#(v few people Get all of this but like. michael is one of them. he's in lucifer's head enough that it would be weirder for him not to get i

[quietwingsinthesky]

🌹:O

:3c

Lucifer doesn't care how the labcoats say it works; he knows there's no such thing as a clean break from a drift the minute the plug is pulled. Instead, Michael goes from a second consciousness beside his own to being dragged out of Lucifer the further Lucifer gets from him, both of them gripping tight to the connection until it slips, until it snaps, with a violent recoil that knocks Lucifer's brain out of alignment and reminds his legs that they don't work. His next step falls too fast, too heavily, and refuses to take his weight. It's only Michael, now only a voice outside of Lucifer's head yelling his name, catching him from behind that allows Lucifer to collapse to the floor with his dignity intact.

#is this more than one sentence? yes. yes it is. because tumblr deleted this post once and pissed me off. #i had so many tags about lucifer already and boom. gone. #anyway. tfw you see your boyfriend get severely injured during a battle and this makes you panic so bad you manage to make it a few meters #which is a lot for a guy who can't actually walk. #lucifer's got a whole Situation. turns out plugging a guy's brain up to a giant robot is not without its bugs. #especially when said guy was one of the first to be stuck inside the giant robot with his brother. and testing was a lower priority due to #everyone wanting a faster solution to the Giant Fucking Monsters. so lucifer's brain got overloaded and can't send signals to his legs #anymore to move right unless he's hooked up to a mech. technically when this first happened the doctor told him 'well if you stop doing mec #shit you can walk again.' but 1) he's not doing that. and 2) that was years ago. just because that recommendation is still on a file #somewhere doesn't mean it would actually work for him. or even that it would have back then. it's still the official answer for 'fixing' hi #because that's better optics than the truth. which is that he can't walk.* #(technically. technically. if he was left disconnected from the mech for a week he could walk. it would also be exhausting. and painful. #and slow. this is not something lucifer considers to be helpful information when he moves faster and with more ease in his chair. #this is something other people like to point out about him that makes him want to start hitting them. and it's not even really true anymore #the 'a week disconnected' thing. again. was a long time ago. it would take over a month for him to stand nowadays.) #(v few people Get all of this but like. michael is one of them. he's in lucifer's head enough that it would be weirder for him not to get i #add to that him being one of the few people who has seen lucifer walk nowadays and focused more on 'hey he looks like he hates that' #than praising it. and he gets it. and is also the requisite amount of annoyed when lucifer *runs off* before michael can help him into his #chair!! not the first time this has happened and will not be the last. michael's used to catching him.) #ask #oh my god that was so much rambling. this isnt even the point of the fic btw. this is just. backstory. worldbuilding.

[venmondiese]

This party is boring... wanna leave?

✧ masterlist ✧ taglist ✧

Summary: The party you are in is boring, so you ask a cute nerd guy to leave with you... that is, until you find out this is his birthday party.  Maybe a gift and a happy birthday will fix his sad evening.

✧Pairing: Michael Gavey x Fem!Reader

✧Warnings: MDNI 18+, p in v, virginity loss, oral (m receiving), overall sweet, michael being a total nerd virgin.

✧Word Count: 7.8k

✧AO3 link: here

note: so i saw this tweet in my 2020 ig histories and i said... michael gavey coded, and here we are. Here is the original tweet (wendy and joy from red velvet haha) and AGAIN this is infinite i swear i am allergic to write things under 5k

Michael couldn’t be more excited. He looks proudly at the poster indicating the date and place of his birthday. 

Nothing too glamorous, he rented one of the halls for hire in Oxford, the same one that they used for the Christmas party that (to no one’s surprise) he wasn’t invited. But he intended to do something fun about it, with the pool table and maybe some game algebraic beer pong. Who knows? It was his birthday, so he did the rules.

And he had a few friends he could invite, of course, renting a whole hall seems…. exaggerated, but truly, he couldn’t get a pool table in his room. He paid for this only for the pool table. Besides, he liked his Norman no mates friends. Friends if you could call them that; they were as friend to him as Oliver Quick once was. Just that this once… he won’t get too attached.

Well, ‘friends’ would actually be mates from the chess club, so they weren’t exactly popular these days. They barely had a girl in the group, so they weren’t great with girls either. Besides, the only other girl that he knew had agoraphobia so… it wasn’t happening. 

His mum made some little biscuits and cupcakes for his day, since she came to have a little celebration just for him and her in a near-by cafe at college. He could skip a few classes to be with his mum on his birthday, after all. 

The night started interestingly. The space was obviously much larger than what he thought it could be, so they hung around the couch and the pool table. He felt the victory as he won two chess matches and a pool game. Maybe it was birthday luck, since everything was coming up as great.

As they talked about which opening was their favourite, Michael heard a little knock. Once he approached the crystal door, he saw Oliver with Felix by his side, with some liquor bottles. 

Michael frowned a bit, as he was pretty sure he rented the room, he did it with a lot of anticipation and made sure no one else did before him. And it was crystal clear that he didn’t invite Oliver. Sure, in their friendship, he once or twice talked about doing something about his birthday, but he never invited Oliver. 

“Hey Mikey” Oliver says, with an shit eating grin, and Michael has to roll his eyes, by how smug and prideful he looked. An absolute jerk, if you asked him. Oliver didn’t even wear his glasses anymore, and was all parties and relevancy thanks to Felix. “Come on”

Before Michael could stop them, Oliver passes by his side, as Felix follows him patting Michael’s shoulder with a smirk (he could swear it was in a patronising way) and people follow from behind as Oliver looks in the room for the music speaker of the rented room.

Michael walked as the crowd quickly dispersed, and he grabbed the few gifts he received, and looked at his distressed mates. 

“Oliver you cannot be here, I rented the room” Michael screams as the room noise is quick to appear, so different from the silence of their small reunion. 

“I saw your pamphlet” Oliver says nonchalantly as he successfully manages to get the aux cable. “Birthday, eh?” He says mockingly

“I rented it! You have to get out” He says almost screaming, as the same way he did once they met, when he asked Oliver to say a sum for him to say.

“If you can get all of us out, mate… sure” Oliver shrugs, clearly not minding.

Michael looks defeated. Even if he stands there, angry, with the few gift bags on his hands, he feels embarrassed. He wanted to do one nice thing for himself, just once. It wasn’t as cheap to rent a hall for his birthday (he couldn’t do it anywhere else, truly, but he thinks that maybe the pub would have been nice even if few of his mates didn’t drink beer)

The room fills very quickly, sitting on the couches and talking as they get vases with something to drink, or beer cans.

“Michael” two of his friends approach him, and he looks at them “We could rescue the biscuits and the cake” They say proudly as they have it in his hands. 

He couldn’t fake to look at least smug, so he nods a bit numbly. “Yeah, sure.” He says a bit disoriented, looking around “The rest left?”

“This was not a party, we assumed…” 

“Not really our thing. Though Tim and Steve stayed to see if they could get any girls” 

Michael hums, and he doesn’t know what to exactly think, since he didn’t expect this. He was organised, he liked things to be as he already planned. It made him secure, and it was only logical. But this interruption made him anxious.

“I gotta save the pool balls” He says to his friends “They are going to fine me if I lose one of them” 

“What… we do with this?” His friend asks about the food.

“Uhm… take the biscuits with you…” Michael says. “And the cake… leave it on the library next to the pool table, and hide it… please” 

As he collects the pool balls, and walks upstairs to return them, he is very downhearted. He remembers the time that he invited his friends from school and only his cousins and his neighbour appeared to his party; very embarrassing and he hated celebrating his birthday with a party ever since. It was mostly his mum and granny, with his dog and cat. Nothing else, nothing too fancy.

He comes back for the cake as he tries to explain the situation to the people that manage the rented halls, there was not much for them to do, and he is suspicious that maybe Oliver or Felix paid them to keep the room. At least they promised not to charge if anything broke, and he was happy with that.

So, money wasted, party ruined and they couldn’t even sing to him happy birthday. 

He walks from between the crowd as he steals a beer. Fuck it, it wasn’t eve stealing since they ruined his party. He takes a break, since he feels really discouraged. He knows his mates are not really social butterflies, but more leaning to being socially anxious. He might need to apologise, and even face the idea that they might be annoyed at him, and maybe they’ll kick him out from the chess team.

He drinks his beer, looking at how Oliver and Felix hyped the whole thing out, people sitting on the pool table… He hopes his cake is intact. He looks at his beer can as he move it a little to stir the liquid (he totally doesn’t want to look miserable AND like an imbecile)

“Hey” A voice calls him as he drinks from his beer. He has to look up to the prettiest girl that has ever approached him, probably. You wear a pink pleated mini skirt, with a short baby pink hoodie that he could see your bright pink bra underneath. God, it was a lot of pink in one person. 

You look at him as he blinks a bit, and you look at him with an alluring smile as if waiting for him to say something, and once he doesn’t, you continue.

“This party is kinda boring” you start saying, with a soft smile and a bright in your eyes as you look at him, doing all your best efforts to flirt with him “Do you wanna leave together?”

Michael blinks a bit as he looks at you, trying to process the words in his head but he fails. “Uh… this is my birthday party” he admits embarrassed and awkwardly, as he looks away to not face the shame, and he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Oh” you say looking at him, your smile fading a bit, a bit worried about your comment. “Oh, I’m sorry” you say, grabbing his forearm. “Didn’t mean to be rude”

“No problem” he says, looking at how your hand rests on his forearm, almost caressing it slowly. 

“I suppose you didn’t invite all these people, did you? It was kind of a last minute call” you say looking at him, actually interested in him. “You seem pretty out of place for that”

“No… It was for me and my mates” 

“Ohh…” You say looking around, and you feel a bit of pity, which he doesn’t want nor needs. “Well, I would have brought a gift.” You say, trying to cheer him up “What is your name?”

Did they send you to make fun of him? Must be.

“Michael Gavey” He says, and he refuses to look at you, not to give you or them the satisfaction.

“Michael” you repeat, and you tell him your name too. “You are cute” you add.

He blushes and looks at you as if you just insulted him, his eyes open and he frowns a bit. He turns his head away in shame.

“Thank you” he murmurs, not sure of what to think. 

“So… your birthday is today.” You say tapping your thighs a bit. “How… randomly, I didn’t know”

“I like my birthday” He murmurs, drinking his beer hesitantly “Tis’ the day of Pi” 

“Day of Pie?” You ask frowning, your arms in your back as you lean in the wall. 

“Of Pi” he repeats “Like the pi from maths”

“Ohh, the circle thing” You say nodding and smiling, as you now understand. “Why is it the day of pi..? Ohh, it is because today it’s fourteen of March”

“Yeah” He says, as he looks at his shoes a bit embarrassed. He usually would think you were stupid, who the fuck confuses Pi with Pie? But you were the only one caring enough. 

“You seem to like maths, like your.. Your shirt” you say pointing it out at his maths pun, and he becomes aware that he has been, in fact, wearing that shirt all the time. 

Fuck, did he really fought with Oliver and with the rental people with a Math pun shirt? No wonder no one took him seriously.

“Ah, yeah…” He says awkwardly. You were very much engaging in the conversation, scooping on his interests little by little. 

“Do you know that I am flirting with you, right?” You say looking at him in the eyes and he looks from his shoes to your face, a bit surprised and panicked.

“Ehm… me? What for?”

“Because you are cute, like I said” you repeat “And it is your birthday”

“You don’t have to pity me because of that…”

“I am not pitying you. It is not why I like you. Come on, do you think I am pretty at least?” You ask as you change your body weight from one foot to the other while looking at him with the most alluring smile he has ever seen. 

God, the question sounds stupid, because you are not only pretty, but you are the hottest girl ever, looking at him as he freezes in place. Your eyes could trap him, as enchanting as they were, and your diminutive clothing was driving him insane. 

“Eh… yes” he murmurs. “Very pretty…”

He seems perplexed about the straightforwardness of this whole thing, and he is very confused. Where has this night taken him?

“I meant what I said. The party… is meh. You and I could leave together, if you want” 

He blinks, as his tongue wets his lips as he suddenly feels frozen in place. His eyes look at your expression as if you were joking, and he is unsure what to think.

“Uh… well, I have to get my cake, really, m-my mates saved it on the back of the library in hopes nobody would find it..:” He starts saying, not really sure why he is telling you this.

“Okay, we’ll search it” you say without any problem about it. “I could sing happy birthday to you and you can blow the candles”

That’s how you are now following him like a puppy, as he takes out the cake from behind some decorations that weren't hiding the cake very well, but it is mostly intact. 

You two walk together, to leave and Michael thinks that never felt so ashamed. He felt like doing the shame walk, as he passed through the people with a fucking birthday cake and a pretty girl following him.

“Let’s go to your dorm!” You tell him with a happy smile, your hand on his shoulder as you lean closer to tell him that as you both walk together.

He is confused how you’ll give him a gift if they weren’t in your room, but he accepts, as his dorm isn’t actually so far away from the rented halls, so he guides you upstairs, and upstairs, at the point where he hears you whine because of your heels.

You look a bit amazed as he enters his dorm, leaving the cake on his desk and moving to turn on the bedside lamp. He looks around, and you are taking off your heels and being just in socks. He blinks as he looks at you. Doing that means she’s comfortable here, he thinks. 

“Ah, eh…. Have a seat in the…” You sit on the edge of his bed, next to his pillows and he blinks. He wanted to say ‘in the desk chair’ but he guessed it was too late.

“Your bed is comfortable” You say smiling as you pat your right side for him to sit by your side. “Come, sit!”

Michael blinks. He dries his sweat palm by rubbing his hands on his thighs a bit awkwardly, as he takes a seat on the edge of his bed by your side. Your legs were tucked under your body, already comfortable, while he is rigid and tense, all awkwardness in comparison.

“And your mates are still at the party?” You ask looking at him, batting your eyelashes at him with a sweet smile as you lean your body weight to your hand, right beside him.

“Uhm… eh, well, they told me they left, so it was a bit rushed… I don’t know, I could call them if you.. Want to sing to me happy birthday and that…” he says a bit hesitant, and he is a bit unsure of his words when you chuckle a bit, if you knew a secret “B-Because we couldn’t… I mean we didn’t have the time for that, and my mum bought that cake because it is my favourite..:” he rambles as his cheeks are pink with embarrassment.

You were divine. In more than one way, you were the prettiest girl that he had ever talked to. And you were also the first girl in his dorm. And this close to him. And the first one to be interested in him. 

“Ah, of course… I bet it is tasty, it is sweet that your mum bought it for your party” You say smiling, as you look at him “Well, I don’t think we should call them here”

“Uh… Why not? We aren’t many, we are just seven, and with you we would be a pair number, so we could play a chess match since we are a pair. If you don’t know I could teach you” He offers. God, why did he accept this? Because you were pretty and all smiles with him, but he didn’t know what women like you liked…

“It’s not that, Mikey” you say softly, looking at him with an alluring smile, leaning slightly closer to him, which is dangerous, because it is the moment he has to decide if to look at your face or your tits. “It is because I wanna give you a gift”

Michael blinks. “Oh.”

“Yeah… It would be awkward if they were here”

His mind is numb, and he looks at you a bit confused “... Because they already gave me a gift?”

You have to suppress a laugh, as you shake your head and look down a bit. He takes the opportunity to look at your tits briefly.

“No…” You say again, with that damn tone that he can’t decipher. “You are not really good at hints, are you?”

He stays silent, looking at you as he tries to get it. “Eh… no, but I am really good at maths…”

You chuckle a bit, as you look at his face with a look he (again) cannot decipher. 

“Of course you are” you say sitting slightly closer, and he stays still as he looks at you and your tits coming closer to him “Your birthday it is in the day of Pi” you made sure to say the last word correctly, emphasising on it, and he nods a bit. 

“Yeah…” he murmurs looking at you as he licks his lips, and his glasses slide ever so slightly on his nose as he has to look down at your face

“I wanna give you a gift…” you repeat, and it is now that he feels your hand slide to his thigh and closer to his crotch. And his breath freezes on his throat as he feels your hand move slowly to rub his dick from above his clothes, and the traitor practically gets hard instantly at something that isn't his own hand. 

Michael practically freezes at your touch, as your hand slowly rubs his jeans where his erection was forming. Your eyes look at him as you smile, god, you were so provocative it made his brain go off. He couldn't take his eyes out of your face as he opened his mouth to pant a bit, a bit unsure of if to stop this or make it keep going.  It is not like he doesn’t want to do… this, but a little part of him still thinks you are just mocking him and probably there were popular jerks waiting outside to make fun of him for falling for someone so out of his league. 

But you were so pretty, lookin at him with tender eyes. As he seems so hesitant about it all. It wasn’t like he didn’t want this, but he just… wasn’t sure what to do, because this was confusing all his thoughts. How could he even impress you? 

It is you who leans to capture his lips. On yours with a kiss, slow and calm, since he was so inexperienced. It was his first kiss, as a girl rubs his cock. He surely was dreaming. 

“Do you want it?”

He blinks confused, his lips briefly open and all flustered as your hands keep on hardening his cock. “Um… yes” He swallows hard as his eyes are closed due to how good (and strange) it feels. To have a girl doing this with him.

“You’ve done this before?” You ask looking at his eyes, and his glasses are sliding on his nose and he doesn’ even notice, and your hand pat his cock which makes him whimper a bit. 

“Eh… yes, but with myself. I mean, b-by myself, like with my hand, that is…”

You giggle at his naiveness, and you add “I meant if you have ever had sex”

Michael looks at you surprised, and he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose again. You were so direct, and this was unlike anything that had happened in his life. You confused him, with your plays and teases, he was more simple, and more straightforward. “No…” He whispers in reply, breathing a little heavily now as you squeeze him through his pants. 

Your smile is confusing, since he doesn’t know what it means. Well, he doesn’t get the clue to. Most things you do anyways. “It is your birthday” you repeat “My treat, I’ll make you feel so good, Mikey”

He looks down at his pants as you unbuckle his belt. There was something about you, so seductive and sensual as you did all torturously slow. You weren’t rushed, and even did it for his sake, as he looked so frozen by it all. 

You turn your head to look up to him as you also zip down his pants. He tried to think about anything else, because he felt on fire.

“Can you take these off?” You ask him kindly, and he looks. Briefly confused. “I really wanna suck you off”

Oh god. He almost cums on his pants. Oh god.  He repeats on his mind as he moves a bit to take off his pants, at least to his knees. Oh god, oh god. His mind tried to remain sane, he tried to think about some maths, the comfort of simple logic tries to centre himself. 

You look pleasantly surprised by his size, and you hummed in delight and he saw how you bite your lower lip. His cocks spring free, fully hard and the precum leaking out from the tip. He looked nervously at you, as his cock practically begged your attention and affections, and he could feel a turmoil form on his stomach as he pleaded with his eyes for you to do something about it. 

“So big…” you praise him with a smirk, and he looks away in shame as he blushes. It was a good thing, he thinks, but he cannot help but feel hesitant.

You gently grab the base as your left hand rests on his left thigh, helping you as you lean down to capture the tip on your mouth, and he leans slightly back as if trying to squirm away. He looks at you, overwhelmed at the warm and moist sensation around his cock, ever so slightly, but so intense at the same time. He pants as if he just ran a marathon, looking down at you as his balls tighten and feel so ready to cum. But he forces himself not to.

“Oh… A-Ah, fuck…” he says as you take his dick out of your mouth to lick it, from his balls to his tip. God, no one really prepares you to know how easy it is to cum when a girl sucks you off.

He tries to think of equations, some diagrams or anything, anything to not cum so fast. You have his cock again in your mouth, sucking on his tip and your tongue moves to tease him as well. He was going insane.

He looks at you, with your bright eyes full of delight and mischief looking up back at him, as his cock was deeper and deeper on your throat, making its way through your warm mouth. 

And you didn’t seem to mind how the drool was spilling out from your mouth, wettening your chin and how you gagged slightly the more deep you swallowed him. He was amazed, truly, looking down at you as you sucked him off. 

It was different from how he imagined. He thought that at his first time, he would lead the way, he would be confident (because he knew about porn and how these things worked) and he would be dominant enough. Yet now, he feels unsure, trembling as his balls shaked in need to release, because you were amazing and so hot. 

Maybe he didn’t know a thing about this all. He thinks, as his shoulders tense from how good the head of his cock feels in your warm throat. It sends shivers on his spine and he has to whimper pathetically. 

“You are so perfect…, I swear” He mumbles without breath, whimpering pathetically. You would have giggled, because he didn’t need to swear, but he was cute to do so.

You move your hand to take the hair out of his face, and you grab his right hand, and he doesnt get at first what you mean, until you let his hand on your hair, it is when he understands that you want him to guide you and move his hips. 

His own hips hesitate at the beginning , strange at how he is supposed to move without looking ridiculous or being uncomfortable. Instead, he takes your hair carefully, with both hands as he leaves a deep breath out. 

His little whimpers are amazing, and so hot, you love to hear it. It was almost quiet, very low, but it was a delight to hear how he whimpers as his cock twitches in your mouth.

He moves your hair up and down on his body, fucking your face slowly. He didn’t want to be reckless, and when you needed to, he allowed you to have air from time to time. 

His balls were on fire, and his dick was so hard and it felt so good as you deepthroated him that he was at the verge of cumming. 

“I’m… oh, I'm going to cum, m’sorry…” he whimpers, moving your head onto his cock more harshly, but still careful not to make a mess and make you choke on his cock. He would feel bad if he hurt you like that, especially when you do him a favour.

His hips hesitate as he starts cumming, and he releases your head because he guesses it could be overwhelming. But you do not back away, rather swallow all of his spending in your mouth, savouring it delighted as you looked up to him, and he opened his mouth in awe. 

You were his wettest dream come true.

What are the chances, the possibility that a pretty girl like you, just looked at him and decided to do this? To give him the best head ever? To help him lose his virginity, thinking he is worth the chance when you are out of his league? 

He is a man of mathematics and logic. And even being good at probability, he knew the chances were almost zero. Almost.

And you looked so brightly at him as you cleaned some of his cum dripping down from your chin and licking it, not to waste a bit. 

“It… it was good?”

“Yeah” you say without a breath, as you smile. “I love your dick, it is so… amazing” He can almost cum again when he sees you lick your lips.

“Oh.” He says a bit flustered, his mind almost numb from his orgasm. “T-Thank you…” 

It is your smile who makes him smile a bit, awkwardly and with his cheeks red. He cannot believe this is luck. He is dumb struck, looking at your lovely face with still red cheeks and a wide smile. And you just sucked him off.

He is guilty, and he looks down at your tits for a brief moment, but looks quickly at your face, as if ashamed of doing that. But you still have that alluring smile, looking at him. He still doesn’t get what it means, but he goes along with the flow. 

“You wanna see my tits?” You ask with a sweet tone, as if it was the normalest question ever. You have seen his eyes drop to your breasts and then to your face, it was cute.

Oh my god. He will likely cum immediately at the sight. He knows it, and his cheeks are red as he thinks of your question.

“Yeah, please…” He asks without breath, as he accommodates in bed trying for his cock not to give him away. 

“I would have worn something way cuter if I knew this was going to happen” You explain taking out your jacket, and to his no-surprise, you didn’t wear a shirt underneath, just the bright pink bra that poked out of your jacket. 

“You look beautiful” he murmurs looking at your still clothed breasts, and he then looks up to your face. “You… If this is your less fancy outfit, then god damn me” 

You giggle at his words, he surely was odd from all the guys you knew. Perhaps his lack of experience, perhaps his nerdy personality. You don’t know, but you find yourself wanting to do all filthy and kinky things with this nerdy man.

You take off your bra, with quickness, as he looks at you completely mesmerised by your nakedness in front of him. He blinks at your perky nipples completely to his sight, and his mind just goes off. He is pretty sure that if you asked him what 1 plus 1 was, he’d say a pair of fine tits.

“You can touch me, Mikey” you say with a teasing tone, that makes him look at your expression for a brief moment. “Like you can grope my tits and all…”

The boldness of her offer makes him salivate, he is sure, and the desire within him is just intense and he knows he has to. His left hand reaches out cautiously and grasps your right breast. 

Your soft sigh is enough for him to do it slightly more confidently, but still not too harsh. He doesn’t actually know how hard it hurts if someone gropes too aggressively, and so he prefers to be gentle with you, because you deserve all of it. 

“Here. Give me your other hand” You say, and before you can extend your hand to grab his, his right hand goes to your other breasts, as if he was waiting for it.

Your breath hitches before you giggle a bit, as he doesn’t understand you. His face is red, from embarrassment, from touching a girl, a very much real girl that desires him too, and from awkwardness in him.

“I meant, give me your hand” You say taking his right hand from your breast and he doesn’t wanna let go, but he does anyway. “I wanna… Mm. I wanna to show you something”

Again with coded words, he was unaware of its meaning. But he waited for you to tell him, as you looked at him with a smile as you waited for him to say it.

“Oh, uh…” Michael mutters as his brain finally took notice it was his turn to say something. “Eh… okay? Show me…” he says unsure what to say.

You guide his left hand down, under your skirt. He just noticed that you had not taken off your skirt yet, as he was still clothed and with his pants down. But he didn’t mind it so much as you pressed his hand against your clothed pussy. 

“You.. Y-You are really wet” he says slightly amazed, and you nod with a smile as he just leaves his hand there, a bit amazed as his fingers do the slightest move to spread the wetness on his fingers. You hum in delight as you feel how bold he might be becoming. 

“Yeah, I am” you nod to him with a smile, and he looks at you flustered, as he leaves an awkward chuckle. “And your cock is hard again”

He looked down at his dick, and in fact, he was getting hard again. He looked back at you, and he smiled a bit embarrassed. You were also smiling, and that was the only clue he got to know that you were having the time of your life.

“It’s because you are so hot…” he says in a weak attempt to justify himself. “and so pretty”

You laugh, as you kneel slightly to take off your skirt and kick it somewhere in his bedroom. You were only wearing your panties now, and he felt like a salivating dog wagging his tail at the sight. God he was pathetic.

He looked at you, and before he could try to do anything, you say.

“It will be better if you sit properly in the bed, not the edge. So you can lean back in the pillows”

He has no idea why he should lean back in the pillows, but again, he is not the one doing demands in this. In his eyes, you are doing him a favour, this was his wettest dream, and you surely got nothing from it.

He takes off his pants and he crawls to sit in the bed, his back against the pillows (he used at least three, he found it more comfortable) and so he watched at you with a smile, as you kneel up again, now to take off your panties.

“I swear that if i knew, I would have worn a prettier pair of underwear” you start teasingly, as you move your hands to the sides of your panties to take them off.

Oh god, he thinks once again, as the image of a naked woman is enough to send him into numbness again. He was just gaining confidence to take some part in this, but he was just so inexperienced, he had to decide on either cum desperately or trying to last longer, and he didn’t know that the last took all of his brain energy.

“Here” You say, grabbing his hand and leaving your panties in his hand. He looks at you, and you add “Another gift. You can keep it” 

He looks at you, slightly amazed by it. He holds your panties in his hand, and he can feel the wetness of it, knowing that you were (and are) so wet right now drives him insane. He looks at you and he blinks a bit surprised, and honestly, much more aroused. 

“Thank you..” he says as he appreciates this odd gift. He has no idea what use it may have apart from the sentimental one, but maybe it is like his own trophy? 

You get comfortable, still kneeling on the bed, you crawl to be atop of his lap. Each knee on the side of his thighs, and he has to look up to see you. Maybe his favourite part about this is how your tits are in front of his face. He loves it.

“Your hand” She asks, and when she extends her hand he is clever enough not to make the same mistake twice. He passes her his hand, and she guides it to her pussy once again.

Now he knows. Why men went to war for women. Why Troy was destroyed, for stealing one woman. Why men went insane for the touch of a woman. He gets it now. 

Your pussy drips wet as he touches it; bare and warm. He is surprised, in all honesty, as his fingers are rigidly moving forward and back. It is not rough; but it is rigid enough to let know his inexperience in the matter.

“I wanna make you feel good” He says looking at you, almost begging for you to teach him how. He wants to know the secrets that could have you squirm and moan crazily over him, as he was over you. 

“This is about you” You say, your hands moving to the edge of his shirt, to take it off from him. He helps you in it, and he leaves a breath as now both of you were naked in front of each other.

Your soft hand caresses his chest. He is no muscular guy; yet you caress him so tenderly that he has to look at you with that puppy look. He really wants to make you feel good.

“Tell me what to do.” He asks again, he looks pathetically needy to you; eager to make you cum on his fingers, and eager to learn how to please you.  His fingers linger hesitantly around your pussy, and he does his best guiding himself from little experience and instinct. 

You smirk as you bite your lower lip as you let a little whimper out. He was cute and hot, more than most guys you knew from before. Maybe getting with the nerd was a fantastic idea.

“I want you to fuck me” You say instead, smiling at him “I want your cock, not your fingers- for now. Besides, this is about you. You are the birthday boy”

As your hips lower on his lap, he takes off his fingers and looks at you sitting above his cock. You grind slightly as he opens his mouth agape slightly, the mere thought of fucking you has him all excited, and aroused.

“I do wanna.. Do that” Michael says with a longing smile, as you nod to him. The feeling of your pussy rubbing against his own dick. He can’t take it anymore, he longs for you too much. 

He is clumsy as he moves his hips, the head of his cock passing eagerly through your folds in search of your entrance, and he looks up at you as you moan at the feeling. He got something right. 

His puppy eyes catch your attention as his tip presses on your centre, and you look down at him a bit breathlessly. “You can’t cum so fast, Mikey. I want you to enjoy it” He nods when you tell him that, and he leaves a shaky breath at the feeling. 

“I… I’ll try…” He says looking at you, trying his best to hold back. But your body is too tempting for him. He is going to pass out, surely.

You move to search for something in your clothes, and you take a condom from somewhere. He isn’t too sure. He is looking at the ceiling waiting for you as he thinks on some hard equation from class, and he tries for the burning turmoil on his belly, full of lust and desire to calm down even a bit. He wants to have you moaning on his cock so hard, he will need strength.

Your movement is fluid when you put the condom on his length, and he is sure you have done this so many times. On other occasions, he’ll think something witty about it, but now he is rather intimidated. How is he supposed to compete with your experiences?

You move your hips slightly, as you start to sit down on his cock from one move. Slow and soft, he is sure you make sure it isn’t so intense for him, as your walls have a tight grip on his hard cock, and the feeling of finally being inside of a woman is incredibly intimate. His cock pulsates on your insides, and he has to look down, enjoying the sight of his thick cock stretching your pussy.

“Fuck…” You say breathlessly as you throw your head back, moaning in delight as you move your hips slightly.

“You’re so warm… and thigh..” he pants, his hands go to your hips as you ride him. 

“It feels nice?”

“More than that” He says looking up to you, and he whimpers as you move your hips. 

“I’ll let you get used to it.” You tell him softly “I think it could be a bit overwhelming, I guess”

“Yeah. A bit” he says with an awkward smile which makes you smile too, and you grab his cheeks as you lean a bit to kiss him softly. 

His enthusiasm is endearing, as he tries to passionately kiss you, but you are sticking with the slowness of it all. He whimpers a bit on your mouth as he can feel how your cunt tightens around him. 

Once you are apart, his glasses are again slowly sliding down on the bridge of his nose and you bite your lower lip as you hold a moan. God, what a hot nerd you are fucking.

“You are so amazing” He murmurs, looking up to you “And you feel so good…”

“Uh huh…” You hum as you whimper a bit, and so does he. 

“And I have… I have never done this before…” He mutters looking at where your pussy swallows his dick.

“I know” You say, giving him a peck. “But you make me so aroused, so hot…”

Michael blinks a bit confused, but he gains slight confidence in this. He nods at you and he lets his hands fall by the side of your legs, and he can only focus on the way that you ride him. You squeeze him, in all the way he can think of. Your cunt is squeezing his shaft. Your knees are squeezing his legs. All of your existence squeezes him, and he loves the feeling. 

He looks up at your face, you are moaning openly and you have your eyes closed as your hands rest on his biceps, helping you bounce on his cock. You look amazing. 

And your tits, God, your tits. Bouncing on his face as you ride him, all perky and perfect for him, and the sight of your tits make him leak more precum in the condom, as he tilts his hips slightly up so he gets deeper in the warmth of your cunt.

He stays looking at you, while his balls are tightening at how wet your pussy is. He is mesmerised by you, he cannot even find himself letting any sound out of his mouth. He is almost numb, looking at you as he makes you moan like this. 

He is making you moan desperately as you ride him. He is the one responsible to see how aroused he truly has you. You lean your body closer to his chest, moaning as you ride him, and he bites his lip desperate to cum. 

His own hips rut back to yours, thrusting clumsily as you sink down on his cock. Your pussy clenches around his cock, and he’s fully engrossed in the sensation.

Michael wants to cum so bad. He doesn’t think he has ever been in such a need to cum.It’s all his foggy mind can think of, cumming and you. And cumming in you, those two subjects interrelationate. 

“Tell me” He pleads, which makes you look at him again “Please, tell me how to make you cum”

His puppy eyes, how his glasses are slightly off on him, makes you moan almost on his face. 

“Your hand” You say, and he got the clue now. He is a quick learner, and instead of letting you hold his hand, he moves it down to your pussy. 

You moan at the feeling of his hesitant hand there, and he laughs a bit breathlessly, growing slightly bolder and he loves how desperate you seem. “Teach me”

“Fine, fine, wait..” You say stopping your movements, as reluctant you both may be to that.

You lean slightly back, your hand goes to grab his knee to help you not fall. He can see more of your pussy like that, and you sigh as if trying to think clearly.

“Here” You say, grabbing his wrist and moving it slightly up. He has no idea what you mean, but he is learning, so he follows your lead. “This is my clit, so you rub it… Not harshly, not too aggressive. It can be intense, but… you have to do it gently. Firm, but gently” 

He has no idea how to do both, but he’ll try. Before he can start, you grab his wrist again, and he is confused. What else is there that you take so long to say?!

You take his hand up, and your mouth is quick to engulf his index and middle finger inside, wettening them  with your own saliva before letting them go; not without leaving a provocative lick beforehand. 

“Now” You say with a slight smile “Just gently.” You repeat, and he nods.

He is so going to cum just from seeing you lick his fingers so lustfully. 

Michael tries his best, he does. His fingers find the little thing, so small, and he is unsure what response something so tiny could do. But anyways, he does as told. His fingers hesitate before rubbing slightly there, left to right at the beginning, and then up and down.

“F-Fuck!” You say almost closing your legs around his hand and dick, but you force yourself to remain open. Your other hand goes to hold you onto the mattress of the bed, so you don’t fall. You are leaning backwards now, and he can see your body in all it’s glory. 

It does have an amazing effect, he realises, as he rubs circles on your clit and you moan even higher, your legs tremble as you force them open, and you start lowering on his cock again. Unlike the last time, you don’t take the time to make sure his cock enters and comes out fully, but you just grind against it, and when you move up and down, it is barely just in the base of his cock. But the tip? It never leaves your wetness.

He wishes he could see the bump of his cock on your belly. He looks at your abdomen, and he can practically imagine how the shape of his cock would poke out from your abdomen.  

“I want to cum” He says, panting as his brain is overwhelmed. He is overdoing things, he tries to rationalise this, but between rubbing your clit, your cunt wrapping around his cock and his moans leaving his mouth, he feels like he will pass out any moment now.

“M-Me too” You whine, desperate as your hips rut more desperate on his cock, and that turns him even more. 

He has made a girl desperate for him. And he’ll make a girl cum on his cock.

Michael makes sure to rub your clit in a delicious manner. Or what he guesses is a delicious manner. And since you almost sob your moans, he’d say he is doing a fucking amazing job. 

“FUCK” He says as he feels your cunt squeeze him so much, that his mind practically goes blank “I-I’m cumming” He barely gets the words out as he feels himself spent on the condom inside.

He moans, loudly, it could be embarrassing if it wasn’t so pleasurable, and he has to throw his head back from the pleasure on how his shoulders tense up.

You grab his wrist, and he gets the clue that he has to keep his touch on your clit. Your cheeks are red from stimulation, and as he pants and whimpers from his orgasm, as he rubs your clit. It doesn’t take long, as you practically cum all over his cock, milking his dick and making sure his balls go empty. 

Even if he orgasmed first, your peak leaves him dry, and spent in more than one way. He doesn’t think he will ever hear a girl moan so loud and pleased as you when you cum thanks to him. 

When you fall to his side, he takes off the condom, leaving it on his bedside table. He looks at you, panting hard on his side, and he feels the same, as he looks at you, still mesmerised by you. 

He searches for your hand, awkwardly, and he moves you slightly closer to him. 

You both remain breathlessly, pants as you two face the ceiling. 

“So” You start saying, and he turns his head to yours, and you have another of your mischievous, alluring smiles on your face. “Have you blown the candles?”

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey saltburn #saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #ewan nation #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x fem!reader #smut #ewanverse #ewan mitchell #saltburn au

[abibliophobiaa]

Summary: You’ve never been one for love. Especially after your last round with it. Halloween rolls around and in comes Eddie Munson. He’s only in town for a couple days, you’re looking for no strings, and chances are you’ll never see him again anyway.

Easy, right?

That is, until you end up with an unexpected party favor.

mini series masterlist

next chapter

——

warnings: alcohol; smut; unprotected p in v; unplanned pregnancy and associated symptoms; major miscommunication. eddie munson x afab!reader(7k words)

——

“You’ve been staring around for hours. No one is catching your eye? Not even slightly? You’re not doing brain surgery, you’re just trying to get your toes wet.”

You knew this. But the music had been too loud, the room too heated, your body tucked away against the bar as you sat beside your best friend, sipping on a watery margarita that the ice had long since dissolved into.

All around you people bobbed and swayed to ‘Monster Mash.’ Cliche by all means, and yet it felt fitting when you appraised the crowd once more and noted the mummy dancing with his zombified partner. Further out you caught a werewolf in a particularly compromising position with a vampire, and a group of clowns crowded together hosting what looked to be a meeting.

“What about that Westley guy?”

Right — the one everyone had been talking about all night. The man who had the nerve to dress up as the direct counterpart to your own costume. With a huff, you hiked your leg up, crossing one over the other against the stool. The red dress around you shifted and moved, fingers reaching to adjust the belt around your waist.

“I haven’t seen him.” You shrugged, taking another sip of your drink. “For all I know, he doesn’t exist.”

Micah glanced about the room once again, her makeshift halo wobbling on her head. Somewhere in the distance her boyfriend, Jeremiah, was invested in a deeply riveting conversation about football with some of his friends from college. All of which had dressed in their old football jerseys, dark lines drawn haphazardly under eyes, helmets covering heads. She lingered on him for a moment, and then glanced further over your shoulder, lips tugging upward into a devilish grin. Oddly fitting for the girl dressed as an angel.

“Actually, he’s right there.”

Gravity sent your heart tumbling into your gut. Silly, when you’d thought about it. Just because he’d worn a costume from one of your comfort movies didn’t mean he’d be anything special. Multiple pirates, doctors, and the occasional Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger had already attempted to rouse a conversation, only for it to fall flat. This could very well end up the same, and this night was lost to the turmoil of the inner workings of your mind, still reeling from the sting rumbling in your chest over the past few months.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

But it wasn't a joke when you swiveled around on your stool and faced him. Not at all. In a dimly lit bar, packed too tight with too many bodies bumping you to and fro even as you presently sat, you spotted him. Found the guy people had been mentioning all night as the other half of your ‘couple’s costume,’ saying you both looked amazing together, despite the fact none of them knew he was quite literally a stranger to you.

He sat at a lonesome table. Leaned on an elbow with a cheshire grin spread across the prettiest set of pink lips. His dark curly hair was tied behind his head, tucked into the mask that covered the upper half of his face. Even partially obscured like that, he was handsome, freezing you in place with those piercing brown eyes that were locked unwaveringly on your silhouette.

So he’d noticed you too. Inwardly, you were beaming. After two months of couch surfing and feeling sorry for yourself after a failed relationship wherein you’d walked on your partner of two years with someone who most definitely wasn’t you, you’d decided tonight was the night you’d get back out there. A night of fun, a night to meet someone new, to let loose a bit.

“What are you waiting for,” your friend Micah asked, shoving you forward with a hasty push. “He’s your Westley. If this isn’t some weird ass fate, I don’t know what is.”

Your Westley’s smile grew wider as you approached. Corners dragged upward to form that broad grin, bracketed by the sweetest set of dimples you’d ever seen on a man. Heart pounding a bit, you leaned up against the table, letting out a noncommittal huff. Puffed out a deep breath that caught his attention and had those chocolate brown eyes solely on you.

“Is this space taken?” you asked, and he dipped his head in greeting. “So you’re the guy everyone has been talking about all night.”

“Ah, yes,” he laughed, and you couldn’t help but to smile at the very sound. It’s a lovely, hearty sound. The kind of laugh that seemed dangerous, because you might like it too much. “And you’re the girlfriend I didn’t know I had.”

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, taking a step closer. “Though it’s all very flattering. Prettiest Princess Buttercup here.” He dropped the lowest part into a whisper, “Definitely a compliment because, if I’m being honest, you’re way out of my league.”

Your cheeks burned with the compliment, feet fidgeting beneath you where you stood. He reached over and slid a chair beside his hip, patting the surface so you could hop on up and join him, a hand of his reaching out to steady you when you wobbled a bit. Another round of drinks were ordered and you learned quickly his name was Eddie and he’d been in town only for a couple weeks now. Had a few gigs in the city for the band he played in and would be off in another two days. Blew in and out like the storm that presently raged outside, wind howling, rain splashing against sidewalks, lightning painting the night sky in a shock of white before leaving it dark once more. He’d grown up in a small town, but realized he’d only ever had dreams that were too small for the walls he’d been raised in.

So he’d ended up on a short tour and would head off to California to start laying down tracks for the band’s first ever album. He sounded so hopeful and eager, so rejuvenated and excited about life, and it had you endeared to him. Drifting closer as the night went on and he asked you about your own life. Learned you grew up here in the city but craved something quieter, very much unlike him. You’d studied creative writing and English in college and wanted to write the stories people would one day know and love and shelve in their homes, but in the meantime you worked at a library. It wasn’t the most thrilling job, but it kept you abreast, and he regaled you with the endless fantasy titles he’d known and loved through the years.

It wasn’t long before the hours trickled on by and Micah approached the two of you with a sulking Jeremiah in tow. The latter of the two a little too inebriated based on the slight sway in his form and the hand Micah kept firmly planted around his forearm.

Her blue eyes flickered up at Eddie’s face, then drifted back to yours. “I’m taking this idiot home. He’s in time out —”

“Noooo,” he moaned, forehead pressing into the crook of his girlfriend’s neck.

“Are you coming back with me or…?” Micah’s eyes trailed back upward to Eddie once more, brows arched curiously.

Eddie looked at you and shrugged. “Up to you, Buttercup.”

“I’m gonna stay…actually.”

Micah nodded, giving you both one last glance over before tugging her boyfriend along behind her in the direction of the door. As she passed, she leaned up against the hollow of your ear and said loud enough over the music, “Be careful. Have fun. You’re beautiful and I love you and you deserve to enjoy yourself tonight, okay?”

Once they were gone your attention returned to the man swathed in black standing before you, shoulder bumping his. “It's too loud in here,” you shouted for emphasis, insides nearly rattling from the music booming from the speakers positioned about the room. “Is there somewhere we can go that’s a little more…”

“Private?” he asked, leaning down toward your ear. Chills skittered along your arms as his lips nearly brushed your skin there, gooseflesh pimpling in its wake. “I have a hotel room two blocks over. How do you feel about running?”

“Let’s go.” You grinned.

“As you wish.” He beamed, holding out a gloved hand for you to take.

Outside, the two of you huddled up beneath the small awning growing smaller by the second with the other patrons who had similar ideas of waiting for their rides and cabs or braving the fall storm head on and taking off into the soaked streets in their full Halloween costumes.

Laughter bubbled up from your lips as a particularly hard jolt against your back sent you tumbling into his form, a quick hand of his reaching out and curling low around your back. He tensed, eyes locked on yours, awaiting your response and you leaned further into him, relishing in the heat of his form.

Moments skittered by under the awning. His eyes roamed your form, dark and beautiful, ringed with those little crinkles that appeared in the corners whenever he smiled. He’d been smiling all night — at you, a thought that has little butterfly wings quivering low in your belly, and lower still at the suddenness of the desire ramping up in your bloodstream.

The glowing lights from the bar filter out onto the street. Flashed orange and red across Eddie’s features, painted him in vibrant color, highlighting the plushness of his lips, the curve of his jaw, the bump of his chin. Hesitant fingers reached up to brush at the curls tied behind his head, curled one of the ringlet strands around and around a fingertip, your forearm spreading over the space between his shoulders, around his neck until he pressed in closer to you. Those chocolate brown eyes flickered southward. Lingered on your lips briefly before traveling back up, asking that question without words. Your only answer was the upward tip of your mouth, leaning into the space, waiting to feel him warm against you.

Electricity danced in the moments shared between you. In the fingertips that pressed into his shoulder and gripped tight as his nose nudged at the space beside yours, your mouth tipping up closer to his. From here, you could smell the mint he’d tossed in his mouth on the way out, could feel the tremble of his breath against your sternum, feel the heat of it fanning over your lips.

But the kiss never came. Behind you, a group of friends pushed and shoved toward the front door, nearly sending you and Eddie into the sidewalk and out of the shelter provided by your awning. It dawned on you then, however begrudgingly, that maybe you should move, give others a space to wait for their vehicles, and start to head in the direction of his hotel room.

He seemed to agree, sliding his palm down your forearm to twine his fingers between yours. “Guess that’s our cue, huh?”

“Bet you’re glad you wore the equivalent of tights for pants today, huh?”

“Suppose it makes it easier for me to whisk you away in the night, now doesn’t it?” He barked out a laugh, and clutched your hand tighter, dragging you out onto the street and into the rain.

——

You were presently in the midst of what was officially the weirdest, most endearing hook up you’d ever had. Moments after rushing out into the busy city streets and getting absolutely drenched from head to toe, Eddie tugged you toward a grocery store, suggesting he had nothing back at the hotel. Had looked a little bashful about it, even when you reassured him it was fine and you’d manage without, though he wouldn’t hear any of it.

As a result, you trailed behind him, dress sopping wet and clinging to every inch of your body, helping gather some things you might need in between what you hoped would be an eventful afternoon. Water, snacks, and the like. He seemed so giddy with it, and you hated the way his dimple in his cheek had your heart and thighs clenching. You preferred only the latter of the two, and couldn’t afford yourself the emotional aspect that came along with the former.

Eventually you had both found yourselves in the frozen food aisle, his shoulder bumping yours, your fingers dancing in the spaces between the two of you, the anticipation of after burning brighter with every minute that passed.

“How do you think they know what…oh, I don’t know…Moose Tracks taste like?” Eddie asked, turning his head over his shoulder.

Fortunately for you, he’d removed his mask, revealing more of his features. Those curls that dangled along his brow line, the smattering of freckles along high cheekbones, the crinkled corners of his eyes whenever he smiled at you.

“What?” you asked, once more reminding yourself of just how differently this night was going than you’d originally anticipated.

“Like what makes a Moose Track a Moose Track?”

“I think it’s just a…mix of things that remind them of…you know what?” His eyes twinkled, and you shifted a little closer. It really sucked that he was cute — obnoxiously so. “I actually don’t know. But, I do think we have more than enough stuff here to feed an army. And I think the rain finally let up.”

“You want to head out?”

“I think we should,” you agreed, tugging him along behind you down the aisle, in search of the nearest check out line.

The walk to the hotel room reminded you both of what you’d intended for that evening. The curious glances you would catch him shooting your way, the way you’d do the same when he focused his attention ahead. It increased with every step closer to the looming building, the desire for closeness, to feel, to touch, to taste.

Burned brighter when he swiped his key card and you started shoving the things he’d brought inside of the mini fridge, before snatching two water bottles and placing them down on the bedside table. He whistled as you walked around the room, fingers snapping, one of his curls tucked against the fullness of his mouth.

“You know, we don’t have to do anything,” you reassured him, sensing the nervousness radiating from his form.

Those dark eyes settled on yours as you approached, palm coming up slowly to rest against his sternum, right where you could feel his heartbeat clanging against his ribs.

“It’s been a while,” he settled on, voice softer than it had been all evening, a tremorous quality catching your attention.

“We’ll go slow,” you promised, leaning up to finally, and happily, close the space between the two of you.

It felt like a long, shared exhale. The way he immediately knew which way to turn his head, how you liked for his calloused fingers to rest against your cheekbone, that you wanted to be as close as possible, pressed flush against his form. Your head swam as he turned you around and walked you backward until your backside thumped against the edge of the dresser positioned against the wall opposite the bed. Grunted as he reached a hand up the back of your neck and sought out that pesky zipper you wanted so badly pulled down.

As if he’d read your mind, the man in question gave the zipper a nice, hard tug and the fabric shifted and dropped around your shoulders, baring the similarly colored bra beneath. So maybe you’d gone shopping for your first foray back after your break up? Based on the darkened eyes honing in on the lacy fabric, you’d picked correctly.

“Such a shame,” he groaned against the curve of your collar bone, fingers pushing the dress down and onto the floor, “really liked that dress.”

“My turn,” you mused, fingers reaching forward to tug the tunic free from his obscenely tight pants.

He helped you with ease, arms lifting just enough to help pull it over his head, giggling as his endless mane of curls sprang free. Tattoos jumped to life before your eyes. The multiple on his arms and torso, some looking faded and older, likely done in someone’s house, and others freshly inked, leaving a tapestry of stories he’d likely tell you if you’d only had the time.

“Fuck it.” He reached down and cupped your jaw, bruising kiss after bruising kiss laid upon your mouth, your toes digging into the carpet below as pale fingers trailed down the center of your chest, and then lower still, pausing at the hem of your panties. “Can I touch you?”

You might burst into flames if he didn’t. “Please.”

“Never have to say please with me, Buttercup,” he said, fingers pushing past that lacy barrier until they met your flesh, knowing exactly what he’d find there. “Sweetheart…this all for me?”

“Don’t tease.”

A broken sigh spilled from your lips, fingers clutched tight around his forearm as those expert fingers dragged a slow circle around your clit before sliding back to your center, pushing in. Your head rolled back against the wall, heat blooming anew as he stepped closer into the circle of your thighs, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, enjoying the sounds made only for him, the slickness of your center practically pulling his fingers back in with every perfect thrust curled in that spot right where you needed him the most.

“Fuck, just like that, sweetheart,” he panted, mouth pressed tight to yours, grinning against your skin as you keened high and tight, creeping closer and closer to your edge.

And just when you’d thought you were about to explode into dozens of tiny stars like in the night sky above, Eddie stopped. You nearly cried out his name in your frustration, only to find him dropping down onto his knees in front of the dresser, capable hands tugging you closer to the edge, before he pushed the dainty fabric back to the side and swapped his fingers for his tongue.

One long stripe from center to clit was all you'd needed for the rubber band to snap. For the shaking to start, the chanting of his name like a mantra or a prayer to rouse the neighbors likely next door and alert everyone in the building to what magic Eddie had worked between your thighs.

“Not,” you gasped, leaning your head forward to rest against his heaving chest, “fair.”

“What’s not fair, sweetheart?”

“Too good at that.” Another rasped breath pooled from your lips, quieted by the sound of your lips pressing to his chest. Hazy eyes lifted to his face, a satisfied exhale slowing the rise and fall of your chest. “Get on the bed.”

“What do you —”

“On the bed,” you repeated, grinning wickedly as he backed up just enough so his kneecaps hit the mattress. “I want to look at you.”

And god, what a sight he was. Once you’d finally managed to tug his pants down, revealing the boxers beneath, you were rewarded with the fullness of Eddie Munson in the flesh. The narrow waist, the smattering of hair you kissed along his abdomen, the curve of his chest, the freckles along his chest and shoulders. Traced along the tattoos on his chest, the sides of his ribs, the one on his upper thigh, before dragging upward to slide over the increasingly — and massively impressive — hardened cock peeking out from the waistband of his boxers.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he blew the words out on a shaky exhale as you squeezed a little tighter, gauging what he liked.

Your grin grew as you wiggled the remnants of his clothing off his hip and cupped the weight of him in your palm. Perfect. He was absolutely perfect, and you wanted so badly to show him just how much you thought so, sliding down further onto the edge of the bed, tongue dragging a long line up the underside, along that prominent vein that had him bucking upward off the bed.

“Can I, Eddie?”

He watched through hooded lashes as your eyes zeroed in on his leaking tip, thumb sliding over the pre-cum there, before gliding your palm in a slow downward motion around him. He nodded, breath nearly cutting off completely as you finally, and blessedly, welcomed him into your mouth, immediately knowing nothing would compare to this moment and this girl.

Ruined. You’d ruined him for others, your pretty smile around his cock driving him too swiftly to a precipice he didn’t want to see the end of. Not yet. “Wait, wait, wait. Fuck. Your mouth is perfect, sweetheart. But — mmm — I need you.”

He pulled you upward with a gentle hand on the back of your neck, rolling you over beneath him, tongue marking a path along your chest, the peaks of your nipples, the delicate skin of your abdomen. With each pass of his lips over your flesh, you sank deeper into the mattress, knee bent, foot digging into the space above his hip, drawing him close enough that you could feel his glistening, wet hardness brushing your abdomen.

“Someone’s impatient,” you teased, moaning as his finger circled your wet entrance. “Want you inside me.”

“Patience, Buttercup,” he practically purred, reaching over into the bedside table to find…nothing. “No. Oh shit. We didn’t get condoms. I’m such an idiot, I —”

“Shit,” you whimpered, jolting upright and nearly smashing your skull into his as he double checked the inside of the drawer. “What about your suitcase? Wallet?”

“I told you I don’t exactly do this often.”

Those dark brows knitted together on his forehead, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. You remembered then the fortunate and recent development of starting birth control after Micah suggested she could never live without it, and suddenly you wanted nothing more than to clasp your hands together and thank the heavens for the little pills you had back home in your friend’s bathroom.

“I’m on the pill,” you told him, swallowing the nervousness that grew with every beat of your heart. “And I’ve been tested recently. I’m clean.”

Maybe it was stupid. Maybe you should have known better.

“I’ve been tested since my last time too. I’m good,” he said, unmistakable desperation filling his voice.

“I don’t want to stop,” you whispered as he rolled onto his back.

“Me neither,” he agreed as you clambered over his lap and bracketed his hips with a thigh on either side.

Lured with the wonderful bliss that was Eddie Munson’s lips warm and plus against yours, you gripped him in hand and slowly lowered yourself down onto him, completely bare. There was something so raw about the moment. About the shuddered breath you both released, the way his hands cupped your hips as he pushed in deeper than you ever thought possible, his voice a broken mix of ‘that’s a good girl,’ ‘taking me so well,’ ‘look so good full of my cock,’ as you move over him.

You wanted to hate that you end up doing something between fucking and making love. For something so casual, it feels almost too intimate, the way you collided together like two pieces fitted together of a puzzle that had only been missing those parts.

And it wasn’t gentle, his fingers clutched in your flesh, feet planted on the bed as he eventually pounded up into you — but it was also somehow tender. A complicated mess, just like the shattered pieces of your heart as he groaned one last time and urged you to come with him, pulling you closer in his arms. His fingers circled your clit until you cried his name and clenched down around him, whimpering at the warmth of him spilling inside.

As you both drifted back to reality, he maneuvered around the bed and washed himself from between your thighs. Cooed when you winced at the cold contact, dropping a kiss against your forehead and telling you that it had started storming again. He could either call you a cab or you could stay the night, he’d suggested. You hadn’t anticipated spending the night with him, but after he dug around for the ice cream and M&Ms you got from the supermarket, you found you couldn’t say no to him.

Especially when he turned on the television and, funnily enough, The Princess Bride was on. Fate, or something more, seemed to laugh in your face. Gleeful as you sprawled out beneath the covers naked as the day you were born beside the man who you quickly learned enjoyed handfuls of popcorn mixed with his sweet chocolate treats.

It didn’t take long before he’d grown hard again, the lights dimmed and the food forgotten, your soft sighs and pleasured peals filling the room as he pushed in and watched as your eyes rolled back and back arched prettily for him.

And later, after you were both satiated and satisfied, you fell asleep to the sounds of Inigo Montoya’s famous speech, and the gentle inhales and exhales of the man sprawled out beneath you.

——

Daylight streamed in through the olive curtains positioned against the wall across from you. You hadn’t noticed them last night. Hadn’t noted the wooden walls, the pale ceiling above, nor the cream bedspread across your hips. Hadn’t noticed a lot of things, it seemed, other than the man who dozed behind you, tattooed arm slung low around your waist, keeping you in close.

Fallen asleep — you’d both fallen asleep watching The Princess Bride, much to your grunted amusement as you shifted up and into a sitting position. Eddie’s arm thumped onto the bed, leaving a wrinkled mess around his sinewy forearm. Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you took in the curve of his jaw. The way he looked more boyish than his nearly thirty years, lips parted in a sleepy breathing pattern, curls strewn all about his face. A smile graced your lips, fingers of yours rolling over the curve of his back, the heft of his shoulder, the breadth of his bicep.

Part of you craved curling back up beside him. Wanted to feel his mouth roving over yours, across your skin, between your thighs once more. Would probably dream about the way his face had scrunched up in pleasure before he came apart beneath you last night for weeks to come. But your eyes noticed the time ticking on the far wall, alerting you that work started in two hours. Some weekend reading activity for the children in your town you’d volunteered to work weekend hours for; hindsight, as they say, was twenty-twenty.

“She’s running away in the night,” he grumbled beside you, mouth rolling over to press into the pillow you had slept soundly on for a shocking eight hours, letting out a loud yawn. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d done so. That curly head of hair lifted, too-long strands falling into his gaze as he pinched one eye shut and glanced toward the giant bedroom window. “Or…morning, I guess?”

“I have work,” you said, reaching over to snatch your underwear from off the floor.

He watched with rapt attention as you whirled around and clasped your bra into place, cheeks burning despite the fact he’d seen every inch of you merely hours ago. The man propped himself up onto one elbow, your eyes catching the bat tattoos on his arm as his fingers reached over to curl around your hip, dragging you back down into bed.

Soon enough it was loud giggles, his fingers dancing along your sides, noisy kisses against your own. But it didn’t take long before you were reduced to breathy sighs. His fingers against the span of your hips, his chest pressing yours into the mattress. Lips over yours, against your cheek, the curve of your throat, the hollow between your breasts, the valley of your abdomen. He stopped with a nip along your hip bone, tongue laving over the sensitive skin there.

“Do you have to go?” he groaned against your stomach, placing a final kiss there before crawling back up your body and cradling the back of your head with one hand, his body weight perched on the other elbow, face hovering over your own. Pretty, he was so damn pretty and you wished you could hate him for it.

“I guess I have a few minutes,” you suggested coyly.

And it was all Eddie needed before he had you beneath him once more singing a tune he knew he’d never forget.

You dressed in silence after. He pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a thin sweater while you glanced at the wrinkled heap of your dress from the night before. It hadn’t dawned on you the complications of getting your feet wet on Halloween — at least, not until now.

“I can’t walk back to Micah’s in that,” you groaned, pointing to the messy ball of fabric on the floor.

“Wait — I have an idea!”

Eddie rummaged around a box in the far corner of the room and tossed a tee shirt your way. Across the front was ‘Corroded Coffin’ in a messy font that reminded you of how your brain often felt after one too many cups of coffee in the morning.

“Your band?” you asked, turning the shirt around to show him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, white teeth flashing with his smile. “You know, you could see us some time.”

You quickly slipped the dress over your head and let the skirt ruffle messily along the floor, then moved to roll up the billowy sleeves to your shoulders.

“I can’t say that I’ll be in California any time soon,” you told him, pulling the tee over your head next and draping it over the belt. Like this, it looked more like an oddly fitted skirt and a top. You already decided that was much better than a Halloween costume, so it would do until you got home and could change.

He nodded rapidly, like he knew that, but hadn’t realized that you’d be coasts apart in only a couple of days.

“Well…” he trailed off, searching around the bedside table for a moment.

Once he procured a pencil and a piece of paper, he scribbled down a string of numbers you immediately knew were the hope for something more from a boy with kind eyes, a beautiful smile, and a heart of gold. Your chest ached. If only you’d met him two years ago, at a better time, in a place where you were more open to whatever this could not be.

“My number — for the place I’ll be staying at for the next couple months,” he explained, tucking it into the exposed circle of your palm, closing your fist within his fingers. “Maybe, I don’t know…we can talk?”

“I can do talking,” you conceded, already hating the fact you knew you wouldn’t be utilizing the number.

It was better this way; he was better off this way.

You both parted with a kiss in the doorway. With his arms looped low around your waist in a way that felt too familiar. A way that suffocated, heart twisting at the soft smile that graced his pretty mouth when he wished you a good shift and you wished him a safe flight.

The walk home was all inward grins that flowed on your face until it hurt. Waves to random strangers passing on the street, curious gazes from onlookers at the billowing sleeves you kept shoving up into your tee shirt as you passed. Memories of the night before flashed in your mind. Of his fingers tugging the zipper on the dress, tossing your underwear alongside his on the floor, mouth on yours, hands learning the contours of your body, the way he fitted perfectly inside you.

Another time, another place, another day maybe.

And that day was not today.

Micah was sprawled across the kitchen island when you entered. You shut the door as quietly as possible behind you, only to find she’d already been awake anyway. A cup of likely long gone cold coffee rested beside her along with a bottle of painkillers, her forehead pressed against the cool tile, nursing what you imagined had to be the headache from hell.

“You’re home late,” she grumbled, pushing her head up into her hands. Blonde hair spilled around her forearms, face covered behind her palms. “I’m assuming you had a good time. Which will at least make one of us. Jere passed out as soon as we got home and snored all night.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” you apologized, stepping further into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator immediately for some water. “I…we had fun.”

“I’m going to need you to spill, because he was cute even with the mask. Don’t think I didn’t notice,” she mused, suddenly healed of her headache, what with the way she looked at you like she’d received the best news of her life.

“I accomplished exactly what I wanted to. I got my toes wet.” You shrugged, lathering some butter onto a freshly toasted bagel.

“You like him,” she screeched, making her own self wince at the sheer volume of it.

You did. You do. But those feelings would fade. Your resolve had already hardened because he wanted romance and flowers and you needed no strings. He deserved that much — he deserved so much.

“We had sex, that’s all. And he’s leaving for California in a few days. I’m never going to see him again. So it doesn’t really matter, now does it?”

——

It hadn’t felt real. For days, you’d doubted every symptom. Every inkling that might have alluded to your present condition.

First, it had been the realization that your period was late. Not even the one or two days you would have pushed aside as a result of stress, the extra hours you’d taken up at work to try and save a little money here and there for a new apartment, or your severe lack of sleep. Then, the nauseousness started. In waves, most days, and definitely not only in the mornings like you’d been led to believe your whole life. Your chest ached next; a fullness that felt unlike your normal, monthly symptoms. Chalked it up to your oncoming period. The same period by that point was nearly two weeks delayed. There was also the fact that no matter how much you slept, you’d still felt like it wasn’t enough. Found yourself dozing off at work, yawning standing in the line for groceries, losing focus while out with friends.

There was also the fact statistics were on your side. You’d done all the right things and were on birth control at the time. So it couldn’t be…that, right? Statistically improbable, unlikely, unwarranted. At least, that was what you had chosen to reassure yourself with, quieting the shouting in your skull that suggested otherwise.

It wasn’t until you were sprawled out against that obnoxiously crinkly white paper in the doctor’s office a little over a month after Halloween that you’d even allowed the thought to enter your mind. It also happened to be the first moment you wondered if you were about to have the entirety of your life changed by a night with a boy in too tight pants you’d definitely not thought about even once since you’d spent the night with him. And you most definitely didn’t picture his dark pupils expanding in the night as you rolled over him, his palms gripping your hips, your hands on his chest, heads thrown back in shared ecstasy.

No.

Not at all.

Six weeks, they told you, with sympathetic looks and uncertain smiles as you exhaled shakily and stared up at the ceiling to stop the room from spinning out of control around you. Six weeks pregnant and undoubtedly so, based on the rapid thrum of the baby’s heartbeat on the screen before you. Strong, they’d said. Perfectly healthy for someone at this point in your pregnancy. They printed pictures up for you of the tiny gummy bear with arms and you held it in trembling hands as they began to speak. Words strung together to form sentences you’d barely understood. Options for next steps, vitamins to take, habits to stop, foods to eat and foods to avoid, how much caffeine to drink, how much weight you could lift and what activities you should start to limit—your head spun with it and continued the whole quiet walk home back to Micah’s place she shared with her boyfriend, Jeremiah.

She welcomed you with open arms as you entered their apartment with a pamphlet on pregnancy in one hand and your pocketbook in the other, whimpered cries of not knowing what to do soaking through her knitted sweater. She’d accepted it without hesitation, just as she always did and would. Held you close to her chest — and hissed at Jeremiah to leave when he’d eventually poked his head in — as you processed the emotions swirling like an endless kaleidoscope in your mind.

And later, when your tears had dried and she’d plopped a freshly opened box of ice cream in your lap and demanded you eat, she asked, “Please just…tell me it’s absolutely Westley’s and not Paul’s.”

“Six weeks,” you sighed, watching her shoulders relax. There was no mistaking who the baby’s father was, and at least that brought you some comfort, “Definitely Westley’s.”

Though you weren’t sure if that made it any better.

“I just want you to know it’s going to be okay,” Micah reassured you, reaching over to rub at your forearm. But did she really know that? How could she? Because to you, it felt like the earth had fallen out of orbit, spinning dizzily now with no signs of stopping any time soon. “I know we don’t have the most space right now, but the couch turns into a futon. It’s yours until you find something otherwise, you know that.”

Telling Eddie his world was (potentially) about to change happened two weeks later. You needed some time to process, is what you’d told yourself was the reason why you’d delayed. After hours of debating, you decided to keep it, and knew that there was always the chance Eddie didn’t want kids — always the chance he’d want to pretend it never happened and that he didn’t want to be a part of its life. Regardless of what he chose, you’d set your mind on being a mother, and you’d do it alone if you had to. But he at least deserved to know; deserved the option of choosing them, even if all you’d had was a night fueled by lust, because you weren’t interested in anything more than that.

Fear had clamped your mouth shut, preventing you from forming those two words for fourteen days. Just two simple words that would have opened the dam to let in the floodgates for the conversation that needed to happen.

Eddie, I’m pregnant.

Eddie, I’m pregnant.

I’m pregnant.

You’d rehearsed it all afternoon, pacing a certifiable hole in the ground from how rapidly you’d moved. Had even stood in front of your friends and had them listen to it until you felt confident enough to do it for real. Gripped Micah’s hand tight as you swiped the man’s number from your pocketbook and dialed. It rang once, then twice, and you worried he wouldn’t answer or you’d caught him at a bad time when the line exploded with sound. Voices. Dozens of voices spilled through the other line, and music along with it.

You winced. “Uhm, Eddie? Is this the right number?”

A long pause extended, drowned out by guitar strings and drum beats. “Uh — uh, yeah. This is him.”

He sounded gruffer than you remembered — voice tinged with a smokier quality that seemed almost unfamiliar to you now. Not that you’d spoken much that night. Maybe he’d caught something, maybe he was sick. Maybe it was merely the weeks that had grown on since you’d seen him, and he'd become another person in the crowd already — someone you knew if only for a night. Heart pounding, you gripped Micah’s hand tighter and wound the phone wire around a pointed fingertip.

“Hi…I’m sorry I’m only calling now. Busy, you know?” A lie, because you’d never intended to call. It had been one night; that was all it was ever meant to be. “It’s the…girl from the party. The Buttercup to your Westley costume on Halloween.”

He chuckled in reply, and you wondered if maybe he was shy. He’d been looser the night you met — louder. Boisterous and passionate. Carefree and fun. But you wondered briefly if that was the glass of whiskey he’d drunk before you slipped away to his hotel room hearing him now. But you remembered that next morning, too; his splendid affection, the kissing, the exuberance of his persona, the way he’d made you fall apart around him again.

It seemed…strange now. Cut off, cold even.

“I’m…pregnant. I just —” You swallowed the knot of fear forming in the back of your throat and continued, “I just thought you should know…because it’s yours.”

There was another prolonged pause.

Nervousness welled up in your throat the longer it continued. Joined that roiling nausea that had become your friend and foe these weeks. Swallowing thickly, your fingers pressed over the span of your abdomen, over the knitted sweater and skin protecting your tiny secret — still not visible to others yet, but wholly your own all the same. You’d already decided you would love them fiercely enough for the both of you if he didn’t want anything to do with it, just so they’d never feel like they were missing out.

Then, after what felt like decades, he asked, “Who is this again?”

You repeated your name, nervousness rattling your bones, fingers trembling in Micah’s. Micah mouthed out ‘Breathe,’ even though you were doing anything but.

The line went dead, and your heart along with it.

——

let me know what you think! 🩷

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction

[ladythornofrivia]

🍒 The Devil’s Tongue 🍒

Michael Gavey x Reader (PART ONE)

summary: you transferred into Oxford after moving out from your country for a better change, and unexpectedly meeting Michael Gavey in a quiet library, leads to something more.

warnings: creepy vibes from michael gavey, reader being oblivious, stalking, michael being horny, p in v sex, loss of virginity, jealousy, misunderstandings, obsession, belt kink, panty kink, scent kink, voice kink, breeding kink, michael gavey being a smartass, michael gavey is horny for math, michael gavey is a smartass, clueless reader, nerdy yet hot michael, lust at first sight, sex in the library, sex on the table, kitchen sex, oral sex, cam girl, fingering, sex during tutoring session, reader teasing, reader being a dominatrix in bed, food porn.

a/n: i forgot to review the movie saltburn last year, so I’ll give it a short review. Saltburn is a weird movie, but i watched it because of Ewan Mitchell. While ewan mitchell is 10/10, saltburn is 7/10, because of the bathtub scene and the grave scene. the only thing that’s good is the cinematography, music and ewan mitchell. i wish there’s more scenes from him. yes, i keep saying his name! he’s so fucking hot as a nerd. this one shot will be long.

You like cherries.

There’s something mysterious and tempting about the roundish and reddish fruits. Cherries are sweet, and it’s dark-reddish color brought an appeal to your appetite and. Appeal that also changes your view in fashion.

And as hot as the Devil’s tongue.

Red symbolized lust.

Sinful, they proclaimed.

So does your pussy, when you splayed across the bed, waiting for Michael to enter and see the reaction of his when you splayed naked in bed with thick whip cream smothered on your tits, waist, and your pussy decorated in whip cream swirled with cherry on top.

***

A Year Ago…

Your parents and your attention seeking relatives are no good. Red is as sin as lust—the devil’s skin, the devil’s horn.

Other than black and pink, you like the dark-cherry color. All your aesthetics are cherry red—well, the undertones to match your little room at your small house belongs to your parents.

Them and their sinless views of the world has sickened to your stomach. You don’t want to be like your hypocritical, martyr parents for the rest of your life, so you applied for the university at Oxford and Northamptonshire. You got accepted to the university. Despite being a young woman, you managed to prove them wrong.

And sever ties with them to go at the University of Oxford, where you encounter numerous people. You’ve done research to get things right—not to be frigid or superficially pretentious; you didn’t want to embarrass yourself on the spot if you chose to be ignorant.

One thing that no one else knows of you, is that you moonlight as a dominatrix on a live stream. Every night, you broadcast online to pleasure yourself—that’s how you got money to bail from a strict and hypocritical religious household.

Few of the students looked at your direction, giving a side-eye. You overheard them calling you a prostitute, but you couldn’t care less. Dress to impress for yourself. You mostly wore bike leather jacket, a tank top, mini skirt and a chunky dark-cherry red boots with light make up, but the lipstick is glossy dark red—and not the irritable, sticky kind.

Your long locks tossed at the side, already at your assigned room, but you shut the windows completely. You don’t want to reveal the private side of your internet sensation. After closing the curtains, you’re off to the hall, where people gathered and talk, mainly about drama and parties.

You hadn’t known one. But you had party to yourself of gaining source of income from self-pleasure.

There you sat down, and overheard someone at your left. Afar, you saw a young man named Oliver Quick and another guy with nerdy glasses.

Michael Gavey.

“Fuckin’ ask me a sum then!” The chatter dimmed when a young man shouted about math.

No one really likes as the guy with the nerdy glasses does. But he does look cute when he’s fuming.

Maybe he’s sexually frustrated. All it needs is I need to work on a poor guy. Poor guy is so frustrated—a no man island himself, like Oliver Quick.

You could tell. So you chimed in.

“What’s the square root of 69”

Both boys turned to look at you.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Oliver inquired, perplexed.

“Oh, just a curious person asking him a question,” you said, jerking your head towards the blond and cutely frustrated boy.

“8.30662386292,” is all the blond uttered.

Your lips tugged into a smirk, and left.

Interesting, now I have a new kink to look forward to for my next kinky session.

***

It’s quite luxurious for a library—grand yet old like wines in the cellar. You studied Political Science and Art, and while you studied and sometimes drawing, but a certain snack bar caught your eye; it was placed above your drawing.

“I got you a crunchie,” a voice said. You turned and saw Michael Gavey.

“Oh, um, thanks?”

“I have never seen you before,” he noted.

“Really? So do I.”

“As a matter of fact, you have disrupted us during our friendly conversation.”

Oliver Quick was anything but friendly and comfortable.

“Okay and?”

He quirked a brow. “Your attitude is unusual.”

“Well, where I came from, it’s not really an issue. I’m a straight forward kind of gal,” you explained.

Michael hummed, staring at you.

“Pardon my rudeness. I’m Michael Gavey.” His hand stretched out. “I never get your name.

“I’m (Y/N) (L/N).” You offered a handshake in return.

“Where are you from?”

“I’m from America.”

“Ah, yes. The land of freedom,” he commented, trying to make you laugh.

You laughed awkwardly. You have never smiled or laughed before—in a non-superficial way. You laughed and smiled during as a cam girl, but other than that, you never smile genuinely.

Somehow it caught his eye. His glasses beamed that you could see the color of his hues.

“An awkward foreign girl.”

“Yeah, so? I’m not really a people-person.”

“Why did you come here, then? For a good fuck?”

Ghastly, you turned around to see if anyone catches his words, but nobody pays attention.

“Are you going to the party?”

“What party?”

“The party Felix and his friends are heading tonight.”

“Who the hell is Felix?”

Michael darted his eyes behind you, and followed the sign; Felix and Farleigh sat at the back between the shelves.

“Apparently, he’s hosting a party tonight. NFI, me and you. Not Fucking Invited.”

“Well, I don’t a fuck about parties that much.”

Michael tsked. “That’s a very strong language.”

“Says the guy who says NFI. Besides, I don’t like parties,” you said, and it wasn’t a half lie. You have an upcoming camgirl session tonight.

“A shame,” Michael said, then reaching for the crunchie.

You have never tried snacks from another culture.

“Is it good?” you asked him.

He ripped the snack bar open, and gave you a piece. “Try it and see for yourself.”

And you did.

It was worth it.

Nevermind how Michael watched you in fascination.

***

The roofs and walls of University has been but a sham; it was real quiet.

Too quiet.

You hated quiet rooms.

In your next session, your fingers swirled your swollen clit, thinking of Michael Gavey’s rosy lips and tongue licking and nibbling your wet cunt and a tight hole.

You never fucked anybody, but you wanted your first time to be special. You rode on a dildo, trying not to moan so loud, but you come down high. The faster you moved, the more erotic images of a nerdy Michael seeping into you.

This is my kind of party.

***

Somewhere, in a darkened room, Michael Gavey’s hand filled with cum, and his other hand pressed the send button on his computer screen.

It was sensational to see.

You.

Who would’ve thought he met you—a famous camgirl.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how your eyes twinkled when you ate crunchie for the first time—far from the horniness and snobbish act you put up in public. It was a delight to see . With your outstanding getup and attitude, he knew that he’s in a right place.

Taglist: @toodlesxcuddles @kittendoll05 @omgsuperstarg @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @danika1994 @angeljcca @marvelescvpe @kukulyarva @namelesslosers @heavenly1927 @snh96 @fandom-maniac-anime @httpsmenace @velunis @nananeptune @domithebomi @moonseye @faesspace @tm-starr @xinthia19 @popsycles @halsteadstyles @lothiriel9 @liannafae @ammo23 @blackswxnn @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @qardasngan @justyelena @jolixtreesunn @runekisses @thought--bubble @remuslupinwife1 @evergreen9083 @foggypeacestarlight @dixie-elocin @galactict3a @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216 @kimsubin05 @blackgaladriel @valeskafics @theboleyngirlx @elaratyrell @mylosz0

#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #reader insert #reader #fem reader #female reader #saltburn #ewan mitchell #smut #writers of tumblr #writer #ao3 #ao3 writer #writerblr #writers #blogger #blog #angst #michael gavey x you #michael gavey smut #ewan nation #saltburn fanfiction #fluff #my wrtitng #ewanverse #tumblr #write

[bloodhoundluke]

drunken smiles & fishnet stockings

pairing: luke hemmings x fem! reader

description: it's halloween and luke is hosting a party! luke and y/n know each other, but little do they know that this night would change something pivotal between the duo.

warnings: 🔞 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. sex talk, smut, protected p in v, alcohol consumption, cursing, fluff, an embarrassing amount of pet names. (i don't think there’s anything else??).

word count: 5,8k-ish. a/n: hey there friends! 🌟 i wanted to publish this fic before publishing requested & other fics, i'm working on all of them so pls be patient! and this is my first fic which contains smut so there's a huge chance this sucks (i'm actually nervous to release this pls help me i'm scared lol) 😬 also, i have a lot of deadlines atm so pls bare with me, i am working on the requests whenever i can. thank you for supporting my blog, i adore you all so much 🤍 happy late halloween to everyone who celebrated 🎃

dividers by @silkholland.

"Y/N!", you heard your best friend yell from the other side of your studio apartment. You had been getting ready for nearly two hours, and to one one’s surprise, you and your best friend were already late. Calum had been texting you for a while now, telling you two to hurry up. 

"What?"

"We are so late! We need to get going! Oh my god, this is so embarrassing", your best friend sighed and now stood next to you. You were still fixing your hair in front of a full body mirror.

"Okay okay, stop fussing. Do I look okay?", you asked them and placed the curling iron on top of your drawer, shutting it off. You reached for the hairspray sitting on the drawer, and looked over at your friend who looked absolutely stunning. 

"Yes, you look amazing Y/N. If I wasn't your friend I'd totally hook up with you", your friend cheered and nudged your shoulder gently. 

"Gosh, thanks. I'd totally hook up with you too", you giggled and took a glimpse of their police costume. You ruffled your hair slightly and placed some hairspray on your locks to hold them in place.

You locked your hands with your friend’s, and got into the cab that was waiting outside. 

You had been invited to your friend Luke's Halloween party. You had met him a few years prior through your mutual friend Calum, who was also his bandmate and one of his best friends. Calum and you had known for four years or so, and you considered him to be one of your closest friends. You considered yourself lucky to have a friend like him, since you could tell him anything and you knew he wouldn’t judge you.

You looked through the cab window with the city lights passing by. You wondered who’d be at the party. Luke must have sent invitations for hundreds of people, since he was a pretty popular guy. You found the guy and his shy-ish exterior rather charming, but only in a platonic way. Luke and you weren’t extremely close, but you exchanged text messages every now and then. 

You arrived at the party and looked at the sea of people, who were mingling with each other in their Halloween costumes. Luke’s house was decorated in decorative spider web, pumpkins, and some skeleton figures. Purple lightning illuminated the whole house. You liked the decorations, it wasn’t too much or too little.

You and your best friend decided to go and say hello to Calum and his group of people. Calum hugged you tightly and commented on how he hadn’t seen you in ages. His girlfriend, Brandy, did the same. They were wearing a matching set of vampire costumes. You were happy for Calum, he had finally found a girl who loved him just the way he was.

You walked over to Ashton, Michael, Crystal and Luke. Ashton was dressed in a cowboy costume, which made you smile a bit since he practically dressed like one in real life. He brought you into a bear hug and you couldn't help but smile. Ashton always made you feel so welcomed. Michael and Crystal goofed around in their Anime costumes. You catched up with them and then finally noticed something familiar about Luke’s costume. It was a Harry Potter costume.

No fucking way.

"Cool costume", Luke commented as he saw you eyeing his Gryffindor badge, and the lightning bolt on his forehead. His hair had grown out a bit, but it didn't look bad. Actually, it looked anything else than bad. That man could definitely pull off any hairstyle, you were sure of it.

"Thanks! You too. Suits you", you stated and straightened your own Gryffindor badge on your costume. Dressing as Ginny Weasley, or what you called it low-budget Ginny since you had no cape, was a decision you had made a few days ago. You were supposed to dress as a Pumpkin, but you managed to break the costume and didn’t have the time to fix it. So the second best option was Ginny.

You sighed and looked around the room, thinking of grabbing a drink.

“Oh my gosh! We need to take a picture of you two”, your best friend suddenly exclaimed and you giggled, nervousness plastered all across your face. You saw them giving you the look, and knew instantly what it meant. They believed in fate, what you on the other hand called nonsense. You were sure Luke and you dressing in similar costumes was some sort of sign of “fate” to your best friend. Luke and you could never happen. 

“Really?”, you giggled as you felt a knot in your stomach. Luke was sometimes difficult to read, and you weren’t entirely sure if he would conform to the idea.

“Yes!”, your best friend commented, and ‘totally’ and ‘absolutely’ from Michael, Crystal, Calum, Brandy and Ashton followed after. You and Luke both looked at each of them, then finally looked at each other. Your friends would never let it go, so you’d better just get it out of the way.

“Okay”, you accepted your defeat. “You okay with that?”, you confirmed Luke. “Yeah, sure, why not?”, he took a sip of his beer and placed the bottle on the counter, giving you a small smile. 

You, Luke and your best friend found a spot in Luke’s house and you settled in with Luke against the white wall, as your best friend was holding their phone towards you two. Luke placed his other hand on your lower back, and you placed yours on his stomach. 

“This okay?”, you looked up to him and shuffled a little closer to the man. You saw him eyeing your legs, which were covered in fishnet stockings. His oceanic blue eyes met yours, and you did your best not to drown in them. You hadn’t even chugged down one drink, and you were already a fool for some man. And worst of all, it was your friend. You blamed this growing lust for him on the Halloween spirit. Surely someone had once said that Halloween brings out feelings you don’t usually feel.

“Uh..yeah, sure”, he cleared his throat and chuckled. “You ready?”, he offered you a little smile.

“S-sure”, you returned the smile and you both stared directly at the camera.

“And say….cheese!”, your best friend cheered.

You took an awkward glimpse in Luke’s direction and both of you bursted out laughing. The photos shown afterwards were pretty cute, you had to admit that. And Luke’s hand on your lower back left you yearning for more of his touch.

Damn, you really needed a drink. And to forget Luke fucking Hemmings' hands.

—❦

After taking the picture of you and Luke, you had been mingling with people, eating, and drinking a few tequila sunrises. You had just settled into Luke’s living room to play Spin the Bottle, the classic party game. The group playing consisted of you, your best friend, Luke, Ashton, Calum, Brandy, Michael and Crystal. To be honest you were zoned most of the time, since you found the game a bit ridiculous.

Then you heard your name as the bottle pointed towards you. In your alcohol-infused state, you picked a dare.

“I dare you to kiss the most attractive person in the room”, Ashton dared. You heard a few encouraging comments coming from your friends, and Brandy gave you a wide grin.  “Ash? Really?”, you squeaked, and gave him a deadly glare. “Well, didn’t you pick a dare, pumpkin?”, he asked and chuckled. Suddenly the rush of confidence you had seemed to fade out, and you mentally cursed the drummer.

“Okay”, you sighed, and looked across the room. The choice was obvious, but you didn’t want to give it away. So you pretended to consider your options for a while.

You got up from the floor, and got on your knees in front of Luke. You caught him looking at you, and he looked away. But then you leant to kiss him, and he kissed you back. The tingling feeling of him kissing you back flustered you. You shouldn’t like the feeling of his lips pressed against yours this much, but you did. His lips brushed over yours delicately, and your heart was pumping. It made no sense, but you loved every second of it. His beard stubble tickled you, but you didn't care. Not everyday you got the chance to kiss Luke fucking Hemmings, who was practically the hottest guy you had ever seen.

You backed away from the kiss first, then did Luke. 

 “Cool”, he let out a nervous chuckle and you did the same. Cool…really? You didn’t know if you should have been offended or relieved that the awkwardness of it was finally over.

“That was hot”, your best friend whispered into your ear as you went back to your place on the floor. “He’s hot”, you whispered back. The taste of pure tequila lingered on your lips.

“And Ashton’s so hot too”, they whispered. “Go get him, Y/B/F/N”, you advised, and winked at them.

The game continued and the next rounds were spent by hearing how Ashton’s favorite sex position was Basset Hound Doggy and Brandy’s biggest turn off in a relationship was controlling behavior. You also saw your best friend give a lap dance to the person who they fancied the most in the room, Ashton. They both seemed to enjoy it. Michael and Crystal had also shared a steamy make out session, to which you all cheered.

It was Luke’s turn next.

“Hmmm…okay. What is your biggest turn on?” Michael asked Luke and took a sip of his Corona, placing the bottle on the floor afterwards. Luke’s answer interested you, you had to admit. 

“Ohh…got many. But neck kisses are a big one”, Luke slyly answered and gulped down his tequila. “Ohhh, that’s a good one”, Ashton agreed and you saw him looking in your best friend’s direction. You rolled your eyes slightly, and giggled to yourself. They would totally share the bed tonight. 

Luke spun the bottle, which landed on Calum. He chose the truth. Luke didn’t come up with anything, so your best friend chose the question instead. 

“Which two people in this group should hook up?”, your best friend asked Calum.

Oh my god, were they serious? You totally knew where they were getting at. But hopefully Calum didn’t understand that, or anyone else for that matter. You were safe, Calum would definitely pick Michael and Crystal. Or Ashton and your best friend. 

“Well, the obvious choice would be Brandy and me. Or Michael and Crystal, but…I feel I want to stir the pot, I guess.. So… I think Luke and Y/N… I mean we saw the kiss Luke and Y/N had earlier”, Calum smirked devilishly at Luke, and then at you. The group around you chuckled, and seemed to agree with Calum as they were nodding their heads. But not you nor Luke. 

“Okayyyy, so maybe Cal should stop drinking for tonight”, you chuckled, and Calum gave you a humorous smile, which screamed a polite fuck you, in return. You saw Luke looking down at his drink on the floor with a drunken smile on his face. He fiddled with his rings on his left hand. He looked up and directly at you, boring his eyes into yours for a milli-second. You wondered what was going through his head, since yours was filled with so many questions. 

Why didn’t he say anything? Why was he so quiet? Did he find your kiss icky? Did he find you… repulsive? Why was he acting so strange? 

—❦

The party was over and people had left Luke’s apartment, which was now littered with red cups, beer bottles and pizza boxes. You had been settling into a spare bedroom in Luke’s house. Ashton, Calum, Brandy, Michael, Crystal and your best friend were staying over as well. 

You drank water alone in Luke’s kitchen, since everyone had already gone to sleep. The now quiet atmosphere made you feel at peace, and you smiled to yourself.

You enjoyed the brief moment of silence until a head of blonde messy curls appeared from the doorway.

Luke walked into the kitchen and gave you a tired little smile. He opened the refrigerator door and took a large water bottle, pouring it into a glass he retrieved from the cabinet. He placed the bottle back to the refrigerator and closed the refrigerator door as you were still drinking your own water.

You noticed how he had gotten rid of the jacket and the tie, leaving him with a slightly unbuttoned white collar shirt and dark gray pants. He had also wiped the lightning bolt off his forehead.

Standing here with Luke, in this terrifyingly awkward yet weirdly comforting silence, made you question your lust towards the man. Maybe it was just the alcohol running through your veins. That might just be the only logical explanation.

“Let me guess, you don’t want to get a hangover?”, you chose to break the silence.

“Hell no”, he sipped water, “did you have fun tonight?”. The blonde locked his eyes with yours and you looked away, your eyes now fixating on your ring-covered fingers.

You cleared your throat, and answered, “Yep, had a blast. And you?”. 

“Yeah”, he smiled and you went closer to him, as you were about to place the cup in the sink. Your hands brushed against his as he was just about to do the same. You both placed your cups in the sink, and your eyes met his. You both stood in your places quietly, and for some weird reason, you couldn't help but look at his parted lips. And you noticed him doing the same, then his eyes studying yours.

Your heart started to race a million miles an hour. You weren’t nervous around the people you fancied, but Luke was a different story. He was the epitome of gorgeous, so you couldn’t really blame yourself, could you?

He turned his body towards yours, and you took a step closer to him. You didn’t know what you were doing. Hell, you didn’t know what he was doing either.

Luke let out a low chuckle and you couldn’t help but bite your lower lip. 

Yes, even a fool could tell you wanted to kiss him. But you weren’t sure if you should. And you weren’t sure if the man in front of you noticed that too. 

Thankfully Luke had noticed your indecisiveness as he leant in for a kiss. You had imagined this after the kiss during the game, but now that it was actually happening, you couldn’t believe it. This was rougher than the last time. More passionate. More demanding. He moved even closer to you, placing his hands on the sides of your face. You felt his cold rings against your bare skin, but it didn’t matter. Not when he touched you like this, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks and his tongue battling for dominance over yours.

He backed away from you, licking his lips.

“Fuck… I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry”, he apologized and rested his body against the kitchen counter.

“What do you mean?”, you frowned your eyebrows. Was he being serious right now?

“It’d mess things up…if we go further. Shit, this on its own could make everything awkward...”

“What if…what if we just don’t think about the consequences? You want me, and I obviously want you”, you suggested. You didn’t want to think, not now. You didn’t want your growing lust for Luke to go to waste. It would be a shame if it did.

“Are you..sure?”, he scratched the back of his head.

“Yes”

“Okay”, he let out a low chuckle and took a step closer to you, studying your lips in the meantime. 

“Luke?”, you looked into his eyes as you spoke.

“Yeah?”, he bored his blue eyes into yours, and placed his hands on your waist, tugging you closer to him.

“Just fuckin’ kiss me already”

“Thought you’d never ask”, he whispered, his voice perfectly husky and seducing. His plump lips found their place on yours and you swore you had never kissed someone like him before. His lips moved swiftly, hungrily against yours.

You tugged his shirt, wanting to get rid of it as soon as possible. 

“Luke?”, you asked, out of breath.

“Yeah?”, he wiped his mouth with his hand, and you couldn’t help but stare at the man’s mouth. The mouth that you wanted to do incredible things to you.

“What are we doing?”.

“What do you want to do princess?”, his voice was heavy, and hoarse. And so god-damn sexy. He moved a few stray hairs out of your face.

“Fuck…”, you cursed.

“...me?”, Luke smirked.

You were totally gone off the rails, so whipped for him, there was no going back now.

“Actually, yeah”, you decided to toss logic aside, and once again, Luke placed his lips hungrily on yours. You kissed him back passionately and he grabbed your ass under your skirt. You wrapped your hands around his neck, and felt the need to do such things to Luke you could never say out loud. 

“Jump”, he groaned between the rough yet lustful kisses and you jumped into his lap. He grabbed you by your outer thighs and placed you on the counter. He left wet kisses on your neck, leaving you wondering why you hadn’t done this sooner with him. Maybe it was the fact you had known this man for years, and he had never shown you any sign of interest. But it didn’t matter now, he clearly wanted you.

“Is this okay?”, he reassured you.

“You’re perfect”, you sighed and stared at the beautiful man in front of you. Yes, you had always thought Luke was hot, but this was something else. You loved how soft and assertive he was at the same time. This was dangerous, anyone could see you two. But you liked it this way. You didn’t want to think, you just wanted him. You craved him. You needed him.

His lips found their way back to yours and you bit his lower lip by accident. You felt Luke giggling against your lips, and you couldn’t help but do the same. 

“Can I take this off?”, he asked between the kisses as he was holding the fabric on your shirt. “Please”. And he does, leaving your chest area covered by your black bra. You started to unbutton his shirt and when you were done, he threw the white collar shirt on the floor next to yours. 

Luke traveled kisses from the side of your face to your neck, then to your chest. “Fuck, you’re so hot”, he remarked and you chuckled slightly as a response. Luke kissed you, and you kissed him, sliding your tongue into his mouth. You made out for a while until he decided to move the strap of your bra over your shoulder. He placed a few kisses on your shoulder, and you didn’t understand how he did it all this, being this fucking good at everything, but you enjoyed the show. 

“Need to get my fishnets off”, you whimpered under his touch. 

He ripped open your fishnets using his hands, and you swore to yourself you hadn’t seen anything as hot as that. You lifted your body using your hands on the counter so he could take the remains of the stockings off. And when he was done, he nibbled your ear and his heavy breathing made you squirm. 

“Finger me?”, you asked as his lustful ocean eyes stared into yours. “It’d be my pleasure”, he smirked, pushing your lingerie to the side and pushing two fingers into you with the perfect amount of pressure.

“Fuck, you are so wet…so good, Y/N”, he remarked huskily and moved his fingers inside you in swift motion. You widened your legs so he’d get a better entrance. “Mmmmh”, you whimpered, your head tilted back and eyes closed. Luke trailed down kisses from your neck to your chest. You opened your eyes and his lips crashed into yours. 

“Need you to fuck me, Luke”, you whispered into his mouth. “Believe me, I will. Just wanna make you cum first”, he whispered and kissed you. And in under a minute, you were a whimpering mess under his touch, him giving you a smug look. You swore you just saw the stars, no one had ever known your body like him. And it didn’t make any sense, this was the first time being with him. But it didn’t have to make sense, you were now with him and god, he made you feel incredibly good. 

His fingers left your entrance and his lustful dark eyes met yours again. He brought his fingers into his mouth and sucked on them, still holding the eye contact.

”Baby, you taste so good... Fuckin’ incredible”, he mumbled.

”Fuck…”, you whimpered as you were still coming off your high and watching Luke taste you did not help to urge to feel him inside of you. Neither did the fact that you noticed his boner through his dark dress pants. What was this man doing to you?

“Wanna go to my bedroom?”, he suggested, and placed a strand of your hair behind your ear, giving you a small lingering kiss on your collarbone.

“Thought you’d never ask”.

You both grabbed your clothes from the floor and you went upstairs. In the upstairs hallway, Luke couldn’t resist but pin you against the wall, kissing your face like he had never kissed before. You grabbed his erected dick under his dress pants and stroked it slightly above the material, making Luke whimper. “Y/N…”, he started yet couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Mmmh? Tell me?”, you asked as you started to unbuckle his belt.

“Mmmmh, don’t tease me, Y/N”

“That’s bold of you since you started it...”, you pointed out.

“Mmmhhh…fuck, that’s true. Let’s go before I fuck you against this wall and everyone will hear it”, he gave you a quick peck on your lips, leaving you wanting for more. You didn't know Luke could be this smug, but it definitely turned you on.

Luke led you to his bedroom. You placed yourself on his California King, and looked around. You had never been in Luke’s bedroom. A few paintings hung on the dark -painted walls, a vintage record player rested on the dressing table and the TV across the bed covered most of the wall space.

Luke retrieved a condom from his wallet, which was resting on his night-stand and pulled down both his pants and boxers, revealing his hardened dick. In the meanwhile you got rid of your skirt, and underwear. He placed the condom on and you couldn't help but admire the sight in front of you. Luke tossed both his pants and boxers off to the floor. He placed his body on top of you, kissing you and making the kiss deeper as you slid your tongue into his mouth. Your tongues danced together and your anticipation for the following grew, even though you had gone through your high already. But maybe, just maybe, he could make you come twice. His lips parted from yours, and he looked into your eyes, his fingers traveling along your lips.

“You’re so damn beautiful”. 

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful too”, you answered, your need for him growing.

“You ready?”.  You nodded and he slipped into you slowly as you kissed his neck. You detached your lips from his neck and tugged his hair, your hands exploring the softness of his curls. A few moans escaped from both of your mouths. How could he make moaning sound so damn good? 

“Please keep on going”.

"Was planning on doing so, princess".

He thrusted into you, and your walls clenched against him. You saw him biting his lip, his eyes wide open, clearly enjoying the view of you. “Fuck, you are perfect. So tight around me.... So good”, he praised.

This would probably never happen again, so you decided to make the most of it.

You met his lips in a kiss and you slipped your tongue into his mouth, his own meeting with yours. His thrusts became quicker and you both moaned of pleasure. Your hands had moved to his upper back, your nails scratching the warm skin.

And when you both came undone, you cleaned yourselves up and laid in his bed. You both stared at the bedroom ceiling. Luke had asked you to stay, which had surprised you. 

“I held myself back when you kissed me in the game”, the blonde confessed. You looked at Luke, whose left arm was leaning against the back of his head. Only now you noticed his bird tattoo on his bicep. You couldn’t see it properly in the dim lightning, but you were guessing it was a hummingbird. To be honest, there probably were a lot of things you didn’t know about him.

“Did you?”, you asked in a rather suggestive voice, and turned your body towards him under the covers.

“Well, yeah, have you seen yourself? Fuckin’ beautiful. I wanted to rip those fishnets off you the moment I saw you in them”, he chuckled and his eyes met yours.

You couldn’t help but feel flustered. Luke Hemmings, of all the people in the world, thought you were…beautiful?

“In that case, I’m happy I decided to wear them”, you giggled.

“I can buy you a new pair of fishnets”, he offered.

“You really don’t need to do that”.

“If that gives me an excuse to see you, then I’d like to”, you saw an endearing smile appear on his face.

“What if you break them too?”, you chuckled, not that you wouldn’t mind him doing that.

“Then I’d have another excuse to see you again”, he reasoned, and shuffled closer to you. You didn’t know if it was still the alcohol clouding your judgement, but you liked him. Maybe a bit more than you wanted to. 

“Seems like you want it to be a pattern”, you suggested.

“Well, if it makes you scream like earlier…”, he smirked and took you in his arms, your face squished against his warm and toned chest. “Luke!”, you screamed into his chest.

“Hush hush now, everyone is asleep”, he kissed the top of your head, and chuckled.

“Sorry”, you giggled and wrapped your hand around his waist, snuggling closer to him. Your face rested against his chest, and he stroked your hair gently.

"Good night beautiful", he reached for your lips and planted a small kiss on them, then turning off the bedside lamp. "Good night, Luke".

—❦

“Quit starin’ at me princess”, Luke spoke with his eyes closed as you lied with him in his enormous California King bed. 

“I can’t, you’re way too pretty”, you played with his curls, both of your naked bodies under the same duvet.

You had been awake for a while now, mainly going over the memories of last night. Luke’s lips pressed against yours, his hands grabbing the sides of your body, him whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he was inside of you.  You had contemplated leaving Luke’s house, but you didn’t want to do it to Luke. And the change in Luke’s behavior towards you made you question his motives. He even let you sleep in his bed, and didn’t want you to leave to your room. Did he actually like your company? Or was he just lonely?

You removed your hand from his set of curls, and wondered what it must be like to be that beautiful. It was unfair how good-looking he was.

“Talk to me about pretty, huh?”, he opened up his eyes and scanned your face. “Hush”, you gave him a deadly glare and he grinned back at you.

“Tell me when did you get so freaking hot?”, you asked him.

“Haven’t I always been?”, he winked and readjusted the pillows on the bed, his face and body now towards yours. 

“Yeah, but I mean…like this hot. Ridiculously hot. So hot I want to jump into your lap”

“Now you’re just makin’ a fool out of me”

“Am not! I promise”, you exclaimed. “I swear when I saw you last night, something happened inside of me. This lust, I guess…I don’t know what the hell it was”

“Well, thank you. Good to hear I don’t look like an absolute knobhead”, he rolled his eyes, and letting out a chuckle.

“And he’s funny too”, you giggled.

“C’mere”, he motioned you into his embrace and you laid there for a moment in silence, taking in the moment. This silence felt comfortable in some odd way. His fingers brushed gently against yours, moving to cup your face, his mouth telling you compliments you never expected to come from his mouth. You’re gorgeous. Your eyes are pretty as hell. I like cuddling you. You smiled back at him, not really knowing what to answer.

“So this wasn’t a one time thing?”, you decided to break the newly founded silence.

“Nope. If that’s okay with you?”, Luke searched for your approval from your softened eyes, and you gave him that. “More than okay”, you smiled. You looked for something in his eyes. Maybe a hidden truth. You were his friend, but you didn’t know him truly. You did not really have an idea who he was deep in his core. But your instinct told you to find out.

"Good. Did you actually like my Halloween costume or were you just being polite?", Luke hummed, and placed his head into the crook of your neck.

"I thought you looked hot. And so dreamy... So yes Luke, I liked it", you beamed, and pecked his lips. "A lot", you added and caressed his pretty curly hair.

"You were a pretty dreamy Ginny yourself", he placed his mouth on your neck, sucking on the skin slightly, then placing a few sloppy kisses on your jawline. His breath started to become noticeably heavier, and you giggled, "Luke Hemmings, you are one hell of a guy".

After a while of lounging around with Luke, you both decided to do your morning rituals and throw some clothes on. Yeah, you might have hooked up with him again, only in the shower this time, and you felt as if you couldn't keep your hands off the blonde.

You and Luke had decided to go downstairs and cook something for breakfast, and now you waited for him to come out of the bathroom. Luke opened up the bathroom door attached to his bedroom, and you studied his features.

You couldn’t help but smile as he was humming some song you had never even heard of. He had a habit of doing that, making you smile. Or at least that was what he had been doing the past hours. And last night, obviously. He was dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants, which made you drool over him, and a black AC/DC t-shirt. He had also offered you an oversized band t-shirt to wear since your own shirt was a bit uncomfortable to wear. So now you were standing in front of Luke, wearing his oversized t-shirt and barely visible black skirt. You would have never guessed that something like this could actually happen.

“Ready?”, he asked, and you nodded. You were waiting for him to open the door, until he decided to turn around and he grabbed your face into his hands. He pressed a delicate and endearing kiss on your lips.

“Actually, now we’re ready”, he chuckled and finally opened the door. “You dork”, you giggled, the taste of his toothpaste lingering on your lips.

“No one should be up, it’s barely 9am”, Luke commented as you were walking down the stairs. “Yeah, there’s not a chance anyone’s up yet”, you agreed with him and you both walked into the kitchen, only to discover every single person that had stayed at Luke's sitting by the kitchen table. 

“Good morning, Luke and Y/N”, Crystal greeted you two, to which both you and Luke responded.

Luke offered you a glass of water with a side of lemon and ice, after he had convinced you of how the drink makes a great hangover cure. You and Luke found yourself seats by the kitchen table, next to each other since they were the only ones not taken.

"Luke? Y/N?" Ashton opened his mouth.

“We fuckin’ heard you last night”,  Ashton remarked as both you and Luke were caught up in your own worlds. And then you made sense of what Ashton had just said.

...Oh my god, had they really heard all…that? 

Your best friend was sitting next to Ashton, and they were giggling with Ashton’s arm resting behind their chair.

You hadn’t talked this through with Luke. Shit, shit, shit. You hadn’t really even thought about if anyone had heard you last night.

“Oh you are speechless now, is that it?” Ashton giggled, making your friend, Michael, Crystal, Calum and Brandy laugh too.

“We really hope you Luke cleaned up the kitchen afterwards”, Crystal commented. “Just saying”, she added and gave a quick peck to Michael. Michael chuckled, and took turns looking at you, and then Luke.

“I did, don’t you worry about it Crys”, Luke scratched the back of his head, obviously feeling awkward as hell. You cleared your throat, wishing to be anywhere else than being questioned about your little rendezvous with Luke last night.

“And you used a condom?” Ashton asked, making Luke groan. “Of course, you fuckin’ moron”.

“Okaaaay, should we change the subject? Us having sex isn’t the most exciting topic”, you chuckled nervously, avoiding eye contact with everyone. Even the handsome blonde beside you.

“It definitely did sound exciting last night…All the screams and objects fallin’ to the floor, all Y/N’s whimpers and Luke’s -”, Ashton remarked, but was soon interrupted by an annoyed Luke.

“Okay okay, we get it. We were a bit loud. But let’s move on, please”, Luke groaned. 

"I want to hear more details though... Were the kitchen and Luke's bedroom the only places you had sex in?", your best friend took apart in the conversation, grinning from ear to ear. Y/B/F/N had to be kidding. And were the walls of Luke's house made of paper? "Yes", you answered in turn, trying to sound as convincing as you could. They didn't need to know about the shower session an hour ago.

”It was no wonder you ended up sleeping together, I mean you were drooling over each other the whole night”, Michael continued, and chuckled.

”You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me right now”, Luke cursed, obviously wanting the conversation topic to change sooner than later.

“Calm down, Hemmings”, Calum chuckled, earning a side eye from you and a deadly glare from Luke. “Okay, okay, I won’t say anythin’ next time”, Calum put his hands up in defense and grinned awkwardly. 

You looked at Luke only to discover him looking at you, a small smile creeping upon his pretty pink lips. Next time.

a/n: hey please do share your thoughts on the gifs, did they disturb your reading experience? i’d love to know, ty! 🤍

© 2023 bloodhoundluke.

#luke hemmings fluff #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings smut #luke hemmings x you #5sos fluff #5sos smut #5sos imagine #5sos fanfic #my writing #5sos x reader #5sos x y/n

[henbeaka]

BYLER and SUBSTITUTING

like this:

Because, I mean, without you, we'd all fall apart. Even me. Especially me. These past few months, I've been so lost without you. It's just, I'm so different from other people, and……when you're…when you're different, sometimes……I feel like a mistake. But you make me feel like I'm not a mistake at all.

which is the most OBVIOUS substitution in byler history because it is clear the audience is meant to pick up on it. it's not subtle. but-- mike does this too.

“It's not my fault I don't like girls. I'm not trying to be a jerk. Okay? But we're not kids anymore. I mean, what did I think, really? That we were never gonna get girlfriends? We were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives?”

the difference is mike is projecting onto will rather than a side speaker. and you might think this isn't supposed to be used as a substitution for himself. but will is not the odd one out here. dustin wanted to play games and he had a girlfriend. like, logically, its two v two because they knew dustin would also want to play dnd. (and i'm not assuming, they say it in the fight.)

another important line here: we're not kids anymore.

okay, michael wheeler, let's look at byler speeches from when you guys were kids.

Do you remember the first day that we met? It was... It was the first day of kindergarten. I knew nobody. I had no friends and... I just felt so alone and so scared, but... I saw you on the swings and you were alone, too. You were just swinging by yourself. And I just walked up to you and... I asked. I asked if you wanted to be my friend. And you said yes. You said yes. It was the best thing I've ever done.

nothing's in red. nothing's crossed out or changed. because mike said exactly what he meant here (hoorah!). back when they were kids when they could actually tell each other their emotions and feelings because it didn't have to masquerade a romantic love. that love was normal to them until it was ostracized through internalized and externalized homophobia.

and what is stranger things at its heart??

a sci-fi show with villains and superpowers and lore YES BUT BEYOND THAT AND INTO THE CHARACTER ARCS

it's a show about kids growing up (and also jopper).

so? so, the change in their substitution says a lot. it says how hard they are hiding their feelings from each other, how it increases as they get older. which leads us back to their true feelings, aka season 2 ish, where they were pretty openly in love, in my opinion. holding hands, comforting each other, making freaking love confessions as seen above.

and juxtapose that with season 4, with all its red and changes in meaning?? we as viewers should understand that nothing the boys say is what they mean. they are hiding!!!

aka byler endgame

#byler #stranger things #authors note #when mike says that its his fault he doesn't like girls #i dont mean that #i mean that thats what he thinks #that is the highest form of his truth or what he thinks is the truth

[muzzleroars]

I love the personalization you give V2 in your most recent comic, I’m reminded of Plato’s Socrates, they’re one step ahead of Michael’s arguments, picking them apart and shaking up expectations (and being a bit of a troll to boot), but from that I also get the feeling that these are questions V2’s already asked itself.

It’s a thinker, an asker, programmed and taught with human intelligence and curiosity, and in a world mostly bereft of people thinking and asking questions like them I bet it’d turn that curiosity inwards.

I also bet that V2’s very appreciative of having someone to bounce questions off of, someone of a different mindset and origins to provide differing lines of thought and alternative viewpoints. Argument need not be a negative experience, after all.

I’m betting a lot of things, they’re just stuck in my head now and I can’t help but think about how this snarky warrior-poet would contemplate its life. So perfectly human but also so perfectly inhuman, detached and attached to how we think.

I think I sent a rant about how much I love the way you write and draw a while back, I can tell you put so much thought and effort into your work, and I want to reiterate that, I ADORE the work you put in, it shows and it shines so brightly. Thank you for posting it.

(see this!)

WAAAUUUGHHH THANK YOU,,,,i've been wanting to do a lot of little character interaction comics, and with settling on a simpler style to get them done, i'll definitely have a few more i'll make!!

but that is a lot of what i think about v2 as a character - it's very different from the machines that surround it and didn't find any that could understand its curious, inquiring mind, so it had a lot of conversations with itself. it got to know gabriel, which was its first true conversational partner ever since humans got wiped out, but michael is a much different experience for it. while gabriel is great to talk with since he's gregarious and charming, michael is introverted and, for a warrior angel, a rather deep thinker with obvious existential questions weighing on his mind. yet those thoughts aren't allowed to go anywhere because mike needs to constantly keep himself "on track" and answer himself with what his faith dictates. v2, as a rather free thinker, just goes where logic leads it and accepts that as the truth. sure, it knows here that it's poking at mike by pointing out the similarities (it really can't help being a LITTLE annoying lol), but it also views mike as someone with a deep but narrow mind. he has so much potential, v2 KNOWS he's a lot like it in many ways, he just refuses to get out of the comfort zone of his rigid dogma. so it does something small here. because v2 sees this all differently - its name is perfectly unique, as it is the only one that is the second of the v-series, the same way mike's name is unique as he is a warrior of god named for his own battle cry. it knows he won't agree, he'll argue the differences in his talking points, but all v2 ever wants is for mike to think. he has a mind starved for it and wanting it, but no one could challenge him in any previous connection he had. he is the prince of heaven, always so right and always so intimidating, but v2 can start cracking away at him little by little...and it's exactly what both of them have wanted. they begin having healthy arguments, and i think their relationship is always marked by debating one another. it gives v2 the conversations it's always wanted and it gives mike more and more room to breathe in a philosophical mind that had always been so smothered.

#i really REALLY love the comparison of their relationship to that of gabe and v1 #gabe needed the outlet of violence and physicality that he has never allowed #v1 needed someone that could understand its inherent drive for that violence #while mike and v2 has been starved of any deeper thinking or philosophy because they're not meant for that #and the idea that both of these things are good. people have different needs #and it's just about finding the person that fits with you!!! #cake answers #v2 #michael #rise and fall au

[wroteitbutneverwatchedit]

Can you do Michael Langdon x reader where there is a thunderstorm and they both “do it”

Storm.

Michael Langdon X F!reader

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: smut, pet names, oral (f and m receiving), p in v sex, cream pie, cussing, idk if there is anything else.

A/n: hope you enjoy this, let me know if you want a part two. Sorry it took so long I was on a writing break for a while.😌 please like, and reblog. Please THIS IS NOT NO FREE USE YOU CANNOT PLAGIARIZE OR REPOST MY WORK ON THIRD PARTY SITES

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

Michael and I were walking through the grocery as we would usually do once a week. But today Michael couldn’t keep his hands off of me, which made it hard to do things. The store was practically empty except for a few other people doing some shopping. This made it all the easier for Michael to hide the small kisses he would leave lightly on my neck, cheeks, and face. His hands all the while stayed in my waist as I pushed the cart, it was getting to be a little much as we were now circling the same section for the fourth time. I kept gently moving away from him to keep myself on track but he wouldn’t stop. We hadn’t had the chance to have any alone time in about a week and a half as we were both busy with work. Michael’s patience has seems to be stretched thin as he continued to kiss my shoulder. I pulled away from him once again and turned around before he could grab onto my waist.

“Michael, please we’re in the market. When we get home we can relax but I want to get some food before the thunderstorm comes into full effect.” I pleaded with him, I don’t think a word I said got past his ears as his eyes raked over my body and back up to meet mine. I sighed and started to walk away, he was quick to follow me and place his hands back on my hips. I stopped once again and turned around to face him. I placed my hands on his shoulders pushing him back a little bit before speaking.

“Darling, the faster we pick up our groceries. The faster we get home and to bed, the longer you keep me circling the same section the longer it takes to get me naked and on top of you.” I said with a pleasant smile, that seemed to get through to him as he was now leading me through the store and picking up the groceries. It shouldn’t surprise me how fast he was but it did. He finished picking up everything on the list while I was standing in the ice cream section still deciding what flavor I wanted. He circled back for me, almost sweeping me off my feet until I yelped.

“All the groceries are in the cart ready for check out. Now let’s get out of here.” He said with a smirk on his face, I slide out of his grip and stood there still deciding on what ice cream to get. I had been successfully standing there for four minutes before he got annoyed and started to become antsy.

“Let’s buy all the flavors, I can lick it off of you.” He pleaded, I rolled my eyes and continued to stare at the ice creams.

“No,” I said, I wanted to try something new but I was having a tough time deciding what it should be. Until Michael took one out of the fridge and put it in my hands I read the description of the ice cream and it seemed like it would taste good. I put it in the cart and Michael seemed relieved that I agreed. Though he was the AntiChrist, he would and could never go against me. He was powerful but I was stronger, though he would never truly know my full power. He know that I was an angel, literally sent from heaven. He knew even before he married me and he still could bring himself to leave me.

“Michael let’s get some pastries, they’d go great with the ice cream” I suggested already walking away from him. He was quick to pull me back and point out the box of treats in the cart that he already picked up.

“Oh darling, I’ve already picked them out for you. Now let’s check out” he said, he was very eager to get home but I wasn’t all that interested in that right now as I was surrounded by food. I dipped out of his grip and started walking to the fruits. Michael was growing more and more annoyed by the minute as I walked through the aisle checking each and every fruit thoroughly before putting them in a bag. Michael wasn’t one to slouch, always having a perfect posture, but he was annoyed, horny, and stuck in his work suit. He didn’t have much room to breathe in all the right places. Although me wearing my work clothes didn’t help alleviate any of his stress. My outfit consisted of a white button-up body con dress that stopped at the middle of my thigh. Along with some heeled boots, the outfit was having its debut and I knew Michael wanted to just rip it off of me already.

“Sweetheart, please we can come back tomorrow or Sunday. Let’s go check out” he pleaded almost begging, I paid no attention to him as I was picking out the perfect mango. I continued walking down the aisle completely disregarding his presence when he came up behind me and pulled me away towards the checkout. I pouted as he put all the groceries on the counter for the cashier, I bagged our stuff before putting it in the cart. Michael paid for everything before placing his hands on my hips and guiding me out of the store. It was pouring outside and I was wearing an all-white dress. I was going to try to run to the car but Michael made the walk slower as he gladly watched me get completely soaked. I quickly put all the stuff in the car and got in. Michael started the car and quickly peeled out of the parking lot to get home as fast as he could.

“So what are we thinking for dinner?” I asked him, his eyes quickly raking over me before turning back to the road.

“I’m not really into food right now” he cooed, I brushed his answer off.

“So I was thinking, maybe you could cook me that shrimp pasta again? It was delicious last time, I don’t know what you put in it but I’ve just been craving it for a while now” I said smiling at him, he smiled genuinely and for a second he looked not like he wanted to eat me.

“Okay I’ll make you a deal, we can cook it together but you have to let me do as I please while we cook” he offered, I thought for a minute and nodded. He seemed pleased that I accepted his offer, once we got home he stopped him in the driveway. I got out and walked around to help with the bags, he took a majority of them as I opened the front door.

“I’ll put the stuff away, you take off those wet clothes and put on an apron.” He said smiling, I took off my shoes before walking upstairs to our bathroom and peeling the wet dress off my skin. I took off everything that I had on, I could hear the storm starting to boom outside. I pulled out a simple lingerie set from my drawer that I had gotten to surprise Michael but before I could put it on, the door swung open to our bedroom to reveal Michael in all his glory. He looked pleased with my state of undress, he had already started to take off his clothes but seeing me seemed to make him go faster.

“Darling, you look gorgeous.” He complimented me and pulled off the last of his clothes before wrapping his arms around me.

“Michael, can I be in control tonight? I just want to try something different” I asked him with my best puppy dog eyes. He could never say no to those eyes so he nods before sitting on the bed.

“Lay down for me my love, and close your eyes” I instructed gently, he did as told and I quickly handcuffed him to the bed frame. He opened his eyes and tried pulling his hands free at once.

“Beautiful what is this?” He questioned

“Don’t you like it? I made them myself, they are made so that you can’t break out of them until I let you out” I beamed, he started to try and pull at the cuffs even harder. While he was distracted I took my time and licked up the base of his dick and swirled around the tip. He ceased all movement and looked down at me, I put the tip in my mouth and slowly attempted to take as much as I could until I could feel him hit the back of my throat. I gagged and he let out a whimper-like moan, I looked up at him as he had his head thrown back. I pulled away to breathe for a second using my hands to pleasure him at a steady pace.

“Is it too much for you angel?” He teased, I looked up at him and scoffed.

“If you don’t shut up I’ll find something to occupy your mouth” I warned, he seemed amused.

“Do it then, I’d hate for you to have to do all the work and get nothing in return.” He chided, Michael was a lover of face-sitting. He believed his face was my throne, so I gave him what he wanted. I gently placed myself on top of his face, he immediately got to work. I leaned my body down so I could go back to giving him head. I focused my mouth on the tip as my hands worked on his balls and the base. He was using his tongue to work my clit, lapping and swirling around. He was already pushing me closer and closer to the edge making it hard for me to even work on him. I pulled away from him and completely got off of him.

“You were so close let me just finish the job” he demanded pulling at the cuffs with more power this time. I straddled his waist, with his dick up against my clit. Michael liked to take charge and he was having a very hard time getting used to me being in control.

“Michael I got it, just enjoy it” I assured him, and that only made him try to break free even more. I started to grind against his dick, if I even leaned back just a little bit too far he would be poking my hole. He was getting impatient, his hips thrusting up ever so slightly as to get in.

“My angel, please just let me in.” He practically begged, I sighed and lined him up with myself before slowly taking all of him. I let out a sweet moan and laid on top of him kissing his neck up to his lip. I could taste myself on him but it was heavenly, his hips went to work thrusting into me. He was still pulling at the handcuffs when I heard the sound of wood breaking, in a quick second I felt his hands slap down on my ass and hold me down as he started to use more power to thrust into me. I tried to get off of him but the handcuffs were still on him and now holding me down against him.

“Wait, baby-“ I pleaded, he smiled and he start to fuck me senselessly.

“Awe, gorgeous let’s pick things up to speed,” he said, I wrapped my arms around his neck. I couldn’t think anymore, I could feel that familiar knot in my stomach, and he started to slow down. He kept a moderate pace making sure to bottom out with every thrust.

“Come on princess take these cuffs off, let me make you feel good.” He whispered in my ear, I had tears running down my face at this point. My senses were overwhelmed and it was like I had been brought back to the gates of heaven but not able to in yet.

“Regno e Gloria. ( kingdom and glory)” I said softly and the handcuffs unlocked with a clink. He smiled and now held my hips properly. He stood up and laid me on my back, he started to fuck me in missionary position and rub my clit as my orgasm ripped through my body. I screamed as the loudest strike of thunder ripped through the sky. All the muscles in my body tightened before I felt weak. Michael moaned as he came inside me, he kissed me sweetly. He pulled out and continued to rub my clit prolonging my orgasm. I pushed his hand away weakly as I tried to move away.

“Okay gorgeous, I’ll get dinner started you get some rest.” He said, he picked me up and carried me to the bathroom. He started up the water for a bath, putting me down in the tub.

#writers on tumblr #fanfic #michael langdon x reader #ahs fanfiction #ahs smut #michael langdon #michael langdon x female reader #smut

[disturbedbydesign]

Special Girl - Part 1

Summary: You arrived at Harvard as a shy, nerdy girl. You never thought a guy like Lloyd Hansen would notice you. But Lloyd saw you—really saw you—and for a time you became his special girl. Now, years later, you're stuck in a sexless marriage. Unloved and unfucked for months, you've decided enough is enough. The fact that Lloyd has been keeping tabs on you for years has nothing to do with it... or does it?

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Chapter WC: 5.6K

Warnings: DUBCON (alcohol use/manipulation); INCREDIBLY unsafe/unhealthy/deadass wrong BDSM practices (Lloyd doesn't do safewords or aftercare); plus-sized reader/fatphobia; cheating; degradation; bondage, spanking/whipping, gagging; knife kink; blood kink; CNC roleplay; gunplay; rough oral (m receiving); explicit sex (O,V,A); unprotected sex (Lloyd doesn't wear condoms, ok?); unwanted pregnancies/abortion; physical intimidation/abuse; general toxicity; Lloyd is a psycho and he's fucking mean—Dead Dove Do Not Eat! 18+ only, no minors.

Series Masterlist

Part One

Every day feels the same, and that sameness is going to kill you soon. It’s been killing you slowly for years, but today it ends—one way or another. Six months, you’d told yourself. Six more months and you’re done.

You wake up next to the man you call your husband but he feels like a stranger to you. He grumbles as he throws the covers off and rips open the curtains, shoving his boxers down and kicking them into the corner instead of placing them in the hamper like you’d asked him more times than you can count. He showers with the door open, and the sight of his naked body makes you angry. He hasn’t fucked you in 5 months and 29 days, and you almost tell him, “Today’s your last chance, Michael,” but you don’t. You won’t beg for it. Not anymore. He has to want you.

Your 6-year-old son whines and struggles as you try to get him ready for school. Harrison hates school and he hates you for making him go there. You cook their breakfast and pack their lunches while they eat. When they’re done, you pour Dunkin breakfast blend into a crimson travel mug with the Harvard seal emblazoned on it, add just the right amount of 2% milk to turn it from black to caramel, and hand it to your husband. He thanks you with a kiss on the forehead—never the lips—and then leaves for his bright shiny law office in McLean.

You were going to be a lawyer once. You and Michael met at Harvard Law, and you both had the same idealistic dreams back then—you wanted to do immigration law, he wanted to work for the Innocence Project—but then you got pregnant and the smell of money wafting off the white-shoe firms was too tempting for Michael to pass up. You told yourself you’d go back to work once Harrison was older, that you wanted to be a hands-on mom for the first few years of his life, but you knew even then it was a lie you told yourself and everyone else. Seven years at Harvard, all that money and time and hard work, and for what? Washing skidmarked underwear and making PB&J with the crusts cut off.

What a fucking waste. You can hear it in his voice—that gleeful sneering tone that makes your blood run hot. So disappointing, Porkchop. So ordinary. So boring. I thought you wanted more than this. I thought you were special.

But Michael likes you at home. He likes a clean house and a hot meal and a child raised by its mother. He likes that your brain has atrophied in this endless cycle of cook-clean-chauffeur-shop, that you’re no longer smarter than him, that you rely on him for money even though you should be making six figures right now, too. He likes the big, beautiful house in the D.C. suburbs, the senators and lobbyist neighbors, the private schools and the fancy cars. He likes to answer for you when people at dinner parties and cocktail hours ask you what you do for a living: “Oh, she doesn’t work.”

You still don’t know what you did to make him hate you so much. (Actually, you do know, but Michael doesn’t.) It’s not even hate, though—it’s worse, it’s indifference. In some ways it’s so much crueler. At least with hatred, there’s some passion behind it. If you hate someone, it means a part of you still cares, still wants to love them—that maybe a part of you still does. You of all people would know.

You don’t hate Michael; you hate yourself for choosing this life with him—this boring, ordinary life—when you could have had something more. Maybe not what you wanted, who you wanted, but being hurt by him would have felt better than the endless parade of nothing you feel now. Did you ever love Michael? You think you must have at some point but you can’t remember why. Was it because he showed you that love didn’t have to hurt, that you could be more than someone’s dirty little secret? It’s been so long since you felt that way, though. Maybe it’s just another lie you tell yourself. 

You drive your son to school and he makes a scene at drop-off, begging you to take him back home. When Harrison is angry, which he is more and more lately, his ocean blue eyes turn stormy. That’s when you see it most clearly—when you see him—and you know the answer to the question you’ve refused to entertain for the last seven years. It wouldn’t matter anyway; he’d made that very clear the first time. You were only ever meant to be a secret indulgence, a toy he could take out of its hiding place and play with and throw away when it bored him. Besides, you know who he is now—what he does. There’s no room for you in his life, and certainly no room for Harrison.

And you’d be fine with that. You would, but he just won’t leave you alone.

You return home and you clean clean clean until everything sparkles and shines. You turn over endless piles of laundry. You pick up dry cleaning and drop off more. You eat a salad. You go to the gym and work it off. As your muscles burn and the sweat drips down your back, you force yourself to remember what it felt like to carry all that weight. Your body is screaming at you to stop but you keep going. Another pound or two, you think, and maybe my husband will touch me.

But that’s not why you work out—not really. You do it because you like the pain. You miss it. You haven’t felt that good pain in years but your body remembers it, remembers him.

Even when Michael was interested in fucking you, it was never what you wanted. There was no passion to it, nothing primal and animal that told you that he absolutely had to have you. Michael’s go-to move was poking you in the leg and saying, “Wanna do it?” and then engaging in bare-minimum foreplay before 15 minutes of missionary with the lights off. You could set a clock by it, but you told yourself it was ok because it was what you deserved. It was the punishment for your crimes, and living with it was your form of atonement. At least he made you cum sometimes.

But not like he did. Never like he did.

You shower at the gym and leave to pick up Harrison. It’s a Wednesday and he has Pee Wee football practice after school so you’re greeted with a smile instead of a scowl. Besides for pizza and superheroes, football is the only thing that makes your son truly happy, but for you it’s just hours and hours of practices and games and more laundry to do and the disapproving stares of the other mothers when Harrison breaks the no tackling rule. He’s big for his age already—tall and broad, built tough—and the rules of flag football mean nothing to him. One more hit, the coach had told you last week, and he’s out.

You sit at the far end of the bleachers, away from the other mothers and their death stares. They’ve all complained to the coach and you don’t blame them—if it was your son getting hurt instead of doing the hurting, you would feel the same way. You say a quick prayer to whatever god is listening that Harrison plays by the rules today and then you check your email on your phone. You’ve got a few Amazon shipping updates, a check-up reminder from Harrison’s dentist, and a message from the alumni association reminding you that the Harvard-Yale game is next weekend. You delete that one as aggressively as possible, and when you return to your inbox, there’s a new message.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think the sender was spam—just a nonsensical jumble of letters and numbers—but you’ve seen ones just like it many times before. The subject line is blank, and when you open it, there’s just two words: “Hey, Porkchop.” You look up and across the field and you see him standing in the parking lot, leaning against your car with his arms crossed. Your heart starts pounding when you make eye contact and it jumps into your throat when he gives you a cheeky little wave. 

You know he’s been watching you. His emails and texts over the years always made it clear that he’s keeping tabs. You never respond but they’ve been more frequent lately. Then six months ago he sent you a picture—-taken through the blinds in your bedroom—-of you and Michael having sex with a one-word message: “Boring.” Ever since you’ve felt his presence. Everywhere you go, you feel his eyes on you. He’s been telling you things he couldn’t possibly know if he wasn’t watching. He’s even started talking about Harrison—”Good looking kid,” he’d said in an email with a picture of Harrison at his first football practice attached. “Looking strong out there.”

You never thought he’d actually show up. You just assumed he’d been taunting you and teasing you and leading you on like he always did. But here he is in the flesh, wearing a black turtleneck and tight white pants and sporting a Tom Selleck mustache that should not be attractive but very much is. You grab your purse and hurry around the field to the lot, and as you approach him, he’s focused on the field, on Harrison.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Lloyd?” you whisper-shout at him when you’re close enough.

“Aww, come on, Porkchop.” He looks you up and down and flashes you that smug smile that haunts your dreams. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say. “I mean it.”

Lloyd takes you by the elbow and grips your arm hard, dragging you around to the back of your car with a few long strides. No one on the field can see you now, which should frighten you knowing what you know about the man in front of you. But you’re not afraid of him—-at least not like that. Lloyd likes to hurt you in other ways. 

“I can be wherever the fuck I want to be,” he snaps. “Besides, I thought you’d be happier to see me. You seem like you could use a little attention.” Lloyd removes his hand from your arm and runs it down your flank, grabbing at your hip and giving it a squeeze. “I gotta say, Porkchop, I liked you better with a little meat on your bones.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” You move to swat his hand away but he catches your wrist and you can’t help but look up into his piercing blue eyes—your son’s eyes. “Let go of me,” you whisper, but you don’t mean it. 

He chuckles and drops your wrist, running his hand across his chin. “Alright,” he says, “I’ll play nice.” He leans down close enough that you can feel the icy mint of his breath against your lips. “For now.”

“What do you want, Lloyd?”

“Today’s the day, right? D-Day? Last chance for ol’ Mikey to lay some pipe or you’re through?”

Your mouth drops open but only a tiny squeak comes out. How the fuck does he know that? The only person you told was your therapist.

“Oh, Porkchop. I know you’ve gone stupid on me since you had the kid, but when are you going to get it through your pretty little head that I know everything. I see everything. There isn’t a thing you can do or say or even think that I can’t find out about if I want to.”

“And why do you want to?” The words fly out before you can stop them. “Why the fuck do you even care, Lloyd? Why are you doing this to me?”

He cocks his head to the side and gives you a half smile that makes his dimple pop, and you see that little twinkle in his eyes that comes out to play when he’s feeling especially cruel.

“You know why.”

Lloyd grabs you by the throat and shoves you against the back of your SUV, kissing you so hard and deep that your legs threaten to give out. His thick mustache tickles your nostrils and it’s a new sensation. He was clean-shaven back at Harvard: one of the football team’s rules (and pretty much the only one Lloyd didn’t break). You moan into his mouth—-you can’t help it—-and the only thing holding you up is the hand around your neck and the weight of his broad, heavy body pressed against yours. You can feel him smirking against your lips after your moan slips out, and by the time he pulls away, you’ve soaked through your panties. You haven’t been kissed like that since your wedding day—the last time you saw him, when you did the thing you try so hard not to think about but always come back to when you’re alone in the tub with just enough time to rub one out in between supper and bathtime. The thing that changed everything and nothing at all.

“Here,” he says. “Take this.” He hands you a slip of paper with an address on it—some bougie D.C. neighborhood near Embassy Row. “I’ll be there Friday night and Saturday but Sunday morning I’m gone. No telling when I’ll be back. Do me a favor and make the right choice for once.” He grabs your face in his large hands and leans down to whisper, low and gravely, against your forehead. “Don’t disappoint me again.”

Before you have a chance to answer, a huge black Suburban with tinted windows pulls up and Lloyd hops in the passenger seat.

“See you soon, Porkchop,” he says, half hanging out the open window. “Tell the kid Daddy says hi.”

***

“Oh come on,” your roommate Shay begged. “It’ll be fun. I promise.”

You had zero desire to go to the Phoenix club party but it was Harvard-Yale weekend and the Crimson had absolutely slaughtered the Bulldogs that afternoon. Shay was dying to go and she’d been trying to drag you out for weeks.

“I won’t even get in,” you told her. “I’m just a freshman and I… I just won’t. It’ll be embarrassing.”

You didn’t tell her the real reason you didn’t want to go, which was that you packed on the freshman 15 and then some and you didn’t want to be the fat girl left out in the cold while your much thinner, much hotter roommate got into the party.

“Babe, they let all the girls in, and that goes double for freshmen.”

“And that’s supposed to make me want to go?” you replied. You knew the reputation that the finals club parties had on campus, and you knew it wasn’t the safest place for a drunk 18-year-old girl to be, especially on the night of The Game. “Those guys are so sketchy.”

“Yeah, but they have the best booze,” she said. “And we’ll watch out for each other. Come on, please?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes, but part of you couldn’t help but be curious about the legendary party scene at the clubs. And on Game Day? After a win? It was bound to be wild.

“Alright,” you agreed. “Just this once. But I’m not getting wasted. I’m considering this more of a sociological experiment.”

“Whatever gets you out the door, nerd,” she replied. “Now let’s find you something to wear that isn’t that ratty old hoodie and jeans.”

You were freezing cold and terribly uncomfortable in the dress and heels your roommate chose for you. The dress was stretchy enough to fit you but you didn’t consider it flattering. You told her as much but she assured you you looked great. 

“Your tits look incredible in that dress,” she insisted. “Seriously, I can’t look away.”

You took the compliment but you still felt exposed. You never wore tight clothes, preferring to hide your chub under layers of fabric or loose-fitting dresses. You’d always been a bigger girl but your first few months of college, even without being a heavy drinker, saw you tipping the scale much higher than ever before. The skin-tight green dress you were wearing was making you feel vulnerable and you could tell the discomfort was written all over your face. 

“It’ll be fine,” Shay promised you as you walked to the Phoenix.

You could hear the crowd two blocks away, so loud that the whooping and cheering and chanting of “Fuck Yale” could probably be heard all the way in New Haven, and when you rounded the corner onto Mt. Auburn, you saw the epic line.

“Holy shit,” you muttered, though the sound of the crowd drowned it out. 

The line to get in was around the block and then some, and it was almost all scantily clad girls, many of them freshmen you vaguely recognized. You saw the hot blonde from your psych class with a group of her equally hot friends at the front of the line being waved in by a guy at the door, and you saw him laugh in the faces of the two guys after them and send them on their way. 

“There’s no way we’re getting in. Let’s just go somewhere else,” you told Shay, but you were really more concerned that she would get in and you wouldn’t.

“We’re getting in,” she said, “and we’re not waiting on this fucking line either.”

Before you could argue, Shay was dragging you toward a girl about 10 people back in line.

“Hey, cousin!” Shay yelled, and she shoved her way into the line next to her cousin Maddie.

Maddie was a sophomore and had been hooking up with one of the Phoenix guys. You felt awful cutting the line, and the girls behind you were quite vocal about how pissed they were about it, but Maddie silenced them with a simple, “Hush, freshmen,” and before you knew it, you were standing at the door in front of the guy who held all the power. 

“Hey Mads,” he said. “See you brought some fresh meat.”

“This is my cousin and her roommate,” Maddie said. “Be nice”

The guy looked Shay up and down, clearly approving of her, but when he took a look at you, he started laughing. You almost ran away crying right then but you forced yourself to make eye contact and smile.

“Oh, Lloyd’s gonna love this one,” he said. “Entrez, mademoiselles. Down the rabbit hole you go.”

On your way down the stairs, you asked Maddie, “What was that supposed to mean? Who’s Lloyd?”

She just laughed. “Lloyd Hansen? The football player?”

“I’m not much of a sports fan,” you replied.

“Well he’s basically a god on the team, and he’s only a junior. But I’d stay away from him if I were you. He’s… well, I’ve heard some stories and none of them are good.”

You really did mean to heed her advice, you did, but two hours and several vodka cranberries later and you were drunker than you’d ever been in your life. You didn’t feel sick, just completely out of control, but you liked the feeling. You were always so buttoned up and guarded and it felt so fucking good to just let go for once. Shay stuck by your side as promised and the two of you danced and drank and danced and drank more.

You don’t know exactly when it happened—-you were out of it then and time has only muddled the memory further—-but at some point, you found yourself alone in the courtyard out back. You looked around for Shay but she was nowhere to be found. There was a group of guys nearby, and through the din and the ringing in your ears you could hear them laughing while one of them made oinking and squealing noises. You knew without knowing that they were laughing at you, and as you shoved your way through the crowd and back inside you heard one of them shout “Get ‘er done!”

It came on you suddenly—-that feeling that your bladder might burst. You needed to find a bathroom and quickly. You asked the person closest to you and she pointed in the direction of a huge line of girls.

“Fuck,” you shouted to no one, and then you felt a tap on your shoulder.

When you turned around, you were eye-level with the incredibly broad chest of one of the guys you’d seen outside.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he said, and you looked up into the prettiest blue eyes you’d ever seen, framed by long lashes that most women would kill for. “You lost?”

“I… uh… my friend is…” you stammered, having trouble finding words with this beautiful guy towering over you. “I… is there another bathroom here?”

“Upstairs,” he said. “Members only, but I’ll make an exception for you.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the stairs. “Come with me.”

The ground floor of the Phoenix looked like some sort of Gilded Age mansion, probably because that’s exactly what it was. Every inch of the place reeked of old money. You followed the handsome, brown-haired stranger up to the second-floor hallway and he opened a door into a large, well-appointed bedroom.

“Master bathroom’s right through there,” he said. “It’s the nicest one in the house.” He cocked his head to look at you. “You’re not gonna puke, are you?”

“No,” you said. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Good girl.”

It felt like ages before your bladder was finally empty. You used some expensive French lavender soap to wash your hands and dried them on a plush hand towel with the Phoenix insignia embroidered on it. When you exited the bathroom, the brunette was sitting on the four-poster bed sipping a honey-brown liquid from a crystal tumbler. His dress shirt was unbuttoned to his chest, his crimson tie hanging loose, and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow revealing thick, veiny forearms dusted with hair. You found yourself speechless and staring; he was gorgeous, tall and broad with a chiseled face and an athlete’s build. You had no idea what he was doing with you. 

“You want a drink, sweetheart?”

“I, uh, I shouldn’t,” you said. “I need to go find my friend.”

“Just one drink,” he said. “Come on. This whiskey is older than my dad. I promise you’ve never tasted anything like it.”

“I don’t really drink whiskey,” you replied, but he was already up, taking three long strides toward the bar cart in the corner.

The glass clinked three times as he dropped in ice cubes from a silver bucket, and you watched as he poured you three fingers of the liquid gold. You didn’t want it but you took it anyway. You didn’t even know him but some part of you—something deep-down and driven by primal instinct—didn’t want to disappoint him. The first sip burned like hell and you coughed after you swallowed.

“Easy, easy,” he said, rubbing your back with one of his large hands. He sat on the bed and patted the spot next to him.  “Come sit for a minute. Talk to me. I’m so fucking bored.”

You sat down next to him—close but not close enough to touch—and he watched as you pulled your skirt down where it was riding up. 

“So, uh, what’s your name?” you asked, braving another sip of the whiskey, which you had to admit was growing on you just as the heat in your belly was growing as you drank it.

“Uh, Lloyd Hansen?” he replied, sounding a bit miffed at the question. “You may have heard of me? I was the guy on the field today who knocked the Yale QB on his ass about a dozen times?”

You vaguely remembered hearing the name Lloyd Hansen but you didn’t remember where you’d heard it. You thought to yourself that it must have been someone talking about the game.

“Congratulations on the win,” you said. “I don’t really follow football but, you know, fuck Yale.”

That was the first time you heard Lloyd laugh, and he did it with his whole chest.

“Fuck Yale indeed,” he said. “And now that you know who I am, I want to know who you are and how you ended up at my party. I’ve never seen you around before. I would remember you.”

You told him your name, that you were a freshman and that you didn’t really go out much. You knew you sounded like a complete loser, but the alcohol was like a truth serum and you ended up telling him that you were more into studying than partying.

“So you really are a good girl, then?” he said, his hand inching closer to your thigh. The deep pitch of his voice was almost as intoxicating as the drink in your hand. “How refreshing.”

He placed his drink on the nightstand and moved closer to you.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked, and you nodded. “All the girls that come around here, they’re so fucking boring. So ordinary. Just a bunch of dumb bitches with rich and powerful parents who are only at Harvard to fuck around for four years and find a husband.” He ran his pointer finger down your thigh and toyed with the hem of your dress and you shivered as he leaned in close and spoke low in your ear. “But not you. You’re something special. I knew it the second I saw you.”

“I… I’m nobody,” you said. “I’m not special.”

His lips brushed the side of your neck and your eyes fluttered closed. “Yes,” he purred. “You are.”

Your memory gets hazy then. You remember Lloyd on top of you, kissing you and groping your tits through your dress. You don’t remember him taking it off you, or his clothes coming off, but you remember the feeling of your knees hitting the plush Persian rug as he pushed you down on the floor in front of him. He sat on the edge of the bed, long legs spread wide on either side of you as his fisted his cock in one hand and grabbed the back of your head with the other.

“You know how to suck a dick?” he asked, and you shook your head no.

You’d only ever given handjobs before and you’d never seen a dick as big or as thick as Lloyd’s. You were terrified. You didn’t know what you were doing and you didn’t really want to do it but, again, you couldn’t shake the feeling of not wanting to disappoint him. You didn’t want to be boring or ordinary. You wanted to be the girl he thought you were. You wanted to be special. 

“Open your mouth,” he demanded. “Stick your tongue all the way out.”

You did as he asked and he slapped your tongue with the head of his cock a few times before he told you to lick it. When you did, you tasted something salty—not exactly a bad taste, but strange.

“That’s it. That’s a good girl,” he said, gripping your head tighter. “Now wrap your lips around it. Yeah. Just like that. Fuck, I knew those dick-sucking lips of yours would feel good. Now open up your throat and breathe through your nose. I’m gonna fuck that pretty face of yours.”

He put his other hand on the back of your head and started to move you deeper onto his cock, and when he hit the back of your throat, you gagged and tried to pull away.

“Ah ah ah,” he said, “you can take it. Come on. Just relax.”

To this day, you don’t know how you didn’t throw up on him. He stood up and held your head in place as he fucked his way past your gag reflex and down into your throat over and over again, with fast harsh thrusts that had your mascara running rivers down your face and your own spit dripping down your chin onto your bare chest.

“That’s my good little cocksucker,” he said. “So fucking good for me. Look so pretty when you cry.”

Your nails dug into the hard muscle of his thighs as you let him use you, not knowing how long it was going to take or what exactly was supposed to happen. All you knew, looking up at him as he fucked your windpipe raw, was that he was the hottest guy you’d ever seen. The way his jaw clenched as he grunted, the deep V-cut that framed your face as he pushed and pulled you, the veins popping in his neck and his arms—-it was all too much. He was too much. The ache between your legs was getting unbearable and you took one of your hands off his leg and started to rub your clit.

“Oh, you love choking on my dick, huh? My pretty little slut’s gonna make herself cum with my fat cock down her throat, isn’t she?”

You moaned onto his flesh—his filthy, cruel words only making you want to please him more. You wanted to cum so badly but your own fingers just couldn’t get you there. You didn’t have enough time anyway, though, because Lloyd’s grip on your head tightened to the point of pain.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he said, pulling out of your burning throat and leaving you coughing and gasping for air. “Look up at me. I’m gonna paint that pretty face white. Open your fuckin mouth.”

You tried to keep eye contact with him but it was hard while you were still trying to catch your breath and keep from coughing.

“Look. At. Me,” he barked.

You stared into his lust-blown blue eyes as his mouth dropped open, his lips forming a perfect pink O as he huffed out air. Then you heard him grunt and you felt the first spurt hot against your cheek. The second one barely missed your eye but you kept them open, and he smirked down at you as he pressed the tip of his cock to your tongue and shot straight into the back of your throat. You gagged on it and swallowed and he laughed at you before gathering the cum off your face with his fingers and shoving them in your mouth.

“Clean your plate like a good little girl,” he said. “Come on. Suck.”

And you did, because the way he looked at you when you started to lick the cum off his fingers—there was something reverent about it, with more than a hint of amusement.

“I knew you’d be good,” he said when you’d licked him clean. “Fat chicks really do give the best head.”

You felt your cheeks blaze with embarrassment and shame and you would have started to cry if he hadn’t already fucked all the tears out of your face. You started to gather your clothes but he grabbed you by the arm and yanked you up off the floor. 

“Aww, don’t worry, Porkchop,” he said, pulling you against his bare chest. You looked up at him, horrified, but he wore a smug, satisfied smile as he ran his hands down your body, grabbing handfuls of flesh at your sides and your hips and finally taking two handfuls of ass. “Just means there’s more of you to love.”

“Get off me,” you cried, and you tried to push him back but he held you tight.

“Quit fucking struggling,” he snapped, his grip on you tightening to a bruising pressure. “You think I’m being mean? If you want mean, little girl, I can show you mean. But I’m dead serious. The guys make fun of me for it but I fucking love me a fat girl. Of course, I can’t actually be seen with one. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I fucking hate you, you asshole,” you screamed. “Let me go.”

“No,” he said, his mouth a hard line. “I’m not done with you, and you’re not done with me, but there are rules to this.”

“Fuck you and your rules. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

He grabbed your neck and pressed lightly on the sides, bringing his face down to yours—so close his lips grazed yours when he said, “You don’t really mean that, do you, Porkchop? It would be such a disappointment if you did.”

You opened your mouth to speak—-to scream or to cry you don’t know—-but he silenced you with a deep kiss. You hated yourself for returning it, for opening up for him and letting his cruel tongue inside. But fuck he felt good—-his lips and his hands and his rock-hard body. You never dreamed a guy like Lloyd would ever look twice at you. Even through your drunken haze, you knew you were being used—-that you were easy pickings for him that night and he took advantage of you—-but you didn’t care. He felt too fucking good for you to care. 

He made you cum on his fingers and his tongue three times that night before he kicked you out.

“Sorry, Porkchop. No girls in the house past sunrise. I’ll be seeing you real soon, though.”

You wanted to tell him he wouldn’t, that you’d just used him the way he used you. but you knew even then it was a lie. Any self-respect you had went out the window the moment you met Lloyd Hansen.

PART TWO >>>

#lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen #chris evans #chris evans characters #the gray man #special girl

[ryanscabinlife]

name 10 songs with 10 names in the titles that I like and tag 10 people at the end.

So I wasn't personally tagged on this, but after reading @allisonreader's post, I was inspired to do it. They left it open for their followers, so here I am listing 10 songs that I like that have names in the title.

I didn't realize writing a post with no pictures is extremely intimidating  🙃

i. Gale Song by The Lumineers - I can easily list the whole album where this song came from, but I only picked two that I like the most. One of them is the Gale Song. One of my go-to's when I'm having a campfire

Favourite line/s: "When you say my name, may it never give you pain"

ii. Marilyn Monroe by Nicki Minaj - I still remember when I first purchased the album Pink Friday: Roman Reloaded back in 2012, and this was the first song that really caught my attention. It's still one of my favourite Nicki songs. It's also special coz one of the few songs where Nicki did not rap.

Favourite line/s: "Truth is we mess up till we get it right" "I can get low, don't know which way is up. Yeah I can get high, like I could never come down"

iii. Vincent by Don McLean - One of the few songs that I remember my dad listened to when he was alive

Favourite line/s: ."..how you suffered for your sanity and how you tried to set them free. They would not listen, they did not know how" "And when no hope was left in sight on that starry, starry night you took your life, as lovers often do"

iv. Cecilia by Simon & Garfunkel - This song is a 'cleaning the house' staple for me. It just gives me so much positive energy

Favourite line/s: "Jubilation, she loves me again I fall on the floor and I'm laughin"

v. Angela by The Lumineers - the second song from the album Cleopatra - where The Gale Song also came from. Definitely a road trip/campfire song.

Favourite line/s: "Strangers in this town, they raise you up just to cut you down"

vi. A Rose for Emily by The Zombies - a really depressing song I discovered from a really depressing podcast. If you haven't listened to the Podcast "S-Town", give it a whirl.

Favourite line/s: "She keeps her pride somehow that's all she has protecting her from pain" "...as the years go by she will grow old and die. The roses in her garden fade away, not one left for her grave"

vii. Hey Jude by The Beatles - classic. Probably my favourite Beatles song.

Favourite line/s: "anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain, don't carry the world upon your shoulders" "Na-na-na-na-na Na-na-na-na, hey Jude Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude"

viii. Billie Jean by Michael Jackson - another classic. Don't have much to say about this song

Favourite line/s: "... be careful of what you do 'cause the lie becomes the truth"

ix. Think of Aaliyah by Boys II Men - probably the most 'deep track' on this list. A tribute to Aaliyah. RIP. A cover of "Think of Laura" by Christopher Cross.

Favourite line/s: "Hey Aaliyah, where are you now? Are you far away from here? I don't think so I think you're here taking our tears away"

x. Helena Beat by Foster the People - I still remember that year when I only listened to the album 'Torches' non-stop. It was a good year.

Favourite line/s: "You know those days when you wanted to choose to not get out of bed and get lost in your head again"

I don't know if anyone's gonna read this but if you did, consider yourself tagged!

#10 songs with names #10 songs tag #tag game

[sinisterexaggerator]

I know the answers to like 99.9% of these.

But. Here we go! 👀 ⛔️

⛔️ "Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?"

Hmm, not exactly. I always have the intention of finishing something, even if it takes me a year or more.

Well, I guess there was this one for a young Trevor Philips and Michael De Santa in North Yankton for GTA V. Never got around to adding more to it, and probably never will:

---

“Jesus, T! Get us the fuck out of here!”

“I’m trying M, but if you’re not satisfied with my driving skills, why don’t you sit YOUR fat ass behind the wheel?”

“Why the hell did you have to kill that guy?! He’s probably got a wife and kids!”

“Hey! He triggered the alarm! That’s why we’re in this mess.”

“No, we’re in this mess because you’re TRIGGERhappy!”

“Nananana… That snitch got what he deserved!”

Flashing lights, red and blue, reflecting off the crisp, white snow; two robbers running from the cops. Always running, forever, until the end of time, or at least that’s how Michael Townley felt, locked in tight by his seatbelt, the getaway car little better than a piece of shit, found somewhere off the beaten path before the job. It was a small-time gig, just a liquor store, but plenty of people warmed themselves by getting drunk; the register loaded down with money while its patrons were loaded down with booze; a typical, cold winter’s night for the pair of two-bit crooks.

Michael turned around, his weapon drawn, a pair of police cruisers in hot pursuit. They were firing their own rounds, aiming for the tires, and Townley knew he had to do something soon or wind up behind bars. “Can’t this thing go any faster, T?!”

“You know what’s REALLY fast? Your God damn mouth. Quit flapping your lips and get those assholes off our tail!”

Michael took a shot simply to smash the rearview windshield, seeing the cruisers clear as day as they were gaining on them, M feeling that all too familiar rush of adrenaline permeate throughout his entire being; he would tell T that he hated it, but the rush he felt made him feel alive, something he rarely felt at all.

On a good day he was half a man, kept alive by petty theft and diner food, skirting from one town to the next, Trevor at his heels like an obedient, somewhat restless puppy that needed to be potty trained – M taking it upon himself to break him in. He was useful, beneficial, however unrestrained and somewhat uncontrollable; he had it in his mind it was an easy fix, but Trevor had other wild ideas.

Michael pulled the trigger, and one cop spun out in a flurry of ice and squealing rubber, the car being buried conveniently in a mountain of thick, white powder, but not cocaine; that would be saved for their celebration later if they made it out alive.

“Whooo! That’s my cowboy! That’s some rootin’ tootin’ damn good shootin’, Mikey!”

“I don’t ever want to hear those words come out of your mouth again.”

---

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

LOL, you know allllll about my WIPs. Probably before anyone else. I have too many to choose from, but I hope to do these three things first and foremost:

Chapter 15 of Stars Above. Bane is in the bacta tank, forced to endure flashbacks from his past in the form of nightmares, and Zulara is left alone with Todo until he wakes up, however long it takes. But will Cad be pleased to see her there? What will Kayson think about her disappearance over the next few days? What lie or cover story will Hondo make up, if any?

This Hondo x Reader fic, where the reader is a spoiled little rich girl who is the daughter of a weapon's manufacturer. Their fates are hilariously intertwined, and Hondo is going to wind up getting more than he bargained for when he had originally set out to simply steal a little something off her.

A Tech x Reader fic where the Marauder is left in Tech's care during a Separatist attack on the planet Bandomeer. He comes across the reader who is injured and trapped under some rubble. He must help you/her and then pilot you both to safety. An unexpected turn of events causes you and Tech to be stranded until he can repair the ship; you are at the mercy of nature and the elements over the course of the next few days, not to mention any droids who may find you, and the rest of Clone Force 99 is preoccupied and unable to help. Hurt/Comfort/Possible smut. >D

#writer ask #ask game #fanfiction #thank you teeeeeeth #GTA V #Trikey #My WIPs

[sllhouettedreams]

A LOT of people can relate to crowley because his doubt in God manifested as rebellion and apostasy. Ive not talked to a high number of good omens fans but i can't imagine a lot of devout christians are a hardcore fans of it (or neil gaiman in general lbr). Crowley is immediately relatable bc his religious trauma is made of the same stuff as most fans.

But aziraphale shows the other side to Doubt and that's just incessant faith. He believes in God's Plan even when he doubts it. Even when it hurts innocent people because he believes that god will do good.

As for the heaven and archangel side of things like..I think a lot of people blame aziraphale for the end of s2 without realizing that... both crowley and aziraphales relationship with heaven mirrors that of an abusive parent/family.

I mean we all saw gabriel tell (who he thought was) aziraphale to shut up and die. This was ONE instance we were able to see of Aziraphale being given punishment. He mentions in Paris about heaven admonishing him for 'frivolous miracles' when crowley asks him why he didnt just leave the prison himself. Like. there are so many jokes about 'paperwork' for being discorporated and well. Theres something to be said for aziraphale being more willing to deal with the aftermath of being beheaded and needing a new body than to unlock his cuffs and save himself and risk upstairs citing him again.

Then there was the whole gabriel bringing sandalphon to the bookshop and using interrogation tactics on him (blocking the exit, putting sandalphon at his back, etc). The angels are so quietly malicious- "there are no back channels, michael"- right before michael phones a demon in hell. Like!! They might be inept when it comes to humanity but they hide their cruelty so well.

Like. I dont really have the words to make this all convincing and proper or whatever and im sure someones said it before and better with more examples but like

If you think of both of them as a victim of abuse, it puts it all into perspective doesnt it? The effects of abuse are so different for everyone especially when its abuse from family. Aziraphale has only ever wanted to appease heaven and do good by them that when given the chance to do the most good he jumped right on it. Heaven has sunk its claws deep into aziraphale to use as a tool. And aziraphale doesnt even realize! Bc if he werent "doing good" then he'd have been cast out like crowley had been, right?!

And Crowley was completely cut off from heaven for asking a few questions! He remembers what heaven was like and thinks there are a number of similarities between the two. Hes been utterly convinced of his wickedness. He will not ever return not even with the promise of forgiveness. He HAS seen that heaven is "toxic" because of the absurd reason he was cast out in the first place. He was a starmaker who asked questions!! And god was what. Annoyed at being challenged?

Crowley got out because he was cast out, aziraphale hasnt been granted that luxury and wont take those steps bc who knows if the punishment will be a simple Fall or annihilation or outer darkness there doesnt seem to be any set standard. And also aziraphale still loves god and doing good and to fall would mean to be cut off from all of that to have to go to hell and do the exact opposite. If he can just change things, if he could get the other archangels to see,

Well he hasnt quite discovered that heaven works exactly how its intended to and would need to be torn down before it can be rebuilt into something like aziraphale wishes it to be

Idk i get why its easy to blame aziraphale but. Idk ive been where hes at. Like. Not specifically and angel trying to rewrite heaven but. As a child of religious parents who were also terribly abusive people. I think its unfair that people are saying he should grovel and is wrong and whatever. I dont think crowley would even want that....

Idk im just thinking v hard about good omens its taking over my life. This is probably incomprehensible im just. SAD bc i love both aziraphale and crowley and for aziraphale to be given so much shit when it isnt entirely on him just makes me emotional ok 😔

#ive got a lot to be said for the reason why aziraphale and crowley specifically ended the way they did #but i think thats a whole different post #tldr aziraphale and crowley are foils of each other #in LOTS of different ways not just the obvious #good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 #good omens season 2 spoilers

[slashersangel]

im gonna boop you now-

uwu

Lets get down to business..to defeat thw Hanssss :D I wanna request poly!lost boys(pls include pretty boy michael uwu) with a fem s/o who is COMPLETELY human BUT ..She was the only one in her family that was human, born with superpowers. I would say elemantal control bc it's pretty cool admit it- ..so what if i watch the avatar or legend of korra ?! Sheesh, enjoy this should be fun

The usual elemants would Fire, Earth, Water, Wind. I would also add lava, metal, ice, snow..BUT WOAH SLOW DOWN, there is a catch here ya see? She doesn't know how to control her powers AT ALL and she has had a few problems in the past and currently atm.

Bye, have fun! Also, if u had a superpower what would it be? Mine would be dark matter or something that involves like dark witchcraft..not bc Im emo I- nvm lmao but have fun with this! ♡♡♡

*hug*

Ooh this is a good one! And if I were to have a power it would definitely be either energy manipulation (like wanda from marvel) or uhm… definitely control over nature like plants and animals and stuff! <3 and wow i haven’t thought of avatar or legends of Korra in forever! Thanks for jogging that memory.

these kitten gifs make me feel better because my cat ran away a few days ago 😭😭

Ploy! Lost Boys + michael with s/o who has powers! (fem)

• it started off with it raining whenever you were sad, thundering when you were angry or upset. At first it was very broad things that the boys thought maybe it was just a coincidence. But the other night, it was completely clear outside, not a cloud in the night sky, but after you had finished a sad movie (spoiler the dog died) you were trying to hard not to cry, they could tell, thats when the clouds rolled in, and when you started crying after Paul asked you what was wrong, the rain started.

• David and Dwayne looked at each other but the others didn’t seem to notice, too busy taking care of the crying you. Now, David and Dwayne have heard of witches before, never actually came across one before. They wouldn’t have even thought you were one until tonight.

• The six of you were over on the beach after chasing out a couple of people from their bonfire. It was chilly out due to the up take in wind, you had a shaw to keep you warm, key word is had. Paul and Marko took it from you to hit each other with.

• you were upset because you were cold and instead of asking for one of their jackets, you pouted and stared down Paul and Marko as they went ankle deep into the ocean. You bit the inside of your cheek and stared harder, which David noticed and he was about to hand you his jacket or make Michael do it, but there was a flash in your eyes that made him wait, and he’s glad he did because not a second later, a huge wave came crashing down on Paul and Marko.

• the boys laughed and you smiled before asking if they were okay. When you were asleep on David’s lap that night, he talked to Dwayne about it. Wait— he thinks you what? Made the wave? Sure… ya know David, you should get some rest with y/n

• David wasn’t as sure as he liked, so he brushed it off as a coincidence. Then Dwayne started think about it as well, maybe you were a witch or something without knowing.

• and the next night, they were all in your house and Paul, Marko and Michael has made it their mission to see which one was the better flirt, you wouldn’t give them an answer so they just decided to use their best pick up lines on you. It didn’t help that you were also making some food and at the end of Marko’s line (one of very many) he kissed you. When that happened, the eye you were boiling your water on caught fire. You quickly extinguished it and blamed it on the heat being too high, hiding the real truth.

• A few days later, they talked to you about it, to which you were completely surprised at, but you answered them. You were born human but had abilities, you could control the elements, the only one in your family with that could, and you didn’t know how to control them very well, explaining the fire incident. But you couldn’t control it, and you didn’t mean for the wave to hit Paul and Marko, but you were just so upset that it just happened!

• They all silently took it in, well Paul immediately asked if you could make lighting hit someone to which you shrugged at but Dwayne shut it down immediately. They asked you all sorts of questions about it too. Hey y/n can you light this on fire? Hey y/n, can you make an earthquake? Y/N, could you grow weed? Hey y/n, say someone was in the ocean, and you didn’t like the person could you— No Paul.

• they’s definitely try and help you control your powers so there isn’t a hurricane every time you cry over your favorite character dying. Baby, it’s okay, it’s not real, please don’t wipe out the whole western seaboard.

• they wouldn’t know what to do really, they associate controlling your powers like controlling their blood lust or mastering their mind tricks. With David, he tries and get you to master the harder elements like fire, metal or air. Yeah it might suck really bad whenever you don’t get it, or god forbid accidentally get hurt while doing it, (if that happens then you’d be banned from ever using that element) But he’d basically tell you to suck it up and continue and give a really shitty explanation of how to do it, because hey, he doesn’t know either. but you’ll end up getting distracted because he get’s frustrated that you’re not getting it.

• with dwayne, he takes a slow approach, he’d definitely find a book about it (how?), or about learning control and read it so he could teach you. He’d be one of those teachers where he’d put a cup of water in front of you and be like, now do something. Like what do you want her to do sir? SiR? If you want help, definitely go to him, he’s most likely to actually get anything done.

• Michael will try and mimic what Dwayne is doing to help you without the reading portion. He’d end up getting distracted and asking you to do something with your powers for him. Like, hey y/n, can you fill up my water? And you get confused when he spits it out. Y/N this is salt water???? Sorry babes. That would start a lesson on making drinking water and salt water, so at least you can do that now!

• now onto the terror twins. They’d definitely try and teach you together but end up getting absolutely nothing done except terrorizing people on the boardwalk. Like, hey y/n blow that girl’s hat away, she was looking at you funny. Y/N blow up that dude’s drink in his face, he was staring at your boobs earlier. You end up doing half of what they say, minus the more dangerous ones like lighting a girl’s scarf on fire, striking someone with lighting. (Paul >:()

• Paul would definitely ask you to strike Marko, come on y/n, he can take it! Then Marko would be all like, maybe i can take it… no Markie, you cannot take it.

• you’d run into the cave one night, excited, bouncing off the walls and when the boys would ask you what got you all happy, you’d show them. After a few deep breaths and a few moments of concentration, snow started falling inside the cave. When you opened your eyes, you saw the boys standing there dumbfounded, completely surprised that you could do this. You laughed and giggles with joy.

• I headcanon that since Michael went from Phoenix to Cali, he has never seen snow, but he knew from the moment it landed on him what it was and he was genuinely shocked, but he enjoyed it with you as you smiled and laughed in excitement. They loved how joyous you were about this and couldn’t help but smile along with you and your uncontainable excitement.

i really liked making this :), lemme know if you want a part 2??? also i’d love it be a witch? mostly because i grew up watching charmed but also because that’d be so fun?? whatttt

#the lost boys #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #marko the lost boys #paul the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys x reader #dwayne x reader #marko x reader #michael emerson #michael emerson x reader #paul x reader #david the lost boys 1987 #david x reader

[muninnhuginn]

For all people joke about season 2 being "plotless" (including myself tbh) I do think the Gabriel plotline was pretty well-constructed in terms of the mystery aspects.

There's literally enough to start suspecting as of episode one and later episodes give enough to solidify it.

Rough breakdown of the Clues below:

Episode one: blink-and-you-miss-it, but there is in fact a fly that buzzes out of the cardboard box when Aziraphale fetches it in. You also actually *hear* a fly in the bookshop at one point too, which isn't suspicious on its own but becomes so when you add it to other pieces. (Other pieces meaning that Beelzebub's own first appearance has the same fly sfx. And of course they're literally reintroduced this season surrounded by flies so we're not forgetting their whole theme any time soon. Jim also later has his whole thing with fly swatting where he says it's a-okay because the flies are always fine. My point is, flies are brought up multiple times in relation to Jim where our only prior association was with Beelzebub).

There's also Jim's line along the lines of "don't you think it'd be easier if you just had one specific person by your side". And on first watch, I'll admit my focus was way more on Aziraphale's overreaction to it (clearly thinking of Crowley) but in retrospect it's clearly *meant* to mean Beelzebub for all that Gabriel can't recall himself.

Then, later episodes, the Resurrectionist. The matchbox is literally *from* there and we know Gabriel had been there because the bartender recognised him. The bartender also said he was with someone who "looked like a mason". And masons (according to google at least :V) wear these collar-type things that resemble sashes, aka, pretty similar visually to what Beelzebub wears. You can also read into how the Every Day song was one of the few things Gabriel could remember that it was either a really strong memory or recent to just before he was mindwiped. But the news articles and the bartender all imply the jukebox changed to that song a few months/years before the present day. And again, why keep the matchbox from back then as one of his only earthly objects? So the song and the company *are* both actually pretty important to Gabriel. Genuine Clues. Possibly the companion is the same "specific person" who would make everything better? Bit of a stretch maybe but a possibility for sure.

And alongside all this, we have a number of instances of Beelzebub acting strangely. It can be written off at first as Gabriel being an archangel so it makes sense Hell is incredibly interested. We get Beelzebub offering Crowley an incredible reward, okay, kinda weird, but this is about an archangel, you know? And then it just builds. So we get the scene with the lower demon who says they usually have their tongue extracted and that... doesn't happen because Beelzebub is moping? Harder to write off but okay. And the final straw, Beelzebub authorising Shax to storm the bookshop despite it still being an "embassy". It seems like a recipe for disaster so the fact Beelzebub approved such a hare-brained scheme adds to the entire sense of wrongness around Beelzebub.

We know Gabriel had a companion we don't know the identity of. That the song was important to him when he was meeting this companion. Beelzebub is acting more and more off in their pursuit of Gabriel. There's a space there waiting to be filled and as the series goes on there are only so many people that can fill it. And so the flies are just the final nail in the coffin.

There are also some bonus bits and bobs like how it was implied Michael and Beelzebub were directly in contact by phone in episode one. (It's not directly confirmed to be them but given how Beelzebub later relays info that's identical to what was said in Heaven it seems a reasonable assumption) How the Job flashback had the whole Heaven-Hell bet. The higher-ups in Heaven and Hell have always been more buddy buddy than they'd like to pretend.

#good omens #good omens spoilers #go #sorry just getting annoyed at some review sites saying this twist was out of nowhere #when there is actually so much foreshadowing. this stuff is just what I remember off the top of my head #there's probably way more I'm forgetting

[teddysmusings]

hello everyone! i'm linny (he/him, 26, est) and i'll be playing theodore here, as well as @kaialawson! i'm a little tardy to the party, but i'm here and i'm super excited to get to get to know everyone and their muses. underneath the cut you'll find all of teddy's background information, stats, and some connection ideas! if you're interested in plotting, just drop a like and i'll shoot you a message!

B A S I C S 

full name: theodore song. nicknames: theo, teddy. gender:  cis man. pronouns:  he/him. sexuality:  pansexual. age:  30 date of birth:  october 3rd, 1993. zodiac sign:  libra. birthplace: brooklyn, new york. current location: jongno, seoul, south korea. residence: share house in bukchon hanok village. occupation:  free lance artist and physical trainer. languages spoken: english, korean.

A P P E A R A N C E

faceclaim:  matthew kim (bm). height:  6’3. build:  muscular and toned. eyes:  brown. hair:  naturally dark brunette. piercings: standard earlobe piercings.  tattoos:  none. other distinguishing features:  n/a. style:  casual and comfortable.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

traits: (+) creative, humorous, friendly, loyal , affectionate. (-) finicky, eccentric, too friendly, jealous, clingy.  mental health:  good standing. physical health:  great physical shape. likes:  art, museums, literature, parties, working out, traveling.  dislikes:  intolerant people, rude people, bullies, organized religion.  fears:  death.  phobias:  the dark. hobbies:  sculpting, painting, drawing, photography, reading, hiking, working out. skills: cooking, art, tbd. quirks:  rubbing the back of his neck, snorting when amused or annoyed, being handsy and touchy with his closest friends.

F A V O R I T E S

ice cream flavour:  strawberry.  time of the day / night: early morning.  weather:  fall weather.  breakfast food:  eggs, bacon, pancakes  dinner food:  pizza, anything with meat. colours:  blue, purple, black.  music: flo, ayra starr, iu, park hyoshin, beyonce, twice, jay-z, j. cole, doechii, ariana grande, harry styles, troye sivan. 

M I S C E L A N E O U S

a cherished item:  a photo of himself, his younger sibling and his parents. first love ( celeb crush ):  iu / keke palmer / chad michael murray. usual mood:  happy. 1 thing they want to do / experience before they die:  have an art exhibit. 

B I O

Growing up without parents is something that no one should have to suffer through, but unfortunately for Theodore, he had no choice. When he was eight years old, his parents were taken from him too soon, due to a drunk driving accident. He himself was in the car along with them, but fortunately he wasn’t harmed in the collision apart from a few scrapes and bruises here and there. Despite being so young when he lost his parents, he remembers them with crystal clear accuracy. He was very close to his parents, especially his mother. He was what people would normally call a mama’s boy.

Unlike a lot of boys who cling to their fathers while growing up, Teddy found himself clinging to his mother instead. He formed a special bond with her that people couldn’t really understand and after a while stopped trying to understand. He spent a lot of time with her during the first six years of his life. She was an art school teacher, and she would bring him along with her to work, which was the jumping off point for his love of art. Everything he knows about art today stems from watching her teach her classes, and while he couldn’t really comprehend everything she was saying back then, he was exposed to it quite early, which made it easier for him to adjust to art and all its forms when he started to really study it.

When he was just a few years old, his parents had another baby. He was excited to have a younger sibling, one that he could take care of and have a strong bond with. His little sibling had a love for art as well, and that was something they both bonded over. Even though they were both very young, it was very obvious that the both of them wanted to be artists in some way, shape or form. Their mother surrounded them with art and they both took to it like fish to water. His younger sibling was incredibly close to him, and he loved the bond that the two of them shared. Despite the difference in their ages, they were practically best friends who did everything together.

When their parents passed away, the two of them were forced to separate from one another. They weren’t given a choice in the matter because they were so young. Almost immediately his sibling was adopted and he was placed in foster care, something that he hated with every fiber of his being. The foster family he lived with drove him absolutely crazy. They were diehard Catholics and always tried to enforce their views and religious values onto him, which he had no choice but to accept when he was growing up. As he grew older, the more they tried to force religion onto him, the more he rejected it. By the time he was twelve or thirteen years of age, he had already come to the conclusion that he would not follow through with any religion once he came of age. The idea of organized religion had already been tainted for him, and he no longer wanted anything to do with it anymore. Despite his conclusion that he wouldn’t affiliate himself with any religions anymore, his foster parents forced him to attend bible study, Sunday school and even made him participate in the church’s art classes for children. Although that was something he didn’t really mind in the slightest. Being a part of the church’s art class had somewhat revitalized the love he had for art when he was a little kid, and he found himself looking forward for church every Sunday, because that meant he got to do what he loved.

As soon as he turned eighteen, Teddy set off on his search for his younger sibling, wanting to find them and reconnect with them. His foster parents hadn’t allowed him to do so while he was growing up, but now that he was legal and officially out from under their thumb, he knew there was nothing they could do to stop him from looking for his lost sibling. His search for his kin led him to South Korea, where his parents grew up. Upon finding his sibling and reconnecting with them, he also fell in love with the country. It was the exact change of scenery that he needed and had given him a new incentive to continue on with his art. 

These days, Theodore works as a freelance artist and when he’s not making money doing commissions and projects for people here and there, he makes a living being a personal trainer. He hopes to someday kick off his career as a professional, full time artist, but until then, he’s happy having it as a side job and hobby.

C O N N E C T I O N S

his younger sibling: self explanatory, i'll probably send in a wc to the main for this one, but if you're interested and have a muse that fits or you want to bring in a muse in the future that might fit, just let me know!

ex ( multiple ): teddy is a lover through and through, so it's not surprising that he's had a few relationships here and there. some lasting longer than others.

fwb ( multiple ): a guy's got needs, and this person never fails to fulfill them whenever he calls on them and vice versa.

inspo: teddy's made art pieces about / for this person before.

best friend / platonic soulmate: the peanut butter to teddy's jelly. the patrick to teddy's spongebob. the milk to teddy's cereal.

bad influence: teddy, despite his appearance, is a lot sweeter and soft than he appears to be. this person is the one that talks him into tapping into his not so nice side. he's been taken advantage of for his kindness before, and this person is tired of seeing people use teddy like that.

tug-of-war: these two go back and forth. one minute they're going on outings and dates and are all cuddled up, then the next they're arguing and fussing. a hot and cold type of relationship that teddy can't seem to get out of. they care for each other, but whenever they try to be anything more than friends, it falls apart.

practically roommates ( multiple ): teddy has his own place and his own roommate, but these two are always hanging out at each other's places. teddy really enjoys their company and vice versa.

note: if you can't find anything to your liking here, we can always brainstorm!

#jongno:hello #( teddy intro. )

[antstarion]

stevenfrenchie💅 (mackay steven)

this is the first fic I have posted in,,, omg nearly a month. im rusty as he'll but I know if I don't post this now then it'll never get posted. it's rough so bare w me. also in this I use Jean-Paul and frenchie interchangeably.

---

Jean-Paul tugs at the end of his sleeves, trying but failing to make the suit fit more comfortably on him. It wasn't that he hasn't worn a suit before, more that steven seemed to prefer his suit be extremely tight.

"Are you ready?" steven calls from outside the bathroom, a slight hint of impatience in his voice. "The suit will be fine" he tags on more softly.

Jean-Paul doesn't respond verbally, instead opening the door to put himself on display to steven. Steven doesn't hide his examination of the frenchie's appearance, waving his hand in the air to encourage him to turn around so he could get a view of the other side too. Furrowing his brow, steven releases a small laugh.

"Yes, it may be a little tight" he mutters under his breath.

Jean-Paul shakes his head and shoves stevens shoulder.

"I told you" he huffs in response, glancing back into the mirror behind him. But a glance wasn't enough, so frenchie turned himself around fully to get a better look.

The mirror's image was barely recognizable. Michael, stevens "hair artist", had cut and styled his hair. He ran his fingers over his mustache, it was a little bit shorter than he would've liked.

Then there was the suit. Steven looked so natural walking around like that, like a man who knew what stocks were and had one of those job titles that sounded impressive even though you didn't know what it was. But he felt like he was playing a part. Like someone had dressed him in expensive clothes for a joke and any second everyone would burst into laughter.

The more he looked at himself, the more discouraged he felt. The people at this event would see right through him.

Fortunately, steven notices his distress and comes up behind him, placing one hand on his shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze

"We've done this before" steven states simply. It was true, although usually their missions together involved a lot less schmoozing.

"I feel like an imposter" frenchie responds. He simply wasn't made for stevens world.

Steven knowingly smiles at the man's reflection. It was a feeling he wasn't a stranger to. When he woke up in Marc's world or Jake's world he always felt like he was intruding, he wasn't supposed to be there after all.

"They're all frauds, nobody feels like they belong. All you have to do is look the part" steven comforts, hoping the knowledge he can offer will be enough.

Frenchie looks himself up and down. If his face wasn't attached to this body he would say this person belonged, he could pass for a businessman. Somehow, stevens face next to his in the mirror made him feel better too. They made a good pair.

"You made sure of that, mon ami" frenchie jokes, dropping his hard expression to adopt a small smirk. Steven smiles back at him, letting his eyes drift around his face.

"I know, I didn't pay for that suit for nothing" he quips back, raising his hand to flatten a few stray hairs on frenchies head. With a smile still on his face, steven pats his shoulder twice before walking away.

Frenchie stays frozen in the bathroom, glad that steven had left so he didn't have to see how flustered his actions had made him. It was going to be an interesting night.

---

this sparked from a chat between @pizzee and @tiptapricot with the "I know, I didn't pay for that suit for nothing" line coming from Mike, so credits to them for that. also read their post here it's v good

#i’m also scheduling this bc i’m too scared to post it #steven grant #moon knight #mackay run #frenchie moon knight #jean paul duchamp #moon knight fanfic