#Everyone's already seen these pictures but here they are again

[johnlennon-as-a-tv-chef]

Nothing, just Alex being a soft boi with men.

(Credit to the owners of the pics. I just scavenged them from around the internet.)

#Everyone's already seen these pictures but here they are again #i need a compilation of them in one place for personal reasons #i'm going to miss this man so much #how are we all doing #alex turner #milex

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 !! ❞

❝ WHEN YOUR EX HUSBAND FINDS OUT YOU'RE DATING AGAIN, HOW DO YOU END UP FUCKING HIM IN YOUR BED ?? ❞

✧ pairing: ex-husband!satoru gojo x f!reader

✧ summary: satoru gojo is the man everyone wants, except you -- well you married him and you wanted him, but when he pushed you away after you had your daughter, you had no choice but to divorce him. so what happens when he comes to pick up your daughter for his weekend, and he finds you ready for a date? and how is it you always end up under him?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, exes to lovers, modern au! (no curses), gojo is a CEO of a company, gojo has a daughter with you, divorced, some angst, switch! gojo, nipple play, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi public sex (near entryway), semi exhibitionism, sex (p in v), creampie, swearing,

✧ wc: 8,271

“You were supposed to be here at 6:00 PM,” 

Satoru Gojo stood in your doorway, as opposed to splashed on the covers of magazines and countless front page articles — you would think it would be business magazines, but you would only be partially correct — he made the covers of business, fashion, health, entertainment, and even a few women’s magazines. 

And what every single one had made apparent in their colorful print was that Satoru Gojo was anyone’s ideal man — the CEO of the wildly successful Six Eyes Corp, a philanthropist in his free time spent mentoring children and teenagers through establishing proper programs, and he was flawlessly beautiful — ocean blue eyes you could drown in, porcelain skin seemingly without a blemish or scar, and pretty lips that were a weapon when curled in a smirk. 

Just as they were now. 

“Well,” he smirks, leaning against your door frame, “I’m sure it’s 6:00 PM somewhere,” 

“Well, I’m not concerned with somewhere else since you daughter exists here, not elsewhere,” your words lacked their usual bite, only tinged with annoyance rather than cutting anger, “but good thing I told you to be here an hour and half earlier than I needed you,” 

Needed him as just as you did before you had divorced — just as you asked him to be. But he only grew more distant by the day — and soon he was already out the door when you had served him with divorce papers. 

And now, you can almost forget how it used to be — your eyes catch sight of the picture on your mantle of the two of you with your daughter, Satoru’s lips pressed to your cheeks as yours were pressed to your little angel — almost. 

He gapes at you as you walk inside, as he follows behind you, the click of the door closing overshadowed by the sound of his voice. 

“How could you lie to me, sweetheart? Thought we had a bond of trust,” you don’t have to look back at him to know he has a pout on his lips that would quickly melt into a grin if you conceded. 

“Bond of trust ended when you showed up two hours late to pick up our daughter,” and he grumbles, cheeks tinged with pink. 

“That was one time! I’m never that late. And it’s only on a Fridays when I have—“ 

“Meetings all day,” you finish with a sigh, “I know, Gojo, I know it’s not on purpose — but I know you’re always late on Fridays so I found a solution,” your lips curl, “anyway, our girl is napping still, so give her a bit before you wake her, but you can stay here until she does,” you’re shrugging off your bathrobe, littered with flecks of makeup, only to have a gorgeous black dress underneath. 

One that he very much hadn’t seen before — and he would know, he’s explored every centimeter very intimately of each one of your dresses, but this is new. His eyes skim down the exposed skin of your thighs — very new, but very familiar. 

He’s running fingers through his hair, not bothering to hide how his gaze rakes over his body, “Special occasion? Don’t tell me your birthday suddenly moved months, or I forgot our anniversary,” 

You scoff, as you pick out earrings from your jewelry box,  “Does an anniversary count when you’re divorced?” you can’t hide the hint of bitterness in your voice, and he’s stepping closer as you look in your vanity to put your earrings on, only to meet his gaze in the mirror, deep blue sucking you in as it always does. 

“But you’ll always be mine,” and you roll your eyes, expecting a cheeky grin, but find genuine longing in his expression, before it's hidden away behind a frown, “but you still haven’t told me where you’re going, sweetheart,” 

A sigh stuck in your throat, ignoring the use of your usual pet name that he had lost the rights when the ink dried on your divorce, as your teeth graze your bottom lip, “I have a date tonight,” 

He tilts his head, “A date?” and you can already hear it in his voice — ice creeping over usually still waters, “who’s the lucky guy? And do I get to meet him?” 

“And have you scare him off?” And he only grins in reply, hands slipping into his pockets. 

“If he’s intimidated by me, isn’t that more on him than me, sweetheart?” His footsteps only grow closer, as you turn to look at him, his hand on the wood of your vanity, nearly caging you in on side, “after all, he may be your date, but I’ll always be your husband, and the father of our daughter,” 

You didn’t know whether you wanted to kiss him or slap him — slapping him was self explanatory, but the want to kiss him was a lingering feeling, one that you couldn’t shed — no matter how much time passed. But that was the thing about Satoru Gojo — it was easy to fall in love with him, but even harder to fall out. 

And a part of you could never admit to yourself that you never did. 

No matter how hard you try.

“You haven’t been my husband for a year and half now, Gojo — a year legally now,” 

And he’s changing tactics, “You still haven’t answered my question, who are you going on a date with?” And you already can feel the beginning of a headache throbbing in your forehead, and you know why no one could say no to Satoru Gojo — because you’re sure he’s never understood it. 

“Why do you need to know?” And he's tilting his head, a small scoff parting his lips. 

“I need to know who you're potentially bringing home, don’t I?” and he’s far too close, and you don’t know why you’re not pulling away — his breath warming your skin, as he drags a finger down your cheek, “The man who might step foot in our home, might meet our daughter,” and his thumb brushes over your lips, “might kiss my wife—“ 

“Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects you. 

You rub at your temples — yup, you definitely have a headache now. You brush past him, heading to the living room to pick up some of the mess, hoping your ex would somehow fall and hit his head on the doorframe and forget this conversation.

“And this dress?” Ah, no such luck, “did you buy it for the date?” 

“Do you keep a catalog of my wardrobe?” you scowl as you pick up the strewn about toys and things to collect into your daughter’s toy bin, and he’s bending down too to pick up your daughter’s things in his hundred thousand yen suit. 

“So you didn’t deny it,” and you sigh again, but grit your teeth all the same, his sharp words finely grating on your nerves. 

“This isn’t a business negotiation, you don’t win just because you use my words against me,” you stand up after picking up the last of the things, “yes it’s a new dress, and yes I bought it for the date since this is my first date in years, happy?” 

“Thrilled,” he says flatly, and you know it’s not the end of the discussion, “remember our first date?” 

And how could you forget? But you decide to humor him, if only for a break from the interrogation. 

“Which one? Because one was a date, and the other—“ 

He raises an eyebrow, “It was a date too, I asked you out—“ 

“You asked me to hang out—“ 

“And we kissed—“ 

“Only because I told you how I felt first—“ and he smirks again and you know you’ve dug yourself into a hole, cheeks burning at his stupidly smug face, “shut up,” 

“And what did you say again?” He slips the things you have in your hands into the toy box, his fingers brushing yours, and his touch is the same as you remember, even the barest brush was enough for your traitorous soul to yearn for more. 

“You know what I said,” his lips curl, the same smile he had given you all those years ago that made you fall for him in the first place, but his raise of his brow tells you he’s not going to let it go until you say it, “I told you that I liked you for a long time, and I was tired of waiting for you to make the first move. Because maybe by then it would be too late,” and his fingers brush against your cheek, featherlight — just as the bunches of butterflies that bloom in your stomach. 

“And you say that wasn’t a date,” and you scoff, biting back the small smile on your lips, “will any other first date compare to that?” 

“Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you know his brow is furrowed without having to look at him, “do you have to call me by my last name—“ 

“I do, because Satoru was my husband, and Gojo is my ex—“ 

“I’m still your husband—“ and you give a bitter chuckle. 

“In what world? We’re divorced, it’s over,“ 

“It doesn’t have to be,” 

“But it does. This isn’t me confessing to you on a movie night curled up on my twin bed. This is my ex-husband asking me to give him another chance far too late,” you slip past him, but he follows behind anyway, as you stand near the entryway to your home,  “it’s time to move on,” and you’re stepping from your bedroom and only reach the doorway when he speaks. 

“How can I move on when I never wanted to?” You still yourself in your tracks, fingers curling into a fist. 

Not this right now. Not now. “Gojo—“ you sigh. 

You’re so tired. You were hoping you wouldn’t have to have this conversation. You never had expected to have this conversation, not when you wanted to only marry one man your entire life was the one to break your heart. 

“It's almost two years too late for this conversation,” you willed your voice not to break — not when your heart was long broken by him, and you wouldn’t allow him to do it again, “you should have had it with me before I filed. When I asked you to spend your time with us, when I asked you to take time off, when I asked you to be present in our lives—“ 

“Sweetheart-“ and you snap. 

“Don’t call me that,” your quiet words hang in the silence, the wedding bells he heard in his head were nothing more than the sounds of bells drowning out the mourners screams, “don’t call me that when you don’t get to anymore,” 

“I’ll always be yours, sweetheart, a few papers don’t change that,” and he’s stepping towards you, but you’re rooted to your spot, and you want to say it’s stubbornness, but you know what it really is —weakness, because Satoru Gojo was your one and only weakness. And even now, walls raised and erected against him came tumbling down with one touch. 

Because he knew exactly where to touch and what to say. 

“Do you think any other man could please you the way I can? I know every place, every sound, every inch of you — inside and out,” he’s nearly against your back now, “are you going to let a stranger do that? Let them learn how to please you, but knowing your husband knows how to do it better,” 

“Ex-husband,” and he’s leaning down to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, “we shouldn’t—“ 

“And yet you’re letting me,” his nose brushes against the soft skin of your neck, warm breath sending a shiver down to the tips of your toes, and his words sending a wave of need right to your core, “because you know it’s true,” his hands tentatively brush against your hips and when you don’t resist, he squeezes, drawing a gasp from you, lips curled in a smirk, “more sensitive than usual, Princess? Been too long?” 

“I swear to god—“ he’s cutting you off with a bruising kiss, a rubber band snapping back against your skin, and now it’s taut against you, ensnaring you in its grasp. And yet, his kiss is so sweet, affection dripping from the slide of lips to the caress of his fingers against your cheek, and it reminds you of just why you don’t want to let go. 

“You don’t have to swear yourself to me, but I’d appreciate it, Princess,” and his mouth reminds you of the reason you (and that you don’t). 

“Gojo—“ and he’s placing more kisses along your jaw now. 

“Shouldn’t you at least call me Satoru now that we’ve kissed?” 

“You’re impossible—“ 

“And yet I’m here,” his teeth nibbles at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, tongue flicking over the blooming love bite, “almost forgot how sweet you taste,” he’s humming, as he kisses along your shoulder before he toys with the strap of your dress, “almost,” his large palms slide down your body, skimming your bare thighs as he’s pressing you against the walls, “but your skin isn’t what I want to taste,” 

You gasp, “we can’t—“ but why were you letting him? Irritation overrode by lust, and he knew the spots to make you bend to him, his hands squeezing your hips, “fuck you,” you wonder if his touch are phantoms engraved against your skin and muscles, forced to repeat the same patterns again and again — and a hand slides back up to cup your cheek. 

“That’s what I’m trying to do, sweetheart,” his lips find yours again, his tongue dragging against the seam of your lips, before slipping inside. His hand is lifting your thigh around his waist, as his lips part from your own, eyes raking over your pretty, bitten red lips, “do you know how much I missed you?” 

“No, I don’t,” and his smile slips from his lips, as he cups your chin, “Satoru—“ 

“Even all the days I was gone, there wasn’t a second I didn’t think of you,” you waver a moment at the sadness rippling through his gaze, “I know I wasn’t there—“ his lips press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Why weren’t you?” 

And that’s when there’s a knock at the door that makes your heads snap over to stare at the door a good four or five feet from you, the shadow of feet visible through the crack at the bottom of the door, and you were sure it was your date. 

“Fuck,” you whsiper under your breath, “you have to go—“ your palms pressed flat against his chest, but Satoru doesn’t budge, “please, I have to get the—“ 

And his hand is slipping up and under your dress, hiking the material higher, “do you really want to go on your date like this, sweetheart?” His fingers graze your soaked panties, a gasp pulled from your lips, lithe fingers rubbing and pinching your clit through the thin fabric, “gonna go see him when you’re this wet?”

“Please—“ and his fingers snap the elastic of your underwear against your skin, drawing a squeal from your mouth, “fuck—“ 

“Any louder, Princess, and he might hear us,” he’s leaning down to press his forehead to yours, forcing your gaze to meet yours, “but maybe I should let him, let him know who’s the only one who can make you feel this good,” his words only make your cunt flutter, as if your body was in agreement, even if your mind was still in denial, “you’re much more honest down here, Princess, but you always were,”

Another knock as your attention is being tugged only for him to yank it back as his finger slips inside you. You’re burying your face in the crook of his neck to stifle your moans — his fingers were so much longer than yours, reaching places you could only have dreamed of — when you had dreamed of him. 

His finger squelches as he fucks you open, walls squeezing around him as your molten insides cling to his touch desperately. Small whines and pants are muffled against your hand as you clamp it over, your phone vibrating uselessly with your date’s messages inside your purse. 

“Please, Satoru let me—“ and he’s ripping your underwear, as he’s forcing your dress higher, “I have to tell him—“ 

“Tell him what?” His eyes are nearly glowing in the dim light of the fluorescents leaking in from the living room, “tell him you’d go on your date with him but you’re too busy being finger fucked by your husband?” And he’s sinking another finger into you, making your head loll back against the wall, “tell him that you’d let him fuck you in our bed, but you’re too busy letting me?” 

“Sa-toru—“ you’re biting back your whines, glancing at the door, but he’s forcing your gaze back to him, his thumb pressed against your chin, “just let me—“ 

And he’s turning you in front of the mirror near the entryway, forcing you to look at yourself — your lips kiss bitten and ruined, your dress hiked up and mussed, and underwear tugged down to your ankles. 

“Do you want him to see you like this?” His breath is hot in your ear, a soft murmur that makes your knees nearly buckle, “want him to see you how much of a mess I’ve made you?” His fingers sink into you again, a third finger with the other two. The lewd squelch of your cunt rings in your ears, your eyes catching sight of your own moans and pants in the mirror, your walls squeezing around them, “I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, sweetheart, and now you can watch too,” he’s guiding your gaze back to watch yourself, watching him knuckle deep in your sweet cunt, “gonna make you watch your tight pussy break my fingers,” he spreads his fingers inside you, letting you watch your slice drip down his fingers and wrist and splatter on the floor.

And your head falls back against his shoulder — he’s thrusting into you faster, your walls working deeper and deeper into you — fingers curling against your molten insides, until he’s finding that one spot that has your lips falling open, “I’m so—” your voice is a broken whisper, and he’s pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Please—“ 

“Cum f’me baby,” his thumb rubs at your clit, and you do, walls clamping down as you cum, his fingers relentless as they fuck you through your orgasm, a wordless moan of his name on your lips. He’s holding you up as he does, your body buckling under the pleasure, blood roaring in your ears that slowly ebbs away, as his fingers slow, and you’re shuddering under his touch, “good girl,” and your walls flutter as he pulls out as if they want him to stay, and he’s tilting your gaze, “watch,” your eyes open reluctantly, a small moan on your lips as you watch him carefully each one of his fingers clean, pink tongue darting out to lick at the trails of your juices that had dripped down his palm and wrist, “still the sweetest thing I’ve had, princess,” 

And there’s another knock, as he clicks his tongue, “Doesn’t give up does he?” and he’s pressing a kiss to your neck, “must have really done a number on him and he’s willing to wait this long for you, huh?” he hums, nuzzling the hollow of your throat, “but I can relate. So, should I let him down for you?” 

Your eyes fly open, meeting his cheeky gaze with a glare, “Don’t you fucking dare,” 

“What? You still want to go out with him? Be my guest, but,” and he’s pulling at your ruined underwear until they rip under his touch, “can’t wear these, can you?” you gape at him as he pockets the ruined panties with a shit eating grin, “for later,” and you’re scoffing, and you hear a call of your name through the door. 

And you take a better look at yourself — completely disheveled and marked up along your neck from his kisses and nips, your skin shiny with a sheen of sweat, and your lips obviously bruised and bitten from his treatment. 

“Fuck,” you can’t go out like this — it looks as if you’d spent the morning before getting ravished, panic sets in as you hear his voice through the door. 

“Want me to send him on his way?” Satoru’s hands curl around your waist, “our angel’s still fast asleep, and that means we can spend some time together—“ 

“Fuck off,” you hiss, walking over to the door, “Atsuya, I’m sorry I can’t go out today. I’m not feeling well,” 

“Eh? Are you okay? Do you need anything?” And Satoru steps forward to speak but you cover his mouth with his hand. 

“No, I’m fine, but I have the flu and I’m still contagious, so I don’t want to get you—“ Satoru drags his tongue between your fingers — this fucker, “sick,” 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and take care of you?” Satoru’s hands are dragging over your sides, squeezing your far too sensitive hips. 

“Hear that?” Satoru’s whispering to you between the gaps of your fingers, “He wants to take care of you. Should you let him? Maybe he could fuck you better in the home we bought together and in the bed we shared,” 

“No, I’m fine, really, I-I—“ and Satoru’s sucking at your finger, tongue curling around the digit, and you grit your teeth, “I’m going to rest. I’ll text you later, I’m sorry—“ and you don’t get to hear the rest of what he says, as Satoru’s pulling your hand away, and finding your lips in another kiss. 

You hate how good this man is at kissing, his lips and touch must have the ability to leech sense from your brain, and leave lust in its place. 

“What’s wrong with you?” you mumble against his lips, as his lips burn a trail of kisses down your jaw, a smirk against your skin. 

“Nothing’s wrong with me, except that I love you,” he’s pouting again, “you think that guy could please you the way I could?” 

“No, but maybe he would actually be there,” you bite back and his kisses pause, smirk slipping into a frown. 

“I know I’ve made mistakes—“ 

You give a bitter chuckle, “Mistakes? You left us,” 

He opens and closes his mouth, “you’re right I did, and I’m sorry,” his words are slow, but so is the anger building inside you, “but I’m asking for a second chance, begging for one more chance—“ 

You finally turn to face him, and you can only hope the tears welling in your eyes weren’t noticeable, “You don’t get to beg, when I already did,” your voice finally breaks, as your clenched fist shakes, “where were you? After our daughter was born, you were gone. You kept saying you would make time for us, you would be there for us, but you just busier and busier, and the only time I’d see you were the nights you made it home to crawl into bed,” 

“I—“ 

“No, I’m tired, I’m tired of waiting and being upset, I’m so done—“ and he’s pulling you into his arms, and the familiarity of his grasp is nearly enough for your defenses to crumble, but you can’t, “Satoru” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I did wrong. I know I don’t deserve you or our baby, not after all I did,” he’s murmuring, “but it was never because of you or her,” 

Tears spill from your eyes, streaming down your cheeks, “I used to cry, thinking that not only that I wasn’t enough, but your daughter wasn’t enough either—“ 

“You weren’t the ones that wasn’t enough,” he cuts you off, “I am,” the last words come out a whisper, as he runs fingers through his hair, “I’m the one who wasn’t good enough,” 

You stare at him, “What do you mean?” 

He’s scrubbing a hand down his face, “I don’t know how to be a husband, much less a father. I didn’t think I even wanted to be either, until I met you,” his voice softens, “and then I wanted it all if it was with you,” 

“Satoru—“ and he’s shaking his head. 

“I thought I could handle it — but when I saw you two — the two most important people in my life — how much you were counting on me, how much you needed me to not fail — I threw myself into work,” he’s swallowing, “I thought if I could support you both, things would get better. But it only made things worse because I pushed myself away,” 

“Why?”

“Because I thought I’d mess it up — I don’t know how to be a father. I didn’t even know I wanted to be a husband until we got married,” and you swallow, “I thought I never would after watching my dad neglect and abuse me and my mom,” you knit your brow together, “and there were so many nights when you were sleeping, I got so frustrated with our angel. She wouldn’t sleep, she screamed for hours, and I just felt like I had failed her. And I would just fail you too,” he scrubbed a hand down his face, “so—“  

“So you ran away,” you finish, voice caught in your throat. 

He gives a curt nod, “And when you filed, I knew it was coming, but I thought you both would be better off. I thought even if I was miserable, it would be worth it to see you two happy—“ 

“Satoru, do you think I would be happy without my husband?” Your sigh stuck in your throat as your fingers find his cheek, featherlight, but he crumbles and melts against it, as if he was a statue made to wait for your touch, “you’re nothing like your father. I see you with Satomi, I see how much you love her — you dote on her, you know what she likes — she gets a cut and you’re panicking,” you chuckle as he huffs, a cute blush settling over his cheeks, “and you were a good husband, when you talked to me and didn’t run away,” 

“I know,” and the question unspoken hangs in the air, “can I be again? Your husband,” and your instinct is to pull him into your arms, where you wanted him to be, where you always wanted to be, but your instinct is tangled in fear, barbed wire dragging you down and digging into your skin. 

“I want you to be,” his eyes light up, hope flicking across his gaze like a comet tail, until it burns out with your next words, “but I’m scared,” you swallow, arms crossed, hoping if you physically hold yourself maybe you could hold yourself together, “I don’t want to get hurt again,” 

“I won’t, I promise,” he’s cupping your cheek again, and you find yourself leaning into his touch, “every night I only thought of you and Satomi — there’s no one else that matters,” he’s drawing closer again, it makes you want nothing more than his touch again — it had been too long — too long without him. 

And your lips find his again, it’s a chaste kiss at first, a breath shared a centimeter apart, as his eyes find yours, brow furrowed, “We have a lot to talk about,” you murmur, as your lips graze his again, and he’s chasing your lips, “but it’s going to take time,” God, you want to kiss his knowing pout away, as you drag a thumb down his lips, “a lot of making up to me and our angel,” He’s nodding obediently, a complete puppy under your touch, as he shivers as your fingers run through his hair before tugging, “are you ready for that?” 

“Yes, baby,” he’s biting his lip, fingers twitching wanting to touch you. 

Your lips curl, “Good boy.” 

“All that big talk and now look at you, Toru,” Satoru’s white knuckled fingers fisted at the sheets of your shared bed, as your own fingers teased the head of his leaking cock through his boxers, “such a mess for me,” 

You kneel at the foot of your bed, settled between his thighs, and though you were on your knees, you were the one who held the power. Fingers tracing the trigger right within your grasp, his cock twitching against your hand. 

“Please, sweetheart, fuck,” he’s hissing when your lips lean down to press a kiss to his clothes weeping slit, the wet heat of your mouth seeps through, making him twitch against your touch — a spark of need that burns against his skin and boils his blood underneath with need, “please, don’t tease me,” 

“Well that’s not fair,” you hum, as your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, snapping the elastic against your skin, sending a shiver up his body along with an ache that reaches his bones — and he wondered how he had let your grip on him grow this deep — and how he had ever let it go when it felt this good, “when you’re being teased I’m supposed to relent, even though you made me cum downstairs in my entryway?” 

And he’s swallowing thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing just as anticipatory as the rest of his body, a bow string drawn tight just waiting for you to release it. But you wished to toy with the arrow more. 

“I have half a mind to make you clean my cum off the floor with your tongue,” you click your own tongue as a taunt, but that only makes him squirm, “but maybe I’ll spare you since you’re being so good for me,” you’re dragging your fingers down his boxers, freeing his cock— already far too hard, flushed and dripping with precum as it slaps against his stomach, the flared head nearly begging you to touch it, “tell me what you want,” his cock is far too gorgeous, you thought that from the first time you saw it  — long and curved, and the veins that ran along it were so pretty— just like the man himself. 

And a whimper escapes his lips, “sweetheart, please, touch me—“ 

“With what?” you thumb his tip lightly, smearing the cum down his shaft, “my fingers? Or my mouth,” and your lips lick the pre that clings to your thumb clean, dragging your thumb down the flat of your tongue. 

“Y-Your mouth,” and you’re smiling, your lips curling as his pretty gaze pleads with you, “please,” 

“Imagine your subordinates saw you like this, begging your ex-wife to blow you, nearly ready to blow your load already just from fingering me,” your fingers toy with his balls, while you leans down to trace the tip of his tongue up the bottom of his cock, “what do you think they’d say?” And your lips part to let his engorged tip enter, as his head falls back with a groan, the wet and warm mouth, as you start to bob your head up and down his length. 

“Fuuuuck, pretty,” and you’re pausing as you wait for a reply to your question, his own tongue tying itself in knots, “think I’m down bad for my wife,” he’s grunting, the words ‘my wife’ and his groans sending white hot arousal to your needy cunt, “think I’d let her fuck me anyway she wants and they would be right, sweets. I’d let you use me,” your tongue is wrapped around his length, as his dick sinks deeper into your mouth, nose brushing against his pubes, his hips held taut as he forces himself not to face fuck you. 

And his eyes flutter down to meet yours, only to find your eyes drowning in lust, molten with need that nearly burned him with want, lips sloppy and dripping with a mix of precum and your spit out of the corners of your mouth, and your fingers —buried deep in your cunt as you sucked him off. 

Fuck. 

With the nasty way you slurped at his length, the noise ringing in his ear as your fingers begin to squeeze and stroke his balls, he wasn’t going to last much longer. His hips bucked against your mouth, and he’s muttering apologies but you let him, moaning as his tip hits the back of your throat. 

“I’m close—where—“ and you’re sucking hard, tongue flicking against his slit and when he fucks your mouth once, twice — he’s gone. He’s cumming down your throat, hot spurts of cum painting your lips and mouth, his head falls back, fingers gripping the sheets as his eyes flutter open. And he watches you pull away from his cock, sticky strings of cum and saliva connecting you to his length still, “fuck, sweetheart,” his softening dick already twitching at the sight of you — your pretty tongue darting out to lick his cum from your lips. 

“You taste as good as I remember, Toru — always so sweet,” and you’re pulling your own fingers from inside your tight pussy, and he snaps. 

You’re on your back on the bed now, flopped down against the mattress as his hand closes around your wrist of the hand that was just inside you. Your words are lodged in your throat but come out a shiver when he brings your soaked fingers to his lips, he kisses each one before sucking and licking them clean. 

“Toru—“ and he pulls away from the last finger with a pop, eyes clouded with need, “I—“ 

“And you say I taste good?” he’s humming, as he leans over you, “wait until you taste yourself, Princess,” and his mouth is insistent on giving you an entire course of your taste on his tongue, mapping out a detailed cartography of very crook and crevice of your mouth, “aren’t you so much sweeter?” He’s pulling away from your bitten red lips, spit connecting your lips still, “and that taste is all mine, just like you, wifey,” 

The pet name sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through your veins, stoking the burning need already threatening to consume you both, “Toru—“ and he’s already stripping your dress away, pulled away up and over your head, thrown away like every thought of why this was a bad idea. Your nipples perk in the cool air of your bedroom and under his hot gaze, standing at attention as if they’re begging for his attention. And he’s more than happy to oblige. 

His fingers toy with the buds, rolling between your forefinger and thumb, until he’s bending down to take one in his mouth, and you’re arching into his touch, your fingers finding purchase on his shoulders. 

“Bet Atsuya would love to see you like this, huh?” He’s switching to the other side, teeth dragging against your nipple to draw a gasp from your lips, “Would love to see you such a mess like this, spread out and needy,” and he’s spreading you with warm palms, his half hard cock brushing against your thigh, “Were you gonna let him fuck you on this bed? Our bed?” 

He doesn’t allow you an answer as his fingers spread your dripping walls, “Gonna let him taste you like this?” His lips warm your fluttering pussy, nearly begging for his touch and to swallow you whole, “when I already said this pretty cunt was mine,” he clicks his tongue far too close, making you whine, “g’nna have to answer my question first, Princess,” 

“No, I wouldn’t,” and he presses a chaste kiss to your dripping pussy, making you whimper, your walls spasming around nothing, “Toru,” 

“Remember when we moved into this home?” his lips are teasing your inner thigh, teeth dragging against your hot skin, “we broke the bed in all night long,” he’s looking up through half lidded eyes, “think he could please you like that? Make you moan his name?” 

And you’re growing desperate as his lips draw close to your clit, tongue dragging against it, only to pull away to your thighs again, “no, no, only you, Toru, please—“ 

“Only I what?” oh you know he’s goading you, but your want is drawn taut like a stringed instrument, tweaking your strings when you’re dying for him to play you — “c’mon sweetheart,” 

“Only you make me feel this good — fuck, Toru, I swear to god—“ your head falls back into the pillow as his face buries itself in your cunt, his laugh vibrates against your walls, pleasure rising faster than smoke from a burning building. His fingers dig into your hips as he holds you in place now, settled between your legs. 

“You swear to me what?” and you swear his god complex gets worse and worse, and the way you moaned with his head between your legs wasn’t helping, “sorry, Princess, I have my mouth full,” and his tongue as silver as his words were, parting your folds with ease, as his lips slurped at your folds messily. 

Fuck, he was too good at it, and he knew it, smirk on his lips as the wet, nasty noises of his mouth wrapped around your cunt and your bordering pornographic moans filled the silence. Pleasure ribboned up your body, mixing with the sharpness of his fingers pressed against your plush thighs to keep you in place. 

“Gonna make me cum before I even fuck you, Princess,” and you hear the telltale squelch of his hand around his weeping dick — the shudder of your groan making him moan all the same, “taste so fucking good, never gonna go a night without tasting you again,” he murmurs far too reverently with his tongue dipping back into your folds for more of your juices, “you know how many times I fucked my fist to the thought of eating you out again? Never gonna spend a second without burying myself in this cunt,” 

“Toru, I’m close—“ and you are, greedy tongue flitting over your clit, his nose bumping against his folds, and the practiced ease of his touch — he knew just what to do to make you cum. And he did, his mouth closing around your clit, before sucking harshly. 

You cum on his face, swallowing your slick with the thrust of a desert weary man, his eagerness apparent on his soaked face, as you finally came down your high. He doesn’t waste a drop, only pulling away with a pop when your orgasm ebbs away, licking his lips clean of your juices. 

“Still dripping even after I licked you clean?” He clicks his tongue as he watches your slick soak the sheet, “gonna have to find another way, maybe you need something bigger,” he hums in fake contemplation, “what can we use?” 

“I have some sex toys that might do the trick,” and he scoffs, as he kisses up your body, before pressing his hard erection against your thigh. 

“Don’t think any toy you have compares to me,” and you’re gasping as he drags the head of his cock against your puffy clit, “nothing can fill you up like I can,” and he groans as he watches your releases mix, “just for that, g’nna make you beg for it,” 

“Toru,” you’re whining, but he’s only teasing your entrance with the head of his dick, your walls fluttering, already begging for him to sink into you, but he’s waiting for your mouth to do the same, “please, fuck me, I need you inside—“ 

He grins, “Well how can I deny my pretty wife when she asks so nicely?” And he’s splitting you open with his thick cock, balls deep with only a thrust of his hips. Your hands are grasping at him for purchase, needing to hold onto him as his cock stretches your walls out. It’s as if you remember him, walls sliding to accommodate him as they always did, but clinging to him desperately, a grunt parting his lips, as if they never wanted him to leave again. And you didn’t. 

“So fucking tight, Princess,” he’s groaning in your ear, a swallow roll of his hips drawing a chorus of moans from both of you, “don’t have to break my dick off to keep it — I’ll take you anytime you want,” and he’s pressing your thighs forward, slinging one over his shoulder, as he presses himself even deeper. 

A whine leaves the back of your throat, “too deep, Toru,” and his cock twitches inside you at that, “fuck,” and it takes everything in him not to blow his load there and then, 

“You love it when I fuck you like this, Princess, or do I have to remind you?” And he does, beginning to piston in and out, the lewd slaps of skin and moans filling the air of your bedroom, “be careful or our daughter might wake from the sounds of her mommy getting fucked,” he clicks his tongue, “maybe we should give her another sibling?” He’s watching the way your cunt eagerly welcomes his cock, sinking in and out with ease, “fuck another baby into you, hm? Would you like that princess?” 

“Toru, ngh,” your walls flutter at the thought of a kid, of his seed filling you up, “please—more—“ 

He gives a chuckle, “I’ll give you everything, sweetheart — fuck you so full that you’ll be dripping with my seed for days,” he’s grunting, legs trembling as his thrusts grow more sloppy as his orgasm begins to build, “fuck, you feel so good for me, “gonna give you another baby, make sure everyone knows you’re mine, my wife—“ 

“G’nna cum, Toru,” you’re falling back against the mattress, as he bends down to press a messy kiss to your lips, all tongue and teeth, before his fingers reach down to rub at your clit. Your eyes finding his, face flushed a pretty pink, eyes shrouded in a deep lust that was reserved only for you, and as he bucks into you even deeper, he brushes against that spongy spot that has the taut string snapping as you fall apart. 

“Cum on my cock, sweetheart,” he’s grunting, as he grazes teeth along your neck before biting. And you cum hard, toes curling as your mouth falls open with only moans of his name on your lips. The way your walls squeeze around him has him only rutting into you harder, deeper, messier — as he watches the ring of cum pool around the base of his cock, fucking you through your orgasm, “g’nna cum—“ and you’re pulling him into another kiss, legs wrapped around him as he falls over the edge with you. Hot cum spills in ropes inside your walls, his hips rolling as he does, if only to fuck his cum deeper inside you. 

“Toru, s’good, I—“ you’re incoherent nearly under him, soft kisses pressed along your jaw as you both come down from your highs, cock softening inside you only him to pull out, another groan of your name on his lips when he watches his cum drip from inside you, staining your thighs along with the sheets. 

And you whimper when he’s gathering his spilled cum on two fingers only to push it back inside, “can’t let you waste a drop, can we, sweetheart?” 

He’s finally pulling away, his other hand cupping your cheek, as he finds your lips in a lazy but far too sweet kiss, “Toru,” you mumble, “I never stopped loving you, because I don’t think I ever could,” 

His eyes grow glassy, his fingers finding the back of your neck, “I know nothing I’ll do will make up for what I did — to you and Satomi, but,” he presses his forehead to yours, “if you both let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you,” 

And tears burn at the corners of your eyes, “Just stay with us, and promise to never leave — that’s enough,” and your lips brush his, “you’re more than enough for us, Satoru,” and he kisses you again and again and again, nearly climbing on top of you again, when you both hear a tiny gasp from the door. 

Your heads both snap over to your baby daughter leaning against the door, badly hidden behind it, as she pokes her head in, “did mommy and daddy make up?” 

Your cheeks burn as you cover your face — you both had checked on Satomi before but she was fast asleep still, and now — you checked the time — 9:30 PM, you were sure she’d be up all night. 

“Yes baby, mommy and daddy had some stuff to talk about,” Satoru grabs your robe for you, handing it over as he pulls his discarded boxers on under the sheets, “come here,” and she squeals as she runs into her daddy’s arms, Satoru scoops her up before pressing kisses all over her face, her giggles and his grin nearly too much for you. 

“Now she’s gonna be up all night,” you murmur to Satoru, and he’s smiling. 

“I can tire her out,” he grins, and then he adds with a whisper, “and then I’ll tire you out,” and you flush, shoving him playfully, “come on, my love, let’s go play for a while and let mama rest,” and he’s sliding out of bed, carrying her out of the bedroom, and you watch him, lying on your side, with a smile on your lips.  

Maybe it wasn’t so bad having a husband — especially when it was Satoru Gojo. 

Satoru lets you and Satomi sleep in the next morning, making a smoothie for himself, as he starts to prepare breakfast. He did tire you both out last night, especially you — and you did some exhausting of your own, his fingers running over the hickies you left all over his neck and collarbone with a slight hum. He tied your apron on himself, only boxers and a sleeveless tee on. 

He started to crack eggs into a bowl with one hand. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes again — he meant what he said. He would make it up to you, or at least he would try — and he would spend the rest of his life treasuring you and his kid — and maybe another if you let him have his way, he thought, biting back a grin. 

You had turned him down last night when he asked, 

“Don’t you think it’s time we try for another one?” His arms are winding around you, half hard erection already pressing into you, as the two of you stood right outside your daughter’s doorway, watching the angel sleep, “we did do well with the first one,” 

“Toru, we just got back together, we’re not having another kid,” and he’s already pouting, you know without looking at him, “but that would be nice — for our daughter to have a sibling,” and god, it made him to take right there (which he did), but he couldn’t wait until all three of you were ready. Because he wouldn’t dare to miss a second of it — never again. 

And then a knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts, and his brow furrows. Who could it be this early?

He walks over, checking through the peephole, a grin growing on his lips, oh, perfect timing. Satoru opens the door, leaning against the doorframe, “Yes?” 

Atsuya Kusakabe frowns, jaw nearly dropping as he attempts not to gape at Satoru Gojo standing in his date’s doorway, nearly dropping the bag of medicine and soup he had packed up for you, “Uh, sorry, I was looking for—“ 

“My wife?” He raises a brow, and Kusakabe’s face blanches, as Satoru only smiles with a shrug, “sorry I should say ex-wife, we did get a divorce,” and Kusakabe’s mouth opens and closes, “but you know, she never stopped being mine,” 

Kusakabe clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, “where is—“ 

“She’s sleeping still,” Satoru’s lips curl, as he sighs, “she wasn’t feeling well yesterday, but I think I made her feel better last night,” and he’s rubbing the back of his neck, movement drawing his attention to your marks littering his body. 

A flush crawls up his neck and ears and he clears his throat, “I-I see,” he thrusts the bag into Satoru’s hands, “could you please give this to her and let her know—“ and he’s shaking his head, rubbing at his temples, “tell her whatever you want.” 

And he’s gone, door slamming behind him, click of the lock. He holds the bag behind him, only to walk forward to see you peeking from the bedroom, his button up shirt thrown over your head, as you rub your eyes,  “who was it?” 

He only smiles at you, dropping the bag in the trash, “No one important,” and he’s finding his way to your side, arms winding around your waist, “I made us breakfast,” 

“Oh really?” You hum, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, pressing sweet kisses that only makes you sigh contently, “what’s the occasion?” 

“Oh, just the first day of the rest of our lives, nothing too big,” he hums, and you laugh, his favorite noise that only makes him fall deeper in love with you, if that was even possible, “have to treat you right don’t I, wifey?” 

“Yes, you do,” and your lips find his again, “my husband,” and the word sticks in his chest, a missing piece that fits right back into place, and fixes a hole that had been aching for far too long, “should we go wake up our daughter?” 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Together.” 

✧ a/n: so i didn't think i'd finish this week with being at my sister's and having a con this weekend but i found the time! i hope you enjoyed this one. this is my reality for gojo i'm living in :) fun fact, satomi and satoru both mean enlightenment! :)

✧ taglist: @jasminelee324 , @forest-hashira , @spider-fan72 ,, @rougebrainsludge , @theshylittleelfgirl , @ririchurl , @johannakhalafalla , @hanlay , @fawnlikelore , @vickkysthings , @dead-kats , @hantaslittlearsonist t , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @augustwinesworld , @forest-fruits-jam , @kirashuu , @catsgomurp , @daddytojji , @notgoodforlife , @hyori2 , @shrimpy109 , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @i-spilt-ink-on-my-phone , @sunamatic , @rougebrainsludge , @redmangotango , , @psychxbby , @nakariabnrb , @mua-for-now @dazailover1900 , @alwaysfreakingout , @yamaguccitadashi , @equikaz , @gojosatorubrainrot

#sab [mlist] #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fanfiction #gojo x reader #gojo fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #gojo satoru smut #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jjk gojo

[actual-changeling]

So, I was rewatching the kiss scene frame-by-frame, as one does, and I realized something. First I thought, well, Alex, you probably saw that wrong, let’s keep going. A minute later, however, I was confronted with the reality of no, not mistaken. 

Maybe I am late to the party and everyone has already seen it and knows about it, but in case there are people that haven’t: Aziraphale not only puts his hand on Crowley’s back, he puts his left one on his waist BEFORE that.

Not just that, he slides it up and also uses it as leverage to pull Crowley closer. I could go through those few seconds one frame at a time, but that would take forever, so I will give you the highlights in chronological order.

His hands flutter around at first and don’t settle anywhere, which is actually really useful since it shows us what the angle for that looks like.

Now, the next time his left hand moves up, look at the progression. It does not go down the same way as before. Instead, it moves inward and against Crowley’s waist. And it STAYS THERE right up until he moves both of his hands away.

Look at the angle!!!! Look at how it moves INWARD and towards Crowley instead of straight down like before.

Still moving towards Crowley with a slight downwards drift because he is aiming for his waist.

Now it is too low for us to see but I think it is very obvious where his hand has settled. Maybe I am going insane after only thinking about this show for almost a month straight. Maybe not. Call me crazy but the angle here is DIFFERENT. The second one very much looks like he is holding onto Crowley.

Aziraphale kisses back. Fully kisses back. Somehow, that wasn’t enough for Michael Sheen, no, he had to fully commit to it and *close his eyes* when he reciprocates, too. Look at this!!! The way his eyes flutter shut when Crowley first grabs him, then open, and then CLOSE AGAIN when he starts holding him in return. Kissing back with his eyes closed and his arms wrapped around him. The last picture is right before he moves his hand to his waist/the frame after the camera angle changes.

Anyone else losing it right now? No? Just me? That’s fine, although I most definitely am not. Fine, that is. Michael Sheen I’m sending you my fucking therapy bills.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #someone please tell me they see it too or i gotta up my antipsychotics #half joking lmao

[superblysubpar]

Sincerely, Yours:

bestfriend!steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: a movie night, a confession, an offer, your Calvin's bunched up on the floor of your best friend's BMW...and other places | 18+ Only, NSFW | main menu

the song: Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds - all of steve's music

6.6k words

warnings: "inexperienced" reader - in the form of never really making out/receiving none/not great foreplay - masturbating for comfort/ease before sex, SMUT (public - in the back of Steve's car - "caught" by Hopper when you're done, oral, fingering, steve cums in his levi's cause I'm a sucker for doing this to him, what can I say?)

A/N: Once upon a time, I asked for requests, and I failed to fulfill many of them (you may have heard this story before), but this one sat in the drafts for many many months, and then I really chickened out posting it for a long time. Everyone say thanks to @palmtreesx3 - I owe her and the request for the prompt "we're not really just best friends, are we?"(which isn't even used in this, but you get the picture) and The Breakfast Club for this fic 💛

He didn’t hear it at first, over the last remaining popping kernels. 

“What?” He called around a mouthful of the snack he was already dipping into before it was finished. 

In the other room, your attention was strictly on Judd Nelson, but you tried again, with no real power or meaning behind the words. 

“Want me to pause it?”

“No,” he shook his head and rolled his eyes to no one but himself in the kitchen, “Don’t think you need to pause the movie I’ve seen three times…this week.”

“I’d love one, thanks!”

Steve snorted at your response that made no sense, it becoming apparent you weren’t listening to him at all.  He should have known this was his fate after the way you acted when it was showing at The Hawk. You saw it with him, then Robin, then Nancy, and Steve put his foot down when you tried to drag him down there for a fourth time.

Now here he was, dumping the popcorn into a large bowl and watching it again. He didn’t even know what number of views he was on with you, which had him worried about your sanity, ‘cause you had to be watching it without him too. 

Steve snagged two cans of Coke out of the fridge, assuming that’s what you’d love one of, and kicked the door closed with his heel. 

He cradled the popcorn bowl against his side and held each of the cans with one hand and spread fingers, socked feet slipping on the hardwoods when he rounded the corner and saw you again. 

Despite becoming incredibly bored by the movie, he did love watching you watch it, because somehow, it’s as if you’re watching it for the first time every time. 

Your white tube socks were stark against the dark wood of the coffee table, bunching around your ankles that led him to the exposed skin of your calves. Which led to the way your blue skirt fanned over your thighs all nice, then the Queen shirt he got you for your birthday tucked into it, your thumb between your teeth with your eyebrows bunched together. 

His best friend was really fucking pretty. 

He almost said it out loud, which had him flopping onto the couch a little quickly, a little too heavy with his fall. Careless in his aim of the cushion and causing popcorn to spill from the bowl into your lap as his shoulder jostled yours. 

Before he could even say sorry, you were grabbing the popcorn from your lap like it was the bowl, blissfully unaware it wasn’t, all the while making heart eyes at dreamy Bender.

“Thanks,” your appreciation came out heavy around the buttery and salty handful of the snack, the Coke you’d love sitting on the coffee table, already forgotten.

Steve hummed, his amused lips twitched in a losing fight against a smile at your captivated stare fixated on the screen. He suppressed an eye roll at the scene about to happen, as he swiped condensation off the cool metal of the can with his thumb. 

He popped the drink open with a loud hiss, slurping his first sip - a habit you’d normally swat at his chest for - but you were too busy focusing on the words about to leave Judd’s mouth. 

“Have you ever kissed a boy on the mouth?”

They sort of just tumbled out of Steve too, while his eyes glanced over the popcorn bowl, searching for a perfectly buttery piece. Which is why he didn’t see that he, your best friend, quoting the scene that has dialogue that got you all hot and bothered more than others, had your entire body freezing. 

Steve tossed the acquired piece into the air, catching it in his mouth before he turned to face your profile. He found you with widened eyes, chest rising and falling a little too quickly, and he grinned. 

“Have you ever been felt up…over the bra…under the blouse…your shoes off, hoping to god your parents don’t walk in?”

He’s simply delighted when he quotes the scene again and your body shifts, toes curling as you arched your neck away from. You kept your eyes on the screen, not giving him the satisfaction of eye contact because of what he was slowly, finally, realizing.

You were totally turned on and he couldn’t wait to tease you about it forever.

Steve leaned in closer, whispering along with the movie, “Over the panties…no bra…blouse unbuttoned…Calvin’s in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?”

He’s gearing up, about to tease you, make some dumb boy comment about being hot for the school freak, when your quiet, barely a breath response had him pausing. 

“No.”

Did you just say that out loud?!

Your head turned to find Steve blinking at you, creases in his forehead deepening beneath the stray locks of hair that fell forward. 

Looks like you did.

“Ste-”

“What? What do you mean no?”

Your eyes closed when you both spoke at the same time, avoiding his curious stare. Hands roamed to your cheeks to hide your face as your head fell towards your knees. 

As you shook your head no, your response gets muffled into your skirt. “I meant no.”

Steve’s hand nudged at your shoulder, prodding for clarity and for you to sit up. He failed to sound casual when his question came out incredulously.

“No, you’ve never kissed a guy?”

Your hands still covered your face as you fell back against the couch with a groan, “No, I..I have. I just…”

Steve pulled at your hands, his heart racing like it was overtime. All these years, he thought you’d been with all these other guys, his quiet jealousy seething under the surface of his tinged green from envy skin. 

A breath, well, more of a huff really, slipped past your lips as your gaze dropped to the hands holding yours in your lap. “I’ve never really made out with anyone? Just like…a quick kiss or two. I don’t even know, can you even count it as kissing? Over before it starts kind of thing…”

The ramble trailed off, the room silent save for the movie still playing and the giant, loud, big, fat, zero response from Steve. You counted the threads in the carpet, the pieces of popcorn in the bowl as your skin grew hotter and hotter from the reveal he’s left just hanging there until he  finally sputtered out a sorry excuse for one.

“Are you shitting me? We’re like…old.”

It doesn’t come out how he meant it to at all, he’s just shocked. He’s wincing almost immediately as the words reach his ears and brain, he knows how it sounded. He wishes he could take it back when your head whips up, hurt eyes meeting his as you ripped your hands away from him. 

“Yeah, Steve,” you scoffed, jaw pulsing as your voice dripped with sarcasm that tried to cover  the embarrassment, “I’m shitting you. Thought it’d be real funny to trick you into thinking your best friend is a loser who’s barely been kissed even though she’s so old.”

Pieces of popcorn fell from your lap as you stood, not letting yourself wonder where they came from as you stomped around the coffee table and towards his entryway. 

“No, honey, wait-” he stumbled after you, spilling Coke down the front of his shirt as he did, “Shit.”

He patted at his chest like it’d do anything, shirt damp and sticking to his skin as he rounded the corner and found you lacing up your converse and shaking your head. 

“It’s fine, Steve. I’m fine. I just don’t feel like talking about it. I’m gonna go home. Don’t worry about it. Girl stuff.”

“No, please, I didn’t mean-”

His words stopped just as abruptly as your body, when the front door swung open to reveal an out of nowhere downpour. 

Your head fell as you started to ask, and he was already one step ahead of you.

“Can you please-”

“I’ll grab my keys.”

He was tripping up his stairs by the time he finished saying it. When he returned, it was in a clean shirt, jumping from the second to last step as he swirled the keys around his pointer finger. 

The light blue fabric of his new shirt pulled at his shoulders that hunched when your glare remained unwavering despite the apologetic puppy dog eyes he had going for him. 

You understood Steve didn’t mean for the comment to start the hole he was digging, and you knew you weren’t being fair for being so upset. It’s not like it was his fault, it was just your own insecurities manifesting in an anger towards him. 

The nagging feeling of being some sort of freak who’d never made out while even the little twerps who clung to Steve were, while your best friend was Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High only grew stronger. The thought of Steve thinking you were some sort of weirdo for being old and never making out had something in your gut churning, had a familiar sting behind your eyes forming that you tried your best to ignore. 

When Steve opened his mouth, about to try to make it all better again, you simply turned on your heel and stalked out into the rain. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at the way you stomped through it, pretending to not be drowned. 

He quickly rushed behind you and got to the door first and swung it open, to which you rolled your eyes at, but slid in and got comfortable while he closed it for you nonetheless. 

Unsure why he went and changed as he raced around the hood and shot into the driver’s seat, totally soaked through to his skin now. He cranked the heat before swiping fingers over his eyes, a large hand ran through his hair and pushed it back only for it to fall into his eyes again. Steve reached over with wet and shaking fingers at the same time you held yours up, both of you pausing and glancing at the other’s hands. 

Steve was about to cup your fingers between his and blow warm breath onto them, just like he always did, but you ripped your hands down to your lap, and curled your body against the door, like you needed to be as far from him as you could be. 

Your damp forehead touched the cool glass of the window as he sighed, “Please don’t-”

“Just take me home, please?”

The tone in which the words were said has something in his chest breaking. Like you were really fucking sad, embarassed, it was a real plea to just take you home and leave you alone. 

So he wasn’t gonna do that, ‘cause he never was a great listener, so why start now?

He pretends though, he backs out of the driveway and heads in the direction of your apartment. He lets the radio fill the space and he turns the heat down when the air inside the car is heavier and warm despite your cold shoulder. The orange glow of the street lights slanted inside the car in a soothing rhythm as his wheels spun over the pavement until he was coming to the last four way stop before your apartment. 

It unfolds just as he had planned, when he’s still stopped at the deserted intersection, as your breath fogged up the glass when you asked, “Harrington, you planning on leaving the intersection anytime soon?”

His bottom lip wobbled as his teeth continued to press into it, thick fingers rubbing at a scruff dotted jaw as he thought out loud in an attempt to sway you. 

“Well, you see, I could go straight and take you home-” he started. 

“Right. Let’s do that.” You waved your hand towards the direction of the apartment that held the ice cream you were desperate to eat and wallow with while watching Pretty In Pink. 

“Or,” Steve interrupted right back, tapping on the steering wheel with his finger as he did, “I could go to the right. Pull into the diner. Buy you a milkshake and say sorry?”

The thing was, he was gonna go to the right regardless of your answer. He knew once you pulled into the parking lot there was no way you’d not at least go in and get fries and a shake, if not a whole burger. You’d done this dance before, him putting his foot in his mouth was not a new occurrence. 

Your lips twitched, but your arms stayed crossed as he hummed and whispered, “Tough choice…tough choice…”

Shoulders fell in defeat, but your mouth stayed downturned in a forced frown as you grumbled, “And fries.”

Steve smiled, turned on his blinker and nodded. He cleared his throat.

“And fries. Definitely.”

“And none of that you order yourself a vanilla shake and I order strawberry and you drink half of mine because it’s better and eat all the fries shit.”

“Of course,” Steve scoffed, “I would never do that.”

Steve slipped his straw into your shake, pulling the glass across the sticky tabletop as you did the same with his. He tried not to smirk around the straw when you did, dipping a fry in his vanilla he ordered for a reason despite the strawberry being better. 

“Do you think Claire is a prude for never doing anything?”

He shook his head no almost immediately, swiping at stray ice cream from the corner of his mouth with his tongue. 

You fiddled with the straw wrapped between your fingers and narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Would your answer be the same if, say, Eddie was sitting here asking you? Not me, your best friend, who you have sudden pity for?”

He blinked at you and sighed, “I don’t have pity for you.”

“Your mouth and your eyes are telling two different stories Harrington,” you waved a fry at him as you spoke, gesturing to his face with it. 

Your gaze stayed on the fry you were ripping in half, focused on watching it sink into the sweet vanilla as he dared to say, “I just don’t get it.”

“What, that I haven’t done that and I’m so old,” you tried to tease, to move past it. 

But the way you were licking salt off your finger had him wondering if he swiped his own through the salt on the tray and pushed the pad against your lips if they would part like they were now, if he could taste it on your lips if he just leaned forward and-

“No, ‘cause you’re so fucking pretty.” 

He definitely said it out loud that time. 

You blinked at him, cheeks suddenly too warm for the cold and damp Spring that had been surrounding you all day.  

“Ste-”

“And so smart,” he licked his lips, leaning forward, unable to stop now that it was out, “And funny. And…and sweet, you’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know, I just don’t understand how guys aren’t falling over themselves, unable to do anything but make out with you, or more or-”

“I never said I didn’t do more,” you whispered, ignoring all of his compliments that made your chest feel all tight and sticky and choosing to argue with him instead because that was easier. 

“But you said…if you haven’t made out with anyone…” 

Your body slipped lower against the squeaky seat, embarrassed as you shrugged and Steve felt too hot in the tiny little booth, thinking about all those guys’ hands on you again, and then what you said, what it meant, really clicked. 

“Hold on…how…how’d…you didn’t, build up to it?” He asked softly, eyes bouncing over your face with worry. 

“Steve,” you grabbed for the other shake, and sat up straighter, “We don’t need to talk about this. It’s not import-”

“It’s so important,” he grabbed your hand and squeezed your fingers lightly, “Half the fun is all the build up to it. And,” he swallowed, forehead creasing with deeper worry, “And then it, it doesn’t hurt. ‘Cause tell me if I’m wrong, but if they weren’t making out with you, were they doing anything to make sure you felt good?”

You squirmed in your seat, fingers pushing up against his mindlessly, aimlessly, as you shrugged again. “It’s only hurt a few times. I learned that if I…um, If I got myself ready beforehand, that I was, uh, more comfortable.”

Steve’s fingers let go of yours with the excuse of grabbing a fry, because he was trying not to be a gross guy, but all he could think about was you in your bedroom, with your fingers between your thighs now. Did you play music? What song? Did you have underwear on? What color? With a shirt that your nipples were visibly hard through as you touched yourself and maybe it was his shirt or maybe you said his name or-

“Right,” Steve nodded, “Um, right. And that’s great, lots of people do that for a date, so like if you need or want to beforehand that’s not…that’s great. It just shouldn’t be the only thing, you know? They should be putting in the work, they should be wanting to. And dates! They should watch a movie with you, and dinner and drive around and then kiss so much you feel dizzy and then if you want, more.”

He finished his rambling speech and you smiled softly, unsure of what to say, because you knew he wasn’t wrong, it’s just that they had. 

“They did,” you sighed, “Well, not Paul.”

Steve scowled at the table, “Yeah, well, I’m sure you weren’t missing much. Who wants to yell out Paul?”

“Oh,” you laughed, “And Steve is so much better?”

He looked up at you, your smile sweet and kind and your eyes a little sad, but trying not to be and he wanted to say yes. He wanted to tell you that if it was those lips and that voice saying it, it was better, because how could it not be? Like his name only had the best letters, like it belonged to the best guy in the world, one that belonged to you and no one else. 

But you were swiping at ice cream on your lips and sighing, saying something that made his chest ache instead. 

“They were nice dates. And it’s not like the sex was bad. But,” you looked out the window, eyes tracking the droplets of rain twinged neon from the light hanging above you both, “The kissing till I’m dizzy sounds nice. Is it…is it fun?”

“Yeah,” Steve whispered, admiring the way the red and blue lit up your profile before you turned to face him. 

And then he was saying something before he really thought it through, because god you weren’t just fucking pretty, you were the most beautiful person he’d ever met and no way in hell was he letting anyone treat you the way you’d been ever again. So this was his chance, and he was taking the leap.

“I could…” he blew out a breath and smiled. He sat up straighter, and he searched for some sort of lingering king steve confidence he could latch onto without all the douche as he asked, “I could show you?”

To both of your surprise, you’d said yes, and he paid and you were in the car, driving, and parked somewhere in what felt like seconds. Now your best friend sat across from you, both of you facing the center console, but not daring to do more. 

The rain beat against the roof of the maroon car, each drop a punctuated tick of a nonexistent clock - a meter for how much time was passing without movement, without words. Just both of your breathing filled the space. First exhaling, then desperately inhaling for more air as your chests rose and fell ragged. And then, like in some unspoken agreement only best friends can have, you both started to lean forward cause you just knew. 

Your heart’s thrum threatened to drown out the rain, building and building, screaming to break out of your chest, pounding in your ears while your cheeks grew warm and your stomach dipped as Steve’s tongue slipped out quickly and wetted his lips. 

But then he leaned and his eyes started to close and you giggled, fingers slipping over your lips as his eyelids shot open. 

“Sorry,” you gasped and shook your head and your hands out as you tried to be serious, “Your ‘I’m about to kiss you’ face is real cute, Harrington.”

Tried being the definitive word. 

“Cute?” He groaned, smiling, “Not sexy?”

You leaned in, faster this time, a smile matching his as you shrugged, “It’s nice. Never thought I’d be on the opposite side of it, is all.”

It’s easy to tilt your head and welcome the hand that reached up to cradle your jaw as he softly promised, “Your ‘I’m about to be kissed face’ is really cute too.”

The pad of his thumb brushed over the apple of your cheek in the tenderest touch you’d ever felt, before his fingers curled under your jaw and tilted you gently, slowly, up so his lips were right over yours. 

It felt like he was handling you like the most precious and fragile thing, like a prized possession that he’d only ever hold with care and never let another soul touch. 

His breath fanned over yours, warm and sweet smelling, vanilla and cherry just out of reach for you to taste as you dared to quip back again. “Alright, I’m gonna have to cross reference these lines with other girls you’ve promised to make dizzy, Harrington, cause if that’s the first time you’ve used that, I’m afraid it’s far too smooth…”

Steve’s heart felt like it was trying to claw out of his chest as you laughed, smiling at him when he responded, “And, I think that’s enough out of you.”

Which you couldn’t help but reply back to with, “Yeah? Have some fancy trick to get me to stop talking?”

He laughed, low, muffled and deep in his chest. “A few.”

A sharp inhale slipped past your lips when his nose bumps yours, not realizing how close he’d gotten while you joked back and forth nervously. There wasn’t a protocol on how to let your best show you a proper make out, on how to just dive in and start, you just knew you wanted to. 

Steve’s swallow bobbed his adams apple as the leather beneath you creaked from shifting weight, needing to get closer. And as you did, his eyes found yours, mossy and dark in the low light, the browns and golds washed away in the rain. Their gaze flitted down to your lips, back up to fluttering eyelashes, and then his own eyelids were closing. 

All it took was another breath in, an exhale out, and his lips were on yours. A simple, slow press, holding your top lip between the both of his. Strawberry and vanilla teasing you, and soon he was moving, now bottom lip between his and you got it. Your mouths parted together, lips slotting in a rhythm that came naturally, that clicked. 

Something in your stomach fizzled and crackled like the sparklers you lit every year in his driveway on the fourth as the sigh from his nose hit your cheek. Body warm and sticky in a way that was usually reserved for Summer when his fingers skated over your jaw, up and around your ear, until they were cradling the back of your neck and pulling you closer. His mouth moved with yours in a way that could only be described as frantically graceful - needing more, hurried, hungry, but with the promise and precision of someone who knew what he was doing. It had your stomach dipping, like a freefall, like the greatest and scariest thing you’d ever felt. 

If he’d have opened his eyes, he’d have found you with your hands suspended between your bodies though. Fingers not quite brave enough to reach up and get lost in his hair, but not content to just sit in your lap and do nothing either. 

And if you'd opened your eyes, you’d have found his other hand gripping the center console like he was hanging on for dear life. ‘Cause holy shit was he trying to go slow, but kissing you was like chasing the last few minutes of sunlight in July - sweet and fleeting and magic - something you needed to make last, to soak up every last drop of until you couldn’t any more, not by choice, but because the sun has to set and he has to breathe.

In a shared gasp for air, you parted, but his lips were back on yours immediately, making your stomach swoop even more, like an entire family of butterflies had decided - hey, we live here now and we’re gonna make a ruckus so get used to it.

You didn’t mind. 

Steve’s fingers found yours and without breaking his rhythm, he tugged, guiding them to his shoulders that were practically on your side of the console now, which wasn’t doing something great to his already somersaulting stomach. 

He slowed down as your fingers brushed over and back on the collar of his shirt and his hands cradled both of your cheeks, pulling you off of his lips regretfully. You were both breathing like you’d run a marathon, his forehead pressed to yours as he gasped out, “Dizzy yet?”

“No,” you lied. 

He grinned, tip of his nose tracing the bridge of yours as he admitted, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you like that.”

You couldn’t even respond, couldn’t tell him you wanted that too, couldn’t tell him that it was something you only dared let a daydream or two convince you it could happen before you were shutting it down, cause he was still talking. 

“And now that I have,” he swallowed, his thumbs glided down opposite sides of your neck as he shook his head, “I’m never stopping.”

Then he was kissing you again, and if you thought he was frantic before…

You had this feeling that even if those other guys had made out with you, kissing them wasn’t and never would be the same as kissing Steve Harrington. 

Soon one of your feet was on the seat, the other bracing yourself in the footwell. He had a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck and yours were finally starting to dare to journey past their spot on his shoulders and then your skirt was caught on the gearshift and he was stopping you again. 

“Honey, what are you doing?”

“So was that ‘never stopping’ just a nice sentiment or are you planning to back it up with action?” You huffed, distracted by pink lips that twisted into a crooked smile as he looked at your pretzeled body. 

Your shoulders fell as you nodded your head towards his side of the car and admitted, “I just want to be closer.”

“Oh, right.” Steve swallowed, and you wondered if it’d be weird if you kissed every freckle and mole you could find on his throat. Something told you he wouldn’t mind when he asked, a little more eager than you’d heard tonight, “Backseat?” 

And you clambered out of the car, the slowing rain soothing to heated and flushed skin under the mussed clothes, and then you were both meeting in the backseat, but the nerves returned. The way you both glanced at the space between you and were immediately and acutely aware of the lack of anything between you except doubt and fear. Was this a mistake? What about your friendship?

Steve looked at the space, at you, and then held up his finger in the symbol for one sec as he said, “Hold on,” and half climbed back into the front seat. His torso draped over the console as he loudly opened the glovebox and rummaged around inside, before he was fiddling with the radio, and falling back into the seat. 

His cheeks pink, but his smile wide as he looked at you again. “Hey! I’m so glad we could do this tonight. You look beautiful. Ready to watch your favorite movie?”

“Wh-what?” You laughed, totally and utterly confused. 

He tugged on your fingers, and pulled you to the middle, until you were slouched next to each other, shoulders touching as he shushed and said, “The Breakfast Club is starting.”

And the music playing over the radio,Simple Minds, a cassette he must have put in, had your chest swelling with something that was sure to burst and explode and kill you, because the boy was actually pretending you were on a couch, on a date, in a living room, watching a movie - it was perfectly Steve and you, and the best first date you’d ever been on. 

His left hand picked up yours, resting it on your thigh and played with your fingers. The pads of his traced up and down and over your hand as he stared at the windshield, his temple resting against yours. The music played, and his fingertips swooped between the curves of each finger aimlessly, the sides of his fingers running down yours and back up making it really hard to concentrate on the non-existent flick. 

When you finally relaxed into his side, when you flipped your hand over so he could draw little loop de loops on your palm, he quietly asked, “Who’s your favorite?”

“Brian,” said without hesitation. 

Steve groaned, in pain, “Ugh, you would like him the best.”

You laughed, turning to look up at him a bit from where your head had fallen to his shoulder, “Don’t knock him Steve,” you spoke softly, fondly, “You’re a lot more of a dork like him than you think.”

Steve made a pft noise, fingers now interlaced with yours as he turned his head, the tip of his nose touching yours as he looked down at you with the sort of look the guys give the girls in the movies, one that should be illegal from the way it had that family of butterflies shouting about their presence again and fluttering around. 

“Hey Steve?” 

“Hmm?” He hummed, eyelashes fluttering as he sighed when your thumb brushed over his knuckles.

“This is a really great…first date?” You asked, hopeful that it wasn’t just an offer, that you weren’t some game, that the guy next to you was just as crazy about you as you were him. 

“Yeah?” He smiled, proud, and then bragged, “Wait till the second one.”

It was your turn to hum, to look into his eyes and get a little lost as his mouth parted and you both scooted closer, waiting, as he squeezed your fingers wrapped around his. 

“You’re making the ‘I’m about to kiss you face’ again, Steve,” you whispered, lips brushing his as you did.

“Right,” he whispered back, bottom lip catching yours as he suggested, “Which means you should probably stop talking again.”

This kiss wasn’t as easy and smooth, made difficult by grins of fools who were totally in love but wouldn’t admit it just yet, but how could you both not be after years together?

But you smoothed it out quickly, and soon he was swiping his tongue over your bottom lip as his hand gripped at your waist a little tightly. He traced over your top lip as your entire body turned towards his, like a plant in search of sunlight, his body on yours fundamental to your survival.

He gasped as you straddled him, your mouth swallowing the sound as his hands roamed up your sides, taking the hem of your shirt with it so his fingers could scrape at the skin just under your ribs before they dared to drift along the band of your bra.  

You let out a sound that he’d never forget as long as he lived when you finally lowered yourself, skirt fanning over your laps so the sinful way he pressed up against your pristine soaked Calvin’s was slightly hidden. The unclip of your bra and the removal and toss over the seat was fluid, and you couldn’t think about it because the way his hand on your chest felt, the thumb over a pebbled nipple was something you’d only let yourself think about in moments of need before a date that wasn’t him. 

Steve was wrong, the build up was more than half the fun.

The way his hands buzzed against your spine like the air after fireworks, the way his tongue brushed yours, the way he couldn’t help but guide your hips to rock against him. Denim hitting cotton in the exact right spot so the nerves underneath it got the friction they were aching for, while your mind ran away from you, thoughts about how this was just getting started. How there was more. 

His lips left yours and his smile pressed to your jaw when the action got a soft whimper to fall from you. He tutted into your neck, lips grazing over an erratic pulse as he whispered, “Can I touch you?”

“Is that,” your breath hitched around the words as his tongue licked a thick stripe over your neck that extended, “Is that a part of making me dizzy or the more, when I’m sufficiently so?”

“You’re not yet?” His teeth scraped at where his tongue had just been. “I like when you say words like sufficiently, ‘s’hot.”

You laughed as his lips kissed the same spot, and then he was sucking, skin beneath his tongue warm and sending a message to your brain that you liked that a lot. 

“Yeah,” you hiccuped, eyelids fluttering in their view of the car’s roof as you arched and his hands gripped your hips, “Yeah, touch me.”

He didn’t have to be told twice, arm around your waist holding you steady while the other traveled under the hem of your skirt. His mouth moved to below your ear and as his fingers glided up your thigh. He sucked and kissed, and sent that message to your brain again, having you say his name and god’s in the same desperate sentence. 

Steve wasn’t gonna last much longer. 

Especially when his fingers met the wet cotton and you moaned, so much filthier than he’d have thought possible. Especially when he circled over your clit through the fabric and you rolled your hips with the movement, far dirtier than he thought you were capable of. 

“Fuck baby, you’re soaked.” He mouthed at the collar of your rucked up shirt, looking down at the way your hips rolled over his but he couldn’t quite see what was underneath. 

You hid in the crook of his neck, hot, and you didn’t know if it was because the windows were fogged and Steve was so fucking good at this or because you were embarassed by how turned on you were from his next words. 

“Please, I gotta,” he slipped a finger under the fabric and you shuddered as it ran down your slick and back up, “I gotta taste you. I need to put my mouth on you. Let me make you feel good, yeah?”

You were on your back, Calvin’s in a ball on the front seat, with Steve crouched between your thighs not even a minute later. 

Thick fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt from his spot, blown out pupils taking over his stare up at you. One of your converse pushed to the other side of the car against the door as your fingers curled around the base of the sweating window above you. 

Steve kissed your knee, and made his way higher between your legs slowly, until he was flipping your skirt up and swallowing as he stared at the space like it was a fucking artwork. 

You giggled, nervously under the intense awestruck stare, squeezing your eyes shut as he strained to get out, “Fuck, honey, you’re trying to kill me.”

He was mesmerized, the way you clenched around nothing, his thumbs spreading you so he could see just how wet you were for him. 

He was really not gonna last much longer. Straining in his jeans painfully like a teenager. 

And that was before you whimpered, before you said:

“Steve, please.”

“Only,” he swallowed, leaning down so his breath hit your cunt in a way that had your hips wiggling, and him closing his eyes, “Only cause you asked so nicely.”

His thumbs held you open, massaging the sides as his tongue licked once, slow and broad, following the path of his nose up to your clit. He did it again, and again, and again. Until his fingers were slipping inside of you, pumping in and out of walls that held him tightly and his mouth sucked at your clit. Then you tugged, forcefully at the curls at the back of his head and practically screamed his name. Like it was full of only the best letters. Like it was yours. 

Your stomach burned, the butterflies angry and in your chest now too, on fire, but happy about it. Steve’s fingers inside of you and mouth on your clit better than any orgasm you’d ever had, and you couldn’t help it when you came without warning, toes curling inside of your converse that kicked at the door and his thigh, while your fingers slipped on the window and your chest ached for a breath as it yelled his name in a way that the whole world would have to know how you felt when they heard it. 

He didn’t pull away until you were gasping and your thighs were shaking and your fingers loosened in his hair. His cheek pressed to your thigh as he stared up at you and gasped out a proud, smug, “I’d like to see Bender of Brian do that.”

You laughed, tired, but happy, and he crawled up your body, kissing any part of it he could find while he ignored the uncomfortable wet patch in the front of his Levi’s. 

Except you noticed and raised your eyebrows at it, a little smug yourself as you said, “Bet Claire couldn’t do that.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but then you were both flinching as a loud smack of something hit the back window. He glanced up and cursed under his breath, rolling down the window slightly as he called out from on top of you, “Hey, Hop.”

There was a loud, deep, sigh from outside as you both sat up with apologetic faces and Steve rolled down the window further. 

Hopper’s cigarette smoke wafted in as he looked at the pair of you with a touch of surprise when he saw it was you next to Steve in the fogged up beemer. He shook his head, frown under the mustache forced.  “It’s past eleven. On a weeknight. Have some decency and do this at home in front of a movie like normal people next time, yeah?”

You both nodded, your teeth pulling at your lip in a terrible attempt at not smiling. 

He walked away, and you and Steve slapped hands over each other’s laughs and snorts, but you still managed to catch the quiet, “Bout damn time.” 

And when Steve dropped you off at home, with a kiss to seal it all and a promise of a real date tomorrow that he’d pick you up for, you shoved the bunched up Calvin’s in his front pocket with your own promise, whispering in his ear the words “Sincerely, yours” before you left him with his mouth open on the front steps, watching you walk away. 

#superbly subpars writing #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic

[nonranghaes]

hyunjin's... a little disappointed when he opens your gift to find another pair of sketchbooks waiting for him--one still wrapped in plastic, the other not. but he smiles politely nevertheless, always happy to see you taking his hobbies into account, and looks up with a soft, "thank you. i'll use these the soonest--"

you only smile, though, and suddenly he gets the feeling that you know something he doesn't. chris is already searching for the next gift to hand over to him (jisung's, he thinks is what he said), but he looks down at the sketchbook on top with furrowed brows. when he looks at you again, you just mouth to him, "open it."

he glances down and then to you again. here? in front of everyone? what's the point in opening a blank--

oh.

the first page is a careful recreation of a picture you and hyunjin had felix take of you. there's several pictures the two of you admittedly staged so you could post pretty pictures on your anniversary this year (two years!) to gush over one another, and this one is the two of you sitting on a bench, overlooking the river. he leafs through them and he keeps seeing pictures of himself. all lovingly drawn by you, or painted, or inked. art was what brought the two of you together. but how long...?

changbin's leaning over his shoulder now. "woah... did they do these?"

and hyunjin snaps the sketchbook shut, "stop looking at them." changbin can look later, once hyunjin has seen everything for himself. he sets the filled sketchbook into his lap for safekeeping, and accepts jisung's gift when chris hands it over to him.

hyunjin kisses you once everyone is gone, though, and the two of you are cleaning up what the others missed. "i love you," comes so, so easily from him. it always does, but this time it feels like breathing.

you kiss him back, clumsy and against the corner of his lips. "happy birthday, hyunjin. i love you, too."

#nonranghaes.thoughts #nonranghaes.skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagine #skz imagine #stray kids x you #skz x you #stray kids imagines #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fluff #stray kids fluff #skz fluff

[lewisvinga]

this barbie is a director ! | oscar piastri x fem! reader

summary; despite knowing each other since childhood, oscar and y/n haven’t seen each other in years. luckily with the help of a fellow driver, they finally reconnect

fc; carlacrnt

warnings; cursing

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

notes; requested ! probs unrealistic that someone so young would help direct the barbie movie but who cares !

masterlist !

liked by logansargeant, yourbestfriend, and others !

yourusername: EEEK!!! this barbie is a director and is so excited that her first big film is out! forever grateful for everyone who supported me as a wee girl with big big dreams 🥹 look at me now, directing alongside THE greta gerwig 🩷 GO WATCH BARBIE NOW!!

tagged; barbiethemovie

username: THIS BARBIE IS AMAZING

username: omg omg omg

username: the fit is givingggggg

username: she’s so fucking cool

yourbestfriend: EEEEEEEEK Y/NNN SO SO PROUD OF UUUUU!!

yourusername: HEHE LOVE U POOKIE🫶

logansargeant: rmbr when u were ‘g’day, mate!’-ing ur way through miami when u we’re 13 and now you helped direct the barbie movie! so proud of u

yourusername: ok i wasn’t fr saying that everywhere 😣 thank u for being one of my bffs when i moved , love u pookie

yourbestfriend: pookie logan

logansargeant: not this again…

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and others ! yourusername: a bit of relaxation after hectic traveling ! so great to meet old and new friends 🤍

tagged; logansargeant, oscarpiastri, lilymhe, alex_albon, landonorris

username: OMG HELLO??

username: lando and alex i’m😭

logansargeant: i ate all of them up

yourusername: so true logan

yourbestfriend: sure jan!

logansargeant: stfu u weren’t even there

yourbestfriend: i was in paris stfu🕊️🕊️😣

lilymhe: I LOVE. YOU. YOU’RE SO GORGEOUS

yourusername: I LOVE YOUUUU

alex_albon: girls know each other for 1 wk and are saying ily

yourusername: 😣😣

lilymhe: alexander albon. you’re such a guy !

landonorris: i wanna be part of the girlies

yourusername: u already are

username: their comments are so😭😭

username: omg that oscar picture ??

username: logan🥹🥹

username: ugh the dress 😍😍

oscarpiastri:can’t believe logan was friends w my childhood best friend 😒😒

yourusername: u have been my bff since day 1 even if we were no contact from 13-22😞😞

oscarpiastri uploaded to his story !

[caption 1; wide selection of books here hmm…] [ caption 2; been a bookworm since ‘01 !]

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, and others !

yourusername: getting a kelly & reuniting w my one true love , what a summer it has been !

tagged; oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri: thank you logansargeant for asking me to watch barbie 😁

logansargeant: ur welcome now stop kissing in front of me….

oscarpiastri: i love you 🧡 my barbie 🧡

yourusername: i love you, my ken!🩷

username: OWMSMDÑDL

username: oscar looking a little tooooo fine

username: she’s an hermes girly now😍😍

mclaren: all good things come in orange! or should we say, papaya ? 😉

yourusername: ur so right, admin

username: the black kelly is gorgeous 😫

username: tears they’re so cute 🥹

username: they’re so barbie and ken 😣😣

username: she’s sooooo pretty

username: WOWWW

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #formula one social media au #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri scenario #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader

[supershot73199]

Ok I'm back with another dcxdp overprotective Danny fic/prompt. No specific ship for this one.

Though Barbara is there this time.

Barbara couldn't help but smile as she looked at all the little kids in the library doing arts and crafts. She loved seeing all the kids different art projects though if she had to be honest she had a favorite little artist.

"Ms Barbara look look! I drew the Signal he looked so cool on his motorcycle!"

Speak of the devil, the little girl proudly running up to show of her art was named Dawn Nightingale a precious four year old who had mistaken Barbara for her Auntie Jazz the first time they met. (Not that Barbara blamed her she had seen a picture of the girls Aunt and they looked almost identical.)

"That looks wonderful why don't you go pin it to the art wall by the door so everyone can see it?" Barbara said as she looked at the surprisingly well done drawing.

As the four year old ran to do so with a cheer Barbara took a quick look over at the girls father, Danny Nightingale was a single father who from what conversations Barbara had with him had his daughter thrust upon him as a teen and was forced to leave home because of prejudiced parents. Despite this he was a natural father and was doing well to care for her even going so far as to be enrolled in engineering courses at Gotham U even while working full time to support his kid.

The single father was helping some of the younger kids while ignoring the single mothers trying to flirt with him with either practiced grace, or density befitting a black hole.

Before she could go to scare off the more persistent women (for Christs sake some of these women were over a decade older than him) there was a sudden bang as the doors to the library burst open revealed the Joker in all his pasty faced glory.

"Well well what fun! A group art project! It's a good thing I was in the area because now you kiddos get to help with Uncle Jokers art. C'mere brat."

Barbara had hit the panic button on her wheelchair the moment the Joker came through the door but she is not too proud to admit that she froze the moment he reached out and grabbed Dawn who had still been near the door hanging up her picture.

She could see the fear on the child she considered an honorary niece and found it hard to listen to what the demented clown was saying. Not that it mattered as before the Joker finished demanding the library patrons do what he said or else he was suddenly stepping back from the heavy blow that an enraged Danny had dealt.

The Joker having let go of Dawn, who ran to Barbara as soon as she was free, could not even seem to muster a defense as Danny beat him right out the door. Every weapon or gag he tried to pull out was either knocked aside or grabbed and used on him. The last thing Barbara saw before the door swung shut was Danny taking the flag gun the Joker tried to pull out and breaking it on the Jokers face.

With her arms now full of crying toddler Barbara did her best to comfort her and just as soon as she managed to calm her the door opening made her look up only to see Danny walking back in.

"Daddy!" The ballistic missile shaped like a toddler leapt into her fathers arms as he held her close.

"It's OK. It's all good. Daddy won't ever let anyone hurt you OK? There isn't anything in this world or the next that will keep me from you."

Barbara turned from the heartwarming display but only because she heard the door opening again thankfully this time it was Signal walking in Barbara figured he must have already secured the Joker since he didn't seem to be in a rush.

"Hey is everyone OK in here? Any injuries? No ok then I'm going to ask you all to stay in here and stay calm until the GCPD can take statements and get done scraping the Joker off the curb." The nervous undercurrent to Dukes voice should have clued Barbara that something was different but then that last statement hit her. Danny must have knocked the Joker out before coming back inside.

Speaking of Danny he was walking over with a Dawn who had fallen asleep in his arms after crying herself out.

"Hey I wanted to thank you for comforting Dawn. This situation was not something she should have been exposed to and I'm glad that she had someone trustworthy nearby to go to. And I am sorry buy I need to ask you one more favor... do you think you could watch Dawn until my sister gets off work if the cops detain me?"

Barbara couldn't help but double take at that.

"I don't mind but I doubt that will happen." She assured.

"Maybe but I did just stain the street with Jokers brain matter. So it's definitely a non zero chance."

Barbara couldn't help it, she was dumbfounded clearly she was mishearing.

"I'm sorry I must be hearing things, it sounded like you said you killed the Joker."

"Yeah I did. I won't let anyone hurt my family especially not that Steven King reject."

The next couple hours passed in a haze of reassuring parents and answering questions from the police for Barbara.

Thankfully Danny was not detained and was allowed to take Dawn home. Though he did ask Detective Bullock if he needed to be worried about and charges being pressed.

"Haha kid your more likely to get a medal or a holiday for this. Everyone has been hurt by that clown in some way.

Later when she was finally able to get the the clock tower she was unsurprised to find Jason waiting for her there. Clearly he had the same idea that she had, that is using her camera outside the library so that she could see what happened for closure.

The pair watched as this young man beat the Joker back at a different angle than when she saw it earlier that day. But shortly after the door shut she saw it happen so fast a trip over the step with Joker having the wind knocked out of him throwing a loose piece of concrete at the single father who caught it and the proceeded to bash the failed jester until he was unrecognizable.

Jason was the first to break the silence.

"I'm going to need a copy of that video and I suggest you make another one to give to Harley at your next girls night with the sirens."

"Deal but only if you get Alfred to help me cook him thank you meal."

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny fenton #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #dp au #dani phantom is now dawn #de-aged dani #joker #minor gore #cw: gore

[azulpitlane]

i wish you would I ln4

pairings: lando norris x reader, exbf! mason mount x reader summary: part two of got love struck notes: kinda dragged making this but finals are finally over so send me some requests pls🤸‍♀️ this ones kinda angsty and there's lots of miscommunication sorry hehe part three, masterlist

yourusername posted a story 2h ago

The night was full of partying, drinking and dancing as you celebrated your best friend's 23rd birthday. The night quickly turned into a mess when you went to the bar to get everyone more drinks. When you came back your friends were nowhere to be seen, you assumed they were in the dance floor but when you went to check, they weren't there either. To make matters worse, you had put your phone in your friend's purse for safe keeping so you had no way to contact them. The panic quickly sobered you up as you looked everywhere for them but instead you found different a familiar face.

"Mason?"

"Y/n! Hey, I didn't realize you were here."

Your ex-boyfriend went for a hug as he greeted you. You and Mason ended your relationship over a year ago, and though you felt no animosity towards the football player, the breakup had been hard as everybody on the internet seemed to have an opinion on it. It was mutual breakup, you both were in different stages in your life and it just seemed like it wasn't your time.

"Yeah, I was celebrating y/bff/n's birthday with a few other girls, but I have no idea where they are and they have my cell." You were starting to get frustrated as you felt like they left without you.

"Oh no, I would help you look but I'm about to head out. Let me give you a ride home, I would hate for you to be here by yourself."

You knew if somebody saw you and Mason alone it would cause chaos all over again, but you had no other choice at the moment and you just wanted to go to bed. You agreed and as you left you both were oblivious to the cameras taking pictures of you leaving through the back door together.

As you pulled up to your hotel you smiled at Mason and thanked him.

"You're a lifesaver Mase seriously, I don't know what I would've done if I never found them or you."

"You don't have to thank me y/n. I will always look out for you even if we're broken up. I still care for you."

"You're a great friend, I'll always look out for you too."

"And um I have to ask,"

You could tell he was nervous as he scratched the back of his neck and his cheeks flushed slightly.

"What is it Mase?"

"Do you love him?"

You were surprised by the question, not expecting him to bring up Lando.

"Um yeah-yes. I love him so much, I can't even find the words to describe it to be honest. I don't think any song I write can even measure to how strong my love is for him."

"That's good, yeah, that's great. I just, I'm happy you found your person y/n. You know, I thought that person would be me, but if you're happy, than I am too. I guess we just weren't meant to be."

"Mase, you're one of the most amazing people I've met, seriously. I don't think it was ever in the cards for us, but you've taught me so much and you'll always have a special place in my heart. You will find your person one day, I promise."

You smiled at Mason as you spoke, not realizing you had given him the closure he had been needing for a year.

Lando was freaking out.

He had been sent the article of you and Mason over 5 times already and you hadn't answered your phone in over 2 hours. His mind was reeling as he was thinking about what you could possibly be doing right now. Even though he trusted you more than anything, he couldn't help but let it get to him. Why aren't you answering?

He knew your phone was charged and turned on considering he can still see your location. As he checked it again, he realized you were no longer at the club. You were at someone's apartment. Why weren't you at your hotel? Who's apartment was this?

Before he let himself jump to conclusions, he called y/bff/n knowing you two went out together.

"LANDOOOO! HI."

"Y/bff/n, hey is y/n with you?"

"Y/n? Oh nooooo. Aw I miss her Lan, is she with you?"

"What? No, how could she be with me? I'm in Monaco right now."

"Oh. Then I'm not so sure."

Lando could feel himself getting frustrated as he spoke with the clearly intoxicated girl.

"Okay, did she go home with you? With anyone else?"

"I don't know, you should probably call her or something."

"I did, over 10 times in the past hour."

"Oh maybe she's busy! Let me know how it goes, bye!"

"Wait-"

She hung up. Lando was going to throw up. He was never considered himself as an insecure guy, but he couldn't help but feel there was something going on. He's seen those tweets and comments saying how much everyone loved you and Mason together. What if those comments made you realize they were right? What if you were with Mason right now? Lando wanted to cry, scream and throw up all at once.

Three loud knocks woke you up from your beauty sleep. You were still in last night's clothes as you were too tired to even change after the nights disaster. You opened the door and your best friend ran in and hugged you.

"Y/N! I'm so so sorry for leaving you all by yourself. I was completely blacked out and I guess I was acting sloppy because y/f/n said we got kicked out of the club! I was acting too drunk and they got mad im so so sorry, this is all my fault and we tried to tell security to get you but they were so mean and-"

"Y/bff/n stop. It's fine, it was your birthday, you deserved to act a little crazy."

"Still babe, I'm sorry. Now that article is being spread like crazy and it's all because of me."

"What are you talking about? What article?"

"Shit. I forgot, here's your phone. But I have to warn you, people saw you leaving the club with Mason last night and the rumors have already begun. Im sorry hun."

Oh god.

Lando🧡 15 missed calls 5 unread messages

YourPublicist 2 missed calls 1 unread message

Danny Ric🤠 2 unread messages

Y/f/n 8 unread messages

The notifications were endless as you scrolled through your phone but there was only one that you really cared about. You immediately called Lando, afraid he was angry at you for this mess.

"Lan, baby, I'm so sorry for worrying you. I just opened your messages, y/bff/n had my phone all night." You immediately gave him a run down of the night as you knew what it was like to be in his position. The media has circulated so many rumors about your relationship overnight and you knew how hard that was. You had dealt with it all throughout your career and you were heartbroken it was happening to Lando because of you.

"That's weird because I actually called y/bff/n last night and she did not mention she had your phone."

"She was so out of it last night, she probably forgot she even had it. Oh god, she was downing shots I'm honestly not even surprised she got kicked out, she was so crazy-"

"Y/n, you don't understand, I have not slept all night. I was worried and everyone is talking about this. I look like an idiot in this situation."

You knew Lando was going to be upset but after your explanation, you didn't expect for him to still be angry at you.

"I know, the night was a mess, but nothing happened with Mason. He just dropped me off and I'm grateful it was him and not some random taxi."

"You're grateful it was him? You're grateful these pictures are all over the internet?"

"That's not what I meant! I meant he was the safest option at that moment, I had nobody else."

"Yeah. Half of the internet is happy it was him. People are actually celebrating thinking you guys are back together."

"Don't listen to them Lan, me and Mase are never getting back together. People will accept it over time and this will blow over."

"Why are you being so casual about this? Do you even know how I felt last night when you weren't answering. I was going to be sick thinking what you could possibly be doing with him."

"Lan, I told you nothing happened. Why aren't you believing me?"

"This is just all too much." Lando knew he was overreacting a bit. Your story made sense and it all lined up, but he had spent the entire night overthinking and reading the rumors about you two that he couldn't get them out of his mind. He loved you so much and last night made him realize how easily he can lose you and that thought terrified him. You were everything to him, but did you really feel the same way?

"Are you breaking up with me? Seriously? Over a stupid tabloid, I can't believe this." You felt betrayed. Did he not trust you?

"I dont know, it's just hard for me wrap my head around this right now."

"Lan, my flight to Monaco leaves in a few hours, how about we just talk about this in person when our heads are clear?"

Lando was getting angrier as the call went on. He knew his insecurities were getting the best of him right now but he felt like you weren't listening to him. You were trying to brush this off when the whole world was going against you two right now.

"Wow Y/n. My heads pretty fucking clear right now. You know what? Maybe it's best if you don't come, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay."

one week later

liked by user 1, user 2, masonmount and 3,593,304 others

yourusername life atm. p.s all new music released from now on is coming from the comfort of my own bed <3

comments on this post have been limited

yourbff love u. coming over rn🏃‍♀️

yourusername pls dont forget snacks

taylorswift need this new album right now

danielricciardo ❤️‍🩹

liked by user1, user2 and 231,583 others

dailymail Singer Y/n Y/l/n spotted once again with Manchester United star, Mason Mount, leaving a restaurant with a few other football players. Are the two officially back together? Rumors of her breakup with Formula One driver, Lando Norris have been circulating for over a week now after Y/l/n and Mount were seen leaving a club together. Read more on this new love triangle in our article linked in our bio.

view comments

user1 im so excited for this album HAHAHA

user2 team mason idc

user3 funny how the last song she dropped was titled slut, if the shoe fits :)

user4 slut shaming in 2023? disgusting.

user5 i refuse to believe her and lando broke up sorry

user6 delulu is the solulu atp😁

notes: another cliffhanger!!!🤸‍♀️also this isn't proofread at all my bad heh

tags: @jayrami3 @whoselly @roseseraj @saturnbloom77 @landowecanbewc

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #ln4 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris x you #lando norris smau #mason mount x reader

[jarofstyles]

Illicit

Hello my loves! Welcome to the first part of our next mini series we've been working on behind the scenes. The next 2 parts are available immediately on Patreon now, but will be updated here in the next few weeks!

Patreon

Warnings- cheating ( WITH y/n), Asshole Harry, I hate everyone but her, old money/wealth, toxic relationship dynamic, harry is mean and will be mean but not to Y/N lmao, smut

WC- 2.4k

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

Harry had just finished cleaning himself of cum as his phone rang. 

It was his girlfriend. ‘Girlfriend’, really, because this wasn’t a real relationship. Not in his mind, anyways. 

“What?” His voice was a sharp whip, already annoyed that the post orgasm bliss had been interrupted by Katherine. Y/N was sitting next to him, her leg thrown over his thigh as fingers traced over his chest, absentminded circles pausing when she heard his attitude already. Her brow raised as he lifted the phone to show the name on the screen, making her nod, lips turning down. That irritated him further. 

“When are you coming to get me?” A voice that pierced his ears made him close his eyes, a dull throb beginning to coast down his head. “Daddy said you’re coming to the event and you were going to pick me up!” 

She was huffing like a child, not wanting to wait. Realistically, he would leave in 30 minutes. Y/N would stay curled up in his bed and wait for him to come home before he took her away to one of his family cabin’s with the rest of their friend group- the ones who knew of him and Y/N. He would spend the entire night trying to think of an excuse to get back to her early, and hoping Katherine wouldn’t throw a fit about not being able to come on this ‘business trip’.  

“You live with your father. Could you have not shared a ride?” His tone was icy, something Y/N had never been the recipient of. Thank god, really. As sexy as it was to hear him talk like that to other people, it would definitely make her cry. The man was intense, even he knew that, but not everyone seemed to catch on. 

“Hazza! Come on.” She whined. “He already left and stopped by the office. I’m getting ready now but we have to be early for the photos!” As if that was going to help her cause. It was like the girl had a handbook on how to say the wrong things. 

Harry didn’t do those stupid step and repeats. While Katherine loved being the center of attention, it wasn’t something Harry desired. In actuality, he detested it. He hated paparazzi and had broken 2 cameras from having them in his face without a second glance. No aggression, the picture of calm with pure ice on his face as he did so. If they valued their possessions, they shouldn’t be shoving them in people’s way. That’s what he thought, at least. 

“I’ll be there in an hour. I’m not doing those photos. I don’t care what you do. Now stop calling me when I'm in the middle of things. You know if I don’t answer once, wait for further instruction.” He paused. “And stop calling me that childish nickname. I don’t find it cute or endearing, it’s embarrassing. Goodbye.”

There was a sharp squeak as he hung up the phone and threw it to the ground, rolling Y/N around onto her back and sliding his still sticky cock back inside of her yet again. His annoyance was clear on his face, but it quickly melted away as her arms wrapped around him and her lips covered his face with soft coos, legs pulling him in deeper. Maybe she was a bit sore, maybe his last load was still dripping out of her messy hole, but she knew exactly how the man needed to express himself. 

“I know.” Her silky voice wrapped around his tension and broke it down, slow thrusts inside of her quelling the bubbling irritation in his stomach and turning it into arousal. Y/N could read his stone cold features, knew what his eye twitch meant, the simple movement of a brow or the tiniest down or upturn of lip. This magnificent woman seemed to have him all figured out, and he felt like shit for having to leave and be seen with another woman. “I know, baby. Only a few more months.” Fingers stroked his hair back, guiding his lips to her own.

 He kissed her back, eyes squeezing shut as he allowed himself to lose the anger that had developed by focusing on her. The heat of her cunt wrapped up tight around him, snug. Fitting him perfectly, just as it always had. Y/N was the one he had wanted to take to these things, but he had to wait. For once, his patience wasn’t being practiced. 

The best thing in his life had to be hidden from most people, all because he had taken a stupid deal. He had to go out with the girl who thought she was going to be the next Mrs.Styles, while all he wanted to do was stay nestled in his luxury sheets with Y/N’s soft, supple body to worship. 

It was all his fault, though. 

He had always been ambitious. Ruthless, some may say, but he knew that to a degree he could be cruel to get what he wanted. That was how had been raised. His father had put that right into his head, doing anything for success, power, money… that’s how he ended up in this situation. 

In order to secure the deal of a lifetime, he had agreed to date the man’s daughter. Maybe that sounded cruel, but he knew the intentions from the get go. The man was using his conventionally pretty, high society daughter to try and sweeten the deal- but he knew the true motivation. An attempt to get him into the family and continue having control of the company through his daughter’s supposed relationship with him. If only he had been smarter, if he had done more research. He would know he was sending a sacrificial lamb right into Harry’s awaiting lion jaws. 

See, she had been no stranger to him. Katherine had been after him for quite a while. They were acquainted to a certain degree, running in similar circles and society dinners. The crush, more so the obsession she had with Harry had been no secret to anyone. She claimed to have been in love with him, but Harry knew what it truly was. A lust for money. An infatuation with the power he could secure her. She loved what Harry could represent for her, not only to secure place in the society she had been thrown into as she grew up- but to elevate it. She knew the score, knew what Harry’s ring could mean. 

Katherine knew nothing of his true personality, his likes, his dislikes, his jokes. All of those things were reserved for the tiniest selection of people that she only knew of in passing. His real friends barely touched that superficial, vapid, bitter world. Katherine’s family was new money, looking to secure their place in society. Harry’s wealth went in decades, and it would most likely stay that way. Her vying for his attention didn’t shock him in the slightest. 

The condition of dating Katherine for at least a year had been one he had wanted to scoff at, one he had wanted to tell Mr. Eugene Brant that it would be obvious what it was, but he was smart enough to bite his tongue and agree. Playing stupid was a superpower, letting him think he got one over on Harry and vastly overestimating his daughter’s appeal. One year of being toted around with her overly big smile and his signature scowl on his face hadn’t been an issue. It was something he would merely go through the motions of until the exact year was up and she would be out of his life. 

At least, it hadn’t been until he met Y/N. 

The first woman who had ever captured his heart and soul. Softened the edges of his razor sharp glare.

She hadn’t wanted to give him the time of day once she realized he had been flirting whilst not single. She hadn’t known the deceptive relationship and it hadn’t been her fault, but that didn’t mean Harry was going to leave well enough alone. Even after she had dumped her  Shirley temple on his brand new pure cotton button up. 

If anything, it made him want her more. 

One thing about Harry? He was going to get what he wanted. He would bet anything on it. He was patient, stubborn, and fixated. Checking guest lists to see if she’d be in attendance to parties, see if she was going to hang out with his friend group, he was on the prowl to get her to talk again. 

She had blocked his number already- he didn’t really have a chance to explain. He understood why, but that didn’t mean he was going to give up. 

When he finally did have the shot to tell her the relationship was a hoax, she was still doubtful. Dubious looks sent his way as he had pulled them into a private room of the club they were at- one his father owned, funnily enough- his hand holding hers as he sat beside her to plead his case. He was strong and defiant, insisting that it was a means to an end and there was no clause saying he couldn’t date other people- but he would like to get to know her on a real level. 

Against her better judgment, Y/N had fallen for the soft green eyes, the soft looking lips with the sharp cupid's bow and his even sharper tongue. Giving him one date was all he needed to get her on board. 

Fidelity wasn’t a term in the contract he had signed. Stupid, stupid mistake on Brant’s part. A new money, no lawyer to look over, a hasty mistake that would most definitely come to bite him in the ass. Harry hadn’t honored fidelity in the slightest even before he met Y/N. Sex was an outlet for him, as was the gym, things that were pleasurable and stress relieving. He’d only slept with Katherine a handful of times, tapering that off when he saw it made her get more and more attached. She had obviously known Harry had a reputation and while the sex had been alright, there hadn’t been much to his benefit besides the fact that she swallowed his load. 

Surprisingly, it wasn’t that hard to find willing participants. 

Sex with Y/N had completely rocked his world. He thinks, in part, it was because they had a real connection. She made him wait, she made him work his way up to that if he wanted- and made him stop sex with anyone else. As if he had any interest in anyone else. Y/N had taken up the majority of his brain that wasn’t filled with revenue and contracts and contacts and emails. She was his escape. 

The first time they had sex, Harry had fallen for her. There was no question in his mind. Despite being positive that he wouldn’t ever marry for love, Y/N had him questioning that. She had flipped his entire world view upside down, made him weak in the knees. 

Y/N wasn’t in the public eye. Her family had some elite ties, but she was friends with a lot of the quietly wealthy people who didn’t feel the need to showcase it to everyone who looked with tacky labels and monograms. She’d gotten into one of the best schools, gotten her degree and continued her friendship with her roommates and best friends- who just happened to be the girlfriends of some of his best mates. The real ones. There were only a few single members of the groups, and Y/N had been the new blood that had people wondering. Harry had been interested immediately. 

It was about 4 months into their relationship and everything still felt fantastic. Y/N knew more about Harry than anyone else ever could. She was the one with the key to the future, even if she didn’t know the exact depths his feelings went to. 

“I don’t want to go.” His lips parted from hers. “I want to stay here… want to stay buried inside of you, want to feed you your chocolate and lick it from your tongue.” Inhaling his words, she moaned as his hips rolled and he found his home back at her most sensitive spot. He had spent hours finding it, claiming it, and he knew it was his. “Spent all week working… I just want my sweet Angel.”

Noses brushed against one another, Y/N’s bleary eyes opening up to look at his own. Hazy, dark green, hooded. She gently dragged her nails over his shoulder blades, arching up into him and pressed a bit harder on the skin to make him moan in surprise. “You have me, Harry.” She whispered. “You have me now. Leave with my traces on your cock… then come back and take more. We leave tomorrow… and you can hold me how you like. Kiss me. Our friends don’t care. They’ll keep our secret.” Even if it was forbidden, their tight knit group knew exactly what the relationship between Harry and Katherine really was- and none really liked her. They knew Y/N made him happy, softened him up, they’d all been rooting for this. Their safe space. The only ones who knew. 

“She won’t ever have me.” He reassured. “I’m yours. I want your marks on me.” Breathing harder, his thrusts getting a bit more deep. “Make me bleed. C’mon, my sweet girl. Paid for those nails… give me what I want.” Her cunt quivered around his prick, making him smile. She pretended not to like that sort of thing, but she got them done specifically for this. To quench his thirst for pain, for marks. They loved it. “She’ll never have me like this. I’m yours.” He whimpered, the freak of the bed and their noises filling the room. “M’yours, baby. My sweet Angel… stay in my bed and wait for me. I’ll give you everything. Just wait for me.” 

She would. She would wait for him, to be his fully, as long as it took.

#illicit #ilicitrry #cheaterry #cheatrry #jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #Harry smut #Harry fluff #Harry angst #Harry styles fluff #Harry styles angst #ceo harry styles #ceo harry #harry styles ceo #ceorry

[notjaexiee]

CHERRY LIPGLOSS SUCKS

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: You and Regina have a long-standing history together, and now, with your exes pairing up in a new relationship, you are reluctantly forced to work together to win them back. Will the familiarity bring you closer, or will old habits resurface, leading to further tensions?

Warnings: Mentions of weed, Manipulative regina, profanity and pretty bad writing

1.2k words

A/N:This is my first time writing a fanfic guys sue me 😔🙏

"Kiss me."

"What-" My eyes widened as cherry-flavored lipglossed lips suddenly pressed into mine, cutting off my breath and words.

How the hell did it lead to this?

2 WEEKS AGO

"What the fuck?" I muttered, my eyes widening in disbelief as I stared at my phone screen. Tina, was there in the photo, holding hands with none other than Aaron Samuels

It was a recent picture, uploaded just minutes ago, with over a hundred likes already on an account called North Shore Couples. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"N/N?" my friend Mae asked, concern evident in her voice. "You practically look like you've seen a ghost - are you alright?"

I hastily shove my phone in her face (figuratively, not literally), revealing the Instagram post I had found.

"Holy crap." she gasped, equally stunned. Brynn, our friend seated beside Mae, leaned over to get a glimpse of my phone.

"No way...Thats your ex right?" Brynn confirmed "didnt she say she was a lesbian?!" She exclaimed taking my phone.

"Exactly!" I retorted, the pain of my recent breakup with Tina after a simple misunderstanding had only happened two weeks ago, and I had been tirelessly trying to win her back by giving her flowers and chocolates daily and attempting to engage in conversation whenever we crossed paths - though she always snubbed me with a curt reply. And now, here she was, holding hands with Aaron Samuels.

My heart practically shattered into a zillion tiny pieces.

"Hold up, I thought Aaron was with Regina?" Ander dingles(if you get this i love you), our other friend interjects, snatching my phone from brynn to also examine the image.

Regina.

I can't help but wonder how she's taking it right now. My gaze instinctively drifts towards the "plastics" table, only to find the trio deeply engaged in a discussion, most likely gossiping - Their speciality

"They broke up three days ago, you doofus," Mae replied, rolling her eyes at Ander, who merely shrugged and replied "They always break up."

"I bet they'll get back together again in three days," Brynn countered, taking my phone from Ander again and glancing at the photo.

As I looked back at Regina, I saw her friend Gretchen, wide-eyed, showing her phone to the blonde. Upon seeing the screen, Regina froze for a moment before snatching the phone and accidentally dropping her fork on her tray. The cafeteria grew a bit quieter, likely because everyone knew what Gretchen had just shown Regina. Whispers spread throughout the room, adding to the tension.

"She must have found out," I muttered, turning back to my friends, oblivious to the sharp blue eyes fixated on the back of my head. As Mae grabbed my phone to scrutinize the picture again.

"Can you guys stop playing hot potato with my phone? You each have your own, for goodness sake!" I exclaimed, snatching my phone back from Mae, my irritation simmering, uncertain whether its from their phone-passing antics, my ex's sudden change in orientation, or the fact that I had been busting my ass for two long weeks just to win her back.

The chatter in the cafeteria suddenly resumed as everyone returned to their own conversations and cliques.

-

"Damn it," I muttered to myself, searching frantically through my pockets, "where the hell is it?" The math class had ended, leaving me mentally drained. I decided to take a quick break to ease my mind, but my stress levels were skyrocketing as I failed to locate my blinker in any of my pockets.

"Looking for this?" Regina's voice rang out, causing a shiver to run down my spine.

I quickly turned around, my nerves on edge, as I spotted her holding my blinker between her forefinger and thumb.

Panic surged through me, but I quickly attempted to remain composed as I glanced around the empty classroom, thankful that we were alone. "How did you get that?"

Regina responded with a snarky tone, rolling her eyes. "You don't exactly hide them very well," she quipped.

I squinted my eyes at her, dissatisfied with her dismissive answer.

With a hint of annoyance, she clarified, "It was quite literally hanging off your bag, you bimbo."

Her heels clicked against the floor as she approached me.

Regina extended her hand, offering my blinker as if she were a benevolent angel.

With caution and suspicion, I edged closer to take it, but she swiftly pulled her hand away with a mischievous smirk on her face.

I sigh, "What's the catch?" I asked irritably, knowing damn well there was something she wanted from me.

Regina feigned surprise with a sarcastic remark, "You know me so well."

"You must already know about the new couple, right?" she posed, her tone laced with insincerity.

The mention of the recent pairing of Aaron and my ex, Tina, caused me to roll my eyes.

"yeah, what about them?" I grumbled.

"They're quite the couple, aren't they?" Regina commented, though her tone lacked genuine warmth.

I huffed in frustration and demanded, "Just get to the point."

"I need your help." She says fidgeting with my blinker

"What?" I replied, raising an eyebrow questioningly. Regina stated with certainty, "Tina's your ex, right?" I nodded in affirmation.

She then added, "Well, I'm pretty sure she still has the hots for you." I couldn't help but chuckle incredulously, signaling for her to continue, my skepticism evident.

"Yeah sure, her responses to my attempts definitely suggest otherwise," I retorted dryly.

Regina disregarded my remark, "And im sure you probably want her back, just like I want Aaron back." She planted herself in one of the classroom chairs, resting her palm beneath her chin as she looked up at me, causing my jaw to clench at the mention of Aaron's name.

"That boy is incredibly naive," Regina continued. "He always comes crawling back to me, but now it's more challenging with Tina Twat around." Her gaze fixed on me, she proposed, "You can make TIna jealous and I'll make Aaron insecure, and thus, he'll come rushing back to me."

"That's manipulative," I pointed out to Regina.

She responded with a dismissive scoff, "Pfft, of course it is!" A small chuckle escaped her as her expression remained cold and mocking.

"So...lets team up" Regina suggested, looking me straight in the eyes. "just like old times, yeah?"

...

"Do you think we'll still be friends in the future?."

"Of course!"

...

"Fuck no."

Her smile faded at my rejection, replaced by a sly smirk. "Then I suppose you wouldn't mind if the school council were to find out about you and your friends little, not so legal herb business?"

Regina's smirk widened as I reluctantly backed down, not wanting my friends to get into trouble.

"I'll take that as a yes" She smiled victorious as she rose from her seat, sauntering towards me with an arrogant air. She took hold of my blinker, taking a quick hit before deliberately blowing the smoke in my face. As she placed it against my lips, I could taste the lingering sweetness of her cherry lip gloss.

"Ill see you tomorrow, after school, underneath the bleachers. Bye." Regina says, her voice laced with a mix of victory and satisfaction. She waved her fingers as she walked away, leaving me standing there, contemplating the situation.

"Cherry lipgloss sucks"

#regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x fem!reader #mean girls musical #mean girls #mean girls 2024 #regina george imagine #regina george x you

[fairuzfan]

I don't want to add it to the post (bc I don't want to get into it with assholes) but! I'm literally Japanese-American, and I would say that Hiroshima and Nagasaki are similar to Gaza and Rafah not just in the amount of firepower directed at them but in that they're both CIVILIAN POPULATIONS. it's not about the nuclear weapons (reading comprehension website.jpeg) it's about the inhumanity of the collective punishment in service of US interests. Hiroshima and Nagasaki were not individual or unique events -- look at Laos, look at Cambodia, look at Vietnam and Korea and what the States did there!! it doesn't "lessen" the horror or tragedy at all to compare them to Palestine now, especially if that comparison will help to stop it. I need white ppl to shut the fuck up about Japan permanently I stg anyways sorry people are being weird and fuckshit about this.

I think people are stuck on the differences and not willing to look at similarities when it comes to Gaza. Like when we compare its not in an effort to dismiss the differences and "triviliaze" (hate when they say that) but to show "Hey remember when something really bad happened back then? And everyone today is like I can't believe that happened? You can stop something like that from happening today by helping here" which people are allergic to doing for Palestine because they're so caught up in the minutae that they can't see the big picture. I've seen descendants of survivors of Vietnam say this is exactly what happened to them. I've seen Bosnian Genocide survivors say the gaslighting is similar to what they experienced. Holocaust survivors and their descendents! Even Hiroshima in the modern day is drawing parallels! We need to make comparisons to examine similarities and contextualize events in history. Why else learn world history if not to understand the patterns of operation in the modern day? You have beliefs surrounding certain atrocities, things like "I won't let that happen again" or "I would fight that" and that's why people are drawing parallels. To make people take action.

And this isn't limited to just Gaza, people do the same with Sudan and DRCongo. And people who do it for sudan even claim to support Palestine! Even though Gazans are asking people to pay attention to Sudan because they see themselves in their struggle! No one is paying attention to the main idea "stop this before it gets worse"!!!! It's already so bad for all these places and that damage is irreversible in that people live with it for the rest of their lives but yes! We can stop it before a complete erasure happens! It's possible! These comparisons are necessary and important!

[musical-shit-show]

electric touch

Pairing: Adam (Hazbin Hotel) x Sinner!Reader

Inspiration: My own silly idea but also Prompts #70 (“are you actually trying to seduce me right now?”) and #86 (“they don’t need to know.”) from Prompt List 2

Warnings: Cursing, mutual pining, Adam is still kind of an asshole (duh), suggestive dialogue

Word Count: 1,363

Author’s Note: I just really wanted the mental picture of Adam in some rocker eyeliner, so I wrote it. That’s about it, just being very normal about this character :3 If anyone has seen any fanart of Adam with eyeliner, my DMs are always open. As always check out my Masterlist, About Me page, or Prompt Lists if you’d like to submit an ask! Happy reading! :)

“What’s that?”

You scoffed at the fallen angel lounging lazily on your bed, watching you intently as you went through your makeup routine.

You had just grabbed an eyeliner pencil, and were in the middle of smudging the smokey kohl onto your eyelids when Adam interrupted you.

“What, you didn’t have eyeliner in heaven?” you smirked, looking at him through the mirror on your vanity. Even in such a relaxed state, he still kept that stupid mask on.

He shook his head, “Why would we need makeup in a place where everyone’s fuckin’ perfect and poised 24/7?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you accepted the answer. Made sense, anyways. From what you heard from Charlie, Heaven probably looked like a dream come true. Why would anyone need to alter their appearance in a place like that?

Turning back to the task at hand, you jumped slightly when Adam appeared behind you, his face incredibly close to your own. He was studying you intently, his digital eyes flickering over your expression.

“Ugh, what is with you, dude?”

His eyes narrowed, lips forming into a tight line. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was…thinking. Which is not an activity Adam seemed to engage in, especially before speaking.

“It looks…good.” he muttered, feeling his face getting warm under his mask, “I guess I never really noticed it before.” You quirked an eyebrow, a small smile flashing across your face.

Ever since he turned up on the hotel’s doorstep practically begging for help from the Princess of Hell, Adam had decided to latch himself on to you. For what reason, you didn’t know; it didn’t particularly matter since any attempts to rid yourself of him were completely fruitless.

He was definitely an asshole, but he could be mildly amusing from time to time.

“Do you…do you want me to put some on you?”

He blinked stupidly. “I’m not gay, toots,” he deadpanned, “Despite what that little spider twink downstairs thinks—”

“No, no that’s not what I meant,” you cut in, trying to stifle your laughter at his remark, “But makeup transcends sexuality.” He scoffed, letting his insecurity wash over him.

Adam would never admit it you or Charlie or anyone else at the hotel, but being here made him feel less alone than he ever felt in Heaven.

Up there, he was practically ignored, even treated as a nuisance by the seraphim and other higher ups. Which he was, but that was beside the point.

He was already ashamed of himself for asking Lucifer’s brat of all people for help, but he had nowhere else to turn and felt completely alone. Except when he was with you.

Although you were a sinner too, you didn’t judge him as harshly as the others. Hell, you were able to stand up to him, even reason with him when he was particularly crabby.

It scared him, though he’d never let you know that. He’d rather get stabbed through the chest again than be vulnerable.

Standing up, you gestured to the edge of the bed, encouraging Adam to sit down again. He hesitated for a moment, not willing to trust you fully.

“You know,” you drawled, “some of the greatest rockers on Earth wear eyeliner. And looks sexy as fuck doing it.”

Adam’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity.

“And,” you added, “A lot of ladies are actually into it. I swear.” He blew a raspberry in dismissal, still not fully convinced. He decided to humor you anyway; he had nothing better to do.

“Ugh, fine,” he whined, “You’re lucky I’m bored, sugartits.” He plopped onto your bed, faltering slightly when removing his mask; you rarely saw him without it, and were struck by how, well, human he looked.

You couldn’t dwell on his appearance for long; you needed entertainment for the evening and didn’t want to wait for him to change his mind. With the pencil in hand, you swiftly went to work on his minor makeover.

You were close. Dangerously close, Adam thought to himself. So close that he was almost pissed that his eyes were closed so he couldn’t get a good look down your shirt.

He could feel your soft breath on his face, the almost imperceptible noises you were making while concentrating intently on shaping his new look. He almost flinched when your hand gripped the side of his face gently, tilting it up slightly to give you a better angle to complete your work.

Your fingers tingled on his skin, silence filling the space in a way that was new to Adam; he usually reveled in sucking the air out of any room he was in, but he was now focused so keenly on the steadiness of your breathing and the looming presence of your body so, so close to his.

Fuck.

He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, and for the first time in his very long existence, Adam actually tried to hide his arousal from you. “Almost done,” you muttered, examining the canvas of his eyelids closely.

You couldn’t help but notice that even though he was fallen, Adam still retained rather…angelic features. Perfect skin, tousled brown hair, annoyingly long eyelashes. You tried to not gaze at him for too long, but with his eyes currently closed, you couldn’t help but stare.

“Ah, okay, open up,” you said, feeling a quiver arise in your throat. He blinked, bright gold eyes accentuated perfectly by the dark liner.

Satan help you. He looked hot.

You realized you were still leaning incredibly close to his face, and before you could stumble backwards, Adam flashed a mischievous smile. “Damn babe, I must look pretty good if you’re giving me ‘fuck me’ eyes.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Shhhh,” he stood up, pressing his finger to your lips. Your attraction to him was quickly replaced with annoyance, even with him looking like a rockstar you might’ve had a crush on when you were still living.

You pushed his hand away, your stomach twisting. Leave it to Adam to ruin an actual good moment between the two of you.

“Are you actually trying to seduce me right now?”

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“Not in the slightest,” you lied. He brushed past you, considering his reflection in your vanity mirror.

“Fuck, I do look good,” he mused, getting an eyeful of himself. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. His gaze flitted to you, studying your form. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “Come on, aren’t you the least bit curious about how good this dick would look in that pretty little mouth of yours?

You crossed your arms over your chest, doing your best to act disgusted at that mental picture. “Only in your dreams,” you muttered, hoping the heat traveling up your neck wasn’t visible. Adam stood up to face you again, his mouth curving into a wicked smile. “They don’t need to know,” he purred, his eyes flicking towards the door, referencing the other residents of the hotel. “It can be our little secret.”

His fingers brushed your waist delicately, and you felt your heartbeat quicken as he squeezed the side of your body. He looked hungry, possessive, the dark pigment around his eyes only enhancing the intensity of his glare.

You gulped. You had to come up with an excuse, and quick.

“Charlie’s expecting me,” you croaked, pulling away from his grasp. You cursed yourself for the ache you felt between your legs, “Something about more trust exercises—” you headed toward the door, but Adam grabbed your arm.

He didn’t seem annoyed that you were brushing off his advances; he knew that it was now just a matter of time.

“Sure, sweetheart,” he teased, his grip red hot against your skin, “But teach me how to do this fun little makeup on myself sometime, hm? I like seeing you all hot and bothered.”

You swung open your door, flashing him the finger as you slammed it behind you. It didn’t matter that you were leaving him in your room unattended; you knew you’d be seeing him there later anyways.

Something told you he was going to keep the makeup on until you returned.

------

thanks for reading! as always, like/reblog/comment if you enjoyed :)

#hazbin hotel #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #alex brightman #fanfiction #fanfic #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fanfiction #adam hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #fanfiction prompt #fan fiction #fandom #vivziepop #vivzieverse #hellaverse #hazbin hotel au #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel season 1 #hazbin hotel season one

[buckysegan]

With all my gratitude, hope and adoration John.

Summary: Everyone deserves a letter from home. John x She. Word Count: 785. A/N: we are def rolling with some historical inaccuracies in regards to letters here but sue me. he deserves it. Part Two.

"mail boys!"

the familiar call sounded through the bunks and bucky didn't even bother to lift his head from where he had been watching crank deal out the cards. he didn't need to look, he never needed to look because there had never been any mail for him. it was a well known fact among the boys, something none of them seemed brave enough to comment on. and john? well he wasn't the type that was going to dwell on such a thing with anyone other than buck.

"buck another one for you, brady, one for me....bucky." the silence that took over was almost immediate as his name was called and for a moment he almost didn't want to look, terrified how he may react if he found a smirk on murph's face. instead he was greeted with absolute sincerity and just as every other face in the bunk did, his pulled into a picture of confusion as he moved to swipe the letter, blue eyes quick to inspect the penmanship.

there it was, as clear as day, his name. lifting it to his nose the way he had seen each man do it sniffed, the rounds of taunts flying from the boys over some secret broad he'd had hidden away from them all. not that the major was listening, already retreating to his bunk with the piece of paper as buck silenced the rest of them, sending them on their way to read their own letters as he watched with quiet concern for his best friend.

he had known john long enough to know he wasn't the pen pal type, but he'd also seen the change, the longing for something that the rest of them had. it wasn't anything he had ever expected of his john, ever the class clown so he was as confused as the rest of the crew.

none were more confused than john though, as he tore, with gentleness he had long since reserved for the touch of a woman, wondering who the hell had wrote him.

"dear major egan..."

Dear Major Egan,

It's odd I find, to be writing a letter to someone when your name and rank is all I know of you. It feels terribly impersonal and honestly I'm not sure how this letter will be received so I am sorry if this feels like an intrusion on your day but the thing is...

Well the truth Major, is that it seems to have been noted that during your time in England you have yet to receive a letter. When I learnt that fact my heart broke a little and not with pity I assure you, but any man fighting for home deserves something to hold onto. You may have that, I hope you do, but just in case I wanted to offer you some form of peace.

I am with you Major Egan, for as long as it takes you to get back home. There is someone out there praying for you every night, someone waiting on your soul to make it back. I know not what your favorite warm meal is, nor what you sound like, I know not what you look like or what makes you laugh, but I would like to learn all of those things should you wish to write back at all.

In return I shall share all those things about myself and anything else should you wish to know any of it. Oh they tell me your name is John, may I call you John next time? I'm going to do it anyway.

With all my gratitude, hope and adoration John

A friend from home x

he wasn't aware the tears had welled as he finished the letter. really bucky had almost forgotten what it was like to cry. but as he scanned the page, again and again and again, he couldn't bring himself to stop the tear that spilled over his cheek, even with the silence he could feel around him again as the boys grew curious once more.

"who was it john?" the gentle voice of his best friend broke through the fourth rerun of the words, the blonde stepping forward so that the answer could stay between them.

blue eyes lifted to meet hazel, with a smile he knew that he hadn't worn in weeks really. one not dissimilar to the smile he had given buck when he had seen him behind that fence. "i - i have a friend from home." someone, somewhere was waiting for him, someone somewhere, had given him what he had forgotten about in this war. hope. she was with him and unless god himself tried to stop him john egan was going to make it home.

#callum turner #masters of the air #mota drabble #john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #mota fanfic

[verysium]

This is such crack brain fart idea 😶

What if some blue lock boys ask the reader what brand her shoes (or something dumb like that) over text and reader sent them a voice message on text and it’s just:

“Hi baby, okay so the brand is—- *insert car accident noises*”

Have you seen those TikToks???

If you do this request, it can be any blue lock boys you want

HELPPP i saw something similar on hinge, and i was hunched over the side of my bed laughing for like 20 minutes. in general, i don't think pranks with any of the bllk boys would go well (unless you wanted to be punted like a football, american-style) but i'm taking a risk today, so here you go:

sae sees through your bullshit in a peloponnesian minute. he has morning practice, three interviews, and a daily nap to get to, so what makes you think he has time for you to fake a car accident? leaves you on read. (brutal, i know.)

rin is mildly concerned, but he's too smart to fall for whatever prank you have planned. he'd probably reply with a sarcastic, dry ass response or a deadpan emoji. refuses to talk to you for the rest of the day because what if you actually got into a car accident? he would lose all sanity. tbh he can't stand it when people make light of serious situations even if it's just a lighthearted joke.

kaiser is petty. he sends you an official funeral invite titled "in loving memory of y/n." he personally designed it in photoshop and even added those tacky glitter rose GIF animations on the front. coincidentally, everyone in your immediate circle also happened to receive the same mass email chain with those invites, so you had to explain to your family, friends, and co-workers that (1) you did not in fact die in a car accident and (2) your funeral is not set for the 15th. (you never played a prank on michael again.)

isagi freaks out. he's calling 911/119, whatever emergency service there is. immediately calls you and nearly breaks down in fear of losing you. when you tell him it was merely a prank, he laughs in relief but internally he's cursing you out with every colorful name in existence.

ness is isagi but even more high-strung. there is no time to call the ambulance in his mind. he's already thundering down the highway looking for the evidence of your car wreck. calls you and screams ballistically into the speaker: "WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU?" so yeah....don't ever play a prank on ness. it's for your sake, not his.

shidou takes you up one notch and sends a picture of himself in the emergency room with a cast on his leg and an IV drip. this spawn of satan took your message literally and decided to copy you and got into a real car accident. so now you have to take time off work and sign the hospital discharge papers because he listed you as his sole emergency contact.

nagi doesn't give a shit. he's already chronically online, and reo's played pranks on him before. probably texts you an "ok" and then tells you he's run out of toilet paper again, so you need to stop by the store to buy some.

reo matches your energy. he replies with: oh yeah, i've heard of that brand. it's the—*insert sound of trucks colliding and screeches across asphalt* you both had a good laugh after.

ok that's all i have for now. this is going to reach a very niche demographic, but you're welcome.

#asks #blue lock #blue lock headcanons #bllk #bllk fluff #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #crack fic #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi x y/n #sae x reader #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x y/n #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x y/n #kaiser x reader #kaiser x you #kaiser x y/n #isagi yoichi #blue lock isagi #bllk isagi #isagi x reader #isagi x you #isagi x y/n

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ Just for a minute ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : Angel came back rather late again like always, or rather early. You decide to join him in his room with anything he needs as comfor tand maybe you end up risking your soul for the one you love.

Pairing : Angel Dust x Reader

Word count : 1549 Words

Genre : Comfort, Soft, Angst

Warnings ➵ Mentioning of Angels workplace and job,

deal with Alastor

a/n : Even if this is a comfort fic, please be aware that it mentions heavy themes, so if you do not feel in the right mind, go back and read smth else please, take care everyone!♡

If you need any help or someone to talk to, here is a site to help search for helplines in your country♡ -> HELPLINES

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

It was early in the morning when Angel came back from working the whole night, body exhausted and sore. No one even awake yet, all of the others getting the rest, he wished to have. Fat nuggets already slumbering on his pillow, as Angel finally laid down ready to sleep his worries away.

Now it was hours later, the hotel echoing with voices and laughter. Alastor was getting on Vaggie and Husk's nerves, Niffty was off like the little maniac she is hunting down roaches, while you and Charlie enjoyed a quiet talk over some tea. Just slowly you noticed, that you hadn't seen Angel at all this day, it was almost noon which was unusual even for him. "Sorry to interrupt you Charls, but did you see Angel at all today?" Taking a look around, now it also doomed on Charlie that Angel was nowhere to be seen. Shaking her head now, you bid your goodbye to Charlie for now, mentioning how you would be going to check on Angel.

The white spider surely had a special place in your heart already now, so you were really worried, especially knowing he had to work last night.

Walking up the stairs and to Angel's room, the pink LED heart with spidery lines around it shone softly on your face, inside the heart were four pictures he had hung up together. One was of his pet pig Fat Nuggets, one was with Charlie hugging him, him with Niffty and Husk, the last one was of you and Angel, your arms laying comfortable around his neck, as you press a soft kiss on his cheek, written under the picture was > My love <.

Angel and you were not yet official, but almost everyone in this hotel could see that your affection and love for each other was beyond that of just friends.

Raising your hand now, you softly knock on the door, it takes a few seconds, but you can hear Angel's muffled voice invite you inside. In the room, your heart was breaking. He layed on his bed all curled together, Fat nuggets in his arm, the blanket pulled up to his chin. The room was chaotic, probably not really having had the chance to clean up yet.

"Oh sweets, it's you.." Angel looked over his shoulder, before sitting up as he noticed it was you standing in her room. His face looked tired, yet he still tried to smile. It hurt you to see him like this and you swore you would do anything you could to get him out of his contract. "Oh baby, you don't have to smile, I know you're not okay, so come here.." Walking over to him, your hand softly glides over his head now as you pull him into a hug. It took him a second to realize what was happening, before he laid his arms around you, letting out an exhausted sigh. "I'm sorry.. Last night was.. rough.." Resting his head against your stomach, as his arms hold your waist softly. You assumed it was, he looked more tired than usual.

"Let's lay down hm? Do you want to tell me about it?" Guiding him, you lay down on his bed, slightly propped up against the headrest, as you pull Angel to rest on your chest. Slowly feeling his body starting to relax against yours. "I'd rather not talk about it right now.. Let's just cuddle a bit.." Angel already closed his eyes, as your hand runs up and down his back, noticing a soft smile on his face from the caressing of your hands. It warms your heart to know that Angel felt this safe and comfortable with you. Pressing a kiss to his head now, making him look up at you with a smile. "With what did I deserve that?" Smiling back at him, your hand resting on his cheek now, your thumb running up and down. "Just wanted to show how much I love you.." Angel's eyes grow wide as your lips softly press a kiss to his forehead next. You two never voiced anything about loving one another, so this was making his heart jump and happy.

"I love you too.." Hiding his face in the crook of your neck now, you could feel some wetness on your shoulder, but you don't mention, that he deserves to be able to cry to his heart's content. You were going to be here through it all, holding Angel in your arms, making sure he knew that he was safe with you.

After napping together, you hand Angel off to Charlie and Vaggie, making sure they will take care of him now and make sure he eats a good warm, and hearty meal, exusing yourself with the excuse that you have something to attend to.

Standing in front of a certain red-haired deer demon's room now. Knocking and entering as you were called inside. "Greetings my dear! What can I help you with?" The cheerful voice of Alastor boomed through the room, as he came over to you, towering over you with his height. "I want to make a deal." Ears immediately turning to you, his smirk grew wider. You knew this was probably the worst idea ever, but you would do anything and everything for Angel. "Splendid! What is your proposal darling? Do tell me!" Alastor was always keen on making deals with people, especially if it would perhaps end in him having another soul. "I want you to help me get Angel out of his contract with Valentino. Tell me what you want in return and you will get it."

His eyes were watching you the whole time, acting as if he was thinking of what he wanted, despite knowing exactly what he would ask for such a big favor. "Well my dear, that is quite a big favor to ask for! So.. Your soul bound to me, for in return I will free your darling little Angel of his chains!" Holding out his hand now, green shining from it, as his smirk got bigger and his eyes turned to dials. Hesitating for a second, but in the end, you shake his hand with determination. Chains manifesting themselves around your neck, the end in his hand now, as he looks at them smirking before they disappear again. "Great to make a deal with you sweetheart! Well then, on to me fulfilling my side of the deal!" Before you knew it, he was gone inside his shadow, you had no idea what he was going to do, but you do trust him.

Your back hits the door now as the realization sinks in, your soul is now in his hands, but if that meant Angel would be free from Valentino, you would do it again in a heartbeat anytime.

While waiting for Alastor, you decided to look for the others for now, finding them all in the foyer to have a little game. Joining them, Husk's eyes immediately fell upon you, noticing something was up, but he didn't dare ask in front of everyone else right now. The game Charlie came up with went on for quite a while, a certain radio demon striding into the foyer and over to you with a smirk. Presented to you now was a gold scroll, you look up to Alastor as he nods - Angels contract. Everyone's eyes were on you, especially Angel's wide ones, as you took the scroll into your hands.

Quickly you were pulled up and after Angel, to his room. "What does this mean? What did you do?!" His eyes were staring at the scroll, as you slowly unrolled it in front of him. On it was his signature, which was all he had to see. Looking him in the eyes, you tear up the paper in front of him, before letting it glide to the floor. "You're free Anthony.." He dropped to his knees upon hearing his name fall from your lips, tears already streaming down his face, he was free? Free from Valentino and that damned studio? His hands desperately reaching out to you, as you sink to your knees in front of him, letting him pull you into a hug. "How? Why..?" He couldn't get his head around how or why you did it, in the deepest part of him he knew, but he needed to hear you say it. "How? Well, let's say I'm on the leash of a certain demon in this hotel now and why? Because I love you, you deserve to be happy and free." Sobbing now echoed in the room, as you just held him through all those emotions he was feeling right now.

"I'm sorry.." Apologizing to you, he looks up, his eyes red and teary. You smile at him, telling him he had nothing to be sorry about and that it was your own will to give your soul for his. While Alastor might be just as bad, if not even worse, than Valentino, as long as you listen to him, you will be just fine. "I love you okay? I never want to see you like this ever again, okay?" Nodding now, he leans down and catches your lips in a soft kiss. The first one of many to follow.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x you #angel dust #angel dust x reader #angel dust x you #angel dust imagine #hazbin imagine #Anthony #anthony x reader #hazbin hotel anthony

[saintescuderia]

pancakes (pt. 4)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: apologies if this isn't 100%. i wrote this in between travelling to japan to attend suzuka. and then i got sick and couldn't even go lol.

P4 - L-sits and pull-ups

Charles Leclerc was known for being a nice guy. 

All the boys knew it. Lando experienced it when he saw how Charles was genuine with service staff whenever they went somewhere. Alex had experienced it in how Charles treated his family, leaving the F1 boys to spend time with Arthur whenever F2 joined the schedule - or when his mother visited the Paddock. Whereas George had just done a quick FaceTime to his mother on Mother’s Day, Charles had sent Pascale Leclerc a luxury basket with a surprise yacht trip and a massage.

“She was having a bad week.” The Monegasque reasoned when the boys found out.

Pierre’s PS5 was a result of Charles’ kindness; sourcing it for his upset friend who had missed the drop. Max's apartment was a result of Charles' kindness; helping him look for places in his home city for the Dutchman looking to buy property in the foreign Monaco. Max owed Charles a lot.

If not for his apartment, then for his F1 seat.

Mercedes were taking too long. Charles knew someone at Red Bull's junior team who could help him score an interview with Helmut Marko. And when you told Charles to stop being so nice to Max after all the drama that happened in F2, he shrugged and said it was the nice thing to do.

So you, a Torro Rosso trainer, helped Max Verstappen with an interview.

Because Charles was kind and he asked you.

And there was nothing you wouldn't do for Charles Leclerc.

Charles’ circles especially were all aware of you before he even joined the grid. It was just that sort of thing. Everyone knows everyone in motorsports. All those boys had seen you hanging around him at the karting races. Were it not for the stark difference in appearance, some might’ve thought you were family. Some did. Because for the longest time, that’s what you and Charles were. Family.  

You were always there for him. You celebrated him when he won. You supported him when he didn’t. You were always the first person he went to when he finished his race. Not his parents, not Jules, not anyone - you. 

He would come to you and you would quickly repeat some key English phrases for the interviewers who would surely come for him. You would pat him on the back and offer a warm smile - no matter the result - and offer some feedback based on what you saw. Performance was your speciality after all.

Then, after everything, you guys would finish with a homemade plate of your pancakes. No matter what. That’s how it went and how it would always go. 

Until 2018.

That had been a shit fucking show of a year. The rookie trio had been super confused when they finally arrived at F1 and saw you dressed as Hospitality. Charles gave no answer to Lando, Alex or George, no explanation to why he barely acknowledged you. It had been Pierre, the one who had been there through it all, who had quietly explained to them what had happened.

For a while, Alex had a hard time talking to Max when he found out. 

Charles hadn’t been surprised that the grid had found out. Nothing ever stayed a secret in this fucking place. NDAs were a joke. The whole agreement between him and Charlotte had been unearthed by some lower ranking Ferrari employee who didn’t know how to keep shut. Then again, Charles had expected it to come out eventually. Half the drivers were dating for PR anyway. 

Ferrari were already on his case about finding a new replacement, a pretty girlfriend for him to post boyfriend material pictures with so it can ‘increase his numbers’ with the female fanbase. Since Drive To Survive had done well to popularise the sport with a whole new demographic of F1 fans, teams were trying to capitalise on this as much as possible. Charles quietly suspected that this was part of the reason why Ferrari approached Carlos.

That and they probably wanted to get rid of Seb as quickly as possible after he found out what happened between to you and raged.

Though, Charles could understand Seb’s stance on it. He himself was conflicted about it, half the time unsure if he had made the right call to listen to Mattia. He had just been hurt and upset and his father had just passed away and the press had been vicious and Charles was just desperate to fulfil his dream of getting the coveted seat. 

Well, your joint dream. 

It had been the dream of the both of you. It was why you worked just as hard as he did. You had taught him English. He had taught you Italian. He networked and raced. You built cars and trained. He had helped you get a job in Torro Rosso. You had helped him get a seat in Alfa Romeo. 

Which, of course, led to him getting a spot in Scuderia Ferrari. 

Except by the time he was putting on the red, you two were no longer speaking to one another. Or, he was no longer speaking to you and you finally accepted he had cut you off. Gone were the days where he was searching the crowds for your face, rushing to you after the race finished.

Five years ago, he stopped eating pancakes. 

He knew you still made them, of course. And not because pancakes had been your everyday breakfast since you both turned fourteen and you started weightlifting and tracking your macros. He knew because he had seen some Alpine reserve driver eating them. 

His name was Oscar Jack Piastri. F2 Champion who also won F3 and the Renault Cup. He had more trophies than anyone else his age. For a moment, Charles thought it was because you back training drivers and were working with him.

Arthur later refuted this when Charles was grilling him that no, you weren't training Oscar Piastri. You actually hadn’t had much interaction with him when you would come down to F2. 

“Does this mean you’re talking to Y/N again?” Arthur had asked, assuming that’s why Charles was asking about you. “Can we be friends with her again?”

“No.” 

“You know maman still doesn’t believe what happened.”

Charles was known for being a nice guy, but he hung up on his brother. Charles really was one of the kinder drivers, but when Alex told them about the tweet, he had scoffed and sneered. When Oscar Piastri himself arrived in orange and held his hand out to greet the nice Monacoan driver, Charles glared and kept his arms crossed. Fuck this. He was not going to shake Oscar Piastri’s fucking hand. 

Even though, deep down, Charles knew there was no need for this. Arthur had confirmed that Oscar really was just a really talented driver - Y/N hadn’t trained him. This was no Max Verstappen situation.

Moreover, it wasn’t like Charles was in Daniel Ricciardo’s position.

If it weren't for the million cameras recording the first meeting of the two Australian drivers, Charles could only imagine Daniel's reaction to the rookie. It was one thing that Oscar essentially took Ricciardo's seat.

The other was that everyone had seen him with you.

Admittedly, Daniel had a reason to not want to shake Oscar’s hand, Charles could reason. Even if he still thought Ricciardo was an espèce de putain merde for what he did to you. 

Still, Charles couldn’t explain it. He wouldn’t explain it. He didn’t need to. The grid had so far understood it perfectly fine; you don’t go near Y/N. When Logan had joined the grid, Alex had the good sense to quietly fill him in on what had happened.

Why the fuck couldn’t Lando do the same?

Which brings us to right now: Bahrain 2023. A control unit failure meant a DNF for his first race of the season. When is this bad luck going to end? Charles retired his car, managing to make it past the McLaren garage on his way to the Ferrari red at the end of the Pit Lane.

It was just as well that his car was slowing to a stall. It meant that he managed to catch a glimpse of the McLaren garage - and the naive Australian rookie stood with a plate in his hands, very clearly eating some pancakes. 

Charles almost drove into a mechanic. 

It was 3am. $uicideboy$ was playing through your headphones. You weren’t wearing any shoes. 

This could only mean one thing: you were doing calisthenics. 

Your arms were shaking slighting as you bent your elbows and tucked your legs in before straightening them. Your grip on the parallette bars was slipping but you engaged your core tighter, hoping to keep balanced as you straightened out your legs and held the L-sit position. 

Oscar had DNF’ed on lap 13. The media was already going wild with questions about his decision to ditch Alpine for McLaren and whether or not this was just karma. McLaren looked horrible. Even his teammate had finished 17th. No matter your feelings on the young Brit, even you had to admit Lando Norris was a decent driver. 

During the course of pre-season preparations, wind had carried the gossip that Zak Brown had revealed the car to the team earlier this year with a sub-par level of enthusiasm. Whilst it wasn’t uncommon for cars to arrive at Sakhir with plans for future upgrades… you hadn’t thought it would be this bad. For McLaren. At this rate, the MCL60 was looking like a back of the field car. 

What’s more the team was struggling. One only needed to look at their qualifying session to see how bad it had been. Engineers giving mixed reports. Oscar’s radio not working and getting out in Q1. Lando getting mixed tyres and getting out in Q2. A whole ass clusterfuck, in your opinion.

And Daniel had been there, smiling smug whenever the camera decided to pan to the Red Bull garage.

The song changed in your headphones. Your arm strained. You dropped, fell forward. Cue the stream of expletives that would’ve made even Guenther blush.

You knew that going to the gym after the race had finished up - a night race that - was going to mess up your sleep schedule. However, you were too wired after everything to go to sleep. You needed the dopamine rush. There was too much going on for you to process any other way.

Because, firstly, you needed to get rid of the image of Daniel’s smug smirk that was currently etched into your brain.

You had skipped your post-dinner protein shake and had your coffees black today. You had started your session with a series of HIIT sprints on the treadmill before you did as many pull ups as your body would allow. It had been quite some time since you had done calisthenics training so religiously but you were already internally creating a new program for yourself. 

That is, you were already mentally preparing for the cut you had decided to undertake the moment Daniel Ricciardo had walked into the gym after finding out he'd lost his seat. And blame you for it.

You pushed yourself up off the ground and came to your parallette bars again. You grabbed each one and then lifted yourself up again. You closed your eyes and willed your brain to focus purely on the lactic acid running through your body. 

Because, secondly, you were stressing more than you should about Charles’ DNF.

You had watched the testing sessions carefully. You always did. Always keeping an eye out on the red car with the black T cam. Charles hadn’t done too bad but, obviously, it was hard to give a genuine judge. Everyone always sandbagged.

For example, Red Bull didn’t look as strong in testing, but then came out on race day and finished as they did. You could be happy for Max, especially since Jos was in attendance and knew just what that meant… but you also knew how it would look for Ferrari that Carlos had finished fourth and Charles hadn’t even finished the race. 

The car did look strong through. That was evident by how Ferrari had done in qualifying. Charles had out qualified Carlos, a narrow Ferrari 3-4 behind a Red Bull 1-2. However, your former childhood best friend had a bad luck streak unlike anything you had ever witnessed. 

And even though the word ‘former’ was in the equation, you never liked seeing Charles like this. Even if he was likely the reason no one in the grid spoke to you anymore.

Well, until now.

Because, thirdly, Oscar Piastri threw a spanner in the works.

You knew how it was going to look. You knew. It was one thing for you to interact this closely with a driver. It was another thing entirely for you to unofficially train him. However, as Zak Brown had found out, there was no way you could be allowed to join McLaren as a performance trainer for Oscar.

When the young driver had filled you in about his meetings with Zak Brown and his particular stipulation, you called him an idiot and told him to sign. When Oscar filled you in about his new plan to be able to work alongside you through all the loopholes his father's lawyer found, you called him an idiot and told him it wasn't worth it.

"I beg to differ. If you don't want to, that's fine. But not because of whatever drama happened."

He knew the drama. It was impossible that a team principle had looked into having you as his driver 's trainer and not found out what had happened. It was also impossible that Oscar Piastri, former Prema driver - as in, former Arthur Leclerc teammate - and current teammate to loose tongue Lando, didn't know about you and Charles.

You had honestly just waited for the moment he would bring it up. He never did.

Because Oscar, you were coming to learn, was far more level-headed and mature than most the drivers on this grid. And he was so young. You didn't want to see anyone fuck that up. You really, really didn't.

Still, you said no.

Then a week later you saw that fucking tractor make him DNF.

You leaned forward and brought yourself down into a handstand, counting to ten before bending your elbows and lowering yourself slowly. You lifted yourself up and then tucked your legs once more. Your whole body was shaking more and more know but and you fought to breathe through it. You finally lowered yourself and let out a deep huff. Whilst you weren't pleased with how out of practice you were, you were a little pleased that you finally managed to lower yourself - instead of falling down.

You looked ahead at the mirrors and then saw a familiar face of the driver walking into the gym. Oscar dropped his gym bag near yours and went straight to the treadmill to warm up. You kept your eyes on him as you held yourself up on the parallettes and watched the young driver fiddle with his phone and earphones before starting a light jog.

You took a moment before you pulled yourself up and went over to him. Oscar met your eyes as he continued to jog. He pulled down earphone but you said nothing as you pressed the button to increase the speed. Oscar raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"45 seconds on. 15 seconds off. 20 repetitions." You said. Oscar nodded and put his earphone back in. You shook your head. He frowned and pulled them down.

"You don't drive with music so don't play anything." You said. "Feeling something in your ear needs to become second nature."

He nodded and you went to his phone and pressed pause. Then you made a voice when you noticed that Ed Sheeran was playing.

"Don't judge me." Oscar said.

"I am. You're working out to fucking Ed Sheeran." You responded with a scrunched nose. Oscar shook his head, smiling slightly, but said nothing else. In the silence, you observed his form and counted his breaths. You noticed slight irregularity with his inhale and exhales and immediately pulled him up on it.

And so you spent the rest of the night training Oscar Piastri.

By the time you both finished, and he gave you a tired and sweaty high five, the clock read five thirteen in the morning.

< prev ch [3] | next ch [5] >

taglist:

@eugene-emt-roe @spookystitchery @vicurious28 @taytaylala12 @c-losur3

@hiireadstuff @samantha-chicago @fionaschicken @casperlikej @bookstore-of-dreams

@itsjustkhaos @sam-is-lost @laneyspaulding19

#saintescuderia #f1 fandom #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #charles leclerc #max verstappen #lewis hamilton #japanese gp 2024 #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #oscar piastri #lando norris #daniel ricciardo #liam lawson #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #carlos sainz fic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo x reader