#I'm gonna wash it on Tuesday | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sameschmidtdiffname · 3 months

Text

Princess

Mike Schmidt x Female! Reader

Summary: You detest having a roommate. You enjoy cheap rent. One of these things is going to have to change at some point, and with the week you're having? There's only so long before people reach a breaking point.

Tags: Smut. Filthy smut. (This is the first smut I've published too, so enjoy that.) Enemies to lovers, mocking, Mike is so OoC at some parts you could really shove anyone into this role, I'm going to be so extremely for real. (I'm honestly just feral for the actor. Sorry.) Hate fucking, dirty talk, cursing, cucking(??), listening in, masturbating, dumbification, slight dacrophillia(??), Abby's out of the equation for this scenario. Imagine like, early 20s Mike, he's not caretaker yet. Praising, pet names (good girl, princess, whore, pretty girl), no use of Y/N. Dom! Mike, teasing Reader, Brat (??) Reader, phone sex, walking in on masturbation, walking in on sex, possessive! Mike, hickies/bite marks, finger sucking, hair pulling, slut shaming, probably missing some things imma be honest. Just assume this is depraved.

Notes: I'd like to apologize to God and Josh Hutcherson. This is filth and I recognize my eternal soul is indeed damned. Anyways, bone apple teet.

▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

I didn't mind Mike when I met him, you know.

He's quiet. Shy. Keeps to himself. Those traits should make for a good roommate. If he'd kept his mess confined to his room, maybe the music that he blares just a little too loudly wouldn't be so headache inducing.

My fingers rap on the thin door, demanding his attention which is never given to me unless I make a production out of it. We both know that.

"Michael," I say.

Silence.

"Mike."

Nothing.

I open the door and there he is, peacefully asleep on his bed as the bass shakes the water in his glass. I sigh and click off the stereo, then turn to leave. It's incredible how quickly I hear him shift on the bed, scrambling to stand.

"The fuck?" He croaks, wiping sleep from his eyes.

"Your music was blaring. I already heard it from Mrs. Jones upstairs about you waking her kid up, I'm not dealing with that again," I say raising my hands up in the air defensively.

"I don't sleep well," he says.

"Neither does the baby," I say.

Mike rolls his eyes, turning the music back on and turning his back to me.

"Michael-"

"Don't call me that," he interrupts.

It's my turn to roll my eyes. "Schmidt, can you at least turn it down? I'm asking nicely," I say. He stands there for a moment and though I can't see his face, I know he's thinking.

Finally, with a sigh he says "Fine, princess."

"Don't call me that," I say. I hear a small huff of laughter from him and he turns to look at me.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hit a nerve?" He asks with false sympathy.

"It's a simple request," I say. My eyes narrow at him in irritation.

"Which one?"

"Both."

We stand there for a moment, both of us sizing the other up, taking each other in.

"Fine."

With the agreement having been made, I turn to leave, shutting the door behind me.

Year long lease. Joy.

-Tuesday-

"Hurry up!" Yells Mike, pounding on the bathroom door.

"I'm fucken hurrying!" I yell back, my hands working as fast as they can to wash off my body. Late alarm, fever dreams causing me to wake in a pool of stinking sweat, and one bathroom make for a horrendous cocktail of repeated 'fuck you's through the cheap door.

"I'm gonna be late!" Mike yells.

"So am I, I'm sorry!"

There's a moment of long silence and I think maybe Mike has finally found a spot of pity, realizing that maybe we aren't enemies but simply humans who unfortunately have to coexist in this world together. Then the water turns freezing, and I realize I hate him.

"Michael!" I practically scream. Traces of soap still reside on my body, but the cold and my alarm both force me out. Angered and not thinking clearly, I wrap the towel around my dripping waist and swing the door open.

"Are you fucking happy?" I sneer, face inches from his.

His expression is initially satisfied, but as his eyes flicker downwards he and I both realize my mistake. His eyes widen, lingering for a moment on my bare chest as he processed what he was seeing, then returning to meet my glare.

"What?" I ask sharply. "You've never seen a pair before?"

He stammers. "I-I have."

"Don't act like it," I say. "Take a fucken photo, be the only pair you'll probably ever see in your life, dicksmack."

As though he remembers himself, his eyes narrow. "Move, princess."

I slam past him, walking quickly towards my room and slamming the door behind me.

"Don't wake the baby!" Mike mocks down the hall.

Oh, motherfucker. It is on.

-Wednesday-

It's hard to break a lease. It's harder when nothing as cheap exists in the area. This is a problem for both Mike and I. I know it's true for him because apparently even his bills are too troublesome to keep on the floor of his room. But despite his mess, it's him that comes barreling down the hall, bursting into my room with no warning.

"Jesus, Michael!" I start, spinning around in my chair. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"

"Have you ever heard of washing a dish?" He sneers. "It's not hard. My baby sister could do it."

"Oh, is she available? I'd love to see how she'd handle your laundry situation," I retort.

"Why is it impossible for you to actually wash something? You'll put water in it, let it soak. I respect that, but then you never come back to it. Do you enjoy flies? I think you enjoy flies," he says with hate dripping off of his words. I roll my eyes, but he's not entirely wrong either.

"Fine," I mutter. "I'll do the dishes. Sorry."

"See? Look at how hard that was, princess." He begins to turn away.

"Will you quit fucking calling me that?" I snap.

"I'm following our bargin. You're the one who slips first, princess," he says while laughing, raising his hands in defense.

A long moment passes, neither of us willing to back down.

"Do the dishes yourself," I say finally, turning back to the computer.

"Not my mess," he says.

"Too bad. I'm too delicate," I say with a faux breathiness to my voice. The door slams behind him, which has me instantly rising from my chair to race after him.

"Don't slam my door!" I say.

"You did it the other day!" He says, spinning around to face me and almost slipping on one of his shirts littering the hall. I can't help but smile at that.

"Problems?" I ask.

"Yeah, they exist in whatever demon spawned you," he hisses. His eyes catch on something though, narrowing as he leans slightly closer. "The fuck is on your neck?" He asks.

"The fuck you mean 'the fuck is on my neck?'" I ask.

"I mean you've got something on your neck," he says.

"No I don't," I say. "Move." I shove past him to enter the bathroom beside us, flicking on the light and feeling my irritation rise as he reaches to do the same thing simultaneously.

"See?" He says, pointing at a small, dark mark on my neck.

Fuck.

"I don't fucken know what that is," I lie, covering it with my hand.

"You liar, that's a hickey!" He says still pointing at it.

"Is not!"

"Is too. What, are you fucking some high-schooler?" He scoffs.

"Adults leave hickies too, Mike. It can be enjoyable. You'd know this if someone ever wanted to fuck you," I spit back.

"Who on earth would enjoy having sex with you?" He asks. "The only loads you leave attract flies I don't want to have to deal with come summer."

My jaw drops in shock.

"And the only loads you leave smell like menthols and depression!" I retort.

Staring. Always staring with this guy. Jaws clentched, eyes narrowed.

"Just don't bring this guy around here," he finally says. His voice is quieter but the edge is still there.

I blink. "What?"

"You heard me," he says. "I don't need to hear your shrill voice like that."

Am I imagining things or is he blushing? No, I'm definitely imagining things. It's the florescents.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I taunt. The fuck kind of response was that?

His eyes widen slightly. "No," he says a little too quickly.

"What, you get one look at my tits and now you're thinking about that degenerate shit?" I press, stepping closer.

"I don't- this-" He's blundering. I've got him now, I've found his weak spot.

Without a word, I slip out of the bathroom and return to my room, shutting the door and beginning a plan that will guarantee I won't have to worry about being the roommate that breaks lease and looks for a new apartment.

-Thursday-

"Are you close, baby?" The sweet voice on the phone asks me. The battery on my toy is flashing, showing one of us needs to finish soon. And while I like Nick, there was just something lacking in him that kept me on this irritating edge, hiding my release from me.

"I'm close," I confirm, switching hands to try and hit a new angle. The video on the computer is doing nothing to help with this at all, and I'm so bored I'm tempted to just fake it and seal the deal.

The plan was simple. Establish dominance over my roommate via fucking a guy I'd met at some party the week before. Nick was an easy target, too busy thinking with his dick to question why I was suddenly insistent on him coming over. And to guarantee his presence at the apartment, I would have to put in work. Not that I wasn't fully uninterested. He was alright, I was single. Beneficial for everyone involved.

The vibrator finally found that sweet spot, the one that made me cry out softly into the receiver as my wrist pumped with newfound vigor.

"Close," I told Nick. "Isn't as good as you though."

Nick chuckles softly. "You're sweet," he says. Then he's prattling sweet praises, whimpering into the phone breathily along with me as I finally begin to tip over the edge, moaning loudly and clearly. It's my luck that Mike should be at work at this moment.

Should be.

Wasn't.

The door opens as Mike walks in, his mind obviously focused on something else but immediately taken aback at the sight of me sprawled upon the bed, legs open, toy in hand, Nick on phone, porn on computer. Shit.

"Jesus!" Mike shouts. "It's the middle of the day!"

"Get the fuck out!" I shout back, my voice less vicious than I'd like given that I was mid-ruined orgasm. Mike covers his eyes, trying to stumble out of the door without looking, muttering a dozen apologies a second before finally reaching and slamming the door shut behind him.

Nick and I are both silent for a long while, neither of us sure what to say.

"So... I'll see you tomorrow?" I ask finally.

"...yeah." He says. And with the click of my phone, the plan is solidified.

I don't see Mike that evening until about three hours later when he finally emerges from his room with pink cheeks and clothed in a large hoodie he seems to wish would swallow him whole.

"Hey," I say to him. I chew on my cheap food slowly, flipping through my novel at the cluttered table.

"Hi," he says quietly, not really making eye contact with me. He crosses to the cabinets, taking out a glass and filling it with water. We listen to the tap for a moment before I finally say "I didn't mean for you to see that."

His eyebrows scrunch in confusion. "I got that."

More silence. The tap shuts off and he leans against the sink, taking a long sip.

"So... hickey guy?" He finally asks. And I can't help the snort that escapes me.

"Nick," I say.

"And he's...?" Mike is testing the waters, that much is obvious.

"Canadian," I say.

Mike nods. Sip. Silence.

"Nick, from Canada," he says slowly.

"Yep," I say, popping the 'p.'

Mike looks at his drink in thought.

"So you're into Canadians," he finally says. I think for a moment.

"No," I say. I mark my book and close it. "Just bored."

"Just bored?" Mike asks.

"Just bored," I confirm.

Sip. Silence. Thinking.

"You... do that regularly?" He asks.

"I mean... I like sex," I say.

His cheeks redden at that, and he takes another sip as though to hide that.

"He's coming over tomorrow," I say casually. Mike's eyes dart to mine, dark and wide.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Another sip. He finishes his glass.

"Should I find plans for tomorrow?" He asks finally.

"No," I say a bit too quickly. Both of our cheeks redden at that. "I mean, we won't... shouldn't...." I don't know what I mean.

Mike stares at me thoughtfully for a moment then looks back to the glass in his hand.

"You're pretty loud, princess," he finally says quietly.

There's a new tension in the air. One that isn't brought on by hate or dirty dishes. One that I don't mind strangely.

"You could join us, if you'd like," I offer. Mike's grip on the glass tightens so suddenly I'm almost surprised it doesn't burst.

"I- I'm pretty sure I'd get in the way," he stammers. Then his eyes darken, a strange look in them. "Besides, I don't like being a whore."

This comment stings. Deeply.

"I'm not a whore," I say defensively.

"Oh?" Mike asks.

"He's the only guy I've fucked in months, so yeah," I say.

"Oh, is that why I hear you moaning late at night all the fucking time?" Mike says. "Seriously, you're fucking loud."

"And you're a fucking virgin," I snap.

"Says who?" He asks.

"Forget it," I say. I gather my things and rise from my chair. "Don't fucking talk to me."

"Fine," he scoffs. "I'll wash this dish too, princess," he calls after me.

I spin around. "You would be so much more fuckable if you were easy to swallow," I snapped, stomping my foot like a child.

Both of us stare at each other in a bit of shock at what I just said.

"Most girls swallow just fine, thank you," he retorts.

"Who's the whore now?" I say. I don't wait for him to respond, slamming the door shut behind me.

Fine. Let him hate me. That's the whole point of this anyways. Then it'll be me and someone else in this terrible fucking apartment. Maybe it'll be Nick. Anyone would be better, I tell myself.

...

...how easy is Mike to swallow?

-Friday-

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't struggling to remember the correct name right now.

Nick is underneath me, pumping his cock in and out like no tomorrow as I grind against him. My jaw is slack, my hands buried in the blankets fabric underneath of us. I'm staring at the thin door though, the thin door that I know leaks every little noise whether there's a towel under the enormous crack or not. And the shadows of footsteps that I see make it all the easier for Nick to continue his shallow rhythm, edging me closer and closer.

"Mi-Nick," I moan loudly. It sounds endearing, thankfully. But my heart races at how close I've come to fucking things up in a few different ways. "Fuck, you're thick," I moan. It's not particularly true, but his size is fine, so what's an ego boost to help him along the way?

Nick is sweet underneath of me, moaning that I'm his, that we're each others. That's great and all, but God. There is this missing edge. And it isn't until I hear pounding on the bedroom door that I finally feel real excitement begin to flow through me.

"We need to talk," Mike's voice says firmly.

Nick looks guilty, his eyes wide and asking for silent guidance. I don't respond, simply continuing to slide up and down Nick's cock and moaning while doing so.

"Hey, princess," Mike says firmer, pounding on the door again. "Think you can stop Oh-ing Canada and come talk to me like a fucking adult?"

I don't stop, grinding harder against Nick's base. My hands find my clit, rubbing it as I respond.

"I told you you were welcome to join us," I moan. Nick looks at me like I've gone utterly insane, and maybe I have. Maybe I'm completely delusional about all of this, but I couldn't care less as I feel my dripping cunt tighten to the point even Nick doesn't care what happens so long as he comes inside of me.

"Mi-Nick," I moan. "Mi-ne, mi-ne." Come on, Schmidt. Catch the fucking hint.

All night I had been plauged with dreams about Michael fucking Schmidt. I'd noticed when we met he was attractive to me. I liked his hands, his stubble. God, his shoulders made me think things that will probably send me straight to Hell. But hate usually kept these thoughts at bay. Last night however, the dreams wouldn't stop coming. Over and over, a new fantasy of him emerged in my head. Him underneath of me as a writing mess, him begging for more, my tits in his mouth as he finished inside me. It was depraved. I wanted it.

The door bursts open just as Nick is finishing inside of me. It's the look in Mike's eyes that causes me to finish, all while keeping eye contact with him as well.

Nick is quick to flip me on my back, covering my body haphazardly with a blanket prattling excuse after excuse. Apparently we're sorry. Apparently we had gotten too wrapped up in the moment because apparently, you know how it is, right man?

But it doesn't matter. Mike isn't looking at Nick, who's pulling on his shirt above me. Mike's looking at me, watching my fingers that trail gently along my areolas, flicking lightly at my hardened nipples and clearly longing for more.

"Mike wouldn't know the first thing about pleasing a woman," I say with little thought.

"Oh?" Both of them ask me.

"I think you should leave, Nick. Mike and I are going to have a little talk, and I don't want you to see how ugly this may get," I say without breaking eye contact with Mike.

The sudden shift in the air is not subtle, so maybe that's why Nick doesn't really hesitate to listen to me.

"I'll call you later," he says as he stumbles past Mike.

"Don't bother," Mike calls after him. Mike slams the bedroom door shut, locking it before turning to me and raising an eyebrow.

"Is there something you'd like to say to me?" Mike asks, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms as his stands tall.

My hand dips to between my thighs where Nick and I's cum pools out, coating me in the thick stuff.

"Sorry," I say in a spoiled tone, smiling.

Mike's eyes scan my entire body. From the hickies coating my neck, to my breasts and even my thighs, I can see a new wave of anger washes over him. At least, it looks like anger. There's something else mixed with it too, something I desperately want to play with.

"You're not sorry for shit," he says. He's correct.

"I told you last night, I like fucking people," I say as my fingers circle my clit.

Mike's jaw tightens. "You like fucking people," he repeats.

I can see him grind his teeth. He's silent for another moment. "And do you like... him?"

I giggle. "You tell me," I say with a soft and low voice.

His eyebrows twitch. "You're still... going?" He asks with an unsure edge to his voice.

"Yes, Michael. This is what a woman looks like when she's turned on," I say in a mocking tone, batting my lashes as my fingers dip into my entrance. "Would you like to try?"

He steps closer, bending down ever so slightly to stand over me.

"Don't call me that," he says in a low growl.

"Make me," I taunt.

He blinks.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

A startled yelp escapes me as Mike grabs my hips, dragging me roughly to the edge of the bed. He spreads my legs, stepping between them and slips his rough thumb inside of me with no hesitation.

"Fuck. You do like him," he groans, his other hand fiddling with his belt. I can see how hard he is underneath his jeans, his fingers clumsy but working quickly at the items covering him.

"He's oka-ay," I say quickly, my voice trailing off into a soft moan. His thumb explores the inside of my cunt, probing the wet muscle and massaging inside of me spots a man had never taken time to look for before. "Your finger's thick," I moan.

Mike chuckles, freeing himself and pumping into his hand slowly as he presses his thumb deeper inside of me.

"You told Nick he was thick too," he says. "That just your line with guys?"

It is, but this time I actually mean it. So I shake my head. "No," I say quietly.

"I don't believe you," Mike says. He slips his thumb out of me, making me clench around nothing. I open my mouth to protest only for Mike to quickly shove his thumb into my mouth, touching the back of my throat while he sinks his cock into me.

"Go on, pretty girl," he moans. "Take it like the proud whore you are."

I gag around his thumb, both from the sudden intrusion and from the taste. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't like this, if I said that his actions didn't make me even more wet and that I didn't suck his thumb greedily, wrapping my tongue around it and sucking it clean until I can only taste his rough flesh. I swear it makes his dick twitch.

His cock slides in and out of me with ease, taking his time to feel how I wrap around him.

"Fuck," he drawls. "It's been awhile."

I moan around his thumb, running my tongue along the underside and trying to rock my hips against him to tell him to speed up. Instead, he presses a hand down on my lower stomach, pinning me down as he sinks in fully. At first glance his size is average, but inside of me it's overstimulating how he fills me just a little too much.

His thumb presses further into my throat, making me gag as he tilts his head back in pleasure.

"You are just demanding. Do you know that?" He asks. I try to respond, but he simply presses his thumb against a spot that makes me gag once more.

"Nothing's good enough for you. Not even Nick. You didn't even cum until I came in here," he laughed cruelly, looking down at where we connect. His other thumb trails down to rub my clit slowly, making me writhe underneath him and clench around his still cock.

"Never shutting up. Till now. I like it when you're quiet, princess. Makes you easier to swallow." He presses deeper inside of me, making me whine in overstimulation.

"You're mine now," he says, slowly pulling out. "You can call Nick all you want. Call him, fuck him. But we both know he's not gonna make you cum like I will." Just his tip remains in me, barely staying in before he slams back into me so hard I scream.

"So what's the point?" Mike asks, slowly slipping out once more. "Do you like pitting men against each other like that?" He slams back into me. My eyes water, but I don't protest.

This time when he pulls back, he stays there. I wait for him, trying to he patient. But then he removes his thumb and wraps his hand around his length instead.

"What?" I ask, my voice raw.

"Say it," Mike says as he jerks himself off slowly.

"Say what?" I ask.

"I'm not gonna fuck you like you want unless you say you're mine," he says casually. His tip is bright red and leaking precum, his length coated in Nick and I's milky cum.

"Fuck you," I say. Mike just laughs.

"You're the one laying here crying over some dick," he taunts. "I just want to make sure we're on the same page here, princess."

I try to hold strong, I really do. It'd be more fun if I did. But fuck. The way he stands over me, his shoulders broad. I could never deny I liked the sight of his hands either, and seeing them tug as his pulsing cock while he stared down at me with that stupid fucking smile?

It's not fair.

"I'm yours," I say quietly.

"Hmm?" Mike asks, pumping his dick quicker now. I can see how hard his veins are, and the sounds of him fucking his own hand make me want him more.

"Yours," I repeat slightly louder.

"Use proper English," he says. His face has this stupid blissful look on it, his mouth slightly open as he pants, fucking himself and watching me as he does.

"I am yours," I hiss through gritted teeth. It doesn't even take a full second before he's buried in me once more, his hands pinning my knees to my shoulders and fucking me with enough speed I'm genuinely scared he'll hurt me. And I love it.

"I'm going to make you mine," he grins, his voice suddenly turning feral.

"I'm going to make you mine so much that you won't even be able to remember what Nick's name is, let alone what he looks like. Or what he feels like."

"Uh huh," I whine. My voice is so unusually high and ragged, my mouth slack and eyes rolling back in pleasure. I rock against his hips, trying to find my second edge. I'm babbling, whether I'm asking for mercy or more is anyone's guess.

He laughs at me, and it's a harsh and cruel laugh - not at all like the usual sarcasm and mockery he displays. Instead, his laugh comes from a place that is raw and angry and vicious, the kind of laugh a wolf makes when he's about to go for the kill.

"What's the matter?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Not quite the big, bad man that he's made you think he was, is he? How disappointing," he continues, his hips thrusting into me repeatedly.

I cry loudly with each new thrust. His movements are cruel, borderline abusive. Christ, I love it.

"Bigger," I whine. "Bigger."

He teeth nip at my throat, sinking in hard enough I'll be wearing sweaters and scarves for weeks. Makeup won't touch the color.

"Bigger?" He asks in a mocking voice. "What's bigger?"

"You're bigger," I moan. My voice is broken, and there's no way the neighbors don't hear the degeneracy occurring around them. Sorry, Mrs. Jones.

"What are you going for?" he snaps, his eyes narrowing and his voice growing more and more vicious. "Big bad Mike?" he giggles, his grip tightening on my ankles as he continues plunging into me.

A loud scream escapes me as Mike finds my g spot. He doesn't relent, focusing on the spot and abusing it while I sob and try to wiggle away, completely overstimulated from pleasure and unable to handle it.

His hands pin me against him, trapping me where I am and forcing me to take him however he wants me to.

"You want more?" he asks, taking one hand away from my ankles, grabbing and pulling my hair harshly, forcing me to stare into his eyes. His pupils are so blown out I can't even see his pretty hazel irises. They're dark and predatory, his breath hot and heavy with rage.

"Is that what you want?" he asks, pulling back and plunging into my aching cunt again.

"Yes!" It's a violent scream that escapes me, feeling myself begin to tip over the edge. His eyes sparkle, his lips in a smile that shows he knows he's won.

"And what would Nick say if he could see you like this? All mine, all mine..." he taunts.

"Huh?" I'm completely stupid, my body coming undone so suddenly around his dick with cries, screams, whimpers and everything inbetween. Nick was foreplay and I've no mental energy to remember any detail that isn't Mike's.

"Don't even know his name?" Mike laughs. "You can't even remember his name, can you?" he grins, his eyes narrow again as he tugs my hair and shoves himself in further.

"Uh uh," I pant in a high voice. My body shakes terribly, his pounding length already edging me once more as he continues abusing my spot. How on earth am I supposed to walk after this?

"Then let me help you remember his name," he says. "Say his name."

"Mike," I moan pathetically. I'm right back on that edge, crying and feeling as though I'll burst from overstimulation.

"Louder," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Say it louder. Say his name loud enough for him to hear you."

"Mike!" I scream it religiously as I come undone a second time, gripping him to the point I can feel how close he is too. I hear him laugh above me, his other hand now wrapping around my throat and choking me slightly.

"That's my name," he says with mocking gentleness. "Say his name or I won't finish."

"I don't remember," I sob. Jesus Christ, do I have problems? "Just want you!"

His face glows, his lips split into a wide grin of satisfaction.

"So you want me, do you, princess?"

I nod pathetically. He's throbbing, slamming into me hard enough it may draw a third climax in a row.

His laugh is cruel above me, his lips landing on top of mine in a wet, possessive kiss. His tongue fills my mouth, forcing me to take him as the sounds of him fucking me like a depraved animal makes me whine in desperation.

He pulls away, a long string of spit between us connecting our lips.

"Then I'll give you what you want, princess," he says. "But there's a price."

"Uh huh," I agree. My eyes roll back as my body twitches, barely able to focus as he thrusts into me.

"Look at me," he says patiently, tugging my hair once more. When I manage to remember how, he let's out a long 'aw,' smiling down at me with false sweetness as I stare dumbly into his eyes. I suppose I'm staring into his eyes. God, I'm stupid.

His thumb grazes my jaw, tutting as he examines my face closely.

"Your eyes are pretty...*" he says, his voice sweet and tender, almost like I've made him soft and vulnerable, but his cock pounding into me causes the beginning of a headache that won't let me forget how much we hate each other. "Your eyes are pretty, your mouth is pretty..."

I lick my lips and nod lightly.

"You are just such a pretty girl, aren't you?" He asks. I nod, my body twitching uselessly as my third climax washes over me.

"Good girl," he praises. "All fucked out over me. That's good."

Suddenly and without warning, he pulls out quickly and shoves my face down close to his cock, coming all over my face. It's thick and everywhere. In my hair, my mouth. I can't even open my eyes.

"Stay like that," Mike commands as he lays me on my back. His softening cock reenters me and pumps lazily, his purpose to make sure he's fully emptied.

"Any new thoughts?" He asks me in a strange tone, light and amused. I simply moan, relishing the moment. He chuckles and spreads my legs so he can better see what is happening between us. It isn't until I hear the chime of his camera confirming a recording that I realize what he's done.

"Mike?" I ask, barely able to think straight.

A low laugh escapes him, cruel but warm.

"I want to show your new boyfriend the real you," he says. "Make sure we're all on the same page here, right?

...Fuck me, I have problems.

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

Thanks for reading, pookies. See y'all in hell.

Masterlist

#yes nick is nick brady from paradise lost #i couldnt help myself #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fnaf #mike schmidt #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader smut #mike schmidt x you #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson fanfic

799 notes · View notes

going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 8 days

Text

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 30] || [Chapter 32]

Pairing: Soap x gn!Reader || Gaz x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.4K~ cw: love confessions. Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: Another cute one for the books, y'all.

Chapter 31: Uh-Oh.

Gaz came home early.

Some stuff in his mission that was, according to John 'above his paygrade'.

He wasn't particularly happy about it, mentioned to Johnny over the phone how it was 'bullshit', that it wasn't fair he didn't get to know.

Not that you'd know. Johnny knew. But you sure as hell didn't.

Because, as usual, you got home from work on Tuesday, and there was a wild Kyle Garrick in your apartment, sat shoulder-to-shoulder, knee-to-knee with Johnny on the sofa.

"Hi?" You greeted once you passed the door, carrying a couple bags of goods from the shop.

"Hi, bonnie!" Johnny greeted. "Look who's here!" He gestured at Kyle with grandeur.

"Hi, love!" Kyle greeted, all smiley and beautiful as only he can be.

"Are you okay? Did you get hurt again? Dear God, tell me you didn't get hurt!" You began to say immediately, as he got up from the couch, rounding it to come greet you.

"You should've warned me you'd come, I would've bought more things to make dinner, now I'm not gonna have enough for you and-" You ranted.

He shut you up, however, by cradling your face in his hands and dropping a kiss onto your lips, causing you to hum and soften, your eyes closing.

It was a slow kiss, one that told you just how much he missed you, his thumbs caressing your cheeks on either side, his nose brushing your cheek as his warm lips and wet tongue carefully probed at your mouth.

When he pulled back, he smiled at you. "It's alright. I'm alright. Don't worry so much." He murmured, then, his hands slid down and grabbed one of the bags off you, helping you take the shopping to the kitchen.

Having a second man to play house with was somehow better and worse.

There was also less space. Another part of your closet or your drawers full of male clothes, extra counter space in the bathroom taken up by his skincare and cologne, extra bath products in the shower.

There were more snacks in your pantry, protein bars and shakes and the like, energy drinks, another seat at the dinner table taken up by another laptop and notebook and pen, another set of shoes to trip on at the entrance.

The flat was still always clean, and there was always someone to greet you once you got home, sometimes dinner would already be ready.

There was always someone to cuddle to or be cuddled by, someone rutting into you and stealing greedy kisses and groping handfuls of your body...

Nothing to complain about, not really.

On Saturday, you crawled away from Johnny's embrace, padding around the flat, seeking food and a drink.

Kyle was in the kitchen when you came in, shirtless as usual, one of your bath towels falling off his hip, his skin glistening. You've noticed you tend to find Kyle right out of the shower often.

"Morning, lovie..." He greeted you as you approached, kissing your forehead and wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Hi..." You murmured and leaned into him, setting your chin right on his shoulder, feeling a bit of the dampness of his skin, and smelling the scent of his body wash and shampoo. Coconut.

"How are you feeling?" He murmured as he glanced at you, brown eyes twinkling to the sight of what was, indubitably messy hair and a sleepy face.

Your body was deliciously sore, your jaw too, though that one was more uncomfortable. A consequence of a night well spent, pressed between the two of them... They were younger than John and Simon, had more stamina... they were more insatiable.

"Good..." You ended up saying with a chuckle, which earned you a smirk too.

"Good enough to wanna go out with me?" He asked you with a cocked brow.

"Out where?" You asked him, eyebrows raising in intrigue.

"I have plans for the two of us this afternoon... as long as you're not too tired for them." He explained.

"Not going to make me do something physical, are you?" You quipped, causing him to chuckle, your jaw trembling from the contact between his pec and you head.

"No... Not after last night. Need a chill day myself." He winked at you.

As it turns out, Johnny isn't the only artist in your little polycule. (Can you even call it that?)

At 2 P.M., you found yourself in a little pottery studio-café thing that Kyle had, apparently, scouted out in Birmingham, one of the times he went home.

It was not something you expected, finding yourself walking in hand in hand with him, fingers interlaced, being given a smock and being given a lump of clay, a wheel, and having a very eccentric but adorable lady guide you through the steps of making small pinch pots, and your final piece, a mug.

After over an hour of that, you were allowed to wash your hands off, your projects (a very wonky mug made by you, and a surprisingly good mug made by Kyle) going to be put in the kiln, with a promise from the pottery instructor that they'll come out in the next day or so and that everyone could come back to get them, if they so wished.

Then, you and Kyled moved to a little table in the painting station where you could grab a finished piece of your own, a standard one, that is, and paint it to your heart's content.

You sat beside Kyle after he went and got you both drinks and a little snack each, each one of you busy painting your little projects. You picked a small plate and Kyle picked a mug, just like the ones you had been trying (and failing, mind you) to throw beforehand.

You glanced over at Kyle who was extremely focused on what he was doing, using the tiniest brush you've ever seen to dot small petals on the flower design he had chosen for his mug.

"That looks really cute... Is that cherry blossom?" You asked as you set your chin on his arm, his left one, not the one he was using to paint.

"Mhm... My attempt at it, anyway." He replied as he glanced over at your plate. "Polka dots?" He asks with a playful smile on his lips, which causes you to shrug.

"I didn't know what I wanted to paint. Flowers are overdone... No offense-" You chuckled.

"None taken." He replied and winked at you before leaning over and grabbing his paper cup, sipping his tea through the opening on the lid.

"And everything else would be too difficult. I'm in the mood to just draw little dots all over." You remarked with another shrug.

"Well, I like your dots." He told you and, very slowly, tapped the tip of your nose with his forefinger.

You felt something wet and sticky on the tip of your nose and you knew, immediately, that he had just painted your nose. You didn't even notice him dipping his finger in his paint palette beforehand.

You grabbed your phone and used the locked screen as a mirror to spot the bright pink dot of paint on your skin.

Turning to your boyfriend, you squinted at him. "Kyle Garrick, do you want to start a war you will not win?" You murmured as you pointed your paintbrush at him like a teacher with a ruler.

"No, no, never." Kyle murmured, raising his hands in surrender, though he had the biggest grin on his lips, and a shine in his brown eyes.

"That's what I thought." You added before you turned away to resume your painting.

Kyle snickered next to you, resuming his own painting, slowly painting the front of his mug, while holding it from the back with the greatest care in the world.

Unfortunately for him, he was too focused to catch the way you dipped your thumb in your own paint pallette, gathering your brightest red... And then dabbing it on his cheek twice, forming a heart shape.

Kyle turned to you with wide eyes, catching the same shit-eating grin in your lips, your teeth showing, before you started giggling. "Uh-oh..." You said, not at all ashamed of the revenge you just got on him.

Kyle shook his head at you, a smile on his own lips, before he leaned over, caught your face by the chin, and dropped a kiss on your lips. You melted into it, eyes closing and smiling against his mouth.

And, when he pulled away, he looked you in the eyes with the fondest look in his eyes, his head dipped at an angle before he whispered a: "God, I love you... What am I going to do with you?"

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling ,

@tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva ,

@emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes ,

@irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary ,

@leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @xxshadowbabexx , @severenswife , @enarien,

@agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind ,

@neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine ,

@kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 ,

@gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 ,

@kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust ,

@thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #141 x reader #gaz x reader

336 notes · View notes

astermath · 10 months

Text

unexpected guest *ੈ✩‧

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve isn’t too pleased when you come home with a stray kitten. money is tight, you’re both working full time, and he was never too fond of cats to begin with. somehow, you manage to convince him to keep it anyways.

word count: 1.7K

tags: established relationship, steve and reader are living together in Indianapolis, normal sized font below the cut!

notes: been a little unmotivated recently but nothing motivates me like imagining steve harrington holding a cute animal tbh. he always struck me as a dog type, but I feel like he’d enjoy cats too. thanks to @inkluvs for helping me decide on a title and rambling with me <3

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further steve harrington related content! requests are open!

The pitter patter of heavy rain made for an eerie symphony outside the apartment you shared with Steve. The air is foggy, humid, and it usually wouldn't make him feel this unsettled. No, in fact, he quite likes the rain. When he's inside at least, cuddled up with you on the couch to inevitably watch whatever you wanted on the TV.

But the apartment is empty, at an hour when it normally shouldn't be. Steve's eyes find the faint red glow of the oven's clock; you should have been home an hour ago. Worry settles in his stomach at the thought of all the reasons you could possibly be late. Maybe you were stuck somewhere, kidnapped, or worse.

His socked feet tread along your hardwood floor, pacing with his lip caught under his teeth. Steve knows you’re a capable woman who can handle herself, but you’re never late. He knows you’re always getting home as fast as you can, having missed him and your lovely apartment all day.

He's already reaching for the phone to call you when he hears the familiar jingle of your keys behind the door. A feeling of intense relief washes over him when you open the door and he's met with your beautiful appearance. Wet, messy, and disheveled, but beautiful.

He wastes no time, strong arms winding around you as soon as your coat is off, face buried in your soaked hair.

You chuckle, awkwardly shuffling one of your arms from in between the embrace to rub over his back.

"You're late." He mumbles into the crown of your head, before pressing a kiss into it.

"I know, I'm sorry, I just got really held up at work."

Steve frowns at your excuse. Your boss is really nice, and you're usually never back late. Plus, it's a Tuesday, the café you work at couldn't have been that busy, right?

That's when he notices your other hand, clutching a bag filled with what at first glance seems like random stuff and a blanket.

"Whatcha got there, hm?" He pulls away slightly, head tilting to motion to your mystery bag.

"Oh, nothing," you try your best at a convincing smile, "just some leftovers from work." You swallow, and when you meet your boyfriend's eyes he's giving you that look. It's the same one he gives you when you ate the last bit of ice cream, or when you try to get out of running errands. You suck at lying, you're both well aware of that.

The silence is broken when a soft, squeaky noise erupts from the bag. Your feeble attempt at covering it up with a forced cough is apparently not enough, because Steve is now reaching for the bag, wanting to see for himself what you'd brought in with you.

"N-No, Steve!" You pull your arm away, careful not to shuffle the bag around too much. Whatever was inside was probably fragile, he thought. "It's a, uhm... It's a-- a surprise!" You try to sneak past him to head to your bedroom, but he stops you by wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

"Honey," he leans his head down so his lips are close to your ear. If you weren't so focused on covering up what was in the bag, you were sure your knees would have buckled at the sound of his sultry voice, "you're gonna tell me what's in the bag, alright?"

Your shoulders drop slightly, a defeated sigh emitting from you as you turn around. "Will you promise not to get mad?"

"Sugar..." His brows furrow, already worried about what's it going to be.

"I'm serious," you look up at him with puppy eyes, "promise?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He could never deny you anything when you were looking at him like that. "Fine, promise. Just-- Just show me, alright?"

You crouch down, taking off the blanket that was pretty much drenched from the rain to reveal a box. You're really careful, hands a little shaky, and Steve's curiosity grows by the second.

Finally, you open up the box. He has to squint for a moment, not sure what he's seeing exactly, so he crouches down across you to have a better look.

In the corner of the box is a tiny lump of black fur, mewling surprisingly loud for its small size. Its blue eyes are almost entirely overtaken by the size of its pupils, and it's shaking a little from what he can only assume to be the cold.

"Baby, where did you--"

"Side of the road." You reached out to run a single finger under the kitten's chin, and it wobbles a little from the contact. It couldn't be more than a few weeks old. "It was all alone, sopping wet and shivering." You sniffle, and Steve's heart nearly shatters at the sight of you tearing up over it.

"It probably wouldn't have survived if I didn't do anything," a stray tear rolls down your cheek, "so I took it to the vet for an emergency checkup, got some wet cat food, and-- I don't know, I just... Look at it, Stevie."

The small feline stares at him, not scared, just curious as to who this large creature in front of it is. Steve frowns, resisting the urge to pet it before he starts to grow an actual attachment to it.

"Honey, you know we can't keep it..."

"Why not?" You sound hurt, but you know all the reasons why. First of all, Steve doesn't even like cats. He's always been a dog person, wanting to live out his six children fantasy with a golden retriever as a pet one day. Second of all, money is tight. You both work your asses off trying to save up for a better place someday, an actual house, and a pet can bring a lot of unforeseen costs with it. Yet something in you remains hopeful. That something is also aware of the effect you have on your boyfriend, and how convincing you can be.

He gives you a thin lipped smile in an attempt to comfort you, but you're not meeting his eyes. You're too focused on the little blessing in front of you, that you've already secretly named; Olive.

Steve tries to lean in and hug you, but suddenly, the kitten jumps out of the box and onto his lap. He feels its little baby claws go straight through the fabric of his sweatpants, wincing slightly at the feeling as he attempts to capture the little rascal in his hands. To no avail, as little Olive keeps climbing up his lap and onto his sweatshirt. It's surprisingly fast, for how tiny it is.

"H-Hey, come on now, this is my favorite sweater! You're puttin' holes in it you little demon!" Steve seems a little frazzled, not sure how to delicately handle an animal this small. It seems so tiny and fragile, yet it’s jumping around like it’s Spider-man or something.

You watch as your boyfriend continuously tries to remove the kitten from clawing at his sweater, and though you’re trying to be serious about convincing him and all that, it’s kind of hard when you’re looking at just about the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. You’re already so weak for the sight of Steve by himself, let alone accompanied by an adorable little cat.

Eventually he gets a hold of Olive, holding her up with his hands as it tries to gnaw at his fingers. “Oh you’re totally staying in air jail now young lady.” He glances over at you. “She’s a girl cat right?”

You nod, and he can tell you’re holding back your laugh.

“What?”

You snort. “Nothing, just— for someone who doesn’t want a cat, you already seem pretty attached.”

“Wha— I— Ow!” he winces when Olive starts digging her sharp little fangs into his thumb. He doesn’t let go of her though, still holding her up with a gentle grip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m just— disciplining her for the next person to get her.”

“Mhm, totally.” You grin, reaching out to pet the little black lump of fur he’s holding. She seems to respond much calmer to your touch. “Maybe… You wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of fostering her then?” You look up with those same puppy eyes again, and Steve thinks this is probably the deadliest combo he’s ever witnessed. Not only does he have to deal with your pleading gaze, but it’s now accompanied by the cutest little animal too. He’s only human, after all.

He sighs, carefully setting Olive back down into her box. He just looks at her for a second, surprised at how full of life she is. He always thought cats were lazy and indifferent to their surroundings, but this little one was practically bouncing off the walls.

“No—“ he starts.

“But Stevie!”

“Uh uh uh!” he holds up a finger, halting your sounds of protest. “You didn’t let me finish, sugar.”

You huff, rolling your eyes.

“I was gonna say, no,” he reaches out a single finger to scratch under Olive’s chin, “because I have a feeling we’re just going to keep her anyways.” His eyes return to yours, and he can see the hopeful glint in your expression. “You really like her, don’t you?”

You nod, smiling warmly. “Do you?”

“Well,” he wiggles finger, watching how she tries to play with it, “maybe she’s growing on me a little.”

“You love her.” You grin.

“Well, what can I say, I got a lot of love to give.�� He reaches out his arm to pull you close, wrapping around your shoulder and planting a kiss on your head. You both just sit there on the floor for a while, playing with your newfound pet until she gets all tuckered out.

“You know,” you speak softly, not wanting to wake her up, “I’m really glad you agreed to keep her.”

Steve smiles, eyes still watching Olive sleep so peacefully. The contrast to her previous hyper activeness is stark. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Well,” You leaned your head against his shoulder. “I have a feeling she’s going to fit in here well. Like a little family.”

His heart swells with warmth at the word ‘family’. You know that means a lot to him, and in a way, he agrees. It’s a great first step to building something more akin to a home.

“And… Maybe I already got her chipped and registered at the vet before I got here.”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course you did.”

“Love you.” you chuckle, knowing he’s going to forgive you for your impulsiveness either way.

He kisses your head once more. “Love you too.”

tag list <3

@palmtreesx3

670 notes · View notes

humanityinahandbag · 10 months

Text

Steddie: Wayne the Matchmaker (Part 1?)

Wayne wasn't born yesterday.

He knows full well that his nephew, his boy, is far gone for the Harrington kid. Knows it in the way he sighs, the way he drapes himself over the couch. Knows it in the way lyrics pour out of Eddie's room while he tries to write songs (just last Tuesday he heard Eddie muttering goddammit what rhymes with chest hair from behind his bedroom door).

So it isn't much of a surprise to see Eddie swooning quietly by the front door as he shoves his feet into ratty sneakers, a red car waiting in the driveway. Government hush money had been enough for Wayne to take less shifts, to put some away for Eddie's future, and to buy a modest one floor ranch house on a tree lined street closer to his boy's new friends.

Including the one currently walking carefully around the newly planted posies towards the front door.

"You seein' that Harrington boy again?" he asks.

Eddie's face went pink, and he ducked down pretending to look through his backpack for something. "Yeah," he says behind a curtain of hair. "We're going to the movies."

"S'nice. What are you seein'?"

"Uh, the new David Bowie thing. Labyrinth."

Wayne ignores how Eddie phrases it, like he hadn't been bouncing off the walls to see that little David Bowie Thing when the posters first showed up outside Melvalds. "Doesn't much seem his taste. He choose it?"

"Yeah, he-" Eddie stops and looks up. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't do that," Eddie says, fixing his Uncle with a frosty stare. "I know what you're doing, and we're just- we're friends. He's- he likes his ex. You should see them, honestly. They're like, perfect together. Dream couple." As if Wayne didn't hear the sorrow behind his tone.

"Mmmhm," says Wayne. "You sure?"

Eddie didn't get a chance to rebuttal when the door was knocked. Wayne opens it before he could.

"Hi, sir." Always polite this one. Steve's wearing a polo shirt and light wash jeans. It all looks newly pressed. And if he breathes in- yup. That's definitely cologne. "Uh, I'm here for Eddie?"

"Yeah, he's here. You wanna come in-"

"He doesn't." Eddie pops out from behind the door, glaring over his shoulder at Wayne. "C'mon, Stevie! We'll miss the previews!"

"Bye, Mr. Munson!" Steve calls over his shoulder. He grabs Eddie by the back of the collar, tugging him backwards, laughing and racing him to the car.

And well. This just wouldn't do.

Wayne never pretended to know a whole lot about love. He'd had his flings back in the day, but life had given him more curveballs than he'd been able to catch at once.

Not that he was complaining. Eddie was one of the best things that had ever happened to him.

But dammit if he didn't want the kid falling down the same hole he had.

Eddie deserves love. And Wayne figures that a few gentle nudges wouldn't hurt.

It starts with simple suggestion.

The next time Steve is at the front door, Wayne makes sure to distract Eddie with a well timed, "fix your hair," that had him scrambling for the bathroom, leaving Wayne alone with the Harrington boy.

"Steve," he says.

"Mr. Munson! Nice to see you. Um, we're just going to the arcade-"

"He likes sticky hands."

Steve blinks. "Sorry?"

"If you're gonna win him anything, get him one'a those sticky hands. It'll be hell on me, but he loves'm."

Steve nods, like it was precious information, perking up when Eddie breaks out of the bathroom.

When they get back, Eddie is considerably pinker, slapping everything around the house with a stupid pink sticky hand on a string.

"Steve won it for me," he says, as if daring Wayne to take it away.

Wayne only cracks another beer.

(He tells himself over and over that this is for the pursuit of love, even when he wants to shove Eddie out a window the fourth time a very sticky hand thwacks him on the back of his bald head.)

"He likes sunflowers," Wayne says the next time he sees Steve, which just so happens to be a week before graduation. Steve had arrived with a cake. A cake he baked. From scratch. Eddie had run to get his camera to take a picture and that was when Wayne got his chance.

Steve looks up at Wayne owlishly. "Sorry?"

"Sunflowers," Wayne repeats. "If you get him flowers for graduation, that's what he likes."

Steve nods seriously, brow drawn in thought. "Cool," he says finally. "Sunflowers."

Eddie gets sunflowers for graduation. He presses one of the petals between the pages of The Hobbit.

"Still think he's just a friend?" Wayne asks from the doorway.

Eddie traces the petal and closes the book. "It's enough," he says.

Wayne gives his nephew a long look. "You're allowed to like him."

"I know."

"No. You're allowed to like him," Wayne says again. "Like him like you like him."

Eddie stares at the petal. "I know," he says. And then; "I love him."

"I know," says Wayne and bundles Eddie into a hug.

Wayne gets to a point where he could gnaw through the walls of their new home, which he won't do, because Claudia Henderson chose the wallpaper and chewing on furniture is mostly frowned upon. But by god does he want to.

Wherever Eddie is, Steve follows. He appears at their front door to take Eddie on hikes. When he heard Eddie never learned to swim, he takes him to the quarry and Eddie comes back damp and flushed and Wayne guesses it has something to do with the shirtless boy in the driveway.

And yet through it all, Eddie doesn't see.

He doesn't see the long looks or the careful touches. Doesn't grasp the meaning behind Steve appearing one night with a bag of groceries and a smile and an announcement of I'm cooking you dinner! before making the best damn lasagne Wayne's ever had.

Instead, Eddie fawns and sighs and does everything he can to make Steve happy. Dotes and compliments and builds him up until Steve is red and spluttering and beaming.

Eddie is a good boy. Wayne raised a good boy, who loves fiercely and wholly, but somehow didn't think he was worth the same trouble.

And. Well. That just wouldn't do.

Wayne wants time to come up with some kind of a plan, but fate was a sporadic fucking asshole and chose for him. Which is how Wayne finds himself answering the phone on a Thursday to hear Steve's voice on the other line.

"Mr. Munson?"

"Steve. Eddie ain't home. He's at band practice."

"Oh," Steve says. "Right, uh. Can you tell him that I called?"

Wayne thinks a moment. "I can," he says, slowly. "But first, I'd like to talk to you."

A long pause. He can practically hear Steve sweating on the other line. "Me?"

"You," says Wayne. "S'only that you've been here an awful lot lately. Eddie's taken a real shine to you. You know that?"

"He's one of my closest friends, Mr. Munson."

"Mmmhm. An' I'm glad for him. But I don't mean like that."

He hears Steve suck in a breath on the other end. "Oh."

"Not that it's any of my business, an' maybe these old eyes are seein' things, but I catch you lookin' from time to time. Then again, I'm just an' old man-"

"You're not that old," Steve says. "And. Your eyes work great. Probably better than mine."

Good first step. Buttering up the parents.

"So. Just so we're on the same page, Mr. Munson. Eddie told me that you know about him. That he likes. Um. Yunno."

"Men."

"Yeah," says Steve, relieved. "Yeah, men, right. And so I was thinking the other day that I'm a man!"

"So you are," says Wayne.

"And it came to my attention a few months ago that people can like both. Which is- which is crazy. But I guess it's not so crazy. I used to work in an ice cream store and people would order the weirdest combos. Like... strawberry and pistachio? And I'd say, you can't like both! But then Robin told me I could."

"Steve."

"Right. So anyway. I've been spending all this time with Eddie. But I wasn't really sure. I mean, he can like men. But that doesn't mean he'd like my type of man. That I am. Man-wise."

Wayne hums. "And if I told you he did like your type of man? Man wise?"

"I'd probably ask if he liked Italian or Chinese, sir."

Outside Wayne can hear Eddie's van rolling back down the street. "He likes lo mein. No onions."

"Okay," breathes Steve.

"And even if he looks like an angry alley cat, the boy likes romance. You hear me, son? Candles, flowers, showin' up at windows."

"I can do that," says Steve. "I'm great at romance."

Eddie's car rolls into the driveway and Wayne looks out the window, waving to Eddie as he cuts the engine and the music and steps out. His boy stops to carefully step over the flowers first, waving back.

His good boy, who pours love out until he's empty and never complains. He deserves to have it poured back.

"You're welcome anytime, Steve," says Wayne earnestly. "Anyone who makes my boy as happy as he is- you're welcome anytime."

Eddie walks in as Wayne hangs up. "Who was that?"

Wayne tugs him into a hug. "No one," he says. And then, "go shower. You smell like Gareth's garage."

"Like a goddamn rockstar, you mean?" Eddie ducks away from a swat and laughs, running down the hall.

Like a kid in love, Wayne thinks, and turns on the game.

With ao3 being down (pour one out, I'm donating my life savings once they're back up) I got feral enough to write a one shot on here. I can't update my other Wayne Matchmaker fic. So. Yunno. This will have to do for now.

Does this need a part 2? You tell me.

LONGER, EDITED VERSION NOW ON AO3!

(IF I POST A PART 2 IT WILL BE THERE :D)

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie oneshot #boys in love #eddie munson #steve henderson #uncle wayne #wayne munson #good uncle wayne #eddie munson the gremlin #pour one out for ao3 #we miss you #we'll never take you for granted again #my god i'm feral #sticky hands

484 notes · View notes

leidensygdom · 4 days

Text

Ok, I'm gonna start a post idea I had been pondering. If you're either mentally or physically disabled and you have opinions about representation, this is the thread for you!

So, I've been seeing more people trying to tackle the topic of autism in their stories, but I've felt some of it tries to woobify a bit what is to live with autism, or just focus on the more socially acceptable quirks of it. And as someone with autism/ADHD (was suspected of it for most of my life, got it finally diagnosed by my therapist (who specializes in autism and ADHD) last year), sometimes I'd like for people to acknowledge the more unsavoury parts of it, the weird quirks, etc.

So, this post is going to be about that- If you wanna help people understand how your disability/neurodivergency affects your life, feel free to add to it! Just mention what do you have (no need for a full list, just what you consider relevant to the post) and some experiences, quirks, anecdotes or such that you think that are not often seen in stories or media, and that you consider an important part of it. They don't need to be huge things! I encourage people to share just whatever they feel comfortable. My list is gonna be a mix of stuff, but yours can be very different. Let me start!

Clothes and how they feel was surprisingly one of the most disruptive parts of my autism. As a kid, if I was forced to wear something that caused me some bad texture/sensitivity issues, it would significantly affect my behaviour and performance. It took me many years to be allowed to use mostly sportswear. (And it turns out being a "girl" (not anymore) wearing only sportswear tends to cause a whole lot of bullying)

This happens even nowadays. I've found out that non-heeled boots are more comfortable to me than sport shoes, because feeling something against the back of my foot makes me feel overwhelmed. I tend to wear yoga pants under actual pants, because they keep the actual pants' seams from causing sensory issues. There's almost a sort of ritual on how do I need to combine clothes to be able to function "normally", mostly consisting on reducing how much they annoy me.

On that topic, hygiene is actually a huge thing too. As a kid, I wasn't allowed to shower daily. Days I didn't shower, no matter how much I tried to keep my hygiene in other days, were "bad days" to me. I would literally plan hanging out with friends or eating out around the days I was allowed to shower. I could physically feel the difference between the day I showered and the day I didn't (even if I washed my face, armpits, used the bidet, etc).

This is true even nowadays. I can thankfully now shower daily, which isn't recommended by a lot of experts (specially because it can damage your hair and skin), but it's more worth to me than having days where I feel like I shouldn't be seen in public.

Being overwhelmed sucks! Meltdowns are mostly associated with kids, mostly because adults either learn to mask them, or do everything they can to AVOID having that meltdown. I've mostly figured out routines and such. There's this one place we go eat out every other Tuesday- And in the hours we go in, there's a sort of silent corner that is always free. This week's schedule was a mess, so we went yesterday to that same place, and the silent corner was filled with a very loud group. I got extremely overwhelmed. But enough masking drilled to me means I just sat there unable to talk for maybe 30 minutes.

Autistic adults still do have autism and experience often the full spread of traits, they've just found ways to mask, or avoid being in situations where they do need to do that. I've adapted my life and routine to that. But sometimes I land on situations out of my comfort zone that will make me feel just like when I was a kid. I want to freelance online because I'm fully aware I can't perform properly in a public facing job.

Group projects sucked so much. I know they suck for most people, but most times it was easier for me to do the entirety of the project by myself and add the others' names to it than dealing with chasing people for their parts. My college had a 6-months-long massive group project in the last year, with a 7 people group, which obviously I couldn't do alone. The whole experience was so harmful in so many ways I've had several full therapy sessions talking about it :'')

One of the reasons it's because mental flexibility is HARD with autism. If i set a schedule, I expect that schedule to be followed. If people agree to do a part, I expect that part to be delivered (unless there's a proper reason) on due time. People hate this a lot usually! It will tear group projects apart!

Stimming can be harmless, or it can be very annoying to some. I tend to shake legs and play with something in my hands. I could easy this off drawing in classes- My high school found out that I was paying more attention when I was allowed to draw in classes, and my academic performance was pretty much perfect, so they gave me permission to do that.

However, I had a teacher in middle school that did forbid me from drawing. I stimmed during a class with pens- She got so mad she sent me home with a note to my parents they had to sign. Fun!

Not exactly an anecdote, but I am ace. I hate the discourse about "making an autistic person be aro or ace is infantilizing autism". Aro/ace people can have autism. That's just how it is. I've been infantilized a lot for being ace- Which only got worse because I am autistic, and people perceived some of my special interests as child-ish. The combo didn't make things easy.

On that topic, people will often be very patronizing of your opinions or takes for being autistic. I've had people debate my sexuality (or lack of thereof), my gender identity and presentation, my hobbies, my preferences for everything, down to "what do you want to eat tonight?". This isn't too different to shitty takes about how "autistic people are more prone to being affected by the trans activistsTM", because people assume autistic people can't choose on their own. Trust me: We can.

Anyhow, I'd love if this post could be a good compilation of these sort of anecdotes! I think it could help people who wanna learn more about what is it to live with specific disabilities (and how to better portray them in media)

#nd #neurodivergent #neurodiversity #disability #disabled #autism #adhd #neurodivergencies #long post

78 notes · View notes

katsu28 · 2 years

Text

dinner buddies

summary: Eddie can’t make it in time for dinner, so you decide to find someone else to share your cooking with.

warnings: light swearing, so much fluff

a/n: i hope this is good bc i’m quite literally drowning in unfinishable wips right now :') but hi hello i'm back to trying to write after a scarily long bout of self doubt and writer's block! pls enjoy this fluff as my apology <3

masterlist + taglist

(gif found on pinterest!)

You were half contemplating just turning tail and going back home as you climbed the steps of the Munson’s trailer, arms laden with bags of groceries making it a little harder to keep yourself steady on the creaky stairs.

Eddie was supposed to come to your place for dinner, but had called you from the high school saying that Hellfire Club was running a lot longer than usual and that he might not make it to yours anytime soon, so you were stuck with a fridge full of ingredients for dinner and no one to make it for.

That was, until an idea popped into your head.

So now here you were, standing outside the trailer, knocking on the door to see if Wayne wanted to be your dinner buddy for tonight. You remembered Eddie telling you that Wayne worked the earlier shift on Tuesdays, so you knew he was home. The hard part now was gaining the courage to ask him. It wasn’t like you were scared of Eddie’s uncle, you’d just never really spent time with him without your boyfriend around. But it was something you wanted to change.

Before you could chicken out and turn around, the door swung open slowly to reveal a weary looking Wayne Munson peering out at you.

“Hey, kiddo,” He looked pleasantly surprised to see you, but still confused as to why you were here. “Whatcha doin’ round these parts? Eddie’s not here, if that’s who you’re looking for. Think he might still be with that club of his.”

“Yeah, we were supposed to have dinner but he called me earlier to tell me. I was, um, I was wondering if you’d eaten dinner yet?” You asked timidly, shifting on your feet.

“Oh, I was just gonna heat up some pizza from the other day. Why, what did you have in mind?”

“Do you maybe wanna have dinner together? I was supposed to make spaghetti for Eddie and I, but since he’s held up, I was wondering if I could make it…for you.” Wayne was silent for a moment, and suddenly you weren’t sure if you were overstepping any bounds by showing up here unannounced, so you quickly backtracked. “Only if you want, though. I know you probably had a long day at work and I totally get if you’d rather have some alone time before Eddie comes home—”

“Spaghetti sounds fantastic, kiddo.” He chuckled, opening the door a little wider and reaching out to relieve you of one of the bags in your hands. “Come on in.”

You beamed, shuffling inside and beelining right for the kitchen to drop your stuff on the counter before washing your hands.

Stationing himself at the counter while you prepped and cooked, Wayne kept insisting he help you with something, but after you kept telling him to relax, reluctantly gave up. Instead, he watched you bustle around the tiny kitchen like a whirlwind, occasionally snagging a handful of cheese or a noodle when he thought you weren’t looking. (You noticed every single time, but he thought he was being slick, just like his nephew.)

Wayne was a quiet guy—a lot quieter than his lovably rowdy nephew—but he was good company, entertaining you with countless stories of Eddie when he was younger as you cooked, some of which made you laugh so hard you nearly keeled over. Stories that you’d definitely be using as blackmail against your boyfriend sometime in the future.

Speaking of the future, that was one topic Wayne brought up as you were waiting for the pasta water to boil.

“So…you and Ed, you’ve been together a while,” He said awkwardly, drumming his fingers on the counter. It sounded like he didn’t quite know how to approach the subject, but was trying his best, and you appreciated his effort. “How’s that going?”

You beamed, bobbing your head happily at the mention of your Eddie. “Good! Really good. He’s the best boyfriend a girl could ask for.”

“That’s great to hear. And Ed, he’s treating you good? I have no doubt in my mind that he does, or else I’d whack him upside the head, but I gotta ask.”

“He’s amazing, Wayne. You did an incredible job raising him. He’s always saying how lucky he is that he’s always had you, and he’s right.” You replied earnestly, placing a hand over his. And you meant it. Despite all the ways Eddie could’ve turned out with the things he’d been through, he’d always had one constant in his life.

His uncle.

The man who took him in without a second thought when Eddie’s parents had dropped him on Wayne’s doorstep all those years ago.

The man who worked late nights, odd hours, and shitty jobs just so Eddie could have a decent childhood. Who bought him his first guitar, went to any Corroded Coffin gig that he could, and sat through Eddie’s endless D&D rants—not knowing what the hell he was babbling on and on about, but listened because it made Eddie happy.

The man who was more of a father to him than Eddie’s good-for-nothing jackass of a dad ever was (Eddie’s words, not yours).

You could tell that your words had touched the older man because of the way he fiddled with his fingers—just like Eddie did whenever you said something that made him feel loved.

“Thank you, kiddo.” He said quietly, patting your hand. “Eddie’s lucky to have someone like you lookin’ after him. I guess now I am too, what with this absolute feast you’re making.”

“You’re gonna make me cry, and it’s not gonna be pretty, Wayne!” You let out a watery chuckle, turning to toss the pasta into the now boiling water so the older man wouldn’t see you start to tear up at his kind words.

Soon enough, the whole trailer was filled with a mouthwatering array of smells—rich tomato sauce with garlic and herbs, fresh pasta, buttery garlic bread. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if the entire trailer park was able to smell what you’d cooked.

“This…this looks fantastic, Y/N.” Wayne said softly, blinking down at the steaming plate of food in front of him like he wasn’t quite sure where to start. “Thank you for cooking for this old man.”

“Oh, Wayne, you’re not that old,” You chided, passing him a hearty piece of garlic bread. “And it was my pleasure. I really like to cook, and Eddie really likes to eat, so…”

Wayne gave an all-knowing grin, shaking his head fondly. “Don’t I know it. I used to be worried that boy would eat us out of house and home when he was younger. Still do, honestly. Ed’s got a black hole for a stomach, I swear.”

“Wonder where he gets it from?” You snickered, to which Wayne let out a booming laugh that pleasantly surprised you.

“You’re a real spitfire, aren’t ya, kiddo?”

“I like to see it as Eddie rubbing off on me,” You shrugged. “Which he probably got from you. So really, who’s to blame here?”

The older man sighed overdramatically, bowing his head in mock defeat. “That would be me, I assume.”

“I won’t confirm nor deny that statement.” You smiled sweetly, picking up your fork. “Dig in!”

-------

You’d both finished your food and were exchanging more Eddie stories by the time you heard heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs outside. Then the door banged open loudly, Eddie’s slightly winded and panicked voice filling the trailer immediately.

“Speak of the devil,” Wayne sighed, barely heard over his nephew’s incomprehensible rambling. You stifled a laugh at his faux exasperation. “I can’t understand a word you’re sayin’, Ed!”

“Sorry I can’t stay long, Uncle Wayne, I’m already super late and Y/N’s—” Eddie came to a screeching halt when he spotted you sitting across the table from his uncle, both of you with empty plates in front of you. “...here. She’s—you’re here. What—hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi Eds!” You chirped, pushing back your chair to come greet him with a kiss on the cheek.

He accepted your kiss welcomingly, arms sliding around your waist in an automatic hug like they always did when he saw you. “What’re you doing here?”

“Hangin’ out with Wayne. We’re dinner buddies now.” You said it so casually, like it was a common thing for you to hang out with his uncle when Eddie wasn’t there. Eddie’s gaze slipped over to Wayne, who just nodded back.

“Hello to you too, boy,” He grumbled, but there was a small smile on his face nonetheless.

“Hi Uncle Wayne.” Eddie mumbled sheepishly, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “I would say sorry I’m late, but you seem to have found some better company.”

“Come sit down, baby, I’ll get you some food,” You nudged him towards the table, stifling a giggle at the way he tripped over his own boots in his haste to kick them off and hurry to take a seat. “Seconds, Wayne? There’s more than enough here. Probably even enough to last you both a few meals.”

“I couldn’t possibly eat any more, kiddo, but thank you.” Wayne sighed, patting his stomach for good measure. Eddie squinted at his uncle, then you, then back at Wayne in pure confusion. “You just gonna stare at me, or d’you got somethin’ you wanna say?”

“Did you—did she come over here on her own, or did you call her?”

“Now how would I call her, Ed? She came here ‘round seven, sayin’ that you were held up and asked if I wanted to have dinner together. Obviously, I’m not one to say no to a nice home cooked dinner, so I said yes.”

Eddie couldn’t help the wide grin that broke his face, casting a glance over at you at the stove scooping some pasta onto a plate for him and feeling his heart grow three sizes in his chest. God, you really were the most perfect person alive.

“Here you go, love.” You slid the hearty plate of food in front of him, pressing a kiss to the side of his head before settling back into your seat. “Now, what were we talking about before this one barged in?”

“I believe I was telling you how Ed used to run around with his pants on his head.”

“Hey!” Eddie spluttered through a mouthful of garlic bread, gawking at his uncle incredulously. “That’s so not cool!”

“Hush, eat your dinner, boy.”

Eddie turned to you with wide eyes. “Baby, don’t believe a word he says, he—”

“Listen to Wayne, Eds, eat your spaghetti.” You hummed sweetly, patting his knee with a smile.

“You guys are so mean to me.”

-------

Later, after Eddie had finished huffing and puffing about ‘my girl and my uncle ganging up on me’ and devoured two more plates of food (bottomless pit for a stomach, indeed), dinner had been packed away with firm instructions from you on how to reheat it the best way. The dishes were done and drying, leaving Wayne to retire outside to the porch for a smoke.

The second the door swung shut behind him, Eddie all but tackled you, sweeping you into his arms and planting a messy kiss on your lips. You let out a surprised noise, but instantly returned it with much fervor, brain on autopilot. His hands splayed across the expanse of your back, pulling you as close as possible to him whilst you kissed, while yours clutched at his biceps to ground yourself.

It was hard not to get lost in Eddie when he kissed you, with how much of himself and his love for you he poured into them. Sometimes felt like you’d float away if he kissed you for too long. You wouldn’t exactly mind it too much, to be honest.

“What was that for?” You asked incredulously after he’d pulled away, bringing your hands from his arms to his shoulders to steady yourself after his kiss had chased the breath right out of your chest.

“I love you so much.” He said earnestly, pressing another peck to your lips as if to reinforce his proclamation.

“I love you too, Eds. You know that.”

“I do! I do. I just—” He let out a dreamy sigh, squeezing your hip. “Thank you.”

“For loving you?” You giggled, reaching up to brush a stray inky curl out of his face.

“No—well, yeah. But for everything. For loving me so good like you do, for thinking of Wayne when I’m not here. For being the girl of my dreams.” Eddie continued, looking more serious than you’d ever seen him before. “My perfect, sweet girl, always takin’ care of us. Should hurry up and marry you now before you come to your senses and run for the hills, shouldn’t I?”

“Oh, stop it, you kiss ass,” You huffed playfully, slapping his chest lightly.

“I think Uncle Wayne would agree. He might love you more than he loves me now.”

You laughed at that. “You’re so dramatic, baby. You’re his family, of course he loves you more.”

“I dunno ‘bout that anymore, not after today. Hell, you made him a gourmet meal, sweetheart! I’ve never made him a home cooked meal. Not like that, anyways. Most of my stuff ends up tossed out so we don’t get food poisoning.”

“It’s the thought that counts, right?”

“That’s what I say! He doesn’t see it that way though. Always grumbling about how I’m trying to send him to an early grave,” Eddie pouted childishly.

“You are trying to send me to an early grave, boy!” Wayne’s voice came drifting in through the open window, to which Eddie swore. “Don’t act like you’re not dyin’ to get rid of me!” You both knew he was just poking fun at his nephew, but Eddie rolled his eyes, burrowing deeper into your embrace to alleviate his hurt ego.

“Aw, did baby boy’s feelings get hurt?” You teased, squishing his cheeks together until his lips puckered almost comically. He struggled to still look upset, but it was no use with the way you were looking at him right now. Your smile turned his over exaggerated pout into a soft smile of his own. To him, your smile could make the clouds disappear on a dreary day.

“Super hurt.” He nodded, mock serious. “Know what would make me feel better?”

“I think I can guess, but tell me anyway.”

“A kiss.”

“Another one?!”

“Yes, another one!” Eddie huffed, shuffling the two of you over to the kitchen counter, where he nudged you onto the countertop with ease. “There’s no such thing as too many kisses in this relationship, sweetheart. Unlimited kisses or I’ll die. You don’t want me to die, do you?”

“I guess not.”

“You guess? C’mere, you little minx,” He growled playfully, pressing his lips against yours firmly. You were quick to sink into his kiss yet again, cupping his face in your hands to bring him even closer. And while Eddie always kissed you like he was trying to let you know how much he loved you, this one felt different. This one felt a little more special, and you wanted to bask in it for as long as you could.

As long as you could turned out to be not very long at all, the loud thwack of the front door banging against the wall breaking through the silence.

“Alright, simmer down, you two. I don’t need no mini Munsons runnin’ around anytime soon,” Wayne chided, very clearly back from his night smoke. “Still takin’ care of this one over here.”

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie groaned, cheeks flaming hot under your fingertips. The older Munson merely waved his hand aimlessly in response, shuffling toward the bathroom and muttering something about how the two of you better take your lovey dovey party into Eddie’s room before he got back from getting ready for bed. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment, letting his forehead thunk against your shoulder miserably. “I’m sorry about him. He’s—”

“He’s just like you, Eds.” You said softly, smoothing a fond hand along his curls. Eddie made an indignant noise. “Funny, caring, heart of gold. Rough exterior but a total teddy bear on the inside?”

“I’m definitely better looking though.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course you are,” You rolled your eyes playfully, to which he whisked you off the countertop with a growled hmph, marching the two of you down the hall to his room to toss you onto his bed like you were a sack of flour.

The rest of the night was spent talking, telling Eddie embarrassing stories of yourself when you were younger to remedy the ones that Wayne had told you about him. Sleepy whispered I love you’s pressed against each other’s skin right before you fell asleep wrapped in his arms, just the way you liked it.

Soon enough, you popping over to the trailer to hang out with Wayne more often became a frequent thing, Eddie many times returning home to see the two of you sitting on the couch outside on the porch or huddled around the kitchen table, sipping hot drinks while telling each other more embarrassing stories about him. And although he wasn’t too keen on his uncle telling you about all the times he used to run around naked as a kid, he really did enjoy seeing the two most important people in his life growing closer.

Even if it did result in him being unfairly ganged up on at times.

taglist!

@wittiestrain184 @pastel-abyss-x @milkiane @liltimmyst @lilygreennn @nia-um @pinkdaiisies @idli-dosa @mrstealuregirl @maciiiofficial @oliviah-25 @scoopsahoykeery @eddiesquinn @bubsonnobx @yearningforeddiemunson

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things netflix #wayne munson #eddie stranger things #joseph quinn

1K notes · View notes

thot-of-khonshu · 1 year

Note

Hey dear! I come here just to say you’re one of the best steven grant’s writer that I read. I love read all of your creations.

And…

Can I make a request? With our adorable Steven Grant?

I scrolled my Twitter page and this video come for me (is a porn) and I just thought “Jesus… This is so Steven…” so, if you could write something inpired on this video, you’ll made my day! Thank you!

https://twitter.com/onion__01/status/1620325227669630979?s=46&t=o0oCMHCi2SZ92eYmhY9NeA

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR SWEET, KIND WORDS!! Your wish is my command from such a hot, hot video.

When The Mood Strikes

Steven Grant x f!reader

Fresh out of the shower, you decide to give Steven the surprise ride of his life.

Mature 18+

You never know when the mood strikes. Sometimes it’s on a mundane Tuesday night after black bean burgers and white wine. You'd both settled for the evening, Steven taking to his books on the couch and you taking a warm shower to wash off a long day.

When you'd padded out of the shower in just your towel, you took a peek around the corner to see Steven hunched over, incredibly invested in his Egyptian theory book. His curls tousled down his forehead after his own long day, his glasses placed atop his strong nose. His mouth slightly open as he reviewed new discoveries.

There was something so incredibly sexy about when Steven was in the heat of learning.

You dropped your towel, slinking over to him as he still had his nose in the book. You slid next to him on the couch, facing him and purred out a "hi."

"Hi darling, you won't believe what I jus--" He stopped in his tracks when he saw you. Wet, naked and like a fucking dream for him to behold.

Wordlessly, you take the book from him as he adjusts his glasses and you see the lump in his throat bob. You put the book on your nightstand while Steven slides his trousers down.

When you come back to the couch, his cock is out. He's already semi-erect, aching for your relief as you move your legs around his body to straddle him.

You fasten yourself on his cock, rubbing against his shaft that thickens at every move.

"Do you mind if I do everything myself tonight?" You ask. He's looking up at you in awe as if you're a rare statue. He's immobile, shaking his head. His eyes haven't left your face.

You take him, now fully erect and guide him into your wet entrance. Steven whimpered as you fully took him in. You moved at a slow, steady pace above him, removing his glasses and pulling him in for a deep kiss.

Steven moans below you. "Fuck, fuck. This is amazing. You're amazing, I'm gonna--"

"Don't cum just yet, Steven. We're just getting started." You quicken your pace, moving his hands to your breasts. It's getting to be too much for him. The tight wetness of your pussy, your pace slamming his cock into you.

It doesn't take long for Steven to finish inside of you with a groan, leaking out of your folds as you writhe against him, riding out your own orgasm.

Steven kisses and caresses at your nipples, still out of breath from giving all of his cum to you.

"I could definitely do with more surprises like that." He grins at you.

#steven grant #steven grant smut #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant x fem!reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #moon knight smut #moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfic #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac fanfic #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac x you

742 notes · View notes

loveroftoomanyfandoms · 6 months

Text

Cooking Up Love, Chapter 12

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: T

Story Summary: Here

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, idiots in love, angst

Word Count: ~1800

A/N: It's time for Mega Angst, which means we have 2 more chapters to go until our resolution!

Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock @mattkinsella @bellaxgiornata @danzer8705 @chezagnes @shouldbestudying41 @thepunisherfrankcastle @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @roseslovedreams

"Hey, Ellison is looking for you," Skyler said on Friday morning. "He said he wanted to talk to you about something."

"Oh, okay, thanks," you replied.

Skyler eyed you. "Still haven't heard from Chef Hottie?"

You shook your head. "Nope. I tried texting Matt yesterday just to let him know that I'd be emailing a copy of my article to him after Ellison approved it and never got a response."

Skyler frowned. "Well that's shitty."

"Told you he'd ditch you as soon as it was all over," Kelsie said as she walked up. "Although I'm surprised he didn't at least wait until your article came out."

She let out a snide laugh. "He must've really not been into you."

Your heart twisted. After rehashing the events of your blind tasting with Skyler on Tuesday you had allowed yourself a small glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe , Matt had been genuine with you, but once again Kelsie had come along to squash it.

You swallowed and shook your head. "It really doesn't matter what Chef Murdock thinks of me personally. I'm still going to write the truth about him."

"And that's why you'll be stuck writing puff pieces your entire career." Kelsie shrugged. "Well, I better get busy. James is picking me up early for our weekend away and I don't want to be rushing to get things done last-minute."

Skyler scowled as Kelsie sauntered away. "One day… One day I'm going to go off on her, and I promise you, it won't be pretty."

She turned to you. "You okay?"

You nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm gonna go ahead and go see Ellison. I'll catch up with you later."

You headed towards Ellison's office, knocking on the doorframe when you reached the threshold. "Hey, you wanted to see me?"

Ellison nodded and gestured towards the couch opposite him. "Yeah, take a seat."

Oh, shit. Sitting was never good news. Sitting indicated Serious Conversation that usually resulted in someone getting reprimanded -- or worse.

You swallowed nervously as you sat. "What's up?"

Ellison reached for a stapled set of papers -- papers you recognized as the copy of your article that you had set on his desk Wednesday afternoon and had been waiting for feedback on. "I want to talk to you about your article."

You didn't notice any red markings on it, but you weren't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

A dozen thoughts flew through your mind, none of them good. Did he hate my article and I need to rewrite the entire thing? Am I being reassigned? Did Matt call to complain about me having been unprofessional somehow and that's why I haven't heard from him?

Ellison peered up at you above his glasses. "Remember when I told you not to make me regret agreeing to give you a raise?"

You nodded, your heartbeat quickening. "Uh huh."

"Well…" Ellison grinned at you. "There's a reason I told you that you're my best reporter, and it's because of articles like this."

A wave of relief washed over you. Oh, thank God. "You liked it?"

"Liked it? I loved it." Ellison shook his head. "In fact, I think this is the best article I've read in a very long time."

A slow smile spread across your face. "Really?"

Ellison nodded. "I knew if anyone on staff would be able to get Chef Murdock to open up, it would be you. I feel like I've gotten to know him through your writing -- that bit about him volunteering to cook for the soup kitchen at Clinton Church every Sunday after the restaurant closes? It's almost like I was there with the two of you. The descriptions of the dishes you tried at his restaurant? I could almost taste them myself."

He flipped to the second page. "And that final line? 'Chef Murdock's professionalism, masterful culinary skills, and obvious love and care that he puts into his cooking all combine to create a delicious recipe for success' ? Probably the best closing sentence I've ever read. In fact, I was so blown away by your article that I'm submitting it for consideration in the NYPC's Journalism awards next year. I have a feeling it'll win the Best Feature Reporting category by a landslide."

You were speechless. "I honestly don't know what to say, Mitch. Thank you."

Ellison leaned back in his chair with a grin. "Say you'll remember to thank me in your acceptance speech when you inevitably win."

You nodded. "Absolutely. If I win, you'll be the first person I thank."

"Good. Now, I have an editorial column to write for Restaurant Week so let me get back to it, but I want to tell you again… great job."

You stood. "Thank you, Mitch, truly."

You left Ellison's office, a huge smile on your face.

"You look happy," Skyler said as you passed her in the hallway. "Good meeting?"

You nodded. "The best. Ellison loved my article and said that he was going to nominate it for the Press Club's Journalism awards next year."

Skyler gasped. "You're kidding!"

She wrapped her arms around you in a hug. "Oh my gosh, I'm so happy for you. My best friend, an award-winning journalist!"

You huffed out a laugh as you gave her a quick hug back. "That's the dream, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. I probably won't win."

Skyler shook her head. "Oh, I'm pretty sure you will. You're an incredible writer."

"Thanks, Sky." You smiled. "I'm gonna go send my article over to Matt. Hopefully he likes it as much as Ellison did."

"Okay. I'm about to head out to go pick up my press pass for that music festival I'm covering this weekend. Did you want me to grab something for you while I'm out?"

You shook your head. "I'm good. Thanks though."

"Okay, I'll see you later then."

You headed back to your desk and pulled up your email, clicking the button to draft a new email and attaching the document with your article from your desktop.

To: [email protected]

Subject: Bulletin Article

Attachment: Restaurant Week Feature V1.doc

You considered adding a message, but still wasn't sure what you'd say to him besides "I'm sorry", so you left it blank.

You were getting ready to click send when Kelsie walked up to you. "There's a delivery for you downstairs," she said. "You have to go sign for it."

Your brow furrowed. Normally Phil, the Bulletin 's security guard, signed for deliveries and put them in your mailbox. "Oh. Okay."

"And by the way, I'm not your secretary, so next time there's a message for you, someone else can deliver it."

You sighed. "Whatever, Kelsie."

You stood and headed to the elevator, then went down to the first floor.

You frowned as the doors opened and you stepped out to an empty lobby.

You walked over to the security desk. "Phil, did I have a delivery in the past couple of minutes?"

The security guard shook his head. "We had several packages come in, but nothing for you that I know of."

You shrugged. Kelsie must've been mistaken. "Okay, thanks."

You headed back upstairs to your desk and clicked send on your email to Matt.

You sighed. At least that's done.

…So why did you feel uneasy?

Matt was sitting at his computer in his office working on the next week's purchase orders when his computer chimed with a new email alert.

He navigated to his inbox and opened the email, waiting as his voice accessibility feature read out the information.

From: [email protected]

Subject: Bulletin Article

Attachments: (1) Restaurant Week Feature V1.doc

He took a deep breath and opened the attachment, an uneasy feeling forming in the pit of his stomach.

He plugged in his headphones, then hit the keyboard command to start his text-to-speech service.

His heart sank as his computer began to read the article aloud to him. It was full of false information, including completely made-up quotes and scathing reviews of both Daredevil and Matt personally. At least she left what I told her at Fogwell's out of it.

He listened to it twice more, his stomach sinking lower and lower each time.

He was contemplating listening to it yet another time when Foggy walked in. "Hey, Matt, we need to add extra oranges to next week's --"

He paused. "What's wrong?"

Matt sighed. "The Bulletin article."

Foggy stepped fully inside the office. "Oh, you got it?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah, and it's just like I thought -- she was using me the whole time."

Foggy placed a hand on the back of Matt's chair as he peered at Matt's computer screen.

He sucked in a breath. " Shit, man, I'm sorry."

Matt shook his head. "I knew it. I knew that she would turn out to be just like Elektra."

His phone began to ring, the repetition of your name twisting the knife into his heart.

He answered, saying your name flatly.

"Matt, hi," you replied. "I was just calling to let you know that I sent you a copy of my article."

"Yeah, I got it."

"Oh. Okay." You sounded unsure. "Have you read it yet?"

"Oh, yeah, I read it." Matt scoffed. "What, are you expecting me to be happy about it, to say 'thank you?' I knew I shouldn't have trusted you -- all you journalists are exactly alike."

"What?" You sounded confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that you used me to make a name for yourself. Always looking for the next big scoop, no matter who you screw over in the process."

"Screw over? Matt, I don't under--"

"I actually thought you cared about me, that maybe you felt--" Matt cut himself off and shook his head. "You know what, don't bother coming by my restaurant ever again -- you're not welcome here."

Before you could say anything else, Matt hung up then threw his phone across the room. "Fuck. "

Foggy placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Matty."

Matt shook his head. "You know, the worst part about all this is that I could feel myself falling for her, Fog. I thought she was different, I thought -- I thought that maybe someday she could be the one."

He sighed. "By the way, I know you meant well and all, but don't ever offer for me to do anything involving a journalist ever again."

Foggy chuckled. "Oh, no danger of that, don't worry."

He patted Matt's shoulder. "Come on, let's finish getting ready. If this article is going to tank us then we're going to make these last few services the best we possibly can."

#lotmf writes #Cooking Up Love Masterlist #Chef!Matt Murdock x Reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt muerdock x you

86 notes · View notes

izzywantscheesecake · 4 months

Text

end of the semester

Pairing: Roommate!Hobie x RoommateGN!Reader🕸🕷🎸 Fandom: Into/Across/Beyond the Spiderverse Quick Synopsis: Your final grade in a class was poor, so Hobie is there to give you a pep talk. Tags: Drabble, Use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (besides maybe slight height mention?), reader can be male/female or none, Hobie and reader can be read as a platonic or romantic pairing, Fluff, Comfort, very slight use of british slang, kind of self indulgent.

It was a chilly Tuesday afternoon, the perfect day to use whatever was in the fridge to make something instead of ordering food like Hobie was doing for the past week.

He grabbed lettuce, already cooked leftover chicken, tomatoes, carrots, and cucumbers and placed everything to the side while he got started on cutting the latter.

It had been a good minute since he washed the veggies and began cutting, but his pace started to get slower and slower.

Something felt off. He just knew it.

Suddenly, the front door swung open, and there you walked in, hands covering your eyes as you let out the loudest groan known to man.

In an instant, you grabbed onto your bag barely attached to your arm, and threw it towards the side of the ottoman, where it landed and fell over, exposing your pencils to the carpet.

You then kicked off your shoes and plopped yourself face first onto one of the couch pillows.

Hobie redirected his focus from the salad he was making to your pretty depressed state. “What happened to you?”

“I’m dead.”

“Alright, ‘Dead,’ can you explain what’s going on with my roommate right now?”

“Ha ha.” You lifted yourself up from the pillow, with the emotion ‘upset’ practically plastered onto your face like gum on pavement. “Grades were put in today.”

“I know, haven’t checked mine yet. Just trying to enjoy the last meal of my day before it all turns to shit,” Hobie chuckled, pouring his cut cucumbers into the bowl with a knife.

“Yeah.”

“I’m assuming you checked yours?”

“Mhm, I did great in everything, you know, the standard A minuses and A pluses, but..” You paused.

“But?”

“..I did great in everything but calculus.”

“What'd ya get?”

“C.”

Hobie went silent for a few seconds, before giving you a short round of applause.

“Not bad. At least it wasn’t an F.”

“I know, but..”

“But what?”

“I’m just disappointed ‘cause I worked so hard this semester. I took notes, spoke to teachers, bought extra material and even got a tutor at some point. All that just for a C. Maybe I should’ve studied longer, crammed more..”

You hadn’t even noticed Hobie move from his position and begin to walk towards you as you rambled.

When you snapped back to reality and saw his loud and obnoxious pajama pants standing in front of you, you paused. He kneeled down to match your height, and put both of his hands on your shoulders.

“Listen, Y/N. I know you’ve worked hard, I’ve seen it, but this is way more trivial than you think.”

“I-”

“I know a C isn’t usually considered the best grade and all, but.. It’s calculus. You got stuck with this class. Some people go through the entire four years of schooling without doing calculus, me planning to be one of them. I think the fact you passed this semester with an okay grade and even better grades on everything else is incredible.”

You stayed silent as he searched your eyes, waiting for any type of reaction.

“I’m just saying, don’t beat yourself up about this, love. It’s just one C in a sea of A’s.”

You smiled at him. “I guess that’s true.”

“Bloody right it is.”

He stood up, and walked back towards the mini-kitchen.

“Any road, pop on your PJ’s and find something for us to watch. We’re gonna need a good laugh before we see how I did.”

A/N: can you tell i'm about to fail my classes and this is my last ditch effort in creating happiness before shit hits the fan

#drabble #one shot #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #spider punk x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #atsv hobie #hobie brown x reader fluff #hobie brown fluff #self indulgent

132 notes · View notes

wikiangela · 4 months

Text

tease tidbit tuesday

tagged by @daffi-990 @jamespearce9-1-1 @jeeyuns @disasterbuckdiaz 💖

again the cheating fic bc for some reason got inspiration for it again haha (this snippet comes before the previous one, before taylor came over - and I wanna change/add some stuff to it, too, so this is pretty rough for now haha) - yes we're still at the morning after the first time and it's been 4.5k words, but hopefully I'm moving on soon 😂 this fic is gonna be so long

prev snippet

___

He needs a shower.

He puts on a load of laundry first, throwing in his sheets and yesterday’s clothes, just wanting to get rid of any reminder of last night. Get rid of evidence, a part of his brain supplies. Then he gets under a hot stream and just stands there for a moment, letting the water wash over him, as he cranks the heat up to just barely bearable. Maybe he’ll manage to burn Eddie’s touch from his skin. He tries not to think about last night, but every time he closes his eyes, another piece of the evening comes back to him, another image of Eddie in his bed, Eddie on top of him, so tangled with him he wasn’t sure where he ended and Eddie started.

He grabs a sponge, pours way too much shower gel, and starts scrubbing his body as hard and rough as he can. The hot water and harsh sponge leave his skin red and tender, but he needs to- he wants to forget. If his mind can’t, maybe at least his body can.

___

no pressure tags: @gaydiaz @diazass @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @housewifebuck @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @pirrusstuff @theotherbuckley @wildlife4life @fortheloveofbuddie @nmcggg @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @exhuastedpigeon @king-buckley @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @hoodie-buck @spotsandsocks @callmenewbie @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @weewootruck @hippolotamus @steadfastsaturnsrings @malewifediaz @honestlydarkprincess @buckaroosheart @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @giddyupbuck @jesuisici33 @elvensorceress @thebravebitch

#buddie cheating fic #seven sentence sunday #fic snippet #buddie #buddie fic #buddie wip #wikiangela writes #my writing #my wips #fic: got a girl at home (but I love the way you taste)#buck feels so bad and i feel so bad for putting him through this but also i don't bc im having fun hahaha #just jumping between my wips again but things are (slowly) progressing!

68 notes · View notes

lost-in-tokyo · 1 year

Text

I've Never Seen You Here

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x fem!reader (au)

Words: 2,6k

Summary: It's no secret that you and Sukuna want each other, but what would happen if you met at a club? (smut)

A/N: I wrote this a while ago, hope you guys enjoy it!

Warnings: Mature content, swearing, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, creampie, fingering, reader is a waitress at a café, pet names such as princess and baby.

It was little past five on a Tuesday afternoon, a soft breeze of the incoming sunset passed by the crowded streets of Tokyo, offering everyone a small relief after such a hot day. You were in your usual spot; behind the counter, with your back against it, fanning yourself with one of the menus, trying to get some relief from the hot weather inside the café you work at. Your friend, Nobara, stood in front of you, drying some glasses that had just been washed by you.

The bell on the entry door rang, announcing new customers, making your eyes roll, without even bothering enough to see who it was, your shift would end in an hour and you just wanted to leave soon.

You were just about to ask Nobara to take their orders when she spoke up.

"Your guy is here" a smirk appeared on her lips.

Turning around just in time to see him passing through the door, pink hair and dark tattoos catching the attention of many customers around him. He smirked at you, like he usually did. His black t-shirt did nothing to hide the toned muscles he had underneath it, making a smirk form on your lips as well.

Forgetting completely about your previous annoyance, you stretched your pink 60s inspired uniform dress and picked your small notepad, walking towards his table.

He was here with his friends, all of them talking loudly about something that had happened on their way to the café. He looked so cool with his silver chain and knuckle rings along with his black jeans. Smoking hot, you would dare to say.

He looked like the type of guy you should avoid, the type of guy you can’t take home to meet your parents and that is going to cause a lot of damage in your life. All the red flags were there, but you just didn’t mind them, after all, red was your favorite color.

"Welcome to Shibuya’s café, what can I get you?"

You wrote down their orders as the white-haired started telling you, but you couldn't help but notice the way the pink haired guy looked you up and down, like a wolf eyeing his prey.

"Alright, I'll be right back."

You felt his burning gaze on your back the entire way back to the counter and you more than quickly made sure to get their orders done.

"Anything else you might want?" A bright smile left your lips.

"That's all for today, princess." The pink haired answered with a grin.

It was always like this. They started coming to the café a few months ago, every time the guy would call you a nickname or smirk at you. You would smirk back, or ask if they wanted something else, looking right into his eyes, just for the pleasure to see the lust that spackled on them.

The sexual tension between the two of you was so thick you could almost cut it with a knife. Sometimes you wanted to bluntly ask for his number, or write yours and hand it to him, but you never got the guts, since all his friends were around.

You went back to work, attending other tables, making coffee, cleaning the counter, but at every chance you got, you would look in his direction and sure enough, he would be looking at you.

"You're gonna keep this mouse and cat game 'till when?" Nobara spoke up, making you jump startled.

"What do you mean?"

"Why don't you just ask him for his number?"

"Because I'm working! If Yaga sees me doing that, he’s gonna scold me for good. Second, his friends are there, what if he says no and all of them start laughing at me!?"

"You're just overthinking it!" She said, rolling her eyes. "If work’s the problem, why don't you meet him somewhere else?"

"As if it were easy to find him amongst all the people in Tokyo."

"I actually might know where he's gonna be on Friday…." She said with a smirk, leaning against the counter and raising her brows.

----

You stared at yourself in the mirror, admiring the job Nobara had done on you, your hair and makeup were flawless and the outfit she picked highlighted the best parts of your body. The short black dress hugged all your curves and the black high heels gave you an elegant posture.

“If you don’t get that guy tonight, you surely will get someone hotter.” She giggled, looking at you through the mirror. “Damn, we look fucking hot! I did an excellent job” A proud smirk appearing on her lips.

“You sure did!” You giggled a little, checking the time on your cell phone. “Shit, we gotta get going.”

Entering the club wasn’t hard at all, just flashing the bodyguard a wink and a cute smile and the two of you were in. Going straight to the bar you ordered two Sex On The Beach, waiting for the barman to make them.

"Woah! I know you two!" You heard a man saying from beside you. It was the tall white-haired guy from the café.

"Hey there!" Nobara said smiling.

"Are you girls having fun?" His smile was so bright it almost put the club’s light to shame.

"We just got here, actually!" She shouted through the music.

"Wanna sit with us? We got a table." He shouted back.

You two exchanged looks before nodding in his direction.

“I’ll have four beers, and put those drinks on us too.” He told the bartender, pointing to your drinks that he had just finished.

"Look who I found at the bar!" He caught the attention from the other men at the table, while putting the beers on it. "Girls, I'm Gojo, this is Geto, that dude’s Sukuna and the grumpy one here is Nanami." He said pointing to each one of them, receiving an eye roll from Nanami in response.

So his name is Sukuna huh? It fits him. You thought to yourself.

"I'm y/n and this is Nobara!"

They greeted you two loudly and then asked you girls to take a seat. Watching as Sukuna and Geto opened up some space for you girls to sit. You sat beside Sukuna while Nobara and Gojo sat beside Geto.

"I've never seen you here." Sukuna’s voice reached you, his lips so close to your ears that you felt goosebumps on your arms. His voice making you lose your focus on Nobara’s conversation with Gojo and turn your head towards him

"It's actually my first time here."

He nodded, looking you up and down. "It's nice seeing you without that pink dress on."

You smiled in his direction, taking his beer bottle for a sip when he offered you.

After a good thirty minutes, Gojo came back with vodka shots, which made you all engage in conversation easier, talking about work and old stories from the high school era.

Sukuna put his arm around your shoulder, looking at you, to see if you would ask him not to do so. But after seeing your smile, he knew it would be a great night. An hour passed by, and another three shots of vodka with it. Doja Cat blasted through the speakers and you and Nobara decided to go dance.

You moved your body with the beat, swaying your hips and singing out loud. Your body started to get hot, and you looked at the table seeing Sukuna's predator gaze on you, making your core start heating as well.

Another song started playing, and that's when you saw the guys approaching you. You all started dancing together as good friends would, but after a few minutes, you found yourself dancing suggestively around Sukuna, loving the way his eyes watched your hips.

You decided to make a move and turned around, pressing yourself on him while still dancing, rubbing yourself against his body. His hands found your hips as you two swayed to the song together, making it impossible for you not to feel his bulge against you, a smirk crepting your lips.

Suddenly his hands moved to your waist and he turned you around; your faces inches apart as one of your hands found the back of his neck, pulling him closer to give him a hungry kiss.

His tongue asked for permission, which you gladly allowed, feeling his muscle explore every inch of your mouth. The kiss was heated and hungry as his hand soon found your ass, bringing you impossibly closer to him.

Leaning down near your ear his lips brushed against your earlobe as he spoke. “What about we go to the bathroom?”

"Why not?" You looked up at him with innocent eyes and he just knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

Grabbing your hand he led you towards the bathroom, opening the door for you to enter first, before attacking your lips again. This kiss was even faster, the two of you desperate for more as he guided you towards one of the bathroom’s booths, closing the door behind him, trying to lock it between hair tugs and muffled moans.

Finally locking it, he pushed your back against it, allowing you a few seconds of breath before his lips found yours again. His hands went to the back of your thighs, giving them a little slap, silently asking you to jump, which you gladly did, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hands found your butt again, this time to support you.

His mouth traveled from your lips to your jaw, before finally stopping at your neck. Applying you sloppy wet kisses as he lowered the top part of your dress to play with your nipples.

He squeezed one of them harshly, earning a gasp from you as you tug at his hair. His lips attacked your other nipple, sucking and biting on it until you were a panting mess.

Moving one of your hands down to his pants, you pressed your palm on his bulge through the fabric, making a gasp leave his lips as Sukuna grabbed your hand and pushed it inside his pants, demanding for more.

You gladly opened his jeans, pulling his member out of his tight black boxers and giving it a few gentle strokes, wanting to tease him. Your delicate fingers going up and down him gently as you used your thumb to spread some of his precum on his delicate pink tip.

A low growl left his lips as his hands squeezed your waist tight enough to make you moan slightly. One of Sukuna’s hands went down to your core, circling your pulsating clit through the fabric of your panties, smirking as he felt your wetness reach his fingers.

“Already this wet for me, princess?”

Sukuna hungrily kissed your jaw as he put your panties to the side, and his middle finger traveled between your folds, getting wet with your liquids before entering you slowly.

You moaned as he entered another finger inside of you, scissoring your insides and curling them to reach that specific spot he knew would have you trembling.

“So tight… can’t wait to feel this pussy around my cock”

His dirty words made you moan again as you clenched around his fingers.

“You like it when I talk like this to you? Uh? Like it when I talk to you like a whore?”

He finally found your spot, sending you to a state of bliss as you could feel your orgasm approaching you. You got so caught in the moment, that you had to take your hand out of his pants to put it on his shoulder for support, not sure if you could trust your legs anymore.

Sukuna increased his movements, watching intently as your eyes rolled back and your legs started to tremble around him. A wave of ecstasy hitting you completely as your wall clamped around his fingers.

The pink-haired removed his fingers from you, making you whine at the loss of sensation. You watched as he took his fingers to his lips, sucking them without breaking eye contact with you.

His red eyes were almost brown now, and his pupils were dilated with lust. He kissed you one more time, letting you taste yourself on his tongue before he pushed your dress up to your waist and unbolted his pants entirely, moving his hands up and down his length a few times.

"You sure?" He asked, gaze burning your eyes.

"Yes!" You kissed him again,wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you.

That's when you felt his member collecting some of your juices before sliding slowly inside of you, making you moan slightly. He waited for a while after bottoming out, letting you get adjusted to his size, before he started to thrust at a slow pace in and out of you.

Both of your moans could be heard in the entire bathroom. Your hands were lost in his locks, pulling them making him groan like a feral beast. One of his hands supported him against the door behind you, while the other found your clit, applying circular and precise motions on it.

“Sukuna… more, please!”

His once calm thrusts became fast and hard and you were sure anyone in the bathroom would be able to hear the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. Sukuna straightened up a little, which gave him a whole new angle that hit your sweet spot instantly, making you let go of a loud moan.

"Yes! Right there" you managed to say between moans, as he promptly obeyed, hitting your core even harder.

At this point your bodies were sweating and your moans were louder than ever, his thrusts were becoming sloppier and his constant abuse to your sweet spot made your wall start to clench around him one more time as Sukuna groaned hungrily.

"I'm gonna- I’m gonna cum!" You announced, feeling the pleasure take control of your body. Your eyes closed and your head fell back, hitting the door, while a series of moans and incoherent words left your mouth.

"Yes, baby, cum for me!" Sukuna applied more pressure to his thumb on your clit, making the loudest moan to leave your throat. "Come on, doll, cum for me!"

His thrusts became faster and you felt a wave of pure pleasure take over your body as you hit your climax a second time that night, moaning out his name. He thrust inside of you a couple more times before he came too, biting hard on your shoulder to muffle his loud groan. Shots of his cum filling you up to the brum, while you moan with the sensibility of your core after your orgasm.

Sukuna held you for a few more seconds before he placed you gently on the floor, your hands still on his shoulders, to make sure you weren't gonna fall.

"Fuck" you said, adjusting your hair.

"Yeah, fuck!" He said, laughing a little, while he adjusted his pants again.

You two opened the door, glad to see that there wasn't anyone else in the bathroom.

You moved towards the sink, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was a mess, your makeup all smudged, your neck full of red marks that you were sure would become bruises soon. You quickly fixed your dress and your hair, trying to fix your makeup in the best way you could, while he fixed his hair too.

"So…" He cleared his throat. "Will I see you again?... Out of the cafe, I mean."

You smiled at him a little, before looking for a pen in your purse. "Maybe…" you smiled suggestively now. "Why don't you call me someday and we find out?"

You grabbed his hand, writing down your number on it.

"You can be sure I'll call you, princess." He whispered against your ear. “Are you ready?"

You nodded and so the two of you left the bathroom and went back to your previous table, laughing at the shouts and whistling coming from your friends.

Reblogs, comments and liked are very much appreciated <3

Masterlist | Add yourself to my Tag List

#ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #ryomen sukuna fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna fanfic #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut

466 notes · View notes