when you shake your head. His eyes are wider than you’ve ever seen, and suddenly the man stands up from his chair. He bites down his tongue before saying one simple word, “Bathroom.”

Before you can utter a word, Toji’s gone. What an odd man he is tonight.

Toji looks around the place, trying to find the dumb waiter that he tasked this with. The instructions are very clear, how could he mess that up? Toji’s eyes land on the waiter, and the poor man begins to tremble when he sees Toji’s terrifying glare. A predator has spotted its prey, and the prey is too slow to run away.

Toji grabs the waiter by his collar, dragging him from the kitchen to the back of the restaurant in a matter of seconds. Toji is pinning this twenty-something-year-old against the wall, making the poor man almost cry out to his mommy. Toji feels like he’s doing some shady business again.

“Where the fuck is that ring, boy? You know how much that cost me?! I’ll sell your intestines to make you pay.” Toji threatens; a threat that holds no weight, but sounds so natural as it rolls off Toji’s tongue. 

“I-I don’t know, s-sir. I promise I put it in.” The waiter stumbles over his words, absolutely terrified of Toji. It’s a scary scene, specifically with how ravenous Toji looks. Toji’s hungry for blood, and he’s staring at the perfect target. 

“Where the fuck is it? That damn ring cost me an arm and a leg.” Toji’s anger couldn’t be more clear than now. It’s absolutely terrifying for any bystander, and of course, the poor man that is pinned against the wall. 

“Whose?” The young man is closing his eyes, scared that these moments might be his last. The grip on the collar tightens, Toji getting angrier by the second.

“You want to joke around with me? Is this funny to you?” Toji spits out, and the poor boy frantically shakes his head. Toji finally let’s go, letting out an annoyed sigh. “Get me your fucking manager.”

“Yessir.” The young man responds, body nearly falling to the ground as he struggles to find balance. At least Toji let him go. He’s alive, and he should be grateful.

“That took you long enough.” You chuckle, watching as Toji sits across from you once again. You want to ask if the reason why he was acting weird was because of a stomach bug, but Toji looks mad. 

“Must’ve eaten something bad.” Toji mutters, as if upset. Though you understand having a stomach bug is not enjoyable, you don’t particularly understand why he looks mad. 

“Do we have to go? Our celebration can wait.” You reassure him, but Toji shakes his head. He sighs. 

“We have to celebrate our anniversary.” He responds, but you don’t want him to put his well being at risk to celebrate the date. Your celebration can wait until he gets better. Your hands reach over to grab his own, giving them a squeeze.

“I don’t want you to sit through a celebration while you’re feeling ill.” You watch him avert his gaze. You know he’s upset about this, and you think of how to make him feel better. You chuckle before confessing, “I forgot about our anniversary… I thought this was just going to be one of our usual dates but here you go, going above and beyond. So don’t feel bad if you want to cancel all of our plans, and call it a night. We can just go home, and I’ll make you tea to help your upset stomach.”

“I guess…” Toji is a fool. Putting a ring that expensive in a glass of champagne? For you? That man should’ve carved out your name on a mountain and asked you to marry him at the bare minimum. This place– The proposal and the restaurant is too trashy for what you deserve.

“I have to talk to the manager, will you give me a second?” Toji asks, and you furrow your brows. Was the incident in the bathroom that bad? You won’t question it. You don’t want to embarrass the man. 

Toji comes back within five minutes, extending his hand for you to take. Without a doubt, you take it and leave with him. You’ll go anywhere that Toji wants to take you.

“You know–” You begin before shoving a fry into your mouth. Toji decided to take you to eat fast food before going home. Though he’s supposed to be sick, you’re both eating fast food in his car. Luckily he’s parked outside of the place, so in case an emergency does come up, he can run inside. “I’m surprised you remembered our anniversary but I didn’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Toji questions, reaching over and taking one of your fries since he already ate all of his. He eats fast– One thing about Toji, he’ll make sure he doesn’t have to share. You glare at his hand, and almost slap it away.

“That I’m the one that’s usually great at remembering dates.” You answer, and Toji tries to recall today’s date. Tonight he just got extremely lucky… In that sense at least. He’s calling it quits on tonight’s plan. He’ll perfect the proposal over the coming weeks. “But you know what they say: a broken clock is right twice a day.”

“Did you just compare me to a broken block?” He’s slightly offended by the question, but the glimmer of mischief in your eyes makes him chuckle. As revenge, he reaches over and takes a couple more of your fries.

“Hey! Stop eating all of my food!” You scold him, and he fights back a smirk. He puts on a show of eating your food in front of you, showing off that he’s taken your fries and you can’t do anything about it. “You shouldn’t even be eating this with your stomach.”

“My stomach is fine.” He assures you, but you can’t take him seriously. Toji could be dying on a hospital bed, and he’d still reassure you that he’s completely fine. With how long it took him to come back from the bathroom, you doubt he’s okay.

“Are you sure? Because–”

“What do you think about getting married?” Toji cuts you off, not wanting to talk about an upset stomach or his shitting habits. You can’t help but giggle at the way he changes the conversation, especially from something so ridiculous to a serious matter.

“Why? Are you proposing?” You tease, and Toji rolls his eyes at your reaction. You chuckle before answering truthfully, “I’d love to get married to you someday. Anywhere, any time.”

“Good, because you’re stuck with me for life.” Toji tries to joke, but it sounds very serious. He’s joking but at the same time he isn't. Not that you mind being stuck with him for life.

“Hmm… How about we go to the courthouse tomorrow and get married?” You propose and Toji begins to choke on the fry that he stole from you. He quickly grabs the soda and drinks like a wild man, while hitting his chest. You’re worried for a millisecond before you burst out laughing.

Toji coughs up his fry while the sound of your laughter fills up the car. Your hand goes to his back, caressing it as he calms down.

“Glad– That my– Near death experience is funny to you.” He’s still coughing. When he calms down, he’s glaring at you. A glare that many find intimidating. But you find it amusing, knowing Toji isn’t going to do anything.

“Could you imagine? Death by fry? I can’t decide if that’s an amazing or a pathetic way to go.” You say, and Toji rolls his eyes again.

“Fine, let’s go to the courthouse tomorrow and get married.” Toji agrees. It definitely takes the weight of proposing off his shoulders. 

You shake your head. “I was joking.”

“Like hell you were. I know how you women are. You’re joking, but you’re actually dropping hints.” He does air quotes, and you glare at him. The difference between you glaring at him, and him glaring at you is that he actually feels a twinge of fear when you look at him badly. He begins to laugh, putting his hands up defensively, “I was just messing around.”

“Like hell you were, punk.” You sound so serious that it scares him. Before he can even defend himself, your hand goes to his bicep and you proceed to lightly pinch him. He cries in pain, and you let go before leaning over to kiss the same spot. 

You proceed to apologize in a high pitched voice, “Sowwy for hurting you, baby.”

“Okay, say it again but in a normal voice.” Toji replies, and you roll your eyes.

“I’m only apologizing with the baby voice. Take it or leave it.” You cross your arms, acting as if you have the upper hand in this situation.

“Leave it. I have enough with Megumi.” Toji responds, making you click your tongue.

“Are we picking up the little guy before going home?” You ask, and Toji hums in response. He almost forgot that his offspring is with your best friend for the night. 

“Yeah. He’ll kill me if we don’t.”

You hum along to the tune of one of your favorite songs as Toji drives back to Gojo’s place. You tried to joke around with Toji some more, but after the drive started, he stopped paying attention. He looks pensive, and you wonder if it’s the same thoughts that were affecting him earlier.

“Oh, look, it’s raining.” You point out as if Toji hadn’t turned on the windshield wipers. You just want Toji to say something, but he’s suddenly gone mute.

Toji’s thoughts are about Megumi. The little cockblocker is going to spoil his plan. Megumi has kept his mouth shut for a whole week after finding out the plan, Toji knows the little guy isn’t going to hold it for much longer. 

“Are you hot?” You ask as Toji lowers the air conditioning. He takes off his suit jacket at the red light, unable to contain the heat. It’s pretty cold out, but he’s acting a little odd tonight.

Before you know it, you’re outside of Satoru’s apartment complex. Your hand goes to the door handle, but before you open it, Toji speaks up, “Stay here. It’s raining.”

“I want to say hi to my little guy.” You say, but Toji shakes his head. He’ll refuse to let you out of the car.

“You’re sleeping over tonight anyway. I can’t protect both of you from the rain, and the last thing I need is you both being whiny babies because of a cold.” Toji responds, and you pout. Toji will let you figure out your own feelings while he goes to pick up Megumi. 

“Stupid Toji.” You mutter when the car door shuts. At least he’s doing this to keep you well, but you can’t help but think this has something to do with his weird behavior. You begin to mock him, “You’re sleeping over anyway. Dumbass.”

You begin to turn up the temperature, freezing with the air conditioning on. But you feel a twinge of remorse while you do it, knowing that he’s going to be hot when he gets to the car. You turn the air conditioning down again, opting to take his jacket instead. 

You put it on, and begin to feel his pockets. Maybe you’ll find some change… It’s not like Toji is going to notice a few coins missing. What’s his is yours, and what’s yours is yours. However the saying goes. A smirk comes to your lips when you feel something cold, “Bingo.”

“Huh?” Your expression quickly changes, your eyes becoming wide when you see that it’s not a coin. It’s something much more expensive. Something that answers everything. Why he took you to an expensive restaurant, why he was acting so weird, why he suddenly remembered your anniversary (though it hits you that it’s not the date, you assumed wrong).

You stare at it for what feels like forever. It looks like it’ll fit perfectly. You exit the car, not caring that it is drizzling out. You can withstand some water, what you can’t stand is sitting in the car alone with your own thoughts for another second. He’s coming out of the building, holding an umbrella over Megumi’s head. 

“What are you doing out?!” Toji yells when he sees you outside of the car, wearing his jacket. He frowns, until he sees you hold something up. He doesn’t have to squint to see what it is, and he begins to freak out immediately. “Snoopy! Why were you going through that?!”

“Megumi, get in the car.” Toji hands the umbrella to the child, a task that Megumi is happy to take over. Toji walks over to you, attempting to snatch the ring out of your hands.

“What is this?” You ask, and Toji refuses to answer, focusing on getting the ring from your hands but you begin to move around. You can’t help but giggle as you watch a very frustrated Toji try to take a ring from you. “You won’t get it back until you answer.”

“Then…” Toji restrains you, grabbing both of your wrists. It’s an awkward position, one arm over your head while you hold the other in front of you. “We won’t move.”

“So much for not getting me sick.” You mention, and you know that he fights back a smile. You look into his eyes, seeing the uncertainty that consumes them. Toji was hoping tonight he’d have the perfect proposal, and when he realized that everything was going south, he backed out. Your heart melts at the thought of your big intimidating boyfriend getting worried because of this. 

“Will you give it back?” He’s talking to you as if you were Megumi. 

“I do–” You begin. “I’ll hold that for the ceremony.”

“Huh?” Toji lets go of your wrists, and you proceed to place the ring in the palm of his hand. You kiss the tip of his nose before pressing your forehead against his. Toji laughs, relief washing over him. “I didn’t even ask the question.”

“What are you waiting for?” You ask, and Toji pulls away. 

He gets on one knee on the wet asphalt, holding the ring that nearly cost him his intestines, with the most genuine smile on his face. His eyes are brimming with love. He had a long sappy speech that he copied off the internet. Something overly romantic. Something disingenuous to his character.

“Will you marry me?” 

“Yes.” You nod excitedly, and Toji slips the ring on your finger before getting up from the ground and picking you up. He kisses you once. Then again. And again, and again. 

“Eugh!” You both hear that makes the kissing stop. Megumi is waiting for you two to finish to properly greet you– One thing you notice, the umbrella is gone.

Toji sighs. Great, everyone is going to be sick for at least a week.

At least he’s getting married soon.

[riality-check]

Steve, realistically, shouldn’t even be at this show. He doesn’t care about the band, he didn’t want to make the drive, and he had to bring Anna along because he couldn’t find a babysitter.

But he was going to suck it up to go with Dustin, who immediately bought tickets to see his favorite band when they went on sale. Who called Steve this morning to inform him, somehow both solemnly and frantically, that he had the worst food poisoning known to man, and, that until he stopped puking and shitting at the same time, he could not leave the bathroom.

Steve very much did not need to know that.

With Dustin went the rest of the Babysitters’ Club, all of them having eaten the same shady pizza and suffering the consequences. The only exception was Mike, lactose intolerant but cursed to take care of his idiot friends.

He texted Steve to ask if he had extra bleach. Steve dropped it outside the house because no way in hell was he entering that building.

Dustin assured him, amidst too much detail and shockingly disgusting background noise, that both tickets shouldn’t go to waste, and with no one able to babysit Anna, Steve should take advantage of both.

So, here he is. Standing in the first level - Dustin couldn’t get floor tickets, thank God - of a show for a metal band he has no intention of ever listening to and holding his four-year-old daughter, who has bright pink ear defenders looped around her neck in preparation for when it gets really, really loud.

“When are they starting?” she asks for the fourth time in as many minutes, with a sigh too big for her little body.

“In a few minutes,” Steve says, keeping an eye on the stage, where he watches the crew set up. Mad respect for them hustling so hard. He could never.

The seats are slowly filling up, and Steve feels a little sad for the first opener, a little sad that they don’t have a full house for their set.

A group of four guys takes the seats right next to Steve, with a pale, long-haired, big-eyed guy right next to him. He’s got tattoos on his arms and rings on all his fingers and a silver bar through his upper ear.

And he’s arguing emphatically with his friend next to him.

“I’m telling you, American Psycho is more recognizable!” he says, hands flying. Steve discreetly makes sure he and Anna aren’t within striking distance. “Not to mention cheaper!”

“A prop chainsaw,” his friend - a short white guy with shorter but equally wild hair - says, “can’t possibly be that hard to find by tomorrow.”

“We already have the axe!”

“I’m with Eddie,” the big white guy at the end of their group says. “I’m a sucker for American Psycho.”

“Okay, but I’m the guy who has to use the props,” the fourth friend, a Black guy with short braids who looks annoyed at this conversation, like they’ve had it before. “And I think I’d have more fun with the chainsaw.”

Eddie - the guy with long hair and heavy jewelry and hands with a mind of their own - rolls his eyes. It’s a full body movement, one that has him spinning to face Steve. When he does, his face cycles through a myriad of emotions too fast for Steve to really track.

“Hi, pretty boy,” he says. His eyes then dart down to Anna, who stares at him with her head cocked to the side. “Pretty dad. Dad. Pretty. Hi.”

“Eddie,” the short guy cautions.

“Yeah, sorry, anyway, can you be a tiebreaker for us?”

“Sure,” Steve says. Anna squirms, so he lets her out of his lap to stand, holding her hand all the while. “What do you need?”

“American Psycho or Texas Chainsaw Massacre?” the big guy asks.

“You gotta give him context.”

“No, I don’t, Jeff.”

The guy who said he’d be using the props - whatever that means - rolls his eyes and stops fighting.

“What’s American Psycho?” Anna asks, choosing the best time to pay attention to the conversation, like always.

“A movie you’re too young to see,” Steve says. “And the one I’m picking out of those two.”

“Oh, thank you,” Eddie says, using a tone that better fits Steve saving his drowning dog or something. He then turns to the rest of his friends and says, “I fucking told you!”

Anna gasps. “You’re not s’posed to say that!”

Jeff smothers a laugh behind his hands, while the other three guys stare at Anna, half confused, half admiring.

Eddie clears his throat, looking significantly abashed. "Sorry, Miss-"

"Anna," she says.

"Anna," Eddie finishes. Then he turns to Steve. "And you are?"

"Steve. No Mister for me though. I might be a dad, but I'm not that old."

"You are old, Daddy," Anna says.

Steve frowns down at her, where she stands at his feet. She's smiling, mischievous like she always is when she says something along these lines. "I'm not that old."

"Yeah you are! You're like, you're like, like, fifteen."

Jeff gives up on hiding his laughter.

"I'm older than fifteen," Steve says gently, trying not to laugh.

Anna’s jaw drops. “You are?”

“Thank God for that,” Eddie mutters, then shuts his jaw with an audible click.

Steve tried to come up with an answer for that, but someone comes on a mic and starts playing the drums, so he moves the defenders over Anna’s ears and pays attention to the show instead.

It's... fun, he guesses. Fun if he were into it, maybe. The first opener has a lot of energy, even if the music isn't melodic enough for Steve's taste. He finds himself tapping along to the steady beat, moving slightly in his seat to the music.

It's nice background noise. He'd put this on while he grades papers. It's steady enough to fill his head but doesn't have a whole lot of lyrics he could get distracted by and sing along to.

Eddie and his friends, meanwhile, are having the time of their lives. The short guy - Gareth, Steve thinks his name is - mimes the drum part of each song with startling accuracy. Archie jumps up and down, Jeff absolutely screams along, and Eddie-

Anna stares up at Eddie, eyes wide and jaw slacked as she watches him bang his head to the music.

Steve almost snaps a picture of it, this little moment, before the second song ends and Eddie snaps out of his zone.

He shakes the hair out of his face, then looks down at Anna, who's still staring at him. "What?"

She cocks her head to the side in a mirror of his. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"The," she pauses, then starts shaking her head really hard, side to side. Steve puts a hand on her shoulder before she slams into the chairs in the row in front of them.

Eddie laughs. "The headbanging?"

"Yeah," Anna says, nodding.

"It's a way I move to the music," Eddie explains.

"Like dancing?"

"Sort of," Eddie says. "It's easier. I look stupid when I dance."

"You're not s'posed to say that," Anna tells him solemnly. "Right, Daddy?"

Steve meets Eddie's eyes. Even with the lights down, they're big and pretty and reflective, and Steve is going to kick himself so hard if he chickens out before he can get his number.

"Right," he says, still looking at Eddie. "We're not supposed to call ourselves stupid."

"Sorry," Eddie whispers.

"Don't be."

Anna tugs on Steve's hand, then Eddie's. "Teach me."

"Anna," Steve cautions.

"Can you please teach me?" she corrects.

Eddie glances down at Anna, then back up at Steve. "If it's-"

"Go ahead," Steve says because Eddie has more than passed the vibe check at this point.

Eddie crouches down as a new song starts up, and while Steve can't hear what he's telling her, he sees her smile, bright as day.

By the last song of the first opener, Anna is headbanging along with Eddie, off-beat in the say little kids always are but more than making up for it with effort.

Steve gives into the impulse to take a picture.

When the first opener finishes, Steve picks Anna back up and takes her ear defenders off.

"Woah," she says. "Can I keep them-"

"Nope," Steve says. "They stay on when the music is on. You heard it fine, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but you-"

"I have my earplugs in," Steve says, pointing at them.

"So do I," Eddie says, and when he moves his hair back, sure enough, there are black earplugs nestled in his ears.

"You don't seem like the kind of guy to wear earplugs," Steve says.

"You don't seem like the kind of guy to come of a metal show," Eddie counters.

Anna climbs out of Steve's arms and onto his back, where she loops her arms around his shoulders and just hangs, like she does sometimes when she gets bored.

Weirdo kid, Steve thinks affectionately.

"That's because I'm not," Steve says. "I was supposed to come with a friend, but he got sick."

"Yikes," Eddie says. "You coming tomorrow, too?"

"I am," Steve says. "Are you?"

Eddie raises his eyebrows, like he didn't expect Steve to ask that. "Yeah, we'll be here. Not in these seats, though."

The lights go back down before Steve can ask what he means by that. He reaches behind him, scoops Anna back down on the ground, and puts her ear defenders on by the time the second opener strikes a scary-sounding opening chord.

Anna doesn't look scared at all. From the moment the music starts, she looks up at Eddie, and when he starts headbanging, she does, too.

Yup. Steve has effectively created a monster.

He contemplates, if Dustin is fine by tomorrow, skipping out on the show and giving his ticket to Anna, but that means not seeing Eddie again.

He really wants to see Eddie again, even if he won’t have the same seats.

Whatever that means.

Steve decides not to focus on that. He decides instead to focus on the moment. He listens to the music. He lets Anna take his hand and dance with it. He bops his head along with hers, but not too hard because he can’t risk aggravating his whiplash.

He enjoys the show, even if it’s not his cup of tea. It’s easy to enjoy the show, with Eddie next to him. It’s easy to enjoy his wild hair and pretty jewelry and big eyes and contagious enthusiasm.

It’s easy to see the way Eddie looks at him.

It’s also very easy, after the venue clears and Anna falls asleep in the car on the way home, to forget to ask for his number.

Shit.

(Part 2 is alive!!)

[karikarasuno]

part one | part two | part three | part four

law is a grown man. with a hard job. a tiring one. exhausting even.

so he shouldn’t be embarrassed that he fell asleep on your couch watching your favorite movie like an old fucking man. nor should he be embarrassed that you woke him up mid snore with sleepy eyes and an amused grin.

“you sleeping over, sleepyhead or should i send you home?”

his mouth is dry and he’s comfortably full. and was having the best dreamless sleep. the best sleep he’s had in a while, really.

“I should go home,” he mutters, his voice hoarse from lack of use. he stretches and his spine cracks. you chuckle and smack him on the shoulder lightly before standing up and holding out your hands to help him up. he slaps his palms against yours, doing most of the work getting up but putting enough weight on you so that you think you’re helping.

“i guess this is goodbye,” you say, fingers toying with law’s expectantly. but law is still a little high. and more than a little sleepy. so when he looks back at this moment he can’t help but cringe.

he should have kissed you. you wanted him to kiss you. he wanted to kiss you. but he hugged you instead. one-armed and a touch awkward.

“oh! ok,” you muffle it into his hoodie, but he doesn’t remember responding. not until the next morning when he’s showering away the grogginess before work.

oh, he’s an idiot.

so yeah maybe over the last few days he’s been avoiding you. but he also has been busy. he had multiple surgeries. all very difficult to do. all successful. he shouldn’t beat himself over a kiss. or lack thereof.

he hasn’t been home for more than an hour before there’s a knock on his door. he's expecting company so he doesn't think twice before swinging the door open. but he expects cora to be standing there or even his sister. neither of which are taking up the space in front of his open door. instead you stand there with your hands on your hips and a very determined look on your face.

"you're avoiding me," you say rather bluntly. no hi or hello or how are you doing.

"i'm not," he argues, even though he is.

"you totally are," you point an accusatory finger at him, but he can't tell if you're actually upset with him or not.

"no, i've been busy this week," he shrugs trying his hardest to be nonchalant.

"oh so this has nothing to do with us making out in my kitchen or the fact that you thanked me for it when you left?"

he cringes again. what possessed him to thank you he'd never know. all he knows is that he's slightly mortified that he did. so fine, he's been avoiding you.

"you know, we don't have to make this weird," you continue, talking animatedly with your hands. "i mean we were really starting to become friends so if us kissing made things awkward then we don't have to do it anymore."

anymore. as if the two of you have been kissing this whole time.

"like really, we can forget it ever happened. but if the kiss was bad and that's why you're ignoring me just lie because then i'd have to start avoiding you and it will turn into this whole fucking thing."

he never realized how much you rambled. words are falling from your lips so quickly that he can only get the gist of what you're saying, but even that registers as ridiculous to him. of course the kiss wasn't bad.

"if you didn't like that kiss it would be such a huge blow to my ego because if i'm being honest that was such a great kiss for me, but if you hated it-"

"stop," he interrupts because at no point does it sound like you're going to run out of air. "i didn't hate the kiss. it was a good kiss."

"so then why...?"

"just come inside," he says, annoyed that his ac is being wasted by the open door.

and he doesn't register the way your eyes widen and your jaw drops when he closes the door behind you and pushes you against it. he's just trying to gather his thoughts. he's not trying to make a move. not really anyway. but with his hand splayed out across your stomach and your back firmly against the wood, he notices that you've finally stopped talking.

he sighs with relief.

"i don't regret what we did. i just have been feeling weird about what i said," he admits, almost wishing that he didn't.

"it was sweet," you grin, head tilting to the side.

"it was..." he trails off, electing not to even finish the sentence. "anyway i enjoyed the kiss so you can stop freaking out over it."

"how much?" your grin is growing smug and he hates how attractive he finds it.

"what?"

"how much did you enjoy the kiss?" now your grin is absolutely shit-eating.

"enough to do it again," he confesses. he sees the way your eyes light up, hell he feels the way your excitement builds when you adjust beneath his hand. the hand that he should’ve moved but decided subconsciously not to because he also enjoys the way you feel against him.

“so what are you waiting for then?” your heads cocks to the side and you look up at him with flirty eyes as your tongue swipes across your bottom lip.

“is that what you want?” he steps closer to you, his socked feet touching the toe of your shoes. his hand presses more firmly against your stomach and he watches the way your head thuds against his door.

everything was normal two seconds ago. there was no heat in his home. no tension pulling his muscles taut. but now he’s drawn to you in unexplainable ways. he’s going to kiss you. he has the choice but the way you’re looking at him makes him question if the decision really was ever his.

“come on then,” you whisper, hands sliding up his arms until your hands lock behind his neck, “kiss me.”

you don’t tug him down. you try to but law decides its easier to lift you off the floor so that you come nose to nose with each other. he likes the way you gasp when he uses his body to press you against the door again. he especially likes the way he can feel the exhale of your shock tickle his lips.

“fine,” he says just before his lips meet yours. he remembers kissing you the first time but because of his high everything was a little muddy. the memory tinged with just a bit of fog. like an overcast day.

this kiss though is going to be seared into his mind. you whimper when he kisses you. did you do that last time?

your hands are so insistent as you tug him closer. his tongue is already in your mouth so he doesn’t know how much closer he can really be. but you’re kinda desperate. for him.

it makes his head reel. and when you tug on his hair, the pressure on his scalp makes him groan. fuck, he really wants you. how you could ever think he didn’t like kissing you was beyond him. he’s already hard for christ’s sake.

“we should go to my room.” he hopes you agree. prays for it. because if you keep kissing him like this his knees will eventually give out.

“ok,” you respond with your lips still touching his. “i’d like that.”

he knows you expect him to put you down with the way your legs start to unhook from around him, but he tightens his hold on your hips. reluctant to let you go.

it’s been a while since law was able to touch and be touched like this. so the idea of letting you go now, when you were already so willing to be in his arms, will actually devastate him. a feeling he will have to reevaluate later.

instead he carries you off to his bedroom, not giving you the time or space to look around. not that there’s much to see given how painfully boring his home is. he’s a victim of millennial grey.

he tosses you onto his bed and he watches you bounce slightly before he’s climbing over you. his lips find your neck where he starts to place open mouthed kisses across sensitive skin. you arch into him and he really likes the way your breasts press into him as you do.

“you have a four poster bed?” the question rattles in his brain uselessly until he pulls away to see you gazing up at his bed frame.

“yeah… it was my parents before they decided to upgrade their bedroom furniture,” he says like it’s obvious before moving back down to kiss your neck again, this time trailing wet kisses across your collarbone.

“it would be so pretty if you draped those white thin curtains over it. you know the ones?”

he’s growing frustrated when he looks back up at you and you’re still looking at frame. almost as if you’re already envisioning it.

he tilts your head back towards him by pressing his pointer finger to your chin. your eyes slide over to him and he can tell you’re a little dazed. but he’s not sure if it’s because of him or his fucking bed frame.

“can you focus?” he grits out, eyes glaring into yours. you blink up at him, lips stretching into a salacious smile.

“on you?” you ask, very clearly knowing the answer but taunting him anyway.

“on me, exactly.” but law refuses to wait for an answer from you. he’s hard and his hands are finally on you and he can still taste the remnants of cranberry juice on your tongue. you’re driving him crazy.

he kisses you hard with purpose. the purpose to mostly shut you up. but to also keep your attention on him. he craves your attention. maybe he’s deprived.

none of it matters though because you whine into his mouth when he sucks your tongue. your hands come up to fist his t-shirt and your hips start seeking friction against the thigh he placed between your legs.

his hands push your top over your breasts, the fabric bunching beneath your chin, and exposing the poor excuse of a bra you have on. it’s just thin lace that does nothing to conceal how hard your nipples are. but it still decorates your chest in a way that has him salivating.

law dips his head down to press a kiss to your sternum, dragging his lips across your chest until his lips hover over one of your nipples. you wiggle relentlessly when he doesn’t do anything, instead he rests his nose against the top of your breast and he inhales the smell of your skin.

“don’t tease me,” you complain, nails dragging through his hair in an attempt to get him to do something.

“i’m not teasing,” he replies, his lips ghosting over your hard peak and smiling to himself when your hips stutter where you’re grinding against his leg.

“you are,” you whine, and when he glances up at you your head is thrown back and you’re trying to take measured breaths through your mouth. good, he needs you focused only on him.

“no,” his lips wrap around your nipple and you moan out so pretty for him. his dick twitches.

“i’m savoring,” he emphasizes before sucking your nipple into his mouth and dampening the transparent fabric with his spit. you moan out his name and his skin goosebumps at the sound. he’s thought of this more times than he’d care to admit but it dulls in comparison to the reality.

you’re clingy. and he short circuits at the realization. for all your quippy little comments and playful mocking you have little to no resolve right now. you’re putty in his hands. and your body is positively begging for him not to stop.

“law,” your voice is wispy and distant. your eyes are screwed shut and your lips are parted and you want him. need him. he can just tell.

he moves down your body and your hands follow. always touching him. he can’t get enough. he takes off your shoes rougher than he intends but you’re eager. so eager you start working your pants down your thighs.

“it matches,” he exhales after you kick off your pants and try reaching for him again.

“huh?” you scoot closer to the edge of the mattress where he’s standing, seeking him out again. his hand drifts between your thighs, fingers carefully dragging across your covered center. the lace of your panties is the same as your bra. the hair on his arms bristle when it occurs to him that you did this on purpose.

your hand finds his shirt, intent on pulling him towards you again, but instead he drops to his knees. law spreads your legs wide, massaging your thighs as he tosses your calves over his shoulders.

he kisses the inside of each knee, luxuriating in the feel of your skin against his lips. it really has been too long. when he looks up at you, you’re propped on your elbows staring down at him. your pupils are blown out and your shirt is still tucked beneath your chin and you look so expectant.

he doesn’t miss the way your hands ball up his comforter as he kisses down your thighs. or the way you bite your lip when his breath fans over your pussy.

law’s grip tightens on your thighs the closer his lips get to tasting you. he’s trying so hard to be normal but he finds it difficult when he can see how wet you are through your panties.

he slips his fingers beneath the edge of your underwear, sliding it off to the side. he groans at the sight. unintentionally. he takes two fingers and spreads you apart, the contact has your hips rolling into him.

you’re so responsive. especially when he dips two fingers into your entrance and drags your slick over your clit. he does that a few more times, watching as you clench around nothing every time he pulls them out.

“you say you’re not a tease,” you start, whispering because your voice is all breath at this point, “but it’s really starting to feel like you’re lying.”

he chuckles against your inner thigh, entertained. “i’d apologize but this view is too pretty not to appreciate.”

“i think you’d appreciate it better if you actually did something,” you breathe, voicing ticking up with impatience.

“and what would that something be?” he asks, fingertips resting at your entrance but refusing to go in further. he’s having fun. more fun than he’s had in a long time.

“something like this,” you say, reaching between your own thighs to move his fingers out of the way. it’s the last thing he expects you to do. to finger yourself right in front of his face. but he stares as you pump your fingers in and out with practice. they’re considerably smaller than his yet you still roll your hips as you meet each gentle thrust. you still moan in relief. you still sigh his name.

“move,��� now he’s the impatient one. he can’t bear the sight anymore. he needs to satisfy you. so badly he swears his skin starts vibrating.

he removes your hand like it’s nothing, slipping your fingers into his mouth to clean them off. you gasp in surprise but he’s not really thinking anymore. it’s all just instinct.

he licks between your folds, groaning at your taste. you’re so wet, impossibly so. his eyes fall shut and he truly does savor you. he swallows you down over and over, his lips wrapping around your clit as your hips begin to circle.

“oh, law, you’re so good at that,” your hand finds his hair and a moan of surprise slinks up his throat at your praise. he needs to hear you say it again.

law returns his fingers to you. not toying with you this time. he hooks his fingers exactly the way you did a few moments ago. and you cry out, fingers curling in his hair.

“mmm just like that.” you’re still propped up on your elbows but your chin is resting against your chest and you can barely keep your eyes open as you watch him. your voice is soft and whiny and your movements start to become frantic.

“shit shit shit.” he’s pretty sure he’s leaking into his boxers. he speeds up and your noises increase in response.

your mouth is absolutely filthy. you beg and swear and ramble. it washes over him in waves, molten lust coursing through his veins.

“m’gonna cum, oh my-.” you collapse onto his bed as you come around his fingers and into his mouth. your thighs snap around his head and it muffles your pleas. but he doesn’t stop. not until he feels you go boneless around him. your walls the only thing still tremoring around his fingers as your breaths leave your lungs in satisfied wheezes.

he’s so hard it hurts, yet seeing you like this almost makes him feel like he got off too. he kisses his way back up your body. his lips soaked in your orgasm.

your hands are weak and shaky as you loop your fingers through his belt loops. somehow still wanting more from him.

“let’s take a second,” he gently wraps his fingers around your wrist to stop you as he pecks your neck and cheek.

he would stay in this syrupy afterglow with you forever. he could keep you in these sheets for hours. that’s what he wants. it’s what he craves. but just like everything in his life nothing is ever convenient.

“kiss me again,” you plead.

but his lips never touch yours. there’s three loud knocks on his door. cora’s voice slips through the cracks.

“no,” he jumps off of you, searching his pockets for his phone. “fuck, i forgot my siblings were coming over.”

“what?!” you recover quickly, covering yourself with your hands as if you got caught by them. “that’s not something you forget!”

you’re scolding him. “you distracted me!” he retaliates and your mouth opens and then promptly shuts.

“that’s fair,” you ultimately reply.

he pulls his phone from his back pocket and opens his doorbell camera app.

“why are my parents here?” his voice is cold, drenched in his shock.

“oh my god, i cannot meet your parents like this! your brother was one thing,” you shuffle off the bed and onto the floor. “what do we do?”

“get dressed,” he tosses you your pants as he quickly adjusts himself in his. “i just have to think of something to say.”

“i came over for a cup of sugar?” you offer as you stick your legs into bottoms.

“ok no,” he rolls his eyes, “firstly that doesn’t happen in real life-,”

“it totally does.”

“and second, they’re never gonna believe that.”

“why not?” and you pout.

“because the likelihood of me owning sugar is very low,” he answers tearing his eyes away from your bottom lip. you’re starting to become a real problem for him.

“jeez, no smoking, no sugar. what are you? Mormon?” you try to fix your hair but you only kind of make it worse.

“yes,” he says, monotone and staring blankly at you.

“really?”

“no.” he laughs to himself.

“jerk,” you push him but not hard enough for him to budge.

“let’s just go,” he tries to tug you out of his room once your decent.

“no way, i am just gonna sneak out the back and cut across our lawns.”

“you can’t be serious.” he doesn’t see the problem.

“law, i refuse to meet your entire freaking family in pajamas and having just come all over your face. you really expect me to greet your mom like that?!”

well now that he thinks about it. he can still smell you on his face. and all he can think about when he looks at you is how pretty you look freshly fucked. maybe you should sneak out the back.

“i’m too old for this shit,” he shakes his head and unlocks the sliding glass door in his bedroom.

“i promise I’ll make it up to you.” you lean up to kiss him chastely but not wasting much time before you slip out the door and dart across his lanai.

the doorbell rings out loud and sharp. he doesn’t have the time to watch you go unfortunately.

“one second!” he yells out running to his bathroom to splash water on his face and wash his hands before jogging to the front door.

“what took you so long?” cora eyes him like he knows exactly what took him so long. but that’s impossible. his brother is just a menace.

“i was in the bathroom,” he lies. his sister bullies her way inside first, headphones on and texting furiously. next his parents walk in holding bags for dinner. it looks like enough food to feed ten families if he’s being honest.

“hi, sweetie.” his mom taps his cheek with her hand and he internally cringes.

“son,” his dad nods and claps him on the shoulder.

cora lingers though. he sizes law up before stepping over the threshold, leaning in close as he says “i saw her run out the back.”

law side eyes him, but says nothing.

“you scoundrel.”

part five

[almostempty]

self esteem (joel x f!reader)

wc: 2.9k | masterlist | rating: 18+ | read on ao3 |

part 2 ⎯ part 3 ⎯ part 4

summary: Joel blows you off for your date. You end up blowing him when he shows up looking to score. Inspired by the song Self Esteem by The Offspring. 

tags/warnings: kinda mean/fuckboy joel, mild dub con, smut, PWP, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected piv sex, joel comes on your tits, dirty talk, one (1) slap, choose your own joel era, reader is on some dumb bitch juice for this man (i would be too), hit and run, smash and dash,

a/n: PLEASE send any feedback, this is the first thing i’ve ever written and posted, i’m tryn’ to practice and gain confidence bc my dream fic doesn’t exist so i gotta write it, it’s scary to post, y’all are so brave wtf 

It’s purgatory. You’d made plans to go out tonight with Joel. It’s useless to expect him to show up, but you got ready and anxiously paced around your living room anyway. Checking your phone, at thirty minutes past the time he had said he’d pick you up. You sent him a text. His read receipts were on; he saw your message. Another thirty minutes pass agonizingly slowly. He hasn’t responded. You can feel a mild headache forming behind your eyes. 

You grab a drink from your fridge and collapse on the couch with a sigh. A mixture of anger, regret, and rejection churns in your gut. You shouldn’t have set yourself up for disappointment. 

No, he shouldn’t be such an asshole. You’ve got to stick up for yourself. Tell him off for his bullshit. The manipulation, standing you up, the lies. You know he’s using you. 

Unfortunately, you find the toxic rush addictive. The way he charms and seduces you after disappearing or acting like an idiot. You enable his behavior every time. 

And it’s sick that you like it. You like knowing it’s your door he knocks on in the middle of the night. He won’t take you on a date, but he still can’t stay away. 

No. Not this time. You’re done letting him waste your time with plans that never materialize. You’re going to practice all the things you should say. Tell him to fuck off. 

You grab another drink and return to the couch. The rejection is sinking in, and you’re feeling pretty low. You silence notifications from him in an attempt to take control of your thoughts. To stop waiting for it to light up with his name. You aren’t going to keep waiting for him. 

You shower and change into a big T-shirt and underwear. Returning to the couch, you turn on some trash TV to shut your brain off. It helps. Keeps you distracted. When it hits 2 AM, you crawl off the couch and turn out the lights. You hope you’re tired enough to sleep without Joel haunting your thoughts. 

You’re getting a glass of water to take to bed when you hear the knock at your door. Your stomach swoops and your body tenses with excitement. 

You’re fucked. 

You can’t stop the smile that breaks out on your face. 

He’s like a stray cat. Or, more like a tomcat. You know he’s gonna sweet talk his way in. You should ignore him. You should leave him outside on your doorstep, horny and alone. Let him feel rejected this time. 

You crack open the door and face Joel. He glows in the moonlight, stupid eyes sparkling when he looks at you. He leans an arm on the door frame and purrs at you. 

“Baby.”  

You roll your eyes. His breath smells like whiskey. 

“What the fuck, Joel? Where were you?”

He frowns. Big brown eyes try to weaken your defenses. 

“Work thing.” 

“Til 2 AM?” 

“One of the guys on the crew. Was his birthday, so we had to take him out.” 

You don’t believe him. You feel the urge to slap him across his scruffy cheek. You feel the urge to pull him in and kiss him. 

No. You can’t listen to that voice. The voice that still gets butterflies over him showing up at the door. He’s only here because all the bars closed, and now he’s looking to score. 

He preys on your moment of weakness. You’re in a debate with your inner demons, and he barges his way into your space. He moves like a blur. You blink and his rough hand is tracing the line of your jaw. 

He’s caging you in against the back of your door. He leans in closer. Hot breath fanning over your face. Your breath is still caught in your throat. You have half a mind to shove him off of you and begin your lecture, but he gives you no chance. 

He presses urgent kisses and bites along your jawline and down the column of your throat. A vampire at your door. You didn’t invite him in, but he’s got his teeth sinking into your flesh anyway. 

He smells like sweat, sawdust, and some over-scented men’s deodorant. Smells like a man, your lizard brain thinks. 

Trapped between him and the door, the closeness is intoxicating. His body is large and powerful and radiates a frenetic energy. Like he’s buzzing with need for you. You can’t help it; you like feeling wanted like this. Desired. The way he crashes into you like a feral beast—

“Wait.” Some sense flashes into your conscience. 

“Hmm?” he growls in your ear. His face is still buried against your neck while his hands grope at your body. You can feel the heat radiating off of him. His hands move to knead at your breasts through your soft, faded shirt. You fight to ignore the pleasure. 

“Joel.”

“Hmm.”

“You can’t just show up in the middle of the night after bailing on me and expect to get laid.” 

His hands slide under your shirt. The skin-to-skin contact makes you dizzy. He pinches and pulls at your nipples, and you fight back a moan, trying to refocus. 

“Joel!” you snap at him. 

“C’mon, I’m sorry, baby,” he coos into your skin. 

He rocks his hips against you, and the sensation of his hard bulge in his jeans against your soft skin sends a jolt of need through your nervous system. The words you practiced earlier slip further and further from your mind. 

“You can’t keep treating me like this.” You lob at him. The rest of your speech is hazy. You're grasping at sentence fragments, trying to remember the points you wanted to make. 

“Not gonna keep working.”

“Quit,” he replies sharply. 

“What?” 

One of his large hands slides up, still under your shirt, bunching it up, and wraps around your throat. He bites at your chin. Sharp teeth. He kisses your cheek. Soft lips. He nips your earlobe. You gasp. He sucks it into his hot mouth. Your eyes slam shut. 

You feel like you’re at his mercy, and the cavewoman inside of you just wants him to drag you to bed. 

“Quit arguing,” he grumbles. His deep voice in your ear sends a rush of arousal down your spine. 

“It’s not fair,” you protest. 

He shifts. His hands travel downward to squeeze at the plush skin of your ass. He tugs you forward and shoves his knee between your legs. You lose any train of thought. Cruel man. You don’t care anymore. You’ll let him keep tearing pieces out of your heart. As long as you can keep using each other's bodies. 

The pressure and friction of his thigh against your tingling pussy is the ultimate betrayal. You can’t stop the whiny gasps that come out of your mouth at the contact. 

He lets out a satisfied chuckle at that. Cocky bastard. 

“Not fair,” he repeats after you. “Hmm. Tell that to your wet cunt dripping on my leg, baby.” 

Your core flutters at his words. You feel your face flush, but it’s hard to argue with him. 

“I think you want me,” he continues. 

You try to glare at him. Your hips don’t care, though, as they roll against him. 

“S’alright, baby.”

You wish it were. 

“I only want you.” 

You desperately want to believe him. You shove that thought out of your mind. 

He pulls your shirt off and rakes his eyes down your body. He’s menacing. His broad shoulders and tense muscles loom over you. He’s fully clothed while you’re bare except for your wet panties clinging to your folds. 

Your chest heaves as you watch him. He has a carnivorous gaze. You’re prey with your soft body exposed; he’s a hungry predator waiting to make a lethal move. 

But he doesn’t strike. 

He moves painfully slowly. Tracing a finger down over your lips, down your chest, and belly, to the hem of your underwear. He slips the tip of his finger underneath and skates it across your skin from left to right. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, tense and twitching at the sensations. It’s too delicate. His expression looks like he wants to eat you whole, but his movement is restrained. 

“Know you do.” his voice washes over you, and a slight hum echoes in your throat. 

“You want me.” he husks. 

He pushes you back off his thigh. His hand dives further into your panties, and he drags his fingers through the pool of your arousal and spreads it through your folds. A smile breaks out on his face. 

“Yes,” you exhale as your body shudders. 

A look flashes across his features, and his eyes darken with lust. You peer down to watch his hand disappear in your underwear. 

“Say it.” He demands. 

“What?” Your eyes flick up to his. 

“Say it.” He repeats firmly. 

You writhe a little as he continues to toy with you. He’s wicked. Tracing circles around your clit, but not long enough to build a satisfying rhythm before he dips down and fills you with two fingers. He moves them lazily for his own enjoyment. 

You groan in frustration. It’s a tempting sound to his ears, but he doesn’t look amused. He’s waiting to hear it. 

“I want you?” you guess what he’s waiting for you to say. 

There's no use lying about it if that’s what he wants to hear. You want him. Even if you’ve been ruminating over his shitty behavior all night. 

“You askin’ or tellin’?” 

“Want you,” you repeat as a statement. 

He pulls his hand away completely. Your body jerks, chasing his touch. 

“Please,” you try. 

“Again.” he’s gruff. Ferocious as he demands you confess your desire. 

You sigh. Maybe for giving up so quickly or maybe because you always knew you would. 

“I want you.” 

He doesn’t relax. Or move. 

“Again.” He repeats like he’s a malfunctioning robot. 

“I want you, Joel.” 

“Again.”

“Please, Joel, I want you.” 

The hint of a smirk appears on his face. 

He taps your chin, encouraging you to part your lips. He slides his wet fingers in your mouth, along your tongue, and then removes them. He holds your open mouth, fingers around your jaw, and looks as if he’s assessing the quality of your tongue. 

“Prove it.” He commands. 

His tone does something to your brain.

Tomorrow, you might be confused at how he blew you off, but you ended up on your knees blowing him. But right now, you’re chasing a desperate need.

He steps back to give you space. You drop to your knees as he undoes his belt. Your eager hands work his jeans and boxers down far enough to expose his leaking cock. 

If you looked, you might’ve caught his condescending smirk, now fully exposed. 

You don’t look. You don’t wait for further instructions. You lap at his tip and tease with your tongue. You start working him into your mouth. 

The weight of his cock on your tongue causes you to moan. The vibrations cause him to moan right back. 

His arm shoots out to the door behind you for support. His head hangs, watching you move. 

“Fuck,” he groans at the sight of your lips wrapped around him. His clipped grunts and the way his core flexes encourage you. Your soft hand works in tandem with your mouth, and you’re drooling openly. You coat him in saliva. Messy. Your lips are swollen. 

When he breaches your throat, you slow down to focus on your breathing and swallowing. Little gags contract around the head of his cock as you focus on relaxing. 

“Fuck. Yeah, baby, show me you want it,” he rambles above you. 

You keep going and take him deep until your jaw aches and your pussy throbs. Hearing him react and spew filth at you stokes the fire in your core. 

“Knew your cock hungry mouth was waiting for me,” he slurs. 

A flash of embarrassment courses through you at that statement. 

You did wait for him. You should’ve said no. But it’s so hard when he shows up ready to go. You may be dumb for tolerating his actions, but you’re not going to turn down a man that looks like him and fucks like he does.  

“Eyes up,” he orders. 

You whine around him, looking up through your lashes. Obedient. With your eyes locked on each other, something passes briefly between you. Easy to miss, hard to describe. Like you could look at each other like that forever. Then it’s gone. 

He slides out of your mouth. Ogling the pornographic way spit trails between his tip and your tongue. The way your lashes are wet from trying to blink away the tears of exertion. 

“I did wait, Joel. Waited for you all night,” your voice comes out a little hoarse. You can’t be bothered if it sounds desperate. 

“‘Course you did,” he smiles and cradles your cheek in his palm. “Get up.” 

You don’t argue. He helps to pull you up, spins you around, and walks you the few steps over to your couch. He bends you over the armrest. You’re burning with need. 

He takes his time pulling your panties off. The way he has you presented for him makes you impatient. 

“Joel,” you whine his name in protest. 

“Quit.” He slaps your ass to make his point. 

You huff, but when both of his large palms spread your cheeks wider for his own enjoyment, another needy whine slips out of your throat. 

He chuckles darkly at you. 

“I’ll give you what you need,” he assures you before he sinks into your desperately empty hole. 

You groan in unison as he fills you. 

“So deep,” you murmur. He fits like he was made for you. Fills you up, so you can’t think of anything else. Can’t think of what you wanted to say or how you felt watching the time pass while you waited for him to show up earlier. 

“Always,” he agrees. 

He picks up a bruising pace. On edge for so long, you might go blind with the force of your building climax. 

He grasps your hair at the base of your skull and pulls, further arching your back and ripping another moan from deep in your chest. The sensations are overwhelming, and your mind feels blank. The sounds of his hips slapping into you and your combined panting, grunting, and babbling turn to white noise. The consistent drive of his cock against the perfect spot inside of you has you hurtling to the edge. 

“Yeah, baby, I know what you want,” he croons. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, and his other hand wraps around you to squeeze at them tightly. He remains steady and brutal with his movements. He does know what you want. And he keeps giving it to you. 

“Please, yes, don’t stop,” you beg. 

You wriggle one hand down to touch yourself. The pressure from your fingers around your clit brings you over the edge. You clench around him and gasp as you come.

“Yeah, that’s it. You come on this cock,” he rasps behind you as he works you through it. 

You feel the release melt your muscles, causing you to slump forward. 

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, and you know he’s trying to hold on as he pulls out and pants heavily. 

“Turn around for me,” he demands, stepping back. “On your knees.” 

You obey and turn to kneel in front of him. He looks wrecked, his eyes half-lidded and his mouth hanging open. His fist wrapped around his cock, still glistening from your release. 

It’s a debauched scene. He’s still fully dressed, only as exposed as necessary. He charges towards his climax with frantic force. You pose for him eagerly despite your boneless, damp form. 

He looks so primal it makes you lightheaded. You bite your lip to stop yourself from letting a giggle out. Your face shines with a sated glow.

You tilt your head up and squeeze your tits together for him. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he rasps out like it’s the only word he knows at this point. Your glossy, swollen lips pout up at him. Like, you need him to finish for you. That sends him. He comes across your chest as you release your hands, dropping your breasts with a little bounce.. 

He stares at you as his breathing slows. His warm spend is rapidly cooling against your skin. You still have a glowy, dreamy look on your face. Content.

“You look so good like that,” he praises you. A flush creeps up your chest and neck. 

You stand up and grab your forgotten water from the coffee table. He tucks himself back into his jeans and fastens his belt. 

“You gonna buy me breakfast to make up for bailing?” you float the idea with a joking tone, but there’s hope behind it. 

“Sorry, baby, got a job early in the morning.” 

“Right,” you snarl at him as he leans in to kiss you. 

“How about dinner after?” he suggests and fishes for his keys in his pocket. 

“Okay, yeah, what time?” You ask. 

“Not sure when I’ll be done.” He’s not looking at you. “I’ll text you.” 

He turns, slips out the door, and then he’s gone. 

You’re still standing there, naked and dumbfounded, with his drying come across your tits as he drives away. 

You groan and curse at yourself. He’s not going to text you tomorrow. 

You should stick up for yourself. But he did say he wants only you. And the more you suffer, the more it shows you really care, right? 

-> NEXT

[wroteclassicaly]

18+

You’ve never had head, Eddie’s never given head, and Steve… he’s got a whole lot of hair and experience.

No one really sugar coated anything. It was a simple gathering of three friends at Eddie’s newly purchased trailer (also know as, the one to the left of Wayne’s). Everyone else in the group had plans, so Steve drove you to Eddie’s, all the while knowing something was bothering you. It ended up being Eddie to tease it out of you.

“Never had a guy eat my pussy before.” Your lips wrapped around the neck of your bottle.

Eddie sputtered on his, Steve’s brows rose in surprise.

“But you’ve had sex, right? I thought you said —“ Steve tried, only for you to cut him off.

“Yes, I’ve had sex a few times, but they’ve never eaten me out. I mean, do you guys even like doing that? My date said I was too slimey.” You’re embarrassed to even admit.

Steve scoffed as Eddie wiped the beer off his chin. “I’m surprised the jerk-off was even able to get you that wet.”

You pick at the label of the dark glass. Steve runs a massive hand through his hair, his voice gentle, protective. “Is that what’s been bothering you all night?”

To which, you nod. You both turn towards Eddie as he clears his throat, adding in his two cents. He tucks a set of loose strands behind his freshly pierced ear, that circular charm dangling. “Uh, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve never eaten a girl out before. But I’m all for slime time. That’s a good thing, right?”

Steve marveled, briefly entertained at how backward the two of you looked. He wasn’t stupid, you’d been flirting with one another (the three of you) off and on for a while now. Bringing this up, it would be a wasted opportunity to be with his two favorite people. And the idea, it struggles to keep up with the swelling between Steve’s legs. That weirdly in synch look that you shared, Steve knew it was the correct decision.

“Let me show you guys?”

You found yourself less awkward to be naked around your two best-friends, guys you thought about constantly, in ways you probably shouldn’t have. Still, when it came time to step out of your panties, and the wet spot clung from your cunt to the crotch of the fabric — you let some nerves show. Eddie was frozen, in his boxers, hard as a rock, both men observing your body in a way that had everyone holding their breaths, appreciating scars and marks alike. And Steve, he took suave control in his own tight briefs, that monster on display. His hands found your shoulders, rubbing up and down your flesh.

His voice sounded jagged, honey-hot, pouring out across his tongue as he licked his bottom lip and bent down to kiss you on your shoulder. “You wanna get on the bed, honey?”

“Should I… towel?” You’re giving them another chance, afraid of how soaked you are.

Eddie immediately said no, making Steve chuckle. “It’s okay. You’ll let us know if it’s not, right?”

You were all too eager to slide onto Eddie’s king sized mattress, arousal webbed from you, dripping onto the sheets. Eddie reminds himself not to do the laundry for another day. Both men joined you - Eddie on the right, Steve to the left. It’s basics, mechanics, foreplay from there.

If Steve Harrington has to pick a sight to remember when dying — this would be it. Seeing Eddie Munson grind himself into the bed as you ride his face, pulling so hard on his hair, that Steve’s cock kicks up imagining how Munson’s scalp must feel. Your tits bounce with every thrusting movement, eyes glossed over with tears and looking up at the ceiling. You’re panting with exertion, breaths getting choppier. And the second that Steve says “Fingers” for Eddie to remember - you’re literally screaming, uncaring.

“I’m gonna cum,” you suddenly shout, teetering dangerously close. The only things you can see are vivid shapes, eyes darting around rapidly to find your boys through the haze. How your heart is full for them, how you’re trembling.

Eddie pauses and lifts, his face covered and shiny. He’s misty eyed, panting, overwhelmed. But your cream covered curls, your essence on his fingers that are tightening around him, Steve’s blown pupils as he looks over at him — he wants to keep you two here.

“Why did you…?” You’re whining, tilting, trying to fuck yourself onto his fingers.

“Dude, why’d you stop?” Steve is looking incredulous, inching closer, his hard cock pressing at your hip. You blindly reach for him, working yourself up, legs swaying. Steve slides up fast and presses his palm over your thigh to flatten it.

“You okay?” He checks in with Eddie, which makes you also do the same. You tell them you’re fine, Eddie answers next.

“I’m… yeah, man. Just wanted to make sure I was doing fine.”

“Well a girl tells you she’s gonna cum, that means you’re doing great, bud.” Steve can’t help but to look at his (friend?) fondly. He reaches out to pushes along Eddie’s sweat slick curls.

Once you see that things are okay, you feel yourself relaxing back into things, Eddie’s finger still inside. Steve hears you shakily exhale. He folds, tilting his head as he leans back down, Eddie resuming his position. “Come here, honey. We’re gonna let you come, I promise you. You’re doing so good. You feeling good?” You give a nod. “Yeah?”

You smile lazily.

“Steve?”

He switches his gaze from the curly haired rocker between your thighs. “Hmm?”

“Will you put a finger inside of me too?”

Eddie moans, a sound so deep that it has him raising his face to stare Harrington down, pleading with him to do it. Steve has never been so eager, wiggling his digit towards you, watching you accept it with a swirl, licking like you’re on a mission. You really don’t need it, but Steve does it anyways, letting his arm elongate to give you what you ask for — his cock dribbling into his boxers the second that his thick finger slides into your overly wet walls, right beside Munson’s. Everyone moves in unison, Eddie eating like a starved man, Steve working that spot to the point where he knows what’s gonna happen before you or Eddie do. It’s a fun surprise watching your eyes widen and automatically find Steve’s as it happens, Eddie literally rutting maniacally into the bed as your squirt soaks his face, the sheets, Steve’s arm, even his leg.

Watching the two of you come, sends Steve grinding into your thigh, spare hand cupping the nape of your neck, face hiding in your breasts, as he releases heavily into his briefs. The aftermath is slow, beating hearts, lines crossed. There’s disbelief, nervous wonder. You asking them if they’re alright is what brings them back to earth, each guy taking a place beside you, mingled breathing patterns trying to reset. It’s an unspoken agreement, a must provide, when Steve is kissing you softly, reaching for Eddie like he doesn’t care what people would say anymore, meeting his mouth. This is what he wants, it’s what you all need.

[safination]

Could you do a one shot of Human!Alastor with a flapper!reader?

Maybe where the reader is getting unwanted attention and Alastor intervenes.

Smoke and Shadows

|Masterlist| Pairings: Alastor x Wife!Reader Warnings: Murder, Alastor being Alastor Thank you to the amazing writer who betaed my fic and gave me my title @whatswrongwithblue. Give Blue all your love! You should definitely check what she writes. Requests are always open. They're just slow

Smoke blows out of your lips, micing with the cold, night air. The cigar flickers. Each puff warms your body, and calms the growing ire. Maybe, Alastor’s tastes aren’t too bad.

There’s a question that nags at you, demanding your attention . . . . No, you won’t do it.

A click of your tongue. Alastor would be annoying about the topic.

Even hinting at the idea of his ‘good’ cigar tastes would receive you a shit-eating grin or a week’s worth of that smug smile of his. You wouldn’t know what would be worse. Knowing Alastor, he would find a way to do both.

The mere thought wavers the settling calmness, and that would waste the effect of a perfectly good cigar.

Tonight’s piano player brims with talent. The sound of their jazzy keys dance with the saxophone. It brings you into this deep, deep, smokey lull. Even when those heavy, metal doors muffle their notes, it spills out into the alley, and forces that smile on your lips.

But . . . it begins how it always begins; with an alley, and a man too absorbed in his own ego.

The door opens with a slam, and that’s quite the talent, indeed. Piano notes flow out louder, it’s sound refusing to be drowned by the fever of the of the other instruments. That smile grows a fraction higher.

A man stumbles to the alley, a hand on the wall and clearly, drunk out of his mind. He rubs his fingers together, and blows his breath to keep them warm.

Smoke and laughter spill out of your lips.

It’s quite the cliché’ isn’t it? Alastor would, surely, find this hilarious – a man, a woman, and an alley.

The man snaps towards you, and that smile of his grows wide. Despite the dim lighting . . . huh, those are soft, blue eyes. They’re nice, but you prefer the warm brown ones for those warm, brown eyes wears the ring that matches yours. (His eyes crinkles when he laughs, and through that smokey haze, you wonder – Are they crinkling right now?)

“Hello, there!” he squeaks out as he rubs his hands together. “I mean, umm . . .  Good evening.”

Words spills out of that mouth of his. They carry neither weight nor substance.

So, with a lazy smile, and cold fingers, you enjoy the smoke that flows into your lungs, and tumbles out of your lips. It’s more exciting than whatever he’s saying, that’s for sure. You throw in a couple of, ‘huh . . .’s and a few dashes of, ‘oh, wow’ just for to see how long the conversation can keep going.

Smoke hits his face when he takes a step too close. A single step back, and that’s all you take.

Still, you make a point to show-off how you lean closer to the shadow’s behind. It’s funny, really, how the darkness brewing behind brings this sort of peace that not even the cigar can compete with. (An annoying peace, but still quite peaceful)

The man reaches for your cigar, snatching it right from your fingers.

“Young ladies shouldn’t be smoking these.” He takes a long inhale, then coughs out smoke. There’s a strained smile on his lips as he observes the cigar. Instead of returning a perfectly good cigar, this idiot drops it on the damp ground, and kills the flickering light with his heel.

“Ha!” You smack his bicep in good fun. “Not that young.”

“Hey, you’re looking a few minutes shy from turning into a popsicle,” he tells you, as if the cold isn’t already seeping through your bones. “Why don’t you take my coat? It wouldn’t be right to allow a lady to freeze. You can always return it to me tomorr—”

“You’re taking too long.” You click your tongue towards the shadows behind. “Hutty up. It’s cold, and you’re making me wait too long.”

It’s starts with a soft whistle of a tune. . .

The echoing sounds of footsteps bounce between the brick walls. Each step demands the attention of all. Alastor steps out of the shadows, yet their dark hands still cling to the edges of his form.

There’s a coat folded across his arms. Alastor drapes it around your shoulders, pulling on the lapels from behind to secure it. There it is again, because it’s funny, actually. The wind blows cold between the small alley, yet the cold ebbs away because of the command of such a simple jacket.

Alastor pulls on your shoulders, crashing you towards him with a hearty laugh. It bounces between your bodies, and settles into your bones. (And oh . . . his eyes are crinkling.)

“I apologize, dearest.” Despite the smile, there’s a part of you that doesn’t actually believe he’s sorry. “I was curious to see just how long you were willing to hold out for.” Alastor pokes the edges of your lips upwards to force a smile. “I had quite the laugh!”

Your eyes roll, and settle it towards the man. “He likes to think he’s hilarious.”

“Ha. Ha! Ha!” Alastor’s eye twitches for a moment, and his lips purse together. “I guess humor is something only the few possess now. It’s unfortunate to see it’s decline.”

“Oh, don’t say that, my dear,” you say, pressing a kiss on the edges of his lips with a smile. “I’m sure one day you’ll possess it as well.”

The man clears his throat, and reaches out for a handshake. It’s never given. “You sound familiar,” he says, after a long beat. “I think I’ve heard your voice before.”

“Is he being a bother, dearest?” Alastor leans towards you, and blows straight into your ear. His reward for such an action comes in the form on your elbow digging into his stomach — “oof. That’s not quite the answer I was expecting.”

“We’re all friends here.”

Alastor is smiling that strained smile that only appears when he’s relying on his habit to keep his smile up. “Hush now,” he says, and places a finger across his mouth. “I was talking to the lady.”

Those warm, brown eyes that Alastor own . . . they look at you expectantly.

You consider it for a moment, weighting your options. The real question is whether or not you actually cared about the man enough to be bothered. Notes of smoke and rich leaves linger on your tongue, and damn, that was a really good cigar. Despite that smokey hazy of calmness from the cigar, it’s the peace of Alastor that settles its annoying fingers on your nerves. He won’t release it anytime soon.

“You decide,” are the words you find yourself saying. “I don’t particularly care—Just make it quick.”

The edges of his lips curl just a little bit softer, and you know you did good.

Alastor grabs your wrist, lifting them up in the air with such an irritating flare. Really, it should be considered a talent of his – not anyone can find your last nerves, and tap-dance all over them. He places your palms over your ears. It’s a silent command, and one that you follow without complaint.

Alastor brings a hand over your eyes, and suddenly, darkness is all you’re able to see.

See? It’s a Cliché.

It began with an alley and a man, and it will end with an alley and a man.

Only the shadows listen in on the quickened footsteps. It’s lasting longer than it should, and like all games, it eventually comes to an end. And well, . . . let’s just say Alastor likes ending things with a bang!

Gunfire rings across the wall, and you sink just a little bit deeper into the arms that steady you.

Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek, and suddenly, you’re able to see once more. His body blocks the view of the corpse. There’s a moment there, where you try and lean over, but Alastor pokes the edges of your lips to force a smile. It doesn’t stop until you’re smiling up at him.

“I want to see,” you say, slapping his hands away. “I was the one who lured him out, and I was the one who had to wait in the cold.”

“Now, now.” Alastor plants kiss across your other cheek. “That wasn’t our agreement.”

The edges of his coat slide off your shoulders. It’s the way Alastor grabs the lapels, and secure it around your body once more that prompts the answer, “Fine, but I want to go home now.”

“Give it a moment, dearest. We can’t just leave him here.”

You fling your arms around his back, pulling him into a hug. It’s easier to sneak a look when Alastor sinks straight into your hold, and . . . woah, that’s one killer aim – straight through the head. “It’s really starting to get cold.” You blow into his ear. “So, hurry up. I’ll wait inside.”

Alastor brings your wrist high up into the air, and you have to go on the tips of your toes to stay upright. He slides his fingers across your palm, forcing them to open before intertwining your hands. “So, your ‘help’ only extends on being the bait?”

“I waited in the cold.” You try to pull your hand back, but Alastor’s grip stays firm. “As far as I’m concerned, I already did my ‘helping’.”

One of his hands snake around you, and Alastor lifts you into his hold, settling you against him. “Of course,” he says, catching your free hand to hold it once again. “But, when there’s a body to be dragged, suddenly, your assistance becomes limited.”

You show him your most innocent smile.

Alastor whistles along the tune of the piano. The feather on your head sways along as Alastor dances to the music, twisting to the beats of the notes. If the weight of carrying you in his arm hinders that determination to dance . . . well, no complaints fall off his lips.

“Al,” you begin, and lean into the crook of his neck, “the body.”

“It wouldn’t be right to allow a lady to freeze.”

Your smiled widens, warmth blossoming in your stomach. It spread through your limbs with a tingle and settles into your cheeks. Maybe, just maybe, you would admit to leaning just a little closer. “I can’t wait to go home with you.”

Alastor laughs into the air, bright and airy. So, so, full of delight.

It’s everything to you.

[artdcnaldson]

Has reader ever just had a "i have to get out" moment in the changeover universe?

Like art is trying to talk to her after sex and shes just staring at the wall re thinking her decisions.

They are very toxic and i know the reader has feelings for them so i think art would have been very smothering ir clingy if reader made any atempts at going out with another circle of friends and distancing herself

(im sorry i over analyse many situations 😭)

Anon… i love u <3 I love this messy main character bc i too would throw away my scruples for this man.

Rating: M

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Toxic situationship, manipulation kinda, mild angst

Summary: You say something you shouldn’t. It messes up the fucked up equilibrium that you and Art had found in whatever you could call the relationship you had together.

FEBRUARY 2007

For Valentine’s Day, you got Art a teddy bear and a box of chocolates. He got you nothing. He wasn’t your boyfriend, so you didn’t know why you were upset about it, but you were. It stung like a fresh wound, one you could never just let be.

The two of you fucked, because that’s what you always did. The feeling of his mouth on yours, warm and tasting of mint, almost made you forgive him for not getting you anything. He called you beautiful, let his hands trace your body reverently, made you cum once, twice before he pulled you into his lap and let you sink onto him.

His forehead was against yours, breath coming in pants as you rode him, bodies pressed so close it almost felt like making love. Maybe that’s why you said it— the words tumbling out like a prayer.

I love you, Art.

He was tense, for a moment, brows furrowed slightly, before he kissed you and laid you onto your back. He pulled another orgasm from an impossible place within you, one you didn’t know existed. He came, messy on your thighs, and rolled over onto his back.

It was quiet, and you felt so far away from him. Your fingers brushed against his hand, testing, but he pulled them away and stood to redress. It was so quiet that you could hear blood pumping in your ears, like an ocean.

”You shouldn’t say stuff like that,” was what he finally said.

Your lip wobbled, just slightly. And then tears pooled on your lashline. “Sorry,” you said weakly.

“It’s fine.” But you had a sinking suspicion that you’d really fucked up. He handed you a towel, and you cleaned yourself up as best as you could while fighting frustrated tears.

”Are you leaving?” You asked. He was standing in between yours and your roommate’s bed, like he hadn’t quite decided yet. You pulled on a tee shirt and underwear and gave him a pathetic, pleading expression. ”Don’t leave, please. I didn’t mean it. We can watch a movie.”

He acquiesced, and let you cling to his side pathetically after you pulled out a portable DVD player. You split a pair of headphones and watched The Royal Tenenbaums.

Halfway through the movie, clarity hit like a lightning strike. Or maybe it was more like a sinking feeling of dread— of being neck deep in quicksand before you realize you should be crawling out.

You couldn’t keep doing this. Because Art was a dream, really. Handsome, and talented, and smarter than you’d expected him to be. And he was so sweet, when he didn’t realize that he should’ve been discouraging your affection. Or maybe he liked it, but only when it was quiet and he didn’t have to acknowledge that what he was doing was wrong.

Maybe it wasn’t wrong and it was all your own fault for wanting someone who made it clear they weren’t emotionally available. Maybe you were pressuring him into something he didn’t want and it was all unfair to him too.

It didn’t matter. It was fucking killing you.

When the movie ended, he stretched and said he’d see you in class. You nodded, smiling the sad smile of a dog unknowingly being left at the pound.

Once the sadness faded, it was replaced with a molten resentment, an anger at him and yourself over your time being wasted. He still sat next to you in class, sneaking peeks of your notes, but you ignored him as best as you could. Days passed, then a week. You started to feel human again.

A couple weekends later, you ignored the text he sent asking for you to join him at a mixer the tennis team was planning on crashing. You ignored the follow up too.

You wound up at a party on the opposite end of campus with a few girls from the service org you were in. You flirted with a new guy, felt like maybe you were worth more than a casual fuck buddy.

So the sight of him sitting at your door when you finally stumbled home was the last thing you wanted to see. All sad, slumped against your door.

He scrambled to stand, expression filled with longing. “Don’t be mad at me,” he pleaded. “I missed you so fucking bad these past few weeks. Felt like I was going crazy.”

Your heart skipped, and hammered against your ribs. You wanted to reach out and kiss that sad, longing expression off his face. You wanted to tell him to leave. It was all very confusing.

“Don’t say that, Art, please,” you said weakly, lips turning down into a frown. You tried to sidestep him, to get the keys into the door, but he pulled you against his chest.

He smelled so nice— like cologne and cinnamon gum. You gave a pathetic sigh at the warmth of him, wrapped all around you. “I missed you,” he repeated. “It’s like a part of me has been missing. I wanted to talk to you so badly, to kiss you, to watch boring movies with you.”

Annoyance and longing bubbled hot in the pit of your stomach, you had to force yourself to push him away. “You just missed having a cheerleader you could fuck whenever you felt like it.”

He frowned. “That’s not true.”

”What’s my major? What’s my favorite place on campus?” He swallowed hard, exhaling sharply through his nose. “What’s my favorite movie?”

“How would I know that?” He asked, resignation flat on his features.

You rolled your eyes. “Because I tell you about it all the time. Because I’ve taken you there. Because I made you watch it. Twice.” You finally got into your room. When you didn’t slam the door, you realized that you were aching for him to follow. You wanted him to be near you, even if you were seething.

When you turned to face him, you hated that even though you were incredibly mad, you still wanted him to just prove you wrong. To convince you that you were being crazy and he was innocent and the only problem was you being a weirdo about your feelings.

God, he was so pretty. And he looked so sad.

“I’ll try to be better,” he said. “I’ll take you on dates, and buy you flowers, and give you what you deserve.”

But you’ll never be his girlfriend. You knew it, deep down. Even as you caved and gave a sweet, sad little nod. He was across the room, holding you against his chest as you felt annoying tears slipping down your cheeks. Tears of relief, of frustration, of resignation.

“I’m not Tashi,” you said when he pressed his lips to the crown of your skull. It was annoying that he had the power to quell all of your uncomfortable emotions with a single romantic gesture. He pulled back and met your gaze, and you softened. “I know she’s always been your first pick, and I don’t blame you, but I’m not ever going to be her, if that’s what you’re waiting on.”

Something passed over his expression, briefly. “I know you’re not.” It was more of a lament than it was an attempt at comfort. “I’m not waiting on anything.”

His lips trailed down, along your jaw, at the corner of your mouth. He pulled back, looking at you expectantly. Are you going to let me?

Your lips parted softly as you kissed him with lips that tasted wet and salty. It was chaste, and sweet. He pulled back and ran his thumb along your cheekbone. “Let me hold you until you fall asleep? Please?”

It was hard to stay mad at Art Donaldson, even when you knew you really should.

Thank you for reading! If you have any requests in the Changeover universe, or otherwise send me an ask :)

[leaderwonim]

𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐘 — eleven: fair-weathered friends

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. lee heeseung x fem!reader, park sunghoon x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. Y/N always knew that her high school was dominated by wealth and privilege. Upon having a one night stand with popular athlete Lee Heeseung, she uncovers that Heeseung's friend group controls not only social dynamics but also school policies and local affairs, revealing a hidden world of power and manipulation behind their so called perfectly polished exteriors

masterlist | previous | next

Heeseung doesn’t know why you’re ignoring him, and he really doesn’t want to know.

He’s afraid he’s fucked up everything again, and that you’re just another person in his life that will walk away because well… you can.

“Hey Giselle,” Heeseung passes by the black haired girl, not knowing whether or not to come closer. He can’t get you alone, so the most he could do is talk to your friend.

“Uhm, yes?” She asks, clearly confused as to why Lee Heeseung of all people wants to talk to her.

She has an itching feeling it has something to do with you, but she won’t say anything about it.

“Why is Y/N upset with me?”

Ah, that confirmed Giselle’s assumptions.

“Well what do you think Heeseung?”

Heeseung has no idea. His palms are starting to sweat and he feels like he’s running out of breath. “I mean—I don’t know, I haven’t done anything.”

And he means it. He hasn’t. Has he?

“The gala, Heeseung. Ring any bells?”

It doesn’t. Not at first. He tries to remember everything that happened at Seojun’s gala. He drove you there, walked you in, then disappeared into the kitchen where he found Hanni.

Fuck, Hanni.

You must’ve seen him and Hanni together and thought something else was happening.

“Was it about me and Hanni? Because I swear nothing happened—”

“Heeseung.” Giselle puts her hand on his shoulder, stabilizing him in place. “I’m not the person you should be saying this to and you know that.”

“I know,” he frowns. “But she just won’t talk to me. What am I supposed to do here, Giselle?”

Giselle lets out a sigh.

“This is only because you’re the nicest out of all of them and I love Y/N.” She says sternly. “Come with me.”

Heeseung follows the girl to the empty corridor on the opposite side of the hallway, his head hung low trying to piece together what you saw that night.

“Explain yourself.” She says as she motions him to sit down across from her.

Heeseung takes a deep gulp, then starts to retrace everything that happened the night of the gala.

Heeseung knows that he shouldn’t give you the dress he bought for Hanni earlier in the year when he thought she was going to attend the gala with him.

It’d be preposterous—but it was a beautiful expensive dress nonetheless, and he’d hate for it to go to waste.

He always thought you looked beautiful in black. The first time he met you, at a party when the both of you were drunkenly dancing to The Smiths, you were wearing a short black dress, one that had him tripping over his own foot.

When you entered the gala with him, he felt on top of the world. He excused himself to get you drinks when he ran into Hanni with Sunghoon.

Of course she was with Sunghoon. In fact, as a final slap to the face to Heeseung, they were even wearing matching outfits.

“Hey,” Sunghoon greets the boy, and Heeseung pretends to be happy because he doesn’t want to ruin the group dynamic.

He’s truly never felt brotherly with Sunghoon, mainly because he felt like the boy was always out to get him. Hanni? She was Sunghoon’s. Top grades? That was also Sunghoon. It was like everything Heeseung tried to do, Sunghoon just beat him by a landslide.

And that just made Heeseung feel real shitty, all the fucking time.

“Can we talk Hanni?”

Heeseung is expecting a fight, at least from Sunghoon. But it’s as if the boy already knows he has won, giving a curt nod to the both of them as some sort of approval. Not like Heeseung needed it—he could do things with or without stupid Park Sunghoon’s approval.

Hanni pulls Heeseung upstairs. She knows Seojun’s gigantic house like the back of her hand. Seojun has always been like a second family to her, and even though the two were competitive hotheads, they loved each other in the way that brothers and sisters do.

“You showed up with her again?”

Hanni says that with such venom that Heeseung feels like he’s disappointed her all over again.

“I mean, what am I supposed to do here Hanni? You want me to wait around for you forever?”

Yes. Everybody knows Pham Hanni gets what she wants, and if she wants Heeseung to wait around forever, then she gets it. But he’s so fucking sick of it, he’s so tired of being around people who only find him beneficial when things are happy and content.

“You’re real classy Heeseung.”

And it feels like a slap in the face because Hanni knows just where to strike Heeseung where it hurts.

When she leaves, he runs after her. He doesn’t know why, but his feet carries him towards her.

He drives her home, the whole ride is silent except for the occasional huffs she lets out to know that she is not happy with him right now.

Heeseung knows Hanni isn’t the nicest girl at Decelis. She’s also not the most humble either, but that doesn’t change the fact that she has a great eye.

She knows designer clothes like the back of her hand, and she’s always flawless. Heeseung just wishes that for once, Hanni would use it to look at him.

“We’re here.” He says, unlocking his door to come over to her side.

“Don’t.” She says, as she unlocks her door by herself. She gets out, head bumping into Heeseung’s chest by how harsh she stands up.

“Hanni, I really don’t want to fight.”

“We’re not fighting.” She says, hand coming into her Miu Miu handbag to get her house keys.

“Hanni, please, just listen to me.”

She doesn’t even look at him, much less acknowledge him.

“I love you.”

That makes her stop shuffling through her bag.

“What?”

“I love you. I love you so much that it hurts.” He lets out a deep breath. “But I’ll never be enough for you, right?”

“Heeseung.”

He’s made it weird. He made it one hundred times worse. Oh God.

“It’s okay, I accept it Hanni. I know he’ll always be first. Sunghoon.”

Hanni doesn’t show any signs of emotions, her face still stoic as ever.

“I’ve tried everything I can to make you notice me. You were my first love Hanni, you were my first everything. I loved you first, not him. But I won’t ever be him, will I? No matter how hard I try, it’ll always be Park Sunghoon, won’t it?” He lets a few tears escape his eyes, wiping them away in a hurry. “I’m fine with that now. I’m fine with it because I don’t want to lose you Hanni. No matter how much it hurts.”

Hanni finally finds her keys, plugging them into her keyhole and opening her front door.

“It wasn’t.” She says slowly.

“What?”

“It wasn’t always Park Sunghoon.”

She doesn’t let Heeseung question her further. “You had too much to drink at Seojun’s so just go home, okay Heeseung? Go home.”

He knows that she knows he didn’t have anything to drink. Hanni knows he would never drive her under the influence. He wouldn’t put her life in danger like that.

He almost wants to fall on his knees at her doorstep when she slams it close, something he would’ve done months ago when he was still so inlove with her.

But he doesn’t. He just sniffles, wiping away the dried tears on his cheeks.

He sees a familiar car pull up, one whose lights shine so brightly that for a brief second, Heeseung’s eyes are blinded.

“Heeseung.”

The owner is nonetheless Park Sunghoon.

“Why are you not at the Gala?” Is the first thing Heeseung blurts out.

“I just drove Danielle home.”

Heeseung rubs his temple, a migraine was starting to formulate in his head.

“Okay, goodnight man.”

Heeseung doesn’t question why Sunghoon shows up at Hanni’s house, mainly because he already knows the answer to his question.

His mind goes back to you, the one person who despite all his flaws, sees right through Heeseung.

Lee Heeseung’s heart had always belonged to Hanni. Ever since he saw her the first time in freshman year when he still had braces on and his hair was all over the place. But now that he’s gotten older, now that he’s grown, he realizes that his heart didn’t belong to her anymore, but it belonged to you, the one person who actually understood Heeseung.

He knew he had to get back to the gala, to find you.

“Where are you going?”

“To Y/N, she’s still at the Gala.”

Sunghoon ears perk up, and he reaches out for Heeseung. “Heeseung, wait—”

“What?”

However, Sunghoon bites back his tongue, retracting away from Heeseung. “Uh, nevermind. Goodnight.”

It was weird, but Heeseung didn’t have time to think about it. He had you to worry about. The girl he actually likes.

“And when I got to the Gala, she was already gone.” Heeseung explains, his head hung low.

Giselle, after hearing Heeseung spill his guts out for the last twenty minutes, is stunned. She never knew how much heartbreak the boy actually went through.

“Come here Heeseung.” The girl says pitifully, opening her arms out to the boy.

He lets out a sob, letting himself melt into the arms of Giselle.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.”

And really, it wasn’t okay. It wasn’t going to be okay until he was able to explain his side of the story to you, but for now, Heeseung will just have to be okay with it.

[marauder-misprint]

Hii, congrats on 200 followers! I was wondering if you could do prompt 47, “I was already yours.” w/ Remus? (No pressure) Thanks! Ur amazing! <3<3

Thank you for the request! ❤︎ I rewrote this in like four different ways. Finally got something I'm happy with! Hope you like this little bit of fluff!

Magnetic

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

1.0k words

cw: fluff

Remus felt like a magnet. He attracted friends who were the opposite of him. He first noticed it with James and Sirius. Their boisterous personalities contrasting his more mellow one. Their ability to be so carefree while he struggled under the weight of how much he cared. And then there was you. Bold. That’s how he would describe you. Like bolding a typeface. You were very ‘in your face’ in a lot of ways. So naturally, he was drawn to you while you seemed to repulse James and Sirius. They didn’t hate you but they didn’t get why Remus liked you so much. You were a magnet in your own sense. The boys from other houses liked to hang you like flies to honey. There was always one who was flirting away with you. You liked the attention but you’d always walk away from them. In all the years Remus knew you, you’d never had a boyfriend. From what he witnessed, you turned down anyone who made a move on you. 

And that was enough for Remus to hold back his feelings for you. If you didn’t give any other boy a second look, why would you give Remus one? The only thing he felt he might have over them was a deep friendship with you. But that’s all it was: friendship. 

You sat down next to him on the couch in the common room. It was just him left as James and Sirius had gone to bed. 

“You know, I’m tired of guys thinking a little flirting is enough to get into my pants.”

Remus raised his eyebrows and looked over at you. You were slumped into the cushions, slouching far enough down that your butt almost hung off the couch. Your grumpy expression shouldn’t have made him smile but it did. He thought it was cute on you. 

“Another suitor turned away?” He asked teasingly. 

“Please, Pickett is anything but a suitor. I do have standards.”

“Impossible ones,” he mumbled, looking away from you. 

Part of him had hoped you hadn’t heard his little comment, but the way you sat up and turned your body toward him said otherwise. 

“What do you mean ‘impossible ones’?”

Remus sunk a little bit into the couch. He was regretting saying anything but he couldn’t take it back now. 

“I’ve known you since first year. You haven’t had a boyfriend and it isn’t like boys are lacking. I’ve never seen you dance with a boy for longer than one song. And… I doubt you’ve even kissed anyone.”

Remus tried to read the look on your face before it shifted to something more like indifference.

“I don’t see why I should waste my time on boys I know won’t make me happy,” you said defensively. “Why should I humor someone to a second dance if they made me want to gag the entirety of the first one?”

Remus shrugs. “Maybe a bad first impression?”

You laughed and squeezed Remus’s cheeks with your hand. 

“You’re cute when you’re optimistic about the boys at this school.”

Trying not to focus on your hands on his face, Remus couldn’t help the heat rising to his face when you called him cute. 

“They can’t all be bad!”

You paused for a moment, letting your hand fall from his face and back into your lap. 

“No, you’re right… Shocker, right?” you laughed. “They aren’t all terrible. But a lot could be better. You can’t argue with me on that.”

Remus draped an arm over the back of the couch so he could turn his body more toward you. 

“Okay, so humor me, okay?”

“Okay…” 

He didn’t miss the hint of hesitancy in your voice.

“What if you gave one of the decent guys a chance?”

You laughed and it made Remus’ heart race. Then you leaned forward.

“The decent guys don’t like me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“They just don’t act interested in me at all. Like they don’t flirt with me. The decent guys don’t like me like that.” 

“That can’t be right,” Remus said, his facial features scrunching in disbelief. “Who do you think is decent? Maybe I’ve heard something that you haven’t.”

“You can’t judge me if I tell you.”

“I’ll judge you if you say Sirius.”

You smiled at him. You wondered how someone so smart could be so dumb sometimes. 

“You’re a decent guy, Remus.”

Time stood still for a moment. You were trying to read each other’s expressions. Remus couldn’t tell if you were being sincere; was there a possibility that you liked him? You tried to understand where his confusion was coming from. Had he not heard you? 

“Remus?” you asked, your voice wavering in a way Remus wasn’t familiar with. “Say something.”

“I’m a decent guy?” he echoed your sentiment quietly.

You let out an amused scoff. “You’re more than a decent guy, Remus. You’re like the whole package… except…”

You looked away from Remus.

“Except?”

“Except you don’t like me like that.”

You felt Remus’ hand on your chin, bringing your face to look at his. He had moved closer to you. 

“Except I do.”

“You do?” you breathe. “But you’ve never flirted with me?”

“I saw you turn away every bloke. What chance did I have?”

“Every chance, you idiot.”

Hoping that he wasn’t playing a joke on you, you leaned in and kissed him. You weren’t one to be cautious, but you were at this moment. You pulled back after a few seconds when your second-guessing thoughts got the better of you, but then Remus chased your lips with his own. His own head was spinning; he couldn’t believe that this was actually happening, that you had kissed him. He couldn’t believe that you confessed to liking him when he had believed he would be taking his crush on you to his grave. When he pulled back this time, you rested your forehead against his.

“So you’ll be mine?��� you ask in a whisper.

“I was already yours,” Remus said softly. “I just wasn’t brave enough to let you know.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Sleepover

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: Bucky sleeps over.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Should be good as new,” Bucky sits back on the footstool and rubs his neck. “Don’t know about me, though.” 

You lean on the counter with a sheepish smile, “I told you, I’d call the landlord.” 

“Uh huh? And try to light this thing in the meantime? You’d set yourself on fire,” he closes the over door and stands. “I like you unsinged, dreamy.” 

“I have a microwave,” you roll your eyes. 

“Oh, you mean the one that sparks and sounds like military tank?” He challenges as he packs up his toolbox. 

“It makes the food hot,” you rebuff. 

“Uh huh. Maybe the radiation is getting to ya,” he teases as he puts the box on the counter. 

He stretches his arms and as he brings them down, he yawns, covering his mouth. He turns his other wrist to check the time. 

“God, it’s late,” he says. 

“Is it--” you choke on your words as you see the time on the stove. “Oh gosh, Buckyyy.” You whine. “You shouldn’t have stayed so long.” 

“And let you burn this place down? You’re going to give me flashbacks. God, I think it was... 1938. Steve was living with his ma still, taking care of her, and he left some newspapers by the stove...” 

“1938...” you echo. “Right, I’m not going to say it.” 

“You better not,” he pokes you in the ribs playfully. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t waste any more of your time. You know, I’ll be just fine walking through the dark. I might get overtime pay if I can wrangle in some hoodlums--” 

“Oh, stop,” you huff, “I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow. I know the couch is a bit small.” 

“Ah, doll, you don’t gotta--” 

“God, you sound like such an old man. ‘Doll, you want a lozenge?’” You mock as you throw your hands up. “Can’t anyone do something nice for you?” 

“What? What do you mean? I’m joshing ya,” he follows you as you spin and march out of the kitchen. 

“Sure, I know. Always a joke with you.” 

“What is this about? The date?” He asks. 

“Well... I thought you’d be more excited,” you shrug. “I was really excited for you. Now I feel like I’m forcing you.” 

“You kinda are,” he leans again the wall as you open the closet, the door blocking him from your view. 

“Forcing you to go out with a sophisticated, gorgeous, woman? I know, it’s torture.” 

“Trust me, I know what torture is. It’s not a joke,” he crosses his arms. You blanch. 

“I-- sorry, I didn’t mean--” you stutter as you kick the door shut. 

He laughs, “got ya again.” He taps the end of your nose then takes the blanket from you. “Relax, I said yes. I’ll put on a tie and comb my hair. Look human.” 

“Awesome,” you smile and he squints. 

“Mm, and you always do that,” he accuses. “Those puppy dog eyes.” 

“I’m more of a cat person,” you giggle. “There’s a pillow on the back of the couch and—oh, want a hot chocolate. I usually have one before bed.” 

“Hot chocolate?” He repeats as he goes to the couch and drops the blanket on top. 

“Sure! I got the oreo stuff.” 

“Nah, I’m good,” he sits and rolls his shoulder. 

“Well, you snooze, you lose. More for me,” you tilt your head and skip back into the kitchen. You flip the kettle on and sweep back into the living room. 

“What about you?” Bucky asks before you can leave him. “You still coming? You find someone?” 

“Oh, I’ll be there but I’m still looking for a date,” you say. “Don’t worry, I got a few ideas.” 

“Right, lined up the block, huh?” 

You stick your tongue out and flit into the bedroom, “whatever.” 

You close the door behind you and change into your pajamas. The fluffy pink shorts go perfectly with the tee with the bunny on the front. You step into your slippers and go back out. 

As you come out, Bucky pushes his hair back and groans. He has his shirt off as he sits back and pushes his arms wide. He cracks his neck again as your eyes meet. 

“Last call for hot chocolate?” You offer. 

“No thanks,” he says as he leans forward. 

You smile and scurry into the kitchen. The tension rises with the steam of the kettle. You weren’t expecting to see him like that. Well, it’s just his chest and his abs. Abs? He has abs. Holy moly.  

You look down and poke your pudge. Maybe he can give you some tips. You peel back the lid from the canister of chocolate powder; a start would be cutting down on the sweets. 

The hardwood shifts and his footsteps circles around to the kitchen door. You glance over as you spoon the mix into a mug. You put the lid back on and shove the can back into the cupboard. 

“Water?” He asks. 

“Sure, fridge,” you point. 

The kettle clicks and you take it of its heater. You pour and glance over as Bucky pulls open the fridge. He bends to search the mostly bare shelves. You’re overdue for a shop. 

“The jug should be--” the water laps over the side of the mug and hits your fingers. “Ow! Ayeee!” 

You slam the kettle down and shake your hand. Bucky’s so fast, you squeal as he grabs you and spins you to face the sink. He flips the cold water on and shoves your hand under the flow. You whine again at the frigid splash. 

“Ah, Bucky, I’m fine. It’s just a little water,” you tug but he keeps a hold of you. 

“I told you to be careful,” he huffs. “You should pay attention.” 

“I was trying to help,” you say. 

“And I’m tryna help you stay outta trouble,” he reproaches. 

“I’m okay. Really, it’s nothing.” You shut off the tap and wriggle free of his grasp. “See?” 

The burn stings but it’s nothing you can’t handle. You’re more affected by his suddenness. You can feel his hard strength throbbing in your wrist. If he didn’t want to let go, he wouldn’t have to. That thought needles behind your ears. 

He drops his shoulders, “sorry, dream. Really. I was just... you scared me, you know? I hear ya make those noises and I get a bit... uptight.” 

You exhale and give a small smile, “no, I... appreciate it. I mean, you can’t turn hero mode off, can ya?” 

He chuckles and the air thins, “yeah. Guess that’s what you can call it.” 

[moonchild9350]

Your Sweet Angel

Summary: Your days are long, you’re a mess, your mind all over the place. But things can change with the help of an angel, a light in your dark life.

Pairing: fantasy au Felix x fab reader

Genre: smut 18+MDNI

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: dubcon I guess? I mean consent is given eventually ha. Coercion, nipple play, p in v penetration, creampie (don’t), mystical being?, stalkish. Let me know if I missed anythingl

Notes: idk where this came from lol. The thoughts that run through my mind late at night when I should be sleeping. I just had to write it down lol. This is lightly edited so please excuse any typos!

If you like let me know! Likes, comments, reblog always appreciated ♡

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

It was a difficult day, from the moment your day began. You overslept, the traffic caused your head to hurt, your coworkers testing your patience. Yeah, it’s definitely been a tough day.

To clear your mind you decided to take a walk, breathing in the cool, night air, the moon shining brightly in the sky, the stars illuminating your path. You walked and walked, humming a random song to yourself, your hands in your pockets.

Before you knew it, you found yourself at the park, darkness settling in, with the glow of the lamps providing a soft light. You decided to walk through, safety be damned, you didn’t care about anything at this point.

You made your way along the path, your mind clearing more and more with each step. However, about half way through, you heard a voice. The voice was singing, the song ethereal in the night air.

Looking up you saw a man sitting on the ledge of one of the walls lining the pathway. He was gorgeous, angelic almost in the lightening. He seemed to be swaying with the music only he could hear. You looked closer and noticed his eyes were closed, a soft smile spread across his face.

You stepped up to him and just watched and listened, enjoying his voice and the serenity of the moment. Eventually the song must have finished, because he stopped swaying and opened his eyes, the dark orbs finding yours in the darkness

He smiled, the action traveling to his eyes, as he beckoned you forward with his tiny hands. You shouldn’t go near him, the alarms in your head going off, but you couldn’t help it. You slowly made your way to the mysterious man, stopping before him.

You were able to take in his face more and how beautiful was it. His eyes looked up at you with such softness, freckles littering his face.

“Hi, I’m Felix,” the man said.

You were nervous, your voice stuck in your throat. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You blushed in embarrassment, your eyes falling to your feet. Why were you still here? You were definitely ignoring all thoughts of stranger danger, but you couldn’t move. It felt like you were under a spell.

“Don’t be shy,” Felix said, flashing his soft smile again.

“I’m…I’m y/n.”

“Hi y/n,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

At his words you looked up, confusion on your face.

“You’ve been waiting for me?” You asked, cocking your head to the side.

“Mmhmm, I have.” Felix said. “And now you’re here. Let’s go, we have no time to waste, time is running out.”

You were confused by his words. Time is running out? What does that mean? However, you didn't get no other explanation. Instead, Felix reached out his hand to you, beckoning you to take it.

You hesitated for a moment, but after a few moments, felt calm, and took his hand in yours. Felix smiled his warm smile once more and gave your hand a squeeze. You blinked and before you knew it, you were in a different location.

You were shocked so to say. You were just at the park, outside at that, but now you were in a little room. Startled you looked around, taking in your surroundings. You noticed there was a soft light bathing the room, not enough to light the whole space, but enough to see your way around.

There was a bed in the middle of the room, the sheets seeming inviting and warm. Felix watched your every move, taking in your beauty. He has been waiting for you and here you are, in the flesh.

You saw Felix step to you in the corner of your eyes, a calming sensation falling over you. Felix brushed his hand across your cheek, his fingers light and delicate on your skin.

“Let’s go to bed love,” he said, his voice deeper than it had been.

You nodded your head, following the strange man to the bed. He looked you in the eyes and smiled before gently pushing you back, causing you to lay down. You sighed as the soft sheets hit your back, the feeling heavenly.

Looking above you, you watched as Felix hovered above you before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips. You were shocked at first before you relaxed, more of that calming sensation washing over you.

You met his lips again and again, his soft lips molding perfectly with yours. Before you knew it you had your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling the strange man ever closer to you.

He grinned against your lips. “Let me take care of you love. I’ve been waiting so long for this moment.”

You nodded your head yes, wanting…no needing more of this man. You pressed your lips against his in one moment and the next you felt his warm skin against yours, as both his and your clothes were gone.

That shocked you a little, a question forming on your lips. Felix seemed to see your internal struggle and pulled you closer, as he pressed more sweet kisses along your cheek, your jaw, and moving down to your chest.

Your question was forgotten as you felt his warm mouth wrap around your nipple. You cried out as he licked and nipped the sensitive bud as he gently caressed your other breast. Your pleasure felt heightened more than usual, causing you to cry out, your slick gushing out of your pussy.

Felix was happy, listening to your cries of pleasure, happy he could satisfy you. He’s waited so long after all, carefully watching you, waiting for the perfect moment. He couldn’t wait, not a moment more.

You felt Felix shift, as he sat up and parted your legs wider, spreading them so he could see you better. He smiled down at you, his freckles dancing with each pull of skin, making him seem more beautiful then ever.

“Ready love?” He asked, grabbing his cock in his hands, stroking the hard member.

You gulped, unsure of when he became naked, his beautiful body bared for your viewing pleasure. You nodded your head without thought, your body seeming to work on autopilot.

Felix grinned before pushing his cock into your warm walls, stretching you out with each inch. You gasped at the sensation, never feeling more full in your life. You moaned in pleasure as he rocked against you, his hair falling onto his face, obscuring his beautiful features.

You reached up as he thrust into you, brushing his hair out of the way and grasping his face. You stared into his eyes as he brought you to ecstasy, his cock hitting all the right spots within you. You took in every expression, every detail of the man above you, watching as his eyebrows scrunched up with each thrust, his grunts getting more pronounced as time went on.

Little did you know, Felix was taking you in as well. He was lost in your eyes, the pleasure evident as he felt your walls wrap around his cock again and again. He reveled in your embrace, your hands delicately gripping his face. He could look at you forever, your beauty unmatched to anyone he’s come across. He wanted to make sure you felt his love, his undying love for you…even if you had no clue who is was.

As Felix continued to thrust into you, you felt a change, a subtle change. You felt a warm feeling deep within your belly. It steadily grew as moments passed, spreading to your thighs and down to your toes. Each thrust of Felix’s cock, the appendage kissing your cervix, caused your body to tingle.

Felix locked eyes with you and opened his mouth to speak. “Cum for me love, become mine.”

You let out a loud moan at his words, the warm feeling intensifying, causing your ears to ring and vision go white. Your pussy clenched around his cock, your walls fluttering as you ride out your high.

Felix was enamored with you, the sight before him everything he’s dreamed of. He let go, his warm cum painting your walls white, filling you to the brim. He leaned down to kiss you, his lips lingering on yours for a few more moments.

“Thank you love,” Felix whispered as he withdrew his now softened cock.

You felt sleepy, your eyes growing heavy as you laid bare before him, his cum seeping from your walls and onto the sheets. You couldn’t keep you eyes open, as you drifted off, the last sight you saw was Felix gazing down at you lovingly…and with a hint of sadness?

You couldn’t think, not anymore as you succumbed to sleep, your mind empty as you slumbered.

“Until next time love,” Felix said.

He knew you couldn’t hear him. He didn’t want you to, so he made sure you were calm enough to fall asleep into a deep slumber. He placed one last kiss on your forehead vowing to find you again.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You woke with a start, your eyes wide as you set up in bed. You looked around in confusion. You were back in your room, tucked into your bed, wearing your favorite pajamas.

But wait…that can’t be right. You were with a man…right? And definitely not here in your room. Where was the man? Didn’t you sleep with him? What was his name again?

You tried hard to remember last night, but nothing came to you, your mind fuzzy. Maybe it was a dream. Yeah, definitely a dream you thought.

You got ready for the day as usual, hoping today would be better. As you made your way to work, you hummed a little song. You’d heard it recently, someone else singing it at first. You’re not sure where you heard it, but it stuck in you.

As you hummed and pulled into the parking lot, you felt calm all of a sudden. Your mind was quiet, the thoughts that usually crowd it at this time of day gone. You didn’t complain though, happy for the quiet. You walked to the doors of the building and opened them, making your way to your office.

You didn’t see the man, watching you from afar, keeping his distance. He smiled as he saw you happily walk into work. He was happy he finally was able to meet you, to be with you. Now that you’re in his grasp, he isn’t letting you go. Your his just as much as he’s yours.

He’ll visit you again, it won’t be long. Now that he has a taste of you, he can’t stay away. But that’s for another day. With the breeze of the wind, the trees swaying around him, the man disappeared, into thin air. Maybe one day he’ll get to reveal his true self to you, but until then he’ll keep visiting you, making sure you’re happy with every day that passes.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 11] A Better Man

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Shiu… To what do I owe this pleasure?” You open the door to your apartment to find your ex-husband’s old friend. You have no contact with the man, therefore you have no idea why he stands in front of you. He holds a pink gift bag, making you assume that he’s brought a gift for the baby, but why? Then you remember you have a very persistent ex-husband that’s very good friends with the man that stands before you. “What does Toji want? He can just call me, he has my number– For fuck’s sake, you have my number.”

“I’m just here to drop off a gift for my niece.” Shiu says, holding up the bag. He’s not here just for that, and you know it but you won’t drag out an interrogation, demanding an answer from him. Instead, you take the bag from his hand and begin to close the door in his face. He stops the door before it’s shut right in his face, “Not so fast.”

“So you’re not just dropping off a gift?” You tilt your head to the side, slowly blinking your eyes to play dumb. Shiu sighs, shaking his head. He doesn’t like to admit that he's here on behalf of Toji… Well, Toji did ask him to come but Shiu isn’t exactly trying to push the agenda that Toji urged him to.

“Can I come in or not?” Shiu asks, and you take a moment to think about it– Well, you pretend to take a moment to think about it, wasting a couple of precious seconds of his life. Instead of answering, you move to the side to allow him in. 

Shiu takes off his shoes when he steps into the apartment. He hadn’t been here since he helped you move in, and it’s nice to see how the place has been transformed into an apartment that screams your name. He almost laughs at the fact that everything looks babyproofed, even when it’s too early for it. He knows you don’t have that much time in your hands to do it all, so it’s clear what your priority is.

“What did Toji tell you to do?” You question when Shiu sits on your couch, putting the gift bag on your coffee table. Shiu is biting his tongue, not wanting to answer the question immediately. 

“Can’t I just come around to check up–” He begins, but you cut him off before he can finish his claim. You swear you’ll roll your eyes so far back into your head that you’ll be able to see your brain if he claims that he isn’t here on behalf of Toji.

“Be serious with me.” You respond, as Shiu’s hands go to his knees. He takes a deep breath before nodding his head. 

“He wants me to convince you to move in with him since he claims that’s the best course of action since you’re having a baby and all.” He tells you, making you scoff. Toji just doesn’t know when to drop something, you never realized how persistent he can be while you were married. Maybe because Toji didn’t even try. “I’m honestly here just to say I showed up.”

“Then why did you insist on coming in?” You reply, and Shiu sits in silence. How does he answer honestly and fast without prying. Shiu doesn’t want to build a case for Toji but at the same time, he does have a lot to say in support of him. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable either. “Just say it.”

“Toji’s a tough person to be with but he does love you.” Shiu says, and you click your tongue. You’ve heard the argument a million times, and you’re never convinced. Even if he does love you, you’re never getting back with him.

“Why do you bring this up?” You ask him. “I mean, I thought you weren’t going to try anything but here you are, telling me that Toji does love me.”

“I’m not trying to convince you of anything, he does love you and I’m just bringing it up.” Shiu argues, and you hold back on sighing. You keep your irritation to yourself, wanting to seem neutral about all of this.

“Okay, what’s the point of it?” You respond, wanting this conversation to be over. You shouldn’t have to explain to him that trying to be convinced that you should get back with your ex is a rather bothersome topic. 

“You two are expecting a daughter, if you actually want to get back with him don’t feel guilty.” He tells you, and you chuckle. Did he really just say that? You wonder if you would feel guilty if you got back together with him, but for what reason would you?

“I appreciate it, Shiu, but I have no plans on getting back with him. Do I really need to tell you how horrible it was to be married to him for you to stop helping him?” You try to sound nonchalant about it all, but the annoyance peeks through your voice. Shiu feels the need to disagree with you, even though he’s helping him in a way.

“I’m not helping him.”

“Then what are you doing?” You question, making the man suck his bottom lip between his teeth. He’s quiet. He doesn’t know how to answer because you’re right. He is helping Toji.

“I guess I am.” He answers. He lets out a sigh, standing up from the couch, beginning his walk to the front door since the reason for his visit has come to an end. “It’s just weird to see Toji so miserable… He’s trying really hard to get something he wants and his efforts are in vain.”

“Toji needs to learn that he can’t get everything he wants. I gave him many chances, and he took them for granted. I shouldn’t be expected to give him another chance simply because he realized he can’t have me anymore.” You argue, and Shiu can’t say anything back because you’re right. He doesn’t know the extent of your issues with Toji, therefore he shouldn’t say more.

He opens the front door and waves at you, and before he can say anything else to you, you say, “Please don’t come around if you’re just coming here for Toji, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Hope you like the gift.” Shiu says before walking out. You don’t hesitate before closing the door. You roll your eyes as you walk to the coffee table to get the bag.

You find the cutest hat inside of the bag, which nearly makes you squeal. You should text him and thank him, but you’ll hold off on it. You’re reasonably upset. You have enough to deal with Toji, you don’t need a third party getting involved simply because he’s Toji’s friend.

For a moment you thought that Shiu would remain neutral in all of this, just now do you realize just how foolish you were. Shiu is Toji’s friend, not yours.

You smile like a schoolgirl when you get a delivery of flowers early in the morning. You’re excited for the lucky person that’s going to be met with flowers this morning. You ask who they’re for, and it takes you by surprise when he says your name. You sign for the flowers and are quick to look for a note.

You don’t really need to ask who they’re from, you know they’re from Toji. You find the note, one that makes you smile even brighter. You hate that it does, but finally getting the attention that you’ve been lacking from him makes you feel accomplished. He makes sure to compliment you in every way possible in such a small note. 

And just as you put the note away, you receive a message from him, asking you to lunch. You have to take a deep breath, putting the phone down for a minute to not seem too excited. You won’t let a beautiful bouquet of flowers change your mind. You try to seem as unenthusiastic as possible when you accept his invitation.

Toji picks you up at the office, but unlike other times, he doesn’t get out of his car to go to you. You can only assume it has something to do with your supervisor, but regardless, it’s none of your business. Toji is a single man, what he does with other women is no longer your matter, as much as it fills you with jealousy.

“There you are.” Toji gets out of the car to open the door for you. He makes sure to compliment you more, “You’re glowing today. You’re stunning.”

“Thank you, Toji.” You respond as he opens the car door. You get in, and he runs to the driver’s side to not keep you waiting. 

He begins the short drive to the restaurant he picked out for lunch, making light chatter. He’s asking you about you and how you’re feeling, and you give him short dry answers. He’s really trying, and you feel bad for doing this to him– But he deserves it.

You get to the restaurant, and the first thing you notice is how nice it is. He’s going all out on you, and it’s hard not to be happy. You dreamt of this for years, and you’re finally getting it when you have no need for it.

“Thank you for the flowers, Toji. They’re beautiful.” You bring up when you’re seated at a table. You don’t want lunch to be as awkward as the car ride.

“I’m glad you like them.” He responds, a shy smile on his lips. Who would’ve thought bouquets would be so expensive, he wouldn’t dare bring up the price though. “Also… Sorry about Shiu.”

“Let’s not talk about him please.” You tell him, and Toji nods in response. Of course you wouldn’t like to talk about that.

You’re looking at the menu, deciding what’s most appetizing at the moment. Something that won’t make you sick to your stomach. While you focus on that, Toji tries his best to think of something that’ll catch your attention. There’s only one thing that you can talk about for hours, and that’s the baby.

He clears his throat, “Anzu is a cute name.”

“Huh?” You look up at him, a sparkle in your eyes when you hear him. “I love the name! But I’m not sure, I have to keep looking at my options.”

“Of course, we have time. But I heard the name not too long ago and I love it.” Toji agrees. You begin to talk about baby names, and he finds himself getting excited. It’s hard not to get excited when you’re clearly over the moon because of this. “I hope we can come to a decision before she’s born.”

“Do you think she’ll be born before or after Megumi’s birthday?” You ask as your hand goes to your bump. Toji takes a moment to think about it.

“On his birthday.” Toji answers, and you hope that isn’t the case. You wish Toji can celebrate his son’s birthday without an issue. “How are you holding up though? Is everything okay?”

“Why do you mainly ask about me and not the baby? Aren’t you excited?” Your question comes from pure curiosity. You swore Toji was getting excited about her, but his questions are only to you, very rarely about the baby. Toji clears his throat before answering,

“I’m excited. I am. But you’re my main priority.” You raise your brows, a bit taken back by his response. “You were my wife first, and you always will be. My priorities will shift when she comes along, but she isn’t here yet.”

He’s choosing the right words, making you foolishly smile. He’s doing things right today, and if he keeps doing them like this, you might reconsider the decision that you’ve made.

But you remind yourself that you could’ve had this husband for years, but he chose not to be. Regardless you smile,

“You’re right. Thank you, Toji.”

[yinemw]

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮'𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬

context: coloring Satoru’s eyelashes like the rainbow 🌈 (gender neutral reader)

warnings: none, just fluff

character: Gojo Satoru from JJK

m.list

“You love me, right?”

Gojo immediately hummed at your question, chewing his mochi as he entered the kitchen. Placing the packaging of the other treats he had bought for the both of you on his way home.

“That means you’ll let me do anything to you, right?”

“I’m both intrigued and scared of where you’re taking this” he raised an eyebrow, taking a seat next to you and placing a kiss to your forehead like he always did when he got home. “But sure, I’m yours, do whatever you want” he shrugged, knowing he was fully devoted to you. There wasn’t a task in the world he wouldn’t do if it made you happy.

“Great!” You smile, taking ahold of his hand and dragging him to the bathroom. His unfinished mochi almost falling to the floor from the sudden pull. A muffled yell escaping his lips as he chewed the rest of the sweet treat.

“I kinda like you manhandling me like this” he smirked after you had physically lifted the 6’3 man onto the bathroom counter. Reaching out your hand to wipe away the powdered sugar on his lips before starting to rummage through the cupboard “But shouldn’t I be the one standing for this?”

“You’ve got the wrong idea” you wave your hand in the air, practically bouncing on your heels from the excitement. “I’m coloring your lashes” finally you find the mascaras you had bought a few days ago online, the colors ranging from a deep blue to a vibrant yellow.

“You’re doing what now?” He took off his sunglasses, white lashes and ocean blue eyes taking your breath away each time. “When did you even get these? I’m with you all the time, I don’t remember you ever ordering these” he picks up the pink mascara with his slender fingers, inspecting it closer.

“Remember the day you bet Suguru you could eat more mochi’s then him? And you passed out after the sugar rush?”

“No…”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought” you giggle, opening the green mascara and giving it a few pumps to see the color. “This will work so well on your lashes Toru, I’ll just need to use a smaller brush to color each section of your eyelashes the different colors” you think out loud, already searching for said brush.

Satoru was patiently sitting on the counter, feet dangling back and forth like a small child. He loved seeing you so happy and passionate about something, especially if it involved him.

“Ah-ha! Found one!” No time was wasted before you opened each mascara tube, taking a little of the color on the brush and starting to section Satoru’s lashes by color.

“What’s wrong?” He asks after a few seconds, seeing the frown between your browns. Your hands carefully holding his head in place as you worked slowly.

“I don’t think I’ve been this close to your eyeball before, it’s distracting” you mumble, biting your lower lip as a habit of concentration. Adding the red color over his lashes. Soon enough there wasn’t a trace of the pearly white color of his long lashes.

Storu lets out a snicker, placing his large hands on your hips to pull you even closer. Trapping you between his legs. All he could do was watch your concentrate as he tried to keep as still as possible, knowing you’d get all pouty if he made you mess up your masterpiece.

It took a few minutes, but you finished eventually. Placing the brush back down on the counter and letting satoru jump down. “Personally, I think I did a great job” you say proudly, watching as Satoru bats his eyelashes in the mirror. Who could blame him, he looked even prettier than usual with his rainbow lashes. “I don’t even care if you like it or not, this is not the last time I’m doing this”

“We should do my hair next”

“What?!”

He turns around to look back at you, such a genuine and almost childlike smile on his lips. “We should color my hair rainbow!”

Your jaw was practically on the floor, because how was he reading your mind? He wants you to color his hair rainbow? Willingly? He will let you? “And put a bow in it?”

“And put a bow in it!”